cover of episode “THE GIRL AND THE GALLOWS” and More Dark #RetroRadio Stories! EP0269 #WeirdDarkness

“THE GIRL AND THE GALLOWS” and More Dark #RetroRadio Stories! EP0269 #WeirdDarkness

2024/12/11
logo of podcast Weird Darkness: Stories of the Paranormal, Supernatural, Legends, Lore, Mysterious, Macabre, Unsolved

Weird Darkness: Stories of the Paranormal, Supernatural, Legends, Lore, Mysterious, Macabre, Unsolved

People
A
Agatha Maggs
A
Amos
A
Arch Obler
C
Captain
D
Dr. Peter Tortano
E
E.G. Marshall
E
Earl Janeth
F
Frank Merritt
G
George
广播和播客主持,专注于财务教育和咨询。
G
George Stroud
H
Hampton
H
Helen Stroud
J
Jean
K
Kathleen
L
Laura Mason
L
Lieutenant Ben Guthrie
L
Lou Locke
M
Maria True
M
Max Haynes
P
Pauline York
R
Raven
R
Ray Stapleton
R
Raymond
R
Richard Crane
R
Rita Gay
S
Sally
S
Sergeant Matt Grabb
S
Steve Hagen
T
Tony
无相关信息。
W
William Keeling
旁白
警官
Topics
E.G. Marshall: 故事背景设定在英国摄政时期,这段时期国王乔治三世间歇性发狂,对故事发展起到了重要作用。摄政王乔治四世只追求个人享乐,导致英国社会风气奢靡。故事讲述了当时英国社会对童工的残酷剥削,以及Lady Emily 经历的类似死亡的超自然体验。 Marion Seldes: Lady Emily的丈夫对她厌倦,这与她经历的“死亡体验”有关。Lady Emily 经历了一种类似死亡的体验,但她却感到快乐。Lady Emily 的“死亡体验”并非肉体死亡,而是一种精神上的脱离。在“死亡体验”中,她的形象有时会被别人看到,就像幽灵一样。Lady Emily 反对使用童工清理烟囱,但她丈夫违背了诺言,使用了童工,导致男孩死亡。 Maria True: Maria 对爬烟囱男孩的年龄表示怀疑,认为他可能比自称的年龄小得多。Maria 揭露了爬烟囱男孩被拐卖和虐待的真相,并讲述了一个被拐卖的爬烟囱男孩的故事,说明了当时社会对童工的残酷剥削。Maria 认为男孩不想活下去。Maria 向医生描述Lady Emily 的“死亡体验”如同死亡,但Lady Emily 本人并未死亡。Maria 相信Lady Emily 的灵魂在男孩死后离开了房间。Maria 闻到烟味,发现火灾,并看到Lady Emily 从火灾现场拖出一个尸体。爬烟囱的男孩在死前告诉了Emily 关于火灾的事情。

Deep Dive

Key Insights

WHY did the climbing boy fall down the chimney?

The climbing boy, likely very young, stopped partway up the chimney. Lord Hollander, impatient, instructed the sweep, Harding, to use pins to prod the boy upward. When that failed, a fire was lit beneath him. The boy, in fear or pain, let go and fell.

WHY did Lady Emily want to adopt the climbing boy?

Lady Emily, still grieving the death of her own young son, Peter, saw the climbing boy as a replacement. She believed he was about the same age her son would have been and felt a strong urge to care for him.

WHY did Lord Hollander object to adopting the boy?

Lord Hollander saw the boy as a burden and didn't want the responsibility. He also expressed concern about the boy's unknown background and potential health issues.

WHY did Maria see a ghostly woman and boy by the yew trees?

Maria, after witnessing Lady Emily's "dead spells" and the strange circumstances surrounding the boy's death and the fire, seems to have become convinced of Emily's supernatural abilities. She saw Emily's spirit with the climbing boy and, later, her own son, Peter, suggesting a merging of their souls in the afterlife.

WHY was Karen Marlowe suspicious of Laura Mason?

Laura Mason, Karen's father's fiancée, predicted Dennis Marlowe's murder during a trance. This, combined with the fact that Laura would inherit Dennis's wealth if he died, made Karen deeply suspicious.

WHY did Laura Mason disappear from her apartment?

Laura Mason was never a real person. The apartment was a staged set used for seances, and her appearance, along with the ringing buzzer and phone calls, were tricks designed to drive Karen insane and elicit a confession.

WHY did the cellar floor in Craig's house appear to drop?

The cellar floor hadn't actually dropped. Craig had dug a hole to bury his wife, Sally, and then disguised it with a leveling job. Ham, the ranger, noticed inconsistencies which led him to suspect foul play.

WHY did Ham suspect Craig of murdering Sally?

Ham noticed inconsistencies in Craig's story about Sally's weekend trip, including her leaving her purse and hat behind. Combined with rumors about Sally's infidelity and Craig's long absences, Ham suspected Craig killed Sally in a fit of rage.

WHY was Mr. Maggs so interested in the old chest?

Mr. Maggs was drawn to the mystery of the locked chest and its unknown contents, seeing it as a potential bargain. He was unaware of its dark history.

WHY were there traces of blood inside the chest?

The chest was previously used by a murderer to store his victims. This gruesome detail was unknown to Mr. Maggs when he purchased it.

WHY did George Stroud quit his job at Crimeways?

Stroud was denied his long-promised honeymoon vacation by Earl Janeth, who demanded he stay and work on a new case. Feeling undervalued and prioritizing his marriage, Stroud quit.

WHY did Earl Janeth want to find Jefferson Randolph?

Janeth, having killed Pauline York, orchestrated a fake investigation to find a scapegoat. Randolph, having been seen with Pauline, became the target, allowing Janeth to deflect suspicion.

WHY did Dr. Tortano invite his students to the island?

Dr. Tortano, under the guise of a celebratory weekend, conducted a dangerous experiment on his students, administering a stimulant to induce hallucinations and observe their effects.

WHY did Gloria attack Dick and Dr. Tortano?

Gloria received an overdose of the stimulant, which caused her to go mad and become a violent creature, ultimately killing both Dick and Dr. Tortano.

Chapters
This chapter recounts a historical mystery drama set during the Regency era in England, focusing on a young climbing boy's tragic fate. Lady Emily's peculiar 'dead spells' and her attempt to adopt the boy intertwine with the harsh realities faced by child chimney sweeps.
  • Regency era England
  • child chimney sweeps
  • Lady Emily's 'dead spells'
  • climbing boy's death
  • adoption attempt

Shownotes Transcript

Translations:
中文

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As 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. Bye. See ya!

Present... Suspense! I am the Whistler.

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

You can also visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you're struggling with depression, dark thoughts, or addiction. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into Weird Darkness' retro radio. The CBS Radio Mystery Theater presents...

Come in. Welcome. I'm E.G. Marshall.

We've a story to tell you which will take you back in time to a period when our country was very young and the country from which we separated was centuries old. One reason we are Americans and not Englishmen is that King George III was mad periodically during his early years on the throne, continuously for the last 11.

This 11-year period, known as the Regency, provides us with a background for the story that follows. And I must confess, Maria, her attitude seemed very odd to me. It was odd, Doctor, unless you understand, understand and accept her ability to, to remove herself from this world. Remove herself? Yes.

Oh, I don't know any way that that can be done until death does it for us. But she says it's very like death, but a very happy thing. It would be pleasant, wouldn't it, to think of death as a happy thing? At least for the one who dies. But I fancy it is, Doctor. It's those who must live on who suffer, wouldn't you say? Yes.

Our mystery drama, The Climbing Boy, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Elspeth Erick and stars Marion Seldes. It is sponsored in part by Buick Motor Division. I'll be back shortly with Act One. ♪♪

The Regent, who was not to become George IV till the death of his mad father in 1820, was not a wicked man, nor even a malicious one. It was simply that he lived exclusively for his own pleasure, and in so doing, set the lifestyle for most Englishmen, at least for those who could afford it. One who could not afford it tells us why.

Had it not been for the deep and abiding affection I bore Lady Emily, I should never have accepted her invitation to spend a fortnight at Feathers. I despised Lord Hollander, and I'm sure he thoroughly reciprocated my feeling. But her invitation carried more, I felt, than a simple desire to enjoy my company. It held a note of desperation. I hope, my dear Maria, you will not be put off by the fact that Lord and Lady Aggramont will also be our guests.

It is nothing new for Rodney to bring his mistress into our home. But this time, he's had the audacity to invite her husband as well. You know what a foolish, foppish man Lord Aggramont is. To have to sit by and witness Rodney's dalliance with Hester is bad enough. To listen to William's inanities is more than I can endure. And so it was that I grimly packed my portmanteau and took the coach to Feathers. Maria...

Maria, how good of you to come. Only for you, my dear, would I? Oh, Maria. Come upstairs, and I'll show you to your room. Just leave your porkmanto. Tipson will bring it up, or somebody will. Come on. Here's your room, right next to mine. Oh, it's lovely. Well, it's a bit on the chill side right now.

So is the whole house, for that matter. But Rodney's having the chimney swept out this morning, and once that's done, we'll have a great roaring fire going for you. Oh, that'll be lovely. Oh, Maria, I know I'm not giving you time to settle in or anything, but I had to talk to you privately. You're the only one I can talk to.

You're my only friend, really. Emily, dear, don't agitate yourself so. Of course you can talk to me. But I haven't even asked you if you're hungry. If you want a cup of tea or anything. Later, later. You're trembling. Now, what is it? Well, of course you know how things are between Rodney and me. Yes, I have some idea. Not good. Hester Aggramont...

She's only the latest in a long line of mistresses he's had. Her husband doesn't seem to care. And to bring them both into this house. Only for the weekend. But it should be this weekend, Maria. It's just a year ago that it happened. You mean Peter? That we lost him. Rodney hasn't approached me since. I haven't wanted him to. Oh, it's not because he's grieving for our son. Oh, no, it's not that. It's because he's become...

Well, let's say, weary of me. Weary of my spells. He dislikes them intensely. What spells? You don't have spells. Oh, yes, I do. Rodney's right about that. My dead spells, he calls them. And that's not at all a poor description either. But I feel very close to death during those spells. Emily, you can't mean that. Oh, I do. Oh.

But it's... it's a happy feeling. Believe me, it is. But it can't be. What on earth are you talking about? It's not a physical death, Maria. During the spells, I'm here all right. I talk, walk, eat, drink, and order the servants about and plan meals. I do all the things I always do. Only part of me isn't here at all. Well? Where is it? I don't know precisely. But not here.

How long has this been going on? Since Peter died. Oh, since shortly after. Poor little boy. He was only five years old, Maria. I know. And I suppose that in my... my dead spells, I'm trying to be with Peter. I have the feeling that he needs me. And you say this has been going on for a whole year? Well, the first one was just under a year ago.

I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't mean to do it. Not the first time. I can go off now any time I want to. You want to? You do it on purpose? Oh, Maria, yes. When I can't bear it here any longer, it's wonderful to have some place to go. I'll grant you that. There are times when I'd like a place to go. But, Emily, where is it that you go? I don't know.

Or perhaps I do now. But I can't talk about it. I'm in another world. Oh, my body is here. My body with all its faculties. Sight, speech, hearing. The essence of myself is somewhere else. You make it sound like some sort of mystical experience. Perhaps it is. Emily, tell me something. When you... When you...

Go someplace else, and yet your body stays here. Yes? Well, can it... Can you be seen? Is there something... I mean, is there something of you that can be recognized? I'm not quite sure. One time, when I went off in the middle of the night, Rodney swears he saw a ghost wandering across the lawn. The ghost of a woman, he said.

With long, dark hair trailing down her back. Nearly to her knees. As yours does. You and I know there are no ghosts. And that night, being so put out by Rodney's teasing, I know I wanted him to see me. Wanted it intensely. That he should see and understand I could leave him any time I wanted to.

In the spirit, if not in the flesh. Oh, Emily, I do hope you know what you're about. I'm able to live, Maria. Otherwise... Otherwise what? Who knows? Emily! Emily? Yes? Who is it? William, my dear. Is it all right if we... Of course. Come in, William. Ah, Tipson said I might find you here. You remember Maria True, William? Yes.

Oh, yes, yes. How are you, Maria? Very well, and you? Thought I'd hack about the countryside for an hour before lunch, and thought you might come with me, Emily. Hate to ride alone. I'm afraid not. There's so much to be done here. Oh. Maria? I don't ride. Oh, it's a pity. Well, why don't you ask Rodney to accompany you? I'm sure he'd love to. He would, but he's otherwise engaged.

Oh? Oh, not what you think, my dear. No, no, his time's being taken up by some local fellow named Harding, I believe. Harding? Had two small boys with him. But that Harding, the chimney sweep. Yes, yes, I believe there was some talk about cleaning out chimneys. But we have a machine for doing that. All right, I'm off to the stables. See you at the luncheon table. It can't be.

He can't have called in Harding. We have a machine. I never heard of a machine for sweeping chimneys. Well, it isn't really a machine. It's a very, very long brush. You can reach way up the chimney with it. I had one sent down from London only last week.

Well, let's go downstairs and see what's happening. Oh, yes. I can't bear the thought of using these climbing boys. They're so young. They have to be at least eight years of age. That's a law. They shouldn't be used at all. There should be a law to that effect. The select committee has just failed for the third time to pass a bill like that. It was laughed down in the House of Lords. Laughed down? What was there to laugh at? Oh, someone made what they considered a very funny speech...

saying that the climbing boys were like a dose of calomel prescribed by a doctor to clean out the system. Canlery.

We must see what's going on. I won't permit it. Not in my house. Up you go, my boy. Up, up. Rodney, whatever are you doing? Why aren't you using the long brush? Why is this boy... Don't pass, Emily. Rodney, you swore to me. Tipson flatly refused to use the brush. So what was I to do? You could have used it yourself. Myself? Oh, come now. You promised no climbing boy would enter this house.

Can't you hustle him up a bit, Harding? He's only gone up about six feet and stopped there. What are you going to do? Nothing to do, State Lady Orlander. There, boy. Up and after him. What? I'm

I'm giving this olive oil a pin, my lady. A coming pin. What on earth for? I mean, go up after the little one and give him a few jabs with the pin. What? I mean, the soul's the little one's feature. See, that'll move him all right. Oh, no, you can't. You can't. All right, now, boy, up with you. Just a few jabs with the pin. Don't overdo it. Just enough to get him moving on up, you know how. I can't believe what I'm seeing. What are you doing up there?

No good, huh? Won't move, huh? Well, I'm off. Nobody wants a bit of a cross-country ride, eh?

William!

You're not lighting it. But of course I am. Now, that's a little something. Let's see what we've got here. Well, here's a few pages from the London Tattoo. No, that'll do the trick. Oh, you can't. Stop it. Brute. You brute. I don't move him, all right. If he doesn't want his feet burnt to a crisp. All right, move, boy. I can't bear it. I can't. Oh, my dear. Go to your room, Emily. No, no.

Is he moving? Oh, he must be. Oh, dear God. He's fallen. He's fallen. Oh, my boy. Oh, poor boy. Man's inhumanity to man. All true, dear listener.

And it all happened just this way. Small boys who had no one to protect them. No parents, no friends. No one who cared. And no government. So it went in merry England during the reign of the Prince of Pleasure. I'll be back shortly with Act Two. The last we heard from our climbing boy was not a spoken word.

Indeed, we have yet to hear him speak at all. No, it was the sound of his small body crashing down the chimney of Lord Rodney Hollander's country estate after pins had been stuck into his dangling legs in an effort to force him further up the chimney. And as a last resort, a fire had been lighted beneath him. Now it is an hour later and luncheon is being served.

Where's Emily? She should be here. She's upstairs, I believe. Doing what? I believe she's with the boy. The climbing boy? The one who fell down the chimney. He didn't fall. He simply let go and dropped. Why didn't she send him home with Harding? I believe she's giving him a bath. A what? A bath? You said a bath.

Whatever for? I've always... I've always understood that climbing boys never bathe. Well, it makes sense now, doesn't it? Will you all excuse me? Where are you going, Maria? Upstairs. But there's a saddle of mutton coming, Maria. I've had enough, thank you. I'll be with Emily.

I'm not sure Maria's the sort of friend Emily should cultivate, Rodney. Oh, I know. What can I do? Emily's very set in her ways. Dear boy...

I'm going to have to let you soak in the warm water. The dirt has ground into your skin. I'm afraid to scrub any harder. Just sit here. May I? Thank you. What's your name? You don't know? Is that what you're trying to tell me?

It is. Well, why don't we give you a name? Would you like that? How would you like to be called? Well, how about Peter? Do you like that for a name? Oh, you do? Then we shall call you Peter. Peter shall be your name. Very apt. Oh, Maria. I was just talking to the boy here. He's not very talkative himself, but I expect that's because he's shy.

Are you shy, Peter? I don't think he knows the word. Oh, there's so much he doesn't know. Peter, if that's to be your name, for the time being at least, how old are you? Yes, darling. How old? Do you know? Eight. You're eight years old. Yes. Eight. Marie, I don't believe it. Eight. Look at that tiny body.

He's not eight years old. He looks more to be like five or even four. His occupation does not encourage growth. However, you're not really eight years old, are you, Peter? Yes, eight, eight. He's just been told to say that. Threatened, probably. He's about the age my boy would be had he lived.

Well, let's get on with this bath, shall we? It's going to take a month of soaking before you'll get rid of this dirt. It's formed a crust all over him. And then, heaven's boy, what do they give you to eat? Yes, Peter dear. What does Mr. Harding feed you? Tell me. I want to know. Please. Nothing. Nothing? Nothing.

Is that possible? Oh, Maria, fetch him some milk and whatever else you think that... Yes, maybe some of the lunch and soup. Oh, yes, do hurry. Oh, Peter, you shall have some nice, rich, fresh milk right from our own sweet cows. You'll like that, won't you? Won't you? I don't believe you know what milk is. Is that possible? Oh.

I've come to fetch some milk. Where's Emily? She's with the boy. The milk's for the boy. The boy? Maria, I forbid it. Nevertheless... This is my house. It's my milk and I forbid it. Nobody feeds the climbing boys, Maria. They're supposed to fend for themselves. Rodney, these boys are sold to the older men who use them. Not only that, they're often kidnapped. Oh, I can't believe that. Well, it's quite true.

You know the story of the Strickland boy, don't you? Strickland?

Who, the Stricklands from Manchester? Yes, a climbing boy came crashing down the chimney of a home they were visiting. A tiny boy and very handsome. And the Stricklands took him home with them. Oh, that's a mistake. Grave mistake right there. And when the boy saw the silver forks the Stricklands use, he cried out, My papa has forks like this. My word. And the boy said the Lord's Prayer each night without being taught it. Obviously, a boy of good family. Yes, and then the story came out after some investigation.

The boy's mother was dead. The father was traveling abroad, and the child had been left in the care of an uncle. The gypsies abducted him and sold him to a sweep for ten guineas. And that boy was four years old. Four? Oh, yes, that's very young. Well, if you'll take a look at the boy in the tub upstairs, you'll conclude that he could be four years old, five at the very most. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll fetch the milk. THE END

I put him in my bed, Maria. Poor little boy. He looks so frail, doesn't he? He couldn't take the milk. Oh, perhaps I should have heated it. I sent for Dr. Carruthers. If you don't eat, you'll die. Do you know that? You do. What did he say? He doesn't say anything. He just nods his head. What does that mean? I'd say it means he wants to die. Peter, that's not what you want, is it, my darling? No.

You want to live and grow up to be a fine, strong boy. And have a wonderful life. But don't... Don't turn your head away. Please. Please look at me. Now, you're not going to die. I'm not going to let you die. All right.

Too bad Lady Emily had to miss that superb dinner. There was no need for her to miss it. Emily's very stubborn sometimes. Oh, yes, I can see that. Makes it quite difficult for me, you understand? Oh, quite, quite, quite. I swear, that woman gets more peculiar all the time. In what way peculiar? Well, she has these...

Spells, you know. Hold on a minute. I do believe Emily is coming down. Oh, my dear. Glad you could join us. Where's Maria? She's with the boy. We're expecting Dr. Carruthers momentarily. You sent for Carruthers? In heaven's name, why? Because the boy is ill.

But you should have sent him back to Harding. Let Harding look after him. It's because of Harding the boy is ill. Oh, nonsense, Emily. Really. Rodney. Rodney, I want to adopt this boy. Adopt him? Well, he's just about the age Peter would be now. That's what Maria thinks and so do I. He needs care and love and all sorts of things I can give him and that...

That he's not going to get from anyone else if he goes on with the life he's been leading. Dear Emily, I know your tender heart. But why should you give him anything? He's not your responsibility. I know that. I want to make him my responsibility. I want to adopt him, Rodney. Oh, no. It's out of the question. Why is it out of the question? Well, it simply is. I have no desire for a son...

Not my own. I have.

We know nothing at all about this boy. We could ask Harding. We could ask him from whom he bought him. Or stole him. No, no, no, no, no. You might find out something interesting, Rodney. Now, Maria, kindly keep out of this. I just wanted to remind you of the Stricklands. They adopted that boy. They educated him. Yes, you see, Rodney, we could do the same. I don't know. That must be the doctor. I saw his track pull up. Oh, let him in, Maria, and take him upstairs, will you? Of course I shall. Oh, Rodney...

Please do this one thing for me. Please. In here, Dr. Carruthers. After you, Miss True. Well, this is the patient? Yes. This is not Lady Emily's boy. Oh, no. He's a climbing boy who was brought here to sweep out the chimneys.

Why, this boy is half dead already. Why wasn't I called sooner? Well, we only just... We didn't know. He fell down the chimney. He's no more than four or five, I'd say. We fed him some milk, but he couldn't keep it down. Well, he hasn't had milk in a long time. If ever the boy is dying, it's true. But he can't. He can't die. There's nothing I can do...

These climbing boys, there's no hope for them. But there must be something you can do. They die of exposure of bad food or no food, of burns, beatings, overwork. Most of all, I say they die of a wish to die. That's what Emily and I... Yes? We were saying he didn't seem to want to live. Would you? No.

Would you want to live his life? Their lungs are filled with mortar and soot that blinds them, chokes them. Most of them develop asthma or some other respiratory condition. Their knees and elbows are bruised. It's terrible. It's all so terrible. Why, Miss True, do you know that climbing boys have been sent up chimneys that were already on fire? I think I'll...

Our climbing boy has breathed his last, Miss Drew. Oh, no. No. Don't grieve. He's better off. But, Emily, Lady Hollander was going to adopt him. She's below stairs now, talking to her husband about it. I'm sorry the boy couldn't be saved.

Perhaps a year ago. Who knows? I don't know how to tell her. She lost her own little boy just five years ago. A boy named Peter, wasn't it? Yes. She started to call this one Peter. He didn't seem to know his own name. Maria, I brought Rodney up to see the boy. Oh, Dr. Carruthers, thank you for coming. Lady Hollander. How are you, Carruthers? What's the matter, Doctor? The boy is dead, Lady Hollander. Oh.

You say he's dead? Yes, Rodney. Well, it's a good thing we didn't go ahead with what we were talking about, isn't it? The boy must not have had a decent constitution, eh, Doctor? He wasn't very strong, no. We'd have had all sorts of trouble with him, wouldn't we, if we'd adopted him. We were thinking of it. Probably you would have had, yes. Well, one damned thing after another. That's what it would have been.

Will Emily? Leave her alone, Rodney. Oh, she's all right. Aren't you? I'm all right. Lady Hollander, are you all right? Dr. Carruthers, I'm so sorry we got you over here to no purpose. Won't you stay for supper?

I think it's roast beef tonight. Please stay, Doctor. You could spend the night as well, if you like. Please, Doctor. I'd so like to talk to you. Oh, you're very kind. Then it's all settled. Come, Doctor. I'll show you to your room. I'll get tipson to make it up for you. Well, that's most kind of you, Lady Holland.

She's gone off again. One of her dead spells. Blast. Why should I have to put up with this? Come to the window, Rodney. I want to show you something. What is it? Look down there, among the yew trees. Well, I don't see anything. You don't? It's the outline of a woman. She's holding a small boy by the hand. And now she's leaning over...

And he's whispering something in her ear, and she's nodding her head. Pity you can't see it. It's very clear to me. You'll remember that Lady Emily Hollander had, or believed she had, the ability to make herself seen by whomever she wished during these so-called spells.

Why, then, is her outline so distinct, this time to Maria, while Lord Hollander sees nothing? We shall try to bring you the most cogent answer of which we are capable when we come back with Act Three. The climbing boy is dead. Dead at a very tender age. No more than five.

Dead at almost the very moment when a new life might have dawned for him, under the tender care of Lady Emily Hollander. Dead before he had hardly experienced life at all. Now, let our story be carried forward by the woman who began it, Miss Maria True. Supper that evening was a horror.

Emily sat at the head of the table and conversed in a manner that could only signify that she was having one of her dead spells, as her husband termed them. Most assuredly, she was not the Emily who had been my dear friend for so many years. Dr. Carruthers and I maintained silence for the most part. It wasn't until we had left the table that I could draw him aside.

Dr. Carruthers, could we take a stroll on the veranda? I do need to talk to you. Of course, Miss Drew. After you. Thank you. Dr. Carruthers, I want to assure you that the woman you saw tonight presiding over the dinner table is not Emily, is not Lady Hollander. Not? Oh, it was her body, of course. But she was not in it.

I don't think I'm following you. Her spirit is elsewhere. Yes, I confess. Her attitude when we were forced to tell her the boy had died... was not all that I'd expected. Particularly when you told me she was considering adoption. It seemed very odd. It was very odd, unless... unless you understand and accept... Lady Hollander's ability to... to remove herself from this world...

Remove herself? I don't know any way that can be done until death does it for us. Well, she told me only this morning that it's very like death. It seems close to death, but that it's a very happy thing. It would be pleasant, wouldn't it, to think of death as a happy thing? At least for the one who dies. But Lady Hollander obviously does not.

Die? Only her mind seems to stray away. Not her mind, Doctor. Her soul. Yes, I stand corrected. Oh, I'm so grateful you consented to stay, Dr. Carruthers. I sorely needed someone to talk to. Now, there's one more thing. Yes? After you and Lady Hollander left the room this afternoon, Lord Hollander and I were there alone. And I chanced to be standing by the window and looking out, and I saw...

I hesitate to tell you because you'll think me daft. Not you, Miss Drew. I saw a woman by the yew trees and a small child, a little boy. Oh, yes. What was there about that to perturb you? It's my belief, Doctor, against my best judgment, against my common sense. It is my belief that as soon as Lady Hollander heard of the death of the climbing boy, her spirit, her soul, if you like, withdrew.

withdrew from the room of death and went outside under the yew trees. And there she met, well, who knows? The soul of her son, Peter? Or the soul of the climbing boy? So one way or another, we got through that dreadful evening. Everyone prepared to retire for the night.

I suppose, Lord Hollander, you've made arrangements for the disposal of the body. You mean the climbing, boy? Oh, yes. Yes, Harding came over and took it away just before supper. All taken care of. Though I must say, Harding was put out. He'd had great expectations for that boy. Just the right size and all for chimney sweeping. Still, couldn't be helped, I suppose. I could not fall asleep.

The awful events of the day crowded in on me. The sight of the boy's puny body in the tin tub of water flashed over and over again before my eyes. The words of Dr. Carruthers... Why, this boy's half dead already. ...echoed in my head.

His sad tone. These climbing boys, there's no hope for them. They die of exposure, of bad food, no food, of burns. Most of all, I'd say they die of a wish to die. Small wonder that I could not sleep.

Small wonder that in the wee hours of the morning, I was the first to smell the smoke. It was unmistakable. It was the smell of smoke and not too far away. I sprang from my bed, seized my wrapper and ran to the door of my room. Smoke, thick, acrid smoke was pouring in great, great clouds from one of the rooms. From the room of my host, Lord Rodney Hollander.

I opened my mouth to see her, and all at once I saw, through the whirling smoke, a figure, a woman, leaving Lord Hollander's bedroom, and with a great effort and concentration, she was... Couldn't be so. She was dragging a limp and prostrate body with her. It was Emily. Emily!

At last I found my voice and screamed, Help! Fire! Help! There's a fire! Help! There's a general opening of doors along the corridor. I found a voice. Help! Fire! Fire! Help!

The fire was extinguished in due time. The servants headed by Tipson accomplished it for the most part. Dr. Carruthers and I both admired their fearlessness. Well, there wasn't much but smoke in the room. The actual fire was confined to the chimney. Then Rodney died of the smoke. Yes, suffocation. There was nothing to be done for him. One odd thing, though, deuced odd. What was that, Doctor? I don't know.

His feet were singed. The bottoms of his feet had been burned. What do you make of that? I mean, since the fire never really reached out into the room. Well, I'm sure I can't explain it, Doctor, if you can't.

What about Lady Aggramont? What about her? She'll be all right. She was found in the hall, wasn't she? Just outside her own room. I suppose she was the first to smell the smoke and came out to investigate. But then why didn't she cry out? Didn't she? I didn't hear her. Well, somebody cried out. That's what roused me. Yes, that's true. Someone did. Oh!

I had one more chance to speak with Emily. She was still in one of her so-called dead spells. Yet there were moments when she seemed the same Emily I'd always known. Can't you stay for a bit, Maria? Oh, I must go up to London, Emily. Tend to a few matters. Matters of importance, my dear, otherwise I wouldn't leave you. But the good Dr. Carruthers will stay on for a day or two, and by the time he leaves, I'll be back. Good. Hester and Willie have already left. I know. I'm glad.

Why did you do it, Emily? Do what? I was the first to discover the smoke, you know. That is, the first after you. That's how I happened to see you dragging Hester's body out of Rodney's room. Oh? You saw that? Why did you do it?

Well, it wouldn't have been proper, now would it? For people to find out that Hester had shared Rodney's bed. No, Rodney would have hated that. But even so, why didn't you cry out as soon as you saw the smoke? No matter where it was coming from. Very well, where it was coming from. Before I saw it. Even before I smelled it. But how could you? How could you have known? I was waiting for it. Whatever do you mean? I'd been told.

Told what? Told that there would be a fire in that particular chimney at precisely 3.15 in the morning. Well, who could have told you? Why, the climbing boy, Maria. He told me.

And then I remembered standing in the room where the boy lay dead. I heard Rodney's voice as I'd heard it then. Damn, why should I have to put up with this, Maria? Why should I? Come to the window, Rodney. I want you to see something. What is it? Look down there. Among the yew trees. Well, I don't see anything. It's the outline of a woman. She's holding a small boy by the hand.

Now she's leaning over, and he's whispering something in her ear, and she's nodding her head. Was that when the climbing boy had told Emily that there would be a fire in Rodney's chimney at 3.15 in the morning? I would have plenty to ponder on my journey up to London. Emily herself put me in the carriage, which would take me to the stagecoach. Goodbye, my dear. I'll see you in a few days. Yes.

That will be good. And then we must make plans. Plans for your future. Oh, yes. Plans. You won't want to stay here. I don't know. Perhaps you'll try London for a while. You can stay with me. I have room. We'll talk about it. Goodbye, my dear. Goodbye, Maria.

Come back soon. Well, I thought to myself, I've accomplished something for my friend. Now I thought as we drove past the broad verandas, if only I can get her interested in the reform movement, there's hope for her. But then, as the carriage picked up speed, we passed the rose garden and came to the clump of yew trees.

And there, I saw her. I saw Emily. Well, rather, I saw the outline of Emily. I called to the coachman to stop. Yes. One could say the figure was made of vapor or steam. And yet its dimensions and form were very clear. And down its back hung long, dark hair, almost to its knees. I stared.

and stared until the horses grew impatient. For I saw something else. I saw a tiny figure of a boy, and then the figure of another boy. There were two of them, and both were running fast, fast. And she held out her arms, and they both ran into them. And she held them close, and she laughed, and they laughed.

Then, as I stared, the strangest thing of all occurred. The two boys that she was holding in her arms looked at each other, both still laughing, and even as I stared...

They became one boy. And he was laughing. And Emily was laughing. And holding him and rocking him in her arms. And they laughed together for the sheer joy of being together. And I knew that in all probability, Emily would never come up to London. THE END

A sad story, was it not? A boy dead. A man, too. A woman not quite right. Well, not quite right mentally. A very sad story, really. Yet, ending in laughter. How can that be? We don't know. But this we wish for you, dear faithful listener. That whatever the sadnesses that enter your life,

you will find somewhere, in some manner, the lightning, the leavening sound of laughter. I'll be back shortly. ♪♪

Our story of the climbing boy took place, as we have neglected to tell you, in the year of our Lord, 1819. In another country than ours. At a time when men laughed in Parliament at the fact that little boys were sent up chimneys. It is another time now and another place. Things are different now, here. But are they? If you think so, you haven't been paying attention.

Our cast included Marion Seldes, E.V. Juster, Cork Benson, and Ian Martin. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. He's in jail. Jail? Why? What for? I suppose for smuggling.

Smuggling? That's impossible. It has to be a mistake. Oh, I'm sure of it. We have to get hold of Arthur Kremen. I already did. Or doesn't he practice that kind of law? He'll get someone else if he can't handle it. Handle what? All I know is Ted called me and they allowed them one phone call. Please, Bert, get to it. He said, Bert, I'm being accused of smuggling. Call Arthur and then tell Myra.

But what is he accused of smuggling? Heroin or cocaine. I'm not sure. They found it in his attache case. But it's all a mistake. A terrible mistake. Or else it's a joke. A very bad joke. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre.

Until next time, pleasant dreams.

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We think of the pioneers and trailblazers of the Old West as rugged and realistic men who would be not in the least concerned with such things as the meaning of visions and dreams. But out of California, during the colorful days when the wild scramble for gold was on, comes an authentic story of one such pioneer who was apparently unlike the rest. His name was Captain George Yount, and he was a man who believed in dreams.

It was in November of the year 1852 that Captain Yount accompanied old Henry Horn on a hunting trip. They sat one morning around the campfire that blazed outside their tent. What's on your mind, George? Oh, I wish I knew, Henry. Just a kind of feeling. Your bones are telling you there's snow in there. Well, he was going to be up there in the mountains tonight. Might be something to worry about, but down here... Henry, wait a minute. Snow and mountains, that's it. I dreamed about snow and mountains last night.

It's coming back to me now, Henry. They were trapped up there in the Little Mel Pass. They were snowbound. A party of immigrants. There was eight of them. No, nine. Nine, including the young lad. Just a boy he was, and he was crying. I saw the pass as clear as I'd ever seen anything. And Captain Yount did proceed to describe the mountain pass, just as he had seen it in his dream.

You darn fool, George. Oh, you darn fool. No wonder you seen that pass so clear. It's the Carson Valley Pass. You didn't make it up in your dream. You just remembered it, that's all. I wouldn't know, Henry. You see, I've never been there. Captain Yount's hunting luck was bad that day. His mind seemed to be on something other than hunting.

And toward evening, as the two men made their way back to camp... Henry, I'm heading back for town tonight. Organize a rescue party. Well, who in tarnation you gonna rescue? Nine emigrants snowbound up in Carson Valley Pass. George, how do you lost your mind or something? That was a dream you had. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe not. The captain and a small band of well-paid adventurers set out on horseback for the mountains...

For three days they rode without seeing the slightest trace of the emigrant party. But as they approached Carson Valley Pass, the captain's mouth fell open in amazement. The snow piled at the treetops, the very path beneath his horse's feet, all were just as he had dreamed. And so the captain was scarcely surprised to find, on the morning of the fourth day, a boy of sixteen standing guard at the mouth of the pass.

That's him. That's the lad I saw crying in the snow. But there were no tears in the boy's eyes now. Only joy and relief and unspeakable gratitude. As Captain Yount leaned over him, the boy murmured through frozen lips. The rest of them are back there in the past. There are just six, including myself. Well, now that's strange. I could have sworn there were nine. There were a few days ago, sir. But...

Three of the men have died. And so Captain Yount's dream was realized to the last detail. To those who are skeptical, one can only cite the words of Horace Bushnell, the foremost religious scholar and theologian of the last century, who said, You need have no doubt of this story. We in California know the facts, and facts they remain. Facts which have never been satisfactorily explained. Facts.

Incredible but true. The sun shining, birds are singing and all feels right in the world.

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Insured by NCUA. Leptin Tea and Leptin Soup presents Inner Sanctum Mysteries starring Wendy Berry. Good evening, friends of the Inner Sanctum. This is your host, Raymond, inviting you through the squeaking door for a grisly little party. Well, now for our weekly news summary of events from the other world. Slash.

The Galloping Ghosts defeated the Marauding Murderers in the opening game of the Ectoplasmic Baseball League last week. An invisible crowd of 20,000 saw the contest. Flash! The Slimy Spooks Union is considering a strike to charge people for overtime when they scare them during the day. And, uh, oh, yes.

A fake medium was arrested for saying he could get in touch with humans. Well, that's very funny, Mr. Raymond. Now, that's what I like, when you say amusing things instead of scary ones. Oh, thank you very much. Well, they have a very amusing time in the other world. The other day, they held a masquerade ball and everyone came disguised...

As people. Well, that's very interesting. Did they serve refreshments? Oh, yes, they served Lipton tea. Everybody loved it. Why, to count all the cups of tea they drank, you'd have to be a teetotaler. Well, then the other world must be pretty much like this one. Because folks here feel the same way about Lipton tea. Why, more people drink Lipton's than any other brand. And they don't just serve it at mealtimes either. Yes, sir, Lipton's is an around-the-clock drink.

It helps lots of housewives through their work day, and it's a grand beverage to serve your friends when they drop in of an evening. And of course, there's one big reason why Lipton tea is so popular. It's because of that famous brisk flavor. That word brisk means that Lipton's always tastes tangy and full-bodied. It's never flat or wishy-washy.

Yes, folks, you just don't know how good tea can be till you've tried Lipton's. Now, friends, while you're trying things, try on this rope for a side. Oh, didn't I tell you we're going to hang a very attractive lady tonight? Our story is called The Girl and the Gallop. It all adds up. It's an original radio play by Milton Lewis, and our star is that glamorous motion picture actress, Wendy Berry, who played the role of Karen.

All right, friends. On a nice spring evening like this, a few chills running up and down your spine are just what you need. So get yourself a sweet companion, turn the lights down low, put your arm around her. Oh, brother, sit back and get ready to have the wits scared out of you. Let's go. The door was open, and I walked into the strangest apartment I'd ever seen.

A sweet, sickening odor overwhelmed me as I looked around. It was a rare incense burning in a hollow skull that stood on the mantelpiece. I looked closely. The skull was human. I felt someone's eyes on me, staring, watching every move I made. Good evening. You're Karen Marlowe, aren't you? How did you know? I'm Laura Mason.

Father's told me so much about you. I had to come and see you. May I call you Laura? Of course. I thought it'd be best if we met like this by ourselves. When you marry father, you're going to be my mother. I never had a mother. She died when I was born. Yes, Dennis told me. I can see now why father's so much in love with you. I can grow to love you too. What has your father told you about me? That you were quite an extraordinary woman...

Can you... can you really foretell the future? Why did you come here? I told you. You're gonna be my mother. That's not the reason. I don't understand. Sit down, Karen. Before you leave here, you will understand. And you'll believe everything your father told you about me. She sat next to me, held my hand. Hers felt like ice. Suddenly her body shook and quivered as though she'd been seized by some terrifying unseen demon.

Her eyes had little dancing flames. Then they were gone. They became hollow, endless, like two round black holes of infinite space. She was in a trance. Her hand held mine like a vine. There's not going to be any wedding. What are you saying? I see a coffin. A coffin? There's a man in it. Dennis, your father. You don't know what you're saying. On the floor of your home, a dagger in his throat, his head in a pool of blood. Stop it. Murder. Stop it.

You struck me. I had to wake you out of that horrible trance. How can you say such awful things? They're true. They can't be. But they are. I still remember the last vision I saw. It should interest you very much. I don't want to hear about it. You were in it. I? How? There was a figure hanging from a gallows. It was you. You hate me, don't you? You want to see me dead.

That's why you're telling me to learn. I'm not afraid of you. You're rotten and evil and lonesome. And I hate you. I hate you. I could kill you. What's wrong, sister? Father. You, uh, you carrying Marlon? Just as she said. The dagger in his throat. Murdered. Oh, Father. Don't look at him again. But he's been murdered. Yeah, I know it. Here, drink this. Shut up and drink it.

Thanks. Who are you? Rulock. Homicide. The police? Yeah. We got a tip. But how? Someone called in. This is awful. Yeah. It's tough on a kid like you. Feel well enough to talk? Yes. Okay. When did you see him last? Tonight. At seven. Here. Then where'd you go? To see a woman named Laura Mason. Laura Mason. Was she home? No. No?

She arrived a minute after I got there. She predicted this. What? She said this would happen when I saw her. Uh, did you know what was in your father's will? No. No, he never told me. He left all his dough to you and Laura Mason. If either one of you dies, the other gets it. How'd you find out? We get around. 7.30, your neighbor heard him scream. 7.15, a dark-haired woman in a red coat was brought up here by the elevator boy. She was very attractive. Do you know anyone like that? Yes. Laura Mason. You sure? Yes. Uh...

Who made that head of your father? Oh, a sculptor in Paris, many years ago. Because your father mentioned it in his will. How? Well, he said that under no circumstances must it go to you. It was to go to Laura Mason or be destroyed. What made him do a thing like that? I don't know. Father was a strange and brilliant man. She killed him. I know she did. Who? Laura Mason. You know she did it too. Now, take it easy. Feel well enough to go out?

Yes. Okay. Take me to Laura Mason. Yes? I'm Lou Locke. Homicide. Lou Mason? Yeah. Where's Laura Mason? Laura Mason? Don't play dumb. Well, I never heard of her. Ever seen this lady before, Miss Moreau? No, and I... I've never seen this apartment before either. Did you make a mistake? No. Now, this is the building. This is where the apartment is, but I...

I don't understand it. Neither do I. I told you how strange it was. Yeah. The skull on the mantelpiece, I don't see it. But it was here. Only a few hours ago. What's your name? Maxine Maynor. How long have you lived in here? Five years. You must have made a mistake, Miss Marlowe. I didn't. I know it sounds crazy, but you don't believe me, do you? You don't believe a word I told you. Let's go back to your place. The boys must have finished up by now.

You'll be okay here tonight, Miss Marlowe. Are you leaving? Yeah, I gotta get back to headquarters. You still don't believe me. Look, you're a young kid, a nice kid. You never saw a man who was murdered before. It can blow you over. You think I imagined it all. Well, it's happened before. I bet you'll be all right now. Good night. Don't go. Please don't go. I've got to. I'm frightened. I don't want to be here alone. There's a cop in the corridor. If you want him, call. I don't want to be in this apartment by myself. I've hardly ever been without my father. Don't go.

Please. Easy, kid. I'll come back if I can. Was I losing my mind? Did I imagine the strange interview with Laura Mason? I was alone in the apartment where my father was murdered. I was too frightened to think. Suddenly the door buzzer sounded. I rushed to open it. No one was there. I sat down. Was this something I imagined too? The phone rang. I picked up the receiver. Hello? Hello? No one answered. I was so scared.

Was it all imagination? Had something happened to me? I went to the window, opened it. I heard the traffic far down in the street. Jump? Why not? Father was dead. My life was a nightmare. I couldn't go on like this. Yes, jump. It'd be all over. The torture, the fear, the madness, all gone.

I leaned over the ledge. One move and it'd be all over. I would jump. Come back here. Let me go. Let me go. No, you don't. I don't understand. Never mind what I don't understand. It just left you. I came back. I mean, better if you hadn't. Something's happened to me. I see things that never existed. I hear bells, the phone, the door buzzer. And all the time I feel that woman's eyes on me. Watching me. Cut it out. Why didn't you let me jump? I'd no good to anyone this way. Why did you come back? Because I...

Come here. Don't. Let go of me. Shut up. You kissed me. Yeah. That's why I came back. You... Let's not talk about it now. Oh, but why? Because you're beautiful. I wanted to do that ever since I saw you. You still want to jump now? Okay. I'm going to take you to a good doctor. You think there's something the matter with me? We'll let him decide. But I did see that woman, just like I told you. We've been checking. We can't find any trace of a Laura Mason. Oh!

Why'd you jump like that? The door buzzer. You did hear it ring, didn't you? That was the door buzzer. Sure, sure, I heard it. Oh, thank heaven someone else heard it. I'll open the door. What's the matter, Karen? Oh, it's her standing in the doorway. It's Laura Mason. Good evening, Karen. Nice square monkey business, huh?

Say, I wonder what happened to that apartment with the burning skull on the fireplace. Oh, that'd make a cozy little place for a vampire. She could invite her friends up and have a few drinks. Now, Mr. Raymond, I just can't stand the thought of vampires. Oh, tell the truth. I feel the same way, Mary. I always say that I could kill a vampire and it wouldn't bother my conscience at all. After all, I wouldn't be spilling her blood.

It'd be somebody else's. Now, please, please. There are no such things as vampires. So let's talk about something else. Something sensible. Heaven forbid. Well, then you just be quiet because I'm going to give some sensible advice. I'm going to remind all the folks who drink Lipton tea that it's wise to buy the larger, more economical size packages. Oh, yes, it's thriftier, but that isn't the only reason.

I mean, Lipton tea is the perfect drink for so many occasions that unless you keep a good supply on hand, you may be caught short just when you need it.

Such as when friends pay a surprise visit to your house. So, when you buy Lipton tea, the tea with the brisk flavor, be sure to get it in the larger size packages. Oh, sure, and there's still a large package of murder ahead tonight, so let's get back to our star, Wendy Berry. I'd say, where were we? Oh, of course, Karen was trying to make up her mind if she was going bats when suddenly the door opened and in walked Laura Mason.

I'm Detective Lou Lott, homicide. You'd better sit down, Miss Mason. Thank you. Karen, will you please fix me a drink? Yes, but you've got to tell him what happened this evening. He doesn't believe me. Fix her the drink, Karen. I'll do the talking. All right. I, um, suppose you've been wondering about me, Mr. Lott? Yeah. Did, uh, did you know about his will? I did. I, um, suppose you've gathered quite a bit of evidence against me. We've got enough. Did you kill him?

Do you have my drink, Karen? Yes, here. Thank you. No, I didn't kill him, Mr. Love. Well, let the jury decide then. Would you care to know who did murder it? I have a certain curiosity. She did. Karen? Yes. You don't know what you're saying. Why don't you tell him, Karen? Why don't you confess? But I have nothing to confess.

I didn't kill my father. Lou, you don't believe her, do you? You know she's lying. I listen to everybody. That's my business. Are you going to confess, Karen? What are you trying to do to me? You know I didn't kill him. You know because you killed him yourself. Miss Mason, I understand you saw the body of Dennis Marlowe in the vision. Yes. The vision came after the murder. After you were known to come to this apartment earlier this evening. She killed him. That's why she could see these things in her vision. What have you got to say to that, Miss Mason? I see I'll have to convince you too, Mr. Locke.

You don't believe in these powers of mine? No. You will. Let me hold your hand. She held his hand just as she held mine. That same strange shudder went through her body. Her eyes again became the round black wells of infinite space. In a moment, you'll be looking at the body of a woman, Mr. Locke. She's lying on the floor of this apartment. She's dead. Yeah.

Who is she? I can't see her face yet. Wait. I'm beginning to see it now. What's the matter? This drink has been poisoned. What are you talking about? Karen poisoned my drink. The body lying on the floor is me. She's burned. No, it's a lie. It's some trick. You won't win, Karen. My body will disappear. It's not like yours. Not like any of you.

You won't be able to arrest me. What happened to her? What's the matter? Just a minute. She's dead. Dead? Murdered. She's been poisoned. Poisoned? That's right. Look at her eyes. But I didn't do it. You saw me pour the drink. I wasn't watching it. But you can't believe that. I didn't say you killed her. But that's what you're thinking. What I'm thinking now isn't worth a button. Give me that shoe all on the piano. Here. I want to cover her. You don't really believe that. Listen, you stay here. I'm going into the next room to phone headquarters. I'll be back in a minute.

I looked at the show covering the twisted heap on the floor. What kind of a woman was she? Why had she lied? As though hypnotized, I walked over to her, picked up the shawl. She was beautiful, even more beautiful in death than in life. Then out of space, just as I'd felt it before, I felt her eyes on me. They were closed, yet I knew she was watching me, staring at me, looking at every move I made.

Suddenly I heard myself screaming out. You can't see me. You can't, you can't, you can't see me. I couldn't bear it another moment. A room terrified and hysterical. She's watching me. Karen. Karen, get a grip on yourself. I tell you, I feel her. Karen. You must believe me. Now look, you'll be okay. I finished my call. I want you to come back inside. No, I can't. You've got to. Look, if you'll only realize that there's nothing to be afraid of, you'll be all right.

Come on. I'll go. I'll go if you tell me you don't believe what she said. I don't believe it for a minute. She put that poison in the drink herself. She knew the game was up, but she just wanted to make trouble for you. The whole thing was an act. Here's the... Lou, the show's on the floor, but Laura Mason... Laura Mason has disappeared. I was alone. Lou had gone back to headquarters. When he left, I could see she had him under a spell. He, too, was...

Puzzled and confused. Just as before, the door buzzer rang. No one was there. The telephone rang. I picked it up. Hello? No one. I was being beaten. I knew it. You can fight evil when it's human. But what can you do when it's not human? She wanted me to die on the gallows. Somehow I knew I would. She was too powerful for me. How could I stop her? Good evening, Karen. I looked up.

Saw her. Another hallucination. I said good evening, Karen. What do you want? I want you to confess to the murder of your father. That's what you wanted all along, isn't it? That's how you want me to go to the gallows, isn't it? Yes. Call the police, Karen. Tell them how you murdered him. No. Why suffer any longer? You know you'll do it in the end. No! I have patience. I'll wait.

Just let me take something out of my purse.

A knife? Yes, Karen. Dennis died by being stabbed in the throat. Perhaps you'd like to know how that feels. You... You wouldn't dare. I'd dare anything, Karen. Don't you come near me! You know you've got to die, Karen. Go away! Go away! No, Karen. I have a weapon, too. In this drawer. Oh, a gun. A gun.

You think that'll have any effect on me? You tried to poison me once. It didn't work. I'm warning you. Go away. Get out of here. Go. I'll shoot. Put that gun down. No. I'm going to kill you. You see, Carol? It had no, no effect. Bleeding. You are human. You won't disappear again. Not this time. And I won't see you again. Ever.

Karen. I killed her. She wanted to murder me. Look, she still has a knife in her hand. I killed her. She confessed that she murdered my father. She wanted to murder me too so she could have all the money. Is that right? Yes. I had a chance to do some checking up, Karen. We trailed that woman we found in the apartment you took me to. Oh, then I wasn't wrong about the apartment. No. We questioned the old lady and she confessed. The apartment was a trick one she used to hold seances in.

It could be changed, like a stage set. They rigged up wires in this apartment so they could make the buzzer in the phone ring and make you think you were going out of your mind. They wanted me to confess to murdering my father. That's right. It's all over now, Lou. No, it isn't. She wanted you to confess because she knew we'd stacked up a lot of evidence against her. But I asked why she should pick on you. The answer was obvious. Because you killed him. What? You heard me. You killed him.

You waited till she saw your father and left. Then you murdered him, slipped out of the house by the servant's entrance. She came back and saw what you had done. You don't believe that. You can't. It's true. But why should I do it? The money you'd inherit is a good enough motive. Then there may have been a... Oh, nonsense. I've always had all the money I needed. But would you get it after your father married Laura Mason? That piece of sculpture interests me. Why should he say you wanted to get this? Don't you touch it. You'll break it. No, I won't.

You broke it. You deliberately broke it. He's dead now, and that's all I have to remind him of what he looked like. I could kill you for this. I could kill you. Like you killed him because he wanted to marry Laura Mason? Yes. That's enough, Karen.

That's all I wanted to hear. Lou, Lou, listen to me. I must have been out of my mind when I did it. Father was all I had. I couldn't lose him. But now that he's dead, I don't feel that way anymore. Is that right, baby? It happened when you kissed me. Did it? You can forget what I told you. Everyone will believe she killed him. I have money, lots of money. I can make you very happy. It's going to break my heart, baby, but you're going to die. You've told me enough to send you to the gallows.

Come on, Karen. I pleaded temporary insanity. It failed. This is the last night. That noise. The gallows. They're testing it. Laura Mason was a strange woman. All I can think of now is what she told me. It seems so long ago. There was a figure hanging from the gallows. It was you. No!

Yes, sir, that kills two of the prettiest girls we've ever had in the inner sanctum. Karen should have pleaded guilty to having killed her father and asked for clemency in the grounds that she was an orphan. What a terrible crime that was. Yes, ma'am, and she seemed like such a polite young girl, the kind of girl who goes to finishing school and learns how to...

Pour tea. Now, see here, Mr. Raymond, you don't have to go to school to learn how to pour tea. No? And as far as enjoying tea is concerned, you only have to know one word. Yeah? Lipton. Yes, Lipton tea has a special full-bodied taste. It always tastes fresh and tangy and bracing. Never flat or insipid.

Tea experts sum it all up by saying that Lipton tea has a brisk flavor. So, folks, try Lipton's and see what a big difference that brisk flavor makes. A word of advice, naturally. If you wake up in the morning and feel like stretching, then go hang yourself, bud.

By the way, this month's Intersancta Mystery Novel is The Lucky Stiff by Craig Rice. Oh, yes, and next week's Intersancta Mystery Story directed by Hyman Brown and brought to you by Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup. Next week's story will be about a pair of young lovers who don't think two can live as cheaply as one. So they murder a rich old man. Oh, isn't that ducky?

I wouldn't be surprised if she sits on his lap in the electric chair. Oh, well, now it's really time to close that there squeaking door until next Tuesday. So, until then, good night. Pleasant dreams.

Folks, these busy days, we all want to save time when we prepare meals, and yet we don't want to sacrifice that good homemade taste. Well, that's just the time to serve Lipton's Noodle Soup. Lipton's is quick and easy to prepare because it comes in an envelope. You just empty the contents into boiling water, and in no time at all, soup's on!

And Lipton's has a real homemade, chickeny flavor. It tastes just like the chicken noodle soup you'd make right in your own kitchen. It's economical, too. Lipton's costs less and makes more than canned soups. So don't forget Lipton's Noodle Soup. And don't forget to tune in next Tuesday night for another Inner Sanctum Mystery. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.

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Insured by NCUA. Every door has a key. There's a key to every situation. Behind every unopened door, there is a mystery. And the opening of this door introduces us to another in the series...

The King. Anyone home? Oh, no. Hello there. Hey, Craig. Oh, the awkward times. Hey. Oh, it's that anyway. Hey, what are you doing down in the cellar? Oh, hello, Hampton. Didn't hear you. Didn't hear me? Boy, I yell loud enough to wake up the dead. What's going on down here anyway? A little leveling off.

What for? Why would people level up? Because the surface was unlevel. Oh, you're kidding. What do you mean? Trouble with you is a short memory. I'm the guy who helped put this cellar down. Remember?

Oh, yes, Andy. Yes, yes, I remember. And I also remember saying when we finished putting the cellar down, you could make a putting green down here. It was so level. Well, it suddenly unleveled itself. I don't know. It seems funny, that's all. Well, go on, Mr. Drummond. Can't say how. Solid rock three feet down.

Rock don't drop. Look, Ham, does it really matter? I don't suppose so. Let's go up and have a drink. Sure. Funny thing. What? The level had dropped down there. It would have dropped all over. Not just one little square. You want that drink or don't you? Sure, sure, I do. Oh, it's hot. Gee, it doesn't get much hotter. Was there anything important? I said...

You came to see me, remember? Oh, that. No, no, it's not important. Still, depends which way you look at it, I suppose. Do tell. Came to see if you wanted to go swimming. Some people would say that was very important on a hot day like this. Here's your cooler. Thanks. Cheers. Yeah, that's better. Where'd you get the earth? The what? The leveling job. Didn't need any. Took some from the corners. Mm-hmm.

You want that swim? No, I don't think so. I've got a lot to do. Oh, it's awful hot. Picked a bad day for digging a hole. I didn't dig a hole. I filled a hole. Made a nice, neat job of it. More? Wouldn't say no. How's Sally? Fine. Just fine. Uh, don't see her about. Uh, she in town? No. Gone for a swim? No.

You're a noisy character, Ham. I know. It's my training. I've been a forest ranger so long, I just can't help minding other people's business. Get you into trouble one day. There's nothing sure. Probably do it because my own business is so dull. How's the family? Swell. Kids as mean as ever, Millie getting fatter by the pound. When are you and Sally going to start in on a family? Hey! Millie was asking. I thought I'd better find out. You know what women are, huh? Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah, I know what they are. Has she gone for a swim? Oh. Sally. No, no, she's out of town for the weekend. Mm-hmm. Oh, by the way, I still owe her that tonsil job you did on Billy. Now, well, I'll sue, so don't worry. I'm not worried. Notice the car outside. Sally walk in the town? No, she, um, she picked up a lift. Who from? Well, I don't know. I was going to drive her to the station, but she said she'd arranged a lift. Relatives. What? Is she visiting relatives? Yes.

I'll fill that up again. Hmm. Yes, uh, Cousin or something in Granbrook. Granbrook? Oh, I know Granbrook pretty well. Millie's folks come from that way. Hey, I know. Save Sal riding the train back. I'll ring my brother-in-law to pick her up. He's visiting tomorrow night. No, I wouldn't bother. It's not... Oh, it's no trouble. What street's this Cousin of hers on? I... I can't remember. Well, think, man. Oh.

Gibson... Ibsen... Ibbins. Yeah, that's it, that's it. Ibbins Avenue. Oh, that makes it real easy. My brother-in-law lives in Ibbins. Give me the address and I'll ring him. I wouldn't know the address, Ham. Oh. Sure you wouldn't like that swim? Yeah, I'll pass it. Folks around here are pretty proud of you, Craig.

I'm all embarrassed. Oh, no, no, no. That's right. You're not in the life of the district. Oh, they were a bit uppity at first. Young city fella taking over old Doc Anders' practice. You know, they thought you'd bring long words and big bills with you. But they turned out wrong. Yes, sir, dead wrong. I'm pretty proud of this town, too, if it comes to that. They've been good to me. Helped me pay for this house. I even helped build it, if you remember. That's how come I'm so sure about the cellar being a good'un.

Can't figure how it could ever fall. Isn't this a bad fire day? Oh, I should say so. Had to get fresh help from headquarters. I'll be on duty myself this afternoon. You and Sal get on all right, Craig? Sure we do. We're married, aren't we? There's plenty of married folk don't get on together too well. Don't you worry about it. We do. Don't see you in any of the local dances. Doctors are pretty busy, you know. And the doctor's wife? What's in that remark? Oh, nothing, nothing.

Just that Sally seems to get out pretty often. Well, you know how it is. She's a dear younger than I am. She likes to dance. Yeah, sure. I look like an old draft horse on the dance floor. A doctor has to be dignified. You ain't so old. What'll it be, 35? You know as well as I do that I'm 41. Sally'll be about 23. Good catch there, Craig. Real pretty gal. I think so.

I figure a wife would be a real asset to a doctor. A good wife, that is. That's just what Sally is. Of course, she can't cook too well, but there's more to marriage than a three-course dinner. Oh, there sure is, sure is. Look at Millie. She can cook to beat the band. Trouble is, the only time she'll shut up is when she's eating her own cooking.

That way I have to have her thin, miserable, and talking all day, or fat and happy and quiet. She's the only one you could find who'd put up with me. I'll go along with that. Yes, one thing I'll say for Sal, she's always a real nice dresser. She likes nice things. Must cost you a penny or two to keep up. She makes a lot of her own. The trouble is, around a town like this, there aren't many places to show pretty dress. That's true. See, Sally forgot her handbag.

Did she? Yeah, there. It was right there on the table. Well, that was silly of her. Now she'll have no money. Oh, she won't need any if she's got a lift to her, folks. She can borrow some to come back. When did you say she'll be back? What? Tomorrow night. Oh, yes, yes. Tomorrow night. Yeah, I'm to ring my brother-in-law and get him to pick her up. Heck, she won't need any money. You'd better think of that address. Yes, yes, yes, I will. Millie's having a pie for dinner Monday. How about you two join us? Well, I don't know that we'll be able to, Hap. We'll try. All right.

Very particular about her clothes. That's one thing I'll always hand to Sal. Funny. Funny she should leave her hat behind, too. What? It's right there behind her handbag. Hot day like this, she's likely to get a touch of the sun. Was it an open car she was getting a lift in? I don't know. Who did you say it was with? I didn't say it because I don't know. Oh, yes, that's right. Of course, I keep forgetting. Look, aren't you going for that swim? Yes, better go, I suppose. Got to think of something to cool me down.

You know, this is the kind of day a person could get killed. Yes, I suppose it is. Yeah, man, could have a body on his hands any time on a day like this. All you need to be a weak ticker or a touch of high blood and bang, you're dead. Now, you're talking like a doctor. Don't you worry, Craig. I've seen more than one dead in my time.

Yes, sir. I remember one time over in Judson Valley come across a feller been buried. Could I have another drink, please, Craig? Yeah, sure. Help yourself. It's mighty hot. What's the matter, doctor, son? Got yet? No. You're looking a little pale. Shouldn't have dug that hole in the cellar on a day like this. It's 110 in the shade if it's an inch. It only took me five minutes. It's not a very big hole, is it? What?

Got a story, huh? A story? Oh, yes, yes. Well, as it was saying, I come across this fellow. He'd been buried for nine a week. Who buried him? Oh, no one. No one? He'd been silly enough to walk under some rocks just as they decided to come loose from the side of a hill. You know, if I wanted to get rid of a body, that's what I'd do. What? Make a nice rock slide, good big one, and duck the corpse under just where she was going to fall. Oh?

That way, there's an awful lot of mother earth between the body and anyone who might be snooping around. Thanks for the tip. If I ever want to dispose of a body, I'll take your advice. Of course, there are other ways, I suppose. You thought of that address yet? No, I'm not yet. Oh, it'll come to you. Don't worry. I get like that myself sometimes. Can't think of the simplest things, you know. Especially if I'm, am I worried about anything? I'm not worried about anything. I just thought you might be. No, no. You know, Craig, I was pretty pleased when you and Sally teamed up.

So was I, for that matter. There's a lot of fellas we're after, Sally, you know. Yes, sir. She's about the best-looking gal in the district. Yeah, I bet no one thought she'd marry an old fogey like me. Well, there were a lot of different opinions going around. Lots that didn't think Sally would settle down to be in a country doctor's wedding. I...

Well, I admit I was a little worried about that myself. But everything turned out fine. Well, you ought to know. Sure, sure, I ought to know. Well, we've been married four years and there's been no trouble so far. Yeah, he puts all the busybodies' noses out of joint a bit. I deserve it. Yes, you sure do. I'm of real firm opinion that a man never knows what's going to happen. You know everything, everyone thinks that you and Sal won't last Christmas. What happens?

You go along four years, and everything's hunky-dory. All you need now is a family, and you'll be real settled. Now, let them wait. Sal wants to have a little fun before she really settles down. Yes, I suppose that's one thing a doctor's wife misses out on a little. I mean, you've been so busy all the time and working such long hours. Did it take last week? You were away three days, wasn't it, on that accident up at the dam? Three days. Hmm. But Sal was pleased to see you when you got back. Yes, she was. Very pleased.

Well, I guess I better be getting along. You sure you don't want that swim? Sorry. You know, it's a wonder to me you never built that cellar door inside the house. I mean, having it out there, most anyone could break in. There's nothing down there worth stealing. Still, I'd put a lock on the door if I was you. You know, I always figure a man's private business is his own private business. With a cellar door stuck right out there in the open, it's an invite for anyone to take a look down. Yeah. Yeah.

I'd put a knock on it if I was you. Come in. Hi there, George. All right. Take a seat. Hot? Doesn't get much hotter. I thought you'd be out putting holes on some fires by this. Yeah, should be. I got something gnawing at my mind. Illegal something? Yeah, that's about it.

Well, if you reach into that icebox, you'll find some cold cider. It might help. You can talk while you pour, you know. I know. George, you know if Sally Meldrum's got any relatives in Grand Brook? Sally Meldrum? No, I don't think she has. No cousin? Might, but I don't think so. Sally had an uncle there one time, but he died about ten years ago. No, she hasn't got any one name. Why? I was wondering. One of these days, Hampus...

minding other folks' business is gonna get you in a lot of trouble. So I've been told. Here's your drink. George, you figure Craig and Sally are getting on all right? As far as I can see. Of course, he's a deal younger than he is, but I think they're all right. Mm-hmm.

She was a bit flighty before they were married. She was that. Still, you can't blame a girl for having a little fun, especially one as pretty as Sally. Lots of stories about Sally. And how a pretty girl in a small town who didn't get the treatment from the town gossips. Yeah, I guess so.

I'm wondering whether Craig ever got to hear any of them stories. Why? Oh, well, he's a quiet sort of cuss. Don't go to dance as much. He's pretty much for homebody. Will you quit running around in circles and come to the point it's too hot for brain work? Well, George, a lot of folk in this town said Sally had never settled down when she married Craig. Said she was a bad lot. Now, I'm not saying yes or no about the story.

Frankly, I've always found Sal to be a nice girl. She was pretty for her own good, but a nice girl. Why don't you go home and leave me to sweat in peace? But look, just supposing these stories was true, just supposing Sal kind of kicked over a little after she and Craig was married, that'd make Craig a little mad, wouldn't it? I expect so. When a man gets mad, that's why I reel that, I mean. There's no telling what he might do, is there?

All right, you've made your point. And if a man found things out about his wife, he'd most likely up and hit her or... Look, husbands have been known to beat their wives, and some of them deserve it. George, you being the law around here, how would you feel if a friend of yours, a man who'd done you an awful lot of favors, and a fellow who'd done the town real proud... Will you get to the point, Amp? It's hot. Yeah, well, all right, but how would you feel if this friend of yours had...

Well, say, hit his wife under those same circumstances, mind you. And, you know, hit her a mite too hard. You mean the shoulder? Yes. Yeah, that's what I mean.

I'd have to arrest him, of course, provided there was enough evidence to say he'd killed her. Witnesses in the light. Witnesses in the body. Most times there has to be a body. But if I thought this fellow had killed his wife and there was the evidence to support it, I'd arrest him no matter if he was my own brother. Now, does that satisfy you? That's the answer I expected, but it don't satisfy me. Yeah, well, I can't do any better.

Now, look, will you get back out of here and let me melt away all by myself, huh? You're taking up too much air. Sure. See you later, George. Hey, don't work too hard. That guy gets some of the craziest notions I've ever heard.

What's the matter? Forget something? Yeah, I remember something. I'll have a cool drink if you don't mind. I didn't get that address off you. What address? Where Sally's staying. I told you I can't remember. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Silly of me. I could have saved myself the trip out here. There's always the phone, you know. Yeah, that's an idea, you know.

Why don't you phone up the exchange at Grand Book? They're bound to know where Saddle's cousin lives. They know everything for you, busybody. It doesn't matter. Won't take a minute? No. Look, Craig, you can bust me in the nose for this if you want to, but are you sure everything's okay between you and Saddle? Of course I'm sure. Why shouldn't it be? Well, I thought you might have heard some of them stories that was going on about Saddle. What kind of stories? Oh, you know. No, I don't know. Tell me. Most of them ain't true, you know. Tell me just the same. No, they are. I've only got a grain of truth in them. You tell me and I'll be the judge.

Look, Craig, any pretty gal in the town gets the same thing said about her. Does she? Yeah, of course she does. Look, you take the time she and Billy O'Brien get lost over the Bullneck Pass. Gone two days there was, Billy told a rare tale. And he was always a liar. Even if some of them was true. Well, Sal's an awful pretty gal and she's young. Yes, she is. Now, get on with your story. Well, it's no story, Craig.

Look, I know a man can lose his temper sometimes. I think I'm losing money now. Don't take on, don't take on. What can you expect if you leave her alone so much of the time? Women don't like to be lonely. If you don't get to the point in a minute, I'm going to throw you right through that door, friend or no friend. Craig, women don't go get a venting off for the weekend and leave their purse in the hat. Well, Sully must have forgotten. That's what I'm getting at.

They don't forget them. If they do, they'll come right back and pick them up. She forgot them. If you walk outside on a day like this without a hat, first thing that comes to your mind is that you forgot your hat. Then come right back inside and get it. What I'd do and what someone else would do are two different things. She wouldn't forget her hat. It is as if she was going somewhere she needed a hat. All this talk of hats, what will you get off it? There's no need to hustle me, Craig.

I'm just trying to help you, that's all. Help me with what? I helped you build that cellar, Craig, and I know there's no chance of the floor dropping. It's solid rock, three, four feet down. I don't care what you say, Hampton. Cellar floor dropped. I don't blame you, Craig. Maybe she kicked over the traces once too often. I don't know, and I don't want to know. All I gotta say is that I'll help you all I can. I see. You did hear all those stories, didn't you? Yes, I did.

Heard the story about when you was away at that accident up at the dam? Yes. People are always ready to run with something that's going to hurt someone. Never tell tales on people that might be doing them some good. Yes, I heard all the stories, every last one of them. I've been your friend ever since you came to this town, Craig. You've done a lot to help me. And I want you to know that I'd do anything...

Anything I can to help you. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Now, no one ever need know anything about the cellar. I can swear I saw Sally leaving town in a strange car just as I was coming out here this morning. Now, that way folks will think she's run off with some fella. Heaven wouldn't be only too happy to believe that. Don't go blaming yourself, Craig. Man does something in anger when there's provocation. Well, I don't reckon he can be blamed. You think I buried Sally? There's no reason why anyone should know. Know what? What?

Hello, George. Craig. It's been hot for a man of your bulk to be getting around. I manage about taking the time. You got a cold drink? Help yourself. What can I do for you, George? Hey, you're an awful quiet ham. I figure you've said too much already. What do you mean, George? Man, my job has to do an awful lot of things he don't like. Like listening at doors? Only way I ever get to hear anything interesting.

It's funny, I never did figure you for a snooper, George Arnold. You know, when there are things a law officer should hear, he's got to work out the best way of hearing the most. Oh, let's get... A little like this does a fat man a lot of harm. All right, if we take a look down that cellar of yours, Craig... Why? You know why. I want to know why. Why don't you go make it any harder for me than it is already? Come on, let's go. You got a wire?

No. If you want to search my cellar, you go get yourself a warrant. Sure. Like to come with me for the ride? I'll wait here if you don't mind. That's what I thought you'd say. I'll bet you want to wait here too, Hampton. Yeah, I think so. It's too hot to go running all over the country. I think I'm going to have to see that cellar without a warrant, Craig. And I don't think you are. That's private property, Jones. Yeah, I suppose you're right. Unless I happen to...

Charge you with a crime of some sort, huh? Now, that way I can look all I like. Now, don't argue with me. I don't quite know what the law says about it, but that's what I say, and I'm the law. You're not going down there, George. I won't have my rights tampered with. Nobody... Well, then I'm just going to have to charge you with murder. Now, George, you want to... Just keep out of this, Ham. Keep out of it, will you?

If anyone's to blame about me being here, it's you. You ran around in circles this morning that I just had to start working things out. And when I got the answer, I came right out of here. I got the rest of the story at the door. I'll stop you, George. I'm a fat man, Craig, but I'm an awful big man. Don't try it. He's right, Craig. I've seen him hold off half a dozen. He's right. Very well. My friend.

My dear, tried and true friends. Go ahead and dig the cellar up and I hope you're satisfied. I'd like you to come with us, Craig. To help dig? I'm just doing what I have to do. Now, come on, will you? Craig, I'm real sorry. I understand. I was just trying to help. I didn't know George was going to... That doesn't matter, Ham. It doesn't matter one little bit. Lock on the door, Craig. Here's the key. See, Ham, I even took your advice. I'm sorry.

Light. I don't know whether I should touch it or not. Want me to do it for you? After all, I dug it. Craig, did you and Sally have a big fight? Yes, we did. She hasn't gone to Grand Book, has she? No, she hasn't. Yeah, well, that's that, I suppose. Craig! Craig, I couldn't.

She's got me. Sally. I'm glad, baby. I'm glad. I don't care what you believe about me, Craig. I couldn't run off. Oh, I'm glad. I tried, honest. I tried. And I love you, Craig. Those stories aren't true, Craig. They're not true. It's all right. They're not. Oh, honey, I know that. Of course. Oh, come on. Let's get out of here. We've caused enough trouble. But, George, the level couldn't have dropped. I helped dig it myself. Oh, shut up. Yes, but it couldn't have dropped. Shut up. Shut up.

Be quiet. Close that door. They probably want to be alone. Anyway, too much excitement. A bad man especially on a hot day. You miss me? Very much. What have you been doing? Nothing much. Just leveling off the cellar. The End

A closing door finishes a story. Next week, another key will open another door to another story. Mystery, romance, or adventure all start when a door is unlocked by... the key. THE KEY

The End

At Merrow West Credit Union, we're working towards a brighter financial future for both our members and our community, knowing that when you succeed, we all succeed. Let's get acquainted with our premier savings for new members, now paying over 20 times the national average. Another great reason to move your money to a credit union. Learn more at merrowwest.com slash premier savings. Merrow West Credit Union, working for you. Today, tomorrow, together.

Insured by NCUA. When it comes to quiet luxury and contemporary elegance, Swiss watchmaker Longines stands out with over 190 years of crafting fine timepieces for dress, sport, and adventure. Throughout its history, women of distinction, including aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart, Academy Award winner Jennifer Lawrence, and alpine skier Michaela Schifrin have relied on Longines for their timekeeping needs. One of Longines' most sought-after models, the Mini Dolce Vita continues this tradition as an

icon of the Art Deco era, blending elegance and functionality. The collection is a modern extension of the original Dolce Vita, inspired by a Longines legend from 1927. You can choose the classic stainless steel case or opt for the eye-catching diamond bezel. So if you're looking for that perfect gift for a special someone or treating yourself this holiday season, visit Topper Jewelers to explore the full collection of Longines watches for women.

Mention this ad for a special surprise that will make your experience memorable.

At Merrill West Credit Union, we're working towards a brighter financial future for both our members and our community, knowing that when you succeed, we all succeed. Let's get acquainted with our premier savings for new members, now paying over 20 times the national average. Another great reason to move your money to a credit union. Learn more at MerrillWest.com slash premier savings. Merrill West Credit Union, working for you today, tomorrow, together.

Insured by NCUA. When it comes to quiet luxury and contemporary elegance, Swiss watchmaker Longines stands out with over 190 years of crafting fine timepieces for dress, sport, and adventure. Throughout its history, women of distinction, including aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart, Academy Award winner Jennifer Lawrence, and alpine skier Michaela Schifrin have relied on Longines for their timekeeping needs. One of Longines' most sought-after models, the Mini Dolce Vita continues this tradition as an

icon of the Art Deco era, blending elegance and functionality. The collection is a modern extension of the original Dolce Vita, inspired by a Longines legend from 1927. You can choose the classic stainless steel case or opt for the eye-catching diamond bezel. So if you're looking for that perfect gift for a special someone or treating yourself this holiday season, visit Topper Jewelers to explore the full collection of Longines watches for women.

Mention this ad for a special surprise that will make your experience memorable. Ironized Yeast presents Lights Out. Everybody. It is later than you think. Lights Out brings you stories of the supernatural and the supernormal, dramatizing the fantasies and the mysteries of the unknown. We tell you this frankly.

So if you wish to avoid the excitement and tension of these imaginative plays, we urge you calmly but sincerely to turn off your radio now. My name, Arch Oviller. Tonight, another in our series of tales of the weird and the unusual.

The idea for today's play, the story of Mr. Maggs, came to me a few years ago when I was in England, pre-war England. Calm, peaceful, serene, no enemy bombers overhead, no screaming sirens, and England happily without worry. But before we start, Frank Martin has a word for you. Friends, these critical times are making terrific extra demands on all of us.

But if you've gotten miserably thin and tired and run down, don't necessarily blame the war or your job. It's quite possible you simply need more vitamin B and iron than you're getting from your food. Well, if you do need more of these vital substances, get them a quick, easy way. Take ironized yeast tablets.

They help two ways in cases of such deficiency. Help two ways to build you up. Help two ways to increase weight and strength. Help two ways to step up pep and energy. Remember that name, ironized yeast tablets. And now, lights out, everybody. ♪

All right, gentlemen, all right, gentlemen. Now, here's an opportunity you can't afford to miss. As the Americans say, an opportunity of a lifetime. In auctioning off these effects to various deceased members of the community, I assure you that no single piece has more pretentious value than this genuine oaken traveling truck. As you see, gentlemen, it's bound in brass and locked tight and secure with a massive genuine brass lock.

What's in it? Nobody knows. But the law says that being unclaimed, strange, merchandise, whoever buys it gets it all, as you might say, with all that's in it. Be it gold or silver plate or the jewels of India. Now, what am I offered for this chest? Make your bids and make them good, gentlemen. Do I

do i hear someone say ten pounds five shillings now gentlemen look at it locked tight and nobody knows what's inside a fortune waiting here and somebody talked to five shillings now come let's on with it what am i offering five and six oh gentlemen for firewood alone i offer six

Six. Six and six. Seven. Well, gentlemen, it appears we're having a competition in little numbers. Is there anybody here who would like to raise a bid in eight from me? Certainly, sir. Eight. Gentlemen, I ask you, ain't there anybody here which heard what I said about this guest being locked and sealed? No.

Oh, let it go. It's the last thing I've got to auction. So let it go and we'll all go home. Going to the little gentleman right down here for eight shillings even. No year anymore. Sold.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Why did you buy it? Well, I... They didn't give it to you, did they? It was only eight shillings and I... Only eight shillings? You mean to stand there and tell me you spent eight whole God-given shillings for that thing? Uh...

Yes. Harold Meigs, I ought to... Agatha, what's that? Have you a mind for Freddy? Up in the garret? Yes, yes, up in the garret. Where that great prize of yours is. Up in the garret where you should be until your head's examined. But, Agatha, what... It's Freddy. Breaking the thing open to see what's inside. Breaking it open? Yes, and I told him to do it. Freddy? Have you opened it yet? Not yet, ma'am. Oh, Agatha, please, I don't want him to... No, keep quiet. I know you haven't got a key to it.

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

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

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

Why? Why, it's empty. Empty? Harold Magg, you wretch who, taking the bread out of the mouths of your good wife and your son to buy empty crunks? Wait, Agatha. Wait for what? For what? It's not empty. What are you talking about? See? The whole inside crusted with dried blood. Harold. Harold.

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

Yes. Up in the garage. Oh. Get up and do something. Well, what could I do? Well, you're not going to let them steal a house away from us. There. Again. But why in the garage? Are you going to lie there talking while they... But we've nothing there for anyone to take there. Don't ask!

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

Well, Harold, what is it? Agatha, come here. Help me. Well, what is it? What's the matter with you? It's your Freddy. Freddy. Freddy! The lid of the chest seems to be closed on his head. And I can't seem to open it. Ladies and gentlemen, I think you'll agree when an old chest becomes a thing of horrible death and when there is more of death in the air...

Then's the time to leave tonight's Lights Out for a deep breath and a turning of our thoughts to something that perhaps is your problem. Now, back to Lights Out and our story of Mr. Maggs, the son of the house lies dead, crushed by the object Mr. Maggs had bought at the auction, an old chest.

Agatha, it's no use going on like this. There's nothing we can do for you. I knew you loved the boy. Guess he's the only thing you ever loved in all your life. Do something. Do something. What is there to do?

Storm so bad, just have to wait until morning, that's all. If you hadn't bought that infernal chest. If I hadn't bought it. Murdered him, you did. You hated him for the memory of my first husband. Now, I wouldn't say that, Agatha. Why not? You bought the chest, so it's your doing. Well, in a way, you're right.

I brought the evil into the house, now didn't I? What are you talking about? An unhappy house and now there's evil in it. What are you saying? Since we came downstairs, all these hours since it happened, I've been thinking. Thinking what? How do you think Freddy died and why? You crazy? Asking me if I know how he died?

i saw it didn't i but i asked you why did he die why why because the infernal lid of it fell on his head that's why oh my buddy yes the evil did it evil evil you are crazy the only thing evil was your buying it you just don't understand do you agatha what are you looking at me like that for

I tell you, the lid fell down on his head. Evil. Evil, evil, evil. Stop trying to make me as crazy as you are. Come on back up there and help me carry my son down so I can stretch him out decent and respectful for when the undertaker comes. No, Agatha. What? I've made up my mind. I won't go up there again. Oh, yes, you will.

He lie dead in a bed, my son. Not up there. No, Agatha, I've made up my mind. I figured out that up in the garret the evil has taken... Evil be blasted. My son, you will help me carry him down. Don't stand there. Don't stand there. Storm's over.

Help me carry down his body so I can lay it out. No, Agatha. No, hear me out. It's evil. I'll have you locked away, I tell you. Evil, and I knew somehow that it was there. That's why I dragged you downstairs again so quickly. You never thought much of me, Aggie, but this time, believe me, if I go up there with you, it means my life. I've listened to enough. A split-headed little worm, that's what you are.

There's nothing up there but that blasted chest you bought. And Freddy's body. And if you won't help me bring him down, then, Critchlow, I'll bring him down myself. No, Agatha, come back. Agatha, come back. Agatha, I beg you. Agatha! Agatha, you shouldn't have. This once in all these years, you should have listened to me. If you'd have listened, this time I would have meant something more than... Agatha? Agatha, what's doing up there? Are you all right?

Agatha, do you hear me? You all right? What in the... Helen! Helen! Helen, help me! Agatha, what? Helen! Agatha, what? What happened? What's the matter? Oh, Agatha, heaven help me. I can't come up to you. I'm afraid. Agatha, that's another hour. It's hard waiting, Agatha. I've got to keep so quiet.

I've got to listen. Perhaps you'll say something. Call me again. I've got to know what happened. Man can go crazy not knowing what happened. I'll keep very quiet. Perhaps I'll hear you saying something up there. Agatha! Wind. I hear nothing but the wind, Agatha. I'm afraid to move out of this chair, Agatha. As afraid as I've ever been in all my life. And that's been many times, Agatha. Something safe about this chair.

It's my chair. I've sat in it so many times, it knows me. And while I'm in it, nothing can happen to me. Now, can it? But if I were to get up, leave it, walk toward the door. No, I won't do that. I'll sit here and wait in the chair. And when it's daylight again... Agatha, is that you? I heard you again. Agatha? Agatha? Agatha?

Agatha, why don't you answer me? I hear you moving around. Why don't you answer me? Agatha! Agatha, isn't it you? Sounds as if... as if a heavy chest were being moved... moved along to the head of the stairs. No. Nothing more. So quiet. Coming down the steps. Coming down...

Agatha, is that you? You're bringing the chest down? Agatha, is it you? No. No, it couldn't be. You could it, Agatha. And who is bringing it down? Who is it? Answer me. Answer me! I've got to get out of here. Run. But I can't. I can't. I'm too afraid. Who is it? Who is it?

Agatha, it is you, isn't it? It must be you. It must be. Not many more steps and I'll see you. No, no, I won't look. I won't. Stop, you, whoever you are. Don't bring that chest down here. Stop. Stop. Stop. No further. Stop. I won't have to see. I won't have to see. Again. Oh, no.

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

How could a trunk come down the stairs, one at a time, alone? Daylight. Why doesn't daylight come? There's something buzzing in my head. Oh, my head. What was it? You're staring at that thing of evil.

I've got to know. Yes, I've got to know. Get up. Close to it. Just a chest. Why should I be afraid of it? Just a chest. Put my hand on it. Ha!

It moved. Moved under my hand. Thing of evil, I'll get you. You won't get me, I'll get you. My axe. Where's my axe? Closet. Was in here. Yes. Got to find my axe. Won't get me, you blasted chest, you. Got it. You hear me, you evil? Axe in my hand, I'm coming for you. You came after me, but I'll get you. I see you there at the foot of the steps, you chest, you.

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

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

I did it. I did it, you evil chest. You cracked your wide open. I'll pull the rest of you wide apart. And then... Agatha! You were in it! My axe, it's in your skull! Harry? Oh, Harry. Yes, Mr. Jemison? Harry, that chest you delivered over Applegate Way...

Where's the sign received for us? Oh, there it is. The line right here. Received one chest. What are you laughing at, Mr. Jemison? Oh, just thinking. Thinking of what, might I ask you, sir? Thinking and wondering if they found out. What's that, sir? That the chest was the one in which that murderer, the young last Wednesday, used to stuff his murdered victims. Cool.

I wonder if that little man that bought it... What was his name? Uh, Mags. Found out about his bargain yet. Phew. Now, just a second, Mr. Oblert. You mean to say that this old chest killed those people? I, uh, I didn't say. The supernatural, the supernormal, and coincidence. Who can separate the three?

I'd like to tell you something that actually happened to me, though, a few years ago. Very strange happening. But I'll tell you more about that in just a moment. More vitamin B and iron. And now, Mr. Obler, you were about to tell us... Well, I was going to tell you about that very thin line between coincidence and the supernormal. A number of years ago, back in Chicago, late at night, I sat down on my typewriter to try to write a short story. I sat and sat and sat there, but no ideas came along.

Then, just as the clock struck 12, and I remember the time very, very well, the idea came along. Quickly, I began to type the story of a criminal in a hotel room hiding from the police. He can't remember exactly what to do. Finally, in his panic, he climbs out the window and hangs from a narrow ledge high above the city street. Finally, just as the police come in, he falls.

Well, I got that very far with the plot and then suddenly rather tired I went to bed. The next morning the headline of the paper told of a criminal who had hidden in a hotel room and then when the police broke in the panic and the hour was just at midnight had tried to escape by hanging from the narrow ledge outside the room. In other words, as I was writing that story at that very moment, mind you, it was actually happening. Coincidence? Supernormal? Who knows?

But now, what happens next week, Mr. Obler? Next week, Scoop. Quite a strange title, I'll admit, and a very strange story. It's about a man who worked all his life only to have what he had worked for taken away. But that, as usual, is next week. Yes, Lights Out will come to you again next Tuesday at the same time. Be sure to listen to Arch Obler's weird story of Scoop.

Oh, by the way, in answer to those inquiring about scripts, a new book of plays by Arch Obler, Plays for Americans, has just been published by Ferrer and Reinhardt.

These plays may be used without royalties by any person or group in connection with our country's war work. And if you need more vitamin B and iron, be sure to try Ironized Yeast, the one and only Ironized Yeast, with the big letters IY on the package and on each tablet. It is later than you think.

At Merrow West Credit Union, we're working towards a brighter financial future for both our members and our community, knowing that when you succeed, we all succeed. Let's get acquainted with our premier savings for new members, now paying over 20 times the national average. Another great reason to move your money to a credit union. Learn more at merrowwest.com slash premier savings. Merrow West Credit Union, working for you. Today, tomorrow, together.

Insured by NCUA. When it comes to quiet luxury and contemporary elegance, Swiss watchmaker Longines stands out with over 190 years of crafting fine timepieces for dress, sport, and adventure. Throughout its history, women of distinction, including aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart, Academy Award winner Jennifer Lawrence, and alpine skier Michaela Schifrin have relied on Longines for their timekeeping needs. One of Longines' most sought-after models, the Mini Dolce Vita continues this tradition as an

icon of the Art Deco era, blending elegance and functionality. The collection is a modern extension of the original Dolce Vita, inspired by a Longines legend from 1927. You can choose the classic stainless steel case or opt for the eye-catching diamond bezel. So if you're looking for that perfect gift for a special someone or treating yourself this holiday season, visit Topper Jewelers to explore the full collection of Longines watches for women.

♪♪ ♪♪

Just take the chairs in this room, please. That's right. It's all right to smoke. May I have your attention, please? You people out there on the other side of the wire in the audience room, may I have your attention, please?

Thank you. My name is Grabb, Sergeant Matt Grabb. I'll explain the lineup to you. Each of the suspects you will see will be numbered. I'll call off a number, their name and charge. If you have any questions or identification, please remember the number assigned to the prisoner as I call his name. At the end of each line, when I ask for questions or identifications, call out the number. If you're sure or not too sure of the suspect, have him held.

The officers who took your name will assist you. They're seated among you. Please be prompt with your questions or identification. When the prisoners leave here, they are sent to the bathroom and dressed back into their jail clothes. It makes it quite difficult to bring them back after they leave here. The questions I ask these suspects are merely to get a natural tone of voice, so do not pay too much attention to their answers as they often lie.

Bring on the line. All right. All right, come on, move it along. Keep it moving right up to the end of the stage. Now face front and to your sides. Look straight ahead. Number one, Bernard Egan, alias Bernard Bushman. Assault, five arrests, two convictions, armed robbery.

Where do you live, Bernie? I ain't got no special place, Sergeant. It's been kind of tough. I live with friends. Why did you slug the man in that bar? Use some very uncouth language. You're a two-time loser, Bernie. This won't be easy on you. I should have controlled my disposition, I guess. But things have muck said. You hit him with a bottle. It was empty. Number two, Rex Gay. Alias Gaylord Green. Alias Rex Anderson.

Nine arrests, one conviction, grand theft, auto. Where do you live, Rex? 618 North Adams. You stole a car belonging to Mrs. R.H. Henderson. Well, I was walking by and I seen this here car parked out in the street. It was way out. Anybody could have run into it. I just figured I'd do a good turn and park it right.

You were trying to park it right three miles away from where Mrs. Henderson left it. You know, that's a funny thing. I pulled out, getting ready to back it in right, see? Some lowlife sneaks in right behind me. Well, I cussed him out, sure, but I couldn't just sit there in the middle of the street, everybody blowing horns, blah, blah, blah. So I was looking for another space. Three miles away. Number three, David Hellman, alias Richard Hellman, alias Herman Richards.

16 arrests, 2 convictions. Armed robbery, larceny. Served 15 years in a state prison. Where do you live, David? Lately, the Bowery, Sergeant. I have a mission. You're not working? I'm on vacation. See any of the boys lately? I've been going straight. You know that. You keep tabs on me. We've been watching you closer than you think.

Number four, John Kaler, alias Jack Johnson. How are you, Sergeant? You talk when I ask you. I beg your pardon, sir. Vigrancy or arrest one conviction. Forgery.

Now, where do you live, John? I just got out. Where do you live? I just registered when the door flew open. Two of your finest gentley lifted me by the back of my neck. Did a very sloppy job of risking my duffel bag only down here. Where were you registering, John? Eden Hotel, two bits and a notch. 334 West 89th Street.

Any questions or identifications from the audience? None of these men. No, sir. Any questions or identifications from the audience, please? Sergeant Graham. Yes, Lieutenant. No identifications. Run on the next group. No.

I've got the whole bunch of them down looking at the mug files. I've got to see Baylor. Want to come along? Yes, sure, sure. We haven't had a bank job like this in six years. How's the guard? Well, he's still unconscious. Doesn't look like he'll make it. No, Chief. No, Chief.

Hello, Ben. Matt. Hello, Chief. I just had the witnesses look at the lineup. Didn't spot anybody. We haven't had a bank holdup in five years. In six years. Well, here's how it stacks up, Chief. Five men went into the bank at 11 this morning. As near as the bank can tell, they got away with close to 100,000. They ran for the street, and this bank guard pulled a gun, exchanged shots with one of the holdup men. Julio Bulatti. Yeah, that's right.

Bulati and the guard are both in pretty bad shape. Unconscious. Not likely to live. Sergeant Quine's over with Bulati in case he regains consciousness. The other four left Bulati on the sidewalk, piled into a green sedan. Witnesses say it was either a Chrysler or a Plymouth. Couldn't get the license number covered with mud. The witnesses have identified two of the hold-up men. Leon and Jack Holster there.

They'd like to have those boys. Well, they've never operated here, Chief. All we know about them is what you got from Denham. They've been on the circulation for about seven months. Never pulled a job this big before, but that doesn't mean they couldn't. Originally from Oklahoma. A couple of brothers who started out bad. Both have done time. Skipped out on their parole a year ago. Well, this Bulati is a local boy. We know him. He probably landed here, cased the job, and then rounded up some local talent. That's what we're hoping for him.

We've got Bulati, but he may die before he can tell us anything.

The other three boys are local talent. Maybe we can trace that green sedan. If it wasn't stolen. Even if it was. Be easier rounding up some of our own local hoods than it would the Halsteader brothers. We've set up the usual roadblocks. Covered the airports, the bus stations, and trains. The witnesses in the bank got a good look at all five of the men? They say so. They identified the Halsteader brothers. Let's hope they can tag the other two. And what about the sixth? The man driving the car. Nobody got a good look at him. Just our luck.

He's probably the one who owns the car. Chief Bailey speaking. Yeah. Okay. You better get down to the hospital. That was quiet. Doctors say Bulati's regaining consciousness.

Here comes Quine. Is he still conscious? No. Too late. Yeah, didn't even get a statement. Just opened his eyes, took a look at me and died.

Want some coffee, man? Oh, yeah, please. Well, they didn't come up with one identification. I sent them home. Cream, sugar? No, no.

Thanks. Not one identification. No. They were a little vague. They all got a good look at the Holstetter brothers, but the others were off near the door or by the side of the room. They identified Bulati's picture, all right. They all got a good look at him while he was lying on the street.

I'm keeping Bulati's death out of the papers. I want the whole set of boys to think he can still talk. Yeah? I got the men you wanted down in the tank, Lieutenant. Okay. I'll see them in the interrogation room. Stoolies? Yeah. We haven't been able to find out too much on Bulati. Thought maybe some of the stoolies might give us a lead. Sorry, uh, won't be able to finish your coffee, Matt. Yeah.

The End

Well, I hope something comes out of this. I hope so. Hello, Lieutenant Cochran. Hello, Bert. Good afternoon, Sergeant Clebb. Hello. How are you? Is this about the bank robbery this morning? Uh-huh. I can't help you, Lieutenant. You know Giulio Bulati? I heard of him. Don't know him. He was one of the men who stuck up the bank. He's got a hundred thousand in here.

He sure had a lot of nerve pulling a job like that. What do you know about Bulati? I've heard of him. And what have you heard? Got a record. Just a hood, that's all I heard. Do you know any of his friends? No, Lieutenant. First National Bank they knocked over. Some nerve. How about the Holstetter brothers? What do you know about Leon and Jack Holstetter? Can't help you with this one, Sergeant. We've done you some favors, but... I appreciate the favors. I done you some, Lieutenant. Lieutenant?

You can't help us? No, Lieutenant, can't help you. I'd like to help you, but I don't know nothing about the bank job. Or Bulati? No, Sergeant. Or the Holstetter brothers? No, Lieutenant. You're sure, Bert? I'm sure. That's all, Bert.

Thanks, Lieutenant. Here. Keep your nose clean. Yes, Sergeant. Good afternoon. Bye, Lieutenant. Yeah. Bring in the next one. I hate working with those guys. Sometimes you gotta. Cigarette? Oh, yeah. Here's Tony, Lieutenant. All right. Come on in, Tony. Hello, Lieutenant. Just sit down, Tony. Sure. Hello, Sergeant. Hello, Lieutenant.

We want to ask you some questions, Tony. How about the bank job this morning, huh? Word gets around. Yeah, it sure does. I can't do you no good. Did you know Giulio Bulati, Tony? No, I heard of him, no. Know any of his friends? No. How about Leon and Jack Holstead? Heard of them, too? Don't know them. Don't know them.

Oh, well, I think we only have one more. Amos here is the last one, Lieutenant. Okay. Come on in, Amos. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Lieutenant. Have a chair, Amos. Thanks. How you been, Sergeant? Fine, fine. We want to ask you some questions. Sure. About the bank holdup this morning. I know. They all do. You know Giulio Bulatti? No. No?

I know a kid named Frank Merritt. Oh, you do, eh? Yeah. Good friend of Baladi's. Hear he was with him all last night. How about this morning? Couldn't say, Lieutenant. I hear there's Frank Merritt. He's from Denver. Allsteader boys are from Denver. Ain't they, Lieutenant? Yeah, that's right. Now, where can we find this Frank Merritt, Amos? I don't know, Lieutenant. Got a hunch he's making himself scarce. How long has this Frank Merritt been in town?

About two weeks, I think. Drove in from Denver in a green Chrysler sedan. Good morning, Ben. Morning. I just saw Chief Baylor. And? And nothing. Nothing?

I'm getting sick of this. We get a lead and we sit around for two days. Yeah, I'm getting sick of it, too. But we can't find Merritt. Or the Halsteader brothers, or an identification on the other two hold-up men, or the Green Sedan. Yeah. FBI's got every available man on it. We've got every precinct in the city working on it. Sooner or later, we're going to turn up with something. Yeah. Ulcers. Now, look, if we don't pick up one of the Halsteader boys, then we might find Merritt and he'll lead us to the rest.

If we don't find him, we may get a lead on that green sedan. There's so few green Chrysler sedans in this city. Maybe you have a better suggestion? No, but I have an alternate. Make some coffee. I'm sick of coffee, too. Well, then, you think of something. Hand me the coffee, John. Lieutenant Guthrie. This is Quine, Lieutenant. That bank guard just died. He never regained consciousness.

Okay, come on in. That's swell, Matt. Bank guard just died. No identification. Oh, where the devil are these guys, man? I always thought we had a pretty efficient force. They're keeping out of sight good. Yeah. Well, they haven't gotten through the roadblocks. Haven't left the city unless they have Houdini's ghost with them. We'll get them, Ben. Sure. They're somewhere in the city. We've got them trapped and we don't know it. And you know something? What?

Neither do they.

Police headquarters. Ben. Yeah, what's doing, man? You knocking off? Yeah, you? Uh-huh. Give you a lift? Oh, I'd love it.

Good night, Bill. Good night, Lieutenant. Good night, Bill. I'm a little tired. Yeah, me too. Want to stop and get some dinner? Oh, yeah, sure. Lieutenant! It's Quine. Wait a minute, Ben. Oh.

Glad I caught you. Yeah, what's the matter? We think we got the green Chrysler sedan spotted in a garage over on 3rd Avenue. Guy Fitton and Merritt's description brought it in yesterday morning for a paint job. What, uh, what were you saying about dinner then?

It's your listening post to the world. CBS new program, Hear It Now, featuring Edward R. Murrow, Friday evenings on most of these same stations. The top news of the preceding seven days. International, political, sports, entertainment, all the fields of interest are covered in this fascinating, noteworthy one-hour program.

Oftentimes, you hear the actual voices of the people who've made the news on Hear It Now. Be listening every Friday for Hear It Now, your listening post to the world.

That's right, Lieutenant. That's the fellow who brung in the car. That's it right over there, the black sedan. You painted it? Sure. That's what the fellow wanted. How'd I know you guys were looking for him? He just come in and wanted a fast paint job. How'd I know? I'm in business. Gotta make a buck. It was green? Sure. He wanted yellow at first, but I told him if it was a good job, he might have to sandblast. Stuff bleeds through. Yeah.

He settled for black in a fast job. Green don't bleed through black. Yeah, when is he supposed to pick it up? Some time between 5.30 and 6. We close up at 6. Well, it's nearly 6 now. Yeah, maybe he spotted us coming in. We were pretty careful. We've done a good job, too.

If you pick him up, who pays, huh? Klein, get behind one of those cars. All right. Merritt's picking the car up. He's probably expected back with a gang. We can't give him the car and take a chance on losing him in traffic. Well, how can we take the time to haul him down to headquarters and sweat him? His friends will wonder where he is. We can't take the time. Huh? Well, then what? Then we'll sweat him right here. Maybe we can drag it out of him in a hurry.

You got an office? Sure, right back there. Okay. Get behind one of the cars on that side, Matt. No shooting if you can help him. Right. Shooting? Get out of that cap and overalls. Huh? Get out of them. Hurry up. Okay. Laquan. Yeah? I'll see if I can take him alone. Don't come out unless I give you the word. Okay. Matt?

Matt? Say, aren't those overalls a little snug? Now, look, I'll take him first. Here he is. Hey, you! We're just closing. I know, I got a car here. Oh, okay. It's Blackman right over there. You remember where I brought... Now, you ain't the guy who was here yesterday. No, no, he's back in the office. Oh. Well, look, I'm in a hurry. Say, you must be Mr. Marin. Yeah. How did you know? Keep your hands where they are, Marin. What is this? Police. Now, wait a minute. Don't move. Don't move.

Put your hands behind your head. Hey, you're making a mistake. Where can we find the Holstetter boys? Who? Here. Here's his gun. Get him in the office. Move. No, look, wait a minute. I told you, you're making a mistake. That bank guard died, Merritt. What bank guard? What are you talking about? Move. Okay, okay. But I don't know what you're talking about. You stay out of here, Quentin, in case somebody else shows. Garage man's hiding down in the grease pit. Help him close up. Yeah, sure. Move.

All right. Sit down, Merrick. Look, sit down. Why don't you guys listen to me? You got a permit to carry this gun? Permit? Uh, yeah. Where is it?

I left it at home. In Denver? No, where I live. Where do you live? Look, you've got no right to ask me. You were one of six men who stuck up the First National Bank three days ago. You're crazy. You and the Holstetter brothers. I didn't stick up no bank. I don't know nobody by that name. You know Giulio Bulati? Bulati? Giulio Bulati. No. He knows you. He couldn't. Who? Well, why couldn't he? Because I ain't never met him. I don't know him. He swears he knows you. I can't help it. Maybe he does, but I don't know him. I never heard of him. He says that you were in on that holdup. He's a dirty liar. I tell you, I don't know him.

He's in the hospital. We got a sworn statement. I don't know him. I don't know him. He didn't like being left behind. What are you talking about, left behind? After he got shot outside the bank, you left him lying there. I didn't leave him nowhere. He named all six men in that holdup. Well, I wasn't one of them. I swear you got the wrong... You got you and the Holstetter brothers. I don't owe any Holstetter brothers. That's your sedan out there, isn't it? Yeah, so what?

This is a murder rap, Merritt. That bank guard died. Listen, you can't do this to me. Your only statement is enough to execute you. I don't know no July. What were you doing three days ago at 11 o'clock in the morning? Three days ago. The 16th. At 11 o'clock in the morning. I don't know. I don't remember. How do you expect me to remember three days ago at 11 o'clock? You better stop remembering, Merritt. Uh...

I was having breakfast. Where? I don't know this town very well. I remember some drugstore. Near where you live? Yeah. Where do you live? Roaming House on Baker Street. What's the address? 412 West. There's no drugstore around there, Merrick. Sure there is. One on the corner. That's the one you had breakfast in? No. You went to another one? Yeah. You walked? Walked.

No, I went to a drugstore further away. I don't remember which one. You drove? Yeah, yeah, I drove. In that car out there? Yeah. A dozen people identified that car as the one in front of the bank. Well, they're all nuts. They got the license number. They couldn't have. Because it was covered with mud? No, they just couldn't have. I wasn't near the bank. You know where the bank is? No.

Then how do you know whether or not you were near it? You're a stranger in this town, aren't you? I told you, yeah. That car was identified as the holdup car. You're in trouble, Merritt. Why? I didn't do anything. Give me a lawyer. We've got sworn statements from a dozen witnesses and Bulati. You won't stand a chance against the jury. I didn't pull no holdup. Sworn statements, Merritt. I don't believe it. How do you think we found you? Might not execute you for state's evidence. I don't know nothing about it. Okay. I'm satisfied just to get this one, Matt.

Take them down and book them on armed robbery and first-degree murder. Oh, wait a minute. We'll get the Holstetter brothers whether you help us or not. Yeah. Got a cigarette? Yeah. Where can we find the Holstetter brothers? Will you go easy on me? No deals. I'll do what I can. You'll die if you don't help, Merritt. Okay. The Holstetter brothers are down in the shack in the freight yards. Who are the two other men in on the holdup?

I thought you said Bulati squealed on all of us. Well, I hope you won't hold us against us, Merritt. But Bulati's been dead for three days.

It's Chief Baylor, Ben. Yeah, as if we don't have enough trouble. Now, we got the yards surrounded, Chief. They're down in that shack. You seen them? No. Merritt says they're down there. Quine and Asher have Merritt in the car. How many of them? A whole bunch, according to Merritt. All Steader brothers. A man named William White, Detroit record. A guy named Jake Harrison, also a Detroit boy. And a guy named Jake Harrison.

Merritt was supposed to pick him up in the car. You got lights? It's pretty dark. Yeah, four big ones. All right. Now, what's the deal? Well, I'd like to get him out of that shack if I can. Merritt was supposed to drive up on that ramp and honk twice. Now, we got the sedan here, so what's to stop one of us from driving it up on the ramp and honking twice, and when they get halfway to the car, throw the lights on and cover them?

Okay, okay. Gwine? Yeah? Come here. You still want to take that car down on the ramp? Yeah, sure. Well, go ahead. When you get down there, honk twice. All right, Matt. Alert the men. Right. Gwine will have to drive the sedan down to the Lincoln Street entrance to get out on the ramp. Take him about five minutes.

I hope those guys in the shack are patient. I hope those guys are in the shack. There's Quine. He did that in a hurry. Give me that microphone. Here. Here they come. I count three. Where's the other one? About halfway, Ben. Let him get a little further away from the shack. Okay. They don't know which way to go. Stand where you are. You're surrounded.

They're running. Open fire. That's three, but where's the other one? Play those lights around the yard. Put one on the shack. There. There he goes. He climbed into that culvert. Hold your fire. Come on, man. Yeah. That's the river overflow. Yeah, careful, man. We'll be setting ducks for it.

I'm going in. I'm coming, too. Come on. Stay out of the light. Keep against that wall. Okay, Ben, okay. Yeah. Come on. Are you okay? Yeah. Yeah, there he goes. The light up ahead at the end of the culverts. Yeah, there he is. Come on.

He's hit, but he's still going. Watch yourself. There. There he is. He's lying by the edge of the water. Roll him over. He's dead. It's Leon Holstetter, all right? Yeah. What's the matter? What'd you do to your knee?

Skinned it? We'd better put something on it when we get to the car. A thing like that can be dangerous. The Lineup. Where before you pass the innocent, the vagrant, the thief, the murderer. Listen again next week when we again bring you The Lineup.

May I have your attention, please? You people out there on the other side of the wire in the audience room. May I have your attention, please? Thank you. My name is Greb, Sergeant Max Greb. I'll explain the lineup to you. Each of the suspects you will see will be numbered. I'll call up a number, their name and charge. If you have any questions or identifications, please remember the number assigned to the president as I call the stand.

The lineup starring Bill Johnstone as Lieutenant Ben Guthrie and Wally Mayer as Sergeant Matt Greb is written by Blake Edwards with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Featured in tonight's cast were Clayton Post, Robert Griffin, Raymond Burr, Earl Lee, High Everback, and Ed Begley. The lineup is produced and directed by Jaime Del Valle. ♪♪

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The Army is now offering to young women with college degrees the opportunity to become second lieutenants in the WAC regular Army. That means a lifetime career with security, with all the advantages and privileges of male officers. But you'll have to hurry. Applications must be received by 6th Army Headquarters by January 15th. So act today, right now. ♪♪

We must see ourselves as others see us. If our nation is divided in any way by rumors or acts against other groups, races, or religions, we suffer. In these times of crisis, we lose not only abroad, but at home. Judge your neighbor, your fellow worker, on his merits alone. Dan Coverley speaking. This is CBS, where you find songs for sale every Friday night at the Columbia Broadcasting System.

Lux presents Hollywood. Lever Brothers Company, the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, bring you the Lux Radio Theater, starring Ray Moland and Maureen O'Sullivan in The Big Clock. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. William Keeling. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Some time ago, I read a galley proof of a new book.

and was so impressed by its screen possibilities that I phoned an executive at Paramount to recommend its purchase, only to learn they had already bought it. That book became Paramount's outstanding example of motion picture suspense, The Big Clock.

It's our play tonight, and we're fortunate enough to have two stars from the original cast, Ray Moland and Marino Sullivan, with Ray playing a magazine editor with an uncanny genius for tracking down criminals, and Marino Sullivan as his wife. This past week, Mrs. Keely and I entertained two friends from Siam, who I discovered are enthusiastic users of Lux Toilet Soap.

Even in Siam, or Thailand as it is now called, our product is famous as a beauty care. That was true in the quieter days before the war, when we visited this colorful land. And according to our friends, Lux Toilet Soap is still a favorite. They're on their way home now and are listening tonight from the Pacific, as the curtain rises on the big clock.

starring Ray Moland as George Stroud and Marie O'Sullivan as Helen. Midtown New York City, towering 50 stories above the street, is the famous Janeth Building, world headquarters of the incredible business empire known as Janeth Publications. In the lobby of the Janeth Building is a tremendous clock. Its size and accuracy attract hundreds of sightseers daily to the Janeth Building.

The most famous privately owned clock in the world, ladies and gentlemen. Its master mechanism, built at a cost of more than half a million dollars, is set so you can tell the time anywhere on the earth. London, Chicago, Honolulu, anywhere. This master mechanism also synchronizes every clock in this building with those in the other Janeth buildings in Kansas City, San Francisco, and the 43 foreign offices of the Janeth organization throughout the country.

Among the dozen different magazines owned by Mr. Janeth is one called Crimeways, George Stroud editor. And Mr. Janeth wanted me to tell you how delighted he is, George. Why, that's the fifth Criminal Crimeways magazine is found before the police. The fifth in six months. Yes, sir, George, we're proud of you.

Now, what about your plans for next week? That's Cordette's problem, Steve. I'll be in West Virginia. Mr. Janeth wants you to follow through, George, personally. On my vacation? Postponed. Oh, no, nothing's postponed. This is my honeymoon. Honeymoon? With a five-year-old child? He's six years old. And you know why it's my honeymoon? Earl Janeth. Seven years ago, I was assistant editor of the Wheeling West Virginia Clarion. A happy man.

Then I happened to run down a guy the police of three states were looking for. I got a $10 raise. So I marry my girl and we go on our honeymoon to her Uncle Fred's cabin at Indian Lake. When we open the door, the phone's ringing. Earl Janeth wants me to run Crimeways magazine, not next week or tomorrow, but tonight.

Two hours later, we're on the train for New York. Think you'd have done better to stay in West Virginia? Look, Steve, put yourself in Helen's position. How would you like to be married to a woman who never had a honeymoon? It's an obsession with her. Is Helen home now? I'll call her up. Nothing doing. Look, for seven years, I've worked 26 hours a day for Mr. Janeth. Christmases, Fourth of July, Mother Days...

What does Janet think I am, another one of his clerks full of springs and gears instead of flesh and blood and ulcers? Where is Janet? I'll tell him exactly what I think. Oh, come in, Earl. I like your office, darling. Pauline, how did you get in here? Oh, the tycoon's lair. The Berchtesgaden of the publishing world. It seemed impregnable until I thought of your private elevator. How did you get past the guard? He's human. You're the only superman, darling.

Oh, what was that I was just listening to? I turned this switch here and I heard voices. One of them was Steve Hagen's. Oh, you mean you have microphones planted all over the building? Oh, my darling, how clever of you. And obnoxious. Stop this nonsense. You don't expect me to approve of your being here? I came about my singing lessons. Hagen attended to that yesterday. He gave you a check. I told you $2,000, not one. Or perhaps you don't think my voice is worth cultivating.

Your voice is worth exactly what that check reads. That's all, Pauline. I'm leaving. Immediately. I'm six minutes behind my schedule. I have to fly to Washington at 5.10. I'll see you tomorrow night at 10.55. Of course, darling. And I like your office, Earl. Just think, to be able to listen to what everybody's talking about. Yes, Earl, Stroud insists he's leaving on his vacation. He's all worked up about it. I'll take charge of that young man myself.

And Steve, on the fourth floor in the broom closet, an electric light's been burning for two days. Find the man responsible and dock his pay. Of course. About Stroud, he's meeting his wife at the Van Bath, 12.30. Let him have lunch. I'll get around to him later. Hello? Hmm? I said hello. Oh. Hello. Waiting for someone?

Yes, my wife. Mind if I keep you company till she gets here, Mr. Stroud? What makes you think my name is Stroud? Oh, I'm just naturally psychic. Here, give me a hand and I'll tell you what I see. Hmm. Mm-hmm. A very interesting poem. There's been a quarrel about a very unpleasant man. A publisher. Hey, wait a minute. I'm scared of you. Oh, you don't have to be. You see, I... I was listening to you and Mr. Hagen...

Only at the time I was in Earl Janeth's office. Your voice came through beautifully, Mr. Stroud. What were you doing in Janeth's office? Earl and I are old friends. He once pointed you out to me. Perhaps I should say we were old friends. You know...

What you said this morning made me think that we have a great deal in common. You know the inside, and I know the outside. And together, we could... Oh, oh, oh, Helen, hey, say, you're late. Oh, oh, oh, this is Miss, um... Pauline York. Uh, yeah, she was telling my fortune. Oh, don't let me disturb you. Oh, it's quite all right, Mrs. Stroud. I'm afraid the psychic vibrations are unsympathetic. Goodbye, George. Uh...

She is psychic. I'm definitely unsympathetic. Now, darling, let me explain. A, she just this minute spotted me. B, I wouldn't make a pass at her on a bet. And C... And C, you knew I'd be along any minute. Yes, so let's sit down and get a table. Did you pick up the train tickets? Yes, a drawing room on the 722 from Penn Station. And Tommy's at Grandma's. Oh, George, I still can't believe we're going. Hey, hey, now, that's no mood for a honeymoon. Oh, I know.

But sometimes I think you marry that magazine instead of me. Well, look, we've got a certificate that says different. Yes, but we don't live that way. We're like strangers sharing an apartment. Either you come dragging home at night too tired even to talk to me... or else you're off having fun with some dancer in San Francisco. Now, I told you that was for an article. Oh, I could write an article, too. How to Look at a Wall in Six Easy Lessons.

Oh, George, we should never have left West Virginia. Why, we'd be a family now, an honest-to-goodness full-time family. Darling, if you just listen to me, I... Well, I have listened for seven years. George, do you realize our son doesn't know you?

Why, a boy needs a father. Look, darling, we're going to have lunch. After lunch, I'm going back to the office. And at 5 o'clock, I'm leaving the office, and neither snow nor heat nor rain nor gloom of night is going to keep me off that train for Wheeling, West Virginia. Oh, I'm crazy. I'm crazy, I know it. But I believe you mean it. Oh, darling, darling, please be on that train. And, George, I just thought I'd drop into your office and see you. Yes, George, I'm curious. You, uh...

You are, Mr. Janice? Yes, yes. This job you've been doing of finding people a step ahead of the police all the time. What's the method, George?

Well, we call it the system of the irrelevant clue. Now, the police only look for the relevant clues. They haven't much time for anything else, not when a case just breaks, you see. But we assemble all the clues. We recreate the man, his character, his habits, his emotions. And when you have that pattern straightened out, it's easy enough to figure where to look for your missing man. Well, that's interesting. Most interesting. Now, this Fleming case, do you know how we found Fleming? No.

Seashells. Seashells? Yes. Fleming was a fanatical collector of paleozoic bivalves. I checked his index and found he had every variety except one. You see? It's up there on the blackboard. Now, the only specimen of that seashell in the United States is in a museum in Salt Lake City. So I assigned a man to watch it constantly. Fleming was going to steal it? Well, it wasn't for sale. Now, wouldn't you steal something if you wanted it badly enough? Yes, I might, I might.

George, you've done a fine job of work for me. Well, I think the real credit belongs to the Crimeway staff, Mr. Janeth. That's another thing I like about you, George. You're modest. George, we've worked together now for six years, haven't we? Seven. Shoulder to shoulder, comrades in arms. Nothing, neither of us letting the other down. Now, George, this Fleming story, properly followed up, should boost circulation 10%. Oh, 15. That's the spirit. So I'm giving you carte blanche for the next three issues. The...

The next three issues? Yes, carte blanche. And then a wonderful vacation. All expenses paid. South America. West Virginia, Mr. Janeth. And tonight. Now, George, listen to me. Ah, you really had me going there for a minute, Mr. Janeth. You're a great performer. Then I'll dispense with the performance, George.

Either you see this thing through with us, or you're fired. That's okay with me. I'm fired. And I'll have you blacklisted all over the country. You'll never work on a magazine again. It's still okay. I'll give you exactly four minutes to think it over, George. Let Hager know what you decide. I don't need four minutes or four seconds! Yes? Call for you, Mr. Stroud. Well, what woman? She wouldn't say. She keeps talking about reading your... Oh! Oh, put her on. Hello? Hello, George. And how are you? You want to make a bet? Yes.

Five to one, your crystal ball hasn't given you the latest flash. I've just been fired. Blacklisted. Never to work in the publishing business again. What are you going to do about it? Well, first, I'm going to get myself a good stiff drink. Good, I'll join you. I'm sorry, but I won't have time. This is business, George. You see, the great man thinks he's going to blacklist me, too. But I know enough about Mr. Janeth to make him change his mind about both of us. So, how about the vanquisher?

Oh, but it's almost five, and I promised my wife I... I think this is one time she'd forgive you, George. Okay, half an hour at the Van Barth. Call my home, will you, Miss Adams? Tell my wife I'll be home at six o'clock. Bartender, the lady and I will have two more stingers, and this time make them with green mint. Green mint? Yes, Mr. Janath hates green, anything green, didn't you know? Who's Mr. Janath? Never mind. Two drinks, doubles, with green mint. Yes, sir.

How are you feeling? Oh, fine, fine. Good. I'm feeling fine, too. Oh, George, it's getting late. Now, about that idea I have... So you want us to write his biography, huh? Janice's biography. Who'd buy it? He'd buy it, Janice, just to make sure it would never be published. You know, it's a very interesting idea. But it's not for me, honey. Now, what time is it? A little after seven. Ha!

I said, what time is it? Well, if you want to quibble, five after seven. Holy smoke, the train, I missed the train. Excuse me, I got to phone home. Well, how's everything at home? She's gone. She went without me. How do you like that? I give up my job, jeopardize my whole career for her sake, and she won't even wait a couple of minutes. Bartender, where are those drinks? Well, I'm chilly, shall we? Let's have them. Oh, no.

Oh, here, here, use my hand. Then I have got an idea. Well? Well, you see, Janeth, he loves time. He's in love with clocks. Well, I despise time, so let's send him a clock, a green clock. Oh, that's a lovely idea. Oh, but who sells green clocks at this time of night? You just leave it to old Uncle George. You finish that drink, then leave it to good old Uncle George. Oh,

Let's look for another antique shop, George. It's a cinch they don't have any green clocks here. Hey, hey, wait a minute. That painting over there. Oh, George, it's horrible. A painting of a pair of hands. Never mind your opinions. I'll bet that's a Patterson. A-I-C, Flora Patterson. Well, if I painted that, I'd never sign my name to it. One of these days, this canvas will be famous. Storky Bird! I told you, mister, no green clocks. How much for the painting?

Twelve dollars. Huh? Look, you want it, give me ten dollars. Sold and save the wrapping. I'll put it under my arm. But I'm taking my clock trade elsewhere. Yes, sir. Thank you. Good night, mister. Good night, lady. So you bought the painting. Huh? Who are you? Just a busybody peeking in store windows. Isn't it a pity? The wrong people always have the money. Good night. You know, I think she's pixelated.

Come on, we'll go to Bert's place for a green clock. Where? You never heard of Bert's place? It's a saloon. Oh. Oh, very famous place. Bert's a collector. He collects anything from collar buttons to buggy whips. Why? Well, pardon me, it's his way of advertising. He's got a standing guarantee to all customers. A free drink to anyone who can ask him for something he hasn't got. I'm all for a free drink. Me, I want a green clock. Come on, it's just around the corner. Oh, what a place. Ha, ha.

I've never seen such a collection of junk in my life. Hey, George, old boy. George, how are you? Well, well, we love you, President McKinley. Pauline, I want you to meet the 23rd President of the United States. The 25th, George. How do you do? It's a very great pleasure, ma'am. Thank you, President.

I heard you were dead. He is also Colonel Jefferson Randolph of Randolph Farms, Georgia. How do you do, Colonel? We Randolphs, ma'am, will fight the Yankees till the last drop of bourbon's been shed. Also Inspector Regan of the Homicide Detail. As an officer of the law, it's my duty to warn you that anything this fella says may be used against you. Be seeing you, George. What? Who in the world? Radio.

Oh, brother. What happened?

Hey, where are we? My apartment. You passed out. George, you've got to leave now, right away. Well, you were going to make some coffee. George, Earl Janeth's here. His car's downstairs. Janeth? Yes, he's on his way up. Now, please hurry. Oh, and take this, too. Our green clock? No, I wouldn't hear of it. I want you to have it as a little memento. All right, just get out of here. Well, it's been a pleasure, Miss York. George, George, wait till you hear the elevator and then use the stairs. Yes, ma'am. Oh, here. Here.

Your painting. An original Patterson. Ten dollars. Don't worry. I decided to come back tonight, Pauline. But I'll only stay a moment. I was wondering if you had a pleasant evening. Marvelous. Started at the Van Bath and just kept going. Was he with you? The fellow who ran down the stairs as I got out of the elevator? Yes. Yes, he was. Who is he? Just a man. He's...

His name's Jefferson Randolph. What does he do? Nothing much, I'm afraid. Sort of a playboy. I'm getting a little tired of your friends. Now, that's a shame, isn't it? The army captain. The lifeguard last summer. The racetrack tout at Saratoga. How many others have I been? Shut up!

You. You of all people. Talking about my friends. What about you and that Artway secretary? And that stenographer? And the girl from publicity? You think they'd look at you twice if you weren't the great Janet? Stop it. Have you lived this long without knowing that everybody laughs at you behind your back? Stop it. You'd be pathetic if you weren't so disgusting. I said stop it. Why, you clammy, flabby, lousy... Stop it. Stop it. Steve, how can you be so calm? I told you I killed Pauline not 20 minutes ago.

I killed Pauline. Why? I don't know. Forgive me, Steve. I had no right to come here to your home. I'll go. I'll go to the police. Don't be a fool. What about Janeth Publications? Do you want to fight or do you want to quit? Steve, if there's any chance at all of getting out of this, you know I'll take it. Of course there's a chance. We've been very discreet about Pauline. No one knows about her but you and I. Now tell me. Tell me what you did. I can't describe that. You've got to tell me, Earl.

Thirty seconds before, I didn't intend anything like it. I just don't understand it. I struck her with some sort of sundial, heavy metal. It's still there. Didn't you wear a hat? Where is it? I must have left it there. I'll go to her apartment, Earl. I'll clean things up. Steve, I'm gratified. I always thought you wanted to step into my shoes with Janeth Publications. Not yet, Earl.

Janeth, publications aren't through with you yet. Now stop worrying. With any luck, nobody's ever going to know you killed Pauline York. We'll return with the second act of The Big Clock in a few moments. And now, our Hollywood reporter, Libby Collins, with news about the stars. And one of the busiest stars in Hollywood, Mr. Keeley, is Joan Fontaine.

I attended a studio showing of her latest picture, You Gotta Stay Happy, released by Universal International. That's the second picture made by Joan's own company, Rampart Productions. Yes. And you know, it's really a family affair. Because Joan Fontaine's husband, William Dozier, is the producer.

So what with being business partner to her husband and acting the leading role, Joan had plenty to do. She certainly proves she has a flair for light comedy and you've got to stay happy. Teamed up with Jimmy Stewart, the laughs come thick and fast. Well, the picture lived up to its name with the whole cast. Everybody stayed happy to the very last scene. And even though Joan would be tired after a long day on the set, she'd leave her dressing room looking fresh and lovely as ever.

I'm sure John Kennedy could tell you the reason why. Oh, that's easy, Libby. All luxe girls know what to do for a quick beauty pickup. Especially when there's a cake of that big, new, bath-size luxe toilet soap handy. My, what a refreshing beauty bath it makes. That generous bath size gives more of the creamy luxe soap lather. Screen stars love the luxe soap perfume, too.

A light, delicate fragrance that really lasts. Luxe Soap's perfume is a triumph of blending, Libby. The fragrance of rose jasmine, lily of the valley, and lilac are just a few of the ingredients. No wonder screen stars recommend the new Satin Smooth Bath Cake. It's so luxurious. Women everywhere are thrilled with Luxe Toilet Soap in the generous new bath size. If you haven't tried it, why not put it on your shopping list tomorrow? Here's our producer, Mr. William Keeley.

Here's the second act of The Big Clock, starring Ray Moland as George and Maureen O'Sullivan as Helen. Earl Janeth made no mistake when he picked Steve Hagen as his second-in-command. Hagen's gone to Pauline's apartment. From her purse, he's removed a man's handkerchief and a check for $1,000. He's set back the time on a broken clock, picked up Janeth's hat, and taken the sundial. Now, after a long talk with Janeth, he's telephoned George Stroud.

But George isn't at home. George is in Wheeling, West Virginia. Don't you understand, Helen? I was detained. I took the first plane I could get. Oh, I was so angry when the train left without you. It was unforgivable, George. It was unforgivable you're leaving without me. Well, what was I supposed to do? Wait at the station till our golden wedding? That's exactly what Janeth wanted.

Darling, I got news for you. I've quit. For good, forever, and for always, I quit. Oh, I don't believe it. We're unemployed and penniless. Oh, that's too good to be true. Blacklisted for life, never to work on a magazine again. Oh, George, how wonderful. Why didn't you phone me? Oh, darling, I had 18 million things to do. You just can't clean up seven years in five minutes. Oh, I've been so miserable. Were you miserable, too? Miserable? I was desolate. I walked the streets like a zombie...

You didn't meet any blonde fortune tellers on the way, did you? You're not serious. Yes, I am, George. I'm very serious. I can stand a lot, but that's one thing I just couldn't take. My darling, that's something you'll never have to take. You're the only blonde in my life. I'm a brunette. Well, you're the only brunette, too. Don't answer it. Well, hadn't I better? No one would call if it weren't important.

Hello? George, Steve Hagen. George, we've got the story of the year. It's a natural for you. Haven't you heard, Steve? I quit. That's telling him, darling. But, George, this is important. The payoff man in an enormous war contract scandal. Find him and you'll get a bonus. Six months vacation. I'm on a permanent vacation right now, and you can tell Mr. Janet I'm... Wait a minute, George. Wait a minute. I'll put him on. Don't want to talk to him. This is Janet, George. Very badly yesterday.

I apologize. Well, that's very big of you, Mr. Janath. George, as servants of the public, it's our duty to find this man. The trail is still fresh. He was around town last night with a block. We know they were at the Van Barth and some place called Bert's. What? What place? Bert's place. You know who the girl is? No, and we don't have to the man. His name is Jefferson Randolph. Randolph? I'm not going to rest until I've exposed this scoundrel if I have to assign every man in our organization. Well, I'll grab the next plane, Mr. Janath. George...

If you leave me now, I'll never speak to you again. Darling, I have to. Why? Why do you have to? Janice says it's a war contract scandal. That's just a blind. He's trying to find out who's been playing around with this girl. I happen to know the man. Well? He's a victim of circumstance. I've got to go back. I've got to keep Janice from finding him. It would wreck his life. His life? Well, what about our life? Helen, please. I've got to go back to New York. I've got to go back to New York.

I just called the airport, Earl. Stroud will be here any minute. Steve, do you think he can do it? Find Jefferson Randolph? Yes. He's a wizard at finding people. Pinning the murder on Randolph may be something else again. Oh, uh, about the sundial, Earl. There was a tag on the bottom. Stolen from Bert's place, it said. So I brought it back to the saloon. Brought it back? No one saw it. Kept it under my coat. Earl, are you sure this Randolph fellow saw you last night? He couldn't help but see me. I was directly under a light.

And if you're smart, Steve, you'll send my wife two dozen roses or something. She came back with me, but she's not at all happy about it. Of course, George, of course. Now about this Jefferson Randolph. A war contract scandal, huh? Yes, we know nothing about him. Only that he and a very pretty blonde were at the Van Bath last night and later at Bert's place. You can assign anybody you want to this case, spend all the money you think necessary. But we must get results, and quickly. Where did you get your information, Steve? A confidential source. Earl and I have pledged not to reveal it. Okay, good.

I'll get the staff together, check back with you in an hour. George, remember, forget the blonde. All we want is Jefferson Randolph. Hello? Hello, operator? I'm with you now, sir. Okay.

Bert's place? Bert? Yeah. George Stroud. Oh, how are you, Mr. Stroud? Look, Bert, I can't go into details, but you haven't seen me all week, understand? And definitely I wasn't around there last night. Ha, ha, I get it, Mr. Stroud. A little wifey trouble, huh? Well, something like that, Bert, but don't let me down. Don't you worry, Mr. Stroud. I never even heard of you. Thanks, Bert. Much obliged.

Miss Adams? Yes, sir? What about that Butterfield number? It still doesn't answer, Mr. Stroud. Oh, there's a phone for the apartment house. Maybe they'd know if Miss York went out. I told you not to mention that name. I'm sorry, Mr. Stroud. Well, forget the apartment house. I want to speak to the party directly. I'll try again in a few minutes. Hey, George, George, we got something. Come in, Cordette. Spalding just phoned in, found a witness. Said he saw a couple of black hours near Bert's place at 10.30 last night. The man had a painting under his arm.

A painting of a pair of hands. What about the man? Any description? Awful vague, George. The witness was too busy staring at the blonde. Well, put what you got on the blackboard. Burt's Place, 1030. Oh, George. Oh, come in, Steve. Couldn't that be one of your famous irrelevant clues? What? The picture.

picture the painting of the hands oh yes yes it might be at that and if he had it under his arm maybe just bought it somewhere in the neighborhood well i'll uh sign a man to check what's the matter with you put six men on it check every art store and antique shop in the neighborhood this could be red hot yeah yeah you're right caught that get every available man in here right away blackboard starting to look like something george as of exactly 12 17 here's where we stand

Named Jefferson Randolph, tall, medium-billed, black hair. Was wearing single-breasted, gray suit, well-tailored, blue tie. Frequents the Van Barth and Burt's Place, collects paintings, character questionable. Mr. Stroud, Vincent's on the phone. They've located five Randolphs. I'll get it, George.

Hello? Look, put Vincent on Kislav's phone. Kislav, assign a man to each one of those Randolphs. Routine check with form AA. Okay, okay, fine. That was fence, George. Another break. That painting came from an antique store on 3rd Avenue, and the artist's name is Patterson. Well, sounds like our man may be a collector. Oh, what do we do about it, George? Hadn't we better get on it? What's the name of the chief critic on Artways? Oh, a fellow named Klausmeier. Yeah, yeah, I'll send him over to see Patterson. Patterson, Patterson...

Of course, I've seen some of her paintings in your home. Look, why don't you interview Patterson? I can't leave here. The way we're going, we'll have Randolph inside of three hours. Look, you better grab a bite to eat, Cordette. You may not have a chance later. Yeah, thanks, George. I just tried the Butterfield number again, Mr. Stroud. Still no answer. Well, skip it. I'll try it myself later. Oh, Mr. Klausmeier's on the phone. He said if you're busy, he'll call Mr. Hagen. Hagen? No, no.

Klausmeier, this is George Stroud. Have you seen Miss Patterson yet? I just this second left her. I think I've got something, Mr. Stroud. Well? The girl this Randolph was with, well, her name is Pauline York. She wants model for Styleways. Patterson recognized her. She was standing outside that antique shop last night when Randolph bought Pearl was with her. I'm going over to see Miss York right now. I'll call you back later. No, no, hey, wait a minute. Hello, hello. Miss Adams. Yes, sir? I'm going uptown. Find Cordette and tell him to take over.

Who is it? This is Mr. Klausmeier. I'm from Artways Magazine. I'd like to see Miss York, please. Why, Mr. Stroud. Hello, Klausmeier. Looks like I got here first. Oh, well, yes, it does. You've seen Miss York, then? Yes, yes, I've seen Miss York. Got all the information we need. Now, let's get out of here. Are we going back to the office, Mr. Stroud? No. Well, well, what did Miss York tell you? Who's the man?

Jefferson Randolph, manufacturer from Pittsburgh. Klausmeier, hop on a plane right away. Find out all you can about him. Mr. Stratton, Pittsburgh? This is an order right for Mr. Janus. Oh, yes, of course. Call me the minute you arrive. I'll wire a thousand bucks expensive. Incidentally, who have you spoken to since you saw Miss Patterson? I phoned you right away. I haven't talked to her soul. Good. Now, there's a cab at the corner. Now, get to that airport. I don't even have a tooth. That's the spirit, Klausmeier. Hey, Mac.

Uh, you the doorman here? Yes, sir. Well, look, for ten bucks, would you happen to know a Mr. Janeth? Mr. Janeth? Yes, sir. Did you see him around here last night? Not before midnight. I go off duty at twelve, sir. Uh-huh. Well, tell me, does Miss York happen to have a maid? Sure, but you won't find her. She started a vacation last Monday. Oh. Well, where would you get a cab around here at, say, oh, one o'clock in the morning? Two blocks east. Oh, thank you, sir.

Here's George now, Earl. He's been out on the case. Well, George, we're making progress, eh? Fine progress. In time, eight hours, in manpower, the efforts of 46 employees. In results, enough information about this man, his whimsicalities, his charming manners, his penchant for green mint stingers and modern paintings to write a biography. Just one thing, George. Where is this man? I don't know, Mr. Janice. You don't know? But I've placed the blind. Her name is Pauline York.

How did you discover that? I just left her apartment. Did you talk to her? I couldn't very well on account of she was dead. Well, that doesn't seem to be much of a shocker to either of you.

George, why do you think we've been conducting this frantic search? How'd you know she was dead? Her maid discovered the body this morning. She telephoned Steve. Steve? Yes. Miss York was a protege of Steve's, George. Why didn't she call the cops? Steve asked her not to. We want to trap Randolph ourselves, big feather in our caps. But what makes you so sure that Randolph killed her? Who else could it be? Well, how about Steve here? She was his protege. Hey.

It's a very strange suggestion, George. But I telephoned Steve at his home last night. I was speaking with him at exactly 12.32. Within seven minutes of the time the murder took place. How do you know? Miss York had her clock on the table. It was broken in the struggle. Oh. Oh, then you've been to her apartment. The maid reported it. What's the matter with you, George? Nothing. I just can't understand why you're both so sure that Randolph killed her.

Suppose an investigation proves him innocent. What investigation? Well, an inquiry around the apartment house. Witnesses who saw somebody else enter or leave. You have such witnesses? No, no, but I'll sure look for them. Unless you decide to let the matter drop. Aren't you going to great lengths to protect this Randolph? I'm just trying to keep an open mind. It almost seems as if you had some inside knowledge of this matter, George. Yes, Gaudette, he's here. You have? Oh, excellent, excellent. Excellent.

Well, George, you can forget about your investigation. We have our man. He was seen entering this building not two minutes ago. Steve, I want emergency orders issued at once. Close the building and block all exits. Nobody is to leave unless identified. Identified? Identified by whom? Why, George, didn't you know? Oh, but how could you know? You just came in the building yourself. Know what? Your very efficient department has found the antique dealer who sold the painting to Randolph. They brought him in an hour ago. Take the dealer down to the lobby, Steve, immediately.

Why don't you tell me Patterson was here? Well, how could I? You've been with Mr. Jonathan Hagen. Well, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Well, it's far more important that I see her than Playhouse in the lobby. Oh, uh, what about the fire escapes, the emergency exits? Oh, God, and nobody leaves except through the lobby. Patterson in my office now? Yeah, with Miss Adams. Well, let me know how they're doing in the lobby. Yes, Miss Adams? Miss Patterson's still waiting, Mr. Stroud. Well, I'm on the phone. I'll be with her in a minute. Hello? Superior Cab Company? Look, I'm trying to locate one of your cab drivers, Casimir Kowalski. Oh? No phone. Well, how about his address?

16 East 31st Street? Thanks. Send her in, Miss Adams. This way, Miss Patterson. Oh, you! Yeah, Mr. Smith's very amusing, really. Pardon me while I laugh. Miss Adams, you better go down the hall and help Fraser on the blackboard. Yes, sir. Well, I'm pleased that somebody likes my work. I've admired your work for years. Well, what am I supposed to do now? That codfish, Mr. Klaus... Uh, Klausmeier.

Oh, yes. Well, he said I'd get $100 if I'd make a sketch of the man who bought my painting last night. And then somebody else called and said he'd give me another 50 if I came down here and identified him. Plus the cab fare. That's $151.55 plus a 10-cent tip. Well, I'll give you a cash voucher right now. Shall I start the sketch? Uh...

That won't be necessary. Oh, Mr. Stroud. I've few enough collectors of my paintings without sending one to jail. Well, this will take some explaining, believe me, but if you... Oh, nonsense! What did you do? Oh, never mind. With all that hue and cry downstairs, it must have been something terribly lauried. But I don't mind. Wait till I tell the children. Children? Yes, here. Here's their photograph. Ugly little cherubs, aren't they?

All these yours? More or less. Now, that one's Ralph's, my first husband. Drank himself to death. And these three are Frederick's. Lost at sea. And these two are Willie's, whom I refuse to discuss. And the twins here are Mike's. Your present husband? Well, he would be if I could find the rat.

Oh! Oh, my goodness, this voucher. It says $500. I said I was an admirer of yours. Oh. By the way, what did you do with my painting? Well, it's quite safe, Miss Patterson. I took it home. Now, look, about the sketch. Does it have to look like me? You know, I've been attracted lately more and more to surrealism, Mr. Stroud. Let me see now.

An electric fan. Exactly. The man I saw last night was an electric fan. Psss, psss, psss. Paper please. Pencil, pencil.

Oh, Helen, I knew you couldn't stay away. Not after what I found in our bedroom. Found in our bedroom? Yes, that terrible painting. Oh, darling, look, Liz, I can explain everything. Look, all I want to know is what... Look, let's go into my office. Oh, no, no, no, I can't. She's in there, Miss Patterson. Who? Who's in there? Oh, never mind. Helen, if you'd only give me...

Yes, Tony? I just got the bartender at the Van Barth. Oh, hello, Mr. Stroud. He says Randolph spilled a drink on the blonde. Fine, fine. Put it on the blackboard. And that she mopped it up with his handkerchief. She put the handkerchief in her purse. George, what if it has a laundry mark on it? What goes the laundry mark without the handkerchief? Huh? Oh, yeah. Okay, I'll put it on the blackboard. Oh, you see what I mean, Helen? I'm going nuts. Take your hands off me, Jefferson Randolph. What? Helen...

I've got to talk to you. I bet you do. All about wrecking an innocent man's life. Listen to me, please. I'll tell you the whole story. But why didn't you go to the police when you found she was dead? And spend the next 90 years in jail? Janet can rig up a dozen alibis. Egan had salad sold to him. So would a dozen others. Me? All I got is myself. What about the taxi driver?

Or did you just invent him? Invent a guy named Casimir Kowalski? You could invent anything. Miserable, desolate, walk the streets like a zombie, and all the time. There you were with that... Darling, look. Listen to me. I know where Kowalski lives. Here's the address. But I can't get out of the building. Now, unless Kowalski comes here and identifies Janet, that antique dealer down in the lobby is going to identify me. George? Yeah, Tony. Mr. Jan just called watching this office right away. Okay. Okay.

Oh, if I ever get out of this jam, I'm going right back to West Virginia. Oh, if I could only believe that. I'll cover church, socials, write obituaries, set type, anything. That'd be wonderful. But you won't. Well, I better see Janet. I guess I'll be back. Who knows? There's no doubt about it, George. That man Jefferson Randolph is one of my own employees. Moreover, he's in this building this very minute.

I want him smoked out, George. Use the guards. Mobilize everyone. Get that antique dealer and start a floor-by-floor search of the entire building. Yes, sir. Put O'Brien on it. He's your personal bodyguard. He ought to be... Not O'Brien, George. You and the antique dealer. Do you understand me? Yes, Mr. Janeth. I understand. We pause now for station identification. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. ♪♪

In a few moments, we'll bring you Act Three of The Big Club. Tonight's guest, Miss Carmen Dorigo, must have one of the most exacting jobs in Hollywood. She's Hairstyle Supervisor at Universal International.

A very resourceful person, Miss Dorigo. Well, each picture presents a new problem, Mr. Keeley. And even a man knows that being a hairstylist calls for ingenuity and, well, patience, doesn't it? More than that. Creating coiffures for the world's most glamorous women is a challenge.

Take the Countess of Monte Cristo, for instance. Sonia Henney's latest picture, in which she proves again she's queen of the ice. Miss Henney's new leading man, Michael Kirby, adds to the thrill, too. He's Canada's former figure skating champion. To see them streaking over the ice together and spinning like mad is sheer delight. So you can guess why Miss Henney's hairdo was a problem. It had to stay in place. And how did you solve the problem? For the Countess of Monte Cristo, we clipped it fairly short and then brushed it into soft, flat curls...

If I do say so. She looked adorable. Perhaps, Miss DeRigo, you'd like to tell the ladies in our audience what you think about hairstyles in general. My feeling is that short hair will be the fashion for at least three more years. As a suggestion for evening wear, those pin-on pieces are wonderfully effective with the current period fashions. But I know Mr. Kennedy will bear me out when I say no matter how fetching the coiffure, the effect is lost unless it frames a lovely complexion. That's right.

So, uh, it must be a great satisfaction to you, Miss Dorigo, to have all those lovely luxe girls to work on. I should say so. Sonia Henney tells me she wouldn't think of neglecting her daily luxe soap facials. Says they give her skin just the gentle, protecting care it needs. Thank you, Miss Carmen Dorigo, for reminding women everywhere of a simple complexion care that really works. A care that nine out of ten famous stars depend on.

There's no doubt that Lux soap facials make skin lovelier. Skin specialists have proved it. In actually three out of four cases, complexions became softer and smoother in a short time. Why not try Lux toilet soap tomorrow? This fine white soap with a delicate fragrance is Hollywood's own beauty care.

Now, here's our producer, Mr. William Keeley. The curtain rises for Act Three of The Big Clock, starring Ray Moland as George and Maureen O'Sullivan as Helen. It's a few minutes later. In a private elevator that has just started up from the milling lobby of the Janet Building, George Stroud faces a terrified antique dealer.

But it is you. You are the man they are looking for. You bought that painting last night in my shop. Look, look, wait a minute. You've got to keep calm now. Take it easy. They said you were an official here. That you... Are you having a thing to worry about? It's just that someone was murdered, that's all. Murdered? Yeah, they think I did it. At least they're trying awfully hard to pin it on me. Murdered? Murdered?

What are you going to do to me? Well, what would you do in a spot like I'm in? It's all for time. Time to get proof that you're innocent, even if it means having to suck a nice little guy like you smack on the button. I'm sorry, pal, but that's the only way out.

Where's that artist? Where is she, Steve? She'll be right in here. She's got that sketch of Randolph about finished. Did O'Brien get back? What about the driver? Did he find the cab driver? O'Brien's back. It cost you $5,000, but the cab driver's leaving town. Goodness, what an artist. Now, which one of you is Mr. Janoff? Just sit down. Give me that sketch. I think I've captured his mood rather successfully, don't you think? Well, here, look.

And just what is this supposed to be? Get her out of here, Steve. The woman's an idiot. Mr. Hagen. Mr. Hagen. Yes, what is it, Tony? The antique dealer. Well, what's he doing here? He says Randolph jumped him in the elevator. I fought. I struggled. No use. He was enormous. Did you get a look at him? Such a face I will never forget.

And that word glared in his eyes. Warn everyone, Steve. Authorize them to shoot if necessary. Tell O'Brien, shoot to kill. And Tony, you get Stroud in here. That's just it, Mr. Janice. Stroud's disappeared. Maybe Randolph slugged him too. Oh, the bartender is here from the van bath. Hold him in the reception room under guard. And find George Stroud. Helen. Helen, in here. What in the world? Where have you been? I've been going crazy. What are you doing in that broom closet? Is the corridor clear? Well, at the moment, yes.

Look, they're all looking for me. That antique dealer, he saw me. I had to knock him out. Where did you go? Kazimir Kowalski, the taxi driver. I went to his house. And? Gone. The neighbor said he came into a sudden legacy. Oh, sure, sure. A sudden legacy from old Grandpa Janice. That's all I needed. Well, I'm going to call the police. And turn me in. Oh, it's better than having you shot. The guards are running around here with guns in their hands, and they've been ordered shoot to kill. Oh, come on. Hagen's office is empty. You go in there.

Oh, why did you ever have to do anything with that woman? I told you I didn't have anything to do with her. There must be some way out of this mess. Oh, give me a cigarette. Well, I don't have any. Isn't that a cigarette box? Take one of Hagen's. Maybe I should go to Janice. Try to make some sort of a deal with him. Here. Here's a cigarette. What's that? It's a handkerchief. What's it doing in a cigarette box? Let me see that.

Well, well. What do you mean, well, well? It's my handkerchief, the one in Pauline's purse. There you go again, Pauline. How did Hagen get it? He claimed he was never up there. Why couldn't we pin this job on Hagen? We'll put him in such a hole he'll have to implicate Janeth. Who are you phoning? Burst Place, a friend of mine. He's always in Burst Place this time of day. Hello? Oh, this is George Stroud. Let me speak to the president. The president? Yes, President McKinley. Now, look here, George, I really... What's that? Interrupt his phone.

Yes? This is Hagen. Cordette just saw you go into my office. Are you looking for me? Uh, yes, yes, Steve. My wife is here, and I didn't want her to... Well, Mr. Janice is in your office, and we want to see you at once. Is that clear, George? Well, I'll be right there.

Helen. Yes? This guy at Birch Place. When he comes to the phone, tell him to get up here as fast as he can. He's a radio actor, a friend of mine. And where will you be? Not in my office. Tell Hagen he don't know where I went. There's a room on the second floor, the place where the works are for the big clock. I'll hide there and wait. Call me when McKinley gets here. Extension 381. All right. Strauss disappeared again, Earl. His wife claims he left my office to come here. I don't get it. 250 people, 12 hours and 43 minutes, and we still haven't found Randolph. Right here, Steve, in our own building. Earl.

Hello? George...

Did you get the president? Yes, yes, he's here now. George, are you all right? I'm fine. Two shots, but he missed. What? Look, there's a conference room on the 16th floor. I'll get up there as soon as I can. George, George, what happened? Never mind. Hello, Prez. I came right over, George, as soon as I could.

Yeah, thanks. Look, we gotta work fast before that thug gets out of the elevator. Who, what thug? O'Brien, Janet's bodyguard. He'll be coming up after me. I just shoved a letter opener inside the elevator door. It broke the circuit. Now, he's stuck somewhere between floors, but it won't be forever. What can I do, George? Will you stay here with me? Helen, find Janet. Janet and Steve Hagen. Yes? Tell them to come in here right away. Tell them I've nailed our man. Oh, my God.

This man, George? Is this the one? This is Jefferson Randolph? No, no. This is Inspector Regan of the Homicide Detail. Mr. Earl Janeth, Mr. Steve Hagen. How do you do? But, George, you said that you had the man. Inspector, would you mind stepping outside for a moment? I give you my solemn word, nothing irregular will occur. That Hagen fellow, George, I've seen him before somewhere. Look, he's editor-in-chief here. Now, stay in the corridor, Mac, till I call you, will you? Right.

And, Inspector George, I thought I told you to keep away from the police. Yes, until we had the murderer. Well, I'm afraid this is going to be a shock. There's our man, Mr. Janeth, Steve Hagen. What? Steve? George, this is a very serious charge. I wouldn't be making it if I didn't have the evidence. Evidence? Why, the witnesses have all seen me. The antique dealer, the bartender, Miss Patterson. Why, they talked to me. Oh, I'm not saying you're Jefferson Randolph, Steve, but I am saying you murdered Pauline York. Why?

Why would I kill her? Blackmail. He's been giving her money by check, Mr. Janeth. The bank will verify that. Absurd. Is it? Cigarette? Not now. Go ahead, Steve. Open the box. You need a smoke. Thank you, no. You're afraid to open the box. Why? Because this handkerchief was in there. Isn't that so, Mr. Hagen? How about it, Steve? The handkerchief that Miss York got from Randolph at the Van Barth. Here. Here.

Notice the green stains. And where would Steve get this handkerchief, Mr. Janet, except from the purse in Miss York's apartment? Did it occur to you, George, that the maid might have brought it to me? The maid's been away on her vacation, Steve. Gone since last Monday, and that's not all. There's a cab driver who took you from Pauline's apartment. I don't seem to see him around, that cab driver. Because he was bribed to go away. But I've got the address he took from you. Got it by phone from the cab company's files. Here it is, Mr. Janet.

3-2-3, Sutton Place. That's Steve's address. There's your evidence, and it'll stand up in court. George, you've had a brainstorm. Anybody could have taken a cab to my address or planted that handkerchief in my cigarette box. As for the maid, I... I think I can produce her if necessary. Earl saw her this morning. Didn't you, Earl? Yes, yes, of course I did. Well, let's see what they say about it at headquarters. Helen, would you ask Inspector Regan to step in? I'm sorry to have had to do this, Steve.

Come in, Inspector. Well, Mr. Stroud. There he is, Inspector. Hagen. Police Inspector, huh? What sort of a gag is this? I've seen this man, Earl, half a dozen times in Burt's place. A broken-down radio actor. George, I'm beginning to get an idea.

Maybe some of the witnesses should get a look at you. Well, haven't they? No, only that crackpot Miss Patterson. As a matter of fact, George hasn't seen one of the others. Only the antique dealer, just before he was slugged. Hey, just a minute, Hagen. Bert's place, huh, Hagen? Did you see me there last night, late last night, when you sneaked that sundial back into Bert's collection? Sundial? Yes, he didn't think anybody saw it. He had it under his coat. The murder weapon, and the witness who saw him try to get rid of it.

Well, I guess that just about wraps it up, Mr. Janeth. Now, suppose we phone for a real cop. George, in a minute, in a minute. Well, now? Steve, I know how you feel about me, Steve. You're the most loyal employee I've ever had.

I'm not going to let you down, Steve. I'll put every resource we have at your disposal. We'll fight this through for you, no matter how long it takes or how much it costs. You're not going to be alone, Steve. Every bit of influence... Mr. Hagen! Mr. Hagen! That's you, Cordette? What is it? Oh, George. Well, we've searched every office now except Steve's and Mr. John's. No sign of anyone. The search is off, Cordette. Send everyone home. Oh, but Jefferson Randolph! We are not interested. Just do what you're told. Yes?

But I'm not going to jail, Earl. You insufferable egomaniac. You thought you inspired such adulation that I'd do anything for you. George, Janeth killed Pauline. You'll swear to that in court? Of course I will. I can prove that he... Look out! Stay there, all of you. I'll kill anyone else who tries to come after me. George, George, no, you heard what he said. Janeth, don't be a fool. Oh, George. George, are you all right? Sure. What about Janeth? Janeth is dead, Mac. Oh.

Cordette, keep them outside, please. All of them. I'll tell you later. Call the police, Mac, will you? Where is he, Mr. Janath? Well, I chased him down to the next floor. He went for the elevator. The elevator door was open a few inches. I told you how I jammed that letter opener to break the circuit. Well, Janath must have thought the elevator was there. He pushed the door open, and that's that. It's him! Miss Patterson, what are you talking about? That's George Stroud. I know, but that other man... Jefferson Randolph? No, he's...

No, no, no. Well, darling? Huh? I guess you'd better call the police. President McKinley is all tied up.

Ray Milland and Maureen O'Sullivan are back at the footlights. And that applause says they're guilty. Guilty of a fine performance. And that's the verdict, huh? That's the verdict, Ray. Then I guess Paramount would never forgive me if I failed to pick up the cue and mentioned that the title of the next Paramount picture in which I act, and I use the word loosely, is the sealed verdict. Paramount has forgiven you.

And now, since Maureen and her husband John Farrow, who directed The Big Clock, took a trip to Ireland after finishing the picture, I think we should get the word on that. Well, is the Emerald Isle still green, Maureen? It was just beautiful, Ray. We took four of the children along to see their grandparents for the first time. Four of them? Well, I didn't know there were more. Oh, yes, I have five. I can't see why anyone would want only four children. Ha, ha, ha.

How this girl must clean up on Mother's Day. It must have been a wonderful vacation. I remember the beautiful Irish countryside. A long, quiet, restful trip. Bill, Bill, have you ever traveled 10,000 miles with four children? No.

Well, I guess I wouldn't know about that. But this I can be sure of. It must have agreed with you because you never look lovelier. Well, thank you. And I hope... Yes, the answer is yes, Bill. I always use Lux soap and I still do. I take it with me wherever I go, even to Ireland. And incidentally, five children can use up an awful lot of soap. Well, I'll see what I can do for you. Thank you.

Well, tell us, Bill, what kind of a show have you lined up for next week? We have a distinguished play and just the stars to go with it, Ray. The play is a screen hit from across the ocean. The prestige production of Noel Coward's Brief Encounter. And the stars, I need only say, they're Greer Garson and Van Heflin.

This is the story of a strange romance. Two people who found love in a chance meeting with a cast a producer dreams about in Greer Garson and Van Heflin. That sounds wonderful. Good night. Good night and come back soon.

Lever Brothers Company, the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday evening when the Lux Radio Theater presents Greer Garson and Van Heflin in Brief Encounter. This is William Keeley saying goodnight to you from Hollywood. Marino Sullivan appeared by arrangement with Paramount Pictures, producers of The Night Has a Thousand Eyes, starring Edward G. Robinson and John Lund.

Heard in our cast tonight were William Conrad as Janeth and Bill Johnstone as Hagen. Our music was directed by Louis Silvers. And this is your announcer, John Milton Kennedy, reminding you to join us again next Monday night to hear Greer Garson and Van Heflin in Brief Encounter.

Rely on Spry, S-P-R-Y. For lighter, finer, richer tasting cakes, Spry tops any other type shortening. Spry's amazing cake improver takes guesswork and hard work out of cake making. Try Spry's one bowl method for glorious cakes. For all you bake and fry, rely on Spry, S-P-R-Y. Be sure to listen next Monday night to the Lux Radio Theater presentation of Brief Encounter starring Greer Garson and Van Heflin.

Stay tuned for My Friend Irma, which follows over these same stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Man lives in a world of time and space. He lives in a spectrum of the universe. When he ventures beyond this limit, he is in the unknown.

A realm where strange forces are brought into play. When man attempts to misuse these forces, he is sometimes destroyed. This is Macabre. The Far East Network presents, in special performance, Macabre. Tonight's story, Weekend. ♪♪

I can hardly stand to think about it. Such a horrible nightmare. I keep telling myself, maybe it'll help to talk. Try to remember. Put the pieces back together again. But the horror and the terror will never go away. The dead cannot come back. It all began, I believe, about two weeks ago. The night of the medical students' graduation party held at the home of my fiancée, Gloria Dubonnet. Ray Stapleton, John Tyler, Gloria and I were the honor guests.

Also, our instructor, the well-known experimental scientist, Dr. Peter Tortano. Tortano and I didn't exactly get along. He suspected I knew too much about the Gaylord case, which connected him with experiments on a hidden island. Also, his unusual interest in Gloria was apparent to me, if to no one else, and formed a further basis for a strong mutual dislike. Tortano didn't think that I qualified as a medical student, but he had to admit I'd passed the exam, so here I was.

The party was in full swing when I arrived. Everyone was glad to see me, except Tortano. Hi. Hi, Chaps. What held you up? No party at all without the three of us together, eh, John? Gosh, no. Hi, Dick boy. We thought you weren't coming. Got to have the old team together before the fun starts. Right-o. Look, you Chaps, come closer. I have a bit of news to tell you. Say, Ray, you sure got the biggest ears in the lot. If there's any news flying around, you're the first to hear it. Shoot. What is it, Ray? It's like this.

Tortano's about to spring a surprise on us. Killing. You know how tight-fisted the old goat is. Well, he wants to do something for his prize grabs. Nothing extravagant. Just a weekend at his place or something like that. What place? I don't know exactly. Couldn't be his small room at the university, so it must be his other deal. Oh, the one on the island? Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. The island? The island?

Gosh, do you really think he'll take us out there? I don't know of anyone who's ever seen it. Now, don't let on. I told you about it. Wow, Totano's island retreat. They say no one else has ever been on the island and that he spends his weekends out there all alone. Doing what, I wonder? Oh, I don't know. If he's working on something, why go way out there? Why not at the university? Fellows...

There's something about that island you should know. Steady, Dick. Here comes that lovely thing you're engaged to. Oh, hi, Gloria. Hi. What took you so long, Dick? I was afraid you weren't coming. You are wood, Gloria. Don't talk. Just dance with me. It's nice to be in your arms again, sir. Yeah. Where's your mother?

In the kitchen fixing refreshments. Dr. Tortano's helping. Oh. Hey, Dick! Aren't you drinking? Huh? Oh, sure. What you got, John? You name it. Scotch and soda? Boy, you expensive. Okay, coming up. Gloria. Yes? Gloria. What is it, darling? I don't know how to say it. I still have my internship and there won't be much money. Don't talk. Just dance.

We'll be married as soon as you like, darling. I love you so much. I say, break it up, you two. You'd think you were the only ones at this party. If you don't mind, I'm cutting in. Oh, Ray. Take your hands off this charming wench, Richard. She's mine for a spell. And thanks for the loaner, fellow. All right, Ray. But only for one dance. The lady is reserved. Boy, does he expect service.

Not only fix his drink, but gotta bring it to him. Thanks, John. And just in time. Here comes Tortano out of the kitchen. I think he's ready to talk. Looks as if he's had a few, too. My friends, my friends may have a quiet for a few moments. I'd like to make an announcement. I'll give you a proper introduction, Doctor.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, I give you a man whose reputation as a doctor of medicine and experimental scientist has astounded the medical profession. Our faithful instructor these past four years, the man of the hour, Dr. Peter Tortani. Thank you. Thank you, my friends.

It has been a most difficult year for all of us. We have worked hard and accomplished much. Now I think it is time to propose a little holiday. So, I am inviting you as my house guests for the weekend. There is plenty of room, ten bedrooms, ten baths,

Three stories. Plenty of space for everyone. Wait a minute. Where is this place? What's the matter, Crane? What are you suspicious of? Where is your place, Doctor? Thirty miles from here. There's a swimming pool, tennis court, golf course. Where is it? Oh, Dick. Please don't be rude. Quite all right, my dear. He has a right to know, and...

It's on an island, 20 miles off the coast. An island? Ideal for relaxation. I assure you, every detail for your comfort has been attended to. I'll bet it has. Well, you can count me out. After four years of hell with you, you'll never make up for it one weekend. Please, Dick. Goodbye. I'm so sorry, Dr. Tortano. Dick's been studying too hard. He didn't mean what he said. Of course not, of course not. He'll change his mind.

The boat leaves at four tomorrow afternoon. I know he won't want to miss our last party together. I knew Tortano better than the others. This was no idle plan. Tortano never wasted time in relaxation. He often said, you have to make every minute count if you want to achieve success. I finally went to my room and to sleep. Hello? Dick, what the hell's wrong? You still in bed? I...

What's the time? Noon, Friday. You'd better get moving. Don't forget the tennis rackets. I told you I'm not... Since, old chap, we've all decided it'll be loads of fun. Just what the doctor ordered. Yes. Well, Gloria... Gloria? Yes, she's going along. She's right here in case you... Yes, sure. Cheerio, old man.

Hi, darling. Pack, we're going to have a glorious weekend. Gloria, you listen to me. Oh, Dick, we need some fun together. Now, if you're going to be an old killjoy, I'll just hate you. Gloria, Tortano is no generous soul. If he invited us out there, he's got a damn good reason. Oh, please say yes, darling. Ray and John want to go. And if we accept, that will make five, and Dr. Tortano's manservant want us make six. What can possibly happen with six of us there? But I...

I can see your mind's made up. Oh, then you'll go. Oh, Dick, that's great. I didn't say I'd go. Oh, now, don't be stuffy. Well, all right. Your heart's set on it. Oh, you won't be sorry. Bye, darling. See you dockside. Yeah, see you dockside. Tartano stood in the bow of the boat like some self-satisfied pine piper. Rain clouds were gathering for a squall as the motor launch streamed through bellowing waves toward an island looming on the horizon.

It was growing dark. A faint light flickered among giant trees taking form in the distance. We landed about six. It was pitch black, but I could tell by the flashlights that we were surrounded by massive oak trees laden with Spanish moss. We followed Tortano down a gravel path toward a large brick structure taking shape in the glow. The storm broke as we reached the veranda. Tortano led us into a stately parlor where Wattas, the West Indian manservant, began to stack our luggage neatly in a corner.

Qantas was a short-weathery little man who never removed the black Quaker hat from his head. He kept glancing back as if he suspected something were creeping up behind him. Well, here we are all safe and sound. Bedrooms are on the second floor. I suggest you freshen up and meet in the banquet hall promptly at eight for supper. Even though we had just arrived, a feeling of uneasiness began to reach the others. There were ten bedrooms divided evenly by a hall running the length of the building. I selected one across the hall from Gloria.

I just shut the door when someone knocked. Dick, may I come in? Oh, yes, Ray. Here's your grip, old man. Want us brought them all upstairs. Mind if I join you? No, I don't. Ah, palace fit for a king. Looks like one of those plantations you see in the flicks. Let this cost the old boy a pretty penny.

You know, I've been wondering, Dick, where Tortano got the money to buy this place? I believe he inherited something from his father. Since he didn't make it himself. Might have. He's a capable man, Ray. He's a doctor, an experimental scientist. Enough money in that, I suppose. Well, ever since the Gaylord case... They never proved anything. Tortano didn't do that. There was no reason for her to die. Even I could have saved her. Dick, don't hold something that may not be true against anyone. I'm not...

It's just a suspicion. Totano knows you suspect him. I don't give a damn what he... Oh, very well. So you dislike each other. Forget it. Let's get ready for supper, Ray. Meet you downstairs. Right, Hal. If it's any consolation, I'm with you on one thing, though. What's that? This weekend out here... Yeah? Can't put my finger on it, but I don't think it was planned for fun.

My friends, I'd like to make a little speech. Excuse me. I am not much with words, just a grumpy little man of medicine. But I always mean well. Now it's been a long and tedious course these past four years. It isn't easy to become a doctor, and the hard part is yet to come for the graduates, that of internship.

where you learn to weigh the actual values, where one slip of the scalpel can mean death or a hideous malfunction of the body or the mind. I welcome you to my island estate. You deserve a rest. So make merry and cast the cares of the world aside. Now to bed, children, to bed. Tomorrow will be a day of tennis, swimming, and fun-making. This will be a weekend you'll remember for the rest of your lives.

Hi. Aren't you sleepy? No. Come in. My bedroom is across the hall. Just wanted to say goodnight. Please do. Gloria. Darling, I love you so much. Let's be married right away. Dick, you're so impetuous. But I accept. Good. Are you comfortable here? Oh, my, yes. Private bath and all. So you have a telephone, too. All the bedrooms must have them.

Well, better leave and let you get some rest. I'll lock your door when I leave. All right. Thanks for dropping in. Good night, Gloria. Dick? Yes? Lock your door, too. Oh, come now. This is a weekend of fun and relaxation, remember? Don't laugh at me, Dick. I'm really just playing it safe. Oh, sure. Good night, darling. Good night, Dick. And please, lock it.

I don't know how long I'd been asleep. It must have been several hours. Something had brushed against my bedroom door. The sound made me sit straight up in bed. Then I heard something else. I thought someone was in trouble. Who's out there? Whatever it was, it stopped outside my bedroom door. I turned on the lamp, jumped out of bed and bolted toward the door. The hall was empty. No sign of anything or anyone.

Was it possible I imagined this? When I turned to close my door, I saw it. A

A dark form bobbing in a doorway at the end of the hall. I say, Dick, is that you? It was Ray Stapleton. Strange sound I just heard. My word, Dick, did you hear it too? Hey, hey, you guys! What's going on around here? Who was strangled? Wow, what a gagging cough! What's the matter? Is anything wrong? Gentlemen, gentlemen! What's the commotion about? You're disturbing the entire household! Now, hold on, Doctor. We were just trying to find out who was doing all that coughing here in the hall a moment ago. Coughing? Nonsense. Must be your imaginations.

You're all here and you look mighty well to me. Wait a minute. Where's Wantus? He's missing. He could be the one. Wantus is standing directly behind you, John. Is there trouble, Master? No, Wantus. Nothing at all. Now go back to your bedroom and remain there the rest of the night. Do you understand? Back to bedroom? Yes. Immediately. Aye, Master. Wantus not come out again.

Good night, master. But Dr. Tortano, the coughing... Strictly imagination, I tell you. But I heard it, doctor, and so did the others. There's no one else in this island. So just who do you think it might be? Yes, I see what you mean. Imagination is a powerful thing. So much so that under certain conditions, strong stimuli can compel you to think you have actually experienced something that didn't happen at all.

Remember, this is the 20th century. We're not in the Dark Ages. No skeletons in the closet or secret wall panels. Return to your rooms, please, and get some sleep. Good night, children. I didn't sleep the rest of that night. I'm certain the others didn't either. They were losing their enthusiasm for the weekend.

The next morning, after breakfast, I went for a walk on the beach with Gloria. It wasn't long before Ray and John caught up with us. Hold on, Dick. I want to talk to you. Hi, fellas. Did you sleep well? Don't rub it in, Dick. Gosh, no. We know you didn't want to come in the first place. That's what we want to talk about. You'd like to give up and go home today. Is that what you mean? Dash, at all, you're making it devilishly difficult. Now, I think we might still salvage a sporting title here. After all, nothing's really happened.

But there's been dissension at this party ever since it started. And now there's a feeling of unpleasantness. We can't leave the island. Juantus took the boat back to the mainland this morning for emergency repairs. And he won't be back until tomorrow. He did. Juantus has the only boat. There's no other way back to shore. So we just have to make the best of it. Dick, I'm with you. I don't think I like old Tortano. Fine kettle of fish. The island's the kettle and we're the fish. And Tortano's the fisherman. Break it up.

Let's go back to the house. I have a hunch. I think we'll soon know what this is all about. Tartano spent the day rechecking his notes and shaking his head. I didn't think him capable of feeling alarm, but his composure was rapidly leading him. We swam a little, played some tennis. By evening, a cloud burst made a valiant attempt to wash the little island out to sea. After supper, a worried Tartano summoned us to the library.

As we gathered, he stood up with an air of uncertainty and started to speak. I wish I could charm you with a graceful speech and make you laugh when I grow tired of talking. I haven't been altogether honest with any of you. I brought you here on the pretext of having a wonderful weekend. That was only partly true. All right, Doctor, tell us the truth. You had better listen to me. There may not be much more time. Last night at supper, I gave you all a powerful stimulant.

I tried to magnify your powers of imagination to the point where fantasy could be made reality by varying the dosages given each of you. The one coming closest to fulfilling the experiment would give me the correct formula balance. An overdose affects the respiratory system in such a way that the victim has periods of convulsive coughing of which he is completely unaware. 24 hours after the onset of coughing, the victim goes mad. And if my notes are correct...

God forgive me. I didn't mean to go this far. Yes, Doctor? If my notes are correct, the victim may become physically anything he might imagine.

The coughing started last night. I can't decide at the moment who may have gotten the overdose. I am also suspect as I too took the drug. There are no guns on the island. No telephone or radio transmitter. And no way to get back to the mainland tonight. So we'll have to remain here. Go sing with your rooms. Bolt yourselves in. Don't open the doors for anyone. Your lives will depend on it. I'm afraid, my children, that before morning...

We may have a madman among us. We locked ourselves in our bedrooms and waited. The others agreed with me. Cortana was insane to invent such a fantastic story. He was the one we should be protected from. We were completely at his mercy. Our only chance was to humor him until Wattis returned with the boat and escaped to the mainland. I must have fallen asleep. The storm had subsided to a whisper. Something had awakened me. What it was, I don't know. I lay there in the dark, scarcely breathing, waiting.

There was no sound of any kind. Could I have imagined it? Maybe I should get up and look. Perhaps something was waiting for me to go back to sleep before attacking. But what? Nothing could have come into my room. And yet, somehow, I felt the presence of something out in the hall. Just some sound, some clue as to what it might be. All I could do was lie here and wait for an unknown thing to happen at any moment. I waited and listened. I knew it was out there.

Then, there it was. My God, I was trying to scratch open my bedroom door. I reached for a bronze poker on the night table, got out of bed, and tiptoed to the door. It was on the other side. I could hear breathing. Don't open the door, I told myself. It's just outside, waiting for me to do that. Even with a poker, I might be no match. Then, it occurred to me that it wouldn't be waiting unless it knew a way into my bedroom. Of course, it was coming in to get me.

What about Gloria across the hall? Had it already been there? I decided to act. You, out there. I'm opening this door. If you're still there, I'll kill you. What's that? All lights are out. Pitch black. Something padded off on four feet. God, it smells like a cat. It's so dark, I can't see my hand before my face. I've got to get across the hall to Gloria. Judging by the way it bounded off, it must be at least 15 feet away. If I only had a flashlight. I can't see a thing.

Easy does it now. Keep the poker swinging in a circle. That should keep it from creeping up on me. Here's Gloria's door. Gloria, open your door. Is that you, Dick? For God's sake, yes. Hurry. Are you all right, darling? I think so. What's the matter, Dick? The thing. It's right across the hall. The thing? Yes. Whatever it is, it's after us. I was afraid it might have tried to get you. Quick, your phone. Where is it? Right by the bed. Oh.

What are you doing? All the others. The one who doesn't answer is out there. Some creature. Is that more light? Oh, yes. Really now? It's the middle of the night. Ray, something's wrong. You okay? Yes, I'm quite all right. Good. Meet me in the library in five minutes. Ray's not the one. Try John next. Maybe. Hello? John, you all right? Oh, hi, Dick. Sure, why? Can't talk now. Meet me in the library in five minutes. Pretty well cinched, is it? Has to be Tortano. He's the only one left.

If he doesn't answer, we'll know. Hello, the dollar here. Oh, no. Who can it be? They're all accounted for. Who the devil is this? Dick Crane, doctor. Meet me in the library in five minutes. Are you crazy? Stay in your room and keep the door locked. There's something fishy and I'm going to find out who's behind it. Now, you be there. If any harm comes to my friends, I'll kill you. Oh, no.

We're not safe to get in the library. And I don't believe a word of your wild story. It's true. One of you tried to scratch open my door. You imagined it, Dick. Here we all are, as chipper as ever. Pretty obvious whatever was supposed to happen hasn't yet. It happened to someone. Impossible. We're all still sane. There's no one else on the island. This took place in your mind, Dick. Oh, no.

Now let's all go back to our rooms and try to get through the night. I'm wasting my time with you. All right, I'll stay with Gloria and protect her. But you'd better lock your doors because someone is going to try them. Say, Dick is certainly overwrought. He couldn't have been right, though, since we're all so healthy. Dangerous situation, us standing here together. Let's return to our rooms. Well, maybe nothing will happen. It could start momentarily. I strongly advise separating immediately. Wait.

Hold out your hands. What? I just remembered. It's been 24 hours. There is a certain symptom at this time. The victim's fingernails will have a bluish tinge. We can tell who it is. Quick, look at your hands. Hold them out. What do you see? Here are mine, doctor. Normal. Are mine okay? Yes, yes. What about yours, doctor? Take a close look. I'd say...

They're all right. That means... Good Lord, it's Dick or Gloria. They've gone to Gloria's room together. We've got a moment to lose. Come quickly with me. Dick, where are you? In the bathroom, shaving. Be out in a minute. Oh, hurry, dear. I don't like being left alone. We're locked in together. No one can bother us now. Oh, Dick, you sound so strange. Please come out of that bathroom. Dick?

Dick? Is anything the matter? Dick? Oh, let go. In this room. Oh, no, no. Not Dick. I won't believe it.

Gloria, Dick, open this door, do you hear? Who is it? Come down now. I'm knocking this door immediately. Oh, where is my key? Gloria, what are you doing? Nothing, Dick. Open this door. Get away from that door, Gloria. My key, where is my key? Oh, here it is. You won't even depend upon it. Open the door now. Oh, Lord, here it is. Just a moment, Dr. Giordano. I'm warning you, don't go near the door. Coming, coming. Gloria, unlock the door. Don't do it, Gloria. Get away from that door. Leave away from me, Dick. Ah!

Gloria. It was Gloria. Don't look, Ray. I tried to stop her. No. That couldn't be Gloria. Not our beautiful Gloria. Whatever it is, it's in peace at last. So is Tortano. Throat clawed out. As if by a lion. Oh!

You have just heard Macabre, a special Far East Network presentation. In our cast were John Buey, Shirley Asche, Walt Sheldon, William Verdier, Milton Radmilevich, and Air Force Sergeant Bob Eddy. Technical supervision by Hiroshi Ono. This is Air Force Sergeant Al LePage speaking. Macabre was written and directed by William Verdier.

Macabre comes to you each week at this time through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. Macabre.

Mind Web. Mind Web.

Welcome to a half hour of MindWeds. Short stories from the worlds of speculative fiction. The story this time is from a book edited by Terry Carr titled On Our Way to the Future. A story that appeared in 1967 in the book New Writings in Science Fiction 10.

It's A Taste for Dostoevsky by Brian W. Aldiss. He was nearly at the spaceship now, had slithered down the crater wall and was staggering across the few feet of broken rock that separated him from safety. He moved with the manic action of someone compensating for light gravity. His gauntleted hand stretched out before him. He blundered clumsily against the outcropping teeth of rock and fell on them. The knee joint of his suit snagged first on the rock, bursting wide.

Still tumbling, the man grasped at his knee, feebly trying to clamp in the escaping oxygen-nitrogen mixture. But help was at hand. They'd been tracking his progress through the ship's viewer. The hatch was cycling open. Two men in spacesuits lowered themselves to the lunar surface and hurried over to the fallen figure. Grasping him firmly, they pulled him back into the ship. The hatch closed on them. The audience applauded vigorously. They loved the old Korn.

In the spaceship cabin, relaxing, the two rescuers lit mescahails and sat back. Eddie Moore sprawled on the floor, gasping. It had been a close one that time. He thought they were never coming for him. Slowly he sat up and removed his helmet. The others had gone by then. There were just a few technicians backstage, clearing up.

Most of the audience had left the big hall now. There were just a few of them at the gallery at the far end, admiring the cleverly recreated lunar landscape. Eddie trudged through the mock pumice, head down, hands in pockets. Looking up, he saw that a solitary figure stood on a ridge of rock, staring moodily up at the fake heavens.

He identified it as Kat Vindaloo, the Pakistani director of their show, and called a greeting to him. Kat nodded sourly and altered his position without actually coming any nearer to Moore.

We went over well tonight. They still pay to come and watch. Your trouble is you're obsessed with being a failure, Kath. Come on, snap out of it. If there's anything wrong with a show, it's that it's too realistic. I'd personally like to see less of a dying foal to end with. Maybe a grand finale such as they'd have had at the end of the last century, with all the crew parading outside the ship and taking a bow. You're beginning to overact again, Eddie. Let me tell you, I'm the only one of the whole damn batch who still throws himself into the part.

Yeah.

I was aware you were unbalanced, Eddie, of course. We all are in this game, and I suppose I may as well confess, since you are bound to forget every word I tell you, that my particularity is suffering any sort of insult people like to heap on me. So that's why I attract your attentions, I suppose.

It's destiny, Eddie, but I fail entirely to see how you mean you are being me. Now, if you don't understand, it's no good explaining. What I mean to say is that sometimes, for days at a time, I think myself, though I'm pure English, to be an Indian like you, living in India. Oh, I am a Pakistani, Eddie, as I have told you many times. You are choosing your own way to insult me again, aren't you? Taking advantage of the fact that I fundamentally have this degrading urge to be insulted?

How can you live like an Indian here? And why should I care if you do? Your life is your own to make a fool with if you care to. Now that I would dispute if you were capable of arguing properly. How far are any of our lives our own? Where do we live? Who lives us? Which is us?

But to pose such philosophical questions to you, that's laughable. I must be out of my mind. The very truest words I have heard from you for months. You're mad. Don't you call me mad. The two tiny human figures confronted each other in the vast, gray, reconstructed landscape. Suddenly, one of them flung himself on the other. For a moment, they struggled together and then fell, rolling over and grasping at each other's throats.

Lost on the ill-lit and broken plain, they became quieter. Finally, one of them rose. He staggered off in the direction of the exit, gaining control of his movements as he went, and then breaking into a run that took him as fast as possible from the scene of the struggle. When he got back to his apartment, he went straight into the little washing cubicle behind the surgery and rinsed his face and hands. He stood there, bent at the basin for a long while,

soaking his cheeks in cool water. Life was such nonsense that the more serious it grew, the harder it became to take it seriously. The more he thought about it, the more amused he became. Funny though it was, this nonsense must be put a stop to once and for all. Clearly, he must go to see Etienne. He rolled down his sleeves, walked through the surgery, down the passage, and to the front door.

He paused. Just beyond the door, he could see the brass plate that announced he was practicing as a dentist. He opened the door. On the brass panel, polished by the concierge that morning, appeared his name, Moray. Beside the panel was a little pasteboard card with his surgery hours and reminders to patients to present their health cards, all neatly written out in French and Flemish.

He strolled down the side street and onto the main road, where the quiet was instantly lost. Taking the undercut, Moray crossed the road and walked a couple of blocks to Etienne's place. On the way, he stopped at a little flower stall and bought her a posy of blue cornflowers. They would soften the blow of what he had to say. You're very late this evening, Eddie. Perhaps so, but why attack me for it?

It's my misfortune, isn't it? Or so I would have thought if you'd greeted me lovingly. Eddie, don't be that way. I didn't reproach you, my darling. She stood on tiptoe, as he had noticed she often did. She was short and very shapely, in a little blue dress that went well with the cornflowers. She looked very sexy standing like that.

Please, come off your tiptoes. You're trying to fool me. Darling, I wasn't. And I swear to you, I didn't even notice I was on my tiptoes. Does it disturb you to see me on my tiptoes? Well, it's not usually reckoned as an indecent posture, but if it offends you, I promise I won't do it again. Now you're trying to humor me.

You know, nothing maddens me like being humored. Why can't you speak to me like a human being? Oh, believe me, if you were a reasonable human being, I'd make every effort to talk to you like one. You're absolutely nuts, aren't you, Eddie? Yeah, you've uncovered my secret. I am nuts. I am nuts. And that's what I wish to talk to you about this evening. Um...

I have to go out almost at once, Eddie. What I was going to tell you, Etienne, darling, what I especially came over for was to say that I feared our engagement must be broken off. It's not so much that we're not suited, although that is a consideration. It's more that I don't even seem to know what century I'm living in. From which it follows, I suppose, that I don't even know what country I'm living in, which in turn means that I don't know what language I'm speaking or what my name is.

In fact, I don't even know what planet I'm on, whether it's the moon or Earth or Mars. Take a look at yourself. Does that look like Mars? You were born on this coast. You know the North Sea when you see it, don't you? Don't interrupt me. Of course I can see it's the flaming North Sea. Well, then, don't talk so stupid. Look, Eddie, I've really about had enough of your nonsense. You come up here every Saturday night and break off our engagement. I do not! I've never broken it off before.

Often I've been tempted to. You do, too. You don't know what you do do. How do you think I like it? I've got my pride, you know. I can take an emotional scene just as well as the next girl. In fact, sometimes I rather think I enjoy them in a kinky sort of way. I am the kinky kind. No self-analysis, please. At least while I'm speaking. Have you any interest in me or haven't you? And who am I? Oh, indeed. Man's eternal quest for identity.

Pity I have to carry mine out with such rotten partners. If you're going to be insulting, you can go, Eddie Moray. I know perfectly well what's wrong with you and don't think I'm not sympathetic just because I don't show it. You've built up that fine little dentist practice just so you'll have enough money to support me comfortably when we get married and the overwork has resulted in brain fatigue. Oh, poor Eddie. All you need is a little rest.

These fantasies about Mars and the moon are just phantoms of escape filtering across your overheated cerebellum reminding you of the need for rest and quiet. You know how damn quiet it is on Mars. Tears filled his eyes. It seemed she really was sympathetic. And perhaps her explanation was correct. He threw his arms around her in perfect forgiveness.

and attempted to kiss her. Do you mind? Your breath stinks of cornflowers. The two vast human figures confronted each other in the tiny, artificial town room. Sparked by sudden anger, he grasped her more closely. They struggled. Nobody was there to see a chair tipped over. And they rolled onto the floor, arms around each other's necks. After some while, they were both still.

One of the figures rose and hurried out of the apartment, slamming the door in haste. Plainly, he was in need of some form of purification.

When it was dark, he changed into clean garments and walked down to the burning ghats. E. V. Morilal prostrated himself for a long while, his forehead to the stone, allowing his senses to go out amid the generations who had pressed foreheads and feet to this slab in the solemn contortions of devotion. But the sense of other human beings was some sort of balm. At last, he rose and walked through the temple onto the ghats.

Here the smells that lingered in the building took on definition. Wood smoke, burning unguents, the moldy Ganges slowly trundling by, bearing its immemorial burden of holiness, disease, and filth. As ever, there were a few people, men and women, bathing in their clothes off the steps, calling on their gods as they sank into the brown flood, restless, unmoved.

Morilal shuffled back and forth among the funeral pyres, some of which were unlit, awaiting midnight, some of which were burned out, the human freight reduced to drifting ash or a bit of recalcitrant femur. His old friend, Professor Chunda Prasi, was walking slowly up and down, helping himself along with a stick. He nodded to Morilal.

May I have the honor and pleasure of joining you, Professor, if I do not interrupt a chain of meditation? Oh, you interrupt nothing, my friend. In fact, I was about to ask if you would delight me by joining me, but I feared you might be about to engage in a little mourning. No, no, I have only myself to mourn for.

You possibly know I have been away for some while. Forgive me, but I was not aware. You recall I greeted you yesterday at the railway station. Have you been away since then? Professor, you are a professor, so you understand many things above the powers of ordinary men such as myself. Though, even as I say ordinary men such as myself, I am conscious of my own extraordinariness.

I am a unique human being. Oh, yes, of course, of course. And the point really cannot be too greatly emphasized. No two men are alike. There are a thousand characteristics, as I have always maintained. Quite so, quite so. But I am hardly talking about a characteristic. If you will forgive my being so disagreeable as to interrupt you when you are plainly just embarking on an interesting, if somewhat long, lecture on human psychology...

And forgive me also if I seem to be talking rather like a Dostoevsky character. It's just that lately I've been obsessed. Dostoevsky, Dostoevsky. Well, naturally I am familiar with the major writings of the Russian novelists, but I fail momentarily to recall which of his novels is set even partially in Benares. You mistake my meaning unintentionally. I'm sure, since a little sarcasm is positively beyond you...

I happen to be in a spot, Professor, and if you can't help, then to hell with you. My trouble is that my ego or my consciousness or something is not fixed in time or space.

Can you believe me if I tell you that no more than a couple of hours ago, I was a Belgian dentist at a seaside resort? Allow me to wish you good night, sir. Professor Giundaprasi, please tell me why are you going so suddenly? You believe you are a white man, a Belgian white man. Clearly you are the victim of some dreadful hallucination brought about by reading too much in the newspapers about the color bar. He pulled himself free from Mortilal's grip.

and tottered hurriedly from the burning ghat. "Congratulations, sir. You are quite right to exercise your freedom of judgment in such matters." It was one of the bathers who spoke. A fat man, now busily oiling his large and glistening breasts. Morilal had noticed that he was avidly listening to the conversation with the professor and had already taken a dislike to the man.

What do you think about it? More than you may think. There are many people like yourself, sir, who are able to move from character to character like birds from flower to flower. I myself, but yesterday, was a beautiful young Japanese lady, aged only 20 years with a tiny and beautifully proportioned body and a lover of 22 of amazing art. You are inventing filth, you fat old Bengali.

So saying, he jumped at the man, who tripped him neatly, but failed to stand back in time, so that Morilal took him with him as he fell, and they rolled together, hands at each other's throat, down the slimy steps into the Ganges. He was lying half out of a shallow stream, under a stone bridge. As he got to his feet, he saw the stream cut through a small country town. The place seemed to be deserted.

so empty and so still that it looked almost like an artificial place. Slowly he walked forward, down the curving street, staring at the small stone houses with their gardens neat and unmoving in the thin sun. As he looked back the way he had come, he saw that he had just passed an unpretentious building bearing the sign, Police Station. For several minutes he stared at it, and then moved briskly toward it, opened the door...

and marched in. What can I do for you, sir? I want to report a murder. In fact, I want to report three murders. Three murders, are you sure? Not really. I don't know whether I killed the person's concerned or not, but it must be worth checking. There was a friend of mine, a producer, and my fiancé, and a black man in India. I can give you the names. At least I think I can remember. Then there's the time and place...

His voice died. He could see it was going to be difficult. His impulse had been to enlist help. Perhaps it had not been a wise impulse. And had he ever been anyone else, or had it all been the product of a fever? You seem to have some very interesting ideas, sir, if I may say so. You wouldn't mind if I ask you a question before you go any further? Good.

Now, you say you don't know whether you killed these unknown persons or not? I get blackouts. I'm never myself. I seem to work through a lot of different people. You'd better assume I did kill them. Well, as you like, sir. Which brings me to my next question. How do you mean one of them was a black man from India? It was as I said. He was very black. No offense meant. It's just a fact.

quite an amusing man. I come to think of it, but black. His clothes were black, sir? His clothes were white. He was black. His skin. Good heavens, man, you stare at me. I suppose you know that the people of India are pretty dark. Their skins are dark, you say? Am I offending you in some way? I didn't invent the idea, don't forget. I suppose it's allegorical. Were the good people being white and the bad black? No, not at all. Though

Though I admit a few of the whites saw it like that. Or did I invent it all? The whole color question. Perhaps it's all thrown up from the depths of my mind. Where I did the murders. I can't have any subjective reality either. Wait, remember, I'm nearly there. Fyodor Dostoevsky, I'm coming! Hurriedly, he punched the policeman in the chest and braced himself for the reciprocal blow.

He was tramping through the sand, ankle deep, even in the main street of this shabby town. In the side streets, the sand climbed almost to the eaves of the shoddy wooden houses. Among the houses were buildings that he identified after a moment's thought as mosques. They were no more than huts with wooden minarets added.

There were tartars here, moving slowly in their costumes of skin, some leading the two humped camels of Bactria behind them through the street. The man with whiskers and a stoop was just ahead of him. Morovitch drew level and looked sideways. He recognized the beetling brow and the haunted eyes set deep in their sockets. "Second-class soldier of the land Dostoevsky?" Dostoevsky stared back at him. "I've not seen you in semi-platins before."

Are you with the 7th Siberian Battalion? The correct answer to that, operatively, is no. I... well, sir, I could talk to you for a moment. The fact is... It's not a message from Maria Dmitrievna, is it? No, no, nothing so banal. In fact, I've come from the future to talk to you. Please, cannot we go to your room? Dostoevsky led the way in a sort of daze, shaking his head and muttering. He was still serving out his exile in Siberia, no longer as a convict...

But as a humble soldier in the army, his present home, to which he led Morovich, was of the simplest. A poor room in one of the small wooden houses, containing little more than a bed, a table and one chair, and a round iron stove that could scarcely heat the flimsy room when the cruel winter came around again. Where do you say you come from? You're not a Decembrist. I am from what to you is the future, sir.

In my age, my race recognizes you as one of the great novelists of the world. By virtue of your profound insight into the guilt always lingering in the human mind, you are one of the supreme artists of suffering. Alas, I can write no more. The old ability has gone. But even now, you must be gathering together your notes on prison life for the book you will call The House of the Dead. The Genyev will say the bathhouse seen as pure Dante.

It will be read and remembered long after you are dead and translated far beyond the bounds of your native Russia. And greater masterpieces of guilt and suffering will follow. No more. You will silence me forever if you speak thus, whether I believe it or not.

You talk like the voices inside me when another attack is coming upon me. I traveled back to you from the far future through a series of epileptic hosts. Others of my kind travel back through other illnesses. It is a matter of what we specialize in.

I plan to travel slowly back through the generations to Julius Caesar and beyond that. But you are a very important landmark on my way, for you are integral to the whole philosophy. The writer rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort and shuffled his rough boots on the floor, unable to look straight at Morovitch. Am I to understand that you are not Morovitch? I have infested Morovitch. We are parasitic.

I'm merely distorting his life a little, as I've distorted the lives of those I infested on my way back to you. Ah, the emotions I have stirred. How you would relish them, Fyodor Mikhailovich.

I have been in all kinds of persons and in all kinds of worlds, even in those that lie close in the probability spectrum to Earth. All, all those worlds, absolutely stuffed with suffering. If you could see them, you might think yourself had created them. Now you mock me. I can create nothing, unless I have created you. Forgive me if that sounds insulting, but I have a fever on me today, which induces me to doubt somewhat your reality.

Perhaps you're part of my fever. I'm real enough. You see, there are more millions of years ahead than you could comprehend. And in those long periods, man changes very radically. In my time, man is first dependent on a milkmeat animal he breeds, a sort of super cow, and then entirely parasitic upon it. Over a millennia, he develops an astounding freedom...

and can travel parasitically back through the generations enjoying the suffering of all like a silver fish boring back through the pages of a large and musty volume. A silver fish who can read, sir, if you follow my image. You see, I let you into the secret. You know I cannot believe what you say, yet tell me no secrets. I already know enough for one man. I'm burdened with knowledge about which I often ask myself, what good is it?

And if it is true, as you say, that I have understanding of some of the dark things in the human heart, that's only because I have been forced, though often I myself was the forcer, to look into the dark things in my own heart. And I have tried to reach truth. You are admitting, aren't you, that you distort the lives you... Well, if I say infest, it's your own word, isn't it? We get more fun...

A couple of days ago I caused a Belgian dentist to jilt his girlfriend. Maybe he even murdered her. We live on the dark passions. The human race always had a morbid tendency that way, you know. So don't think of us as too abnormal. Most literature is just gloating over the sorrows and sins of others, of which you are one of the supreme and most honored exponents. You have the case all wrong, sir.

Forgive me if I criticize by remarking that your attitude seems very perverted and vile to me. I have never reveled in suffering, I hope. Or perhaps I have, who knows? But you must leave me, for I feel remarkably ill of a sudden.

And in any case, as I say, you are wrong. How can millions of years of evolution be wrong in any sense? Man is what he is, becomes what he is from what he was. Strong emotions are a permanent need. I shall come back to see you tomorrow.

And then I shall leave this ignorant tribesman and invest... Well, sir, it will be the greatest connoisseur's treat possible from our point of view. I shall invest you and finally gain new insights into what suffering is like. It was so as to apply, as it were, the guilt to the gingerbread that I called first, so that I may know you inside and out. And I see you are, as you claim, an illness. Tomorrow I will be part of your illness. Yes.

Goodbye, sir, and thank you for your courtesy and evident disbelief. Until tomorrow. He turned toward the door on which the writer had hung a battered painting of a woman. As he did so, Dostoevsky bent quickly down and snatched up the poker from its resting place beside the stove. With a mighty swing, he brought it down across the man's unprotected head, much as Raskolnikov would one day be described as bringing down the hatchet on the old lady's head in Crime and Punishment.

With scarcely a groan, Moravich sank to the floor, one arm sprawling out across the crumpled bed. Dostoevsky put the poker down. Then he began to tremble. The story this time was A Taste for Dostoevsky by Brian W. Aldiss. It appeared in New Writings and Science Fiction 10 in 1967. It is reprinted in Terry Carr's collection On Our Way to the Future.

This is Michael Hansen speaking. The cast included Cliff Roberts, Carrie Frumkin, Linda Clauter, and Ken Ost. Technical production on this program by Leslie Hilsenhoff and Steve Gordon. MindWebs is a production of WHA Radio in Madison. A service of University of Wisconsin Extension. ♪♪

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Welcome, once again, to the Max Ames Mystery Hall of Fame. Here we honor the men and women whose infamous deeds have etched their names on our rolls.

They used blood for ink, the parchment is bleed, passion, terror, and sometimes even love. We have portraits of all of them. John Dumpter, the Boston Strangler, Red Rye, the Cush of Gordian, Richard Speck. They all have a special niche in our gallery. Tonight's nominee for the Mystery Hall of Fame is...

earned his place here through an innovative choice of weapons. Albert Gay didn't use a gun, a knife, or even poison to perform his act of murder. His weapon was truly unique. Here's Max Haynes, North America's leading crime reporter, to tell you about it. Crimes of passion are usually spur-of-the-moment things.

A lover's quarrel, jealousy, an angry word, a spurned suitor, they can all lead to a flash of rage that results in murder. Albert Gay's crime can be described as a crime of passion. But it differs for most in that Gay's act was not the result of an angry moment, but a cold, calculating crime that resulted in a black moment indeed in the history of Canada. Albert Gay ran a jewelry store in Quebec City in 1949. He had a wife and a girlfriend, a common enough triangle.

He also had a burning desire to be rid of his wife Rita. Borsois, being what they were in Quebec at the time, Gay decided to end the marriage in a more spectacular fashion. His prime was the first of its type. Many have used the method since. Gay was the very first, back in 1949. How did he dispose of his wife? You'll find out right after this. People use our money to get the most out of life.

Like a trip too far away Something that you need today Sure would like to help you Make your dreams come true

Come on in to HFC. Over the years, HFC has helped people get the most out of life in many different ways. We'd like to help you too. Household Finance. People use our money to get the most out of life.

Come on in to HFC. Albert, stop it. It's no good. I'll bring you up and see. It's beautiful. It's no good, Albert. I'm not going to see you anymore.

Why didn't you tell me from the beginning that you're a married man? Why? What difference does it make? What difference does it make? When your wife found out about me, what did she do? She went straight to my parents. I got kicked out. So what? I found you a place to live. Yeah, some place. With that fat, ugly woman. I want a life of my own out there. I want to get married someday. I want to raise a family. I'll marry you. Don't be crazy. Oh, Kathleen, you'll never get a divorce.

Even if you did, I still couldn't marry you. The church wouldn't allow it. Oh, there, that's it. We're through. If you've been talking to that damn priest again, I've a good mind to shoot him. Haven't we had enough with you and your shooting? You almost got us both into a lot of trouble with your temper. Putting a gun in a restaurant. That punk was trying to make time with you, and I don't have to put up with that. That's not why you got mad. You got mad because he thought you were my father. I'm not that much worse than you are, Mary. Twenty years. It's no good out there.

I don't want to see you again. Oh, God. Now, there. I'm leaving. I'm flying to Seven Islands on Saturday. I'm going to spend some time with Mama until this whole thing dies down. You're flying to Seven Islands? Yes. I can't stand the embarrassment. Everyone in Quebec City is laughing at me since that fiasco in the restaurant. It's bad enough you're carrying on with that little slut. But when you advertise it all over town, I can't show my face anywhere.

Everyone is laughing at me. A wife can only take so much. And I've had it. I told you that... That thing with the girl is over. Finished. I'll never see her again. You've said that before, Albert. The last time I even went to her parents. But you kept right on seeing her.

No. I'm booked on flight 107 on Saturday, and I'm going. To think things over. You know we can't afford airplane fare. Couldn't you at least take the train? It's only three hours. If you can afford a girlfriend, you can afford my airfare. Besides, I've already bought the ticket.

Oh, there, look. You want the stuff? Ask them for it yourself. I hardly even talk to those people. They're just neighbors. Well, damn it, you've lived beside them for years. They'll do you a little favor. After all, they're in the construction business. They're bound to have a little around. A little? Jez, you can pound of dynamite. What do you need that much for anyway? I told you, Raven, I want to blast a few tree stumps out. Hey, I asked you not to call me that. Everybody calls you Raven and you know it.

Not to my face. If you don't like it, why do you wear black all the time? You look like a great... Fat! Go ahead, say it. Fat. Fat Raven. I wear black because... Because it's supposed to be slimming. I wear it in the ladies' own companion. Well, why don't you just go on a diet? Now, look, are you going to ask those people next door for that dynamite, or have you forgotten something?

Forgotten something? How could I? Every time you want something from me, you remind me I owe you $600. Huh. A lousy $600. What about that gimpy brother of yours? If it wasn't for me, both of you would be collecting welfare. The only jeweler in Quebec City would give that little creep a job. Don't call Jean a creep. And don't forget the things I've done for you. Yeah, like what? Marie. Marie. Why, why, Marie? Marie.

When your wife found out about your affair with a 16-year-old rep and ran to the kid's parents, where did you hide Marie, huh? At the Raven's Place, that's where. The big, fat Raven's Place. Her rent is paid. No, thanks to you. If it wasn't for the job slinging ash, the poor kid would be walking in the streets.

And you almost got a fire from that. Waving a revolver around the place like that. That's none of your business. What about the dynamite? Sure, sure, why not? It's easier than paying you $600. What are you really going to do with it, Lois say? I told you I'm going to blast some tree stumps. Sure, sure, stomp. Look at that. If there is any money in this, I could be a lot of help.

You're going to need blasting caps, too, and, you know, and fuses and... No fuses. I'm going to get your brother to make me a timing device in the shop. Where is that creep anyway? Albea, you want a timing device and dynamite? You're going to have to cut both me and my brother in on this. Oh.

Come on, Gimp. I haven't got all night, you know. Mr. Gay, you say you no call me that no more. Right, right, John. Now move it, John. I've got to get finished by six o'clock. That is delicate work, Mr. Gay. One little slip and we're both in a lot of trouble. Pass me those wires on the bench. Mm-hmm.

Oh, yeah. Here. What'd your fat sister tell the neighbors? Street stumps, just like you say. No questions? No, nothing. Now, about the money, Mr. Gay. We agree on ten thousand. Damn it, man. Pay attention to what you're doing. That stuff's dangerous. Very dangerous. One little slip and then... Boom! Watch what you're doing, Gimp! It is Jean, Mr. Gay. Jean.

Now, this part is tricky, Mr. Gay. If the fingers should tremble just a bit, there'd be a big hole in the street where the shop used to be. Hmm? Hmm?

What about the money? Pay attention to what you're doing. Your hands are shaking. Not very much to me. I am just a cripple with a little future, eh? So, what if I'm not here no more? The money, all right. You'll get the $10,000, you and your fat sister. You'll get it when it's finished. See, my hands, they are calmer already. Hmm?

I just connect this. It's just the clocks, Mr. Gay. It's six o'clock and you're finished? Your wife's little going-away present is ready? Do you want to get wrapped? Yes!

Monsieur, Monsieur, has flight 107 to Bechamel left yet? Fifteen minutes to take off, ma'am. Can I help you? Why, why, um, I want to send this package to Monsieur Alphard Clough of 108 Laval Street in Bechamel. Okay, let's get it on the scale. That's, uh, 28 pounds. Let's see...

Jay Cuomo from Quebec City. That'll be $2.72, please. Would you like it insured? No, no, no, no, no. No insurance. That won't be necessary. Albert, that revolting fat woman over there by the freight counter, the one in that hideous black dress...

She's giving you the strangest looks. Is she another friend of yours? I've never seen her before in my life. Maybe she thinks she knows me from some place. Maybe she bought something in the shop. She doesn't look like the type to buy anything from our shop. More likely stole something from the place. Suspicious to the end, aren't you, Rita Darling? Well, I have to go now. My flight is boarding. I don't know when I'll be back. Goodbye, Rita. Have a nice flight. Bye.

Monsieur, are you sure this package will get on to flight 107? Lady, I'm going to put it on the plane myself. Make it easy. It'll be in Bay Como in less than two hours. Here, let me just... Hey, be careful. This package is delicate. Don't drop it, whatever you do. Attention passengers for flight 107 to Bay Como, please proceed to gate 7 for boarding.

I got it.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome aboard 5107 to 7 Island Bay Como. As we are now cruising altitude, you may smoke if you wish and loosen your seatbelts. Our airspeed is 320 knots and we're flying at an altitude of...

Quebec Airways Flight 107 made an unscheduled stop into the side of Cap-Tormont, Quebec.

Police launched an immediate investigation and discovered the Quebec Airways DC-3 had lost control due to an explosion in the left front baggage compartment. Control equipment had been blasted away, leaving the pilot helpless. The aircraft crashed nose first into the side of the mountain. Surprisingly, there was no fire to destroy the evidence. I've been with the Mounties for 22 years, but this is the worst mess I've ever seen.

How many aboard, Corporal Blair? Well, Captain, according to the passenger list, in the city there were 19 passengers and 4 crew. Now that makes a total of 23. They're all dead. Crash investigators from Ottawa say it looks like there was an explosion on the front left baggage compartment. We found evidence of cordite on the wreckage back there. Looks like someone had a bomb in their luggage. You think it might be suicide, Captain? No, it's murder. Probably a murder for the insurance.

They sell huge amounts of flight insurance in the airport. You can buy a hundred thousand for a couple of bucks. There's nothing we can do about it. Well, maybe it makes our job a little easier. Maybe all we'll have to do is to go through some insurance things. I've got a feeling it isn't going to be that easy, Corporal. We'll get him, Captain. We always do. That's what they say. We'd better get this one fast. He's already killed 23 people. Come on.

Hello?

A luggage and freight bound for Seven Islands and Baycoma was placed into that compartment. The bomb went onto the aircraft here. Right. And I carried the damn thing on. I just can't remember. Maybe this will help. We went over the shipping manifesto. One parcel you sent was shipped from one Delphi's Bouchard of Quebec City to an Alfred Booth of 180 Laval Street in Baycoma. Those names mean anything. Should they...

According to our investigation, they're both false names and addresses. But you carry that package to the baggage compartment. Here. Maybe this will help. The parcel weighed 28 pounds and the freight charge was $2.72. No, no, no. Wait a minute. That fat woman. Yeah. What fat woman? Oh, she was ugly. Yes, I'm certain of it. She was jumpy, too. And all dressed in black like some kind of female mortician.

Oh, my God! What is it? She gave me the thing. The parcel right here on this counter. I picked it up. It was wrapped in that brown paper like the butchers use. Slippery stuff. I almost dropped it. Right here. I could have killed myself. And half the people in the air terminal. Where did she go? Try to remember. I watched her go out the door. She was so big and fat, I could see her all the way down to the cab stand. Cab stand. Are you sure? Positive, Captain. In fact, she got into a yellow cab. The cabbie had to help her in. She was so fat. Oh.

I can't live with this. It's terrible. I keep thinking of all those cruel people. 23 people. I can't sleep and I can't be there. Good. Maybe you'll lose a few pounds. If you're 60 pounds, you look like a human being instead of a mountain. I bear. You're going to be so cruel. 23 people. Including your wife. 23 people.

Well, look, I'm not all that bad. I brought you something to help you get over your conscience. Sleeping pills? There's 200 in that bottle. You can sleep for as long as you want. You swine! Now I kept my part of the deal. You got your money. You and your gimpy brother. Ten thousand dollars. Well, it's not enough. I will ask the insurance or I go to the cops. You've got all you're going to get.

And there is no insurance money. No insurance? What do you mean, no insurance? You think I'm an idiot? The first thing the mommies will check is the insurance. Oh, give me those bills. You pig. This is the place, Captain. The cabbie remembered the woman because of her size. Interesting. Now, the Quebec City Police say it's the same address as Marie Robitelle.

The waitress that was involved in that gun incident a couple of weeks back. That's the one. Her boyfriend got jealous and pulled a pistol on a guy. What's the connection? Her boyfriend is a man called Albert Gay. And he's 20 years older than Marie Robertel. Ah. Married man? Not anymore. He's a widower now. Recent? As recent as 11 days ago. His wife was on flight 107. Let's go talk to that fat lady in black. ♪♪

Doesn't seem to be anyone in. Door's open. We've got a warrant. Come on, Coughlin. Wow. Look at the size of her. Nassed out. Drunk? Probably. What's this? Sleeping pills.

Hey, quick. Call for an ambulance and help me get her to a seat. Come on. Here. Go. And stop. No, no, no, no. Let me sleep. I'm so tired. Pray let me sleep. Come on. Get to your seat. Come on, Corporal. Hurry. Where am I supposed to grab her, Captain? Just help me. Ten men. Couldn't lift this Lord of a... Lift, damn it. Lift. If she dies, so does our cakes. Right there. She's on her feet. Stop walking. Captain. Captain.

I can't hold her. She's falling. Captain, get her off of me. It's watching me. Please, I can't breathe. You might as well come clean, Gabe. We got a full confession from the Raven. She said it was all your idea. All she did was deliver the bomb to the F. She swore she wouldn't do that.

I don't deny I knew about your plan. You're a stupid brother. They cooked the whole thing up. It had nothing to do with it, I swear to you. That's not what the brother says. He claims you paid the two of them $10,000 to help you destroy your wife and the airplane. Lies, lies, all of it. I'm an innocent man. That fat pig hates me. She's trying to frame me. She knew I was special to Marie. She knew I loved my wife. She hates me. Do you understand? She hates me. Then why did she blow up the airplane? Why not just blow you up? Because... Because... Because she's crazy. She's crazy. Captain. What is it, Captain?

Did Albert Gay make an appointment with the hangman?

You'll find out after this. People use our money to get the most out of life. Like a trip too far away. Something that you need today.

You would like to help you make your dreams come true? Come on in to HFC. Over the years, HFC has helped people get the most out of life in many different ways. We'd like to help you too. Household Finance. People use our money to get the most out of life.

Come on in to HFC. You're here. Not a minute, Lou. I thought for the longest time I might not have to meet you. But, say, Libby...

You don't say much, do you? You want my hands behind my back? Okay, all right. I won't be any trouble. Your job's tough enough. Well, shall we go? Look, I know I've been saying I didn't do it. But what the hell? I don't want you to think you're hanging an innocent man.

Look, could you do me a little favor?

Will you say hello to them for me? When their time comes? Did the Raven and her brother meet the hangman? The curator of the Mystery Hall of Fame has the answer for you.

Marguerite Petrie and her brother Sean followed Albert Gay to the gallows with an alien. All three occupy a special place here in Hall of Fame. They were the first to use an airplane as an instrument of mass murder. Their crime has been a dreadful inspiration for today's international terrorists.

This concludes tonight's ceremonies in the Mystery Hall of Fame. Be sure to be listening for our next induction into these infamous co-actors. Remember, it may be someone you know. This is J.F. Searle concluding tonight's chapter featuring the Vincent Marino players. Richard Alton, John Bayliss, Judy Cameron, Len Doncheff, James Woxley, Nicole Moran, Dina Saxer, Colin Shaw, Steve Purdy.

Written by Tom Peacock, directed by Vincent Marino, executive producer, Graham Thrasher. Produced by Bob Lehman at IPS Studio.

Thanks for listening! If you like what you heard, be sure to subscribe so you don't miss future episodes. If you like the show, please, share it with someone you know who loves old-time radio or the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me and follow me on social media through the Weird Darkness website.

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I'm Darren Marlar, thanks for joining me for this episode of Weird Darkness' Retro Radio. 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 stream. It's Saturday, December 28th at 5 p.m. Pacific, 6 p.m. Mountain, 7 p.m. Central, 8 p.m. Eastern. On the lighter side, I'll also be responding to comments and questions live on the air and doing a giveaway of some Weird Darkness merch.

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