“INVISIBLE MURDERER AT A HAUNTED CROSSROADS”: 11 Dark #RetroRadio Stories! EP0273 #WeirdDarkness
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Lights are going up, snow is falling down, there's a feeling of goodwill around town. It could only mean one... McRib is here! People throwing parties, ugly sweaters everywhere, stockings hung up by the chimney with care. It could only mean one...

McRib is here. I'd participate in McDonald's for a limited time. Ads heard during the podcast that are not in my voice are placed by third-party agencies outside of my control and should not imply an endorsement by Weird Darkness or myself. The Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Dinner Sanctum. I'm looking at the sea.

Present... Suspense! I am the Whistler.

Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness' Retro Radio. Here I have the privilege of bringing you some of the best dark, creepy, and macabre old-time radio shows ever created. If you're new here, welcome to the show! While you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, sign up for my free newsletter, connect with me on social media, listen to free audiobooks I've narrated, visit other podcasts I produce.

You 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.

To be or not to be, that is not the question in the tale we're about to unfold. But there will be parallels to Shakespeare's great drama, which even the people involved recognize. Murder most foul, a spirit doomed to walk the earth, a murderer who, well, you'll hear, you'll hear.

We are concerned with the Cardwell family. Douglas, the young man, Edmund, his father, and Gertrude, his mother. Douglas? Douglas, are you awake? Douglas, wake up. Douglas, wake up. Will you please wake up? What? What's... Oh.

What is it, Mother? Is something wrong? You'll have to get up right away and get dressed. I've called Dr. Peterson. Of course, he'll be here in a few minutes. He's arranging for the ambulance and all that. Ambulance? But what... Are you sick or something, Mother? I'm perfectly all right. It's your father. Pop? What's wrong with him? I've told your father. I've told him over and over again that if he kept on with this kind of life he's been leading, he'd have to pay the price sooner or later. Well, now he's paid for it. What do you mean?

Douglas, your father is dead. Our mystery drama, That Hamlet Was a Good Boy, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Field and Farrington and stars Will McKenzie and Jennifer Harmon. 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.

A boy has lost his father. Well, not a boy, really. Douglas Cardwell is a young man, out of college and already experimenting with adult life and its potentialities. But when a boy or a man, at no matter what age, loses his father...

is a grievous loss. The funeral is over, marking the death as utterly final, and Douglas and his mother are returning to the home now tenanted by two instead of three people, at least in the natural course of things, tenanted only by two.

Pull the drapes back, will you, Douglas, and open some windows. I never could understand why a house has to be darkened and all that. What? The, uh, the drapes? Oh, for heaven's sake, you've got to stop this mooning about. Your father's been dead for three days now, and I haven't heard a half dozen words out of you. I was very fond of my father. I miss him. I miss him.

I'm sorry if you think I'm overdoing it, but I miss him. Please open the drapes. I think perhaps I'd better set you straight about your father. I'm already straight about him. I don't need to be set.

He always showed you his best side, I know. He never let you see the side of him I had to live with. I've always known what was going on. Oh, have you indeed? Did you know that your father was a drunkard? Oh, come on, Mother. He took a drink now and then. But my father was a good man. Your father was a ne'er-do-well. We live in the finest house in Brambley. The very finest, right? A house which your father inherited from his father? He owned and managed Brambley Glass, which employs almost half the people in this town, right? Right.

Managed? Mismanaged would be more accurate. Do you know that? But how can you call him a ne'er-do-well? I'll tell you how. He could have been a millionaire several times over just by scribbling his name at the bottom of an agreement. He could have. But would he do it? No, no, not your father. He knew I wanted him to, and that's why he wouldn't. You're talking about his refusal to sell the glassworks, aren't you?

Amalgamated Glass offered him three million. Three million dollars and five percent of their stock. What kind of a businessman turns down an offer like that? They wanted to close the Brambury Glass plant. You know that. Half the people in this town would have been thrown out of work. Well, thank goodness my brother will have better sense. Uncle Stanley? What's he got to do with it? Your Uncle Stanley will be taking over the management of Brambury Glass now, Douglas. Yes.

Uncle Stanley, Will? Yes. My father had planned to put me in charge when he retired. He didn't know, of course, he was going to die. Your father left his entire estate for me. That includes the factory, you know. And you intend to make Uncle Stanley the manager. Well, Douglas, I don't want to hurt you, but I'm sorry to say that I see some of your father's unfortunate characteristics in you. You've just said, you've just finished saying...

That your father was right not to sell the plant. It would have turned Bramberry into a ghost town. It will if you sell. Bramberry's near enough a ghost town in any case. And the people who live in it are not children. Let them take care of themselves. They're not our responsibility. My father felt they were his. You see what I mean? You're just like him. Thank you. A dreamer. Oh, and his choice of friends.

Good heavens, the people he called friends. There were several hundred people outside the church today. Just standing there. They couldn't get inside because there wasn't room. But they wanted to pay their respects.

I don't think he chose his friends so badly. Douglas, while we're on the subject of friends and the choosing of them, where was that girlfriend of yours today, that little blonde? What's her name? Phyllis Downs. You know her name. I didn't see her at the funeral today. She was outside with the others, I expect. She knew you'd only snub her if she tried to come inside.

Yes, I was there, Doug. Outside. And you know, I was sort of glad I was out there instead of in the church. It was really quite beautiful watching the people. They loved your father. You could see it in their faces. You know, a crazy thing. I had this strange feeling all day. Well, ever since he died, actually. But especially today. That Pop was there.

I just... You know, he might as well have been sitting right there in the pew beside me. Is that completely nutty? Who are we to say so? I never really believed in stuff like that. I don't think there's any way to believe or not believe in such things flatly, Doug. The fact is, we don't know. That's true.

You really miss him, don't you, Doug? I can't, except for you. The world has come to an end. Well, at least there will always be me. Thank the Lord. They're going to sell the glassworks, I think. What?

Mother says she's going to make Uncle Stanley the manager now that Pop's gone. Uncle Stanley? But can she do that? She says my father left his entire estate to her. He wouldn't. Well, she seemed pretty sure of herself. And they'll sell the plant? The buyers will close it down. That's the only reason anybody ever wanted to buy Branbury Glass. They might as well close the town down, too. It's about what it amounts to. He'd have given us his blessing, wouldn't he? Of course.

I talked to him about us. But your mother won't. She'll do everything she can to keep us from marrying. What can she do? I'm a big boy. I want to marry you, and I intend to. She has nothing to say about it. I'm not so sure of that. If she has control of the money as well as the factory, she can put some pressure on you. So it's settled. We sell.

You're quite sure you'll be able to find a buyer? Oh, no problem there. I don't know how the price will hold up. That's the only thing. Why shouldn't it hold up? We're coming to them now. They're not coming to us. Well, I still don't see... The price, whatever, will still be good enough to make us very wealthy people. I'll get on the phone first thing in the morning. Unless I miss my... Shh! What? What is it?

I thought I heard somebody on the porch. A little early for Doug to be coming home from a date, isn't it? Well, he hasn't been feeling himself. He... There. It is Douglas. Oh, I, um... I didn't expect to find you here, Uncle Stanley. Doug? You're home early, Douglas. Did you, uh, quarrel with your little friend? What's her name? No. Phyllis and I didn't quarrel.

I'm going out to my room, Mother. No, Douglas, sit down. There's something I believe you ought to know. I'll take it standing up, if you don't mind. Your Uncle Stanley and I have definitely decided that the best thing to do is to sell the factory. I see. Best for whom? Best for everybody, boy. It'll make us all rich. What about the rest of the people in Brambury? We'll move out of here, Douglas. Somewhere in Florida, I think, would be nice. I'll fight it.

I'll take it to court. Douglas! That's not what my father planned for the Branbury Glass Company, and I don't intend to stand by... Douglas, that's quite enough of that kind of talk. Anybody'd think your father was a saint, the way you go on about him. Close enough. Oh, Douglas, don't be silly. If there ever was an unsaintly man, it was surely your father. He was a drunkard, a procrastinator, and a woman chaser. That's a lie. Douglas! All right. Understand what I'm saying.

I'll do everything I can to keep you from selling the plant. You'll come to agree with us, I'm sure, once you've taken time to think it over rationally. Oh, now think how nice it'll be in Florida. We can... I'm not going to Florida. I'm staying in Brantbury. Maybe I can help pick up the pieces after they close the plant down. Anyway, Phyllis and I are going to be married. No, you are not going to marry that cheap little tramp. You presume too much on the fact that you're my mother. Don't.

I'm going up to bed. You are not going to marry her. You have nothing to say about it, Mother. Doug. Douglas. Can you hear me, Doug? Don't be frightened, my son. There's nothing to be afraid of. Who? Who? Who's that? Now, now, don't... Don't let it upset you, my son. It's perfectly all right. Pop, is that...

Who is it? Yes. Yes, it's me, Dino. Don't... Don't turn your light on just yet. I still have to materialize. Huh? There's no point in you watching a thing like that. It's... It's some kind of a joke. No, Dino. It's not a joke. It's just... Now, wait. Wait just a minute.

Okay. Okay, Doug, you can... You can turn your lamp on now. Pop. Hello, son. You know, this materializing is kind of tricky for a beginner. Is it? Is it really you, Pop? Oh, yes, it is. It's me, all right. Oh.

A ghost? Well, yes, I guess you could say that. It's a word we don't particularly favor, but yes. Oh, dear.

I had a feeling. I had this crazy feeling that... That I was with you, right? Well, I was. You know, that was quite a funeral. You saw? The people outside? Everything? Yeah, it was very moving, very... I never realized that all those people were so fond of... Well, I'm not here to talk about that. Why did you come back, Pop?

People don't usually, do they? No, no, not usually. See, the thing is, Doug, well, I've been made a Class D spirit. A Class D spirit? It's all very fair, all according to the regulations. See, a Class D spirit has to walk the earth. That's the way it's always been.

What is a Class D spirit? Well, we're people, well, former people, whose murders have yet to be avenged. Yeah, yeah. Did you ever see Shakespeare's Hamlet, or you must have? Oh, yes, of course. No, not that Hamlet. That Hamlet was a good boy. Not very bright, maybe, but a good boy. His father got murdered, and he couldn't rest a minute until the murder was avenged, and his father could get out of Class D. Huh. He died of a heart attack.

Dr. Peterson said so. He signed the certificate that way. Don't you believe it, son. Your Uncle Stanley smothered me with a pillow. Murder most foul. Since the art of storytelling began, there have been tales of men and women murdered and unavenged. But who is to say with certainty that these lost souls walk only within the confines of fiction?

The murder which goes unavenged is the murder which never comes to light. To shed some light on this one, I'll be back shortly with Act Two. Douglas Cardwell's father, dead now these three days, has just come to his son in the still of the night and spoken to him of murder.

Although Dr. Peterson signed a certificate saying that Edmund Cardwell's death was brought about by coronary arrest...

Edmund himself claims that the cause was a pillow held over his face by his brother-in-law, Stanley. You can't mean that, Pop. Uncle Stanley? There was never any trouble between you and Uncle Stanley, was there? I mean, why should he want to kill you? Well, I don't know myself exactly why he would want to do such a thing, but since I know he did it, then it follows he had a motive, doesn't it? Yes.

Yes. And I think I know what it was. You do? Well, then maybe you'd better tell me. Well, Mother's putting Uncle Stanley in charge at the plant. Oh, Lord, Lord, I was afraid of something like that. And they're planning to sell out. They told me tonight just before I came up to bed. Well, there's all the motive you need. Son, listen, I have to tell you something about your mother and me. No need, Pop.

Do you think I wouldn't notice when you and Mother started using separate bedrooms? Well, I... What was I supposed to think that meant? But you were just a child then, Doug. Almost 12. Kids aren't stupid, Pop. Oh, no. Apparently not.

Well, I'm sorry, Doug. It's shameful to do a thing like that to a boy. Well, then maybe it won't surprise you too much when I tell you I have reason to suspect your mother of being, well, an accomplice to my murder.

Mother? Oh, come on, Pop. She's been after me for years to sell that factory. Well, it would have been a profitable thing to do if you didn't take into consideration the harm it would have done. Still, to say that she had a hand in... She was at home that night. Now, I came in late. We had a quarrel. I went on up to bed. Now, somebody had to let your Uncle Stanley into the house. Right? She must have. She must have stayed down there waiting for him while he was upstairs.

Holding that pillow over my face. Now, I'm sorry, Doug. Sorry, but I don't see how he could have done it otherwise. It's a terrible thing to have to believe about your own mother. Terrible.

I'm very sorry. But she has been saying some nasty things about you. I'll tell you one thing she was right about. I was a procrastinator to, well, to a downright sinful degree. I've been meaning ever since the day you turned 21 to have my will changed in your favor. But somehow, well, I just put it off from day to day until, well, it's just too late now. It's going to be pretty hard on the town of Brambury if they sell the plant.

You know, whoever buys it will close it down. Well, now, don't give up, son. I'm not in very good shape for a fight, but we're not through yet all the same. What is it you want me to do? Well, I'm hanging to find out right this minute, son. We should be able to think of something, though, the two of us together.

Right now, I'm just about tuckered out. Now, let's think about it until tomorrow night. And I'll appear to you again tomorrow night at midnight. Wherever you are at midnight, I'll be there. Okay. Why is it always midnight, Pop? I mean, why do ghosts always walk at midnight? Well, it's... it's tradition.

No, it's traditional, yes, as far as I can tell. As far as I can tell, it's no easier at midnight than any other time. Douglas, you've hardly touched your breakfast. Didn't Marie do your eggs right? They're fine, Mother. I'm not hungry, that's all. Well, you have to eat. You can't go on. A very strange thing has happened, Mother. Strange? I saw my father last night.

You what? He came to me in my room. Have you lost your mind? I don't think so. Oh, you dreamed it. No, Mother, I was awake. It was no dream. He sat on the edge of the bed and we talked. Almost the way we used to talk. Only not about the same kind of thing. And what did you talk about in this dream that wasn't a dream? Murder. We talked about murder. About... murder? Murder?

He told me he'd been murdered. Uncle Stanley held a pillow over his face and smothered him. Oh, for heaven's sake, Douglas. That's what he told me, and I believed him. You believed him? You actually think your Uncle Stanley would... Oh...

Oh, my poor Douglas, it's... I'm so sorry. It's just been too much for you, hasn't it? I didn't realize... Too much, yes. But I am not out of my mind. I know what I saw, and I know what I heard. That isn't all of it either, I'm afraid. It's quite enough for me. He thinks you were involved. He thinks you helped Uncle Stanley kill him. All right, Douglas. I've heard all of this kind of talk I intend to listen to...

I'll call Dr. Peterson and see if he can recommend a good psychiatrist. You can call if you like, Mother. But I'm not going to see a psychiatrist. I don't need one. Where are you going? Out. There are some people I want to see. What people? If you want me to come right out with it, that is none of your business. Douglas! You can't bully me the way you've always bullied my father. Douglas!

My boy, I want you to know how deeply grieved I am at your father's death, and I want to offer my most heartfelt condolences. Thank you, Mr. Conrad. You'd been my father's lawyer for a good many years, hadn't you? His legal advisor and one of his closest friends. Twenty years or more, I'd say. Mr. Conrad, did he ever mention... I don't want to sound greedy at a time like this, but...

Was there ever any talk of changing the will in my favor? Oh, yes. Yes, indeed, there was. Unfortunately, it was never done. But it had been his intention for some time. I see. He was in the best of health, we always thought. There was plenty of time. The thing is, my mother, with the help of my Uncle Stanley, they're talking about selling the glassworks. Oh, dear. Your father wouldn't have wanted that. Neither do I.

Is there any way we can stop them? I suppose you could delay it by taking it to court. It would be costly, and I... I don't believe you'd stand much chance of winning. You advise against it, then? I believe I would have to advise against it, yes. You can believe it or not, but I swear he was there, sitting on the bed right beside me. You actually saw a ghost? Well, you know...

He didn't seem like a ghost. He was just my father. Oh, he was a ghost, all right. At first, I could sort of half see through him. Oh, that's spooky, all right. Didn't bother me too much, really. And he got himself solidified after a while. Materialization is hard for a beginner, he said. The poor dear. And murder, too. Oh.

You said your father mentioned Hamlet? A Class D spirit, Pop says, has to walk the earth until he's avenged. Hamlet's father was Class D. In Hamlet, he got killed and his girlfriend went off her rocker and jumped into a fish pond or something. I don't find that too attractive. Oh, I don't think he meant us to follow Shakespeare's script altogether.

Would you like some dessert? Oh, there's no hurry. Well, the only thing is, I have to be home by midnight. Why? He promised he'd show up again at midnight tonight. We're going to see if we can figure out what to do. Well, does it have to be there, in your room? Well, he did say wherever I was. Why? Well, couldn't we go to my apartment? If he's going to show up wherever you are, why not my apartment? I guess that would be all right.

If you're sure, you won't be afraid. Of that, sweet old man? Don't be silly. Oh, answer it, Stanley. Answer it, will you? Oh, Stanley, where in the world have you been? I've been trying this whole live long evening to reach you. I had a very busy day, Gertrude. A very tiring day, and I don't want a bull's head. Oh, all right, all right. But where were you? I was having dinner with a prospect.

A prospect? You mean you've had this whole day to work on it and you still haven't settled anything? I think I made a deal this evening, subject to your approval, of course. Consolidated bottling is willing to... I don't want to hear about it this way. Not on the phone. I want you to come over here right away. Gertrude, I'm tired and I'm not feeling well. I've had a hard day... At once, Stanley. Stanley?

What time is it now, Doug? Two minutes to twelve, if my watch is right. You're not frightened, are you, Phyllis? Of course not. Well, maybe a little nervous. Oh, you needn't be. He's really just the same. Except dead. What time is it now? Twenty seconds later. He may be late, you know. Punctuality was never one of my father's virtues. But surely now that he's... Doug! Doug! Yes, Popper.

I'm here. Well, you're not. You don't seem to be alone. Oh, it's all right, Pop. You remember Phyllis? Phyllis Downs? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Just a minute. Now... There. It really is. You know, the materializing seems to get easier as you go along. Phyllis. Phyllis, how nice to see you again. It's good to see you too, Mr. Cardwell. Only...

Well, give me a minute to get used to it. I expect it is unnerving. It's nothing to be afraid of, though. I'm not afraid. Of course you're not. Well, Doug, anything new? Well, Uncle Stanley was supposed to be out taking bids for the plant today. Well, he won't have any trouble. Plenty of people eager to buy Brambley Glass. Doug, you told your mother about our talk last night, didn't you? Yes. Shouldn't I have? Well, it doesn't really matter. Have you thought of anything? No.

No, I'm sorry to say I haven't. Now, I don't want to get you into a bad situation down here, and yet, if I'm to be reclassified, I have to be avenged. Well, Doug, I just don't know. Well, I suppose I'll do whatever I have to.

There must be some better way than the way Hamlet did it. No, no, no. All I said was that Hamlet was a good boy. I didn't ask you to do any of the things he did. I don't want you to make the kind of mess he made of things. Certainly, I don't want you to... Hey, I just thought of something. In Hamlet, they did a play. Remember? Yeah. A bunch of strolling players came along and Hamlet made up a scene for them to act out, to catch the conscience of the king. Right. Why couldn't we do that?

A whole troupe of actors? I have a whole movie camera. Got it as a present last Christmas, and it's absolutely marvelous. But Phyllis... It takes pictures indoors with just ordinary room lighting, and I've got tons of film. Oh, yes, but we'd still need actors. No, we wouldn't, don't you see?

You could play yourself... and Doug could play Uncle Stanley... and we'd reenact the crime. I don't know about that, Phyllis. I only tried acting once... in my high school senior class play... and, well, to tell you the truth... I was terrified. All you'd have to do is just lie there on the bed... Mr. Cardwell... while Uncle Stanley held the pillow over your face...

You wouldn't have to act. No. It didn't work very well in Hamlet. Well, it sure caught the conscience of the king. If we can scare Uncle Stanley badly enough, who knows what might happen? Well, you know, I don't think you can take pictures of spirits. I mean, I don't think spirits show up on film. Oh, Mr. Cardwell, please. That's just superstitious nonsense. Probably. Like seeing a ghost. Well, we can try. Okay.

Goodness knows I have nothing better to suggest. It has been said that nature imitates art, which, I suppose, could be made to read, reality imitates fiction. But is Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, a wise choice of models? As I recall, there was nobody left except the ghost of the murdered king.

Perhaps, however, reality need not slavishly follow the pattern of fiction. Perhaps in the case at hand, some of the misery will be edited out. We'll see when I return shortly with Act Three. The late Edmund Cardwell has been designated a Class D spirit, which means that he must walk the earth until his murder is avenged.

He has appeared as a rather lifelike specter to his son, Douglas, and now also to Phyllis Downes, who is engaged to marry Douglas. The three of them, in trying to determine how best this vengeance may be realized, have hit upon a device used by Hamlet in Shakespeare's drama. The play is the thing they've decided, wherein they'll catch the conscience of Uncle Stanley. At this moment, the

They're examining the bedroom of Phyllis' apartment, which she has proposed as the setting for their filmed drama. No, no, Phyllis. I'm afraid it just won't do. It isn't the least like my own bedroom where the crime was committed. Well, then, we'll have to make the film in your room. With Mother in the house? Oh, yes.

You don't know my mother. We can wait until she's gone to bed. After all, it's going to be a silent film. And if my mother wakes up? If she wakes up, your father simply disappears. He can do that. We hide the camera before we let her in, and she finds the two of us alone in your father's room. That's all there'll be to find. You know what she's going to think. So, I don't care what she thinks, do you? Are you afraid of her, Doug? Of course he is, my dear.

Everybody's afraid of Gertrude. Well, it's about time, Stanley. What took you so long? Gertrude, can we just get this over with? I've had a stomachache all day, and I don't think I've ever been this tired before in my whole life. I don't want to talk in this house, Stanley. But I came all the way over here because... I'll explain it to you later, somewhere else.

I'm afraid of being overheard if we talk here. Overheard? Is Doug home? No, he isn't. He's out with that girl. Well, then who's going to overhear us? My husband, if you must know. Edmund? Edmund?

He's still in this house, Stanley. I can feel it. He's still here. Gertrude Edmund's dead. We buried him a few days ago. He's here all the same. He's come back, Stanley. Oh, if I didn't feel so lousy, that would almost be funny. You, of all people. Maybe you won't think it's so funny when I tell you that Douglas saw him last night and talked to him. I don't believe it. Douglas says he did.

He also says that Edmund is accusing you of smothering him with a pillow. Oh. Doug said that? He did. But... But how would he know? No, he wouldn't. Unless Edmund told him. Now, do you understand why I want to get out of this place? The lights are still on in the living room.

Stay in the shadow of these bushes, Phyllis. What time does your mother usually go to bed? Earlier than this is a rule. It's almost one o'clock. Your father's going to materialize in his room after we get there. Is that the plan? Or before. He thought it'd be easier than... The light just went out. We'll still have to give her some time. Honey, she didn't turn on her bedroom light first. She usually... Shh, shh, shh. Somebody's coming out the front door. I think it's... Yes, it's Mother. There's somebody with her.

Uncle Stanley, it looks like. Don't like him, at least. He's fat. Pretty portly, yes. Where are they going? Around to the garage, it looks like. Beautiful. If they drive away somewhere in the car, it'll be a cinch to get inside. Heather doesn't like to drive at night, but Uncle Stanley sometimes parks his car back by the garage. Come over here behind the bushes, so the lights won't catch you as they back out.

It's going to work, Doug. I have a feeling. We're going to do it and it's going to work. Pop? Right here, Doug. They went out somewhere, she and Stanley. Yes, we saw them go. Okay to turn the light on? Sure.

All right, let's get started. Well, now what do I have to do? Just lie down on the bed and close your eyes. Doug, you wrap a blanket or something around your middle so you'll look thick like your Uncle Stanley. Now, we'll have a run-through first. One should do that. Now, who ever heard of anybody reenacting his own murder? A man shouldn't be asked to die more than once. No!

Oh, Stanley, you know I hate saloons. Come on, Gertrude. There's nothing else open this time of night. Now, would you like to hear what I did today, or wouldn't you? Oh, all right. Yes, of course I want to hear. Well, it's not quite as good as we'd hoped. Everyone knows Edmund's dead, you see, and they know he was the holdout. They know you and I are ready to sell. So? So the price has gone down. Oh, Stanley, you know I hate saloons.

I might have known. He bungled it. Gertrude, these people are not stupid. Bramberry Glass is a small plant. It's a nuisance to the big companies, that's all. The best offer I got was from Consolidated Bottling. Oh.

One million dollars and three percent of their common stock. Take it or leave it. I happen to know that Amalgamated once offered... I said take it or leave it. All right, all right. A million's better than nothing. Considerably.

So can I go home and get some sleep? Well, what still has to be done? Consolidated, there's a board meeting scheduled for 10.30 tomorrow morning. I guess I'll have to be there for that. If the deal gets past the board, it'll go to the legal department and they'll draw up the papers. With luck, I might have something for you to sign tomorrow night.

All right, I guess that wraps it up. Pretty good, too, I think. That last take was very effective. Actually gave me the shivers. Yeah, it gave me worse than that. I just hope it does some good, that's all. It will. It has to. We'd better get out of here while we still can. Yes, I don't much want to see my mother, just now. I'll have them develop and print this film tomorrow morning. Will you see if you can arrange for us to show it to them tomorrow night, Doug? I'll try to get them together.

I think it'd be just as well not to tell them why. I don't believe they'd be very interested right now in watching home movies. They'll be interested, all right, once they see that first shot. This is Doug, Phyllis. I just had a talk with Mother. I'm calling from the drugstore now. Is it all set up for us to show the film tonight? Uncle Stanley's going to be at the house tonight at 8 o'clock. He hopes to have the papers for Mother to sign by then. It looks like tonight or never.

No. We'll just show up with it at the house and make them watch it. It's the only way I can think of. My father? I'm not sure. I suspect he's pretty much in touch with what's going on, though. I'm right here with you, son. Right here?

In the phone booth? What did you say? Ask her if I showed up all right on the film, Doug. Phyllis, Pop's here with me in the phone booth. He wants to know if he showed up all right on the film. Perfectly. Just as well as you did. Hmm. Funny. Somewhere I got the idea you couldn't take pictures of Class D spirits.

I'm going to be there tonight when we show the film. Pop, she wants to know... I know, I know, I heard. I'll be there in spirit, at least. I'm not sure that I'm up to facing your mother in the flesh. Oh!

You're ten minutes late, Stanley. I know. Oh, come on in. Did you bring the papers? They're all ready for your signature. I may go down to Florida myself when this is all over, or someplace, at least for a few weeks. I need the rest. Well, there won't be anything to hold either of us in Brambley. Let me have the papers. Okay.

I got them right here in my attache case. They had the whole legal department working on this thing. Shh, shh, shh. Somebody outside. I didn't hear any. Oh. Hello, Mother.

Uncle Stanley? You've both met Phyllis, haven't you? We've met, yes. We have something to show you, Mother. Oh, both of you. I'm afraid we'll have to wait, Douglas. We're very busy right now. Oh, not too busy for this, I hope. It's a short piece of film. It doesn't run more than a few minutes. Run? What is it you've got, Douglas? A screen. And

And this is a projector. Won't take us a second to set it up. Gertrude, why don't you just sign these papers and let me get out of here? I don't. I really don't feel well enough to watch any old movies tonight. Oh, you'll be interested in this, Uncle Stanley. You especially. This wall will do. Is it all right if I take this picture down? No, it is not, young lady. And...

And we don't have time for any of this nonsense. I want you... Sure, take it down, Phyllis. Here, let me help you. Douglas! Oh, you'll find this fascinating, Mother. I guarantee it. Okay, all set here. You can turn the lights out, Doug. Douglas! What? Oh, Lord. Douglas, that's her father. How did you get... Oh, there's more, Mother. Wait until you've seen it all. It's me. Somehow they got...

I got pictures of it. You'll notice. That's a pillow Uncle Stanley has in his hands, Mother. Where did you get this filthy thing? Shut it off. I don't want to... I can't... Shut that dreadful thing off. You haven't seen the best part. You see? The pillow down over my father's face. I told you to... Okay. Shut it off, Phyllis.

Here. Here, let me get to him, Mother. There's no pulse. I'm afraid... You killed him. You killed my brother. Oh, Doug. A heart attack, I imagine. Oh, Stanley, speak to me. I won't have this, do you understand? Speak to me. It's no good, Mother. Gertrude. Gertrude. Can you hear me? Douglas, it's your father. Yes. Is he going to... Will he...

No, no, no, no, Edmund, go away. Go away, you're dead. And just about out of class D. There's one thing, though, Gertrude. Go away. I will, Gertrude, but first, take those papers out of Stanley's attache case. You know the papers I mean. There. Now tear them up. I will not.

The factory is mine now, and I have every right to sell it. True. If you want me to haunt you for the rest of your life. Because I will... If you were alive, you'd never get away with this. Yes, but as you say, Gertrude, I'm dead.

Tear them up, Gertrude. Thank you. Now, you're to put Doug in charge of Brantbury Glass. In fact, I think it would be a good thing if you deeded the factory over to him. Yes, yes, I think that would be best. Now, you listen here. You may keep the house if you like. The liquid assets, I think, ought to be divided equally between the two of you. You see, Doug's going to need the money now that he and Phyllis are planning to be married. I will do it.

According to your will. Oh, I've just made a new will, Gertrude. Weren't you listening? Or, of course, I could stay and haunt you. All right. Now, go away. Oh, poor Stanley. Yes, yes, I am sorry about that in a way. At least, though he won't be in Class D, he died a natural death. Um...

I'll be going now, Doug. I wish you and Phyllis long life and happiness. We... we won't be seeing you again? No. Not as long as your mother keeps her promise. It's better that way, really. Remember me, though. I hope you'll remember me. I won't forget him. Phyllis and I will be around to remind you if you ever should. Phyllis!

And so the father is avenged and free at last to take his final rest. The mother? Well, the ghost of Hamlet's father said to Hamlet...

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive against thy mother horde. Leave her to heaven and to those thorns that in her bosom lodge do prick and sting her. I'll return in the flesh, of course, in a few minutes. ♪♪

The Branbury Glass Factory was never sold, and Doug Cardwell, since taking over its management, has made a very good thing of it. Branbury is still a thriving little town, with no more than the usual concern over unemployment. Doug and Phyllis live in the old house now, and Doug's mother wears a lovely Florida tan. His father has never had occasion to return.

Our cast included Will McKenzie, Jennifer Harmon, Grace Matthews, Joe Silver, and Leon Janney. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. I decided to kill him. I purchased the knife. I went to the apartment, and I killed him. You must accept it, Morris. No. Oh, poor Morris. Poor, loyal, loving Morris. You mean...

You mean you killed him? You really...

So he killed him? Now, please, you mustn't feel so badly. I'll get you a lawyer. Now, please, Morris, not your son-in-law. Sheldon's a wonderful lawyer. I don't want a wonderful lawyer. Why not? He might get me acquitted. That would be bad. I'm guilty. I must pay for my crime. Vaughn, is there anything you need? Solitude. I must compose the speech. What speech? When the judge will say, Vaughn Lemire, do you have anything to say before sentence is passed upon you...

I intend to be ready. 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.

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

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

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

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Explore over 300 programs at asuonline.asu.edu. At Arizona State University, we're bringing world-class education from our globally acclaimed faculty to you. Ranked number one in innovation for 10 consecutive years and number two among public universities for employability. ASU isn't just ahead of the curve, it's creating new paths to success. Earn your degree from the nation's most innovative university. Online, that's a degree better.

Explore more than 300 undergraduate, graduate, and certificate programs at asuonline.asu.edu. With so many options, why choose Arizona State University? For me, the only online option was ASU because of the quality. Their faculty was really involved with their students and care about your personal journey. The dedication to my personal development from my professors, that's been extremely valuable to me. Earn your degree from the nation's most innovative university.

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Science fiction adventures from the world of tomorrow, the years beyond 2000 A.D. 2000 Plus presents The Insect. ♪♪

Oh, it's wonderful news, darling. It means I'll probably get that research appointment at the university. Oh, I can hardly believe it, George. Oh, here's the telegraph from the dean of science himself. I'll take the jet plane in about two hours and be there in plenty of time for my meeting this afternoon. I know. I'll get a bottle of champagne and we'll celebrate a dinner tonight. Well, that's nice, but I'm not sure I'll be home for dinner. The meeting may go on. Maybe I'll have to stay overnight, take the plane back in the morning. Well, then we'll have champagne for breakfast. Well, let's not hope too much.

Hey, hey, hey, I've got to gather my papers and things while I'm going to get to the airport in time. You'd better help me. In the lavatory?

Oh, now, look. The wife of a budding scientific genius shouldn't act like that. But, George, I'm frightened when I go in there. Nonsense. They won't hurt you. No, I can't stand insects. That's why I stay out of your life. I've got to have help with these papers. What do you want me to do, cancel the meeting because my wife is afraid of the work I do? Oh, I'm sorry, darling. It's just... All right, all right. I'll try to do it myself. Don't be angry, George. If they were ordinary insects, tiny ones will...

Maybe it would be different. Even with what I've done to them, they're not so big. So I've taken a spider, a housefly, and a wasp, and by means of my growth ray, I've made them larger. The spider still isn't any bigger than my fist. The housefly is about as large as a pack of cigarettes. The wasp no bigger than a golf ball. They're not giants. But they look so horrible when they're even that big. Easier to observe and study. That's why the university's interested in my work.

With the long-term appointment and the grant to amplify the growth rate, maybe I can really increase the size of the insect. Imagine a fly as big as a horse. That would be some horse fly. Hey, that's a joke. Go right, George. I'll help you. It's only the papers we're packing. You won't have to go near the insect cages. The End

Now, uh, hand me those poisonous insects. And that one there. Uh, sit there? Right. And do you... Do you have any poisonous ones in here at all? Only Sam, the spider. He's in the glass cage by those books. I don't want to look. Maybe if you'd look, you wouldn't have such ridiculous ideas. Sam is a nice guy. He just squats and stares. Looks like a wise old man. If I looked, I'd get sick.

All those legs, the ears, the wolves. Okay, okay. Now the notebook, please. Hey, hey, hey, hey, be careful. Why? Well, what's the matter? That machine is very delicate. You almost touched it. Oh, the girl thing? Uh-huh. I don't want that running while I'm gone. Don't worry. I can't wait to get out of here. Oh, let's see now. We got everything? Yep. Well, that does it. Come on.

After you, meet Terra Stricken Beauty. You know, I hope when we get to the university, if I get the appointment, you'll keep your disgust of insects to yourself. A wife is supposed to build up her husband's work. Faculty-wise do that all the time. George, don't argue with me now. I just can't help the way I feel. Sam should really be fed while I'm gone. Stop it! I'm not going in there. All right.

All right. What about Pete the housefly? He's not poisonous. You feed your insects when you get home. Now, hurry up. George will be late. Sure. Well, goodbye. Oh, George, I don't want you to leave when you're annoyed like that. I'm sorry, darling. I really love you. But I love my insects, too. THE END

Just a minute. Coming. Hello, Mrs. Martin. Here are the groceries you ordered. Oh, hello, Bill. Right in here. Okay. Oh,

On the table? Uh, please. Well, I hope the oranges are better this time than they were last. Oh, Mr. Ginkleheimer said to tell you that these oranges are swell. Well, I'll know when I squeeze them perfectly. Oh, thank you, Bill. Oh, is, uh, Mr. Martin home? Mr. Martin? No, he isn't, Bill. Why? Well, he was going to show me his bugs. Oh, you don't want to look at them. They're dreadful. I find them very interesting. Mr. Martin said he'd take me into his lab today.

That's why I delivered your order first. I was anxious to see them. Oh, Mr. Martin was called away suddenly. He got a telegram and had to leave almost at once. But he'll be home tomorrow. Meanwhile, I've got to work at the other store, the one on North Street. Well, in a few days, then. The bugs will still be here, Bill. Mrs. Martin, would it be too much trouble if you let me peek at them?

I never go into Mr. Martin's laboratory. I won't hurt anything. Just peek. I was kind of looking forward to seeing them and... Oh, it's a horrid place, Bill, that laboratory. You wait till Mr. Martin gets home. Sure, Mrs. Martin, if you say so. They look so glum. What you men see in those revolting creatures, I'll never know. They're scary. They're so big. I feel funny when I look at them. Then Mr. Martin explains about science and stuff, and it's really interesting.

Would you like to be a scientist, Bill? I sure would. Well, I suppose I ought to encourage it. I won't take you in, but you can peek. You know where the door is. Oh, thanks, Mrs. Martin. Thanks very much. But don't touch anything. I won't. Then it's a piece of cake. She's away. Mrs. Martin. Oh. Oh.

Help! Help! Bill! Bill, what's wrong? Oh, no. No! I saw it before. Wasn't it the last time? I don't know. At least six feet high. What is it? The eyes. Either it's out in front, waving. Wings. It's got wings. Wings.

It can fly at us, kill us, eat us. Get out of here, woman. We must get out of here. Yeah, walk backwards. Keep your eyes open. It looks like a moth. A giant moth. Watch it. If it flies to... Open it. Open it. Open it. Open it. Quick, open it. I can't.

Lock it! In the old room! We can't get out! It's holding at it. It's not crying, Mrs. Watson. It isn't doing anything. It's just sitting there, fanning its wings. Oh, Bill. Bill, what should we do? I don't know. Let's move in the corner. By that chair. We can crouch down behind it. Down. Down.

Then just sit here and watch it. Now, Mr. Martin, I'm very interested in your growth rate. As dean of science, I want to be certain that this university encourages brilliant young scholars who are experimenting in new fields of research. I understand. At the same time, I must be satisfied that the research will be of fundamental value. Yes, sir. Now, suppose you talk for a while. Tell me about your work. Well, I have always been interested in the effect of environment on organisms.

I narrow the environmental practice to universal conditions applicable to all organisms. For example, sir, air, temperature, humidity, light, and so forth.

And then I approached each of these conditions from the point of view of its specific effects on organisms. I discovered that the presence or absence of light gave me the widest variance of the action. Oh, excuse me. In what way the widest variance? In the effect on physical growth, change, adaptation. I see.

You see, sir, because light is a general term, I broke its definition down into all known rays, infrared, ultraviolet, so forth, and studied reactions of organisms to those rays in every conceivable combination. Now, after two years, I evolved the theory that if certain rays could be combined electronically and concentrated on living organisms for specified periods of time,

Their growth would be greatly stimulated. And you have constructed such a machine? Yes, I have. The Electrodyne Spectrum, the growth ray machine. What have you accomplished with it so far? I've multiplied the growth of certain insects many times.

My present machine is small and homemade, and its power is not too great. But so far, I've increased the size of a fly to that of a pack of cigarettes. The size of a spider to that of my fist. What kind of spider? A tarantula. That's a very dangerous and poisonous insect to work with. Well, being a tropical spider, it might be more receptive to light.

Its size has tripled. Tell me, Mr. Martin, what is the optimum increase in size that you've so far obtained? About eight times with the fly. The size increase varies with the insects. There's a lot of research yet to be done. So I can see. Your work certainly excites the imagination. Think of your having the kind of equipment that will permit a 20, 50, 100, or even a thousand-fold increase in an insect's size. Imagine an insect large enough to attack and devour a human being.

Imagine this university needing lion cages to contain its giant insects. Well, there's no limit to what new things we could learn about all manner of organisms with the growth rate. Not just insects. That's right. Mr. Martin, I'd like you to stay on another few hours so that we can talk some more. I'd be very happy. Perhaps you'd like to phone your wife, but she'll be a bit late. Thank you, sir. You can use the phone in the other office. And, Mr. Martin... Yes? When she asks you how everything's going...

You tell her that it's going just fine. It's still sitting there, looking at us. The most horrible thing I've ever seen. It's a beehive. It's giant wings. How does it get here, Mrs. Martin? Somehow the growth ring must have begun working. It gives off a slight glow. The moth must have seen it, flown toward it. It must have seen us.

Those eyes. Their biggest dinner plates. Maybe it's waiting. Then it will come towards us. It'll try to kill us. Then it gets... Don't, Bill. Don't say that. Crouch down, Lord. This chair protects us. We've got to get out of here. The door's locked, but isn't there some other way out? Only the window behind the north. Is the window locked? I can't see. The shade is drawn. Yes.

Yes, the window is locked. Gosh, if it only would light in the other corner of the room, then what would you do? Maybe I could run to the window, pull up the shade. Unlock the window? Get out and get help. Just leave me alone with that horrible, monstrous creature? Oh, no. What will we do? I don't know. When will Mr. Martin come home? This afternoon, tonight. Maybe not until tomorrow. The phone. The phone.

Maybe that's Mr. Martin calling. Yes. When you don't answer, maybe he'll come home. No. No, he'll think I'm out shopping or visiting. Mrs. Martin, look. The map. It stopped moving its wings. It's looking right at us. At this corner. I'll bet it hears the telephone. It scares him. That must be George calling him. Why doesn't he realize something has happened? Why doesn't he call the neighbors or the police?

Why didn't it come along? Mrs. Martin, I think it's going to fly. What do we do? I don't know. It will kill us. If it heard the phone, it will hear us. When it flies, crash down, Bill. Get as much protection from the chair as possible. And scream, yell, anything to make noise. Okay. Okay, Mrs. Martin. Oh, the way it just does. Baby, baby, it will fly. It will fly. The phone has stopped ringing. Yes, Bill. Yes.

Let's be quiet. Like a nightmare being here. Oh, George, darling, you know I hated these insects. Yet they built a laboratory in our home. Oh, a place with a room of terror. Why am I here? Why did they happen to trap me here? Was it because I hated George's work?

Was it because I refused to help him with these repulsive creatures? See them all? His body is like a worm. Withered, rippling, gray, dirty. And his eyes, his eyes, staring.

Darling, I'm here. What's he going to do? It's flying out. Same again. Make noise. Why you want me? That's the wall, the ceiling, the fireplace, the windows. His wings hit the window shade. It's all rough. The sunlight's coming in.

He's flying blindly. Crazy. What was that? The glass cage. The glass cage with the spider. The poison, the spider. I see it. It's floating across the floor. Over there by the sofa. The giant mouth is sitting on the bookshelf. And on the floor. Like a fuzzy ball of death. The spider. The tarantula.

Well, Mr. Martin, I am delighted to see you. The dean followed and said you were coming over. I think I am the last member of the faculty committee he wants you to see. Oh, sit down, won't you? Thank you, Professor Buckley. Yes, I have been going all afternoon from one appointment to the other. And we all of us are happy to talk with you. The dean is quite excited about your research, you know. Yes, I am very pleased about that.

Professor Buckley, I hope you won't think me rude at the beginning of our meeting, but I wonder if I might use your phone. Why, of course, Mr. Martin. Is something wrong? No, I don't think so, but I phoned my wife several times to tell her I was staying on all afternoon, and there's been no answer. Oh, I'm sure there's nothing wrong, but what means call the phone is right there. Thank you. Number, please. 118-4572. And reverse the charges, please. Thank you. Hmm.

There doesn't seem to be any answer. Well, let it ring a few more times. Sorry, sir, there is no answer. Shall I keep trying? Yes, sir, but please keep trying. I'll call you, sir. Thank you. I can't understand it. It's not like Betty to be away so long. They're both still there, Mrs. Martin. Yes.

Still there? Saw the spider last week. As big as Mr. Martin's fist. I looked into the glass cage. I could see the hair on its legs. Like bristles. Mr. Martin showed me its mouth. Where it bites and kills with the poison. Stop it, Bill. Stop. I'm sorry, Mr. Martin. I can't stop looking at them. They don't like the sunlight.

That's why they're on the sofa. But the whole room is flooded with sunlight since the shade went up. I live in this corner behind this chair. It doesn't give us the protection we need. Why? The moth is too big to get at us here. But the spider, it can scurry on the rock under the chair. I'll take off my shoes. Something to hear with if it comes. There. Now you take one of them. Look. Look.

Its wings are fluttering again. It's going to fly again. But let's not scream, Bill. It might scare the spider. Can they hear, too? I don't know. Here he comes. The picture on the wall. He's not the dog. The spider. The spider. Where is he? I don't know. Somewhere. Somewhere in this room. The mouse. It's so blind. The spider. Maybe it's near us. Oh, Bill. Bill, can't you see where it is? The spider.

There is still no answer, sir. Shall I keep trying? I don't know. I'll call you back. Ask for operator 34, sir. Thank you. No answer yet? No, sir.

Of course, I did tell Betty that I might be late or even stay overnight. She may have gone to her mother's. It's a real pleasure finding a young man who cares that much for his wife. I suppose Mrs. Martin feels the same way about you. Oh, Betty's wonderful. As I'm sure she is. After all, not many women would approve of their husbands inventing machines that make insects larger.

You've got a rare wife, Mr. Martin. One who doesn't object to giant insects in the house. Keep the shoe tight in your hand, Bill. If you see the spider, hit it. It's hard. Yes, ma'am. I will. I can't stand it. My hands are trembling. I'm cold. Take care of Mrs. Martin.

I think I'm getting a mistake. Oh, you mustn't, Bill. If I could have a drink of water. The moth, it's acting strangely. See? Yeah. Its feelers are kind of limp. And its body. Oh, that disgusting worm. My body is flabby all of a sudden. Droopy. Its eyes. They look different, too. I don't know why, but somehow the heat has to arise.

What's the matter? Spider! Spider, what are you... Oh, no. No, it was only the hem of your skirt touching my leg. I thought it was the spider. Oh, no. Bill, what's going to happen to us? God, this is what... Don't cry. Please don't cry. Bill!

Well, Mr. Martin, are the terms satisfactory to you? Oh, yes, sir, very much so. Thank you, sir. It's going to be a great pleasure having you at the university. And I know that you'll find your association with us a real incentive to carrying on your work with a growth rate. I'm sure of that. I'll do my very best to be accredited to the university and to scientific research. Now, my boy, it's time for you to leave if you want to catch the 610 and be home to tell your wife.

You just get home and you'll find that there's an explanation for why she didn't answer the phone all day. I'm sure you're right. Thank you again, Dean. Thank you very much. Feel better now, Mrs. Martin? I guess so, Bill. I'm all cried out.

I have no tear left. Look, Mrs. Martin, I'm going to try to reach the window. The window? The moth is back on the couch. I think I can make a run for the window once I push the chair aside a little. But he might attack you. Or me. Well, maybe he won't. But he really will. The moth is so big. Six feet high. Bill, what would happen to either of us if he did attack? I would be eaten alive. Do they have teeth? Really? Chilis? The moth eat all sorts of things.

George would know exactly. I had a whole group of clothes ruined last year. They're so big, so terribly big. I'm biting. Bill, I don't know what to say. I'm going to try it. Now crouch down. I'll push the chair around a little. Squeeze by between the chair and the wall and make a dash for the window. There. Chair's pushed aside. Now give me my shoes. Okay, Mrs. Youhart. You all right? Go. Go.

I'm here. I'll try to unlock the window. Look out! The boss is playing at you! Get away! Get away! Get away! Bill! Bill! Bill! He's attacking me! He's trying to kill me! Bill! Bill! Are you all right? Bill, answer me! Answer me! Bill!

No one home? The lights are off. That's better. Where can Betty have gone? Betty? Betty, are you here? Betty, where are you? Good Lord. Locked. Locked? Where's the key?

Here. George! George, darling! Oh, Betty! Oh, my darling! George! George, it was awful! Who's that? Betty, for heaven's sake! It's Bill! Bill, the grocery boy! He's killed! Killed by that... Look at that moth! I can't believe it! It's dead. It's dead.

Bill. Bill. Bill. What? Oh, Mr. Mark. Mr. Mark, you're fine. The glass broke on the floor. Let's get out of here fast. All right, sit down, Bill. For heaven's sake, what happened? Here, sit down, darling. I'll get you a drink. Here you are. Thank you. Now, now tell me. The laboratory door snapped behind us.

The giant moth was there. He knocked over the guy's cage with the spider. We thought we'd die. And I thought... I thought Bill was dead. I'll find the spider and kill it. But as for the moth, darling, despite its size, you had nothing to fear. What? Well, you see, darling, the adult moth doesn't eat. It has no mouth. Nothing to attack or kill with. Despite its size, Trichophaga tapitzella, the clothes moth, is utterly harmless. You mean it?

You mean we could have just shoot it away and opened the window? Of course, dear. The reason it's dead and why you could have waited without worrying is that a moth cannot live more than six hours in sunlight. You see, dear, all this horror was unnecessary.

Next week, a strange drama of a silver rocket and an unseen visitor from space. Be sure to listen to 2000 Plus, radio's different series. 2000 Plus is produced by Dreyer and Winn-Olson Productions, Incorporated. In today's cast, Joan Shea portrayed Betty, Larry Robinson was Bill, Ralph Bell was George, and Bill Dippus was the dean.

Music composed and played by Milton Kaye. Sound, Al April and George Cooney. Engineer, Bob Albrecht. This is Ken Marvin speaking. This program came from New York.

In ancient times, they thought that the rising of the dog star Sirius was responsible for the sultry weather of midsummer. Sirius or not, no one needs to be told that these are dog days and every sportsman knows it's perfect weather for just plain fishing.

So for the latest tips and information on how to catch everything from minnows to muskies, listen to Mutual's Rod and Gun Club of the Air every Thursday. You'll hear moderator Milo Bolton with his panel of sports experts in an informal sports session you won't want to miss. Listen to Rod and Gun Club of the Air every Thursday. You'll enjoy it.

This is the Natural Broadcasting System. ♪♪

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With resources like resume templates, mentorship events, national and local conferences, your HR journey doesn't have to stay on campus. Students gain access to SHRM resources for just $49 a year. Join today at shrm.org.

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SHRM student membership is the easiest way for students to get involved with HR outside of the classroom. Membership is only $49 a year for discounts on SHRM certification and conferences, exclusive mentorships and scholarships, and a network of nearly 340,000 HR professionals across the world. Join today at SHRM.org to launch your career in HR.

SHRM student membership is the easiest way for students to get involved with HR outside of the classroom. Membership is only $49 a year for discounts on SHRM certification and conferences, exclusive mentorships and scholarships, and a network of nearly 340,000 HR professionals across the world. Join today at SHRM.org to launch your career in HR. From Hollywood,

Lorene Tuttle in The Unexpected. The Unexpected. The Unexpected. Life is filled with the unexpected. Romantic, tragic, and mysterious endings to our most ordinary actions.

Dreams come true, or dreams are shattered by sudden twists of fate in The Unexpected. But first, a word from your announcer. The Unexpected

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

And now, Lorene Tuttle, outstanding radio and screen star in Sweet Sixteen, a drama of the unexpected. I hate them, and I hope they suffer forever and forever. I don't care if Mother locks me up here in this attic without supper. I'll still say it, I hate them.

And I always will hate them for what they did to me. It's Mother's fault, too. She could have married Ted Stanton. He has lots of money. I don't love you, Ted. That's what she said. I sneaked down the stairs and heard her say it. Love. I'd marry a man I couldn't stand if it would mean getting away from this awful house and my awful family. But not Mother. She has her pride. So why should I feel sorry for her?

And the only reason she sent me to live with the Corvins was because she wanted to get rid of me. Because she pretended it was for my own good. The Corvins have a lovely home, Janie, and I'm sure you'll be very happy there. And I'm sure that you'll be very happy to be rid of me for a month, too. Oh, Janie, you shouldn't say things like that. Well, it's true anyway. You just want to get me out of your hair for a month. That's why you planned this whole visit to Maine, isn't it? No, of course not. I'll miss you very much.

But things haven't been too easy for me, Janie. And you have seven kids and you have to work to support them. You can't afford to send me to summer camp like the rest of the girls in my class. So I have to go and stay with your stuffy old friends in Maine. Helen Corvin is not old. In fact, she's quite a bit younger than I am. Well... Janie, sometimes I wonder. You just don't love me.

You don't love me anymore. Oh. Well, I'll bet you aren't even my real mother the way you act to me. All right, Janie, let's forget about the whole thing. You don't have to stay with the Corvins if you don't want to. And I can go to summer camp? Can I, Mother, huh? I didn't say that. You know very well I can't possibly spend that kind of money when your sister needs new clothes. You could do it if you wanted to. Evelyn can wear my old dresses. Well, we'll see.

Oh, of course the Corvins are very wealthy and know a lot of interesting people. Mr. Corvin produces plays, and since you always wanted to be an actress when you grow up, well, I thought you might enjoy yourself. But under the circumstances... Oh, never mind, Mother. I'll go. I'll go to the Corvins, all right. You can stop worrying. Can't be any worse than spending the summer in this dump. Nothing could be worse than this dump. ♪♪

The Corbin's had a nice house, all right. It wasn't very big, but it sat all by itself on a little spit of land sticking out of the bay. It had a high-peaked roof, and it looked clean and pretty. There were lots of flowers around. I could hear the waves beating against the rocks below as I walked up the path and knocked on the weather-beaten door. Mrs. Corbin answered the door. No butler, no maid. She came herself. Right then, I began to get suspicious.

She looked pretty enough for an elderly woman. She must have been 36 or 37, but she was well-preserved and her voice sounded almost young. Yes? I'm Janie Klinger. Oh, hello, Janie. Why didn't you let us know you were coming today? I'd have met you at the station. I didn't expect to be met. I can find my way around. Well, come inside, dear, and I'll show you to your room.

Here, let me help you with your suitcase. I'll bring it. Oh, all right. Walter, my husband, is out on the lake sailing. He'll be in for dinner, though, and you'll meet him then. I see. And that's it, Jenny, just the three of us. We'd closed our house in town, and I didn't bring up any of the servants.

I thought it'd be more fun to do our own cooking and take care of things ourselves. Sort of like camping out. I wouldn't know. I've never been on a camping trip. Oh, that's too bad, but maybe we can make up for that this summer. Maybe, Mrs. Gordon. Maybe. Just like camping out. We didn't bring any servants. No, they didn't need to. They had me to do all the work. That was what they wanted me to visit them for, so I'd be a free maid.

Why, the first night after dinner when Mrs. Corbin, or Aunt Helen as she wanted to be called, was washing the dishes, she shoved a damp towel at me and said, Here, Janie, suppose you dry and then we'll get done faster. And the next day, when Uncle Walter was driving into town, he remarked, just casually, of course. What say you come on in with me, Janie? You can buy the groceries from Mrs. Corbin and we could have lunch in a little place down by the wharf. Make a lark out of it. What do you say?

Yeah, just a lark so I could do their shopping for them. Be a servant for them. I hated him and I hated her. And the most of all, I hated the way they lived. If the Carvins had had kids, they'd go to camps and to Europe and to nice finishing schools. But me, I'd never be anything but dirt under their feet. Somebody from a dingy house who they could get to work up in the country for nothing just because they called it a vacation.

I hated them for weeks. And then I decided to get even. If I could never be happy, if I could never have the things that they did, I'd see that they didn't enjoy them either. I'd fix this. So one evening when Aunt Helen went to bed early, I sat and watched Uncle Walter doing a crossword puzzle. About time for you to be asleep, isn't it, Janie? No, not yet, Uncle Walter. I'm not tired. Well, all right.

I guess a few minutes more won't make any difference. Gee, yes, well, thanks. Thank you, Jenny. I'm glad you like being with us. Oh, I like you, Uncle Walter. And Helen, you like her, don't you? Well, she's different from you, Uncle Walter. Whenever you're not here, she hardly pays any attention to me at all. I guess she's nice enough in her way, but she has other things to talk about. Other things? Oh, sure.

All the letters she writes and the long-distance phone calls to New York. Who's Tony, Uncle Walter? Tony Abbott, an old friend of ours. I see. He called yesterday afternoon. Helen told me. What sort of a person is he? Actor. Nice chap. Why? Oh, I just wondered. And Helen sent me outside while she talked to him. Why did she do that, Uncle Walter? I haven't any idea.

Uncle Walter pretended that he didn't know what I was talking about. But he did, really. And I kept pounding away at him for the next two days. Tony Abbott, Tony Abbott, Tony Abbott. He began to look worried and tired.

When the phone rang several nights later, he grabbed it and told the person on the other end that Mrs. Corbin wasn't home, even though she was standing right beside him. They had a fight. It was the first time they'd quarreled since I'd been with them. And the argument went on after I'd gone to bed. I could hear the shouting in the bedroom until three in the morning. They didn't speak to each other at breakfast except about how the eggs should be fixed.

When Uncle Walter left for the village, Aunt Helen didn't kiss me goodbye. So, I decided that the time had come for me to have a heart-to-heart talk with her, too. Aunt Helen? Yes, dear? I couldn't help hearing you and Uncle Walter last night. Oh, I'm sorry we disturbed you. Oh, I didn't mind that. I just hoped you weren't quarreling about me. About you? Yes, I...

I thought maybe you'd find out. Well? Oh, nothing, nothing, Aunt Helen. Just forget it. What might I have found out about? Well, I don't think it really meant anything. I'm sorry I mentioned it. Go ahead, Janie. Well, I suppose you ought to know. Maybe I should have told you before when it happened. But I just couldn't. I was too ashamed. Ashamed? Yes. Remember last week, the night you went to bed early? Yes. I stayed downstairs with Uncle Walter, and I was feeling a little homesick.

And I thought he was just being nice and fatherly, but... Oh, Janie, no. He kissed me. And, well, it wasn't a fatherly kiss. I had to slap him and push him away. And I felt all sick inside, and I wanted to leave you both. But he made me promise not to and said he'd never touch me again. And he hasn't, Aunt Helen. He's kept his word. So you'll forgive him, won't you? No, Janie. I won't forgive him. Not ever. No.

That same afternoon, Aunt Helen packed her suitcase and left for Reno. And Uncle Walter read her note. He called Mother to come up and take me home. And then he got drunk. Very drunk. Served them right, both of them. That's what they got for treating me like a servant. And they're not going to be happy anymore. And all their money won't make them happy. They're going to get a divorce. And I'm glad. I'm so very...

You think the story is over, don't you? But wait. Fate takes a hand. Wait for the unexpected. The End

Thank you.

And now for the surprising conclusion of Sweet Sixteen, starring Lorene Tuttle, a Hamilton Whitney production written by Robert Libet and Frank Burt and directed by Frank K. Danzig. So that's what happened to the Carvins, and it's their fault and Mother's.

He could have said something. Mother didn't need to wait until supper tonight before she explained. Well, Janie, it's too bad about Helen and Walter. Is it? Well, at least from your point of view. What do you mean? Didn't they tell you? Tell me what? Well, that they'd been thinking about a divorce, and Helen felt maybe it was because they didn't have any children. So she arranged for you to spend the summer with them.

If it had worked out, they'd have taken you to live with them permanently. And you'd have had servants and trips abroad and college. Everything a girl could hope for. You mean they were planning to keep me as their own daughter? Of course. Didn't they ever tell you, Janie? Sweet Sixteen starred Laureen Tuttle. Listen soon for another of your favorite motion picture stars in a drama of The Unexpected.

This program was transcribed in Hollywood. ♪♪

*Gunshots*

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SHRM student membership is the easiest way for students to get involved with HR outside of the classroom. Membership is only $49 a year for discounts on SHRM certification and conferences, exclusive mentorships and scholarships, and a network of nearly 340,000 HR professionals across the world. Join today at SHRM.org to launch your career in HR.

At Arizona State University, we're bringing world-class education from our globally acclaimed faculty to you. Ranked number one in innovation for 10 consecutive years and number two among public universities for employability. ASU isn't just ahead of the curve, it's creating new paths to success. Earn your degree from the nation's most innovative university. Online, that's a degree better. Explore more than 300 undergraduate, graduate, and certificate programs at asuonline.asu.edu.

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That's a degree better. Explore more than 300 undergraduate, graduate, and certificate programs at asuonline.asu.edu. KMA 907, Sacramento Police to Unit 99. Are you in the clear? Unit 99 to KMA 907. Unit 99, Sergeant Guthrie, 909. In service and on the air.

This is Sergeant Bruce Guthrie of Unit 99 at headquarters, Police Department, City of Sacramento, California. My detail is to ride in Unit 99, a tape recorder equipped radio car, and to respond whenever the dispatcher transmits a signal to one of our other units on duty somewhere in the city. At the scene, we make the recordings for this program.

Now, to tell you more about Unit 99, here's our chief, James V. Hicks, Sacramento Police. Unit 99 is a regulation radio patrol unit of the Sacramento Police Department, cruising the streets with a tape recorder. Sergeant Guthrie is on duty and works for your protection, as every police officer does. He can and does make arrests.

His orders are to respond to the radio call. You go with him and what you hear is real. Police, criminals, victims, and witnesses are all real. And whether an arrest is made or the subject released, what happens is real. Make no mistake about that. Now to Unit 99 and Sergeant Bruce Guthrie on duty. Unit 8. The 211 at Stockton and Fruit Ridge, the M&L Liquor Store. Check 8. KMA 907.

Just had a 211 out in District 8, a liquor store. It's quite a ways out, but we better cover it. We had a 211 at the M&L liquor store, stopped in the footbridge. One suspect, JMA 32, said he was wearing a light jacket, seen going west on footbridge down foot. Mr. Walder and Brian are talking to the proprietor. Hi, Bill. Hello, Brian.

What have you got so far? Well, we've got an upset operator here. That's what she's got. That's understandable. Would you mind telling us what happened, sir? Well, frankly, I don't know other than the man came in here and he asked me if I was about ready to close. And I says, no, it's not for about an hour. And he said, well, that's good enough with me. Just hand over your paper money. Did he have a gun? He certainly did.

One with a barrel about two inches long. I don't know what caliber that it was. I said, don't you want any cash? He says, no, just give me the paper money. He says, fold it up and put it in the bag. You tell me whether it was a revolver or not? I'm not knowing guns too well. You could probably tell me better than I could. It had a snub nose on it about this long. Probably was an automatic. No.

Right here with his hand on it and and he got it down and put it toward me and I was told I give him the money and I'll have to fight other building the till which is still here He didn't even question me. He just walked through his is there back interest here and I said well certain as the back end and say he walked out you see the door that's open right there she can get out that race or that took the other way because he was going out he just the down phone off the hook

I see. He left the phone laying right there. He just pulled this off and put it up to his ear, and then he grabbed this darn thing and went, and then he went out there. He was talking to me after there was a back entrance, and I said, well, of course there is. And then he opened that door, and of course he couldn't get out that way, so then he finally found his own way out the other way. But he did pull the phone clear off of the wall, is that right? No, just what you see. It hasn't been touched. I tried to look at his hair and everything else, and...

He wasn't out to architect, I still say, like I said before, he's between a blonde and a brown. He's light complected. Did he have any scars or marks? I don't know, he's done this as close as me and this gentleman is. I look at him too, and all the while I'm watching that gun too. Did you notice what kind of pants he had on?

No, but he, as near as I remember, he had a jacket on that was kind of a blazer. It was kind of an army color. All you could see was the barrels again. Yeah, no problem. Had you ever seen this man before in the shop here, sir?

Not to my knowledge. The only thing he said to me was, I'm sorry to do this, but this is a must. Would you know him again if you saw him? I kind of think I would. Did you see what direction he went after he left the rear of the store? I did not. I didn't have a chance. I dashed right out of the back end and went to the next door of this Chinese restaurant and had them call the place right now.

Say, Walter, did you go next door and check upon the other witness? Yes, Sergeant. We talked to Sam Fong. He's the owner of the Lampachina Cafe next door. What did he have to say? When the victim here went into his place to phone, Mr. Fong ran out to the back of the alley and he stated he saw a car pulling away.

Going north through the alley. Did he give you any description on it? He states it was too dark and he couldn't see very well. He could give us no description of the car. He couldn't even give us the color. Did he see how many people were in it?

No, he says he couldn't see. It was too dark. He thinks there was only one. He says he thinks there was only one in the car, though. Just the driver, then? Yes, just the driver. No way of knowing if that was actually the car that the stick-up man used. No, we couldn't positively state that, Sergeant. How did you find out that the man was running west on Fruit Ridge? Well, when we talked to the proprietor next door here, we understood that he was running north on Fruit Ridge.

Out of the alley then turned west on Fruit Ridge, but we talked to him the second time and he says he saw the car go out of the alley on Fruit Ridge. He didn't actually see the man on foot at all? No, it's just a little confusing there on his part. First report of a crime is frequently the most important one. In this case, the officers were looking for a hold-up man who left the scene on foot.

As it developed, however, there was a misunderstanding and the units should have been watching for an automobile. Let me emphasize also the importance of being observant. If you are ever confronted by a criminal, descriptions of appearance and mannerisms are invaluable to the police. We have a 940 with car 9 out by the junior college.

They have found a building open. I believe it's the machine shop. There's a car park near it that they believe might be connected with the buildings being open. We're going to meet them and check it out. Unit 99, on that suspect in the Packard, they are now taking him to the M&L to see if they can make identification on 211. Check and thanks. While we were in the detective bureau, I received information

that they had stopped a Packard somewhere in the eastern part of town. And it's believed the suspect in the 211 on Stockton Boulevard earlier this evening was driving that car. They have taken the suspect to the liquor store for identification. If he is identified, he will be brought to the police station and we will go in there and sit in on the questioning. Unit 9 is standing by this building. The door is open. They have a man inside.

Officer Taylor is approaching your car. Hi, Taylor. What do you got? Sergeant. Well, we cruised around here, and we saw this car trying to pull out. This light's off between the two ticket officers over there, and we stopped them. We looked in the car, and he had a siphon hose and a couple of tanks, and checked around here, and there was a bar underneath the car, like a pry bar. We checked around here and found this door open. Had the door been pried open? Well, it's got a lot of nicks on it. You can't tell whether it's been busted or not.

Is the lock in working order? The lock is in working order. We had the radio contact the man who runs this thing for the college here, and he's going to come out. We found tools in the back of the car there, and we want to see if they're missing from in here. Could they be burglar tools? Well, they could be. There's all kinds of tools in the back of his trunk. He's got several cans, gas cans and hoses. Well, let us get out of the car here, and we'll go into it further. Hi, McManus.

Was this the door that you found open? Yes, sir. I walked up here and it was slightly ajar. I pulled on it and it opened. And this fellow here came over and he said that he just ran out of gas and he had the car pulled back there to keep it out of the way. He took his girlfriend home to 31st and 3rd Avenue.

and got five gallons of gas and then come back out here to the college in, well, he said 45 minutes. Why did he come back to the college, did he tell you? Uh, to put gas in the car. He said that, uh, when we pulled up, we checked on the other end of the building here and we didn't see any lights. As we pulled around the corner, why, he started up in his automobile without any lights on. We asked him how come that he was driving without lights and he said he just started the car and he saw us and that he didn't want to attract our attention and that he... Oh, he didn't say that.

And he started to, he waited for us, as a matter of fact. And then when we pulled up, he started driving. We had to tell him to stop. Subject states that he ran out of gas. And there's an all-night gas station within a block from here. And he states he went all the way over to behind Carl's driving to get gas because he walked his girl home. Was this the fellow, Taylor? Yes, sir. Have you questioned him at all? We have. What do you got to say about this fellow? I don't know. You want to tell the sergeant about him?

Well, what? Well, you parked out here, and while you were out, we went for gas. I went over and picked up my girlfriend this evening after work, after I had dinner. And we were just out driving around, and I drove around here. And as I got up to the edge of the building there, well, the car started acting funny. And I just started turning around here, and it ran out of gas. So I pushed it back in there, just so it would be out of the way. And then I walked over to her place with her, lit her off, then I walked down to the...

I think it's a regal station down behind Carl's on Broadway there and hitchhike back from there Did you take the can with you? You want your girl home? Yeah, you carry the can with her doing the girl all the way over to her house the five gallon can And then you filled it full of gas of five gallons. Yes, then you brought it back here Not just one but five gallons. That's right. No, that doesn't sound like a very good story to me Why doesn't it because it's not logical. What were you actually doing here?

by this building? I wasn't by this building. I was over there, just behind where the car is parked now. It still isn't logical. You're close to a building. The door is found open. There's a pry bar found under your car. There's tools found in the back. Where'd the tools come from? Those are my tools. I bought them from where I work. What kind of tools are they? They're proto-automotive tools. They're all automotive tools? Yeah, they're socket wrenches,

flyers, brake flyers, screwdrivers. Here comes the man who... Have you ever been in trouble? No, I haven't. Never been arrested? Never. How old are you? 19. I see they're checking the back of the car. Did you find anything that could possibly have come from your building? I don't know about the auto shop, but I didn't find anything from the machine shop. Taylor, do you find any initials on any of those tools? Just a little chip in the shoe. Okay.

Do you have any of your tools marked at all? No, I don't. Mechanics is a general rule. Mark their tools, don't they? Well, I'm not really a mechanic. I just do my own work. What are you going to do with this fellow now? Oh, wait till the instructor of the automotive shop. He knows what all the equipment is in here. We'll have him check out the equipment in the car there and see if any of it matches here. If not, we'll...

have to let him go because uh got nothing to hold him on there's a form you fill out in a case like this isn't there oh we got the interrogation card i fill on them and we'll fill that one out in case we are dinner what's the purpose of that well this is in case we ever his fellow returns up from a situation similar or anything like this we'll have his name and uh known what he was doing in here before and uh

That car does also run through a beer buyer, doesn't it? Yes, it is. It's checked and gets his record. If he has a record in it, I'll find it there. I'm sure you will agree that there was some basis for the officer's belief that this man had stolen gasoline from another car. His account of his actions was not logical, but there was nothing to indicate that the machine shop had been entered and the suspect was released. Unit 99. 99, go ahead. 924, second floor, 99. Second floor, roger.

Check 99, KME 907. That could be that 2-11 suspect they picked up, Dan. Yeah, it could be. Let's hear what he has to say. Hello, Oaks and Fox. I just got a 924 to come up here. What do you have? Oh, we got these two boys they picked up out in front of that M&M liquor store shortly after the L&M liquor store had been held up. So we're going to have a little chat with them. Want to talk to you a little bit about your actions the other night out there?

We had a stick up at the M&L Liquor Store, and a guy out there kind of thinks you're one of the guys that's involved in it. Maybe not so much you as your partner, but he thinks you're the man who was driving the car. What do you got to say about it? I didn't have anything to do with it. It wasn't ever near the joint. Can you give us a little account of your time prior to that robbery? Well, down 6th Street, around a few bars down there.

met this friend of mine and borrowed his car. I had to go out and borrow some money from another friend of mine out in the club out here. When you left uptown, do you know what time it was? Well, I'd say it was about 10 or 10.30 around there. About 10 or 10.30 when you left uptown? Positively, no. I was around drinking, you know. I don't remember exactly. Where did you go then after you left uptown? I went down J Street, stopped in the one liquor store, got a couple of cans of beer. I don't remember which one it was.

Then we went out and finally wound up going down Stockton Boulevard.

and stopped at this one, the M&M there, and got two more cans of beer. Well, how come that you denied being out at the M&M? Oh, when these all the policemen drove up and pulled us over to the curb and jumped out and started talking about the liquor store or something being robbed out there, naturally I ain't gonna admit I wasn't there in any liquor stores. Yeah, but that wasn't the liquor store that was held up. This was another liquor store. They didn't tell me where it was at. They asked you if you were out in front of the M&M liquor store and you...

You said no. You couldn't have been there. That's what I said. I wasn't going to admit nothing right then. The clerk out at the store got the license number of the car. That's why you were picked up. I didn't know anything about that. The M&L was the one that you started talking about later, wasn't it? The M&L is the one that was held up, but the M&M is the one where you were parked in front of the store out there. I know.

Jimmy went in, got a couple of cans of beer, and come back out. How long have we known this friend of yours that was with you? Knew him up at the joint. You know him at the penitentiary? Sure, I know him up there. Olsen? Yeah, Olsen. Whose car was it you ran out there? Oh, just a friend of mine. Friend of yours, that's right. How long have you had the car?

prior to being arrested? Part of that day before I borrowed it from him and then this afternoon I borrowed it again. You borrow it quite often, do you? I don't know. The guy just got out of jail a while back and I got it out of him, gave him the money to get it out of the parking lot with him.

Where'd you meet him at? In the jail. In the jail? Yeah. Were you in jail here before? Yeah, he was doing about, how long ago was it? 10 days, 15 days ago. What were you in for? For a bag. What else? Suspicion of burglary or possession of burglary tools. Possession of burglary tools, huh? Have you ever been arrested and convicted on burglary? Twice. Twice? Twice.

You've run into the penitentiary two times? I had two running concurrently. You know where the M&L Liquor is? Well, they took me over there afterwards and let the guy that owns the store look at me and he says that I never saw him before. That's not one of them. That's what he said to you? He said that to me, yeah. What did he say to your partner? Give him a pass too. When Jimmy came out, he says, give me a pass.

That made you feel pretty secure then? It made me feel a little better. They've been out there, you know, riding us around and telling us all about it, but I knew I hadn't done nothing. Why were you out in that particular area? I went out over to the club of this friend of mine's. You do? I got some money from him. You do most of your drinking in the lower end of town, isn't that correct? I know. I drink out of this club sometimes. There's two of them out there. I know bartenders in both of them. I know the owners of them.

I've been out there quite a few times before. But you don't make it a habit? Every night. Well, maybe once or twice a week. Every time this guy gets off of 6th Street, he ends up in jail. Yeah, that's right. Every time that he leaves 6th Street...

Don and I get him to talk to you. Next time I get off of 6th Street, I'm going to be clear out of town and gone. Believe me. You deny emphatically, however, that you're implicated in any type of a stick-up of any kind. That's not... That never been my racket. I never pulled out of the ice of my life. I ain't never going to. Yeah, but you got a ice man working with you. Oh, he's...

Jimmy didn't do it. When he went in there, he come out and the man looked at him and said, you know, give him a pass. Twice. He's a heist man. The guy looked at us both out there. He says, that's not the guys. Haven't seen them before. Are you working now? Not right now. I'm in jail. Have you worked since you got out of jail last time that we talked to you?

No, I haven't. I've been trying to get a job all over town, and nobody will give me a job then in Barbie because they figure I've got to put too much heat on the joint. What happened? What was your disposition on the last time you were in? This last time, I'm out on bail now. You're still out on bail pending disposition? All the charges were dropped at the bag. I'm out on bail on the bag charges. What kind of record does this fellow have? Oh, he's got quite a record. He's...

We had him here a few years back for burglary, for breaking into hardware stores and drug stores, a lot of other types of stores. How much time have you spent in the penitentiary? Let's see, four and a half, maybe about seven and a half years. Seven and a half years, and you're how old now? 41. 41 years old, and you put on seven and a half years. Last ten, I guess. Out of the last ten? About seven and a half. Are you on parole now? No.

I'm not on parole. When were you discharged from prison? Last summer, last August. Last August, huh? On this robbery of the liquor store out there, the clerk out there, he feels sure that your partner's fellow was in there that held him up. He didn't act like that when I was out there. Well, I know.

You know, at the time a crime happens, why, people are a little bit excited. When you go in there and stick a gun in a man's face, he's going to get excited. Well, I'd say we didn't go anywhere near the M&L. We turned off about 12th Avenue there and went over to Franklin. You sure you didn't borrow some money with a gun out there at that other liquor store? Absolutely sure I didn't. The actions of this suspect and his associate were sufficiently suspicious to cause the clerk and another establishment to call the police.

but the inability of the holdup victim to identify either man made it impossible to charge him with armed robbery. The suspect you heard questioned was sentenced to six months in the county jail for vagrancy with commitment withheld for two years on a floater. This is Unit 99. These on-the-scene tape recordings were provided by the Sacramento Police Department and were made on duty by Sergeant Bruce Guthrie in Unit 99.

Your host is Chief James V. Hicks of the Sacramento Police Department. KMA 907, Sacramento Police. Unit 99, are you in the clear? Unit 99 to KMA 907. Unit 99, Sergeant Meredith, 909, in service, on the air. Unit 99 has come to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. ♪♪

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

♪♪♪

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Unsolved Mysteries Truth is stranger than fiction.

We are endeavoring to bring to you little-known mysteries of the entire world. And in this series of unexplained true happenings, we cannot overlook the puzzling and weird practices found in voodooism. There are strange stories of zombies. Stories which filter into the world of everyday life, leaving no room for doubt that within the cult of voodooism in Haiti, zombies do exist. ♪♪

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♪ ♪

The scene is glamorous Haiti, a few miles from Port-au-Prince.

A long, low, rambling bungalow bathed in the liquid beams of a silver moon faces the open sea. Behind the cape rises in serried ridges of blacks and purples. And beyond that, faintly ominous, the deep, constant rhythm of the voodoo drums seems to belong to another world. Three men sit on the lanai or veranda facing the beach. One of them, tall, slender, young in years but with gray hair and blind face, stares out into nothing.

The elderly man by his side looks at the third and raises bushy eyebrows. The third man, a stranger to I.E.T., speaks. Very decent of you fellows to invite me out here. I sort of feel that, well, that I'm putting you to a lot of extra work. Not a bit of it. Servants take care of all the extra work. We're glad of your company. Clark. Yes, Strong? I'm going down there. You must? Yes. But don't be long. I won't. But don't wait up for me. Good night. Good night. Good night.

In a moment, after Strong's out of hearing, I'll be able to explain. That's all right. I think I understand. Just a minute. I'll look down the pathway. Yes, he's gone all right.

In spite of what he said, we can't turn in. And although you're a stranger here, I'm going to do what white men have to do in the tropics. I'm going to ask for your help, if I need it. You won't have to ask twice. I didn't think so. That's why I asked you at the hotel if you'd like to come out to our place. A few moments ago, you said you thought you understood. Yes, I know, of course. But it was just a year ago today that Strong's wife died. I was in New York at the time, and we were all very much upset.

I never knew Strong, but I went to school with his wife, Helen. Well, it isn't because of his wife's death that I want you tonight. It's because of what happened after her death. After her death? Yes. Do you know where Strong went just now? No. He went down to her grave, as he has every night for six months or more. Good heavens, why? That's what I'm going to explain. When Strong first came out here, he had a native servant girl. Clarissa, her name was. Attractive little thing. And she fell in love with Strong. Strong never gave her a thought.

But you know native women. Yes, of course. Well, Helen came out here. And the night before their marriage, they were sitting just about here on the veranda.

Oh, John, it's so grand to be here with you. And what do you think it is for me, darling, to have you here in my arms, to know that tomorrow you'll be mine forever, darling? Yes, John, forever. When I think of the nights I've sat out here dreaming, watching the ships sailing for the States...

And then other nights, when I've watched these same steamers come into the harbor and tried to imagine what you'd look like standing there on the deck, coming out to me. Did your dream come true, dear, or did you find me changed? Oh, a little changed, yes, darling, but better than a thousand dreams.

It's eleven o'clock, darling. Time for little girls to be in bed. Especially when they're going to be married in the morning. I hate to think of driving you out of your bungalow even for one night. I could just as easily escape it than one time. Oh, not a bit of a dear. It'll take me less than five minutes to walk down to Clark's place.

Good night, dear. Good night, John. John. Clarissima, what on earth are you doing here at this time of night? Why aren't you home with your father? I have been watching you. You've been watching me? You and the woman. What's the matter with you?

What's come over you? What business have you watching us? I have every business. You belong to me. I belong to you? What rubbish is this you're talking? No rubbish, John. You have belonged to me since that night that the Volcar placed his spell upon you. Have you been drinking, Clarissima? You know I do not drink.

John, if you marry this woman, I tell you something. In three months, she will be dead. Oh, now listen, Clarissima. I'm not afraid of your bokors, your voodoos, or your wangas. I have told you. Marry that woman, and before the setting of the third moon, she will be dead. Clarissima spoke the truth. Before the third moon had set, Helen was dead. In his grief, John gave no thought to her prophecy, gave no thought to the warning that the wango or spell of the bokor had been placed upon her.

Clark, John Strong's friend, came to live with him. And one afternoon, Strong, arriving home earlier than usual, came up the veranda steps in time to hear Clark talking to one of the native servants. I tell it to you, master. I have heard it too many times. It's nonsense, Lomer. Just jungle talk. Native rubbish. No, master. Many times before, white man, he say rubbish. But me, Lomer...

He sees zombie. Not one zombie. Not two. But many zombies work back there in sugarcane fields. But not a white woman, Loma. No one ever saw... What's all this, Clark? Oh, we were just talking. Didn't hear you come in. I know you didn't. I'm sorry, old man, but I listened. Oh. Yes, I listened.

I know you were talking about Helen. Now, what was it? Oh, just jungle nonsense. Nothing to even think about. I'll be the best judge of that. Tell me, Loma. No. No, Master. If Master understand, he know us. Tell me, Loma. Oh, come strong. You're making a fuss over nothing. Loma!

Yes, must did I ever beat you? No must I'm going to Loma beat you till you can't stand if you don't tell me some John This is no way to behave. I tell you you come with me and I'll explain come where come along and I'll show you Together the two men leave the bungalow Loma his eyes filled with tears stands at the top of the lanai steps and watches them disappear into the underbrush. I

Down toward the sea, Clark leads the way. His set jaw, the only answer to Strong's question. But, Clark, this pathway doesn't lead any place except to the cemetery. I know it. That's where we're going. What in heaven's name is it all about? Why don't you tell me? I want to prove that the whole thing is nonsense before I tell you. I thought you were my friend. I'm friend enough to want to save your reason. Come on.

Oh, there's an open grave. Go ahead. I want to get that spade. Clark. Clark. What? Helen's grave. It's been opened. What? Her grave, Clark. It's been opened. You'll find out in a minute. Now stand back while I dig. Oh, let me, Clark. Let me. No. It ought to be. Not yet. Clark. Clark.

Clark, the casket's gone. These devils have taken her. My Helen, for their damnable voodoo. No, John, no. Zombies. At breakneck speed, the two men race back to their bungalow. Loma from the veranda sees them coming up the pathway and runs to meet them. In silence, Clark points to the brush, and Loma in the lead breaks into the thick tropic grove. Dusk finds them struggling up the steep slopes of the cape with that energy born of frenzied fear and nameless horror.

Loma holds up his hand. In the strained silence, the men listen to the sharp crack of cane knives on stalks of cane. The crackling of falling cane leaves. Loma motions strong to come forward. He forces aside the sugar cane and stares horror-stricken into the clearing. "Hellum! Hellum! Hellum!"

Horrible clock. Ghastly story. You understand now why John acts as he does... and why I wanted you here tonight. Then she was buried alive? No, she wasn't buried alive. But she wasn't dead? Yes, she was dead. She was a zombie. A dead person raised from the grave. A body without mind or soul. But it's impossible. That's what I said to Loma. No, Helen was dead. Killed by the curse brought on her... by Clarissa's jealous hatred...

and raised from the grave to be a zombie by the same voodooism that killed her. Yes, yes. Clarissima, what happened to her? The natives killed her. And Helen, you buried her again? After we had fed her salt. Salt? Yes, salt. If zombies eat anything containing salt, they return to their graves in peace. And you fed her salt? Yes, she crumpled up at our feet. Dead. Really dead.

Out of deference to people who are still alive, character names in these unsolved mysteries have been changed. Inasmuch as any solution must of necessity be supposition, liberties of time, place, and character exist in the solution that will be presented after you have heard from your sponsor. ♪♪

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♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ 11 ♪ 11 the first a. a. a. a. a. a. a.

Ladies and gentlemen, the solution for which you've been waiting. Have you really a reasonable explanation of how such a thing could have happened? I'll answer that by asking you a question. Do you think that any explanation of such a ghastly affair could be classified as reasonable? No, I suppose not.

but it happened in the life of a how could it have the best place don't imagine that the night later k so serious of the matter of the bomb is in the island of haiti but the government has been compelled to pass the following law article two forty nine a copen our republic of haiti also shall be qualified as attempted murder the employment which may be made against any person of substances which

without causing actual death, produces a lethargic coma more or less prolonged. If, after the administration of such substances, the person has been buried, the act shall be considered murder, no matter what the result that follows. And the government thinks that these zombies are people who have been poisoned.

and who have been certified as dead and buried, while in the state of suspended animation. I mean that they have been given a poison that kills the brain, but leaves their motor faculties unimpaired. Between you and me, I don't think that the government really believes that. But after all, how would you try to claim a law against taking corpses out of their graves and making them work in the cane field? Yes, I see the difficulty there.

But just the same, I don't see how even voodooism can make a corpse walk. Have you ever heard of inanimate objects being moved by the power of mind? Yes, I have. And isn't it possible that the same worker in black magic or voodooism that killed a person by power of mind could take that inanimate object to the corpse and make it move? Do you believe that? Yes. And I'll give you the final proof, at least in my way of thinking. What is that? The fact that the natives themselves killed Clarissima, the native girl, because they knew that with the assistance of the witch doctors, she killed and...

made a zombie out of Helen.

*BOOM*

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Dark Venture.

Over the minds of mortal men come many shadows. Shadows of greed and hate, jealousy and fear. Darkness is the absence of light. So in the sudden shadows which fog the minds of men and women are to be found the strange impulses.

which urged them on to their venture in the dark. And now, for tonight's venture in the dark, we bring you Mr. Charles Barrett in Eclipse. Tell me, Mr. Police Commissioner, how long ago did life begin for you?

40, 45 years ago? Well, life for me began about 24 hours ago. Yeah, 24 hours ago, I woke up. I was lying in a ditch beside a railroad track. When I first opened my eyes, I saw the sky. It was clear and very blue. I sat up and saw that my knee was sticking out through a hole in my pants, that all my clothes were dirty and torn. I started thinking, wait a minute, what's happened to me? I rubbed my eyes like you do when you first wake up. My hand ran across something sticky. I looked at my hand. Blood. Blood.

Yeah, dry, sticky blood. I figured I must have fallen off a train or been thrown off. I got up. Then this bum started walking up to me. I could see him quite a way off. Yeah, young fella? Yeah. You hurt? No, I'm all right. What's the matter? Nothing. I'm all right. Dizzy, I guess. You've been kind of banged around. Yeah, I guess I have. I'd better rest a bit. Sure, Pete, sure. That's the idea. What happened? Get bumped off the rods? I don't know.

Well, how'd you be in a ditch if you wasn't bumped off to rods, huh? I don't know, I tell you. Okay, Pete, okay. My name isn't Pete. Oh, well, I just call everybody that. Um, what is your name? My name is... My name... Well? I can't remember my name. You can't remember? Are you kidding? What are you trying to pull? Don't even know your own name. I tell you it's true. I don't know. I can't remember. It's not so easy to forget your own name, Pete. Look, don't ride me. Something's happened to me.

I don't know just what, but something's wrong. Well, where you from? What? Where you from? I don't know that either. Well, what are you trying to get away with, Joe? You can let me in on it. I won't spill. I'm not trying to get away with anything. I just can't think. I just can't remember. It's crazy. Hey, you really got it bad, ain't you, Joe? Well, let me see. I was... No, it's no use. Hey, look in your pockets. Maybe you'll find something with your name on it. Yeah, maybe. I never thought of that. At least it's a chance. Yeah. But, uh... What's wrong now?

There's nothing in my pockets. They're empty. You're in bad shape. You don't know who you are, where you're from. You ain't got nothing in your pockets. Where are you heading? I can't remember. Well, if I was you, the first thing I'd do is try to find out who I am. That's kind of important. Yeah. Well, I seen the train pass through, the train you fell off of. And I don't know where it was headed for. But I do know where it started out from. Where? Chicago.

Chicago? Yeah. Now, the thing for you to do is head right back to Chicago and start asking questions. And, oh, maybe you better pay a little visit to the hospital and have them look at your beam. Now, Pete, you don't look so good to me. You don't look good at all. Yes, Mr. Commissioner, that's how it started, with loss of memory. Amnesia.

That was bad enough. But if I'd known how much bigger and more terrible my problems were going to be, I never would have come back to Chicago. Anyway, I hitchhiked in. When I saw how people were looking at my torn clothes, I thought I'd better pay a visit to a tailor.

Good afternoon. Come in. Thank you. Such a beautiful day. I don't feel like working already, but when it's got to be, it's got to be. What can I do for you? Well, my clothes... Such a mess. You had an accident, eh? Yeah, I'm afraid I did. What's the matter with me? Sit down, sit down. You look terrible. You could use a little drink, some brandy maybe? No, thanks. I feel okay now. I'd just like to have these clothes sewn up and pressed a little.

Could you do it while I wait? Certainly, and with pleasure. Look, go into the back room and throw your clothes through the door. You'll find the wash basin. You can wash that cut on your face. That's very kind of you. There's only one thing. Yes? I'm flat broke. I couldn't pay you for them now. Maybe in a day or so. All right, a day or so, a week or so. Go and make yourself at home. And while you're washing up, I'll mend the pants. I'll get them in first-class shape. So I went into the tailor's little back room and took off my suit...

Then I went over to the washstand and started to wash. My head felt better as soon as I got a little cool water on it. I sat down. I tried to figure what would I do. Where would I go from here? Then I noticed something about my pants belt. It was bulky. It had a little zipper in back. When I opened it, money started falling out in tight rolls. Bills were crisp and new. I thought my heart was beating loud enough for the tailor to hear it as I counted the money. There was $50,000. Hey, mister, how are you coming with the clothes? Huh? Oh.

Oh, yeah. They're ready. I'll hand them to you through the door. Good. I'll have them fixed up like new in no time. You sit there and relax. You look like you can stand it. Yeah, relax. Relax with 50,000 bucks strapped around my stomach. Well, little Taylor fixed my clothes and I look fairly respectable again. You know, I never seen such nice material in a long time as that suit. Is that so? Yes. It cost a beautiful dollar, believe me. Where did you get it? Where did...

Wasn't there a label on it? No, the label had been ripped off, so why am I asking so many questions? Goodbye and good luck. What do I owe you? So when you earn a few dollars, come back and we'll figure it out, eh? Well, let's do it. About $20? But before you said you were broke. This I don't understand. That makes two of us, my friend. THE END

You can imagine how I felt, can't you, Mr. Commissioner? I didn't know what to do, where to turn. I thought of going to the police, but something in my subconscious mind warned me against it. When I looked fairly respectable again, I went out on the street and began walking. I didn't know where I was going or why. Fifty thousand bucks tried with every ounce of strength to crash through the wall that separated me from my past. Oh, it was no use. I must have walked for miles, because suddenly it was dark.

I was on a dismal little side street lined with hock shops, hamburger joints, and honky tonks. And then some punk kid brushed against me. Hey, mister, you better fade fast. You're being tailed. What do you mean? A guy's been following you for the last hour. Following me? Relax, don't get so jumpy. Boy, you must really be hot. Now, look into this window. You can see his reflection. The tall, skinny guy in the white suit. I see him.

How do you know he's been following me? 'Cause I've been walking a little behind you ever since you turned down 14th Street. And I can tell when a guy's being tailed. Why are you telling me that? 'Cause maybe you'll be a big-hearted guy and slip me a bill for it. And 'cause maybe I don't like cops. Cops? Sure, sure, he's a cop. I can tell him a mile away.

Yeah, you must really be hot, mister. It's easy to say now that I know what I should have done, Mr. Commissioner. I should have gone up to this guy and had a showdown right then and there. But panic is a funny thing. It begins almost before you know it and there's no cure for it. No cure at all. I began hurrying as fast as I could.

And I didn't stop until my wind gave out and my legs weighed a ton. Then I looked back. I'd lost my friend in the white suit. For how long? I had to find a place to sleep that night. I saw this little hotel on a side street. Straightened my tie. Wiped the sweat off my face. Started through the lobby. There was no one at the desk. I rang the desk bell. A little fellow with glasses came out. Yeah? I'd like a room. Rates are a dollar and a half.

In advance. That's all right. No luggage, huh? No, I'm just staying overnight. That's all right. Very few of them bring any luggage. What's your name? Just want your name for the hotel registers, huh? My name is Bronson. Howard Bronson. Bronson. I thought for a minute you were going to say you were one of the Smith boys. Here's the key, Mr. Bronson. Okay. Now for the dollar and a half. Yeah, here. Twenty dollars? Yes.

Is that the smallest you have? That's all I have. All right, I suppose I can change it. You sure it's good? Didn't make it yourself now, did you? It's good. Oh, no offense. Just my own little joke. Okay. Take another nickel out for this newspaper. Sure thing, sure thing. And here's your change. Now, why don't you go up to bed? You look very tired. I tried to sleep, but it was no use. Why had that man in the white suit followed me? What had I done?

Not knowing. Not knowing almost drove me out of my mind. Out of my mind? I was already out of my mind. And finally I must have dozed off. Because I was suddenly in the middle of a terrible nightmare. No. No, I won't give it up. I won't stay there. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone! Bailey! Bailey!

Mr. Bronson? Mr. Bronson? What? Are you all right, Mr. Bronson? Yes, I'm all right. Who is it? The room clerk. Would you open the door for a minute? Yeah, come in. Several of the guests heard you screaming. There's nothing, just a nightmare, I guess. I'm all right now, I think. I'm glad to hear that. Is that all you wanted to know? Not exactly. Well? A detective came in a while ago inquiring about somebody.

Detective? Yeah, city detective. That is, according to the badge you showed me. Who did he want? No one named Bronson. Then why are you bothering me for? It wasn't Bronson he asked for, but his description of the man fitted you exactly. How long ago was he here? Oh, about 20 minutes ago.

Your name is Bronson, isn't it? Yeah, sure. You know it's technically against the law to register under a name. My name's Bronson. Okay. Just wanted to make sure of that, sir. You must have wanted somebody else. Says he's been checking up on all the hotels in this neighborhood. Says he might drop back later. What did he look like? Old tall fella, kind of slim, wearing a white summer suit. White summer suit? Yeah. You don't see many of those nowadays, do you? No. Yeah, you're sure you're over your nightmare, huh?

Yeah, I'm all right now. Okay, then. Good night, Mr. Bronson. Night. Oh, say. Yeah? That fellow does come back. The detective? Yeah, the detective. If he does come back, let me know. I just want both him and you to make sure I'm not the one he's looking for. Okay, Mr. Bronson. Good night. After that, I didn't want to sleep. I got very jittery. I paced the room. I smoked one cigarette after another. Why had I said that to the clerk? I couldn't be so lily white with that 50 grand strapped to me.

Still, maybe it would be better to have it out with the guy once and for all. Finally, I forced myself to sit down. I picked up the paper and started to read. The front page was filled with news of a war I couldn't even recall and names that meant nothing to the shadow that had engulfed my mind. Down in the corner of the front page was this.

A detective slain on train. Detective slain on train. George Bailey. Chicago Detective Bailey. The man in my nightmare was found dead this morning in a roomette on a westbound train. Police officials report that he was on the trail of one Joe Latterly, who is believed to have killed the detective during an attempted arrest. Police throughout the state are on the lookout for Latterly now. He is known to be carrying $50,000 in stolen currency. $50,000?

In stolen currency. Now what was I going to do? I was not only a thief, I was a killer. But funny thing, somehow I didn't feel like a killer. I didn't feel like a killer at all. Mr. Bronson, say that detective came back. He's here with me now.

He'd like to talk to you. Detective? Oh, yeah, sure. Be glad to talk to him. Well, wait just a second, though. I'll throw some clothes on.

No, thank you. I wasn't having any of this. The only thing I could think about was to get away. I rushed to the window, raised it. A fire escape led right down to a back alley. Open up, Mr. Banshee. I slid over the sill and started down the fire escape. As I raced down the steps, I heard excited voices above me. And then... They were shooting at me. This was a new sensation, Mr. Commissioner, and not exactly the most pleasant feeling in the world. Well, that convinced me. I was a killer.

A killer at bay. What could I do? Where could I go? It was almost midnight. There was not one person in the world that I could turn to. That I knew. I didn't even know my own name. I didn't... Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Yes. Yes, I did know my own name. Joe Latterly, the newspaper said. Joe Latterly.

I saw an all-night drugstore down the block. I closed myself in the phone booth there. Started thumbing through the directory. Sure enough, there it was, Joe Latterly. I wrote down my address. Began dialing my telephone number. And while the number rang, I felt a cold sweat come rolling down my face and neck. Soak into my collar. Hello. Hello. Is this the Latterly residence? Yeah. This is Joe. Joe. Yeah. It don't sound like you. I had a little accident. You get the money? Yeah. Yeah.

Any trouble? I killed him. Look, I better see you right away. Yeah, but don't come here. The cops are thick as flies. You better meet me at the usual place. The usual place? Yeah, yeah. Okay, at Mom's. Oh, hey, look. This accident kind of messed up my memory. Where's Mom's address again? 220... 229... 9th Street, apartment 204. 204, okay, I'll see you there. Gee, you sure sound funny. Joe, what happened? I'll tell you about it when I see you. ♪♪

So I had a wife, and she was in on everything. You see, Commissioner, the jigsaw puzzle was beginning to make some sense. A wife. I couldn't even remember the color of her hair. If only I could break through the shadow. Ten minutes later, I was standing in the entrance of a very classy apartment hotel lobby, not a soul in sight. As I began looking down the list of numbers for the right doorbell to ring, I felt myself going shaky again. There it was, 204. I pushed the bell and waited. Then the door buzzer sounded. I pushed open the door and started across the lobby.

No one in sight. No one. That was a break. Pulled my hat down over my eyes as I started up the steps. See, I was beginning to think like a hunted man, like a killer. I took the stairs to the second floor. I started down the hall. 200. 202. The next door, 204. The door was ajar. I wanted to call my wife, but what was her name? Honey? Honey, are you there? No answer. I pushed the door open. The room was in darkness.

I felt along the wall for a light switch. Found it. And there, waiting for me, was this detective. The tall, skinny guy in the white suit. I let my nerves take over. I jumped from the room, slammed the door shut, and started running again. But this time he had a better chance at me than before. As I hurried through the empty streets, I could hear him coming right behind me. I ducked down alleys and across backyards. He was right on my tail.

I couldn't run much further. I was all pooped out. Then I bumped smack into somebody. Hey, watch where you're going. I didn't see you, officer. Well, I'm not exactly an officer. I'm a night watchman. Who are you running from? Why, nobody. Nobody at all. I looked up and down the dark street. The detective was nowhere in sight. I don't know. You weren't exactly strolling along. Come over here to the streetlight. Let me take a look at you. Well, you must know I...

I got in a little jam with a lady. Oh, so that's it.

The way you run, I bet you're a hard man to catch. Yeah. Well, get on with you and be more careful next time. You may not always get a head start. I guess that's right. Good night to you. Oh. Yeah? I live on the other side of town. What's the quickest way to get home? There's an elevated train station two blocks from here. That's your best bet. Okay. You better hurry, though. The last train pulls in at one o'clock and it's pretty close to that right now. I'll hurry. Night. Night.

I began walking again. Once I got away from this neighborhood, I'd have a chance. Chance for what? I wasn't sure. But a man with 50,000 bucks could do a lot of maneuvering. I saw the lights of the elevated station ahead, and in the quiet night, I heard the rumble of the approaching train. The last train. I started jogging. I couldn't have missed that train. Hey! Wait up, you! I took a quick glance over my shoulder. It was him again. My friend in the white suit. I raced up the steps three at a time. When I got to the top, he was at the bottom. Stop, or I'll kill you!

I'd never heard a deadlier sound in that force. The last train was just pulling in. The detective was coming up the stairs, kind of slow. For some reason, I didn't have time to figure out. The train stopped. The doors swung open. I got in. The doors closed, and the train was on its way. I looked back. The detective was standing on the platform, just looking at the train. I didn't get it. Why hadn't he come after me? I couldn't figure it. Then I decided I'd better get some information from the conductor. I looked back.

Say, can you help me? Yeah, sure. What do you want to know? Where's this train go? 63rd Street. 63rd Street, huh? Can I get the state highway from there? No, you're going the opposite way. That kind of mixed up my directions, huh? Well, the only way to get where you're going is to take another car back to the loop. Thanks. That was what I wanted to know. I decided to get off in a block or two in case the cop was waiting for me at 63rd. He must have figured he could beat me there. He'd probably have quite a little reception committee waiting.

So I got up and started to walk to the door. Hey. Yeah? Where are you going? You said I was going the wrong way. I'm going to get off at the next stop. You can't get off until 63rd Street. This is an express. I was just about ready to crack. I knew it would be curtains for me as soon as I got off the train. I kept hoping for a miracle. Maybe the train would crack up or stop one station too soon or... No. It was no use. Finally, the conductor called the station. 63rd Street. 63rd.

And the half-dozen sleepy passengers started getting up and heading for the doors. Then I got an idea. Maybe I could stay in the car. Maybe I could wait. When the last passenger got out, the conductor looked over at me. Uh, this is where you transfer back to the loop. Uh, where does the train go? Up a few blocks, then we turn around and head back. Oh, couldn't I go back with you? Uh, sorry, you gotta get out here and cross the bridge. Oh, but I don't see any... I don't make the rules, buddy. The company makes them for me. Well, I tell you, I'm just going to... Hey! What's the matter? There's somebody behind you. Just come with me.

I got a gun right against your back. It was him. I felt the gun rubbing against my spine. I knew I had only one chance. So I whipped around. I was lucky. I caught him with a hard right and he went down. I jumped fast and got a service revolver. He didn't stay down long, though. As he got up and lunged at me, I let him have it. Right between the eyes.

So there's my story, Mr. Police Commissioner. I'm Joe Latterly. I killed two cops. One today, one last week. I stole 50,000 bucks. I'm tired of the whole thing. I'm glad it's over. It's quite a story, mister. I don't suppose you remember how or why Detective Bailey was killed last week on that train out of Chicago? No. Well, we've reconstructed the crime pretty well, we think.

Began a week ago when a fellow named Steve Roycroft came to headquarters with a complaint against one of his employees whom he suspected of embezzling $50,000. And that employee was... Joe Latterly. I see. Latterly had disappeared and Detective Murphy was assigned to the case. Later that day, he found Latterly taking the morning train out of Chicago.

He called Roy Croft and told him about it. It was Roy Croft and Murphy made the train on Latterly's trail. They confronted him and got back the 50 grand. Who got the money back? The man it rightfully belonged to, Steve Roy Croft. But where did I... Just a minute, just a minute. Roy Croft got his money back, but Latterly made another try. He overpowered Murphy and killed him.

He would have killed Roycroft, too, but Roycroft jumped for his life from the speeding train. Wait a minute, wait a minute. You got it wrong. I jumped from the train, remember? Exactly. But you just said... You're not Joe Latterly, my friend. You are Steve Roycroft. When you got your money and jumped from the train, you lost your memory. Then when you read that we were looking for the killer Latterly, you naturally assumed that you were him.

Of course, we thought Latterly still had the money. Good heavens. What's the matter now? Don't you realize what I've done? What? Well, thinking I was Joe Latterly, I killed the detective who was trying to bring me in. Detective? Yes, just now. On the elevated platform. Oh, but that wasn't the detective at all. But then who... He was Joe Latterly trying to get back his money. Or should I say, your money. Joe Latterly. That's right. And there won't be any charges. You killed him in self-defense.

Yes, it was Joe Latterly all the time. That's why you met him in that apartment. It was his hideout. I know this has been a great shock to you, Mr. Roycroft. Shock, yeah. You're not well. You need rest. I've sent for an ambulance to take you to the hospital. Psychiatrists there will be able to help you recover the balance of your memory. I hope so. I hope they can make me forget what I thought I was. How do you mean? I've lived the life of Joe Latterly too well.

It's done something to me. I'd begun to think like he must have thought, like a hunted killer. It's not going to be easy to return to the commonplace, routine existence of this Steve Roycroft after what I've been through. I hope I won't become too bored, Mr. Commissioner. The End

Next week, at the same time over most of these stations, we'll bring you another original story about the land of the shadows. The story of two killers and of retribution out of the forgotten past. Join us then to examine at first hand the strange impulses which urge human beings into their dark ventures.

Eclipse was written by Larry Marcus and Robert Light and featured Charles Barrett as Steve Roycroft. Original music by Dean Fossler. This is ABC, the American Broadcasting Company.

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Gentlemen, gentlemen, please may I have your attention, very well.

I didn't ask you to come to my humble apartment tonight to endeavor to stun you with my superior knowledge of crime and criminals. I've asked you here only to prove to you that the murders in the room hall present no great insoluble mystery. Monsieur Dupin, if you think the case is so obvious, tell me, who is the murderer? He will be here shortly, Monsieur de Prefect of Police. Here? Who is it? The murderer here...

Gentlemen, I give you my word as a man of honor that he will be here in my apartment at precisely 10 o'clock this evening. How can you be so sure? I have asked him to come. It is exactly 9 o'clock now, gentlemen. And in the hour remaining to us before we meet the murderer, I shall explain to you as simply as I can how I managed to arrive at my conclusion. Yes, do, Monsieur Dupin. I'm always interested in guesswork. Guesswork, my dear fellow? Yes.

This is not guesswork. No? Now, gentlemen, let us retrace the case. The story begins, if I'm not mistaken, with Madame L'Espanay and her daughter Camille on the afternoon of December 16th, 1841. Well, of course, you're correct so far. Anyway, do you... I bow, Monsieur le Prefect. Madame L'Espanay and her daughter Camille entered the Bank of France at precisely 2.45 in the afternoon to transact important business.

Ah, Madame L'Espanay, I've been waiting for you. So good of you, Monsieur Le Bon. Have you met my daughter, Camille? I don't think I've had the pleasure. How do you do, mademoiselle? How do you do, Monsieur Le Bon? Are you quite sure, Madame L'Espanay, that you wish to withdraw all this money at this time? Quite positive.

But 4,000 francs is a great deal to keep about one's household, madame. I'm quite aware of the danger involved, monsieur Le Bon. But if the bank keeps this withdrawal quiet, nobody else need know that I have a sum of money in the house. Well, things do get about, madame. There's no use inviting a necessary danger. The danger is my problem, monsieur Le Bon. I think we'd better let the matter drop at that.

Have you any protection against possible thievery at home, madame? No, monsieur, but my man and I have protection enough. We bolt and knock our doors. It's absolutely impossible for anybody to enter the house unless he should break the door down. But does any male protector live in the house? My husband died many years ago. Madame misunderstands me. I'm only asking these questions for your own good. Two unprotected women living alone in a large house can invite trouble.

That is our problem. If Madame insists. And I do insist. Very well, Madame. I have the money here. I myself will see you both home to ensure safe delivery. But let me warn you now. The minute you arrive in your home on the Rue Maud, the Bank of France resigns all future responsibility. We understand, Monsieur Le Bon. We understand perfectly.

So, gentlemen, the first step in this little tragedy was completed. Madame L'Espanay and her daughter insisted on taking the money home from the bank. Monsieur Le Bon drove them in his carriage to their house, the large, bleak house, number 12, the room on. When they arrived there, Monsieur Le Bon looked about for the gendarme who was in charge of that particular block. Roof! Roof!

May I help you out, Mademoiselle Camille? Oh, thank you, Monsieur Le Bon. Madame. Thank you. Thank you. Is that the gendarme on the corner? The gendarme usually on this block? Not having had any reason to talk to the gendarme, Monsieur Le Bon, I wouldn't know. Yes, I think it is, Monsieur. Gendarme!

Jean d'Arc! All this pots over a little money. Really, you'd think we were incapable of taking care of ourselves. Well, I think Monsieur Le Bon is very thoughtful, mademoiselle. Jean d'Arc! Coming, Monsieur, coming.

Do you live on the first floor, Madame L'Espanay? On the fourth floor, in the back of the house. I own this house, and I've shut up all the other rooms. You mean this entire house is unoccupied except for... You called me, monsieur. Yes, I did. I want you to keep a special watch on this house for the next week or so. Madame L'Espanay and her daughter will have a considerable amount of money in the house. I will watch the house like a watchdog.

You would be better off if you did it like a man. Then you'd use your head instead of your feet. Monsieur. What is your name, gendarme? Gendarme Isidore Musée. Very well. Gendarme Isidore Musée. I leave these ladies in your care.

You needn't worry about a thing, mademoiselle. And madame. I'm sure we won't. That is, as long as you don't spread the news around the neighborhood that we've got 4,000 francs hidden here in the house. Who, me, madame? I am the law, and your secret is safe with me. Come along, ma'am. I'm getting hungry. Thank you so much for all you've done, monsieur Le Bon. It is nothing, mademoiselle, nothing at all.

Just a courtesy extended by the Bank of France. I'll keep good watch, be assured of that. I'll keep very good watch. Gentlemen, gentlemen. Let us proceed to the next event. The Gendarme Isidore Musée kept a very good watch on number 12, Rue Morgue. At 11 o'clock the evening of the tragedy...

He strolled into the shop two doors away from number 12 to buy a pouch of tobacco and to chat with his very good friend Pierre Moreau, a tiny man known as the neighborhood gossip.

Good evening, good evening, good evening, friend Isidore, good evening. Evening. I've been waiting for you, yes, I've been waiting for you. You usually drop in at nine o'clock. And I said to myself as I sat here waiting for you, I said, where's my good friend Isidore? It's been a busy evening this evening. That's what I said to myself. If Isidore doesn't drop in to buy his usual box of tobacco, he's busy.

There must be big news abroad, but then how could there be big news abroad on this plot? That's what I said. You were wrong, Pierre. Very wrong. Wrong, eh? There is big news. Thievery. No. Murder. No. Well, then, I give up.

It's a secret. Secret? What could be a secret? Somebody got married. That's no secret. Somebody died. That's no secret either. A child is ill, a contagious disease, an epidemic, or Paris will be infected. No. Well, I can't guess. If you promise not to tell a soul... Oh, not a soul. Well...

Madame L'Espanier... Yes? And her daughter Camille... Yes? Have withdrawn 4,000 francs from the bank today... And have it hidden in the house somewhere. No. And I must stand on guard. Naturally, naturally. But don't tell a soul. No, not a soul. On my honor, not a single soul is a daughter. My word of honor, I swear it now. And so, by midnight, gentlemen...

The entire neighborhood in the room ward was buzzing. Four thousand francs in the Lesbonnet household. I hear it was ten thousand. Two women all alone. Imagine it. Twenty thousand francs. I wonder where... And all that jewelry must be a veritable fortune hidden away. You know that they say she's got money hidden in every corner of the house. Imagine almost a million francs in that house. I always knew there was something strange about those two women living all alone in a house like that.

And in the rear, fourth floor. Yes, sitting in the bedroom of the fourth floor rear. But while the neighborhood was busy gossiping and chattering, Mademoiselle Camille and her mother were completely unaware of the commotion they had caused. It was almost three in the morning. Camille had just finished undressing, and her mother was sitting in front of the mirror, brushing her hair, so that they didn't notice the window opening in back of them.

I'm so tired, Maman. Poor Camille. It's been a very busy day. You know, I thought that Monsieur Le Bon was very nice. He seems fairly affable. Oh, Maman, fairly affable. I thought he was perfectly charming. So concerned over us. No man ever gets that concerned over me. Must have been you, darling. All men see. Oh, Maman.

Memo. Memo, look in the mirror. Stay calm, Camille. Don't move. Memo, he's got a razor in his hand. Don't move, Camille. Memo, quick. Let's hide. He's coming closer. Where, Camille? Where shall we go? Into the closet, Memo. Quickly, Memo. Into the closet. Close the door. Memo.

How terrible. How awful. Quite right, gentlemen. Simply ghastly.

We fully realize that this is a horrible atrocity, but we must remain factual. While all this was going on on the fourth floor of No. 12 Room Org, the gendarme Isidore Musée, the little tobacconist Pierre Moreau, Monsieur Lebon, who, strangely enough, was in the neighborhood at that very moment...

And a passerby, a sailor, all four were attracted by the screams of the two women and immediately tried to break into number 12 room walk. Now stand back, everybody, while I break the door down. Stand back. This is the gendarme's job. Break it down, Isidore. Break it down. Come, follow me, everybody. Up these stairs to the fourth floor. I'm right behind you, Isidore. Right behind you. On the next flight. Keep going.

Wait a minute, wait. Listen to that. He's speaking Italian. No, it's Russian, Isidore. No, Italian, Pierre. I think it's Polish. How would you know Polish, Monsieur Le Bon? Have you ever heard Polish spoken? No, no, but listen. Listen again. I think it's Dutch he's speaking. Dutch, Polish, Italian, Russian.

None of you know what you're talking about. He stopped speaking, hasn't he? Yes. Probably escaped. Yes, probably. I wonder. Try the door. Can you open it? It's locked. No, it's locked. I think we're too late. I'm sure of it, sailor. I've warned you about the gendarme. Well, let's break the door down. One, two, three. Look.

Look! What? All the entire room is wrecked. Just exactly as if a maniac had torn up the place. The bed's torn apart. Yes. I've sailed the seven seas, but I've never seen a place like this in my entire life. Monsieur Le Bon, where are Mademoiselle Camille and her mother? I don't know. They're not in here. Look! Where? There in the fireplace. It's Mademoiselle Camille. Dead. Yes. Dead. Dead. Poor girl.

Here, help me somebody. Help me lift her up. Look. Look out this window. The old woman is lying in the courtyard below. The sailor's right. Absolutely right. She's lying in the courtyard below, dead as a dead fish. Oh, probably twice as dead. Somebody is guilty of this. Somebody. And as a member of the Paris police, I mean to find out who that guilty person is. Yes, gentlemen.

Isidore Musée, gendarme, swore up and down that he would find the murderer. Well, at four o'clock that morning, I was awakened from a sound sleep and called to number 12, Oumorg, to examine the evidence. Monsieur le gendarme Musée was running around the room destroying the evidence, or at least what little evidence there was, as fast as he unearthed it. The three gentlemen who had been there with him were still waiting round out of a combined feeling of

Horror and curiosity. The sailor, whose name escaped me, was sitting on what was left of a bed, staring blankly around the room. Monsieur Pierre Moreau, the tobacconist, was watching Isidore Musée, the gendarme, play detective. He played it badly. And Monsieur Le Bon was the picture of dejection.

I entered the room and gazed about while Isidore supplied me with all the facts in the case, at least from his point of view. And that is exactly what happened, Monsieur Duvin. Very interesting, Monsieur Isidore Musée.

And now, gentlemen, I wish to ask just a few questions. Go ahead. Now, all of you seem to think you heard the voice of the murderer. Yes, yes, indeed. Oh, we did definitely. No doubt about it. And you, Monsieur Isidore Musée, you are positive that the murderer is an Italian? Positive, Monsieur Dupin. Absolutely positive. I could tell by his intonation. Hmm? Hmm?

Do you speak Italian? Oh, no. Definitely not. Have you ever heard Italian spoken? No, monsieur. Never. But I imagine... Yes? You imagine what? Oh, I imagine it would sound like that. I see. And you, monsieur Le Bon, you said it was Polish. Definitely Polish, without a doubt. I judge you have lived in Poland a long time now? No, no, but I heard Polish spoken once. Once? Yes.

That makes you an excellent judge of the Polish language. How about you, Mr. Piermore? What language did you say it was? Russian, I thought, but that's only a guess since I admit, and I admit it very freely. I'm not a man to hedge. I've never heard a word of Russian in my life. I thought so. And how about you, sir? I thought it was Dutch.

I don't speak the Dutch language, but I have heard a considerable amount of Dutch spoken when I was in Holland eight years ago. Eight years ago? I don't mean to make a suggestion, Monsieur Dupin, but Monsieur Lamont was the only man beside myself who knew about the money being kept in this house. What are you insinuating, Monsieur Musée? Insinuating? I'm an officer of the law.

And I think it was very peculiar that you should just happen to be in this neighborhood at three o'clock in the morning. Don't you live in this neighborhood, Mr. Lebon? No, but I've good reason to be here. Oh, so suppose you tell us. Well, I was worried about Mademoiselle Camille. I was rather attracted to the young lady. And, well, I had a feeling that there would be trouble over the money.

Well, I was in the corner cafe having some tea until about ten minutes before the murder occurred. And then you strolled by the house on your way home? Correct. Quite correct. Are my tobacco stores open all night? All tobacco stores are open all night, Monsieur Pierre Moreau. I was just walking by. I didn't steal the money. But naturally. Nobody stole the money. It's in the safe behind this wall. Are you positive, Monsieur Dupin? Perfectly obvious that the money hasn't been touched.

These murders were far too cruel to be instigated by man's greedy desire for financial reward. Here, let me open the safe and show you. I happen to know an interesting combination that will open any safe. I should have been a thief. So, there. That ought to open it. Oh, it did. Naturally. Now look.

There's the 4,000 francs, safe and snug as a 4,000-franc group of notes should be. Well, perhaps Monsieur Le Bon was interrupted in the midst of his thievery. Perhaps he didn't have time to finish. Well, nonsense. Monsieur Le Bon was with you when you walked up the stairs. Well, an accomplice, perhaps. No, no, no, Monsieur Isidore Musée. Let me show you something. Look at the fingerprints on this girl's neck. Very strong, heavy prints. And very large, too. Why, yes. Yes.

The murderer must have been a giant. His hand must have been twice as large as mine, and I have a large hand as hands. Yes, yes. The murderer was a giant. A giant with extraordinary strength. Gentlemen, I think now I have sufficient clues. Look at this window. It's just a window. Yes, just a window with a cord on it. A broken piece of cord. Clue number one. Clue number two. Look. Look at the dead girl's hand. What? What?

She has some hair clutched in her hand. Quite correct. And with this cord and this hair, I can find the murderer. Gentlemen, go home. Go home, get a good night's sleep, and I'll hand the murderer over to the prefect of police very soon. Monsieur Devane, don't forget to mention that I helped you. I'm due for promotion soon. Very extraordinary. I don't care about it.

And so, messieurs, that is the story. And you have the facts. A piece of cord and some hair. The condition of the room, the strength of the murderer, the passion of the deed, the lack of motivation should all suggest to you the very same thing it suggested to me. Monsieur Dupin, you are talking in circles. Circles? Circles?

You mean to say you still don't know who the murderer is? No, of course I don't know. And frankly, Monsieur Dupin, I don't think you know either. Really, gentlemen. Really, gentlemen, you amaze me. Here. Here, Monsieur le Prefect. Examine this piece of court, if you will. What do you make out of it? A piece of court, yes. Well, let me see. Well, it's a piece of...

Well, nothing except that, uh, well, it's, it's been torn. Yes, it's been torn. Yes. Now, try to tear it yourself. Well, try to, well, I couldn't. It's a very, very strong cord. Ah. Notice anything else? Yes, now that I look at it, it's got a very unusual knot in it. But what does an unusual knot prove? You will see what I mean presently. It's the first stroke of ten o'clock.

Any minute now, gentlemen, the murderer will enter this room. May I please ask you to extinguish all the candles in the room? All except one. Why, Monsieur Dupin, we'll all be murdered. Which would be no great tragedy, but I wouldn't worry if I were you. Well, as you say, Monsieur Dupin. Extinguish the candles, gentlemen. Now we are in semi-darkness. That is fine. Listen, gentlemen.

The downstairs door to my poncio has opened and closed. The murderer is now downstairs. He is walking up the stairs. Now listen. Yes, listen. For the love of heaven. Quiet, quiet. He is coming closer. Gentlemen, are you ready to grab him when he enters? Yes, monsieur. That is good. Good. He is standing outside my door now, monsieur le prefect. Ready, gentlemen? Yes. Come in. Come in.

Grab him. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. So it is you, sailor. Help the sailor to sit down. It was a trap, huh? But this sailor doesn't look strong enough to commit these murders. Let me go. Let me go. Don't struggle. Please, please, please don't struggle. You see, sailor, Monsieur le Prefect cannot arrest you for the murder because although you are responsible for the crimes, you are not guilty. I'm not guilty. I'm not.

I couldn't help it. Of course you couldn't. Gentlemen, it must be obvious to you now that no man murdered these two women. The only creature able to do it would be a Borny's orangutan. Orangutan? I matched these hairs I found in the dead woman's hand, and of course they belong to just such a creature. An orangutan. Yes. Yes, Monsieur Dupin is right. But tell me, how is this sailor involved?

I owned the animal. Dupin put an ad in the paper saying my orangutan was captured. That's why I'm here, to claim it. But didn't you realize that Monsieur Dupin knew that the murder was an orangutan? No. No, I... I didn't think anyone could solve the murders.

But I did know that whoever put the ad in the paper knew that I was the owner of the animal and that he was keeping what he thought was a perfectly innocent animal. You see, I addressed my ad personally to this sailor. This piece of cord told me a sailor owned it. There was a sailor's knot in the cord and the knot was peculiar to those tied on Maltese vessels.

Therefore, when I put the ad in the paper, I asked the sailor from the Maltese vessel, I checked on the name of the vessel from the sailing data in the paper, to come and get the beast. Naturally, I came to pick him up. Ah, now I see. One question I must ask, sailor. How did the orangutan get hold of a razor, and how did he manage to escape? I had the animal locked in my quarters. I captured him in Malta and brought him to this country to sell to the zoo.

They're very smart, you know. Last night when I entered my room, he was trying to shave with my razor. When I tried to chain him up, he escaped. He ran out into the streets, saw the light in number 12, Rue Morgue, climbed up the lightning rod to the ladies' apartments. Well, you know the rest. Indeed we do. Well, gentlemen, if you have any other problems you wish settled, call on me. Just call on Monsieur Auguste Dupin.

Incidentally, if you'd like to see the orangutan, you'll find it safely locked up in the zoo. From the time-worn pages of the past, we have brought you the immortal tale, Murders in the Rue Maud. Bellkeeper, call the bell. Bellkeeper, call the bell.

♪♪♪

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I'll prosecute him. Then, Blake, I'll start on you. Sunday night, and again, CBS presents The Whistler. I, the Whistler, know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. So I tell you tonight the unusual story of the weakling. Young Clyde Banning, son of District Attorney Banning, steps out of a nightclub following a gay New Year's Eve party.

An expensive limousine pulls up to the curb and Clyde gets in. Clyde has done some careless driving lately, had his driver's license revoked, and is now forced to be driven about by Rawlins, the family chauffeur. Where to now, Mr. Benning? Let's go home, Rawlins. Not yet, Clyde. Hey, look.

What are you doing in here? I thought you were still in the club. I didn't think you even knew I was there. Oh, I saw you a couple of times. Why have you been avoiding me, Clyde? You know how it hurts me. What's happened? Take Miss Blake home, Rollins. No, I won't go home. I won't be brushed off like this without an explanation. You know how much I love you, Clyde, and I can't go on like this any longer. Please, Ellen, this is no time to make a scene. Clyde, you know you love me. Let's get married right now, tonight. Please, let's not talk about it now. I will talk about it now. Rollins, pull up, please. Please.

I won't get out, Clyde. I won't. I'll drive, Rawlins. You can take a cab home. You'll drive, but listen to me. Go on, Rawlins. I'll take Miss Blake home. Don't take me home, Clyde. I've got to talk to you. Please, drive down to the ocean highway. All right. All right, but cut out the melodrama. Why have you changed so, Clyde? Why can't we get married? You know as well as I.

My father is district attorney and he's out to crack that Graff situation wide open. He knows who the big boss of the racket is and he's going to get his scalp. Send him to the pen. But what's that to do with us? You know that Jim Blake is the big boss. Your own father. But we have our own lives to live. If I married you, Dad would throw me out of my ear. What, if Dad, we could get along? How? Your father would have a dime when this is over. Besides, Dad is up for re-election. How would it look? D.A.'s son marries convict's daughter. I...

I thought you really loved me. Well, I've always liked you, Ellen, but it just won't work. It isn't fair to Dad. Then you don't want to marry me? I've told you how I feel about it. What a ridiculous fool I've been. Now, don't start that hysterical... I've hoped against hope that you weren't trying to get rid of me, but now I know. You're a low, spineless jellyfish. You didn't love me. You couldn't. Stop shouting. I won't stop. I wish everyone could hear me. Couldn't know what a despicable robber you are. Shut up. Don't stop it, you little fool. Ellen! Ellen!

Good Lord! Ellen! Ellen! Oh, Lord. Her face. Ellen. Ellen, darling. I'd better get a doctor. Maybe she... No, I shouldn't move her. Yes, that's it. Get help. Yes, Clyde. Better get help. There, just ahead, the low lights of the service station. Hurry, Clyde. Maybe she's still alive.

What's the trouble, Clyde? You're slowing down. Well, they might think I did it. Think I pushed her out. She's dead. Must be. No one knows. Better drive on. You've passed it now, Clyde. You've really fixed things now. You should have stopped. Clyde's fear increases with every mile. He slips the car into the garage and hurries quietly to his room. But he doesn't sleep. Not a wink. His head throbs, and with every thump of his heart, Ellen's words ring in his ears. Hello?

I list jellyfish. Jellyfish! Ellen, please, I didn't mean it. Forgive me. District Attorney Banning sits at breakfast with his attractive wife, Marsha. Marsha is Clyde's stepmother. The District Attorney scans his morning paper as Clyde, pale and worn, slips into his place at the table.

Hmm. What do you think of that? What is it, Henry? Jim Blake's daughter was found dead on the ocean highway early this morning. Oh, they found her on the ocean highway? Oh, good morning, son. How have you been? Oh, I guess I overslept. Really? Looks as though you hadn't slept at all. Have a big evening? Too much champagne? No, no. Gee, that's terrible about Blake's daughter. What happened to her? I think she was thrown out of a car. Probably some enemy of Blake's. I dare say he has plenty. Thrown out? Does it say that? Yes.

Well, I'd better go down to the office. Maybe she jumped out. Not likely. Venture to say she was pushed out, all right. Why don't you have some coffee, Clyde? Help that hangover. I haven't got a hangover. What in the name of heaven's wrong with you? Better take some aspirin, son, and go back to bed. You're going to the office today? It's New Year's Day. Never go down there on a holiday. I'm going down for an hour or so.

Will it upset your plans by any chance? I haven't got any plans. Then what's bothering you? Something's wrong with you, Clyde. Nothing's wrong with me and nothing's bothering me. Just a moment. Who are you shouting at? I'm not shouting at you. I think you'd better go on back to your room and go to bed. You're a bit too unpleasant to suit me. I'm sorry. Sorry, Marsha. That's all right, darling. I'll feel all right after a while. I guess I did have too much champagne. I've never seen Clyde like this. Well, you've only been around him a year, Marsha. He's a moody type, has spells, but he's a good boy. Yes.

You'll learn all his little quirks in time. Well, I'll run along, darling. Be back in an hour or so. I beg your pardon, Mr. Clyde. Yes? What is it, Thompson? Rawlins, the chauffeur would like to see you, sir. Oh, yes? All right, send him in. He'll see you, Rawlins. What do you want, Rawlins? I'd like to have a little talk with you, Clyde. Yes? What's on your mind? Where did you go last night after you dismissed me?

What business is that of yours? Well, I just thought I'd ask you. Got in around 2.30, didn't you, Clyde? What of it? Thought maybe you knew what happened to Ellen Blake. I took her home. What happened after that, I don't know. She kind of put the pressure on you, didn't she? What do you mean? I heard her. Heard every word you both said. She said she was determined to get married. So what? Well, it wouldn't be so good for you if I was to tell about last night. Oh? Oh, you made a big mistake when you let me out of that car.

If you let me drive her home, why, you might not be in this jam. Who said I was in a jam? I say so. What if you do tell what you know? That doesn't prove anything. Oh, I got better proof than that. What? Ellen Blake's handbag. I found it in the car this morning. Here it is. Her initials on it. Some personal effects inside. Oh, yeah? Now, I'm the only one who knows about all this. If I talk, you're certain to get a rope around your neck. I didn't kill her. She jumped out. Can you prove that? No.

If I tell about the argument and establish the time, you wouldn't have a chance. I didn't kill her, I tell you. How'd you like trying convincing a jury on that? But you know, I don't have to say a word about it, Clyde. Why should you? It all depends on you. What do you want? Oh, I could use a little money. How much? Two or three thousand dollars. Where would I get that much? You get a nice allowance every month. You're a dirty rat, Rawlins. I didn't like your looks when you came here three weeks ago. I thought you looked like a crook. I'll have you fired. I don't think you will.

You can't afford to. Do I get the handbag? No. Not until you pay off in full. Suppose I tell you to go to the debt. And you'll be in jail within an hour. I mean business. Okay. Okay, I'll pay as much as I can each month. I don't want to wait too long. I'll try to get it as soon as possible. I want that handbag. You'll get it, kid. When I get the $3,000. Good afternoon, madam. Good afternoon.

What do you mean, coming into my room without knocking? And how is Madame today? What do you want? I want to wish you a happy new year. Well, of all the nerve, you get out of here. Now, now, now, don't get excited. I thought you might like to talk to me. What do you mean? Well, I've got a little information that might be of interest to you. Information? What are you talking about? I'm talking about Clyde. What about him? Well, I was just wondering what would happen if your husband had to prosecute his own son for the murder of the...

daughter of the man he's out to break. Are you crazy? What do you mean? Clyde murdered Ellen Blake, threw her out of the car. How do you know that? She was in love with Clyde. He was trying to shake her. I drove them away from a nightclub last evening. They had a very serious argument. And then he let me out and drove the car himself. That doesn't mean anything. Ellen Blake was killed about 1 a.m. Clyde came in about 2. Good heavens. This morning I found this handbag in the car. It's Ellen Blake's.

If I were to tell what I know about it and produce his handbag, Clyde would have a rope placed around his neck by his own father. I doubt very much that the DA would ever be re-elected. How could Clyde do such a thing? I mean, if he lost his head, she was pretty insistent. But you don't have to say anything about this. Oh, I wouldn't have to. If this came out, Henry would be ruined. That's just what I mean. Now, you wouldn't want that to happen, would you? No. Then it's all up to you.

Up to me? Yes. If I cover up a murder, it might affect my conscience. I might worry a lot, but my conscience might be sad. What do you want? Well, it ought to be worth about $3,000. Three? Why, that's ridiculous. I have no such amount. Then get it. How could I explain what I wanted with $3,000? That's your worry, not mine, baby. Do you know what they can do to you for blackmail? No, no, this isn't blackmail, honey. No, I'm not threatening to divorce someone's past. It's bigger than that.

As a matter of fact, you're going to bribe me to withhold a piece of important evidence. So you see, I hold the aces. Get out of here. Get out! Okay. But I know somebody who has a lot of dough, and I'd just as soon turn the information over to Blake as anyone else. I just wanted to give you a break. How about this diamond bracelet? Yeah, that'll help. But it'll be hard to get rid of. I'd rather have cash. All right, I'll give you these diamonds, and you can hold them until I get the cash. Fair enough. Hand them over.

You know, I thought I'd... Well, that you'd see things in the right way. Goodbye, honey. Get out of here, you rotten thief. Oh, listen to her. As the days pass, Clyde and Marsha are both turning over every cent they can get hold of to Rawlins. But the going is difficult, and Rawlins becomes more insistent. And one day, Clyde gets a message to visit the big boss, Jim Blake, Ellen's father. I...

I was told you wanted to see me, Mr. Blake. Yeah. Sit down, kid. Thank you. Everything working out all right? What do you mean? You look a little worried, kid. I thought maybe something was disturbing your sleep. Oh. Well, I've been having headaches. I think it's my eyes. Been seeing things, have you? In the dark? No, I haven't been seeing things. I don't know what you're getting at, but nothing's bothering me. Just when was it that you started meeting my daughter, Ellen? What?

I don't know what you mean. Ah, quit playing dumb. I found out about it today. Who told you such a thing? Does your father know about you and Ellen? I'll bet not. Now, look here. If you think you can stop father in this investigation by trying to frame something on me, you're crazy. You can't get away with it. I'll spill the whole thing. Oh, you will? Yes, I will. You're a crook. When my father gets through with you, you'll be behind the bars for the rest of your life. When I'm put behind bars, kids, you'll be dangling from the end of a rope. What are you trying to accuse me of? The murder of my daughter. Murder...

I didn't kill her. Can you prove that? There's no proof that I did. I've got a witness, kid, and he's ready to talk when I say the word. Witness? That's ridiculous. Why should I want to kill Ellen? Because she was in love with you, and you wanted to shake her because you were afraid your father would kick if you married her.

Your father's out to get me, and I'm determined to beat him to the draw. I didn't kill her, I tell you. Ellen left that nightclub with you in her car, New Year's Eve. You had an argument. She wanted to get married. When she got too insistent, you dismissed the chauffeur and drove the car yourself. And out on the ocean highway, you threw her out on the rocks. I didn't. I didn't. Did you stop? Did you look at her? Her face mangled of a pulp. Her body broke into bits on those rocks. I didn't do it. I swear I didn't. I've got a witness to the argument and the time element. You...

You can't scare me. I just talked to Rollins, your chauffeur. He knows what time you got in and he found Ellen's purse in the car. I don't believe it.

Where's the purse? Rawlins has it. He'll produce it when you get to trial. And your own father will have to prosecute you. Oh, I'll enjoy that. Too bad about that purse, kid. If you'd found the purse and Rawlins didn't know what he knows, you might have gotten away with it. But you're stuck now, stuck with Rawlins and the purse. And your own father will have to tie the rope around your neck. Rawlins is a liar. It'll hold in court. The jury will believe him. He's a dirty liar. I could kill him. Kill him? Yeah.

You wouldn't do that. Well, he isn't fit to live. Well, you aren't either. But I'm going to give you a chance to keep out of the noose. I'll keep Rollins from talking if you get me a couple of letters. What letters? Your father has them. They have my signature on them. You can get them very easily. You get those papers and I'll put the quietus on Rollins. They're addressed to the county supervisor. Your father intends to use them against me. I want them. Is that clear? Yes.

Yeah. You get the papers and we're both in the clear, understand? Yeah, yeah, I understand. All right. I'll give you till tomorrow evening at six o'clock. You can go now. Yeah. Remember, six o'clock tomorrow night. Saturday night passes. Then Sunday dawns with a most startling discovery. Rollins, the chauffeur, has been found dead. Shot to death in his apartment over the garage.

No evidence is discovered, no weapon, no fingerprints, nothing. Now it is late afternoon. Oh, this is a fine mess. A murder in my own home. Everything will come out all right, Henry. You're certain to find the person who did it. Oh, yes. He may have had some enemies. After all, we know very little about him. He'd only been here a short while. Don't you understand? I'm the district attorney.

Murder has been committed in my own home. Why, if I can't bring this to a solution, I'll be a laughingstock. I'll never be re-elected. We're trying to help you, Henry. I don't know what I'm going to do, but this has got to be kept from the police department. Once they get into it, it'll be plastered all over the front pages of every newspaper in town. Yes. I'll have to handle this from my own office. Well, neither one of us has been out of the house, and we haven't told anyone. What are you worried about? Surely a man like Rollins could have had many enemies...

Who knows what he's been mixed up in. For Captain Stone to see you, Mr. Banning. Captain Stone. Oh, yes, I was afraid of that. All right, show him in. Good afternoon, Mr. Banning. Oh, good afternoon, Captain Stone. Well, what are you doing out this way? We heard about your chauffeur. Really? And who told you? Oh, a friend. Body hasn't been moved, has it?

No, no, Inspector Stone, it hasn't. Still in the room over the garage. Well, come on, Skelton, let's have a look. You don't mind, do you, Mr. Banning? Why, no. No, of course not. Thank you. We'll be back in a moment. All right. You know, I've got a strange feeling that Jim Blake knows something about this. Blake? Why do you think that? I don't know. He's just the type to think of something like this. Yes, a perfect setup for him. A murder in my own home.

Nothing would please him better. Why would Blake resort to anything like this? Why? Because my dear Blake is in a tough spot. Yes. The more I think about it, the more right I think I am. Well, I'm going to have a talk with him. I don't think Blake had anything to do with it. Really? What do you know about it? Well, nothing, Father. Then please allow me to handle this in my own way. Henry, why must you be so harsh? I'm sorry, Father. I think you should keep away from Blake. Why? I don't know. I just think you should. Why?

Well, when I want your opinion, son, I'll ask for it. Well, here you are, Mr. Banning. We found it. Found what? We found this revolver behind the garage. Well, I... No, no, don't touch it. We want to check for fingerprints. Of course, I know better than to touch it. Fingerprints? Maybe there are none on it. We'll check it just the same. Well, the killer would be a fool to leave his prints on the gun.

How do you know it is the gun? We'll find out. Ballistics will know. How will they know who the gun belongs to? Maybe it isn't the gun. We already know who killed him. All we need is proof. No. How do you know? Who did it? Your son did it. We were tipped off. My son? That's right. Are you crazy? Why should Clyde kill him? He hardly knew him. Look, Mr. Banning, you think I'd come to your house snooping around unless I had a very good reason? Where did you get your tip?

I'd rather not say. Who's this friend? Come on, you'd better tell me. I'll bring it out eventually. All I know is that we were tipped off about the murder and told who did it. Your son threatened to kill Rawlins. Who told you that? Jim Blake. He heard him say it. Where did you see Blake, Clyde? I don't know what they mean. Ask Jim Blake. Come on, Skelton. Let's check that gun with ballistics. Come on.

A few hours later, boss Jim Blake stands in the study facing the district attorney. There is a tense moment as each waits for the other to speak. Well, Benny, what do you want? I know what you're trying to pull, Blake. You're trying to get at me by framing my son with a murder. I'm not trying to frame him. I just told the police that I heard Clyde threatened to kill Rawlings. So far, there's nothing but circumstantial evidence. Clyde had no reason to kill Rawlings. And without a motive, Clyde is in the clear. Yeah? Yeah.

If you had a scheme in mind to force me to drop that investigation, then your scheme went haywire. You pulled a boner. What do you mean, boner? If Clyde had threatened Roland's life, the natural thing for a man in your situation to have done was to approach me instead of the police. Why? Well, you wanted those letters, didn't you? How could you possibly make a deal for those letters now that you've made your information public? Ha, ha, ha.

I'm a way ahead of you, Banning. I'm not so dumb as all that. I'm still holding the aces. What aces? The ones I'll throw down for the letters. I think you're bluffing, Blake. I know why Clyde killed Rollins. I can supply the motive. I'll admit that without the motive, he'd be in the clear. But if I spilled the motive, he'd crack in five minutes. I still think you're bluffing. I know you've got a cinch case against me with those letters. But with what I know, I've got a cinch case against your son that will send him to the gallows. I don't know why Clyde killed Rollins.

Not only that, but if I do spill it, you wouldn't dare show your face in this town again. Sounds pretty gruesome. I can't imagine what it could possibly be. I'll say you can't. Clyde is really in it, up to his neck. You really think he's guilty? Certainly, but whether he is or not, he had the motive.

And the motive for killing Rollins will lead to something that can be definitely proved. You mean material evidence? I do. So in order to prosecute me, you'll be forced to prosecute your own son. Hmm, I'll see to that. Now you hand over those letters and we'll all be in the clear. Believe me, Banning, I'm not bluffing. Blake, if you're telling the truth, then we're both in a very unfortunate position. You're a crook and I happen to be a stickler for duty.

I can't be bribed. You mean you'd actually prosecute your own son? I do. And if he's guilty, he can take the consequences. I don't believe he is, but I know you are. I think you're crazy. And I still think you're bluffing. Try me. I'll call you a bluff. All right. But you'll change your mind, Banning. If you don't, you're a bigger fool than I've ever come across. Let's have it. Get your son in here. All right.

Marsha, bring Clyde in here. Yes, Henry. What a sap you are, Banning. Over a couple of punk ladders. Duty, ladder bushwhack. Do you want me, Father? Oh, you can come in too, Marsha. Yes, Henry. What are you doing here? Well, kid, I've been having a little chat with your righteous father. He sent for me. He's a little stupid. He wants to be enlightened. Maybe you can help him. Yeah? Clyde, I understand you paid a visit to Mr. Blake. Thank you.

Huh? Go on. Better tell him, Clyde. What were you doing there, Clyde? Well, Blake sent for me. Why? He wanted to talk to me. What about? Well...

About... What's he been saying? I told him what you said to me. Said about what? About Rollins. What did I say about Rollins? What did you say, Clyde? Nothing. He's lying. Lying about what? We haven't said anything yet. He tried to get me to steal something. Steal something? Now we're getting someplace. Wanted you to steal some letters out of my safe. Yes, yes. He offered me a lot of money. Money? I didn't even mention money. I didn't have to. Yes, he did. What inducement would money be to you, Clyde? You always get everything you want.

I offered you something better than money, kid. What was it, Clyde? He threatened me. Threatened to kill me. How do you like that? You're in a tough spot, kid. You better start talking. You threatened to kill Rollins. I did not. I heard you. Why did you make that threat? Well, I was just talking. I didn't mean it. I couldn't kill anybody. But you did say it. But I didn't mean it. What had you done? What did he know? Something prompted you to say it. Now, what was it? Nothing.

Nothing, nothing. I haven't done anything. You killed Rawlins. You said you would. I didn't kill him. You killed him to shut his mouth. What did he know, Clyde? The maid's lying. He's not trying to scare me. I'll scare you. You killed Rawlins to keep him from telling what he knew about you and my daughter, Ellen. Your daughter? She was in love with Clyde and wanted him to marry her. He tried to shake her, but when she got too insistent, he threw her out of his car, murdered her. I did not. I didn't. Rawlins heard them arguing. Clyde dismissed him and drove the car himself. Rawlins found Ellen's purse in the car next morning. Rawlins...

Rollins told me. He's lying, lying. I told him Rollins wouldn't talk if Clyde got me the letters, but he killed Rollins instead. Was Ellen Blake in your car the night she died? Yes. Did you dismiss the chauffeur? Yes, but I didn't kill her. She jumped out. She jumped out deliberately. Why didn't you tell us? I was going to, but...

Then I got afraid to think I killed her. Rawlins tried to blackmail Clyde, then double-crossed Clyde and came to me. Where's the purse? Clyde probably has it. That's why he killed him. I haven't got it. I don't know where it is. I couldn't find it. Then you were in Rawlins' apartment over the garage. Yes, yes, but I didn't kill him. I didn't kill Ellen. Oh, I believe you. Now, what do you have to say, Mr. Banning? Do I hold the aces? No. I'll bring it to trial. I'll find that purse if there is a purse. And if he's proven guilty, he can pay the penalty like anyone else.

And then, Blake, I'll start on you. You're a fool, Banning. You're crazy. Come in. Well, here we are, Mr. Banning.

Got quite a bit of dope on this Rawlins killing. What now? There were no fingerprints on that gun, but it was definitely the murder weapon. Ballistics checked it. Well, still doesn't prove my son fired the gun. That's right. But we did manage to trace the original ownership. And what did you learn? Here it is. The gun was purchased four years ago in Seattle. By whom? By Patricia Rawlins. Patricia Rawlins? Did you check on Patricia Rawlins? Who was she? We checked on her. We also checked on Rawlins. Patricia Rawlins was your chauffeur's wife.

They both have a police record. Rawlins was a confidence man, three convictions. His wife, Patricia, was implicated as an accomplice. Anything else? Yes, Rawlins disappeared into Mexico three years ago, finally turned up here. Rawlins must have had the gun in his possession. Or the wife had it, in which case she could have killed him. Quite possible. You'd better try to locate the wife. Oh, uh, here's her picture. We should be able to locate her without much trouble. What do you mean? Good Lord.

Marsha. Yes, Henry. Look at this photo. You know who this is? Yes, Henry. Sorry, Mrs. Banning. We'll check your fingerprints with these on police record just to make sure. You don't need to check them. They're mine. Marsha, don't. Why not, Clyde? It doesn't prove anything. Maybe somebody got into the apartment and killed him with his own gun. That's just what happened. He did have the gun, but I killed him. Three years ago, he deserted me. Later, I heard he was dead. Then after I'd married Henry, he turned up here. I knew what he was going to do eventually.

But I was in love with Henry. Then when he found the purse, he used it to blackmail me. And when he double-crossed both Clyde and me by going to Blake, we determined to get the purse. But he caught us ransacking his apartment. He pulled the gun and struck me. We all fought for it. Clyde wrestled with him, and I got the gun and shot him. Why did you tell Marshal? Why not? It doesn't matter now. Tell me, did she shoot in self-defense, Clyde? Certainly. He'd have killed us both. Well...

That will clear you of the Rawlins' charge. But what about Ellen? He still killed Ellen. Captain Stone, there's a missing purse. Ellen Blake's purse. I want it. You can start looking in Rawlins' apartment. I'm going through with this, Blake, regardless of the consequences. Take a look at him, Captain. A man who'd sacrifice his own son, his own life, for a couple of measly little letters. What a sap. The End

A district attorney banning a determined man goes through with his promise. The case against his son is in preparation. The day of the opening of the trial is set. Then the missing purse is found. And in it is a note to Clyde written and signed by Ellen Blake. Go on, read it, Clyde. Dearest Clyde, I've tried every way to reach you. I know now that you've been avoiding me. I can't go on. I know your fault, but I love you. I can't help it.

So I'm going to kill myself. I don't know how, but some way will present itself. Goodbye, Clyde. I hope you find the happiness I've been denied. I love you. Well, there you are. Ellen Blake did jump from Clyde's car. And Clyde, even though he did seem a weakling, was able to fight when it came to a showdown. And Marsha, because of her great love for Banning, was willing to sacrifice everything for him.

So Clyde is cleared, Marsha is acquitted, and Blake is sent to prison. That is the end of a story which might have ended very tragically had it not been for the note in Ellen's purse. Very convenient, that note. CBS has presented The Whistler. The Whistler

Original music for this production was composed and conducted by Wilbur Hatch. The Whistler is written and directed by J. Donald Wilson and originates from Columbia Square in Hollywood. Next week, 9.30... I, the Whistler, will return to tell you another unusual tale. Good night. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.

♪♪♪

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Strange Wills. Starring the distinguished Hollywood actor Warren Williams and featuring Carlton Young and Howard Culver with an all-star Hollywood cast. Original music by Del Castillo. Dead men's wills are often strange. We cannot attempt to understand them or try to find the answers.

We can but tell the story. This is Warren William bringing you the story so deep the stream. But first, here's a brief message from your announcer. ♪♪

And now back to Warren William as John Francis O'Connell in So Deep the Stream.

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

It was a sweltering summer night when I stopped off to see Frank on my way home. He lived on the lower east side of the city. Let's see. 3A, 3B. Oh, here it is, 3C. Frank Warner. Come in. By the beard of Shakespeare, if it isn't my good friend John O'Connell. Come in, come in, you misguided thespian. Ha, ha, ha.

Well, here I am, Frank. But you certainly picked a scorcher for our get-together. Now, isn't that just like a lawyer? Always worrying about the temperature or some other irreverent, inconsequential and immaterial matter. Well, maybe you're right. After all, what's a temperature of 101 between Frank... Ah, that's the way I like to hear you talk. Especially when there's work to be done. Work? On a night like this? Oh, no, Frank. Let's just sit here and talk and maybe reminisce a bit. Later, later, my fine-feathered friend.

First, I have news for you. Bad news. Another one of your plays turned down, Frank? That, sir, would be only a temporary setback. What I have to tell you now will be permanent. John, I was over to the clinic on 68th Street this afternoon. I'm going to die. Die? Oh, come now. Don't joke about a thing like that. I'm not joking, John. It's the solemn truth. That's why I asked you to stop on your way home.

John, my batting average on Broadway hasn't been very good, as you well know. I've told you many times, Frank, that you've lived 50 years too soon. Your plays are too daring, your philosophy too advanced. You see that trunk over there in the corner, John? You've told me before that it's the morgue for your manuscript. That's right. Inside are over 60 potential Broadway hits. Not for today, maybe, but ready for the world of tomorrow.

Someday, John, this tired old world will have to realize that all men are brothers. I'm afraid that won't happen overnight, Frank. Maybe yes, maybe no. Things are moving swiftly in this old world of ours, John. But let's get down to the practical side.

I have one son, as you know, Evan. He's the only one I have left in the world. One of the nicest young men I know, too. He's a fine lad, that's true. And for better or for worse, I've steeped his mind with my philosophy. He's going to carry on as a playwright, going to produce my shows. He graduates this year from college, doesn't he? And with the highest honors. But outside of his education, I haven't much to leave him. Except... Except what, Frank?

Except that trunk full of manuscripts and the fanatical belief that one day those plays will help make this world a better place in which to live. What does he think of your plays? He believes in them. So much so that he has sworn to me that he will devote his life to seeing that they are produced. The contents of that trunk, John, have become our religion. So be it. I want you to draw up my will, leaving my trunk and its contents to Evan. Today it's without value. Tomorrow...

Well, who knows, John? Who knows? Frank Warner died two years later while Evan was studying in Paris. His funeral carried little notice in the press, but the church was filled to capacity with old and new friends who had known him. Overhauled workmen carrying lunch boxes sat next to and rubbed elbows with gentlemen in silk top hats.

As I sat there and looked at the people, I wondered if Frank's philosophy of universal brotherhood hadn't borne fruit. Somehow the thought occurred to me that within the confines of this solemn old church, men and women, highborn and lowborn, were gathering to do humble homage at the beer of a brilliant mind. Was this the beginning of reason and understanding? I wondered.

Hello? John, is that you, John? Yes. This is Evan, Evan Warner. Why, Evan, good heavens. I'm glad to hear your voice again. How long have you been home? Just flew in this morning. It's sure swell to be back. And it's nice to have you here, too, Evan. When can you come over to see me? We've got quite a few things to talk over. I'll come over tomorrow night. I'll even go one better. How about dinner? That would suit me fine. What time? Omega, how about eight? Okay, dinner at eight tomorrow night at the Waldorf.

It's a deal. And say, John... Yes, Evan? Keep your fingers crossed for me tonight, will you? Fingers crossed? What do you mean? I've got a date with Polly. You remember Polly McGuire, my old friend? You bet I remember Polly. I think she's wonderful. What's up? I'm going to take her over to our old rendezvous, that little cafe over on 54th Street. If everything looks like it used to and she still has that same old feeling, I'm going to pop the question. THE END

So, there you are, Polly. That's my story and my future.

How about it, honey? I don't know what to say, Evan, really. I've waited for you this long. I guess a little while longer won't hurt anyone. But, Evan, do you really have to try producing your father's plays? He never got very far with them. Only because the type wasn't right, darling. But now things are different. People are different. Not the people I've seen. What do you mean, Polly? Well, I certainly don't see the brotherly love you want me to believe in sweeping the world.

Well, that's because you've just been shut up here in a big city. But believe me, Polly, where I've been, I see the difference. I've seen liberation in action, and it was something I'll never forget. Maybe you're right, Evan. Perhaps I'm wrong. Anyway, I'll wait until you get this big Broadway smash you're talking about underway. And then? And then, Polly, the day after the opening, you and I'll be married. Is it a deal? Cross my heart. It's a deal.

Youth and ambition were not to be denied. Evan Warner had accomplished the impossible, up to a point. By sheer determination, he'd gone out and raised the money to produce the first of his father's plays. It was called Tomorrow's Children. The night before the opening, Evan, Polly, and I had a private little celebration. And here's a toast to the best producer on Broadway. I second the money. Thank you. Seriously, Evan.

I hope you have the biggest smash hit this town has ever seen. I say that as a friend. But don't be downhearted if it's a flop. It's a propaganda play. Well, I think the world is waiting for a moral and spiritual lift. All I can say is that you're ready to give it to them, aren't you, Evan? Dad and I are, Polly.

As you know, this show, Tomorrow's Children, depicts what life will be in a world as free as democracy can make it. I wonder if those millions of people you're worrying about would appreciate our way of life. Oh, just listen, Polly. Listen to the sage of the probate court saying that humanity is still the same old guy that wants to be led around by the nose. Well, I won't take sides in this argument. Let's all wait until tomorrow night. Then we'll know. Won't we, Evan? Yes. When the curtain comes down tomorrow night...

We'll know. So be it. Well, the critics all agreed that it would have been better if tomorrow's children had never been born. The next morning, we got together and wept over the press notices. Evan was deeply hurt. Perhaps I'm crazy, but I'm going on. And, Polly, I can't ask you to keep your promise to marry me. I'd hoped for success, and instead I get black dismal failure. But I can't compromise with truth. Polly, I... I want you to forget me.

Marry someone with a future, with a good job. Someone who can get you the things you deserve. And thanks, both of you, for sticking with me. Goodbye. Well, what are you going to do with a fellow like Evan? Polly waited for another six months. And then, bright and early one morning, she called me to say she was married to Cyrus MacDonald, a wealthy minover from South Africa. Tired of waiting for Evan, she had chosen this way out.

They left by plane that very night for their new home on the dark continent. I never knew how much Evan missed Polly until one day, months later, I dropped in to the little cafe where they used to spend their evenings. During my luncheon, Emil, the head waiter, came over to my table. You know, Mr. O'Connell, it's a sad thing about Evan and Polly. Yes. She got married a few months back. You heard about it, didn't you? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know all about it.

Now everything is free.

Emil, does Evan ever come here anymore? What's the sad part about it? He still comes every Saturday night, just the same as usual. Has he a new girl? No, no, no, not at all. He still reserves the same little table. Has it set for two, orders two roses, and then he just sits there like a mummy. Orders a table for two and then comes here all alone, Emil? Exactly. He sits down, listens to the piano...

You can see what he's thinking of. But he won't give in. If he would only cry a little, get a little bit sentimental, maybe he would forget. I don't think he's the forgetting kind, Emil. Maybe not, maybe not. Only, Mr. O'Connell, it makes me sick here at my stomach to see him suffer so. It makes me mad at the whole world, the world he is trying to save. Well, Emil, that's the way of life. Some of us were born to be happy and some of us were born to suffer.

I want to help Evan very much, but he swears he won't see me until he produces a hit. What are you going to do with a fellow like that? I don't know. But I'll tell you what I did, Mr. O'Connell. I've collected $2,465 from waiters all over town toward his next play. He's almost got enough now. How much more does he need, Emil? $3,000. And this time, Mr. O'Connell, it's going to be different. Different? How?

He must have 10,000 investors in his new show. Everyone from paper boys to beauty shop operators. They've all kicked in all their pennies and, being investors, they will all show up at the theater. I see. With all those investors waiting to see their own show, they ought to have a sellout for weeks to come. That's right, Mr. O'Connell, that's right. Well, in that case, Emil, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send you a check for 3,000 dollars.

I want to be an angel and go to heaven. But promise me that you'll never let him know it came from me. All right. It's a deal, Mr. O'Connor. It's a deal. Part two of So Deep the Stream in just a moment. But first, a brief message from your announcer. So deep the stream

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

And now back to So Deep the Stream with Warren William as John Francis O'Connell. I wish you could have attended the opening night of Evan's new show, So Deep the Stream. Even the aisles were jammed with a shouting mass of humanity who wanted to tell the world just what they thought of Evan Warner. And when the final curtain went down... Thank you, friends. Thank you.

I made one big mistake in my life. I tried to produce a show for the people and by the people with money not of the people. It didn't work. This time things are different. So deep the stream is your show. Yes, the story of your life.

You, the boot blacks, you, the waiters and the steam fitters, you, the hairdressers and the seamstresses, you are the stream. I promise you that one day we'll have a people's theater where your own shows will be produced and financed by all of us. Yes, all of us with our pennies and nickels so that our message will be heard round the world. Our world. Our one world. Our one world.

Heaven Warner became the country's overnight sensation. Critics sensing the popular movement jumped on his bandwagon. Here was the great humanitarian, the new Lincoln. But others made over him too. Others in the form and shape of lovely Pamela Hazleton. She lost no time in becoming friendly. Oh, Evan, darling, what you haven't done to us. But you know I went downtown and applied for a job as a social worker this morning?

I want to work right in the midst of the poor and underprivileged. But, Pamela, I don't want you to go that far. After all, the work is hard, tiring. What would you have me do, Evan? Just sit here in this penthouse apartment and wait for you to call me? Well, I could think of worse things. Selfish genius. That's what you are, too. Now that you've converted me to your way of thinking, you want me to be a drone bee. But you're too beautiful, my darling, to go into the slums. All right, my dear one. Pamela's ready to compromise.

I'll stay away from social service work. If you'll take me to dinner at the Versailles tonight, and then we'll do the nightclubs. Now then, how's that? How could I resist, Pamela dear? And one more thing. Yes, sweet? I've scheduled you for the guest of honor at our next club meeting. All of my friends want to meet the young man who conquered Broadway single-handed.

Why, they consider you a new Daniel. A new Daniel? And a den full of lions, too. Social lions who think in terms of Rolls Royces and diamonds. It's not such a bad world, my darling. It offers many things your old world simply hasn't got. And more, it offers connections. And I do so want you to do a new show. One of your own. Something more for the intelligentsia this time. Well, it's a thought.

Maybe it's time I had a little nest egg, too. Everyone else seems to be getting them. Okay, we'll do it, Pamela. Of course we'll do it. Not long after, the engagement of Pamela and Evan was announced. Evan had deserted his ideal. He moved over to the swanky side of town. His name was mentioned almost daily in the society columns. But it was mentioned elsewhere, too. For example, in the little cafe on East 54th Street.

Emil minced no words. Can you beat it? Can you beat it, Mr. O'Connell? He and his friends all over town had faith in him and his ideals. We came to his rescue when he didn't have a friend or a red cent for that matter. And what happened? Success went to his head. So what does he do? Yes, yes, I know, Emil. But what he did has been done before and will be done again. That's what we can't figure out. Who is this Pamela girl? What has she got that she couldn't find in...

Well, say, Polly, for instance. Oh, yes, Polly. There was a fine girl. I wonder what ever happened to her. It's been months. I heard from her less than a month ago. She's coming back here, didn't you know? No, she's never written to me. Her husband was killed in an airplane wreck almost three months ago. She'll be here next month. Next month, eh? Maybe she'll be here in time for the opening of Evan's new show. His new show. That is very funny.

The carriage trade better come out in droves. Because we won't be there, you can be sure of that. As soon as Polly arrived, she came over to see me. Pale and wan from the ordeal she'd been through, I thought I detected a gleam in her eye, the gleam of a crusader. I had to go out of the country, John, to see that Evan was right. What I saw in Africa, well, I hate to go into it.

This tired old world does need another Lincoln, and I'm not fooling. Perhaps you're right, Polly. But what do you intend to do about it? I've told you what happened to Evan. He's to be married next month, you know. And he's sort of given up his, well, his crusade for humanity. John, listen. Evan wasn't the originator of this idea, was he? No, it goes back to his father, the original author. Yes, and if I remember correctly, his father had a whole trunk full of manuscripts. Where are they now? Still in the trunk, I guess.

Evan hasn't much more use for them. Well, that's what I'm driving at. I read many of those shows. One in particular was called Song of the Torch. Song of the Torch. I remember that one, too. It carried a powerful message. Satirical, but I thought it excellent. John, I want you to buy the rights to that show. Don't tell him who intends to finance it or who will produce it, but just get it at any price. I know that you're well able to finance it, Polly, but whom do you have in mind to produce it? I'll tell you, John.

The same people that made so deep the stream, the great hit that it was. The waiters, the bootblacks, the small fry. Yes, the people, John. Well, say, Polly, I think you've got something. Let the people do it. You're right. It's about them. Why not let them produce it? Good. I'll get busy right away. And maybe, well... Maybe what, John? Maybe it will bring Evan back to his senses. Gee, I never thought lawyers could be so intuitive. Oh, maybe you're right. And here's hoping...

I wondered how Evan felt about a month later when he read in the papers that the People's Theatre Group was opening with the Song of the Torch. I wondered, too, how he felt when his new show, Gay Blade, financed adequately by his wealthy friends, closed after a week's run. His conscience must have bothered him because one afternoon he came to see me at my office. It's just one of those things, John. The story was weak, the direction even worse.

I tried to hire Robert Light, but he was tied up in Hollywood. Yes, it's too bad, Evan. Tell me, how's Trix? You've certainly shied away from your old friends these past few months. Yeah, I know. But don't rub it in, John. You know how it is. Poor boy makes good wine, caviar. And Pamela? Oh, there's nothing wrong with Pamela, John. She's really fine, only... Only you're just beginning to learn that you were a fish out of water, eh, Evan? I guess that's it. Huh.

John, I've wanted to go back to the old crowd for months. My own people. Guys who learn life the hard way, but... It's hard to say, but I'm ashamed of myself. They...

They think I'm a heel, and I guess they're right, John. Well, maybe it's not too late to make amends, Evan. What can I do to square myself? They won't forget or forgive. No, I wouldn't say that. You know, of course, that one of your father's plays is opening this week. Day after tomorrow, in fact. Yes, I read all about it. I wanted to drop into rehearsals, but, well, you know, they'd run me out of the theater. Tell you what I'll do, Evan. I'll reserve seats for the opening night.

And you come with me. Come with you, boy? Oh, how will I? And thanks, Mr. Counselor. Thanks. The Song of the Torch played to an overflowing and enthusiastic audience. The program carried the name of no director, but that didn't stop the show from being a smash hit.

From our seat in the third row, we saw and sensed the beginning of something that transcended art and the stage. We saw public opinion being welded by a sheer force of dramatic intensity. As the curtain lowered, the people stormed their approach. They're calling Polly. Who's he done? I don't know. Must be the director or producer. Listen to him cheer.

It's Polly, John. It's our Polly. Stand up and cheer. It's Polly. She's wonderful. Thank you. Thank you, everyone. I didn't do much, honestly. All the credit for this great and wonderful show belongs to only two people. The first, to Frank Warner, who wrote it. And secondly, to the one and only Evan Warner, his son, who had the courage of his own convictions and who believed not only in his father...

but in us, the people. Without either of them to show us the way, this show would never have played. And it gives me the greatest of pleasure tonight, ladies and gentlemen, to present to you the guiding star, the one who was always behind me in this glorious venture, Evan Warner. Please, just a minute. Come up here, Evan. Come up here where you've always belonged. Come on.

Warren William will be back in just a moment to tell you the rest of the probate cause of So Deep the Stream. But first, here is a brief message from your announcer. So Deep the Stream

And here again is Warren William as John Francis O'Connell.

The People's Theatre Group is a thoroughly viral and potent influence on our lives today, thanks to Frank Warner and his son, Evan, and to Polly, Emile, and thousands of people who made it possible. Their message is the message of liberty and freedom. With Evan and Polly at the helm, you may confidently look ahead to a new movement in the theatre and perhaps in the shaping of a better world. THE PEOPLE'S THEATRE GROUP

Next week, I'm going to tell you the true story about a mad miser who accumulated a pile of gold dust that was well worth over a million dollars. This miser hated the thought that he would have to leave this fortune to his heirs, so he conceived a plan whereby he willed the gold to his relatives, but made sure they wouldn't have the pleasure of spending it.

We call this interesting story... Miser's Gold. This is Warren William inviting you to listen again next week. Strange Wills is written by Ken Kropene and directed by Robert Webster Light. Any similarity between names used in this story and those of living persons is purely coincidental. Strange Wills

Strange Wills is a Tellaways feature produced in Hollywood. Strange Wills is a Tellaways feature produced in Hollywood.

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The Witch's Tale. The fascination of the eerie. Weird, blood-chilling tales told by old Nancy, the Witch of Salem. And Satan, her wise black cat. They're waiting. Waiting for you. Now. The Witch's Tale.

122-year-old I'll be today. Yes, sir, 122-year-old. Well, Satan, tell everyone to douse their lights.

That's it. We want lots of darkness when we tell our bedtime stories. Now, draw up to the fire and gaze into the embers. Gaze into them deep and soon by the light of the moon and the stars, you'll see a barren stretch of land where two roads meet in old Massachusetts State.

Three policemen stand a-talking there beside their motorcycle mics, and soon you'll hear the story of the haunted crossroads. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. The haunted crossroads. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Sure you're not scared to have a slave here alone, Tom? Of course he's scared, Sergeant. Look at his knees shaking. I'll probably yell for help the minute you guys get out of my sight. Sure, Gene. I don't think he is properly frightened. I guess not. Well, if he sees any spooks, he can't say we haven't warned him. Seriously, boy, you'll keep your eyes peeled for other things than ghosts on this patrol. You bet I will, Uncle Phil.

and I hope it's my luck to have the skunk who knocked off Smith and Barclay here start something with me. Well, I hardly think that'll happen. Those killings weren't done by the same man. They were both stabbed in the back the same way. Oh, well, that doesn't prove anything. Several fellas were stabbed to death here right after the Civil War. And another about 20 years ago, according to all records.

It wasn't the same murderer who got them and two cops of our troops. Well, unless you believe the crazy stories about this place being haunted. I must be riding back to troop headquarters where Captain Elton will be skinning the height of me. And you, Gina Hardy, you better be after getting on your patrol. Well, I'll get the old bike moving.

Oh, when you get home in the morning, Tom, remind your sister she's got a movie date with me tomorrow night. Kathleen's not apt to forget any date she has with you. Trooper Harry, your job at the moment is to keep your eye peeled for speeders and reckless drivers. Well, I'll try to remember that, Sarge. Good night. Good night, Gene. Bye, boys. Kathleen...

Uncle Bert! What? Tom! I'm coming back, kid. Coming back. I'm coming, Sarge. Sarge, what is it? What has happened? I'm here. What happened?

Tom! Yes. He's dead. He'll... He can't be dead. We just left him. I started right after you rode away. Then I heard him hear it. Oh, merciful God, I raised that boy. He was like my own son. He's been stabbed in the back. Justice Smith was stabbed a week ago. And Barclay. Here at this same rotten crossroads. Now pull yourself together, Sarge. Oh, God. You know what I thought of Tom. But we're cops.

Listen, you were back here before I did. You must have seen him. I saw no more than you see now. Whoever did it got away. Take it easy. Take it easy. Tom wasn't alone here more than a minute. No one could have gotten to him across these open fields and then away again between the time I left and come back. And I saw no one but him and you. What was that? A woman's laugh. A woman's laugh.

You hear it, too? It sounded here, beside me. Right here beside us, at my very elbow. Yet no one's here. But we can see.

An invisible woman. That's the craziest part of your whole crazy story. But we did hear it, Captain Elton. It's true, so help me. But there wasn't any woman, by your own confession. You said you searched and couldn't find her. We looked everywhere around, sir. But there's no place there for anyone to hide. And like the hicks around here, you come to the conclusion those old crossroads are haunted.

A female ghost stabbed Tom Fallon with a very ungodly steel knife, I suppose. Which he carried away with her because you couldn't find it either. That's a fine way for two policemen to explain a murder. We're only telling you what really happened. But it couldn't have happened. Just the same it did. Now look here, sir. Tom Fallon was my closest friend. I'm engaged to marry his sister.

And Sergeant McGee here is his uncle. You don't think we'd lie to you when Tom's dead body lies out there in the squad room? He was like me own son. Here, Sergeant Pat. Sit down. I'm sorry I have to pound at you like this. But Tom is the second of the two that has been killed inside a week. At the same place. In the same way.

And last year, we found Barkley dead there. Three policemen stabbed to death and we haven't a single lead to the rat who did it. You think the same person killed them all, sir? Yes, and that person's a man, not a laughing invisible woman. A man was strength enough to kill with a single blow. Hardy, you say Fallon wasn't out of your sight for more than a few minutes before you heard him scream? Well, I'd only passed the first turn south of the crossroad, sir. A minute and a half at most. And you got back to him in about half that time. How about you, Sergeant McGee? I...

I left home right after Trooper Halley rode away, sir, and headed north. And neither of you saw any vehicles approaching from the east or west, nor passed any? No, sir. There was no traffic at all. Then, in the 70 or 80 seconds that Fallon was alone, someone ran across that completely open space, drove a knife into Tom Fallon's back, and then ran away again. It's crazy, but that's the way it must have happened. It's the only way it could have happened. It didn't happen! It's impossible!

The world's greatest sprinter couldn't have covered the necessary distance in that short time. And a running man must make a little noise. Yet Fallon saw and heard nothing until a knife was in his back. You're lying to me, both of you. By the Lord, if I didn't know how close you were to the boy, I'd say you bumped him off yourself. Captain, how don't... Don't say that, don't. Boy, I'm sorry. I don't mean that, of course. But unless you fellas change your story, the coroner's jury is going to ask some mighty embarrassing questions.

You've established yourselves as the only persons in the vicinity who could have come close enough to fall in. No one's going to think we had anything to do with this when they recollect those other killings at the crossroads. Even if they won't believe we heard that woman laugh. You've forgotten, Captain, that Tom is the third to die out there. By the same man's hand, you say. Last week when Smith was killed, Sergeant McGee and I were on duty with you in this station from the time Smith left here until his body was found.

And when Barclay got here a year ago... Then, George, you and I were up in Maine doing some fishing. Don't you remember? And Jane here. And I was serving a motorcycle escort for the governor. Now, no one will question that alibi. Yeah, you're right. But if you've told me the truth about tonight, what's the answer? I didn't have to listen to such a nutty yarn about Smith's and Barclay's murders. For no one was near them when it happened. They'd be dead for hours when found. Oh, excuse me, boys. The things I've said...

If I don't find someone to pin these stabbings on pretty soon, I'll be believing those damn crossroads are haunted. That's all. Just a minute. Come. Miss Fallon is here, sir. Bring her in. Yes, sir. Does she know her brother is... No. I telephoned her to come down here. That's all. You better break the news, Pat.

You're her uncle. No. No, not me. I can't even see her now. Let me out this other door before she... Quiet. Here she is. Pat, why did you telephone me to come down here? Jean. Uncle Pat. Why are you here? What's wrong? Let me out of here. Let me out. Uncle Pat. It's Tom. Something's happened to Tom. Tom, look at me. I don't know anything about it. Kathleen, dear. Miss Fallon. Tom was posted at the crossroads tonight. He's been killed there, like the others. Yes. Your brother is. Tom. Tom.

Oh, Tom. Dearest Kathleen. Let me out of here, or let me out. Oh, Pat. I can't bear to hear her cry like that. I can't bear to have her eyes upon me. She has eyes like Tom, and they accuse me. They accuse me. Accuse? Before God, I swear I didn't mean to kill him. I do. Yes, I killed him. I didn't tell you the truth.

I never left him at his post at all. I killed the boy I loved because something from the blackest hell got into me. I stabbed a knife into his back because I couldn't help myself. I was made to do it, made to do it. No, I'll pay for what I've done. Don't let him get his gun. He shot himself. Uncle Pat. He's dead.

Tom Fallon's murderer has just killed himself. He stabbed my brother. Oh, no. No, he couldn't. You heard what he said, Miss Fallon. But who killed Smith and Barclay? McGee couldn't have done that. No. Why did he say he couldn't help himself?

That he was made to kill his nephew. And what was the meaning of that woman's laugh I heard?

You in that car! Drive on, no stopping here! It's only me, Gene. Kathleen! You can put away your gun. But I'm glad to know you're being so careful here. Why drive away out here at this hour, honey? Oh, I couldn't sleep knowing you were posted alone at these crossroads tonight. Dear, I told you not to worry. I'm sorry.

A troop has been posted alone here every night for three weeks now, ever since poor Tom was killed. And nothing's happened. You think there's no danger here anymore, now that Uncle Pat's dead? Look, you mustn't stop thinking about him now. It's rather difficult not to think about him. I'll never understand why... He was out of his mind. That's the only explanation. But what drove him out of his mind? What could have made him destroy someone he loved, as we know he loved Tom? And he said he was made to do it. I don't know. Gene, you're all I have left.

If anything should happen to you now... Now nothing's going to hurt me, dear. Come on. Get a hold of yourself, sweetheart. But Uncle Pat had nothing to do with the other deaths here. He was miles away when Smith and Barclay were stabbed...

Jean, maybe this place is haunted. Oh, you don't believe that stuff any more than I do. You're just all upset and... Now, here. I'm going to disobey all standard orders of the state police and join you in this car for a little roadside parking. Oh, no, don't get in. I'd rather get out and walk a bit. I've never been out here before, you know. At night, I mean. Yeah, and you shouldn't be here now. Fine thing, driving this deserted old road at midnight. Have you got that little gun I gave you? Oh, yes, I always carry it when I drive alone. Ah, that's good. Well, come on, then, if you want to walk...

Jean, exactly where did you find Tom's body and Uncle Pat kneeling beside us? We're not going to talk any more about that. Oh, right. Really wouldn't do me any good to know. It's such a gloomy spot here. No cars passing, no road lamps. These are just old county roads.

No state trooper had to patrol here regularly until... Until after Frank Barclay was found stabbed here. Oh, Kathleen. I want to talk about it, Jean. I loved Uncle Pat. He was a good man, not a killer or a maniac. And I've got to find out what made him do the thing he did. Find out what made him say he couldn't help himself. Uncle Pat was in Maine when Frank Barclay was killed. Tell me about that. Well, all I know is that Barclay didn't report on schedule.

When they found him, he'd been dead for several hours. And then Smith, just a week before Tom. Like Barclay, he'd been dead for a long time when found. But Uncle Pat couldn't have done it. Oh, he wasn't out of my sight, and that of a dozen others at any time that night. Well, after that, Captain Elton made this a fixed post. Oh, I can't understand it. Neither can anyone else. And 70 years ago, the papers say, a town constable was stabbed here, and another constable about the time when we were children. That makes five. All policemen. Ah, screw you, all right.

But you mustn't think about it anymore, dear. And look, don't worry about me. Look around here. There's nothing but open spaces, sand and grass, and two level hard dirt roads. Why, there isn't a bush or a stone big enough for a cat to hide behind, let alone a man with a knife. No one could come close to you here, except someone you knew and trusted. As Uncle Pat was trusted by Tom, as you trust me. That's enough nonsense now. Go home, go to bed and sleep. And keep that little automatic of yours handy on the way.

Night driving's no business for a woman. I wish you'd let me stay. Not a chance. You want me to lose my job? That's what happens to cops who entertain ladies during business hours. But it's so gloomy here. So silent and eerie. It looks like a haunted place. Oh, Bunk. Here, give me a kiss and say goodnight. Oh, Jean. I can't lose you. You're not going to. I'm safer here than I'd be in a church. What was that? A woman laughing. Ah!

That's what I heard the other night. Look there. A woman's in the rose. She wasn't there a moment ago. How did... I'll soon find out. Jean, come back here. Stay in the car, Kathleen. You in the black dress. I want to talk to you. No, don't follow her, Jean. Come back. Wait, I tell you, whoever you are. Don't walk away from me. I'm an officer of the law. Don't go any closer to her. Don't. Don't let her touch you, Jean. Keep away. She disappears. She vanished as I watched her. Where did she go to? Come back here, Jean. Come back. I'm coming. What happened to that woman?

Love.

You're gone, Kathleen. Shoot me before I reach you. Shoot me. It's the only way to stop me, but I can't help myself. No, no. Yes, shoot me or I'll kill you with this knife. You're mad. Shoot. Shoot, I say, before I drive this knife into your back. Oh, my God, forgive me. It's the only way. I've shot you, Chief. I've shot you. She's here beside me, the woman in black. Give away. Give away. Give away. Oh, my God.

Come on, Miss Fallon. I want to hear more about this woman who laughed. This ghost. Oh, please. Please don't ask me any more questions now. I'll go after that operating room again, Captain Nelson. Make sure that Jean's going to live.

I only shot him to stop him. You stopped him, all right. Oh, yes, it's Dr. Atlanta. Oh, Doctor. It's all right, Miss Fallon. We've taken the bullet out of Cooper Hardy's shoulder and he'll be up and around again in just a few days. Oh, thank God. Thank God. And also, Jean, stop constitution. Now, let's off your mind. Will you please tell me exactly what happened at the Crossroads tonight? I'll answer all your questions now. What I've already heard has made me very curious. Sit down, Doc. It's your office and your hospital.

Go ahead, Miss Fannin. Let's hear all about that laughing, appearing and disappearing woman. If I were you, Captain, I'd withhold my judgment a while. Trooper Hardy has been babbling about the phantom woman under the ether. Under ether, people don't lie. He's been repeating over and over that he couldn't help himself. He couldn't. Some way, somehow, she made him want to kill me.

But he loved me. That love was stronger than her power. He had time to warn me. So you obligingly shot him? Yes. Then the woman reappeared again? Yes, beside me. And she laughed. She laughed horribly. And then, as I looked at her, she just wasn't there. A woman dressed in black, you say? Yes. A dress all folds. It might have been a shroud. A shroud.

And her face was like... like the dead. But with an awful purplish tinge, as if she'd been strangled. And around her throat there was a heavy rope that dangled to the ground. Oh, good, I'll see her till the day I die. I don't believe in ghosts. You've just shot one of my troopers. I don't care if you were engaged to marry him. I don't... That's enough, Captain. Out! What? I'm boss inside the walls of this hospital. And this girl is in no physical condition to stand your third degree.

Besides, I think she's telling the truth. The truth? Why not? We can't call a thing a lie simply because we don't understand it. And have you any better explanation than we've heard for the tragedy at those old crossroads? You don't think anything's supernatural. I think something that has lived beyond the span of ordinary human life is responsible. Remember those almost forgotten cases the newspapers have searched out? The man who was stabbed there in 1865? That other chap in the early 1900s?

One of the reporters told me they'd discovered several more crossroads stabbings in the records. A peace officer was killed there in Andy Jackson's time. And a member of the Watch was stabbed when Washington was president. Oh, policeman. By Joe. I hadn't thought of it just in that light. Miss Fallon, you say the Phantom Woman had a rope round her neck? Yes, a thick rope tied with a heavy knot. A hangman's rope. And at the crossroads in the early days, criminals were hanged and buried. What's that got to do with it?

Maybe a lot more than you think. Excuse me, Captain. Move a chair aside so as I can get to that bookcase. What? I want to find something. Something I've read and more than half forgotten. Policemen. Officers of the law. They've been the only ones to die at those crossroads where a gallows tree once stood. Oh, that's a coincidence. But you must admit a strange coincidence.

Here's the book. An old history of this county. History? Here it is. I knew I read it somewhere. Look. What is it, Doctor? I'll read it to you. Listen. On that 13th day of August, 1721, by order of the King's Governor, a gibbet of good stout oak had been erected at Berkeley Crossroads. That's the old name of our place, Captain Elton. Go on reading. Here it is.

And there the criminal, Goody Fairfax, was taken, still protesting her innocence of the foul crimes which had duly appeared. I'm innocent! No, no, I swear that I'm innocent!

Hold more tightly on her, Peter, so I can fix this rope round her scrawny neck. Let me go. Let me go. You cannot kill me. Ah, she wriggles like an ant. Wait no more time. Oh, no. I have done no murder. Have mercy. I am innocent, I swear.

Hey, you've had a fair trial, old dame, and been found guilty. And soon for your crime you'll be buried in the soil of infamy, here beneath this gallows tree. Nay, nay! Hey! So hold you fast, mate. Sit upon your grave. I'm not confident I won't. Ah, the rope's fast at last. All is ready, my lord sheriff, when you give the word. Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!

Our Lord, the King's High Sheriff, speaks. Nay, I who am about to die this unjust death will speak. Hear ye officers of so-called justice who have decreed this fate for me. As I die innocent of crime, I vow to return from death the murderer you do hang me for. As ye officers of blind law do for the death on

So I shall visit death on you with no more sense of right or pity. You mean to bury me beneath this gibbet in unhallowed ground, away from God. Whilst I remain away from God, beware. Beware, I warn ye, for not even death will stay my hate. I shall return to bring ye death years of

And though still screaming her threats of ghostly vengeance, the murderous Goody Fairfax was hanged to death.

Then the old account goes on. Her body was cut down from the gallows and buried underneath it at Berkeley Crossroads. The haunted crossroads. Captain Elton, whether or not you believe in ghosts, it might be a kindly thing if you search for Goody Fairfax's grave. And if you find it, to place her restless bones in hallowed ground. A kindly thing and a wise thing.

I haven't got over it yet.

There were human bones, a woman's bones, buried beneath those crossroads. I knew you'd find them if you only persisted in the search. He persisted, all right. Making us troopers do the digging with me on double shift. Ah, fine way to treat a man only a week out of hospital. And a newly married man. Oh, I thought that was a good way for you to earn your sergeant stripes. Sergeant stripes? Yeah, here's your warrant. Captain Elton. I had to make you two crazy ghosts here some kind of a wedding present. And this didn't cost me anything. Oh.

How can we ever thank you? Be happy. And Kathleen, let that first shot you had at your husband be the last. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Well, that's the end of that one, Satan. You folks come see us again on me birthday. We'll have another cheerful yarn to spin ye.

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X minus one, fire. From the far horizons of the unknown come transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space. These are stories of the future. Adventures in which you'll live in a million could be years on a thousand maybe worlds.

The National Broadcasting Company, in cooperation with Street & Smith, publishers of astounding science fiction, presents X minus 1. Tonight's story, The Castaways by Ernest Kenoy. In the South Pacific, night comes on rapidly. The sun dips below the flat horizon, the sea is crimson for a moment, and then night falls.

But on Tahani Atoll, giant arc lights turn night into day. Across the waters of the lagoon, within the barrier reef, launches and tugs skitter back and forth. While on the curving half moon of the island, army trucks and jeeps scuttle down the rough roads bulldozed by the Seabees just six weeks ago. A low Quonset hut stands near the beach surrounded by tangled wire. This is the preliminary command post, and inside is General Frank Gaydash, field director of the test.

Operation Destruction. Everything's on schedule, General. Radiological survey's complete. Instruments placement checked. Well, get me Navy and tell them H.R. is as ordered.

Send a periodic time check to Air Force on 90-week talk and observation control on the Missouri. Yes, sir. I want a complete roster check on all personnel before H-hour. Yes, sir. Oh, Nate Cohen wants to see you. Who the devil's he? AP man. He's been selected by the press radio pool to interview... I haven't got any time. Tell him to speak to Major Dwight Vredenberg. He's the PRO. I think perhaps you'd better see him, sir. The directive on public relations from Washington was very clear. How in blazes am I supposed to run a bomb test and play motherhand to a bunch of reporters? Washington said... All right, all right. Bring him in.

Morelli? Yes, sir. Get me some black coffee, will you? Yes, sir. This is Mr. Cohen, General Gaydar. How do you do, General? Lousy, as a matter of fact. Is that an official statement? No. You can run some of that... The world is at the crossroads, baloney. I wrote that yesterday. General, what effect do you think the new bomb will have on the world situation? I can't tell you that, even if I knew...

My job is to set the blasted thing off and see that nobody gets hurt and collect the data. Can I speak to you a moment, sir? Later, Alan. Go ahead, Cohen. Can you release anything on the scientific principles involved? I don't even understand them myself. Wait a minute. Dr. Muller? Yes? Come over here a minute, will you?

Cohen, this is Dr. Fred Muller, civilian scientific director. He's the only one who knows what's inside that warhead. How do you do, Mr. Cohen? How about a statement, doctor? Oh, I'm afraid all I'm allowed to say is that the bomb is new, it's extremely powerful, and off the record, it's very tricky and dangerous. What'll happen if it was off prematurely? I don't think we have to worry about that. In fact, we wouldn't even know about it.

If you'll excuse me now. How about the natives? Well, what about them? Aren't they going to be evacuated from the island? They already have been. General Gatorsh. I saw the Tahani chief outside when I came in. The whole tribe squatting down at the motor pool, having a conference. What? Alan. I've been trying to tell you, sir, the Tahani are still on the island. But why? The LCTs are ready, aren't they? Yes, sir, but they won't go. They refuse. The schedule called for their evacuation to Ma'ilani three hours ago. I realize that, sir, but...

I hoped we could still get them off without violence. Look, Alan, they're either on the island or off. Now, wait a minute. Cohen, that's all. What are you going to do about the natives, General? Never mind, I'll issue a statement later. You're going to force them? Go on, get out. I haven't got time. All right, General, thanks. Thanks a lot. All right, Alan, let's have it. Well, sir, that honey's been kicking up all along. They won't leave. They won't. Do they know what's going to happen to the island?

Do they know that we're going to blow it higher than a kite? I told the chief. He just said they won't go. They'll go, all right, if I have to. Yeah, hey, get him in here. The chief? Yeah, and that lieutenant who interprets. Yes, sir. How do you like that, Dr. Muller? I haven't got enough trouble. You know, I feel rather sorry for the Tahani. Can't make much sense to them.

We arrive and tell them they've got to get out. Look, I appreciate your finer feelings, Muller, but I can't let the Kanakas hold up the bomb test. They're not Kanakas, General. Captain Cook discovered the island in 1788. Well, what's the difference? Lieutenant Gilbert reporting, sir. Aloha. Hey, look, I haven't got time for ceremony, Gilbert. Tell the chief he and his tribe have got to get off the island.

We're providing homes for them on Mailani. Translate, Gilbert. The chief says you do not understand. Mailani is a bad island. My people have lived on Tehani from the time that our ancestors were cast away on the island. The spirits of our ancestors are buried in the earth.

Our fathers are buried here. Our father's father. If he thinks I'm going to move his graveyard, he's crazy. In our ancestors' time, the Tehani came in a great bird canoe. We were cast away on this island. We have made it our home. What right have you now to carry us over the sea to a strange land where we would die weeping for our homes? We will not go.

By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and we wept when we remembered Zion. Well, thank you, Dr. Muller. You're a great help. Say, Gilbert. Yes, sir. Tell him I have no choice. He's got till midnight to get his tribe on board those LCTs peacefully, or I'll have the Marine Detachment carry him aboard. Yes, sir.

I'm rather harsh, General. After all, justice is on their side. We're preparing to blow up their island, and we haven't asked them about it. Dr. Muller, will you kindly confine yourself to the scientific aspects of this operation? I'll take care of administrative matters. If you could explain to them what's at stake here... Any further explaining I've got to do, I'll do with the Marine detachments. I'm not going to hold up my schedule.

Well, Gilbert? I told him, sir. All right, get him out of here. I've had enough. What the devil's that? Some kind of a curse, sir. I can catch some of it. The island will remember the tears of its children and punish the invaders. The great destroyers will not destroy.

And the evil man who is the chief will travel far through the blackness of night. Even as the children of the island end, so will he. All right, Gilbert, take him away. Colonel Allen, get a detail from the Marine detachment with tear gas and small arms down to the motor pool. And in one hour, have those natives on that transport, and I don't care how they do it.

Is that my coffee, Varelli? Yes, sir. They must know about the bomb. The great destroyer will not destroy. You worried about that curse? I should think you might be. He threatened you personally. If I were you, I'd carry a pistol till they got off the island. The chief looked as if he'd cheerfully strangle you with his bare hands. I'm supposed to end the way they do. What's that? Probably the Tahani saying goodbye to their island. I think I'll go down to the motor pool. Stay out of the way.

and get back here in an hour. You've got to have this wrapped up and headquarters moved out to the Missouri by dawn.

Instrument room checking in, sir. That's the last. Have the Missouri take over control and send for my jeep. Yes, sir. Are the LCTs standing by for those natives? Yes, sir. They're on the beach. The bomb unit is assembled in place, General. 2330, right on the nose. Robin, start evacuation procedure. But, Tahani, you've stopped. Allen's probably moving them out to the beach. Check in with Navy and Air Force, Borelli. Yes, sir. What's that? Coming to the beach. But, Tahani, making trouble. Come on.

General. Hey, you. Gilbert, what is it? Colonel Allen ordered the Marines. Well, what happened? The natives just got up and started marching. Did they embark? You don't understand, sir. They marched up the cliff and right off into the lagoon. What? All of them. The women and the kids, too. They didn't even try to swim. What were you doing all this time, just standing around with your thumb in your mouth? Where was the Marine detachment? We couldn't stop them, sir. They just walked over the cliff. They didn't even scream. Not even the kids.

We sent the crash boats out, but we couldn't get them any of them. The crazy idiots. Were there any reporters there? Well, Cohen and a life photographer. Well, get his film and hold it till I release it. What are you going to do, General? Suspone H. Hour? It's too late for that now. And calling H. Hour off isn't going to bring the natives back. But 100 men, women, and children just walking into the water. It's horrible. I know. I'm not happy about it either. There's nothing we can do now. I gave him a chance to get off. I was just thinking about the curse the chief put on you.

Even as the children of the island end, so will he. That's what he said to you, General. I know. I heard him. Your jeep's waiting, General. The great destroyer will not destroy. That must mean the bomb. Don't worry, Dr. Muller. It'll take more than a mumbo-jumbo curse from a native witch doctor to stop this operation. At each hour, that bomb goes off.

It is now H hour minus one minute, 30 seconds. H minus one, 30. Video screens hooked in, sir. All right, check control stations. Observation station one. Observation station one, check. Radiation station. Radiation control, check. Test the firing circuit, Dr. Muller. Right, General. Damage control station. Damage control, check. All set. Communications. Communications, check.

I'll check in, sir. It is H minus one minute. H minus one. Take a good look at that island on that screen, Dr. Muller. When you throw that key, it just won't be there anymore. Nothing but an atom mushroom over the lagoon. Quite a funeral pyre for the Tahanis. Stolen idiots. They can't get in the way of progress. Progress? I wonder if it is, General. It is H minus 30 seconds.

H hour minus 29, 28, 27, 26... The Great Destroyer. That's what he called the bomb. Hold it, Muller. Allen, report. All checked in, sir. Camera's running. Sound fire warning. Stand by for firing. Ready, Muller? Ready. 8, 7, 6, 4, 3, 2, 1... Fire! General...

It didn't go off. The bomb didn't go off. Borelli, signal standby. Condition red. Yes, sir. Allen, check readings. What's wrong? What happened? I don't know. The bomb didn't go off. What do you mean? Why didn't it? I don't know, except for one thing. The Tahani chief said the great destroyer would not destroy. It didn't, General. The bomb didn't go off. How about it, General? What happened? Have you got a statement? Nothing you can use, Cohen. Not until we find out what went wrong.

Hey, who let you come aboard this ship? I walked on. You don't know why the bomb failed? It didn't fail. It just didn't go off. What's that tank thing on the deck, General? Undersea salvage unit, Mark 4. They call it a bottom crawler. Somebody going down? Well, that bomb is down there in the lagoon somewhere. Could go off at any second. Somebody's got to go down and find it and disarm it. That's a lovely job. Who's elected? I am. Wow. And Dr. Muller. He's the only one who knows how to dismantle it. All is ready, General. All right. Come on, Muller.

I'm ready. Allen, as soon as we hit shallow water, get those gates open. We'll pull the crawler out. And then you get away in a hurry. If that bomb goes while we're working on it, I don't want any casualties. Yes, sir. Inside, Muller. All right. I'm in. Now, remember, get this LST out of the lagoon in a hurry. You got that, Allen? You take your orders from Admiral Yancey. Yes, sir. Good luck. Closing the hatch. The radar and Geiger counter warmed up, Muller. I was just thinking of something, General. That curse. Part of it came true.

The bomb didn't go off. Well? The second part of that curse was that you would end where they ended. That was at the bottom of the lagoon. What are you trying to do, Muller? Nothing. I was just thinking this crawler is going to take us right down there where the Tahani died. I'm not worried about a handful of dead natives, Muller. I'm worried about that bomb. Okay, they're opening the gate. Let's go. USU-4 to Control.

Depth 50 feet, bottom sandy, dropping off sharp. Anything on sonar, Muller? School of fish. You ever been down in a crawler before? Only in the tank at New London. Think I've got a Geiger reading dead ahead. Hang on. Getting something on sonar now. Left a point. USU-4 to control. Over. USU-4 to control. Over. That's a fine note the radio's out. Dead ahead.

Looks too large to be the bomb. Can't see much on the forward vision plate. Hey, wait a minute. That's part of the reef ahead. That's where the Geiger reading indicated. The bomb must have settled in a hole in the reef. We'll have to go after it in diving suits. The suits are in the locker. Let's get this over with. The less time I spend down here waiting for that bomb to blow, the better I like it. Muller, is your helmet clamped tight? You getting me all right on your headset? Okay. I'm going to fill the lock. Here goes the outer door. Let's go.

This isn't like that diving tank in New London. Look out for that coral. It can cut you to ribbons. There's a hole of some sort there. Wait till I get the lighter. See if you can get a Geiger reading out of that hole. Just do it. It's down there, all right. Careful. I'll drop down first. See anything down there? Muller, get down here fast. What is it? Find something? The bottom of this hole. It's metal. And the sides. It's the coral reef. Look, welded joints. These are hull plates of some kind. Look out! Above us! It's closing! Grab it!

Too late. A metal hatch. It just slid over the top. This is impossible. What's going on? It's like an airlock. The water's being pumped out. General, do you realize what this means? I'm not sure. There's an inner door opening. Careful. It's a passageway. What do we do now? There isn't much we can do. We can take off our helmets, though. The dial shows good air. All right. Come on.

What is this? An undersea fort? What's it doing here? What does it mean? Whatever it is, our bomb must be down here. Wait, there's someone there. I can't see. There's a shadow. Who is it? Who's there? Welcome, Dr. Muller. Welcome to our ship. We've been waiting for you. General, it can't be. Do you see it? It's the Tahani chief. The Tahani Chief

How long has the bottom crawler been down, Varely? Four hours, sir. Two since we lost contact. Now, keep trying. Yes, sir.

I've given him enough time. I'm going to send another crawler down. What do you figure happened to him, Colonel? Well, a lot of things. Hey, how did you get in here? I walked in. When are you going to release this, Colonel? It's the biggest story since the election. Bomba dead and Dr. Muller and General Gaydash dead. They're not dead. At least we don't know they are. As long as that bomb doesn't go off, there's still a chance. What happened? Bomba. Curly, condition red. Gilbert.

Radiation control into action. Get the hot squad into Tahani Lagoon as soon as it's cleared. And get me a PT boat with radiation screens. What is it, Colonel? What happened? Bomb must have blown. How about Mueller and the general? If they were down there in that lagoon, you guess. Now get out of my way. I'm busy. Radiation reading 75 and steady. Take her in as close to the beach as you can. Steady as she goes. Any danger of any more explosions? No. When she goes, she goes. Radiation 82. That's still safe. Cohen, is that something on the beach?

Yeah. Looks like a body. Maybe you blew one of the Tahani back out of the lagoon. No, no. It's moving. Gilbert, Glasses. Yes, sir. It's a man, all right. Head into the beach. Who is it, Colonel? Can't tell. He's in a diving suit. It's either Muller or General Gadoff. Get his helmet off. Easy now. Twist to the right. It's Muller.

Uh... Gilbert, help me get him out of this diving suit. We've got to get him to the medics. No radiation burns, superficial bruises, mild shock. He'll be all right, Colonel. Can he talk? For a while. I'll let him go off. It didn't. He's still out of his head. Quiet, Cohen. Go on, Dr. Muller. What did you find? A ship. A giant metal ship there under the lagoon. Submarine? No, no. It was a spaceship. Space ship? Camouflaged right next to the reef. When...

When we went inside, we found the D'Honey chief and all the tribe alive. What? They drowned in the lagoon. I saw them. No, they didn't commit suicide as we thought. They just dived underwater into the rocket airlock. Rocket airlocks? Now, look, Muller, I know you've suffered a shock, but... But it's true. It can't be.

A spaceship built by Polynesian savages. But they're not savages. They're the castaways. They're from another planet. Don't you understand? Their spaceship was wrecked here 400 years ago. They've been waiting ever since for a chance to go home. He's out of his mind. Better give him a sedative, Doctor. No, no. Wait a minute, Colonel. Remember their story about the great bird canoe? Maybe there's something to the legend. Not the legend. It's true. They

They'd exhausted their fuel, came down out of space, couldn't find anything here on Earth to replace their fuel source until we developed atomic power. Atomic power? You mean they stole our bomb? That's right. Fished it out of the lagoon, hauled it aboard. Yes, but how could they convert it to atomic drive? They made me dismantle it for them at the point of a gun. Then just before they blasted off, they let me go. But what about the generals?

Remember the Tahani curse? I see. You mean they killed him. You don't understand. I said I dismantled that bomb at the point of a gun. It was General Gadasch who was holding the gun. What? He was one of them, one of their spies, sent out to bring back the rocket fuel they needed. And the Tahani curse wasn't a curse at all. It said that when they left the island, so would he. You mean he's with them now? Yes. Yes.

And after 400 years, the castaways are going home. You have just heard X-1, presented by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of astounding science fiction. Your announcer, Fred Collins. X-1 was an NBC Radio Network production. X-1

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

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