What If You Woke To Discover You Were BURIED ALIVE? 11 #RetroRadio Stories! EP0271 #WeirdDarkness
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Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness' Retro Radio. Here I have the privilege of bringing you some of the best dark, creepy and macabre old-time radio shows ever created. If you're new here, welcome to the show! While you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, sign up for my free newsletter, connect with me on social media, listen to free audiobooks I've narrated, visit other podcasts I produce.

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

Come in. Welcome. I'm E.G. Marshall. The thought has been phrased many ways. Sir Walter Scott's will serve for this story. But come he slow or come he fast, it is but death.

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

Jeff, will you mind your own business? I'm going back to the inn and Herr von Dorn is driving me there. Get out of that car now. I'm warning you. Warning me? Of what? Okay. You asked for it. This character you're chasing around with... Chasing around? I've had it. Let's go, Hendrick. I'm not going to listen to any more. You listen. Lay off this guy if you know what's good for you. He's a murderer.

Our mystery drama, The Mills of the Gods, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Ian Martin and stars Joan Copeland and Tony Roberts. It is sponsored in part by Buick Motor Division. I'll be back shortly with Act One. Act One

Paris in the summer is just as gay and just as lovely as the spring. But like most big cities, it is hot and it is crowded. Not so much with Parisians as with tourists. The bulk of them, as always, American. But there are other Americans in Paris, too. And if they are old hands looking for a familiar face...

They head down the boulevard Saint-Germain at the aperitif time for Les Deux Magots, the sidewalk cafe that is the crossroads of the world. Dick! Jeff! I can't believe it. You're the last person I expected to find here. And you're the last I expected to see. Why? Didn't Val tell you? What? Murder is hot.

Just let me get something cool. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Didn't Val tell me? No, but I was coming back from the Mideast. Oh, well, she couldn't very well. Neither one of us have been in Paris. I went down to Antibes for a week to get out of the heat, and Val left nearly a week before me. Left? For where? Oh, some little hotel at Skavannigan. Den Haag? Yeah. Holland? Wait a minute, that doesn't make sense. What do you mean? I've been writing her every day, and I've gotten replies, and...

They were all postmarked from Paris, here. Oh. I thought she was at the flat. What'd she go to Holland for? Oh, I don't know. Get away from the heat, I suppose. And Skvenigin's got a gorgeous beach. Yeah, but she doesn't have any friends there. Look, my sister has friends everywhere. And she didn't expect you to bust out for at least a month. Roving TV correspondents are about as reliable as the weather report. I know. Except, uh...

I have big news. I'm going home to the States to be second banana on the New York WBS team. Ah. I'm a success at long last, and I came back with wedding bells jangling in my ear. What do you know? She's going to flip when she finds out she wasn't here to greet you. You got her phone number? No.

Ah, wait a minute. Let me... If we get back to the apartment, I can give you her address, and you can write her. I'm going to do a hell of a lot more than that, brother-in-law-to-be. I'm going to go join her at Skiviningen just as fast as I get that address from you. There's something out of whack about this whole thing. You'd have to know Val as well as I do to understand why I was worried. I mean, really worried.

First off, she's the most honest, open person I've ever known. Sometimes too much for her own good. And then she's reckless with herself. I mean, you don't become one of the world's top downhill skiers with two Olympics behind you without being that. And that's where I met her. Skiing. Of course, I'm not in her class at skiing, anyway. Also, she's rich. I mean, really rich, which is the only thing... Well, it's the main one, anyway, that's held up our marriage.

But there are a lot of guys in Europe who don't have the same scruples and are after rich wives who also happen to be beautiful. And last of all, I'd been away from her for too long. Well, at least the concierge cleared up the mystery about the letters. No, he didn't clear it up at all. He only made it worse. Why would Val have been sending him letters in an envelope addressed to him...

To mail to me as though they came from Paris. I don't know. You got me. Doesn't make any sense. Look, just give me that address so I can find out. Right, right. It's right here on my desk somewhere. Oh, this desk. Yes, yes, here it is. Hotel Maduroce. Now, why couldn't I remember that? Any idea where this hotel is? Oh, no. Beach stretches for miles. Most of it's lined with them. Why don't we try calling her? It must have a phone. No. No.

Jeff, look, nothing's gone sour between you two, has it? Not as far as I know. But there's something about the picture I don't quite like. One thing about your sister, she kind of stands out in a crowd. She won't be hard to find. The hotel turned out to be small and far to the south.

But it led me to where I'm standing now, on a sand dune just outside Zandvoort. It's a high, clean summer day with bright sun and glorious blue skies. But for me, everything's outlined in burning red. And the sand stings against my eyes. For at this moment, now...

I'm watching the woman I love, Valerie Reynolds. The afternoon sun silhouettes all the long, clean lines of figure, tall and slim next to the big, powerful, bearded man beside her. And then, as I watch in what seems agonizing slow motion, they turn towards each other and I see Valerie, my Val, take his hand.

Valerie. Yes, Henry? You are so incredibly lovely. Desirable. I adore you and you are perfection. But, but you know that. Oddly, if I were perfection, I wouldn't be a real flesh and blood woman. And if I weren't a woman, how could I be in love? With me.

Oh, please. Let me go, Henry. Why, have I... Have I said something wrong? Done something? Scarcely. At least not yet. Then why... Why do you resist? Ah, how stupid of me. Of course, I have been in too great a hurry. Rushing things...

It is a matter of time, no? No is right. It is more a matter of time since we're not dressed to swim. How? The next wave or at least the following one and we'll really get our feet wet if we don't move.

The tide's coming in fast. Shall we go? You are right. And it is the next. Run, Valerie, run. I'll race you to the dunes. And if I catch you? As we old Yankees say, first catch your fish and then...

Are you all right? Did you turn your ankle? No, no, I'm fine. I just stepped in a hole. Would you help me up? No, no, I have a better idea. Look, we are beyond the tide line. I'll join you. Sit beside you. The sand is warm. The sky is so blue. Maybe I will just lie here a moment.

How beautiful you are. Between the wind and the sand, I'll bet. Like some Greek nymph washed shoreward by the restless sea. Love words. Challenging. Enticing. Like your music. You make more music for me than I ever can from the channel. My words are all of love.

We were speaking of love, remember? Yes. And my question still remains unanswered. I love you. I love the sea, the dunes, and the feel of the sand warm against my back, and the wind washing the sun gently across my face. What do you think has brought me here every day, away from the beach crowds at Svenningen, the noise, the laughter, the parties? You still haven't answered me. No.

And the eternal question... No, no, no. Don't say anything, Henry. Let me. I came here that first day because I love the dunes and the sand and the sea and the silence. And then, walking along the sea's edge, the wind brought me...

Your music. A real fire and song drifting on an offshore breeze from your old windmill. And I crept into the shadow of the dunes to listen. Transfixed. Unseen. A little drunk on the music you can coax from that piano. No, no. Not unseen. I saw you come day after day. My feet and my heart kept leading me back. I wanted to call to you, to come to you.

But each time when I left the piano, by the time I reached the ground floor and onto the beach, you had vanished. Almost like a dream. Until today. When I left, you were waiting. And we said hello. And walked towards the water. And suddenly we were hand in hand. I am in love. With me. Well, for the moment, in love with love. Isn't that enough? We could start to find out.

Kiss me. No. Why not? This is a little public, isn't it? There's no one to see or care about us. I'm afraid you're wrong. Way down there up on the dunes, the two figures. Where? Oh, yes. Yes, you are right. But why should they care anything about us? I'm sure they don't. But what we have, I care about.

It is for us alone. Don't get up. Don't leave. Today I must. You and I, we will make a private meeting. Just for the two of us. We will be alone. Walk me to my car. Far away from the dunes, I've watched Val and this man. I don't need to hear any words to know it's a love scene. He's there in every gesture and every move. I'm sick to my stomach with disbelief. I never dreamed that I would really...

Lost vow to another man. And for the first time in my life, now, I have the unbearable feeling of being absolutely alone. The lady is a friend of yours? It's a voice out of nowhere. I turn. Belongs to a small man in an ill-fitting, old-fashioned English walking suit. A pair of binoculars in his eyes. He lowers them and come towards me.

limping slightly on his right leg as he repeats. Mille pardon if I intrude, but the lady is a friend of yours? Yes. Under the circumstances, maybe I should say was. Ah. L'amour, monsieur. Man's escape from reality. The great illusion. What? The trap. Love. It is a veritable trap.

Monsieur will observe that I am a bachelor. So? The only safe condition. Monsieur, do me a favor. But of course. Would you mind taking yourself and the philosophy course and blow? Blow? Scram. Make yourself scarce, Alibouzo. Oh, yes, yes, yes, of course. But first, monsieur, just one more thing. Your young lady...

She needs help. Not from me. Not this time. Not ever again. She made this bed herself, so let her lie in it. Even if she is in grave danger? What danger? This man. Take it from me, I know. To my certain knowledge, he is responsible for the deaths of at least three young women. In short, monsieur, this is not a man. He is a murderer. He looks up at me, this little man who has materialized beside me from nowhere...

His eyes quizzical and as brightly black as a bird's. I have no idea who he is, but something about him, somehow, makes me know that he's telling me the truth. And suddenly, I find myself running across the dunes, running to intercept them and ready to do battle with this stranger who has stolen my love from me. Well, now, here's a nice tangled little web to unweave with all the classic six questions on murder.

Who is the little man with the limp? What is Hendrick Van Dorn after? Why has Valerie forgotten a man she so recently planned to marry? How is the murder to be accomplished, if indeed it is planned? And where will it be, or when? I'll return shortly with Act Two. Act Two

As Valerie and the big bearded man walk slowly from the beach up on and over the dunes, they are slanting away from the running Jeff, unaware of his approach. Then, as they clamber up to the road on top of the dike, Hendrick is obviously urging her back to his windmill.

But Valerie turns resolutely towards her small sports car, parked precariously on the inner edge of the dike. But I want to show you the inside of my hideout, my sanctuary. Come to my studio. Inside the windmill, I will play for you. I'm dying to see your studio and the inside of the mill, but...

Today I have a luncheon appointment at my hotel and I must get back. Then allow me to drive you there. Oh, no, I wouldn't think of it. It must be two or three miles. It is a lovely day and I enjoy a good walk back, more exercise. Am I that important to you? Oh, in fact, I shall insist. Unless you can assure me that I don't have a rival. Oh, I can assure you, Hendrick, you have no rival. There's no one I'm more interested in than you.

Then, uh, when can we be alone together? Shall we make it Sunday, two days from... Val! Val! Here comes a young man in a hurry. He seems to know you. Val! Donnie! Wait! Why don't you wait for him? He seems to know you very well. I thought you said... Shh! Well, for heaven's sakes, Jeff Garrett! Where on earth did you pop up from? What are you doing here?

A few minutes ago, I... But I was asking myself. Well, this is a surprise. How are you? You're looking well. Frankly, I wish I hadn't been. Hadn't been what? Looking well at the two of you.

Oh, I'm sorry. I don't believe you two have met. Hendrick, this is Mr. Jeff Garrett, roving TV correspondent for World Broadcasting back in the States. A very brilliant young man. Jeff, this is an equally brilliant pianist, Hendrick Van Dorn. Pleasure to meet you. I'm glad you think so. Well, the pleasure isn't returned. Jeff! Move over, Val. I'm driving you back to the hotel. Just a moment. I believe you are mistaken.

I think Miss Reynolds prefers to have me drive her there. Not on your life, bud. Jeff, what's the matter with you? Have you lost your mind? It seems to be about the one thing I haven't lost. Don't talk silly. Then you stop acting that way. I think you're the one who's acting out of turn. In what way? As if you owned me.

Haven't I been given every reason to think so? Oh, all right, that's enough. I'm going back to the hotel, and Herr Van Dorn is driving me. Get out of that car, or move over. I'm warning you. Warning me of what? This character you're amusing yourself with. Amusing myself? Okay, brother, I'm not listening to any more. Oh, you'll listen to this. Now lay off this guy if you know what's good for you. He's a murderer. A murderer?

Oh, well, now, that really tears it. Hendrick, please, get in the car. If you don't believe me, look at his face. If that doesn't convince you, ask... Get in, Hendrick. Ask who, Jeff? The little guy back there, the one with the limp. Hey, what happened to him? Where'd he disappear to? I don't know, but I suggest wherever it was, you beat it there, too. Oh, wait a minute, Val. Why don't you pay attention to me, you fool? Get away from me. There's never been anything between us, and I never want to see you again.

That's really the way you want it. How else? That's just the way I want it. You've almost spoiled everything for me. Please, let's go, Hendrick. Your wish is my command. Well, Valerie. Well, Hendrick. I thought you said there was no one else. There isn't. And this Jeff.

He seemed to think... Oh, he's a fool. He follows me everywhere. He has this big thing for me. I can't get rid of him. He's just a drag. I mean, he's a nuisance. He doesn't mean anything to me. But from the things he said, the way he spoke... I told you, he's a fool. So, bon.

So, I am still to expect you on Sunday. Of course. What could have changed that? Many things. But I've told you that he doesn't mean anything. Yes, yes, the American. Well, I've forgotten about him, but not something he said. What, Henry? Valerie, that is not my real name. You see, what your countryman said of me is in a way true. Three months ago, I was tried for the murder of my wife.

In Paris. I am French. My real name is Jean Rochelle. I know. And you were acquitted. You... But of course. It was quite a lurid trial. What you would say in America, a three-ring circus. I suppose you must have read of it. I did. And still you are not afraid of me? I came to Paris for the end of the trial. I saw you in the court and I...

You literally swept me off my feet. I knew you were innocent. You knew? That was what the court found you. She shot herself accidentally, didn't she? Yes. Yes, poor, poor Eve. For a long while I felt it was my fault that I should have left her loaded gun while I was away for a few days. It was stupid of me. I was only anxious to protect her.

I adored her beyond life. Everyone knew that. Every woman in that courtroom did. Everyone was on your side. Oh, not everyone. One is tried, placed in the dock. And the stigma still clings. That's why I fled here, to Holland. To my lonely windmill retreat, where we had been so happy together. I thought this beard would help you to...

But even here I am found out and the gossip will begin again. I won't start it. Thank you. I'm surprised you recognized me. You could never hide from me, Hendrick. You see, I use your new name for a new life. When I found you on the beach and recognized you, I felt perhaps we could start one together and make this one a good one. Valerie. Valerie. Valerie.

I said I loved my wife, but I feel now I never knew what love meant until I met you. We'll find out. Well, here's the hotel, Henry. I hate to think of that long walk back for you. A dream. I will be walking on air.

Bonjour, mademoiselle Reynolds. Excuse, you will pardon my presence in your room uninvited, I hope. How did you get in here? In my profession, one has ways. Unofficial sometimes, but as you see, effective. Who are you? Permit me to introduce myself. Inspector Michel Beauvais, Paris Police. My credentials, here.

Oh, the surety. Of course, the little man with the limp. Pardon? You were the one who told Jeff that Hendrick was a... Oh, that Hendrick Van Dorn, as he calls himself, was a murderer. Correct? But why did you disappear? Well, one must observe, mademoiselle, that I am known to this man.

He must not see me. But it is of the utmost importance that I see you. Therefore, my unwarranted presence in your room. You see, we must talk together, you and I. What is it we have to talk about? Oh, about your safety and a very dangerous man. Hendrick? Hendrick. Why so dangerous? Didn't you police acquit him? The courts, mademoiselle, not the police.

And only this murder. There have been others? Alors, I have only admiration for you, but let me tell you of this man. He has a magnificent talent for the piano, vraiment. And he is an heroic figure, sans doute. For years, he has used these gifts to trap, shall we say, at the least, trusting women.

First, money and jewels, and when that is not enough, marriage, settlements that make him the one to inherit. And then, unfortunate accidents. Three times that we know of, he has been married. Three times a grieving widower. And each time, he is left richer than before.

That's incredible. Why haven't the police managed to... But the police, mademoiselle, unlike Hendrick or Jean Rochelle, or however you call him, are only human. He is very careful. This last time we actually thought we had him trapped, but enfin, alas, he slipped our noose again. What matters is that I am here to warn you. He is a vicious man.

Murderer. You don't have to warn me. I know. Ah, you know? Now it is my turn to talk, Inspector. You see, this last wife of his, Eve Stallings, was one of my best and closest friends. We grew up together. We went to the same schools. We skied together. We...

We were as close as sisters. Now, I was back in America because my father was very ill, but I knew that Eve had flipped over this Jean Rochelle. And it wasn't until I was coming out of the sadness after my father's death that I heard about her death and the trial. I left for Paris immediately. But why? Because I wanted to be a witness. I knew Eve could never have killed herself. Why?

So you believe, as I do, that this was no accident? Knowing that. How can you risk your life with this man you believe murdered your friend? He likes attractive, young and rich women. I am young, I'm attractive enough, and unreasonably rich. And you had some idea of taking the law into your own hands? I...

I can't tell you exactly what I had in mind, but I knew from a letter I'd gotten from Eve that they had this little hideout in an old mill at Sunfort. Uh-huh. And the authorities seemed to be letting this louse get away with it. So while I was waiting for the man that I loved to return from the Middle East, I thought I'd try to measure up for Eve's sake. What was your plan? To rope him in if I could first, and then... And then what? What?

When the whole Paris Sûreté, the police, had failed, how did you hope to succeed? Well, I might be able to make him confess the truth. Could we not work together, you and I? That brings me to a question of my own. What are you doing here? Like you, I am unsatisfied by the turn that justice has taken. Besides, it is my vacation.

I am a bachelor. No ties. But no jurisdiction here in Holland. No, no, none. My hopes are as flimsy as yours. Until now we have met. Now I think together we could trap him if you would risk it. I do not think you have to fear him so much if you are not married to him. Married to him? I don't think that's Hendrick's general notion. Oh, but of course it is.

Do not delude yourself for a moment he has not recognized you. You satisfy the two cravings of his soul. Soul, if he can be said to have one. What? You are very beautiful and very rich. Parbleu, you are the perfect piece of cheese to catch a... Mademoiselle, will, uh, comment dire, forgive the figure of speech, huh? If I looked strange, it wasn't because of that. It was Jeff.

The Ed Strong young man I met earlier. I've hurt him so terribly. How can I find him to explain? Don't worry, don't worry. You must allow me to do that. No, no, no. I want to do it myself. Now, trust my instinct in this, please. For once, it would be better for a policeman to do it than a woman, even one so desirable as you. Now, let us make our plans together how we must trap this rat.

So now, all of our questions have been answered except or if a murder is to be committed. Or rather, how it may be prevented if the rat is not deceived by either the lure or the trap. As I said in the beginning, this is a story of a headstrong girl. Let's hope she's strong enough not to lose her head. I'll return in a moment with Act Three. Act Three

It's Sunday at the old windmill on the beach. A day of peace and quiet and tranquility. The breeze off the water under cloudless skies is less than five knots. Outside, the veins stand fixed, unmoving. Inside, although the owner is not presently there, there is considerable activity in the top or attic floor.

Okay, Inspector. Look, here are your microphone wires. Lead them over here to the receiver. I don't know why I ever agreed to this with you and Val. No wonder she was afraid to let me know what she was up to. It's crazy. Ah, why, Monsieur Jeff, it is perfect. Here we are on the third floor of the windmill. Exactly below us is Hendrick's living quarters, which as soon as I attach, these last wires are totally...

And if there is any danger, we are one flight of stairs away. No, it's my girl who might be in danger. It's not yours. Oh, but she is armed, and so are we. Today, he is not interested in money or jewels or annuites. The factors of his own peculiar profession today is only for the woman herself. Huh?

for love. Well, that gives my morale a real lift. Is this electronic apparatus really going to work? You should know. You are on TV. I'm on camera, not off. I'm no engineer. Be of good heart. Why don't you descend for a moment and make a test so I can be sure? You're too right. This has got to be it. All right. Now say something. Not too loud. Standing in the middle of the

Walk around the walls. Keep talking. Three, testing, testing. Can you read me? And if you can't... Come upstairs now and close the door at the bottom. Well, it works. Oh, like a charm. And you sing very well. Look at the time. Check and see if they are coming. They should be here any minute. Do you see any cars on the dike?

It's kind of hard to see. One arm of the damn windmill stretches right across the window. But you can see through the weather vanes? Sort of. Uh-oh. What is it? Looks like his car. Yep, they're almost here. Eh bien, from now on, we must be as quiet as the grave. Jack, I just wish as long as you're showing off your English, you'd picked another figure of speech.

Enter my castle, Valerie. Oh, it is like a castle. Medieval. The Dark Tower.

What's this? The dungeon? Nothing so terrible. This is where they put the flour in the bags. And that great wooden chute that comes down from the ceiling? The millstones ground the grain and fed it down that chute as flour to be bagged. Oh, it's a strange musty smell. Upstairs. We will be away from it. Come, come. There are hundreds of old flour bags dried out and rotting away. I keep meaning to have them moved. They are a real fire hazard. Oh, these stairs.

They're never-ending. I must apologize for my strange quarters. I think it's exciting. It's romantic. Oh, excuse me. This is my studio and my living quarters. You will find it more comfortable, I think. Oh, oh, it's so wonderful. And how unique. So those are the millstones...

Oh, this one from floor to ceiling. It must weigh tons. How does it work? Oh, there used to be a grain elevator that brought the rough grain up here and threw a chute so it passed between the big turning stone and the other beneath it on the floor. I cleared everything out but the stones. Did the stones still turn? I'm afraid not anymore. The sails are long ago rotted out from the veins. You know, the big arms that caught the wind. And the

And the machinery is old and rusty. Oh, it's just... It's fascinating. I'm glad you find it so. You don't? That was yesterday. I am more interested in today. I find you more fascinating. In time, Hendrick. In good time. Yes, but I promised to play for you. What would you like to hear? I leave that up to you. Play as you feel. As I feel.

Then it must be this. What's going on down there, Inspector? For the love of... Shh!

There is nothing to worry about as long as he is playing the piano. I can't stand it. I mean, we've got to do something. We have, monsieur. We are waiting. How long? Who knows? The trap is bedded. We are waiting for the rat to make himself ready to bite. Lovely. Yes, lovely. Enchanting.

Unbelievable. What music? Not the music. You, Valerie. I adore you. Beyond reason. And I have to know. To know? What? What I asked you on the beach two days ago. Do you love me? That's so hard to answer. Why? I don't know if I could ever be satisfied with second best. What do you mean, second best? Your wife. I read the transcript of the trial. I was there and you yourself told me.

You said you loved her completely. How can you... How can any man who is loved like that ever love completely again? Is that all that stands between us? Isn't it enough? We are alone. Supposing I were to tell you... Supposing I were to tell you the truth. That I hated her. That I couldn't stand her. But you said that you... While I was on trial, I could scarcely admit it. But it's true. You loathed her.

I was trapped. She was like a stone around my neck. You almost sound as if... As if I had actually murdered her. I didn't say that. But that's what you meant. If I had a wife and she stood between you and me and there was no other way out but murder, I would do it for you. You would kill her? Shoot her? Anything.

Anything to possess you. No, no, Hendrick, please. You're too demanding. Please, wait. Wait? What for? You and I, we have something beyond this world. An excitement beyond bearing. When I see you like this, I almost believe you would dare anything. Anything. You did kill her. You killed your wife, Eve, didn't you? All right. If that is what you have to know, yes.

Yes, I killed her. That is what you needed to know, wasn't it? It's what I had to know. Had to... No, don't touch that handbag. You're hurting me. Give me that bag. A gun. Jeff! Jeff!

trap. You tried to catch me. The door and this bar that holds it are of solid oak, Valerie. Your inspector and your boyfriend can hammer at it for a thousand years without so much as shaking it. It's no use, Hendrick. They have your confession recorded. A small good it will do them. What are you doing? Breaking my kerosene lamps. Fuel to light a funeral pyre. No, you must be mad. You

Not all, my darling. Just you and your friends. I shall be leaving. No, no. Please don't move or I'll shoot you. I need this lamp from the piano to light my way out.

And to set fire to those old dry sacks down there. The mill is all wood dried out by years of sun and wind. It'll go up like a torch. You're only making things worse for yourself. If I were caught, how many times could they guillotine me? Besides, everyone will think I have been roasted to death here with you. And now,

Before I go, I have a score to settle with you. Must you kill everything you love? What have I left to love? Me? Henrik, we could still go away together. I'm rich, we could be married. I'd never tell. You betrayed me once. You'll betray me again. Keep a whiff from me or I'll shoot.

What are you looking at? The millstone! What? It's turning! The brake! It's not holding! It caught my arm! Drop that gun! My foot! It's caught! No! No!

Can't we do anything for him? Take it easy, darling. We couldn't get within 50 yards of that place. When the roof landed, it became one enormous chimney. Don't waste any tears on him, Val. No, I'm not. He deserved to die, but not the way he... I just don't understand. How did the stone start rolling? What happened?

You started them. I did. When we couldn't get out that door, we had to get to you somehow. There was a window from the attic. I managed to jump from it to one of the weather vanes. When my weight hit that arm, it started to turn. Oh, so that's what started the millstone. You saved all our lives, darling. Except for the one who deserved to die. Le bon Dieu saw to that. Enfin, the mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fast.

The inspector's words were prophetic, for the fire was never brought under control, and the old windmill burned to the ground, a mass of charred cinders and ashes. Only the gigantic wheels remained, undamaged, fallen together to the ground, and embedded there, upright, standing like two great tombstones. But of the corpse they marked,

Not one shred remained. Hendrik van Doorn or Jean Rochelle had vanished as if he had never been. I'll be back shortly. One parting note you might find of interest. The famous lines the inspector quoted were originally written by Friedrich von Logau...

Longfellow only translated them in a poem called Retribution. And there are two more lines which are not so familiar, but in this case, very apt. Though the mills of God grind slowly, they grind exceeding small. Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all. Our cast included Joan Copeland, Tony Roberts, Paul Hecht, and William Redfield.

The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. Ever since you came here, I have the feeling I'm not talking to Carlos Ucayla, but to a stubborn Incan Indian desperately clinging to beliefs that were exploded 500 years ago. I don't like the idea of your being in danger.

Oh, come off it, Carlos. You're far too intelligent to believe in the supernatural power of some words written by some old Indian on a five-century-old death mask. To say you believe that is... It's the height of idiocy. You have no fear of words written on the most sacred relic in Incan history. Give me the paper. Thank you, Carlos. I'd rather not take thanks for this.

If this likeness be violated by plunderers, then will the wrath of Viricocha bring to them a swift and certain doom which will pursue them to their graves and beyond. 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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In the dream, you are falling, lost in the listening distance as dark locks in. Nightfall. Good evening. We sincerely hope that you'll be able to stay still long enough to hear tonight's story. But then again, perhaps you won't have much choice in the matter. The play by John Graham is called Buried Alive.

Thank you.

He comes forth like a flower and is cut down. His days are short and full of war. Inasmuch as it pleases the almighty God to take to himself this soul of our brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the elephant. Keep it up. Good work, Rose. What a performance. Earth to earth,

Dust to dust. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ashes to ashes. What gibberish. In certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life. Well, thanks for the hope, friend. Through our Lord Jesus. Who needs it? Once again, illusion has triumphed over the senses. They've buried me alive. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

What an accident. Nobody, nobody but the great Santini could go into such a deep trance. It's like a mask of death. Getting the death certificate was easier than paying a phone bill. What do they teach you in medical school these days?

Buried alive. Sure as hell my most profitable exit. No corny cat and mouse stuff waiting for the body to turn up. It's nailed in his coffin. Or so they'll think. Oh, yes, the insurance company will have to pay. And my poor, bereaved widow should just have to console herself with half a million dollars.

Until she is found mysteriously murdered and penniless. Well, they can't blame a murder on someone who's already dead, can they? Oh, poor Rose. Yeah, it's too bad. She's losing her looks. Speaking of Rose, I don't know what time it is. She should be along soon with that idiot Phil to dig me up. In the dark, the fluorescent dial of this watch is almost blinding.

I see. There's only an hour left, and then I'll hear Rosa's innocent voice over the intercom.

No, no, stop that, Bill. Not here. Why not, Rose? I want you. Not in Santini's bed. Forget him, Rose. He's as good as dead. That oxygen cylinder won't last more than 24 hours. I don't want to talk about it. Oh, why not? He's dying, and I couldn't be happier.

The way he treated us. Clowns in that two-bit dirty hypnotism show of his. Well, now he's the clown. And nothing's bad enough for him. I'm sorry, but he was my husband. Yes. Yes, he was. You're right. He had it coming to him. We don't have to hide our feelings anymore. And besides, with all that insurance money, we're free. I love you, Rose. Oh, Phil. We don't have to be afraid again, Rose.

You love me, don't you? Of course. Then forget Santini. You're good for me, Phil. Come over here. Where are they? Damn waifu mine. Get me out!

Get me out! I feel like I'm being crushed. No, wait a minute. Calm down, Santini. Calm down. Don't burn up the oxygen. What time is it? They're always late. How can she be so stupid? Well, she'll learn quick enough when I get out. When I... No, she couldn't. Double-cross me? No, not Rose. I mean, she doesn't have the nerve. Maybe the intercom's broken. They came, but they couldn't get it to work. I'll check it. The intercom works.

I have been double-crossed. She'll leave me here. No. No, no, no. I'll just push your confident up. That's it. You just push it up. Come on. Once more. A little harder. It's moving. No. No, it's not moving. It's not moving. It's not moving.

My own throat.

Rose! Rose, you bitch! I'll get you! You're not gonna leave me here! I'll get you! No. No. No, go away! Leave me alone! Rose? Rose, wake up! No, go away! Wake up! Phil! Oh, Phil! Thank God! It was only a dream.

Bad one, eh? I saw him. I saw him. He was out of the grave. His arms were around me. Make it easy. You've had a rough day, but it's all over now. I was in love with him. Forget him, Rose. I remember when we met. I tried to fight him, but he kept drawing me back. Rose, please. I was young and naive, but so happy in my lavender dress. Go to sleep. No. I've got to go and see...

Make sure he's still there. You can't be serious. Why can't you wait till morning? Now. But it's late. I'm going now. Are you coming or not? Let's just leave it alone. It's done and over with. Leave it alone. You're afraid. No, I'm just not going. I don't want anything more to do with him. I'm on my own then. Suit yourself. But, Rose, be careful. It's dark out there tonight. I'm sorry.

There's a lake. Okay, now the grave should be right there. Good. And the intercom? Yeah, everything is here. Santini? Are you there? What the hell do you think? Where have you been, damn it? Everything's going according to plan, isn't it? Well, say something! Santini. What's going on? We're not going to...

To go through with it. What the hell are you talking about? We're going to leave you there. Rose. Goodbye, Santini. Goodbye. Rose, please. Now, wait. Just at least talk to me, Rose. What's there to talk about? What's there to talk about? For God's sake, why are you doing this to me? I'm in love with Phil. You mean...

You're in love with Phil? Phil the clown? I don't believe it. Don't you laugh. He's good to me. Oh, sure. He makes me feel important. That wimp. You're in love with him? Come on, Roe. You're not serious. Even now you make me feel stupid. All right, listen, Roe. Look, I didn't mean it. Now, I've always liked Phil. It's just that I love you so much. Lies. Lies.

You don't say anything. When you seduced my little sister. Oh, you said you loved me. No, that was supposed to be enough. That's all over now, Rose. I only did those things because I wanted your forgiveness. I loved you. Selfishly, I don't jazz. But only because I was afraid of losing you. Don't talk nonsense. It won't change anything. Oh, look. If you want to leave me, I won't stop you. You can take the money. Just get me out of here. And trust you? Why should I...

Goodbye, Santini. Goodbye. One more thing. What is it? A letter. What? It tells you all, Rose, everything. What? I left it with a good friend. He's going to open it. If I don't call him the next little while, he's going to open it. Then they'll come and get me. What? And then, then we'll be together again, Rose. In jail. Oh. It won't be lovely. All three of us together again.

Except it'll be worse for you, murderer. Murderer? After the living hell you put me through? Rose. Rose. Rose, listen to me. I love you, Rose. Sleep well, old friend.

A letter? Damn it, he's got us again. It could be a bluff. I'm not going to rot in jail. I mean, even if we do let him go, we'll still have the money. What are you talking about? If we let him go, we'll kill us both. You know that, don't you? Yes. No. I don't know what to think. I can't stand it. He's down there dying and we're going to get caught. It's not working. It's just not working. Look, just stop and think for a minute.

What friends does he have? Santini? Friends? Certainly no one he could trust. Maybe it was a bluff. Of course it was. Imagine him asking someone to wait for him to return from the dead. How could he expect anyone to do something like that? You know, you're right. It's just more of his nonsense. He's made a fool of me again. Hey, forget it, Rose. We're safe. No, that's not enough. What do you mean? He tried to make a fool of me.

He's going to die with us loving and laughing in his ears. Come on. We're going to make love in that graveyard. No, no, I can't do that. I just... I can. What's wrong with you? What are you so afraid of? I'm still afraid of him, damn it. You would be too if you knew it was good for you. Why are you such a wimp? Go alone. I want to see that louse bake and suffer. I want to see him die a thousand deaths. Good night. Be careful. He can be very...

persuasive.

Hello, Santini. Rose. Rose, good for you. I knew you'd figure it out. Yeah, I did. Oh, what the hell. It's all behind us now. I keep the money if you want. Well, most of it. I just need enough to buy off my friend with the letter, you understand. What letter? The letter... What letter? The letter. Don't play games with me. You didn't really think I was going to buy that, did you? So you think you're dead, eh? What do you want? Why...

Thought you might like to hear about me and Phil. You and Phil? Yeah. Some nights he wakes me up, oh, five, six times. Terrific. I got so I can't think of anything else. From one sweet, sweet moment to the next.

I'm sort of warm and hazy all the time. I'm not interested, Rose. Better than anything we ever had. That's for sure. I don't want to hear this. I'm going to switch off the intercom. You do, and you'll never hear another human voice again. You bitch. It all started one lousy drunk night in Munich. The show was a flop. We couldn't hypnotize anyone. They were too drunk. So you joined them.

You got drunk, too, and mean. Threw me and Phil out in the rain? Rose. What a night. A couple has to be very inventive to keep up their interest in a rain ditch. Especially beside a tent of singing drunks. Is this some kind of joke? Yeah. You really must hate me, Rose. Yeah, I do. It hasn't always been this way, you know. Then what a good time. I can't think of any. Naples. Naples.

Just after we were married. Remember, Rose? Yeah, just after they threw you in jail for that seance fraud. Oh, I remember it all right. And a Mediterranean. How blue it seemed. You, in your summer dress. The lavender one. Yes, and that funny Greek. Oh, the one who sang all the time. Spiros. It's not so long ago. Is it, Rose? Yes.

Goodbye, Santini. One last thing. What? Listen, tomorrow morning, early, come and watch the sun rise over the water, just like we did when we were happy. What's in it for you? It's all I need to take with me, Rose, an image of you in the fresh morning light. I gotta go. Too much to ask?

Say you'll come. Yeah, we'll see. See, I gotta go. Rose, you'll come. I gotta go. I said we'll see. Goodbye. You'll come, Rose. You'll come.

I got you now. Good morning. Sleep well? Yes, Rose. And you? No, as a matter of fact. Well...

I'm here. Relax. But I haven't got time to waste. What's the lake look like, Rose? The lake? It's still there. Sunrise shining across. It's pretty, isn't it? Nice enough. Restful. Yeah. Very restful. Very restful. Just like Naples, Rose. Yeah. Yeah.

Like Naples. All the time in the world, Naples. All the time in the world. You want to be back there so much it hurts you to think about it. Yet you do think about it. All the time in the world. Keep on looking at the sunrise on the water. You're back there now, aren't you, Rose? Yes, yes, yes. What's happening in your life?

I'm 17. I just fell in love with an exciting man. Yes. Oh, he's handsome. So handsome. He knows everything. What's his name, Rose? Santini. Why do you love him? I don't know. I can't help it. The other girls at the convent are mad with jealousy. I can't think of anything else. Are you happy?

I'm so happy I could burst. Rose, Rose, when I count three, you will wake up. You will remember only the good feelings you have now. Forget all our trouble, all our meanness, all our selfishness. Do you understand, Rose? Yes, I understand. Good. One, two, three. What? What have I done? What? Oh, good God! What?

Santini, forgive me. I'll be right back. I'll get you out. I'll get you out right away. Don't worry. I'm not worried. I'm not worried at all, Rosie. I'm not worried.

Okay. It's free now. Push it open. Push it open. That's it. That's it. It's opening. Push harder. There. Right there. Oh, Santino. I'm sorry. I don't know how it happened. Just get away from me. I can't breathe. Of course. I'm sorry.

You're not mad at me, are you? No, I'm mad. No, no, Rose, Rose. Of course not, darling. Come here, let me hold you. Why would I be mad at you, my love? Oh, Rose, let me look at you. Look into my eyes, Rose. That's it. Just relax. Relax, Rose. Feeling drowsy? Drowsy. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. All the time in the world, Rose.

the time in the world to just relax, Rose. Relax. And lie down right in here. ...

Oh, phew. There, that does it. The grave looks like it's never been touched. That's a nice view of the lake from here. Rose. Yes, sir?

How do you feel now, Rose? I'm happy. So happy. Glad to hear it, Rose. When I count to three, you'll wake up. One, two, three. Huh?

I can't breathe. Let me out. Santini! Help me! Help me! Santini! What a lovely day. A lovely day for our funeral.

You have just heard Buried Alive by John Graham. Featured in tonight's cast were Don Franks as Santini, Lali Caddo as Rose, and John Stocker as Phil, with Frank Perry as the minister. Our recording engineer is Ray Falsick, with sound effects by Matt Wilcott. The script editor is Earl Toppings, with the production assistance of Doris Buchanan.

Tonight's play was produced and directed by Paul Mills and the coordinating producer for Nightfall is Bill Howell. Hey Weirdos, our next Weirdo Watch Party is this coming Saturday and this one is extra special as it's our Christmas Watch Party and yours truly plays a part in it. Our hostess, Mistress Malicious and her team at Mistress Peace Theater have recreated and re-edited the film for all of the funny stuff you'd expect from them.

And they replaced all the narration throughout with my own narration, even keeping a few of the ad-libs I tossed in. It's Santa Claus from 1959, sometimes known as Santa Claus vs. the Devil. It tells the story of the devil showing up at Christmas time, determined to ruin it all, and ruin some children in the process.

But Santa refuses to let Christmas be tainted and even teams up with Merlin the magician to help defeat the devil so Christmas can be saved.

Santa Claus, or Santa Claus vs. the Devil, hosted by Mistress Peace Theatre! It's this Saturday night, 10pm Eastern, 9pm Central, 8pm Mountain, 7pm Pacific, on the Watch Party page at WeirdDarkness.com. The Weirdo Watch Party is always free to watch – just tune in at showtime and watch the movie with me and other Weirdo family members, and often the horror hosts join in the page's chat box with us too!

Mistress Malicious brings us Santa Claus or Santa Claus vs. the Devil this Saturday night for our next Weirdo Watch Party. I ho-ho-ho-hope to see you there! Get the details on the Watch Party page at WeirdDarkness.com.

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Obsession. It was the great Byron who wrote, The holy root of the mind is far more desired for witness in the play of the druids.

Then are all the circles of moon fantasy in the forests of moon mist lore. In the fog of the subconscious, there hang great and entwining branches that point strange fingers toward you and seem to whisper in the midnight breeze, art thou a doubter of my work? You will hear the story of such in a moment when Theodore Osborne creates the role of Edgar Allan Poe in the story of The Solitary Genius.

A man surfeited with a black and morbid and horrible obsession. It was again the blind poet Homer who said, Genius is a state between heaven and hell, and he who shall there reside...

will neither be understood nor yet have mundane understanding. He will never be forgiven, nor will he heed self-forgiving. He shall always stand solitary and alone, to be scorned yet have no wit for scorning. Such was the precarious estate of the tragic Edgar Allan Poe. Within the whirls and convolutions of his brain there sprang dazzling flashes of a pure white light of fantasy, and betimes in contrast,

There formed eddies and whirlpools and turgid thoughts of black despair and melancholia. He was a man within himself, a man neither understood nor understanding. That is, with but one exception, there was but one beautiful and ethereal light of his existence, the light he immortalized forever and eternal in the sweet and pathetic lyrics of Annabel Lee. That was the celestial name he gave to her,

Of course, her earthly name was Virginia Clem. ♪♪

Oh, hello, Edgar. I've been wondering where you were. If your wonderment can inspire such music, then I beg of you to continue your wonderment, my dear. Oh, who's that? Oh, no, no, please, don't stop playing. That melody of yours fills this room of our little house until it becomes as the marble halls of Ireland. How many times have I told you about flattery turning my head? Do you suppose flattery might turn your head sufficiently for me to kiss your lips? Oh, my dear, it's just so silly and so wonderful and...

And I love you so. Oh, dear. Thank you. You know, Virginia, if love were the only coin of the realm, none could be as wealthy as we. And I would buy you gowns of lace, jewels of the most priceless...

And you should live in a palace of Italian marble with 40,001 servants to do your bidding. Oh, which reminds me, Edgar. The butcher called today asking again about his bill. He threatened to cut off our credit. Oh, if I were only St. George and that infernal butcher or dragon, how I would thoroughly enjoy skewering him upon my spear. What did you tell him? Not whether I could tell him. Tomorrow, perhaps the next day, perhaps the day after. I had no money in the house, you know. Yes, I know.

I wonder why poets must always be forced to starve, freeze, and eat cheese in the galley like a mountain. We shan't always starve and freeze, Edgar. Someday you'll be famous. Oh, I just know it. I'm sure of it. Yes, you're as sure of it as you are of tomorrow's breakfast. But darling, there's no need to become disheartened. There's no reason for us to be unhappy and discouraged. Why, Edgar, look what we have that the others haven't. Yes, mildewed linen, moldy bread.

and a shack over our heads that even cattle would be disgraced. We have love, my dear, and freedom. Freedom? Yes. Look, Edgar. At what? That bird sitting on that old stump out there. I think it's a raven, isn't it? Yes. On the surface, his life is black and ugly, but his soul is free. By the spaces of the heavens belong to him, he can fly under the sun. But I'll bet he can't write poetry. No, he can't. But you can.

His wings give him flight. But your poetry gives you flight that you'll last beyond the life of, oh, that silly old bird. Yes, perhaps. Beyond your life, Edgar, you shall live. And beyond his life, there will be nothing. Your life, our lives, they shall be forevermore. And his life shall be nevermore.

Never more, quote the Raven. Never more. Virginia, excuse me, I'm going to my room. You're going to your room? Yes, to my room. And Virginia, don't disturb me. The Raven is going to quote Nevermore. And Edgar Allan Poe, in that one word I promise you, shall live forevermore. In a frenzy of inspiration, Edgar went to his room, sat at his desk, and pondered head in hands just how he should plan this poem.

He did it all rationally with sober reason, not in abandoned drunken madness, as it has been said. His was a frenzy which all poets know, the poetic frenzy of inspiration that drove him on and held his thoughts to their purpose. Thus it was that he planned first the length, then the impression and tone of the poem, planned the refrain, and finally he wrote the last part first so that he would have some definite entity toward which to build.

In this way, Edgar Allan Poe worked in that poor, cheap little house. And so grew those 108 lines of mournful and never-ending remembrance. The Raven.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, while he nodded nearly napping, suddenly there came some visitor tapping at my chamber door. Only this and nothing more. It was in the bleak December, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Vainly he had sought to borrow from his books a cease of sorrow. Sorrow for the lost Lenore, of the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore. But presently his soul grew stronger, and hesitating then no longer, he opened wide the door. Darkness there, and nothing more. And the only word there spoken was the whispered word. Lenore? This he whispered.

And an echo murmured back the word. There's no heart. Nearly this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all his soul within him burning. Soon again he heard a tapping, somewhat louder than before. Open here he flung the shutter, when with many a flirt and flutter in there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.

And perched upon the chamber door, perched and fat and nothing more. Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou art sure no craven, ghastly grim and ancient raven from the nightly shore. Then quote the raven. Much he marveled, this ungainly fowl, to hear discourse so plainly, though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore.

But the raven, sitting lonely upon the door, spoke only that one word. Prophet raven, tell this soul with sorrow laden, if within the distant Aden it shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore. Quoth the raven.

But that word our sign of parting. Get thee back into the tempest and the night's plutonian shore. Take thy beat from out my heart and take thy form from off my door. Then quoth the raven.

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting just above the chamber door. And his eyes have all the meaning of a demon that is dreaming. And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor.

and a soul from out that shadow shall be lifted. Esther! Esther, darling! Esther, sweetheart! Wake up!

Oh, what is it, Virginia? Oh, what's the matter? Nothing's the matter, dearest. But I've just come from the post office, and I've brought you a letter. It's from the publisher. The publisher? Yes. The Ravens. They bought it. Fame and fortune, my dear. No more moldy bread and cheese that even the mice refuse. Oh, Virginia, my dearest, we're rich and... Oh. What's the matter, Edward? Darling, what is it? Didn't they buy it after all? Yes, Virginia, they bought it.

Listen. For all rights, privileges, publications, and copies for your poem, The Raven, please find in closed check in the amount, in the amount of $10, Virginia. We are rich indeed. Nevermore. The beautiful Annabelle Lee. The sweet chime of music.

that was to Edgar Allan Poe the very essence of life, died out upon the morning air, and there by the wild sea pounding, and in the presence of heaven's angels, he buried her. Then his footsteps turned, and the predestined track led him on to a new and strange experience. In the ancient scroll, it is written that the angel Israfel gives to his chosen only once in ten thousand years.

The power of vision into the future. Edgar Allan Poe, the chosen of this angel, had caught that prophetic crystal from the realms above, had held it, guarded it in his heart, and now he stands without the portals of the strange and foreboding house of Roderick Usher. In his own words, hear him tell in a flash of genius the most sparkling narrative that mortal ear has ever caught.

...

and I became aware of a great fracture, or crack, which, extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction until it became lost in the sullen waters of the town. I crossed the heavy bridge of the moat and went, filled with that almond feeling, to the ancient portal of the House of Crescent. CREASCENT

What do you wish? I wish to see my friend, Roderick Usher. I wish shelter and warmth. Tell your master that an old friend has come to call, that his name is Edgar Allan Poe. Very well. You may come in. You will wait here in the hall while I inform Mr. Usher of your arrival.

As the cadaverous servant disappeared into the gloom of the long, vaulted corridor, my gaze wandered to the tomb-like structure of my surroundings. I say tomb-like only to describe the decaying furnishings and architecture in which I felt strangely confined. Ancestral portraits hung loosely and dull within cracked, sub-webbed frames. Grinning masks of armor peered out from the shadows.

A great circular staircase wound and coiled like some black ugly serpent into the reaches of the room. Poe. Edgar Allan Poe. Roderick. Upon my life I've never been so surprised. Let me look at you. It is you, isn't it? It is Edgar Allan Poe, not some specter come to haunt these halls of Usher. It is truly I, Roderick. And I think it is only willingness, hunger and cold which lend me this specter's mask.

I hope I haven't intruded. Intruded? My good man. Let me say that no visitor to this house has ever been more welcome than yourself. Oh, but come, we'll not stand here in the draft of the hall. We'll repair to the warmth and comfort of my studio. Will you allow me to lead the way, my friend, Edgar Allan Poe? Now, now, if you will comfort yourself with a fire and a great chair, we'll talk. And I think we have much to say, haven't we? You have much, and I have little.

But tell me, Roderick, how have you been? Have you been well? Since you've asked, I can only tell you the truth, Edgar. I trust it shan't frighten you or disturb your visit. I fear that I am falling heir to the same sickness which has held my sister in its bondage. Are you speaking of Madeline? Do you mean to tell me that she's ill? Oh, yes. But I can't conceive of illness striking such beauty of both body and soul as is Madeline. The Madeline that I knew. Life is a strange thing, Edgar. Oh, will you excuse me, please?

Yes, come in. Well, Philip, what is it? I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion, sir. Yes, yes. I have just returned from the room of the Lady Madeline, sir. She... she is worse? She... she wants me to come to her? No, sir. I beg to inform you, sir, that the Lady Madeline is dead. Oh!

Ladies and gentlemen, as the lips of the servant of Usher pronounce the dread word, the Lady Madeline is dead. Slowly the great ancestral clock ticks, devouring the minutes and hours that passed in morbid reverie. The bells of the tower still swayed in their half-crazed dance, and I found myself standing with Roderick Usher within the subterranean copper-lined vault that was now the tomb of his lovely sister.

The Lady Madeline. Roderick. Roderick. Yes. Will you not leave her side now? To gaze upon death too long, my friend, is destructive to the soul of the living. Yes, I know. But, Edgar, I can't believe it. Somehow my mind refuses to accept the truth. This is my sister. No, Roderick.

This was your sister. I... I... Please, please. Look at me, Roderick, and listen. Life is the end. Death is the start. And only through death may life begin. The survival of constructive value of this life is the only medium through which man, civilization, empires may achieve the ultimate of perfection. In the fulfillment of the two cardinal laws of God, birth and death,

Do we only see beauty in its most perfect form? All things must end rubbish before they can begin. And not as consolation, not as condolence, do I say to you that death is the life of everlasting peace and triumph, that before the dawn of that perfect era of creation shall break,

Before we stupid infinitesimal minutiae of commonplace episodes shall find the perfect karma of achievement. Peace without war. A metamorphosis of death must decay this flesh of the lost and germinate the cell of new life that shall be forever without the pallor of death. But, Edgar, surely... These things I know, Roderick. How I know? Why? But I do know them.

As surely as I know that as man shall die, so shall civilization. But as the selfish forms of social organization shall fall, so also shall fall the house of Asher. And then, Roderick, then will come the miracle of birth and the phenomenon of everlasting life.

The days wear on, and Roderick Usher, last of the symbolic line that reaches far back into the history of civilization, sinks deeper into his morbid shell. Only his music, the strange half-mad innuendo of sound that seems to emanate from the depths of his soul, continues on through the murky nights and lyric days to console him.

Then, knowing that human companionship alone can hope to break this introverted mania, Edgar Allan Poe breaks in upon the solitary usher and diverts him from his vigil of lone sorrow. Roderick? Roderick? Yes, you must stop this. You must put an end to this means of self-torture, Roderick. If you don't, you shall go mad, and I shall go mad.

Body and soul can't stand it. Edgar. Yes, Edgar. My sister is dead. And your sister's brother shall also become dead if you don't cease this vigil of wanton self-effacement. Have you ever heard the voices of silence? Have you ever listened to the words of condemnation echoing from the shadowed corners from rooms, from hallways? No, Roderick. Don't give way to hysteria. This is no hysteria. I'm not mad. I'm not insane.

The voices I have heard were not the mumblings of imagination. I tell you, Edgar Poe, they were real. Repeating the same words over and over. One word. She is not dead. She is buried alive. In the name of God, Roderick. Wait, wait, Poe. Listen. I did nothing. Edgar Poe, look as I am looking. See as I am seeing. And if your eyes do not see as mine, then I am truly bereft of reason. Mad, insane. The door. No.

Madeline! Who got the Father Christ to do this? Madeline! Roderick, why have you done this to me? Madeline! Madeline! The body of Roderick Usher fell with a mad shuddering upon the now lifeless corpse of a filament-enfolded sister. From that chamber and from that mansion I fled aghast, and suddenly there shot along the path a wild light.

And while I gazed, the cracks in the castle rapidly widened. My brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder. And there came then, through the brilliance, that can come only from catastrophe, a strange and perplexing sight of things to come. You have been listening to...

Obsession.

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♪♪♪

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

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

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

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

♪♪

I am Superstition. A god, a false god, who rules by fear. I demand worship from rich and poor alike.

from the witch and from the scorn. My victims are many. My slaves are legion. You who scoff and disbelieve, listen to this story. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Saint Preservus! What was that? Light the light, Eric. Huh? What's that? Where's those matches? Oh, it's Peck's dog, Howie. That's a bad omen. Maybe old Hyler is dead.

If he is, it's because they moved him before sunset last night. I've always said don't move a sick person during the day. That reminds me. Last month I saw Tyler count in the carriages at Dick's day's funeral. That means certain death. Oh, I wish he'd hush.

Mr. Oakley. Oh, I hope he ain't offended. The borders are so scarce nowadays. It's daybreak. He's probably up, ready for his morning's walk. He's coming. Explain that the dog don't always howl so often. Morning, folks.

That hound certainly can sound his A. What's the matter with him, hungry? No, there's a calamity impending. Oh, I hope you're not disturbed. Calamity? Oh, shucks, that's old-fashioned superstition. My woman's right. Don't deny the spirit. You invite misfortune and disaster. Well, I'm going outside and meet it. Come on, let's see the dog. Oh!

See, he's down the road opposite the old oak tree. That's old Hyler himself with him. Strange he ain't dead. Let's go over. Yeah, you go over. I'll stay here. What's the matter? Afraid? Eric, you stay here. My ears have been ringing all yesterday. And you know what that means. Right, your mother. I must stand right here.

Look, Eric. Here comes the deacon. Looks troubled. Now we'll find out about the dog. Good morning, deacon. Morning, good folks. I'm afraid our village is in the grip of the spirits. That dog has kept me awake all night. It's a warning, I tell you. My woman's right, deacon. What can it all mean? It means death.

You see, at one time many years ago, men made God the dog, and they were able to foresee death, predict horrible disaster by their howling.

It's Peck's dog. Where is former Peck, I wonder? Why, he should be here. Centuries ago, the church proclaimed as the lower animal being created before man, blessed by God, provided for in the ark

Must be treated with due deference. Look, Mr. Oakley's a Roman. Well, I found the devil. Well, I wonder... That's all right, folks. The dog is lonesome for his master, Farmer Peck. What way is Farmer Peck? Well, I... Well, I can't answer that. Well, I can. He's probably murdered. I saw him last night in the dream, and his face was covered. That's a sign of death. Oh!

Dream of the living and you'll hear of a death. Ah, that's just superstition. But it's true. Come to think of it, I saw Peck with that good one that involved Munson yesterday. And Munson was trippin'. Drunk.

Find Munson, and you'll find the body of former peck. I've long suspected Munson of wickedness. I'll ring for the constable. I'll ring the church bell. Right. Ah, yes. That will call him.

Munson's been up to something. I'll wager. Munson's a murderer. As sure as that dog is howling under the oak tree. Now don't you believe it, Mr. Oakley. Oh, nonsense. Believe Peck is dead because his dog is howling? You both talk like the witches, wizards and medicine men of other days. To disbelieve is to outrage the gods. Please.

You'd best beware. You're both a muddled mass of superstitious ignorance and fear. Here's the constable. Here it is. Arthur. What is it, constable? Looks like we finally got something on Hawkinson. I'm on my way to arrest him. The deacon says you saw him with the missing man's peck yesterday. That's right. I'll swear to that. I think you'd swear to anything.

Constable, you're not arresting Munson on this woman's face, though, are you? Certainly. This high-time Munson was removed from this village of peaceful people. Village of fools, if they're all like Martha here. And you, Constable? Do your duty, Constable. I'm going in to phone the neighbors to bolt their doors and be on the watch for the murderer, Bob Munson. Eric, you come along. Did you hear what she called Munson?

A murderer? Well, that's right, ain't it? That's what he is. Man alive. Do you know what you're doing? Just because a lonesome dog howls for his master, in the space of five minutes you have a man charged with murder. That's right. And I'll make it stick. The murdered man was last seen in his company. That's evidence enough, ain't it? Murdered man. Now you have Peck murdered, and you

and you haven't even seen the body. You shouldn't be a constable. No! No! No! You should be in charge of some torture chamber. You're sunk so deep in the mire of superstition that you're blinded to all reasoning.

That's the whistle at the sawmill. They've got Munson. Constable! Constable! They've caught Bob Munson. Where? Down by the creek. The crowd's bringing him here to the oak tree. Yes, so the dog can look at him, I suppose. No, keep out of this. We'll come handle our own affair. Well, I'm not out of it. I'm very much in it. Then you be careful that you don't lash this mob into a fury, or you'll answer to the court.

Here he comes, Constable. I know he did it. Rubbish. You'll have him convicted before he's even tried. Make him, Constable. He's your prisoner. Make him talk. For God's sake, help me, Constable. I've done nothing. Oh, yeah? Let's see how the dog acts when he sees you. Come over here by the oak tree. The dog will convict him. You can't fool the dog.

Look.

Look like that! It is blood! The blood of Father Pat! Come on! Tell us what you did with the body! I swear I didn't harm him! He was my friend! You're lying! You killed him! Hey, I love you! Hey, Mac! Don't you lay a hand on this man! I'll handle this! You fool! Act quickly before the mob does! Be calm, boys! He's my prisoner!

Give them to us. We'll... Save me. Save me. Please, someone save me. Better get him into this house. This mob looks dangerous. Let's get her off, boys. We'll bring her off. Come on. Let's get her off. Get her off. Quick, Hudson. Constable, get in here. Don't take him in my house. Get in there, Martian. Open the door, okay? Till the crowd cools down. Get him out of here. Get him out of here. Get him out of here.

Bring up that ladder. Let's just kill him. Over here now. All together. All together. Take him away. Hey, Max.

Don't touch this man! Come on, come on. Save me! Doesn't anyone believe me? Save me! I'm innocent! Save me! Go easy, boys. Remember, he's my prisoner. You, you're done, Constable. Can't you see they're going to hang this poor devil? Well, I told them not to harm him, didn't I? I'm going to call the police!

Give me a chance. Give me a chance, will you, fellas? I swear to you, I didn't do anything to pick. Sure, we'll give you a chance. A chance to say your prayers. Come on, boys. Bring them under the top tree. Men, listen to me in the name of decency. In the name of humanity, listen to me. Don't watch the name of your village with this foul mouth.

I didn't do it, I tell you! You're hanging an innocent man! Men! Men! Remember, if you hang this man, you are all guilty of murder! And I swear I'll have the county attorney prosecute you if it's the last thing I do! Up you go!

Come on, Munson. Say your prayers. This is outrageous. Some of you will hang for this. You're sacrificing this unfortunate man on the altar of superstition. Rubbish. Pray, Munson. Oh, Father, to art in heaven. Save me, please. Something moving in the tree. Where's the man? Who is it?

Ah! It's a ghost! It's... I'm a pig! Pig! Pig, old friend! Pig, come down! They're hanging me for murdering you! Oh, pig, please come down! Save me! Come! Oh, what's in my... My what's all around? Oh, gee! Hey, how long have I been asleep? Since last night.

But you awoke in time to save me! Save me! Last night, Dave, why didn't you wake me up, Rover? I tried to, by howling. But he only succeeded in awakening a lot of superstitious fools. Look at them slink away, the cowards! Hang your heads in shame! Go back to your homes and let this be a lesson to you! Shame on you! Shame on you!

In one more second, your hands would have been stained with the light blood of your fellow man. All because of a howling dog. I am superstition. You don't believe, do you? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

♪♪

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♪♪♪

♪♪ Harrowed. ♪♪ Stories of suspense. ♪♪

Good morning, gentlemen. I am Colonel Tanyatsky. Are you in charge of this prison, Colonel? I am proud to say that I am. And I insist on my rights as an American citizen. I want to get in touch with my... Right here, sir. It is a most deplorable situation that at the present time this humble person cannot guarantee that your rights are safeguarded. I don't like the sound of that. Ah, you are the Australian, eh? Eh, Joe Orson's the name.

Yes, Colonel.

John Danton is my name. Captain John Danton of the British Army? I entered China as a civilian. You are listed as an active officer in the British Army. I was given three months' leave two weeks ago. Then you have been in China for only two weeks. Yes. I suggest, Captain Danton, that you may have been here for many years, that you may be known to Chinese traders as Mr. Kirk. That is not true. Perhaps not. Perhaps Mr. Wilson is the man I seek. Eh, Mr. Wilson?

Could it be possible that you are Mr. Kirk? The name's Wilton. It's the only name I ever use. Then perhaps Mr. Samuel Edwards is Mr. Kirk. I entered Red China less than a month ago. You claim you are a writer. Yeah, a magazine writer. A special correspondent for Flick Magazine. Who is the editor of Flick Magazine? James McIntyre. Where is Flick Magazine published? Brooklyn, New York, 257 Flatbush Avenue. Why did you enter Red China? To see what's happened to your people since you changed your politics. Oh. And you, Mr. Wilton...

Why did you enter China? To look for a lady. I was here when you people were fighting the Japs. I met her in a cafe. She was a singer. Called herself Lil LeBlanc. Mother was Chinese, her father a Frenchman. I fell in love with her. And you, Mr. Denton? My brother entered Red China six months ago. He never returned.

The British Foreign Office has tried to investigate, but you people haven't been very cooperative. So you decided to investigate personally, eh? Yes. One of you three is lying.

You are the only three Westerners in this city who do not have valid reasons for being here. One of you is Mr. Kirk. What do you got against this bloke who calls himself Kirk? He organized an underground movement using Chinese traders, miserable creatures who have sold their soul to capitalism. Kirk has cost the Chinese government a fortune in materials. He sabotages trains, trucks, factories. War materials, Colonel? Defense materials to be used in the event we are attacked. You mean to be used in the event you decide to attack? Yes.

That is precisely the sort of thing that Kirk would say, Mr. Edwards. Would he? But I'm not Kirk. One of you is, and I am now addressing that one. You are going to die, whether you decide to confess to your crimes against China or not. Exactly what does that mean, Colonel? It means, Captain Benson, that if Kirk does not confess, all three of you will die.

The first one in 25 minutes from now. We'll be back in just a minute to tell you more of tonight's story, The Wonderful Deception. The Wonderful Deception

Murder, that's what it'll be. No, Mr. Wilson. Execution of a saboteur. You'll kill two innocent men just to get at the guilty one? Yes. How are you going to carry out this little party of yours? Well, if the one who is cagged has not agreed to sign a statement confessing to all his crimes against China, then we will play a game. One of you will lose. He will be taken outside and shot.

Then, after a suitable period, if the confession is still not forthcoming, the game will be played again. And the man who's left? We will assume that he is the man who calls himself Kirk. He will be tried by a people's court. And shot. Hanged. Gentlemen, I will now leave you alone. You have 24 minutes. The End

So Kirk refuses to confess, eh? I did not expect him to confess voluntarily, Lieutenant Zuko. Which one do you think he is, Colonel? He could be any of the three. Even the Australians? Why not? But the Australians reasoned for entering China to look for a woman. It is so weak and improbable. Any one of the three stories could be a fabrication. Well, we have left them in a cell and they will talk. Perhaps the innocent ones will find a flaw in the guilty man's story. If so...

We will learn of it immediately. Then on the live speakers you go, and let us listen to what their friends have to say. All right, you blokes. According to Colonel Tanyaki, one of us is this fellow who calls himself Kirk. Now, that's not me. I'm telling you two to prove who you are. Why, Wilford? Well, that should be plain enough, Johnny boy. I didn't come here to China to be shot or hanged. These jars want the bloke who's known as Kirk.

So, if I find out which one of the two of you is Kirk, I'm going to save my life. This is very interesting, Lieutenant.

You're doing a lot of talking, Wilson. How do we know you're not Kirk? I know I'm not. How do we know you're not? Because I'm telling you, Johnny. If you don't mind, I'd rather not be called Johnny. Sorry, Captain Danton, but you see, out in the colony of Australia, our manners ain't so good.

Maybe it's just that we don't stand on ceremony like you, Limey. Oh, boy, what a trio we make. An American, an Aussie, and an Englishman. One big scrappy family with nothing in common but our language. Oh, the Americans started to speak English. Oh, very funny, Captain. You know, the Englishman's impression of an American is a guy in a loud-checkered suit with a cigar stuck in the side of his mouth.

The American's impression of an Englishman is a fat, bumbling Colonel Blimp or a tall butler with a... Well, wait some time, Ying. Being an Aussie, you should be used to that. I'll let that pass. Look, one of us is Kirk. Let's find out which one. And then throw him to the wolves? Yeah. How very unsportsmanlike. Oh, yeah? I suppose Kirk's a sportsman, eh? He's letting two of us die. What do you suggest, Snowy? Only my friends call me Snowy.

How do you know I'm not a friend? You gotta prove it, Fuse. And how do I go about doing that? By showing me that you're really a magazine writer who came into China to get a story. Oh, I can tell you every member of the editorial staff of Flick Magazine. Uh-uh, that's not good enough. How about you, Captain Danton? Can you prove that you went to China to look for that brother of yours who disappeared? I'm afraid you'll just have to take my word for it. That brings us back to you, Wilson.

You say you came here to look for a girl? Yeah, and I got a photo to prove it. Charles didn't take it away from me. It. A beautiful Eurasian girl that hardly proves anything, Wilson. You know, it seems to me we've reached the stalemate. Any of us can be Kirk, so all we can do is wait. Oh, no, I'm not going to die. There's still a possibility that Colonel Tanyaki is bluffing. I don't feel like taking a chance on that, Yank.

We've only got about 20 minutes to find out which one of you is Kurt. And I'm gonna find out. We may soon learn what we want to know, Lieutenant. What are you gonna do, Wilson? I don't know yet.

I'm gonna do something. You know, you might be putting on an act for the benefit of Colonel Tarniaki. What do you mean by that, Yegg? I'll show you what I mean. Hello, Colonel. Hello. Colonel, he knows about the microphone. What's got into you, Edwards? Well, you see, Ozzie, I never could resist a microphone. A microphone? Yeah, very clumsily camouflaged. Look. I used to call me Sammy, the life of the party.

I dream of Jeannie with the light brown hair. I don't like that, Colonel. What do you mean, that microphone? This is Captain Stanton, Colonel. I'm just letting you know that we're disconnecting the wires. The American, he was the one who found the microphone. That does not mean he is Kirk. In America, microphones are used extensively in police work. If he is a magazine writer, he knows all about them. The Englishman disconnected the microphone. He could be Kirk.

And the Australians. It could be, as the Americans said, that he was putting on an act for our benefit. It appears as though we will have to get rid of the three of them. I would rather not do that. Our orders are to avoid trouble with the foreign departments of all Western countries. We would be within our rights to execute the mysterious Mr. Kirk. He has caused the lives of Chinese soldiers and many million dollars worth of war equipment. But they would prefer to let the two innocent ones return to their countries.

where they can spread the news that we are not to be trifled with. But if Kirk does not come forward, then we must liquidate all three. Yes. However, I think that Kirk will come forward. The microphone did not help us identify him. But there is still a final plan.

See that it is put into operation, Lieutenant. Funny you're able to spot that microphone, Edward. Why is it funny? Well, it's only a few feet away from me and I didn't see it. Maybe you were looking for it, eh? As a matter of fact, I was. That proves you know something about how the Charles operate. No, Wilson. You see, I once wrote a magazine series on police methods.

American cops hide mics and cells. They let a suspect have a long talk with a friend or his lawyer. That's how they get a lot of their information. I still think it looks funny. I wasn't even thinking about a microphone. A clever, suspicious fellow like you missing out on something, Ilsen? I find that hard to believe. You know something, Yank? I reckon you're a kick. And I make sure I think I'll beat it out of you. Oh?

You might be overmatching yourself, Wilson. We'll see about that. As you were, Wilson. Let go of me, Limey. As soon as you... Hold on. Let go. Listen to me, you fool. Fighting will solve nothing. Yeah, well, maybe you can think of something better, Limey. Perhaps not. But if you persist in fighting, I'll hold on to you so that Edwards can have a good shot at you. Now, what will it be? Yeah, okay, okay, you win. I can't fight both of you. Well, I thought we were going to have fun there for a while.

Hey, what is it? Down the corridor. Behind the guard. The chair soldier. He's got a blister guard. Truthy, will he flatten it? Here he comes. Mr. Kirk. I've come to get Mr. Kirk. Nice work, Mike. Go on, you boys. Let's get out of here. No. Not all of you. Why the gun? The other two of you will stay in the cell or I will shoot. The escape has been arranged for only Mr. Kirk.

Quickly, Mr. Kirk. There is not much time. We must hurry. In just a moment, we return to our story, The Wonderful Deception. The Wonderful Deception

Quickly, Mr. Kirk, come with me. Oh, I tell the three of us, come. Because it is not possible for more than one of you to escape.

Hurry, please. There is no time to lose. Well, which one of us goes? Beats me, Wilson. Come, please. Go on, Kirk, whoever you are. Don't leave the bloke waiting. Hurry, hurry, Mr. Kirk. There is just time to make the escape. Are you a member of the Underground? Yes, yes. Then surely you know which one of us is Kirk? There is no time to talk. We must leave before more guards come. Point out, Kirk. Who is it? Please, please. What are you laughing at? It's obvious what amuses him, Wilson.

This is just another of Colonel Tanyaki's little tricks. Mr. Kirk, we must hurry. There is not much time. Save it, friend. You might as well lock the door again. It didn't work, Colonel Tanyaki. Let it lock itself off. Yes, Colonel. Well, I'll be... See to the gas.

He seems to be hurt badly. Yes, Colonel. From what I saw, Colonel, that guard may be dead. Then he has died gloriously in the service of his country. You really want to get this Kirk, don't you? I will get him. One way or another. That was a clever trick, Colonel. But Kirk was a little too smart for you. I am not worried. But Kirk's blindness will cost two innocent lives. And you're going through with your plan? Of course.

You can't murder three of us and get away with it. Our governments will investigate. Only to find that you have crossed the Chinese border and disappeared. You have no business here. Our intelligence people will find out the truth. Like they discovered the truth about your brother who disappeared, Captain Denton. Oh, was that just a story? Now listen to me. I am quite willing to set free the two of you who are innocent. But I know that one of you is Kirk. And I am determined that Kirk will die.

Time is passing, gentlemen. The firing squad is waiting in the courtyard. Unless Chak reveals himself, the firing squad will perform their first duty in nine minutes. You're quiet, Wilson. What happened? Did that chip fall off your shoulder? I was just thinking about that guard. The bloke didn't bother to fight that smack on the head, he...

Yeah.

Makes me wonder what happened to Lil. Then there was a girl? Look, I'm not Kirk, Danton. I'm a bloke who came back to China because I couldn't stop thinking about a Sheila. You saw the photo of her. It wouldn't be too difficult to get a photograph of a beautiful Eurasian girl. I'm not Kirk, I tell you. Trying to convince me won't do you any good. In fact, I'm not sure I care which of you is Kirk. That's a funny statement, Danton. Well, before I entered China, I'd heard of this Kirk. I have a lot of respect for him. He's fighting for an ideal, a...

A free, united China. But why did he stay in China hiding all the time? He didn't have a chance right from the beginning. Perhaps he knew he'd be caught zero later. Yeah. Maybe he thought it was worth it. Yeah. General Tengaki again. He's got another officer with him. I wonder what he has on his mind this time. Well, gentlemen...

Have you yet discovered which of you is Mr. Kirk? No. Once again, I ask Mr. Kirk to come forward. No? Very well. Then we commence our little game. Lieutenant Zuko, write the number one or two or three on that slip of paper. Yes, Colonel. What's the idea of this? You will find out in just a moment. You are Colonel Taniaki. Thank you. Now, the United States first.

Select a number from one to three, Mr. Edwards. There's nothing I like better than party games. I'll take number three. Mr. Wilson? One. That leaves you, Captain Denton, with the number two. Observe the number, gentlemen, on this slip of paper. Two. All right, that's me. Open the stairs there, Lieutenant. Come on out, Captain Denton. You as the Colonel are, Captain Denton.

Where are you taking me? To the courtyard, where the firing squad waits. You gave us a time limit, Colonel. There's still seven minutes to go. I will observe that, my friend. The execution will be carried out exactly on time. Come, Captain Denton. ♪♪ We'll be back in just a minute to peril in our story, The Wonderful Deception. ♪♪

Six minutes. Six minutes to go. Yeah. I wonder if he is Kirk. No. If he was, he would have come clean after drawing that number. If he isn't, then you are. Or you. It's you, Edwards. I'm sure it is now. And if it is me? You're not going to let them shoot the line, are you? There's still a chance that Tanyaki is blocking. Then you are, Kirk. Admit it, Edwards. All right. I admit it. Why, you stinker.

You're just sitting here while outside a man stands in front of a firing squad. That's not my fault. He had no right to enter China. I suppose you have. I've proved my right to be here. You're going to call Taniaki. You're going to admit you're Kirk. I intend to.

But not till just before the deadline. Don't you understand? My work in China is important. I've got to wait out every second that Taniaki may decide to shoot Danton ahead of time. If we can't accept his word on that, then we can't trust him to carry out his promise to set you and Danton free. Okay. Okay, you win. But I'll be looking at my watch, Edwards. You're gonna shot for Taniaki one minute before the deadline. All right, Wilson.

One minute before. That gives you a little less than four minutes. Yeah. About Lila LeBlanc, Wilson. Well, what about her? I knew her. Knew her well. Where is she? She's dead, Wilson. What? She was executed. A few months ago. How do you know that? She worked with me. She was one of the best agents in the organization. I don't believe she's dead. I don't believe he even knew her. She had a tiny crescent-shaped scar beneath her right eye.

Around her neck, she always wore an opal on a gold chain. The opal? I gave that to her. She kept it. But Lil was a cafe singer. She wasn't a spy. She loved China. The old China. She was ready and willing to die for it. If you really knew her, Wilson, you'd realize that. Yeah. Yeah, she loved China. Oh, why did I go away without her? I told her I loved her. I said I'd be back one day, but...

When I got to Australia, my family talked me out of it. Marriage like that wouldn't work, they said. So I figured I'd forget her. For a while, I fooled myself into believing I had. I'd drink till I was as silly as a snake. Then I'd sit there just thinking of her. Finally, I just had to see her again. I wrote her letters, but I never got an answer. She changed her name. Your letters never reached her. What did she do in the underground? She used the beauty to get information from red officers.

Well...

Oh, why didn't I come back sooner? You wouldn't have got her to leave China, Wilson. Not after the Reds took over. She knew what she had to do, and she went right out and did it. She wasn't kidding herself. She must have known they'd get her sooner or later, just as I knew they'd get me. Where is she buried? I don't know. Taniaki's friend saw to that. She took orders from you, eh? Yeah. Guess she must have had a lot of respect for you. Well, we were fighting for the same thing, so I guess she did.

But I never touched her, if that's what you're wondering about. Not that I didn't try, but there was always the fella who gave her that opal. I let her down. If I'd taken her with me, she'd be alive. Look, Wilson, she died doing what she wanted to do. Just keep remembering that. It's not going to do you any good to spend the rest of your life torturing yourself. You admit you made a mistake, all right. So forget it. No. Look, I'll forget it. Not when I get the chance to show Lou how much I love her. I'm going to do what she'd want me to do. And what's that?

You're important to the underground. Me? I'm not important to anybody. Wilson. You've played hero for a long time. Now it's my turn. All right, Colonel Tanyaki, you win. I'll sign that statement. Come and get me. Now, wait a minute, Wilson. You don't know what Tanyaki and his mates do. Just keep your trap shut. Well, so it is the Australian who is Mr. Kirk. Yes, but I don't sign any statements till I'm sure Edwards and Danton are safe. That will be arranged.

Lieutenant Succo, the cell door. Yes, Colonel Cagnetti. Come out, Mr. Kirk. Lieutenant Succo, you will get Captain Denton from the courtyard. Yes, Colonel. Will I bring him back to the cell? Remember, Colonel, I don't sign till I'm sure they're safe. Lieutenant, you will escort Denton and Edwards to the British Embassy. Yes, Colonel. How will I know they'll be taken to the British Embassy? You can take the Colonel's word for that, Mr. Kirk. No. Not good enough.

I want to be sure. There is a phone in my office. Stanton and Edwards can phone you from the British Embassy. The code word, if you're safe, Edwards, will be... What a certain sheila wore round her neck. Yeah, I understand. Go to the courtyard, Lieutenant. Yes, Colonel. Shall we go to my office, Mr. Kirk? Yeah. Wilson. My friends call me Snowy. So long, Edwards. So long.

And that concludes tonight's peril story, The Wonderful Deception. Well, friends, we hope you've enjoyed tonight's story.

Join us again next week when we shall hear another exciting experience. Moments of danger and mystery in people's lives in our dramatic stories of peril.

♪♪♪

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When I got the crisp $50 bill in advance, I figured my client had a heart of gold.

But after I was beat up, double-crossed, and shot at, I realized just how hard a heart of gold can be. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character as CBS presents... The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe

And now, with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's unusual story, The Heart of Gold. I had spent the day trying to decide how to spend the day, and finally convinced myself Sunday afternoon was a good time to catch up with neglected bookkeeping. But I only got as far as the office door because a special delivery letter was stuck in the mail slot.

I ripped it open and watched a crisp $50 bill flutter to the floor. Pinning it down with my toe, I turned to the letter, which was dated Saturday. Dear Mr. Marlowe, kindly investigate the party who lives at 1903 North Ogden Street to find out if his name is really Elliot Perdue and what his occupation is. Then please come to my residence at 5 tomorrow, Sunday. I live at the home of a friend, Arthur Stewart, 33 Lemonwood Drive in Bel Air.

I sincerely hope that $50 will be a sufficient retainer. Truly yours, Helen Asher. Judging from the tone of her letter, it was obvious that Helen Asher didn't hire private detectives very often. Nevertheless, I glanced at my watch, which said I had to work very fast, and I headed for 1903 North Ogden. It turned out to be a small house near Selma Street. I got out of my car and walked up to the door.

Good afternoon, sir. You the resident here? That's right. What do you want? I represent the Dr. Potter Poll of Public Opinion. I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding... I'm sorry, but I don't have any opinions to express. Oh, even the opinions of a man with no opinions are important to us. Now, let's just let me step inside here and get out my notebook. There we are. All right, but make it fast. Right. Now, what is your occupation? I'm an investment broker. With which firm? I'm independent. I see. And what is your name, sir? What do you need my name for? Well, for my personal records in case I have to come back.

Elliot Perdue. Uh-huh. Do you have any hobbies other than horse racing? What do you mean? Those dope sheets and racing forms there on your desk. I'm quite an admirer of horse flesh myself. You're quite a character, too, aren't you? Working on Sunday and all. Well, you know how public opinion is. It goes right on, rain, shine, or Sunday. Excuse me a moment. By the way, what's your name? Marlowe. Philip Marlowe. Okay, Mr. Marlowe. Stand still, because I'm not kidding about this gun.

Now beat it back to whoever hired you and tell them they're being very clumsy about a very delicate situation. One more move like this and they won't get another chance. I knew Perdue meant business, so I left without an argument. Well, at least I had a repeat on the name Elliot Perdue and the occupation of bookie to toss at Helen Asher when I met her at five o'clock. In Bel Air, I eventually found 33 Lemonwood Drive. Two hundred yards of palm trees stood at rigid attention while I drove through the gate and up to the house.

When the butler opened the door, he stared at me like my hat was on fire. Yes, sir. Did you wish something? Yes. Yeah, I'd like to see Mrs. Asher, please. Mrs. Asher? Oh, good heavens. Mr. Stewart. What's the matter, Robert? Who is it? I'm Philip Marlowe, Mr. Stewart, a private detective. I have an appointment with Mrs. Asher. Is she at home? Oh, Mr. Marlowe, perhaps you can help. I don't know what to do. It's such a terrible thing. What's happened? Upstairs, not five minutes ago, Mrs. Asher shot herself. Shot herself? Please, if you'd come up with me. Yeah, sure, of course.

I'm certainly grateful for your help, Mr. Marlowe. This is her room. She's in here. There. She's dead all right.

Shot herself in the left temple. Whose gun is that, Mr. Stewart? It's mine. I kept it in the desk downstairs. Did you find it? No, Roberts did. I was out in the hothouse working with my orchids. You see, I've been out of town. I just came in this morning on the super chief from Chicago, and I wasn't expected back until Wednesday. Yeah, look, Mr. Stewart, do you mind telling me how well you knew Mrs. Asher? Oh, very well indeed. Ever since the accident three years ago, she lived in my house under my care. The accident? Yes, that's how she got those scars on her cheek and neck, as you can see.

My hands were burned at the same time. Would you mind telling me about it? Well, I was living in Canada at the time. One day, my wife Florence and I went to a camp near Quebec, and we met Helen Asher our first day there. She was a pathetic, lonely woman, a widow. Oh? That very night, while she was visiting us, the oil stove in our cabin exploded. Oh? Florence, my wife, was killed, and Mrs. Asher was severely burned. It was ghastly. I can imagine.

Mrs. Asher had no one, so I thought the least I could do would be to care for her since I knew the accident had been caused by sheer carelessness on my part. You took over full responsibility for her? Yes, I did everything I could think of, but she never quite got over the shock of that night. Now this. It's horrible. Have you notified the police yet? No. You better do it right now. Yes, I'll go right downstairs and call them. The dead woman on the floor had been beautiful once, no doubt about it. This was my client's.

and a certain $50 bill was burning a hole in my pocket. I wandered over to a writing table, and as I looked down, I noticed that the Sunday sheet had been torn off the memo pad. It bothered me. Tomorrow should mean nothing to a suicide, yet Mrs. Asher's memo pad showed Monday already. The sheet was blank, but on a hunch, I tore it off and stuck it in my pocket. I was about to turn away when I saw a book of matches from the conga club. So I picked that up, too, and then I left. I drove around for some time, trying to figure things out.

Then I went down to police headquarters to see one Lieutenant Ibarra. It's suicide as far as we're concerned, Marlow. Everything checks. Mrs. Asher was despondent and she killed herself. She didn't leave a suicide letter, but they don't always. How'd you get in on this? Well, she paid me 50 bucks in advance to air out a small-time bookie or worse named Elliot Perdue.

Incidentally, what's the background on Arthur Stewart? Oh, he's a big money fashion designer. Started his business on his wife's insurance. She died in an accident in Canada. He did a lot for Mrs. Asher because he felt responsible. Yeah, yeah, I know all that. But was she left-handed? Did Stewart come in on the super chief this morning and was it the butler that found the body? That's right. We checked it all. Hey, look, Phil, do you have any good reason to think this isn't suicide? No, no, not really.

It's just that $50 in advance that bothers me, I guess. Oh, by the way, I've got a piece of paper I'd like the boys in the lab to run a test on, okay? Sure, Casey will fix you up. Uh, Marlowe, I figure suicide now, but I can always change my mind. I went down the hall to the police laboratory and handed the blank page of the memo pad to Casey. Ten minutes later, he explained that the impression showed a left-handed person had written the number...

Bradshaw 7-7-11 with a wide point fountain pen. Probably on the page just above the one I'd given him. Well, I thanked him, dropped four bits in the Christmas fun bottle and found a phone. I dialed Bradshaw 7-7-11 and waited. Hello?

Hello? Who's this? The man in the moon. Come up and see me some other time. Hey, wait a minute. Wait a minute. I like your voice. And besides, 7-7-11 is a very lucky number. Uh-huh. Three passes in a row. But don't let it fool you, Jack. The answer is no dice. Goodbye. Yes, well, I gathered she was in no mood for playing, so I decided to be strictly business and dialed again. Hmm. There was no answer. I let it ring for some time, but Miss Golden Voice obviously wasn't taking any more anonymous calls.

I'd left only the long shot, the book of matches I'd found on Mrs. Asher's desk. The conga club was on the Sunset Strip, so I drove out there, found a parking space on a side street nearby, and went in. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, so I paid a buck ten for a scotch and soda worth 40 cents, just to help pass the time. An amber spotlight was glistening down on a set of sequined contours that would have melted the ice age down to a fortnight. And she was singing. For wherever my man is...

I am his forever. I knew it was Benita, the Congress-featured songstress, and I knew something else, too. There was no mistaking that voice. She was the girl with the lucky phone number.

I wrote her a note, called a waiter to the table to deliver it, and then sat back to watch her as she glided over and sidled into a chair opposite me. It was your penmanship that intrigued me, Mr. Malone. It was your voice and so forth, mostly the so forth, that got me, Bernina. Would you care to decipher the Sanskrit you call a note?

The waiter said you wrote it. Sure. It says important business. That's an idiom. If you wanted to talk turkey, how would you translate it? Do you know a woman named Helen Asher? Not that I remember. Why? Well, your phone number showed up on her memo pad. How do you account for that? How should I know? Maybe she intended to call me up. Look, you're quite a handsome man, Mr. Marlowe.

But you look silly with your nose bent. Why do you keep sticking it into other people's business? Because besides being paid for it, it sometimes leads to meeting interesting and beautiful people. Present company included. What do you want? Mrs. Asher killed herself tonight. Mrs. Asher's dead? Yeah, yeah. And considering you said you didn't know her, you look very put out about it. All right. I'll let you win. But let's not talk about it here.

Finish your drink while I get out of this costume. Then meet me outside by the front door in ten minutes. When she headed for the back of the club, I headed for the front. I got out the door and down to my car just in time to see her leave by the stage entrance. She jumped into a yellow convertible, ripped down Sunset Boulevard, turned down to Doheny and scraped to a halt in front of the Regent Apartments. At the door, a tall sunburned man popped up from somewhere and intercepted her. It was Elliot Perdue.

A short but hot argument took place, and apparently Purdue won because they went in together. I found the name Benita Malone over the mailbox of number five and got to her apartment door just as the second round started. No, I haven't changed my mind, Elliot. I've been doing a little research since you threw me over, Benita. I've got you and your precious plans right here in the palm of my hand. What are you talking about? This. This little heart-shaped locket on this little golden chain. Let me see that. No, no, no, no.

I'm not showing this trinket until just the right moment. Listen, Elliot, I don't know what's brewing in that slimy brain of yours, but get this, if you try to monkey with my life again, so help me, I'll kill you. Now, get out! Benita, would you be interested if I told you that I know Mrs. Asher's secret? And would you be interested if I told you that Mrs. Asher killed herself tonight? That slows you down, doesn't it, bright boy? Yes, but it doesn't stop me, beautiful.

I'll be seeing you before you know it. I ducked into an alcove and heard Benita slam the door on Perdue's coattails as he left. So, now I knew that Perdue, a locket, and Benita Malone added up some way to a bullet in the head for a scarred woman with a secret. I went back to my car and drove out to Stewart's house in Bel Air. When you were here before, Marlowe, I was so upset I hardly realized you were a private detective.

You had an appointment with Mrs. Asher. Had she hired you? Yes, to investigate someone, but she didn't live long enough to give me the details. Now, what sort of trouble could she have been in to have needed a private detective? I don't know, but perhaps you can help me find out by answering a few questions. Anything. Anything at all, Mr. Marlowe. Does the name Elliot Perdue mean anything to you, Mr. Stewart? Elliot Perdue? No, I'm afraid not. How about Benita Malone? I've never heard of her. Hmm.

You know anything about a heart-shaped locket on a gold chain? A locket? A gold locket? Yeah. And Mrs. Asher had a heart-shaped gold locket. Where'd she keep it? Upstairs in her jewelry box, I should imagine. Come on, let's have a look, huh? Yes, right up these stairs here. Come on.

This is her room, Marlowe. I know. I was here once before. Why? It's not here. It's not on her dressing table. Her jewelry box, it's gone, Marlowe. You think that... Elliot Perdue has it. I can't understand this. What's the locket like? What's inside it? Just a picture. It was valued by Mrs. Asher because it was the only one she kept of herself the way she looked before the accident. Now, why would anyone else want that? I don't know. But when we get that locket, we'll get a lot of answers along with it.

Now I was more convinced than ever that Elliot Perdue, Benita, and the late Mrs. Asher's secret were all dangling from the same chain that supported the gold locket. I said goodnight to Arthur Stewart and started back for Hollywood. A moment later, I changed my mind and abruptly swung onto a shadowed side road and parked lights out. It had suddenly occurred to me that the gallivanting Mr. Perdue might call on Stewart. If so, I wanted to be on hand. Forty minutes later, I was about to call off the cloak and dagger routine when I...

I heard the sound of a powerful motor roaring out of Stuart's driveway. I looked up just in time to see a long black Nash whip by with Stuart at the wheel. From the speed of the car, I was certain he wasn't going out for the morning papers.

I decided to go back to the house and question the butler while I could have him to myself. Oh, why, no, Mr. Marlowe, I haven't any idea where Mr. Stewart went. I only know that he had a telephone call after which he dashed out of the house highly upset. Well, maybe some sick friend needed sitting up with, huh? But tell me, Roberts, did you ever hear of a man named Elliot Perdue? Oh, yes, sir. He called on Mrs. Asher here once or twice while Mr. Stewart was away on business. When did you last see this Mr. Perdue, Roberts? Yesterday morning, sir, about 10 o'clock. Hmm.

And one thing more, did you ever see Mrs. Asher wearing a gold locket, a heart-shaped one? Oh, quite often, sir. As a matter of fact, she asked me about it just yesterday morning, shortly after Mr. Perdue left. She couldn't locate it anyplace. A singular coincidence, huh? Oh, by the way, what do you know about a singer named Benita? Benita? I've never heard of her, sir. Are you sure she's never been out here as Mr. Stewart's guest? Why, I'm positive, sir. Mr. Stewart never has any ladies out here of any kind. Oh?

Doesn't that strike you as being strange, Roberts? After all, Mr. Stewart's a very eligible widower. Widower, yes, Mr. Marlowe, but philanderer, no. Good night, sir. As I drove back to Hollywood, I tried to figure out where Arthur Stewart had gone. But I had about as much to work with as Gypsy Rose Lee after a third encore. And after discounting Benita's place in the conga, there was only Elliot Perdue's house on North Ogden.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked up to it, but the place was as dark and as quiet as the inside of a coffin. I was about to turn back to my car when suddenly I caught the reflection of a sliver of light bouncing off the glass in Mr. Perdue's living room. I found the back door lock easy to block. A moment later, I stepped into the living room. Marlowe, how did you know I was here? Mr. Stewart told me. You're a liar. Arthur wouldn't... Arthur? I... Well, you see, Mr. Stewart and I... Oh, now it's Mr. Stewart, huh?

Wait a minute. There's someone outside. Purdue. Put out your light. Now, when he finds you, keep talking. Say anything. I'll be behind the door. Here he is. Well, Benita. What a waste of time, my dear. While you've been here rearranging my socks, I've been talking to your boyfriend with the locket safely tucked away right here in my breast pocket. How clever of you. How absolutely ingenious. It's a bit late for nasty words between us, Benita, because possession of you was part of the bargain I struck with Mr. Stewart. You see, we...

What are you staring at? My big blue eyes, Bertu. Don't move or I'll blast you. You'll do nothing. Get the gun, Benita. Now, Bertu, we'll play some more. Now the gentleman's breast pocket. Here it is, Benita. Safe and sound. Which is just the way I want it, Phil. What? My own gun. Why, you beautiful snake. The locket, Marlowe. Come on, I get nervous with one of these things in my hands. Throw it here. Thank you. Now when I leave, Phil, don't come after me.

Because I'd hate to fill you full of little holes. Good night. Yeah. When Benita stepped out of that house, I solemnly swore I wouldn't trust another woman for the next hundred years. A groan from the body on the floor brought me back to 1948 and Elliot Perdue. I knew that he had seen the picture in the locket, so I went to work on him. Come on, Perdue, snap out of it. Come on. Huh?

Oh, it's you, Marlowe. Who'd you expect? St. Peter? What was in the locket, Perdue? I don't remember. Maybe a call on Lieutenant E. Burrow will refresh your memory. I doubt it. Then we better start playing games again. We'll start with one called Slap, Slap, Perdue. No, no, let me alone, Marlowe. Get your hands off me. You're ready to start singing, huh? All we need now is the right lyrics. Come on, Perdue, talk. Stop it, stop it. I'll talk. Good. Now, why did Mrs. Asher kill herself? Because she had a good reason. Like what? It's a long story. Make it short.

Okay, Marlowe. Here goes. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Lieutenant Ibarra speaking. Marlow Ibarra has a five-minute-old corpse lying in his living room at 1903 North Ogden. Name is Elliot Perdue. Three shots through a closed window. I was lucky. Any description of the killer? No, none. Now, look, Ibarra, right now I'm going after a songbird named Benita Malone at the Regent Apartments on Doheny. Will you cover me there without sirens? Sure, Marlow. I'll attend to it in person. ♪♪

It was only a healthy center field as Peg from Bidu's house to Bonita's. When I got there, the place was dark and a car wasn't in sight. I decided to try the conga club. But as soon as I walked in, I began to worry because if Bonita had wanted to get rid of that locket, she'd have had enough time to bury it at Forest Lawn. But I didn't know Bonita because Miss Oomph herself was singing in the amber spotlight and dangling from her soft white neck was the heart-shaped gold locket. Because he's wonderful.

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

She was distinctly a thing of beauty. Yes.

Well, Phil, what do you think of my singing? Oh, I'm just crazy about it. That and your jewelry. Especially that locket, family heirloom. Mm-hmm. It was more or less handed down to me, generation to generation. That's an old Spanish custom. Yeah, yeah, so I've been told. And I imagine tradition prohibits your parting with it, huh? That's right. Unless, of course, someone... someone with oodles of money offers me lots of it in exchange.

Then naturally I'd be obliged to part with her. I don't think you'd feel obliged to your mother on the second Sunday in May. Besides, I don't have oodles of money. Oh, you should have told me that earlier. Goodbye, good-looking. Hey, wait a minute. We couldn't do any business in a minute. And don't follow me if you want to stay pretty. She pivoted on a spike heel and took off for a dressing room, and I knew that if I followed, I was scheduled for a nasty titty tape with an ape in a tuxedo.

When I made the lower floor and saw that the long corridor to her room was empty, I knew the setup. The ape would be on the other side of the door waiting. Benita still had my gun, so I got the nearest substitute for a blackjack, a full bottle of Paul Masson champagne. Then I walked noisily down the corridor as far as her door and knocked. Turned the knob slowly, kicked the door open and stood clear. It worked.

The ape's hairy hand was wrapped around my gun and it came down in an arc that was never interrupted. And that left him off balance. The ape hit the floor and before Benita had a chance to close him off, I ripped the locket from my neck, picked my gun up and ran. I didn't stop until I collapsed against the stall window. Then I opened up the locket. Two minutes ran out of me before I realized what was wrong with the picture. Then I knew. Arthur Stewart's home in Bel-Air was my next stop. ♪♪

Thirty minutes later, I pulled up away from the place and parked. In keeping in the shadows, I approached the house where only the library and an upstairs bedroom showed any light. The library had French windows. When I moved up close, I was startled by the sight of a figure going through Stuart's desk. I stepped into the room and found it was my little friend, Benita. I've got my own gun again, Benita. Phil. Doing a little dusting, honey? Oh, don't be funny. I'm not trying to. How is it you're not upstairs helping Stuart pack? Because I've already finished packing, Mr. Marlowe. And don't turn around.

That was well done, Benita. Oh, fine. Sucked in by a little decoy sprinkled with sequins. Don't mind the prose, Marlowe. Just toss your gun on the couch over there. Now.

That's better. You know, Marlowe, I can't say that I'm very sorry for you. I don't expect condolences from a character who murdered a woman this afternoon and a man this evening. You killed Mrs. Asher? Yes, and that blackmailing scum purdue as well. But both murders were very necessary, Benita, even as Marlowe's here will be. Come over here, Benita, behind me. Hurry, Arthur, let's get out of here. Don't worry. And now, Mr. Marlowe, it's time for you.

Well, thanks, Benita. You swing a beautiful bookend. You know, I had you figured all wrong. Oh, don't mention it, dear. I heard the cops coming anyway. You sweet child. We're in here, Ibarra, all of us. Well, Marlow, I figured you'd be out here when you didn't show up at that songbird's place. Well, what's this? A little man on the floor with a large bump on his head is Arthur Stewart, the man who killed Elliot Perdue to keep him from telling me the truth about Mrs. Asher.

And the man who killed her this afternoon. So Mrs. Asher didn't commit suicide after all. No, but she wasn't murdered either. She died in that accident in Canada three years ago. What are you talking about? Well, the woman that Stewart killed here this afternoon wasn't Mrs. Asher. It was his wife, Mrs. Florence Stewart.

You see, there must have been a mix-up in identifying the bodies of the two women at the time of the accident. Mm-hmm. Stewart and his wife had Mrs. Asher buried as Mrs. Stewart. And they collected the insurance. Neat, huh? Yeah. But what happened? It's simple. Stewart got bored with his scarred and unattractive wife, and he started running around with choice little numbers. Like Benita here. To be honest, I didn't know a thing about this. Stewart told me that Mrs. Asher depended on him so heavily that she'd be crushed at his seeing another woman...

But I didn't know she was his wife. Marlowe, how do you figure this all out? From a locket that belonged to the woman we knew as Mrs. Asher. It had a picture of Stuart and Mrs. Asher taken in dress clothes before she was scarred. Yet Stuart claimed that he and his wife had only met Mrs. Asher the day of the accident. And on a camping trip at that. But, Phil, I saw the picture, too, and I didn't figure that out. That's because you were too busy trying to figure just how much the locket was worth to Arthur Stuart. Or to anybody. In cold cash.

You were blinded by all the dollar signs in front of your eyes, baby. Why, Phil, how can you say such things? Now, Marlowe, just so I don't toss and turn all night, tell me just why you were hired in the first place. Well, Ibarra, it goes something like this. When Perdue knew that he was losing Benita to Stewart, he decided to check up on the opposition. And he not only found out what he wanted to know, but he found out a lot of things, too, that he didn't want to know. Mrs. Stewart, the late Mrs. Asher, became suspicious of his questioning...

And incidentally, of her husband. So she sent for me. Well, Marlow Stewart certainly had me fooled. I doped him out to be a very generous guy, a great benefactor who was doing the right thing for a lonely, unfortunate woman. Yeah. Looked like he had a heart of gold, all right. But a funny thing, Ibarra. In the end, it was this heart of gold, this locket here that got him. Mind if I keep it? Not at all. You had a tough enough time getting hold of it. Good night, Phil. Good night.

Well, by the time I got back to my apartment on Franklin, the sky was beginning to fill with a soft gray of morning. I pulled the blinds down in my bedroom and sat down for a last cigarette. I'd mixed with a lot of funny people that day. For some cock-eyed reason, I kept thinking of Benita Malone, a girl who was no better than she had to be.

Finally, I put her out of my mind, and I was about to turn off the desk lamp when I noticed my memo pad. It still read Sunday, which was understandable. What scrawled across the top sheet was a telephone number, and I couldn't figure how it got there. It was written in crimson lipstick. Bradshaw 7. 7-11.

The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, created by Raymond Chandler, stars Gerald Moore and is produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. Featured in tonight's cast were Gloria Blondell, John Daner, Jack Moyles, and Ben Wright. Detective Lieutenant Ibarra was played by Jeff Corey. The special music was conceived and conducted by Richard Orant. Be sure to be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says...

They were all after it. An importer, a beautiful woman, a nut, and a guy I couldn't figure out. But before we were through, one was in the hospital, two were in the morgue, and the fourth was waiting for the hangman. All that because of a blue bourgonette, something I'd never even heard of before. ♪♪

Dr. Fabian, the ship's doctor in cabin B-13, tells a new story of danger in far ports tonight over most of the CBS network stations. Tonight's story, The Island of Coffins, is another original drama by John Dixon Carr, famed mystery writer. You can hear it when the ship's whistles sound outside cabin B-13. ♪♪

This is Roy Rowan speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.

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♪♪♪

seafood, and many more. Themed menus each night accompanied with fun giveaways and entertainment from 4 until 9 p.m. Fridays through Sundays at the Grand Falls Buffet at Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort.

The new Hawaiian Bros Island Grill in Phoenix has all the vibes. Amazing island-inspired flavors, huge servings, super positive people, incredibly fast drive-thru, an awesome rewards program, and this huli huli chicken with extra teriyaki sauce that's about to become my lunch. Hawaiian Bros. It's a vibe. Look us up at hawaiianbros.com for dine-in, pickup, or delivery.

♪♪♪

and many more. Themed menus each night accompanied with fun giveaways and entertainment from 4 until 9 p.m. Fridays through Sundays at the Grand Falls Buffet at Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort. Experience holiday cheer at Tanger Outlets with savings up to 70% off your favorite brands. From fragrances to accessories and the latest styles.

Discover the best gifts for everyone on your list. Save big at Nike Factory Store, Michael Kors, Under Armour, Coach, Paula Ralph Lauren, Kate Spade New York, and so many more. Unwrap the best at Tanger Outlets. Hundreds of brands, endless gifting options. Plan your trip at Tanger.com. The price of fear.

Brought to you by Vincent Price. Hello there. Do you like fish? To eat, I mean. Not to look at or catch. Well, I do. I am, in fact, one of the world's most compulsive piscobores.

I find there is an almost ritual purity about fish. The Japanese, you know, eat their fish raw, shredding and flaking the flesh and dipping it into piquant sauces, soya, horseradish, that sort of thing. The effect can be delicious, a delicate point and counterpoint, air and descant, plucking at the palate.

The taste can be exquisite, and yet if you should think too hard about those raw, gelatinous strips of fish, you may find the feel of them, the sight of them even, is somehow obscene. But then my attitude in these matters is colored by a most unnerving experience I underwent in Australia.

I'll call this story simply Fish, because as each stage of the episode unfolded, it was impressed on my memory by some piscatorial piece of gastronomic delight. It started in a Sydney restaurant about five years ago, with a dozen of the celebrated rock oysters with lemon and cayenne pepper and all the usual trimmings,

I was lunching with a young Australian, Greg Rosmark, an aspiring actor who wanted to come to work in London. We were just debating whether another half dozen would be sheer bliss or pure greed when suddenly... Vincent? It is Vincent, isn't it? Vincent Price? Well, yes. Jane Willemsey?

I don't suppose you remember. But we did once actually work on a film together. Well...

Yes, I believe I do remember. It was a long time ago. At Elstree, wasn't it? That's right. I strangled you. What a charming fellow. But I only strangle the nicest people. Sorry, Jane. Let me introduce you to Greg. Greg Rossmark. He's also an actor. An eminently unsuccessful one. Hello. How do you do? Won't you join us? No, no, thank you very much. I must be going.

Are you working over here now, Miss Willamsie? In the theatre, I mean. Oh, no. No, the theatre gave me out for dead right after Vincent strangled me. Well, I can't believe that I was that realistic. It was probably just symbolic of something or other.

Don't you miss it? The, uh, theater? Maybe. But you can't have everything, can you? Sure you won't join us, though. There seems so much we might talk about. No, no, really, I can't. Richard's already waiting at the table, and he's due to start glowering any moment now. Oh, that's a shame.

Look, how long are you here for? Oh, just a week or so. I start filming in Hong Kong at the end of the month. Why don't you come over to lunch with us on Sunday? Well, I... We're only over at Manly. And I'm a much better cook than I ever was an actress. Well, I'd love to come. Oh, yes.

Well, very well. Then we'll both come. Oh, well, fine. Well, is number six Sandy Avenue? It's right on the beach. You can't miss it. Right till Sunday, then. Any time after twelve? We'll be there. Bye. Bye-bye. Bye. Lovely woman.

I do apologize, Vincent. Whatever for? Pawning in on your invitation like that, it obviously threw you. Well, I suppose it did. I just wasn't expecting it so much. No, neither was she. I was trying to stampede you into accepting. You succeeded admirably. I don't see why, though. I thought that you were going to refuse. Well, would that have been so disastrous? Not to you, maybe, but it...

It might have been to her. I don't see how it could have been. I haven't seen her for years, and I barely knew her even then. Yes, I know, I know, but there's just something about her. It's, uh... Well, it's sort of difficult to put your finger on, but the eyes were out of phase with the voice. All the while she was talking, the eyes looked, um...

Well, they looked hunted. Oh, come on, Greg. Don't let your imagination run away with you. Imagination be damned. Imagination. What is imagination? A mental trick.

A simple piece of slight of mind that projects facts into fantasy, or fantasies into fact. Anyway, the following Sunday, Greg picked me up at my hotel and drove us out across the Sydney Harbour Bridge towards the North Shore and Manly.

The other day in the restaurant, Vincent, when Jane Willemsey introduced herself, did you really remember her right off, just like that? Yes, yes, she wasn't the sort of woman you'd forget easily, especially after a performance in that film. Was she good? Yes.

In it, very good. On it, positively scandalous. Is it? Oh, yes, quite literally so. She brought the picture to a grinding halt about halfway through the schedule. Well, how'd she manage that? She ran off with the director. Oh, yes, she took off just like that. Left us, her husband, everybody flat and just took off. Believe me, it was no laughing matter. It couldn't have been.

Well, at least it wasn't at that time. We had to get a new director in and a new lady for me to strangle. And we reshot every scene that Jane had been in. Oh, it was an absolute nightmare. And, uh...

And what happened to her, James? She just disappeared. They both did. Off the set, out of the business, off the face of the earth, for all I knew. Her husband hired some inquiry agents to find them, and for a few weeks we were all up to our ears in private eyes. I sometimes wonder why he bothered it.

Could hardly have come as a surprise to him, not with a woman like that. A woman like what? Well, she was younger then, of course, a lot more arrogant. She seemed to generate a sort of sexual electricity. She had an almost animal magnetism that could devastate a man. I'll tell you something, Vincent. What? She still got it.

I wonder what her husband's like. Well, more important, I wonder if he's a film director. Or even an ex-film director. I guess we'll soon find out. We did, and he wasn't a film director.

Jane's husband turned out to be a broker on the Sydney Stock Exchange, but even that turned out to be more of a sideline. His real occupation was swimming, surfing, yachting, all the classic activities of the professional outdoor type. Richard was a good outdoor cook, too, and what he could do with an open fire was beyond belief.

It's coming on nicely. Won't be long, Jensen. You always eat alfresco like this, Richard? We only make a thing of it at the weekend. Well, I can think of worse ways of passing the time. Erase him out! Right, you're on! Come on! Nice to see Jane enjoying herself so much. God! I'm exhausted. I'm not surprised. My serve takes it out of you. Especially when you're not used to it. Greg was...

Oh, he was teaching me to ride the surf. Yes, I saw. Greg, what's that marking? What? Where? There on your leg. Oh, that's a birthmark. Oh, I'm sorry. It's all right. It's almost a family crest. It occurs at least once in every generation in our family. What, always in the same place? No, but it's usually on an arm or a leg somewhere, and it's always, but always the same shape. You see? An open rose.

Oh, yes. Now you point it out, it is like a rose. My uncle, my grandfather, theirs were identical. That's extraordinary. How far does that go back? Well, you see, my family's name is Rosmark. And I suppose originally it was Rosmark. But, well, God knows when that started. Yes.

Well, that really does smell delicious, Richard. It's coming on. What is it inside the tinfoil, I mean? It's a whole baked tie. Is that that fish that looked like a snapper? In fact, it is a snapper, but I always call it a tie if I'm doing a Japanese style. There's no great difference anyway. I thought the Japanese always ate their fish raw. This is one case where they don't.

It really is very good eating. Richard carves it off in great chunks and you dip it in the shoyu sauce. Well, I can hardly wait. Tell me, where on earth did you learn to cook food Japanese style, Richard? I find any style of cooking absolutely fascinating. We were taught this by a party of Japanese stockbrokers that we took fishing. What sort of fishing? Tuna, barracuda, marlin, if you're lucky. Oh, the big game bets, huh?

Richard had his own boat down the coast at Burma Gooey. We chartered it out most of the time, but we reserved a few odd weeks for ourselves. You go fishing, Jane? No. He prefers to stay here. Hmm, I can imagine. It must be a far cry from Elstree to Burma Gooey. Don't drag all that up, Rosamund. For Pete's sake. Drag all what up? The theatres, the bright lights and all that crap. It must better up where she is. Aren't you, Jane? Yes.

Did you two know each other before... Before what? Well, before... Before Jane gave up the theater. Why, yes, of course. I married her when she was still a drama student. And in the end, it was me who made her give it all up. Wasn't it, darling? I could hardly believe it. This was the husband that she had left on her runaway romance. What could have happened...

Had he found her, or had she come back to him? And what about the flyaway film director? What had happened to him? Well, when I got back to London, I mentioned his name around a few times to see if I got any response. I didn't. People remembered him, but no one had seen or heard of him since. He had run off with that actress, as they put it.

They'd both run off, of course, but only Jane had come back. I wondered. So dark a thought. So dark a thought it lodged unnoticed in the shadows of my memory until...

Last year, when I went back to Australia, back to Sydney, perhaps it was the same unnoticed thought that made me phone the one-time Jane Willemsley and her husband to invite them both to dinner. I remember the occasion well. We had a quite extraordinary Australian hock with a quite excellent lobster a la Moricanne.

How long will you be in Australia this time? Oh, only a few more days, then I go to Japan for eight weeks of filming. Might come back here after that, though, just for a short vacation trip. Oh, well, then you must come up to stay with us in Brisbane. It'd be lovely to see you. Yes. Didn't Richard tell you? Tell me what, Richard? We're moving house. To Brisbane? Just outside, actually. Why? Why?

Richard has decided to retire. Retire? That's a bit premature, Richard. Surely you must be at least 20 years old. Yes, but there's no point in waiting until you're too old to enjoy yourself, is there now? Well, what will you do in Brisbane? Fish. Mostly. I've sold my business interests here in Sydney and invested in a couple of boats. Powerful engines, properly fitted out. You know, chair, rods, harpoons, flotation barrels, a lot.

We can take anything. Sailfish, black marlin, the big sharks, the tigers and the great whites. Yes, but why do you go all the way up to Brisbane? I mean, why not stay in Bermagui? That was Richard's decision. The charter rates are much higher up in Queensland. Better fishing all the year round, too.

Richard's going to skip one of the boats himself. Well, what will you do, Jane? I'm sure there'll be a great deal to keep me occupied. You'll probably enjoy it once you get settled in. We'll see.

Have you seen Greg? Greg? Oh, Greg Rossmark, you mean. Now, did he ever go to London? I gave him my address and everything and... No, he didn't go. Why not? Well, who can tell with a bloke like that?

Have you seen anything of him recently? No. Yes. Not recently. How is he? Fine. Is he working? No. He gave up the theater. After dinner, I saw them to their car with a promise that I would visit them in Brisbane on my return from Japan. I watched them out of sight and turned to walk down to my hotel in the cool night air.

Suddenly I became quite chillingly aware that someone was walking almost at my shoulder, following me.

I found myself looking for his reflection in the glass of the shop windows. I saw a suit that had once been smart, but the face was turned undeviatingly away from the reflection, looking, no, staring. I could feel it staring at me. The compulsion to run was overwhelming, but so was the feeling that he would run after me.

I stopped. Suddenly I had to turn and face him out. Vincent. It is Vincent, isn't it? Vincent Price. Yes. Do you remember me? Greg. With the rose mark on his leg. Greg, Greg, Rossmark. Of course, I hardly recognized you. Are you all right? Let's just say that I'm sort of sick. You were with her, weren't you?

You mean Jane? Yes, I've just had dinner with her and Richard. Yes, I saw you. Did she mention me? Well, she said she hadn't seen you recently. No, no. He won't let her, not since he found out. Found out, huh? Well, is that why you never went to England? Yes. It, uh, happened again. You see, we, uh...

Oh, you wouldn't understand. You mean you ran away together? No. Everything but that, funnily enough. She wouldn't come with me. She... she was frightened. Frightened of what? Of him, of course. She's terrified of him. Then, when he found out about us, she refused to see me again. She sends my letters back unopened.

Every time I phone, she bursts into tears and keeps saying, well, moaning, stay away, for God's sake, stay away from me. Oh, the way she says it, it tears the heart out of you.

And... I... No, it's not what she wants to say. I can tell. Greg, maybe she's right. Oh, no. Otherwise, he wouldn't be taking her away from here. Far away where he thinks I won't follow. Well, he's wrong. You can tell him from me that he's wrong. I'll follow wherever he takes her. I'll follow to the ends of the earth if need be. You tell her that, will you?

to the ends of the earth, to the ends of the earth. He shuffled off backwards into the night until the shadows seemed to engulf him completely, leaving me with only the recollection of the desperation in his eyes and the strained emotion of his voice.

As I turned into my hotel, I knew that I would need a vacation after my work in Japan had finished. Knew that I wanted to try my hand at big game fishing. And so, nine weeks later, I found myself on the open patio of Jane and Richard's new house, eating homemade croissant and drinking fresh ground coffee in the pale sunshine of an early morning in Queensland.

Like some more coffee, Vincent? Oh, please. And by the way, I congratulate you on your foie gras. They're delicious. I don't know how you can face the day with just that inside of you.

It's a woman's breakfast. Well, I certainly couldn't face a day at sea with a stomach full of bacon, sausage, eggs. And tomato. Don't forget the tomato. It keeps the corpuscles coming the right color. At least that's what my old granny used to say. Well, mine said they gave you appendicitis. I've never been fishing before, Vincent. No. No, I never seem to have had the time. And I've never been convinced that I had the patience. I know what you mean, but...

This is nothing like ordinary angling. You see, you don't just sit around and wait for the fish to come. You have to go out and look for them. Well, you have to know where to look, presumably. Well, I seem to know where to look for shark. Richard's landed more sharks in the past fortnight than anyone can remember. He's making quite a name for himself. What kind of sharks do you get in these waters? Oh, the worst sorts, or best sorts.

According to your point of view, tigers, mako, hammerheads. I've even taken a couple of whites. Small ones, of course, but even the small ones...

A man, it is. What happens if you meet a big one? You've got a fight on your hand. That could be real sport. Yes. Well, I'll just go and load up a car. I'll give you a hand. Richard will see to it. You finish your coffee in peace. You stay put. I know where everything goes. Vincent. What? I don't know.

I wanted to ask you something. Ask. Have you seen anything of Greg? I saw him that night that I had dinner with you both in Sydney. Not since then? No. Why? Did he say anything about me? Well, he did say he'd follow you. Follow me here? Anywhere. To the ends of the earth. That's what he said. Oh, God, no. Not again. What's the matter? He's here.

He's in Brisbane. You've seen him? He phoned me. When was that? Two... No, nearly three weeks ago. And you haven't heard from him since? No. I told him to keep away, to go back to Sydney and forget me. Perhaps he did. Do you really think so? Do you? No. Go on, Vincent. Time to get moving. Why don't you come, Jane?

With only us two fishing, you could try your hand. No, thanks. Anyway, I want to go into town today. What for? Well, you need more socks for a start. And maybe another shirt. Oh. Yeah, okay. Drive carefully. I will. Have a good day. You too, Vincent. Have a good day. Have a good week. Have a good year. Have a good life. What does it mean?

as if you can wish anything on anyone or induce even the most marginal change in patterns of events that have been irrevocably precast in the unyielding concrete of too many yesterdays. A good day it was then in the sense that the sky was blue and the sun was warm and the swell of the ocean

was at its most pacific. Good boat. And a good crew in the shape of Jack, a laconic ex-swagman from the Northern Territories. All it needed was good fish. I wish that had been all we got. Patience, Mr. Price. That's what's needed out here. But they're not biting today, Jack. They will. They always do. Give the bag another bang, Jack. Right-o. What is that thing?

A dubby bag. A bee bag. Yeah, just hang it over the side of the boat and it leaves a trail behind you for miles. As soon as anything finds it, it turns and follows it right onto the hook. At least that's the theory. What have you got inside it? It's what we call chum. That's a sort of polite way of saying smelly bits of fish and meat and awful. Especially awful.

Anything that'll lose blood and oil into the water. Yeah, you're beginning to sound like a film, I know. Fish don't know that, do they? They just follow their noses. Well, I wonder what'll turn up today. Shark. Shark.

That's all he seems to be interested in. Well, he'll have to take what comes, though, won't he? I mean, he can't pick and choose. Well, he does. At least he seems to. Well, how can he? This is not possible. You can't just whistle up which fish you want. No, but you can't take all the bait fish out of the dubby bag and just leave bloody meat in there. Then what you put into the water is not so much an oil slick as a blood trail. That'll bring the sharks running.

But you know, Jack, I don't understand this obsession of his with sharks. I really don't. You can't say either. Ah, they're not as good as Marlin, a sailfish. They don't have the heart. Remember what the skipper said on fighting the big great white. Well, I only hope that's not a death wish. We've got a visitor, Jack. What's that? A big one. What is it? Tiger. About ten foot of him. Better get into the chair, Mr. Price. Yes, sir. There we go. Right.

Hurry up. He's circling for the strike. Steady. Yeah. Here he comes. Okay. Now, let him run. He's only holding on to it yet. Uh-huh. Don't strike until he stops and starts to bite on it. Right. And strike hard, and don't stop to pick the daisies. I'll tell you when. Okay. He's slowed. Wait for it. Uh-huh. He's turning. He's turning.

Now, hit him! My god, this way it turns! Oh... What happened? The line broke. Oh...

What was the breaking strain on that line? Around 1,000 pounds. Oh, my. That's some fish you had there, Vincent. Shall I rig another hook? Yeah, Jack, might as well. Well, do you think he's still around? Depends if he's still got the hook in him. Hey! Hey, there he is! Where? Right under the stern! Oh. What's he doing that for? He's circling. Why? Why?

We've got nothing out. Here he comes. He's going to attack the boat. How can this happen? Boss, he's crazy. This man is a bloody meathead. Get the hot tool. I've got it. Get off. You crazy bastard. Get off.

What the hell was all that about? I've never known that happen before. Whatever it was, I'd prefer it not to happen again. It's the truth. He was after the dubby bag. What? See for yourself. We looked over the stern of the boat. The shark had indeed attacked the dubby bag.

He'd torn over half of it away from its rope. The gristly, gory bait, or chum, as Jack called it, was already dispersing through the water. And then I saw the canvas, a shredded piece of the bag that had been torn away from the rest. It was floating precariously just below the surface of the water. On it was a piece of meat, a small piece of meat with a yellowish, bloodied skin. And on the skin was a mark of...

A distinctive mark in the shape of an open rose. Then the movement of the sea washed it off its canvas raft and committed it forever to the deep. Well, next time you eat fish, you may care to remember this little episode, but I hope it doesn't put you off.

I'm still a committed piscevore, with the single exception that I will never, never eat fish and chips in Australia. Flake and chips, as they call it. It's a great favorite out there. But flake, of course, is shark meat. Goodbye. Bon appétit.

That was Vincent Price bringing you The Price of Fear with Bruce Beebe, Louis Fahender, Amanda Murray and Bill Kerr. This story, Fish, was first recounted and dramatized by René Basilico and produced by John Doss.

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♪♪♪

and many more. Themed menus each night accompanied with fun giveaways and entertainment from 4 until 9 p.m. Fridays through Sundays at the Grand Falls Buffet at Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort. Experience holiday cheer at Tanger Outlets with savings up to 70% off your favorite brands. From fragrances to accessories and the latest styles.

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and many more. Themed menus each night accompanied with fun giveaways and entertainment from 4 until 9 p.m. Fridays through Sundays at the Grand Falls Buffet at Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort. Experience holiday cheer at Tanger Outlets with savings up to 70% off your favorite brands. From fragrances to accessories and the latest styles.

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♪♪♪

seafood, and many more. Themed menus each night accompanied with fun giveaways and entertainment from 4 until 9 p.m. Fridays through Sundays at the Grand Falls Buffet at Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort. Quiet, please. Quiet, please. ♪♪

The Mutual Broadcasting System presents Quiet Please, which is written and directed by Willis Cooper and which features Ernest Chappell. Quiet Please for tonight is called Little Fellow. I can do something you can't do. I can walk under a table. I mean standing up straight. Well, you got a table? I'll show you. Good looking in the right place.

Two feet, three inches, that's me. Major Theobald J. Ockwright, the smallest man in the world. With capital letters, the smallest man in the world. For 25 cents a quart of a dollar, five thick nickels, you can come and stand and gawk at me like all the other folks I've booed. And snicker at the cute little man on the platform. And ask the dumbest questions in the world. And I have to smirk back at you and be polite.

When I'd give the 802 bucks I got for my grouch bag to brain each and every one of you. Preferably with a sponge. Better to take longer that way. So I can walk under a table hot stuff, huh? Yeah, but what the heck, it's a living, isn't it? I got a job while you birds have to think twice whether you spend the two bits to take a gander at me or save it for a loaf of bread for tonight's supper. So don't laugh at the midget fellas. You look just as funny to me as I do to you. You know what I mean? I got friends, see? Now stack mine up against yours.

Like Darling, for instance. Meet the folks, Darling. Not to the folks. Lovable people, Darling. Suck it. Darling loves practically everybody. I live off of sucking. Well, that's what I said. Darling's a magician, pal. Darling saws ladies in half. And boy, would I give a quarter to see him saw some of you girls in half. Nah, little bitsy pieces.

Some of you dames that stand in front of my platform and leer at me and whisper and tee-hee and grin at me with your great big ugly mouth. Yeah. I'd give a flock of quarters for that, darling. Okay, so I sound bitter, huh? Well, palsy, how would you sound if practically everybody you know is three times as big as you? Eh, take it easy. I'm not going into my song and dance for you. Just you think about it sometime while you're resting. It'll give you the willies. Eh, midgets got no dignity.

You get introduced to a full-sized character and he giggles when he shakes your hand. You ever read Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire? Well, I did. You write poetry? Well, I do. And I get it published. Publisher doesn't know I'm a midget. You got 14 suits of clothes? Well, I have. All right, I said I wouldn't gripe, only... It'd gosh you to be something to be able to look a beautiful girl in the eye sometime. Without tilting your head back like you're gaping at that thing on top of the Empire State...

Look in her in the eyes and not have her put on that silly smile girls keep for puppies and kittens and cute babies. You know what I mean? No, I guess you don't. Well, hand me the cigar box, darling. Go on yourself. These are Corona Belinda spells. These are 60 cents a coffee. What do you smoke? Oh, no.

I know what's griping you, Major. You think you do, huh, darling? Girl trouble. Yeah? Yeah. It's none of your business, bud. Who is it? Did I say something about your business? Jennifer. Lay off of Jennifer. Jennifer's a nice girl, mate. I think so. Being a fat lady ain't a bad racket. Yeah, you get to sit down a lot. She in love with you, too? What's this love stuff? Answer the question. So if she is, so what?

She's a nice kid. Also, she's about ten times as big as me. Would you marry her if you was her size? Huh? Well, I would want to be a little bit taller, darling. Sure. Say, like, three times as tall as you are now. Yeah. Yeah, that'll be okay. Well, shut up. I'm a midget. I'm going to stay a midget. Oh? I wish there was something to this here magic racket of yours. You mean? I'd have you make a magic pass and I'd look as if I'm full size. Yeah.

About the only way I'd ever get to be. That's right. So let's talk about something else, huh? You're really in love with Jennifer, huh, Midge? For the record, darling, I am beating my brains out about her. You love her? Yes, I do. Now shut up. Midge, I'm gonna do something for you. For how much dough? For free. Let me up. I'm choking.

This here thing is an ancient Egyptian genuine scarecrow. California gross for mills, brother. This is legit magic, Major. This is an ornament from the royal robes of Cleopatra, the beauteous siren of the Nile, handed down from father to son in an unbroken generation from the days of the pharaoh. Here's your time off, Bayard. It's yours, Major. You use it. What's it for? You get three wishes with it. You get your three? Yep. What was it?

Never mind what they want. You use it. It's yours. Okay, thanks, darling. I wouldn't give that thing to everybody, Major. Okay, you want to play some poker? Be careful with that thing. Said you want to play some poker? Listen, lay that thing on the table now where you can't reach it. Why? You think I'm going to play poker with a guy that's got three wishes in his mitt? How stupid can you get? Well, anyway, it's a pretty night.

That'd be a pretty night after dropping 46 bucks to that old... I should play poker. I should play marbles or something. Eh, nuts. I'm going to sit down and smoke a cigar and look at the moon. Oh, boy, Jennifer. Oh, Jennifer. Gosh, if I was only a full-size guy. No use wishing, though. Jennifer, baby, if I was a full-size guy, I could get a job, and I wouldn't have to have people staring at me all day and all night. And I'd earn enough, though, so as...

You wouldn't have to be a fat lady anymore. We'd have such a swell time. Fat girl and a midget. Terrific breakfast. Oh, golly, look at that moon. I sure wish Jennifer was here. Jennifer! Ouch. Well, where did you come from? What? Major...

I was sound asleep, and all of a sudden, boom, here I am. I didn't see you coming. Did you walk in your sleep, darling? What? Oh, my goodness, my nightgown. Well, you freeze to death. Here, here, here, take my coat. I'll put it over my head.

Oh, my goodness. I don't know how I got here. No kidding, darling? No kidding. I'm asleep, and then I'm here. Oh, what a bump. Good thing I'm well padded. Oh, you poor darling. I've got to go back. I've got to go back.

I can't sit here on the beach in my nightgown, for heaven's sake. No, no, certainly not. No, indeed, Jennifer. You catch your death of cold or something, darling. I've got to go back. I'll walk you back, darling. This here is the most mysterious thing I ever heard of. Gee, I'll say it is. Shall I walk you back? Oh, goodness, no. What would people think if they'd seen me and you walking along the beach in my nightgown? Yeah, yeah.

Well, gee, I... Well, pardon me, dearest. I must have been snambulizing. Yeah, yeah. What? I was just thinking of something lovable. Do you love me? Huh? I said, do you love me? Implicitly, dearest. I love you also.

Good night, little fellow. Good night, 400 pounds of sweetener. 402. Oh, wonderful. Congratulations. It's my new diet. Good night. Good night, dear. I still wish I knew what happened. It was a pleasure, Dumpling.

Sir? Listen, dear, before you go, just one question. If I was a full-size fellow like, would you marry me? I'd marry you right now, sugar, the size you are.

I love you, sweet-a-bo. No, no, no. If I was like seven foot high... Oh, boy. Kiss Mama goodnight. Good night, honey. Goodnight, baby. Oh, boy, what a girl. Oh, boy, what a girl. Oh, boy, what a girl. Oh, now listen. Maybe that was an accident. Maybe Jennifer was walking in her sleep.

But if she was, she sure arrived with a bang. Could it be? You suppose it could be? Why, golly, if it was, sure. Cleo, that's just a gimmick in my pocket. Okay, Cleo. Let's see how magic you are. Wait a minute. I'd better get out of here in the open where I won't bump anything if it works. Okay. Now, I wish I was three times as big as... Hey.

Hey, look at me. I'm seven. Hey, my clothes. I exploded right out of them.

Hey, who's that? It's me, darling. Who? Jennifer. What are you doing running around this time of night? I've been sonambulating. You have? I was asleep. And all of a sudden, boom, I'm sitting on the beach alongside the Major. In my nightgown, yes. What are you talking about? I'm telling you the truth, darling. I never walked in my sleep before, neither. Oh, my God.

Did that idiot waste one wish? Sir? You wasn't walking in your sleep, Jennifer. I never did before. You didn't this time, neither. I didn't? How did I get out there, then? He wished you that. Sir?

I mean, are you crazy? No. That's what happened, Jennifer. I'm crazy? It's magic, sweetheart. What kind of magic, darling? Little thing I gave the maid. Yes? Genuine Egyptian scare-rat. Handed down from father to son since the times of the pharaohs. Used to be queer faithful. Yes? Yep. Get three wishes with it, see? He wished you was there. You was there. How do you like that? Uh-huh.

That's what he was talking about, asking me if I'd marry him if he was full-size. That's what I give it to him for. To witch himself up, see? You better go in. I'm going. And I'm going to get dressed. And I'm going to go find the major and watch him witch. I hope it'll work. Gee, I better hurry up. Hey, darling. Is she gone? She went down the hall to her room.

What's the matter with your voice? I'm freezing to death. Well, come on inside. Why, I can't, unless you're sure she's gone. Why? Why, I exploded right out of my clothes. You what? All right, come on, she's gone. Well, I'll see. Don't. What? Well, I just said I wish I was three times as big. Don't say it. Huh? It didn't work that time.

Why didn't it work? Well, how could it? I ain't got it. Huh? Well, I told you I busted out of my clothes, didn't I? Heck, they're in a million pieces down there on the beach, and there's the gimmicks with them. Lend me a bathrobe, will you? Oh, goodness, where is he? Where can he be? So dark. Oh, Major. Major? Yeah, he was right here by this palm tree one day.

Oh, there's so many palm trees. Oh, goodness, I did catch cold. Bajor! Where in the world? No, it couldn't be here. Ouch! I keep sinking down into the sand so far. Bajor, where are you? Heavens, here's where we were. I can tell. I remember this palm tree.

Oh, oh, I fell in a hole. Oh, oh, that's where I landed before. Now, where is he? Major, Major, where are you, little fella? What are all these rags here? My gracious, you suppose some fish could have had him? Oh, and left all this clothes here in rags. Oh, heavens. Oh, my goodness, what's this now? Like an iron beetle. Oh, my goodness.

He dropped the genuine Egyptian scay-rab that was handed down from all the pharaohs and Cleopatra and stuff. Oh, golly, he didn't get to wish. Oh, heavens, I can't bend over to see these rags. Oh, no, he'd be wearing his suit. He went back to the boarding house to wish, and he forgot his wisher.

Oh, my gracious. I know what I'll do. Oh, goody, goody, goody. I'll make his wish for him. Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy. Will he be surprised? Oh, my darling little fella. Now you're going to be a big man. Oh, I wish he was four times as big as he is. What happened, darling? My gosh. They expanded me. My goodness. What happened?

Hey, pull your feet out of the window and let's see what... Good golly, boy. Look. I busted the window. What? It's a wonder you didn't bust down the whole house. Yeah, yeah. My gracious, I never seen such a big man in all my days. Well, all of a sudden, I drove. Oh, Jiminy Cricket. Look at me. How did you...

I didn't do a darn thing. I was just in and here in Cabundo. I'm here in the room in side boat. I hope nobody heard it. We'll have the cops. You and your magic. I could bust your nose. Hey, hey, don't, don't hit me, Major. Don't hit me. You're squashing me. Well, uh... Major, listen. Don't call me Major anymore. I got promoted. Huh? Listen, unfix this, darling. I can't unfix it, Major. Uh, Colonel? General. General.

Why can't you? I had all my three wishes. Besides, I ain't got the gimmick. Well, somebody must have it. Huh? Somebody wished me this. I told Jennifer about the gimmick. She said she was going to go out and find you again and what you wished. Well, then she must have found it and what?

That must be it. Well, all we gotta do is find her and have her wish me back to where I was. Sure, let's go look for her. Good grief, darling, I can't get out of the room. I'm pretty near 30 feet high. I see what you mean. Go get her quick, will you? I'm all cramped in. This is worse than being a man.

Well, move your hand, then. I can't open the door. Stop it, stop it. Who's that? Is that you, darling? Is the Major there? Well, part of me is.

Oh, my goodness. That's your doll? I can't wiggle. Oh, he's been enlarged. Oh, darling, what's happened to you? Nothing's happened to me, Jennifer. No, I mean my darling. What's darling been doing to you, darling? Listen, popcorn ball. Did you find a little thing like a beetle out there on the beach? If that's where you've been. Yes, I was. Did you? I'm getting confused. What's that thing in your hand? Oh, the iron beetle. It's the wishing thing. Yeah. Well, listen, honey bun.

Did you make any wishes? Well, I only wished you to be four times as big as you was, dearable. Yes, but I was already three times as big as I was. You're confusing me again. Well, listen, honey, I wish myself first.

And then you wish me. Give me the thing. I got one more wish to get back to normal. You got two? No, I wished you out there on the beach with me, see? Oh. Give me the gimmick, darling. I'm all cramped up. Oh, goodness, yes, sweetheart, you take it. And wish quick, will you? I don't like you very well this way. You holler so. Just lay it in his hand, Jennifer. Yes, goodness, here. Oh, boy, oh, boy. Oh, boy.

Stand back, everybody. I wish I was back to normal size again. Oh, look. You're a midget again. Oh, Major. Now look what we've done. You, darling, what kind of dirty magic is this? My gracious, I don't know, Major. Only I think you ought not to have said normal size.

This is your normal size. Oh, boy, I am a dead pigeon. Oh, no, no, no, darling. Back where I started. Gee, Jennifer, I'm sorry. I love you, Major. Yeah, but you don't want to marry a midget. Oh, Major, it's so confusing. You and your magic, darling. I told you to be careful of the three wishes, Major. I told you. You remember that. Here, Jennifer. Take this darn thing and throw it away. Oh, golly gosh, Bill.

I wish I was a midget, too. Oh, Jennifer. Oh, Major, where are you? You're all tangled up in your dress, sweetheart. Oh, yes. Wait, I'll help you. There, there. Oh, Major, at last, we're both... Isn't it wonderful? Do you think so, Jennifer? Oh, I love it, dear Sable.

Oh, you look wonderful to me. Oh, but, sweet potato, you're a midget. Oh, I know it. Well, if you don't like it or something, Jennifer, you still got one wish left, you know. Oh, great. I have, haven't I? Oh, Jennifer, you're not... You're not... Give me the gimmick. Oh, Jennifer. I wish we were married right this minute. Where are the people that wanted to get married? Huh?

Who are you, mister? Why, I'm the justice of the peace. And by a strange coincidence, I happen to have a marriage license in my pocket. Now, where are these people, if you please? We're down here, mister. Look, we can do something you can't do. We can walk under a table.

You have listened to Quiet, Please, which is written and directed by Willis Cooper. The major was Ernest Chappell. Dan Betty Gard played Jennifer, Lon Clark was Darling, and the justice of the piece was Pat O'Malley. Music for Quiet, Please is composed and played by Albert Berman. Albert April is our sound technician.

Now, for a word about next week's Quiet Please, here is our writer-director, Willis Cooper. It would certainly be a great surprise to all of us, including myself, if we didn't have a Christmas story for next week. This one has a somewhat unusual setting. It's Berlin, 1945. And so, until next week at this time, I am quietly yours, Ernest Chappell. Quiet Please came to you from New York. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.

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Treat your taste buds to a world of new flavors this holiday season at Twin Arrows. Savor themed night cuisine Fridays through Sundays in the Grand Falls Buffet. Enjoy Asian, Italian, Mexican, Hawaiian, Navajo, Mexican,

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seafood, and many more. Themed menus each night accompanied with fun giveaways and entertainment from 4 until 9 p.m. Fridays through Sundays at the Grand Falls Buffet at Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort. ♪♪♪

Now, Dick Powell as Richard Diamond, private detective. Hello there. This is Diamond. You know, I'm sure a lot of you people have never seen this big city of New York that I live in. But you ought to. It's really worth seeing. I don't mean a four-bit tour in a bus. I mean that one time that you stop along the way and really take a good look.

Maybe it's from a building 40 floors up. You brace yourself against the stiff morning breeze and you lean out and watch the biggest city in the world wake up, stretch, roll up its progressive sleeves and go to work. Or maybe it's 6 o'clock in the evening and you're on your way home. You hold up at a busy intersection and you feel the Colossus even before you see it. You look behind, to the right, the left, and then up. And there it is.

You can only take in three blocks, maybe, but the pushing crowds and towering buildings are a common denominator for the Bronx, Park Avenue, and Flatbush. The rest you have to imagine because your dinner's waiting. Well, I'm lucky in a way. My dinner's ready when I start throwing nickels in the automat. My meals and my time are freelance, and my work is a ringside ticket to the biggest city in the world. Sure, it's lonely sometimes, and trouble walks the streets on a 24-hour beat, but that's how I pay my rent.

Trouble's my silent partner, and he sends me everything from divorce labels to some marked City Morgue, DOA, dead on arrival. One night last week, old man Trouble was sitting curled up on a doorstep watching two thugs hiding in the shadows of a building. Trouble had a big smile because he was cooking up a king-size mess for yours truly. And Lou. Yeah? Ain't he ever gonna come out? He'll come out. We just gotta wait, that's all.

Hey, Lou. Yeah, what is it? I hope he comes out soon. That cop car is due in a little while. Yeah. They're supposing they drive up the street just when he comes out. Then we don't use the artillery. We don't? We follow him and get him someplace else. Okay, okay. Hey, Lou. What? Here he comes. Yeah. You ready? Yeah, sure. Look, he's got his two big watchdogs with him. Get set, go.

Now. We'd better get going. Don't run, stupid. You'd think we was being clocked. Hey, Lou. There's that lousy cop car. Come on. Where are you going? In this club. Come on, hurry. Come on.

Hey, Lou, supposing the cops come down here? Shut up. Table, gentlemen? Yeah, for my friend and me. Right this way. Lou, are you crazy? We can't sit down at no table. They'll have the whole neighborhood covered in a few minutes. We can sit for a second, then we'll go out the back door. Here you are, gentlemen. Is this all right? Oh, just standing. Yeah, this is just fine, thank you. Very good, sir. I'll send a waiter right over. Oh, now, come on, Lou. Let's blow this joint. Wait till he gets further away. Please, Lou. Okay.

Now you go first. Take your time, O'Folly. Pictures, sir? Huh? No, miss. We don't want no photographs. Yeah, we don't want none. Thanks. Just the same. Oh, that's okay. Pictures? Like a souvenir picture to take home? Well, come on. Right behind you. Now, hold it right there. No, no, no. Don't move. Thank you. That will redevelop shortly. Hey, Mel. Hold it a minute. Yeah, what is it? That dame. This is no time to start looking at dames. No, you fathead. The one with the camera. So she's got good-looking legs, but we got...

Uh-oh. What's the matter? There's a cop in the door. Get going, but take your time. I'll tell you about the dame later. Oh, Lynn.

Yeah? What is it, Monsieur Davis? Where are you going? Back to the darkroom to develop these pictures. You always said not to keep the customers waiting, didn't you, Monsieur Davis? I'm glad to see you listen to your employer. I'll just come along to see how this batch turns out. This batch isn't any different from the last hundred batches. We'll just go along and see. Oh, that does it. I beg your pardon? I said that does it.

You cornered me in that dark room once, and it was all I could do to keep you away from me. Lynn. If you think that just because you run this place, you've got a right to make passes at me, you better get yourself a new girl. Maybe that isn't such a bad idea. Come to think of it, I kind of go for it myself. And as long as I'm quitting, here's something you've been asking for for a long time. Hey, what do you think you're doing? Now get out of my way.

That phony French accent may fool the customers, but it doesn't fool me. You get out of here. Pick up your check and get out of here this minute, you, you little... Now, what were you going to say, Mr. Davis? Get out, get out. Get out.

Diamond Detective Agency, if you've lost a body, let us dig it up. Oh, Rick, that's awful. Depends on who we dig up and how long he's been there. Rick. Hello, Helen, baby. You're simply gruesome. I know it, but my tongue matches my shirts. What do you do when you wear stripes? I tell everybody I've been licking barber poles. Oh. Thought you'd catch me, didn't you? No, I don't think I'll ever catch you. Oh, I think you're the prettiest little old gal in the whole dang breast of the state. Flattery will get you nowhere.

Have we got a date tonight? Only if the elevator is still running. Mr. Diamond? Hmm? Oh, I'll call you back later, honey. I think I just sighted the client. Mr. Diamond, please, I've got to talk to you. Well, honey, go back and shut the door. If too much smoke gets out of here, the ceiling will cave in. What? Oh, yes. All right. Rick, did I hear a girl's voice? I think so. But maybe she just wears those clothes because her mother never had a haircut. What does she look like? I don't know.

I can't tell you right now I'm parked behind a curb. Rick! The door is closed, Mr. Diamond. Now may I speak with you, please? Helen, I'll call you later. I don't care if she is a prospective client. You'll face the window when you're talking business. Well, there's a cigarette ad out there. Why look out at an ad when the slogan's right here in my office? Slogan? Yeah, you know. So round, so firm, so... Rick. Bye, baby.

Now, you were saying? I want to hire you to protect me, Mr. Diamond. I know an easier way. Wear a diving suit. Mr. Diamond, put your eyes back in your head. And please listen to me. My life is in danger. There's an answer for that, too. But go on. Tell me the story. My name is Knight. Miss? Yes.

Yes. In the last two days, there have been several attempts on my life. By whom? Well, I don't know. Wow. Do you know why anyone would want to kill you? No. No, I don't. Well, now we're getting someplace. Don't be funny, Mr. Diamond. I tell you that twice an attempt has been made on my life. How? Well, the first time a man followed me home and tried to break into my apartment. I screamed and then frightened him off. Maybe he was lonesome. What about the other time? Well, I don't know whether it was the same man or not, but...

The next night, a man jumped out of a car and tried to make me go with him. I kicked him and ran down the block. Sounds more like a kidnapping than an attempted homicide. Why didn't you tell this to the police? Oh, I did. They investigated, but I couldn't give them enough to go on, so they just put a man watching my apartment. I bet he has to stand in line. Didn't they give you an escort? No. They seemed to think I was after some kind of...

publicity or something. He told me it was all right to go out in the daytime, but to stay in my apartment for the next couple of nights. Sounds reasonable. Will you help me, Mr. Diamond? I'm afraid this will happen again. My dear, my fee is a hundred a day in expenses. A hundred a day? Oh, Mr. Diamond, I don't have that kind of money. Well, neither do I, but if I starve, I do it with dignity. I can't lower my fee, Miss Knight. I never have. Hmm.

Well, then, I just will have to find another detective agency. There are a lot of good ones. I'm sorry, the rule might bend a little, but it won't break. If I took the job knowing you couldn't pay half the fee, ten minutes later, some guy from Texas with an oil-soaked wallet might want to hire me to count his gas stations. Ah, sorry, sorry, but it's a tough world, Miss Knight. Yeah, well, thanks, Mr. Diamond. Maybe you could recommend someone? Oh, any of them are good. Just close your eyes and open the classifieds.

Well, goodbye, Mr. Diamond. I'm sorry. So am I. My conscience just slit its throat. Like you said, Mr. Diamond, it's a tough world. The toughest. Goodbye. Yeah. Oh, nuts. Yeah, what is it? Diamond? He's hiding his head in the desk. I'll get him for you. Come on out, you heel. Look, I don't know who this is, but put Diamond on the pipe. This is Diamond.

Wait till I get the bad taste out of my mouth. Look, you can wet your whistle later. I've always wondered what happened to people who said that. Is there a dame in your office named Knight? Well, there was. She left just before you called. Well, let me give you a little tip. If she hired you, you're going to start feeling overworked right now. So tell her you don't want the job. Oh, I am, huh? Yeah.

or your nearest relative is going to have to come down and identify the body. You know something? Know what? A couple of minutes ago, I proved that a good businessman can start looking like a big fat heel for a lousy hundred a day in expenses. Huh? Don't work on it too long, but stop in sometime, Buster. I'd like to help you spit out your teeth. You better listen to what I say, Chalmers.

You're way out of your class in this one. I'm always out of my class when I talk with slobs. And if you don't like it, look me up. I'll be working for Miss Knight. I went out of my office in a hurry. When somebody tries to push me around, it's like giving a kid a slingshot in a hothouse. You can tell him all night not to do it, but by morning, he's busted every window in the place. I hoped I might catch Miss Knight before she got to the street, so I grabbed the elevator and went down to the first floor. I couldn't find her in the lobby, so I went out on the sidewalk.

The street was crowded, but those curves showed up like a covered wagon on Madison Avenue. She was just starting across Broadway when a big black sedan pulled up and a guy climbed out after her. I took off as fast as my little 175 pounds would carry me and cut kitty corner across the street with an eye on the black sedan. The guy had her by the arm and I knew when she stopped struggling, he'd show her his gun.

I was on a dead run, gonna make like a big hero, but his .38 changed my mind. He missed with the first one, then he shoved the girl away from him and tried again. I could hear the slug whine past my head, so I hit the sidewalk right next to the girl. He jumped for the car. I just lay there and watched him drive off. Did you get the license number? No, it was covered with mud.

Gee, I guess you must look pretty silly just sitting here. Yeah. Got some jacks? I'm a wizard for this. Maybe you believe me now, Mr. Diamond. Yeah. Here, let me give you a hand up. Thanks. Now, come on. Let's get out of here. We're collecting a crowd. Where are we going? I know a policeman who can't understand attempted assault. He says it's not necessary. And believe me, baby, he's got a cure for it. Come on. Come on.

In just a moment, we will return to Richard Diamond, Private Detective, starring Dick Powell. But first, the National Safety Council reports that in almost every motor vehicle accident, there is one or more violations of the law. Speed, drink, and carelessness being the worst offenders. The difficulty is that people continue to think of the horror of accidents as always happening to someone else.

It never occurs to us that we may be killed dashing out to lunch tomorrow. Yes, it can and does happen, for it's the careless little chances each one of us takes every day that cause the big accident totals. Every motorist and pedestrian is urged to support actively the safety movement in his own community. Be careful. The life you save may be your own.

And now, back to Dick Powell and the second act of Richard Diamond, Private Detective. Diamond is hurrying with his pretty client to see Lieutenant Levinson, Head of Homicide. I hailed cab, and ten minutes later, Len Knight and I were walking into the 5th Precinct Police Station. Sergeant Otis looked up and started to say something, but when he saw what I was with, he changed it to a low whistle.

Oh, stop puckering, Otis. You look like you've been unstopping sinks. Oh, very funny, wise guy. How about an introduction? Miss Knight, Sergeant Otis. Homicide's answer to mercy killings. Hello, Sergeant. Don't pay no attention to him, Miss Knight. He was born with a nasty disposition. Is the lieutenant in, Sergeant? Yeah, go ahead. He'll see you.

Nice meeting you, Miss Knight. Nice meeting you, Sergeant. Horace. Yeah? Stop clucking. You'll have every rooster in town in here. Hello, Walt. Who's that with you? This is Miss Knight. Is she dead? Walt.

Say something nice to the lieutenant, dear. After that last remark? Oh, look, Miss Knight, I'm sorry, but this guy you're with has a talent for finding homicides. I'm suspicious of everyone I see him with. Because even if they walk into my office with him, he'd do it just to confuse me. Well, I'm quite alive, Lieutenant. Then let me give you a friendly tip, Miss Knight. Stay away from this guy. His sense of humor will turn your hair white. Oh, isn't he a dream? Walt, Miss Knight wants protection. Yeah, I see what you mean. Walt...

Now, stop gnawing on the desk and listen to me. Miss Knight is in line for a murder or for kidnapping. I knew it. She wants protection, and you're going to give it to her. That's not my department. This is homicide, isn't it? Of course it is. But you know very well we don't go to work until you're dead. Well, honey, I guess you'll just have to route it and get yourself killed. That's the only way. Now, you stop that. Send her to another department. They'll give her all the protection she needs. She's been there. They stuck a guy out in front of her apartment. Now, look.

I just saw Hood try to muscle her into a car. He took a shot at me, and you know bullets give me that letdown feeling. Now put one of your boys with her until I can do something about clearing this thing up.

What's your full name, Miss Knight? Lynette. Lynn, for short. Where do you live and where do you work? I live at 419 West 48th Street, apartment 309. I quit my job three days ago. Where was this job? The circus club on 52nd Street. I took pictures. Took pictures? Yeah, you know. Souvenirs of the customers. Oh. Why'd you quit? Well, my boss got grabby. I slapped him around. Hey, uh, wait a minute. Wait a minute, honey. Did...

Did you say Circus Club, 52nd Street? Yeah. What about it? Walt, didn't somebody gun down Al Rigoletta and two of his boys right near there? Say, you're right. Three nights ago. You didn't see that shooting, did you, Miss Knife? Well, no, but I read about it the next day. Well, if you didn't see it, they couldn't want to get at you just because you were a witness. This is screwy. What have we got to work on? You just put a man to guard her. I'm going to see what I can do. All right, but only because I owe you a favor.

Otis. Yeah, Lieutenant? Get in here. Otis? Yes, Otis. He's not as stupid as he looks. Want to bet? He couldn't be and live. You want me, Lieutenant? Not for keeps. I want you to stay with Miss Knight here until I tell you to come home. Somebody's finally got rough with her. Got it? Yeah. Walt, have you found any eggs around the office? Eggs? Otis, where do you hide your nest?

Oh, Lieutenant, make this guy lay off for me. Yeah, Rick, lay off the poor guy. Otis. Yeah, Lieutenant? Stop standing on one leg and wait outside, you mallet head. Oh, oh, yeah, Lieutenant. Walt, I'll keep in touch. Okay. Mr. Diamond. Yeah? Thanks. I'll make it up to you some way. Don't strain yourself. I like an obligation to be fun. It will be. Rick. Yeah? Bye.

I left the 5th Precinct and headed for the circus club. It was a small place with sawdust on the floor and colored decorations like the inside of a circus tent. The place was still closed, but a short, dapper little guy in a gray business suit answered my knock. Yes, you're from the police?

Why? You need them? I just put in a call. Someone burglarized the place last night. Oh. You know a girl named Knight? Lynn Knight? That's it. I most certainly do. I fired her three nights ago. If she's in some kind of trouble with the police, she deserves it. You must run this place. That's right. My name's Davis. Would

Would you like to take a look at the room that was broken into? I certainly would. What are they still? That's just it. I don't know. They turned it upside down, but I can't imagine what they were after. It's a dark room. A dark room? Yes. I have several girls that take pictures of the customers. They developed the prints in the back of the cafe. Right this way. Ah, forget it. But I thought you wanted... I'm not from the police, Mr. Davis. I'm a private detective.

Uh, Tommy, did Miss Knight turn in all her film the night she quit? I fired her. Difference of opinion. Did she turn in all her film? Why, no. As a matter of fact, she didn't. She left with her camera and several customers got rather angry when the pictures weren't developed. You mean her last role was still in that camera? It must have been. She didn't leave it in the darkroom. I looked. Where's the phone? Right over there. Gunnett Levinson, Homicide. Walt, I think I've got something. Diamond?

I've got something, too. A sour stomach and headache. What's the matter? Otis followed that night dame halfway home when some guy stepped out of an alley and split his head with a sap. He's down an emergency getting his skull crocheted. What about the girl? We don't know. Otis can't remember. Oh, that's dandy. I'll call you back. Now, a minute. I can't. Bye. I had one of those muscle-bound hunches. When I had to work faster, Lynn Knight was going to get herself kicked around and maybe end up in the city morgue. I remembered her address.

And 15 minutes later, I was standing in front of room 309. I could hear the phone ringing from somewhere inside, so I waited to see if anyone answered it. On the third ring, I tried the door. Hello? Hello?

Who is this? Uh, this is Diamond. Oh, thank goodness. This is Lynn Knight. Well, where the devil are you? Lieutenant Levinson said you'd disappeared. I'm in a bar on 50th Street. That man who tried to shove me into his car this afternoon hit Sergeant Otis on the head, and I've been running ever since. How did you know I was here? No, I didn't. I called your office and got no answer, so I just took a chance. Maybe you'd gone looking for me. I was, but I was looking for something else, too. Tell me, baby, have you got a camera? Why, I did have. Did have? What happened to it? Well, I sort of, uh...

Sold it. Oh, you mean you hocked it. I didn't need it anymore, and I didn't... You stay right where you are, and I'll be down. What's the name of the place? Oh, 2320. Please hurry, Mr. Diamond. I'm scared. Okay. I want to ask you something else. Hello? Hello? I thought you'd hung up. No, I thought you... Lynn. Yeah? Is there an extension on this phone? Why, yes, in the bedroom. Say, you don't think... I don't know. Wait a minute. Hello?

Hey, what are you guys... Mr. Diamond? Mr. Diamond, are you still on the... Okay, Mel. Let's go get the dame. Hey, that was pretty smart waiting around and listening in on the extension. What do you want me to do with the showers? He looks like he can still hear things. Well, turn them off. Sure. Okay. Okay, let's go. What are you limping for? I kicked him with the wrong foot. I got a lousy ingrown toenail. I laid there trying to crawl back to a more sensible way of life...

He'd kick me so hard that it shook my eyes loose and they'd run back into my head to hide. Everything was suddenly crammed into a long funnel that disappeared into the floor and I felt pretty sick. I was stuck in an acre of colored molasses. Trying to get myself loose was like pulling a pillow through a garden hose. When I finally made it, I stuck my head under a sink and let the cold water bring me back to normal. Then I headed for the 2320 Club in a hurry.

Something I could do for you? I'm looking for a girl, but I don't see her. They come and go. It's like that around here. She had on a green skirt and a jersey blouse. Couldn't miss her unless you don't like girls. Oh, her. She used the phone and then she left. Alone? No, a couple of ugly-looking guys came in and she left with them. Hey, you know her? Yeah. Well, she forgot her purse. You might tell her. Her purse? Let me see it. Oh, no. Here's the badge, Buster. Oh, okay. He handed me the purse and I went through it.

Nothing much but a pawn ticket. I looked at it and that hunch started biting my leg, so I took off for the pawn shop. Good afternoon. Here's a ticket. I want to claim the article. Sure, sure. A-11249. Here it is.

Ah, lovely camera. Bingo. Did the girl sell it to you? No, she just wants me to claim it for her. Well, be careful. She said there was still some film in it. She wanted to come back and get it when she got a new job. Uh, $15, please. Ah, here you are. Is there a place around here where I can get the film developed? Right across the street. You can see it from here. Ah, thanks. Here it comes. Yep, yep, it's coming up, but we'll leave it in a little longer.

Hey, maybe I'm nosy, but what's so important about this roll of film? I'll tell you better when I look at it. Well, I'll turn on the light. There you are. Yeah. Well, nothing on this one. Nope. Hey, look at this. Some old guy with his wife. Is that what you wanted to find? You see those two guys in the background that look like they're just sneaking out of a chicken house? Yeah, so what? The one in the back is Lou Garzoni. The gangster? Yeah. Give me that negative. Let's get out of here.

You two holding hands in there? Hey, who are you and what's the gun for? Take it easy, Doc. He shoots people. That's right. Now back into the room. All right, but take it easy with that gun. Give me that negative, Shamas. Okay. Now where's the picture? It's still in the juice. Well, get it. I'll get it. That's better. Well, come on, come on. I can't seem to find it. Oh, yeah? Look for yourself. I'll look.

See? Hey, you threw it in his face. That stuff might blind him. So now he can't see to kill you. My eyes. Get me to the doctor, quick. After you tell me where the girl is. 212 West 45th Street. Apartment 513.

Harry, I can't stand it. Call a doctor for this guy and then get a hold of Lieutenant Levinson, 5th Precinct. Why, I... Tell him to meet me in front of 212 West 45th and to step on it. Yes. I'll take those pictures. I can't stand it. I'm... Ah, sure you can. It's no fun looking at the electric chair anyway. Apartment 513, he said. Oh, here it is. Yeah. If Lou Garzoni's in there, we gotta take him by surprise or he'll knock off the girl. Otis is down in the alley, so he won't get out that way. Well...

Here goes. I hope it works. Yeah, who is it? Oh, Mel had an accident. He sent me up to tell you. What's your name? Tony Vega. Wow, why didn't you say so? I thought you was in stir... Coppers! You dirty cops! How about it, Walt? He's on his way. Where's the girl? Probably in the other room.

Yeah, yeah. Take it easy, baby. All right. I'll get the gag on. There you are. Oh, Mr. Diamond. Mr. Diamond, he was going to kill me. Yeah, I know. Is he all right? Sure, Walt. How about Garzoni? No hurry for the wagon. Now, will you please tell me how you knew Lou Garzoni was in this apartment? Well, he and his boy were after a picture Miss Knight took. Yeah, this one.

They are in the background. He was an old enemy of Al Rigoletto, wasn't he, Walt? Yeah. Why? I bet he was the one who rubbed him out. Then he and his boy ducked into the nightclub. Garzoni saw his picture taken, so they went after Lynn. Why, Mr. Diamond. What's the matter? You finally called me Lynn. Well, Lynn. You go home and take it easy. I might stop by tomorrow. What's the matter with tonight? I've got a piano lesson.

Otis! Yeah, Lieutenant? Is it all over? Yes, you hammerhead. Now get out of that garbage can and see if you can find your way back to the station. Oh, Rick, stop it. Okay. Rick? Hmm?

Tell me about the girl in your office. Oh, nice kid. Lovely eyes. I'm jealous. Good for you. I'm mad. You're so busy. You like the new piano? Oh, yes. It's a big one. Must have taken a herd of elephants to make the keyboard. Sing something. What does Rita Baby want? I don't care. Okay. Oh, I don't care. I don't care. Well, that's what you said. You said that yesterday. Something nice.

All right. Everywhere you go, sunshine follows you. Oh, that's such a beautiful tune. Really. Everywhere you go, skies are always blue. Rick. I'm going to finish it.

Children love you, they seem to know. You bring the roses right out of the snow. The whole world says hello everywhere you go. You suppose the guy who wrote that song ever got shot at? Oh, Rick, you idiot. Come here.

This is much more fun than piano lessons. You have just heard Richard Diamond, Private Detective, starring Dick Powell. Helen was played by Virginia Gregg, Lieutenant Levinson by Ed Begley. Also in our cast were Wilms Herbert, Joan Banks, Paul Dubov, Herbert Ellis, and Sidney Miller. Music was under the direction of Frank Wirth.

Richard Diamond is written by Blake Edwards and directed by Richard Sandell. And now, Dick Powell. Friends, I want to remind you of the wonderful group of programs NBC has on tap for tomorrow afternoon and evening. Shows like Hollywood Calling, Guy Lombardo, Four Star Playhouse, The Ethel Merman Show, and the NBC Symphony. For the best in radio listening tomorrow and always, keep your dial tuned to your favorite NBC station.

Dick Powell soon will be seen in the screen version of the best-selling novel, Mrs. Mike. And don't miss the interesting story, My Mr. Powell and His Mr. Diamond, in the September issue of Radio Mirror, now on your newsstand. Now, this is Eddie King, inviting you to be with us again at this same time next week, when we will again bring you Dick Powell as Richard Diamond, Private Detective. ♪♪

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The Adventures of the Saints, starring Vincent Price. The Adventures of the Saints

The Saints, based on characters created by Leslie Charterman, and known to millions from books, magazines, and motion pictures. The Robin Hood of modern crime now comes to radio, starring Hollywood's brilliant and talented actor Vincent Price as... The Saints. The Saints.

Waiter. Yes, monsieur? Waiter, will you tell the chef of this unhappy restaurant that he'd make a better shoemaker? Monsieur, shoemaker? Look at this miserable concoction. It's called a salad. But, monsieur. Don't but me. But, monsieur, I have something to tell you. Yes? Someone is waiting for you at another table. Well, get back to him at once. Warn him against eating anything in this establishment. Tell him his life is in danger. Mr. Tenter, there is something strange about the gentleman. I think he has a gun in his pocket.

Aha. More severe critic of food than I am. Well, tell the chef he'd better flee for his life. Do you wish to see him? The chef? No, he'll have to look out for himself. Not the chef, sir. The little man. Hmm. He is little, isn't he? Yes, sir. But... Desperate air about it. Well, I'll go see him.

How do you do? You wish to see me? Mr. Templer, my name is Potts. How do you do? I need help. I'm the senior partner of Potts and Carter, jewelers extraordinary. Extraordinary. Earlier this evening, Mr. Carter was killed. Oh, too bad. Mr. Templer, it wasn't an accident. Oh? He was murdered. Oh, I see. And the police are picking you for Queen of the Mays.

And you want me to prove you didn't murder Carmen? Oh, no, Mr. Tendler. No? No. I want you to prove I did. No!

It's no use, Mr. Templer. I did kill Carter. Well, why wouldn't the police believe you? Because they couldn't find the corpse. There's usually one around after a murder, you know. Somebody stole this one. Stealing corpses is a rather restricted profession. Where did you kill your partner? In our establishment on Wilshire Boulevard. Oh, that's a nice place for it. When? Earlier this evening. And then you phoned the police from the shop? No, I... I couldn't bear the sight of Carter's body. I walked over to a nearby hotel and made my call from there. And then?

I returned to the shop. I didn't go into the back. Where the shooting had taken place? Yes. I waited for the police. They arrived. I told them what had happened and led them into the back. But when you got there, the cupboard was bare. Yes, Mr. Templer. No one had heard the shot? No. You see, it's a business neighborhood. It was evening. That's understandable. May I ask you a question, Mr. Pyle? Of course. Are you tired of living? Right. Oh, you mean, why am I so anxious to have the police leave me? Yes.

Because I shot Carter in self-defense. He's a larger man than I am. He was threatening me with physical violence. I acted only in self-defense. Oh, I see. Well, I'll drop you at your home and, uh... Mr. Potts, you've got a job. Yes? You've got to find your partner's body. But, I... Now, ask yourself where you'd go if you were...

No. No, he wouldn't be going anywhere himself. You'd better spend some time thinking about your friends. One of them might have removed the corpse in order to shield you. Or think of your enemies. Are you married? Yes, I am. Well, anyway, an enemy of yours might have moved the body to make the killing look like... well, like premeditated murder. One way or another, Mr. Pardes, you've quite a bit to think about, haven't you? THE END

Mr. Templin? Hmm? Well, my living room furniture is drowning, or are you, uh... I'm Carter. Carter? Yes. Of...

Potts and Carter? Potts and Carter. One of us is in a bad way. Either you're dead or I'm crazy. I can assure you I'm not dead. Oh, very well. I'll see a psychiatrist in the morning tonight. I'm sleepy. What did Potts want with you? You've been hurting me, haven't you? I've been following Potts.

What did he want? Oh, nothing really. He merely wanted to assure me that he'd killed you. He'd what? Killed you. Shot you, to amplify an already unbelievable remark. He said that? He must be insane. Well, eccentric, anyway. Mr. Carter, the situation is rather bizarre. A man confesses to a murder. The police do not believe him. He comes to me and asks me to prove him a murderer. I leave him and find myself confronting the man he claims to have murdered. It doesn't make sense.

Perhaps it's not intended to. What do you mean? I suggest you go to the police, identify yourself to them, and ask complete protection for yourself. I don't need any protection. Potts wouldn't harm a fly. Yeah, but you're not a fly. My dear fellow, the possibility of Potts really doing me harm is something I can't take seriously. Why not go to the police anyway? I couldn't without exposing Potts to ridicule and... You have to execute for your partners rather touching...

Especially since he accused you of being a thief, of stealing from the firm, to be precise. He said that? Yes. Then I have something to think about. You have something to fear? Nonsense. No. Now, a man has already confessed to your murder, and you're still alive. His confession may have been moonstruck madness, or it may have been...

Prophecy. Good night, Mr. Conner. Good night.

Well... Hello. Hello. The cars they put out nowadays have rare and wonderful gadgets attached. Pardon me, but I'm trailing a fellow. Who? A man named Carter. Do you know him? Mm-hmm. Do I know you, or should I? What do you think? Carter's cab is well in sight. Just a moment. I'll take my eyes off the cab for a moment and...

Yes, I should. What's your name? Claire. I'm Simon. You know, I only bought this car yesterday. Are you part of the standard equipment? No, I go with the deluxe model, don't I? Well, I'm so glad I paid for the extras. Claire, what? It doesn't matter. Depends on where we're going or what we do when we get there. This is a nice, quiet seat. Hey, hey, wait a minute. That's the ignition key. I know. Look, you've got the key. Well, may I borrow it? No.

Ah, well, now Carter's cab is out of sight. Oh, you're cute. This is as far as we're going. And now, Simon, what are we going to do? THE END

Hey. I beg your pardon. Oh, hello, officer. Now, this may be a residential neighborhood, but... It is? It is. But that doesn't mean you should play house here. Well, we weren't exactly playing house, officer. I was trying to persuade the lady to return my ignition key to me. Is that a fact? Lady, give him back his ignition key. All right, officer.

Here you are, son. Thank you. Now, you take that ignition key and stick it in the lock. That's right. Now you turn it. Oh, you're doing very nicely. Now you push the little button over there. This one? Yeah. Oh, charming. Now you shift the gear into first. You release the handbrake. Now you're a bright boy. The next time you go out with a girl, make sure your ignition key isn't showing.

Now step on the gas and get the heck out of here.

Simon, are you angry with me? For delaying me? Not especially. Where are you taking me? To a jewelry store. Oh, you really shouldn't. You don't know me well enough. Which jewelry store is that? Potts and Carter. You know the place? I sure do. My husband owns half of it. Oh. Potts or Carter? Potts. They must have a nice assortment of stones. What makes you think so?

Potts doesn't bat in your league, baby. Not in his own league. I'm not so sure that's a compliment. Brutal. Huh? Because, um, he was a riot. Hey, there's a light in the back. Are you coming with me? No. Why not? You think your hubby might be there? I'm brooding. All right. Just don't hatch anything.

Who? Who's there? Open the door. Okay, okay. Templer. How right you are, Mr. Carter. What do you want? Let's go inside. I said... I said inside. Well...

Come in. But... I know. You weren't expecting company. The house is a mess. What made you think I'd be here? I wasn't sure, but it was a possibility, so I came. Now that you're here... I'd like to take a look in that back room where the light is. Where the light? And I'd rather suspect a vault. Templer, I don't have the sense of it. No, but I've got a feeling you're going to. Let's get on with it, shall we?

I, uh, I was checking stuff. Let's both check. Wait a minute. You mightn't understand. Give me a chance to, Bert, huh? I don't want her to come in here. Keep walking. All right, all right, but... Well, you idiot, if you think that by putting the lights out you... Cut it! Carter! Simon! Claire, I... I heard the shots. I came out the time and we're... The light switch is near the back door. I got it.

Oh, go ahead now. Simon, your feet. Lying half across the doorway. I've opened. Simon, they're open. Dead.

There's blood leaking out from under him. Let's take a look at the back room. Uh-huh. Yeah, back window leading to an alley. There's no much for that. Now, the vault's open. Father, how can you worry about that when the man's dead? I've seen dead men before. The vault's empty. I don't care. Your husband might. The police certainly would.

Well, I've got to go. Oh, but you can't leave me. You've got a job notifying the police. They wouldn't like it if you didn't. What are you going to do? Where do you live? Bell Tower Drive. What number? 39. All right. Dial operator. Ask the police headquarters. Tell them all. Me, I'm going to visit with a man who confessed to a murder before it was committed.

Curious to see whether he's going to stick to that confession now that the murder is a murder. Yes? I want to see Mr. Potts. Yes?

At this hour? Yes, I'm peculiar. I want to see Mr. Potts at this hour. I'm sorry, but... Save your regrets. Good heavens, sir, you pushed me aside. Tonight you win the badge for alertness. Now shut the door. Yes, sir. Where's Potts? I refuse to... You're not the usual, Butler. You're young, big, and you look as if you've got muscles.

If you let me push you aside as if you were a doddering old man, why? My father was a butler before me, sir. And his father before him. We're accustomed to dealing with gentlemen, sir. You must be quite a comedown talking to me, first of all. He's not at home, sir. You sure? Quite, sir. Mr. looked for him as though he didn't know he was out. But I assure you, sir, that he...

Show me. Show me.

Well, he's not in the house. No, sir. Don't look so smug. Mrs. Potts isn't in the house either. You knew that, sir, before you looked. Tell me, how does she feel about her husband? I beg your pardon. All right, all right. You've given me the proper outraged response. What's your name? Anderson, sir. Anderson, make a speech. Sure. I...

Well, my father was... And his father before him. And I'll bet you they all knew exactly what cooked with a master and mister. So do you. What cooked? Well, Mr. Potts is a very fine man. Mrs. Potts is a very fine woman. And you take the high road and I'll take the low road.

Hey, company's coming. And we'll take the low road. Butler, who am I? I don't know, sir. Good. Then tell the police all about me when they arrive. And they'll be here soon. It'll give them something to think about besides Mrs. Potts and, uh, Anderson? Yes, sir? You think about something besides Mrs. Potts, too. Something like, uh, murder, hmm?

THE END

Good afternoon, sir. Oh. It's only Simon, ma'am. Hello, Simon. Business as usual here at Potts and Carter, hmm? Yes, usual enough, I suppose, with Carter lying in the morgue and my husband... Where? Nobody knows. He's looking for him? Warrant out for him? No, of course not. Then whom have they in mind for Carter's murder? A burglar, it's obvious what happened last night. Someone was burgling the vault. Carter surprised him and then he shot Carter.

The theory with a great many pleasant aspects. It doesn't explain your husband's confession, though. Well, he was overworked. He was tired. He didn't know what he was saying. Please, I'm afraid that maybe... Maybe he's lost his mind or something. Yeah, I like that or something better. The theory doesn't explain your husband's accusations against Carter. Accusations of theft. Simon, I didn't know anything about all this. Then why your act in the car last night? I was worried about my husband, about Carter. And then I...

I've always wanted to meet you. Oh. Why? Well, it's not the kind of thing I can talk about coldly like this. Well, we must discuss it warmly some other time. Right now, what about Anderson, your butler? Anderson? I don't trust him. I know it's not done this year, mistrusting butlers, but I have a feeling he knows more than he should. More than he should about what? Why don't you find out? What? Oh.

Why, could I? By discussing things with him. Wormling. I'm not so sure I'd like that. I'm not making friends today. Just influencing people. I can't imagine what Anderson would or wouldn't know. Stimulate your imagination by going out to the house now and working on him. You really think it's important? Very important. Now run along. Well, all right, but for sure... I'll lock up. You go on. Will I see you later? I'll be at home. Stirring up the sign.

I mean, you don't have to have a furnace, do you? Well, there's the back door. Locked. And now the front door. All right.

Locked. Now... Hey. Yes? Hey, Sal. Yes? That's your heap over there? Uh, yeah. Yes, it is. Better take a cab. I like my heap. Now, don't look now, but some low characters let the air out a couple of your tires. Oh. Well, then suppose we go for a ride in your cab. Uh, 39 Bell Tower Drive. Okay. Okay.

Say, did you happen to notice the happy prankster who deflated my tires? Sure I noticed it. Why not? I'm under 80. Oh. Well, why didn't you stop her? Mister, I'm a married man. That means I'm cautious. For all I know, maybe you're the kind of fellow who likes a girl to deflate his tires for him. It depends on the circumstances, Kathy. Not so early in the morning. Okay. Next time I'll know you don't like a girl to deflate your tires for you in the morning.

You don't think it's fun? No, I think it's murder. 39 Feltower Drive up ahead. Okay. Pull over here. Okay.

Hi, Scott. What, I should wait for you? We'll both wait. For somebody to get to the house? No, for someone to leave it. Hey. Hey, mister. Yeah? There's a guy leaving the house now. Getting into a car. Good. And follow the car. Okay. Not too close, huh? Not too close. There he goes. Well, we go, too.

Hope he ain't going on no long trip. I ain't got too much gas in the tank. He's going on a very long trip, and yet I don't think he's going far. Huh? Space is relative, Cabby. Remember what Hamlet said? Well, I wasn't around at the time. I could be bounded by a nutshell, yet count myself king of infinite space. Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember it now. Were it not that I have bad dreams... Nice guy, Hamlet. I wonder... I wonder, does Anderson have bad dreams?

Getting dark. I don't like these hills when it starts getting dark. They're barren. Yeah, and they're steep. Hey, the guy with the trailer has turned off the road. Drive a driveway. Pull up to it and stop. Okay. The house is beyond the bend, quite near the road.

Cabby? Yeah? I'm leaving you. Look, I want you to drive back to town the instant you hit a place where the phone called the police. Yeah, and tell them what? To warm a cell for a murderer. They can pick the murderer up here. Okay, pal. Uh, but don't do nothing weird. Hmm.

Who are... Oh. Oh, hello, Anderson. Fancy finding me here, hmm? Templer. Mr. Templer, whatever would your grandfather say? What do you want? I'm admiring the country home of the Potts. By the way, where is Mr. Potts? I don't know. Oh, who's that, a big friend? Stay away from that door. Nonsense. It looks like a charming door. Works, too. Hufflepuff.

Mr. Potts, tired and gagged. I told you to stay away from me. I don't accept advice graciously, nor do I care for lawyers. But lantern jaws. But lantern jaws are handy to hit.

Now for you, Mr. Park. Or get the gag out of your mouth. There. You feel better? Oh, don't rush it. Your hands. Nice job. Shh, quiet. Look out behind you. Oh. Oh, hello, Claire. Hello. So glad you dropped in. You are? Yes.

Remember I warned you about your butler? It was he who brought your husband here and tied him up, etc. That's interesting. You should ask me why I suspected him.

All right, I'll tell you. When I visited your house and met Anderson for the first time, we had a little chat, in the course of which he remarked that I knew you weren't in the house before I searched it. That was hard, you know. Why? Because how did he know I'd seen you outside the house unless... Unless what? Let me help you to your feet, Mr. Barney. I can't move. Standing up will help restore the circulation. Unless what, Mr. Templer? Oh, so formal, Mr. Templer. Unless, Claire, you told him. Oh, why?

Why should I have told him that? Obviously, because you and he were in on this little plot together. Plot? To kill Carter and frame your husband for the murder. Thus, you would inherit the business and the butler. Your charming diamond was fantastically wrong.

You're implying Anderson killed Carter? No, no. He'll go to the gas chamber as accessory. To whom? To you. Silly. Carter was shot from the back room. I was out front with you. You were at the front door. That's true. Carter was shot as we heard. He was going into the back room. His back, therefore, was to us. And yet, if you remember, he was shot in the back. After...

Afterwards, we remarked how he lay face upward with the blood coming out from underneath him. You aren't a fool, are you? Oh, dear, dear. I was wondering how long it would be before you produced the pistol. Mr. Potts, can you stand alone? I can't. I'm falling. Then fall in your wife's direction. No!

Mrs. Potts, your gun, if you please. Thank you. That's a good deal better. The police will be here shortly, and that will be that. Oh, relax, Mr. Potts. You've fallen to rise again, but your wife, I'm afraid, has deflated her last tire. Oh!

The End

Now, here you are, Mr. Potts. Good health. Mr. Templer, how could I have killed Carter and not killed him? Simplicity itself, Mr. Potts. Your gun had been carefully loaded with blanks. Carter pretended to be dead. But why should he have done that? Your wife must have persuaded him that by doing that he would escape going to jail for theft. She'd have a hold over you and... Oh, she's not a very nice woman, is she? No. No.

With Carter murdered, she was preparing to have you disappear permanently. It would seem to the police that you killed Carter and fled to the country. I can't thank you. Oh, don't bother. It was fun. But in the future, Mr. Potts, before you confess to murdering anyone, be sure you murder him.

You have been listening to another adventure of the saints, the Robin Hood of modern crime. And now here is our star, Vincent Price. Ladies and gentlemen, freedom is everybody's job. The Bill of Rights established our freedom and protects it. But freedom demands that each of us carry out our duties as a citizen. To vote in an informed way so that the best man is placed in public office

to serve on juries, to take an active interest in public issues. Remember, by making our form of government work better here, we strengthen democracy everywhere. This is Vincent Price inviting you to join us again next week at this same time for another exciting adventure of The Saints. Good night.

The White Script of the Saints is written by Louis Vittes. Our cast included Betty Lou Gersten, Stanley Farrar, Ted Osborne, Larry Dobkin, and Tom Brown. The music was composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. The Saints, based on characters created by Leslie Chakravitz, is a James L. Saffier production and is directed by Thomas A. McAvity. Vincent Price is soon to be seen in Robert Lippert's production of The Baron of Arizona. Our cast is written by Louis Vittes.

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Office of Samuel Spade, private investments. I mean investigations. Good morning. Uh, evening. Effie? Miss Perrine is on a vacation. Perhaps I may be of assistance, no doubt. I don't know. To whom am I speaking to? I am sorry. I cannot devolve that information to an entire stranger.

May I take a message? Look, Miss, whoever you are, I don't want to discobolge you, but... I am sorry, but I will have to ask you in no certain terms to resist from this line you are handing me. I am not the tribe secretary. Forget it. I'll just call Miss Perrine long distance and dictate my report over the phone. Oh, my stars and god, how utterly gouch of me, Mr. Spade.

Oh, I'm Bernadine, Effie's relief. I mean, yours. I could use some. Oh, shall I send out for some medicine? Yeah. The phone number's on the wall behind the water cooler. Tell them the hundred-proof bonded and hang the expense. I'll be right down to dictate my report on the failed bond caper. The End

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Oh, Mr. Spade. You are Mr. Spade. You just gotta be. Yes, but why? It was faith. I knew it was gonna be like this. I have my qualms too, Bernadine. Oh, that's good. I sent the other back. The other what? I called that number, but it was Euphonious. They sent whiskey. Is something the matter?

Uh, no. No, nothing at all. I'm perfectly qualm. Well, I'm glad. My previous employer was very nervous, which is why I just happened to be tentatively at large when Effie reproached me about being a relief to her. Figures. Uh, Bernadine, now I'm not being fresh. Honestly, I'm not. But do you take shorthand? Yeah, but I don't speak it. What is that you speak? Don't answer. Uh, ready? Rodney. I mean, Roger. Uh, uh, date.

I'll have to ask my mother. Down, Bernadine. Uh, date June 27, 1948 to Miss Effie Perrine, care of Perry's Lodge, Kanab, the Pearl of the West, Utah. What? Oh, uh, wrong letter. I'll get to that later. Uh, date June 27, 1948...

To Leo M. Scarlett, care of Leaf Branch, Root, Knox and Wood, attorneys at law, 333 Pine Street, San Francisco, from Samuel Spade, license number 1-375-96. Subject, the bail bond caper. Dear Leo, I'm sorry things turned out the way they did, Leo, and I'd like you to know how I got into it. It wasn't for the reward. I don't take rewards. I'm not in love with your wife, no matter what she says, and I wasn't sore at you about anything.

I was just sitting in my office minding my own business when the door opened and Vivian walked in. She looked every bit as beautiful as she did when she lived under me in Ma Tuttle's boarding house in 41. In fact, I didn't recognize her until she slithered out of her mink. Hello, Sam. Surprised to see me? Uh, yeah, but I'm trying not to show it. What's on your mind? Is that all you've got to say to me, Sam? Well, you're here on business, aren't you?

All right, I don't blame you. It all happened pretty sudden, Leo and me. I should have written her a phone, Joe, I suppose, but somehow... Forget it, Vivian. Now, what do you need a detective for? You thinking of divorce already? Oh, please don't, Sam. If it was a mistake, I'm the one who has to live with it. And I made up my mind when I married Leo, this time it's for Keith. No matter what. Mm-hmm. What's the what? He's in trouble, Sam. Well, that's nothing new. Well, this time I don't think it's his fault. When Leo went legit, he meant it.

What's he say he's doing now? He's a bail bond broker. Judging from your new look, I'd say he's a success. Sam, a man called him on the phone today. I answered. He said his name was Holiday, but I recognized his voice. It was an old friend of Leo's, Charlie Rosenfoy. Charlie, huh? When did he get out? A couple weeks back. He was paroled.

I don't know what he said over the phone, but Leo looked scared and sick. I don't wonder. The word around town was that Charlie took the rap from Leo. And I don't know anything about that. All I know is Leo's on the level now, and Charlie never will be. He did plenty on his own during that time, he said. Well, I won't argue that, but from where I sit, it looks like Leo better start wearing a gun again. He has. That's what I'm so frantic about, Sam. Did you hear any of the conversation from Leo, Sam? He didn't say much.

But I did hear him say, all right, 10 tonight, I'll meet you there. I wasn't very smart of him. I know, but that's the way he is. It might be only for a payoff. I thought of that, too. But Leo hasn't got that kind of money. He's been dropping a lot at the racetracks lately. And even if he had it, he's not the type to pay blackmail. I don't like it. Why should I stick my neck out? Why did you have to come to me anyway? Because I trust you, Sam. I know you were jealous of Leo. I was?

Sam, if we ever met anything... If you meant half the things you said to me when we... Stop it. That's blackmail. Oh, I feel so lost and alone. I don't know where to turn. Okay, okay. I'll see what I can do. Oh, Sam. I'll make it up to you somehow.

You see if I don't. Sure you will. And tell Leo to stop dropping his money at Tan Foran. This is going to cost them plenty. Vivian had said that your rendezvous with Charlie was scheduled for 10 in the p.m. and that you were too upset to go to work that day so you'd be at home, 1246 Dunbar.

I took a plan in your apartment building from a sleepy lagoon-type cocktail bar across the street called, you guessed it, the Sweet Leilani. Your wife joined me, and after a while, we got around to talking. At least she did. I bet you can't guess what I'm thinking about. Huh? Listen, Sam, you remember that night we drove to Half Moon? Half Moon. Bay. Oh, you do remember.

Oh, we used to do the craziest things. I should have married you, Sam. Please, not while I'm drinking. You know what? The trouble with crooks, they have to work day and night. Yeah. Hey, you're not listening. No, but everybody else in the place is. Let's talk about you, Sam. Let me tell you how I met Leo. No, and please don't. And then he opened a bucket shop.

You know what a bucket shop is? Yeah. It's stockbrokerage. Brokerage. Yeah, that's right. Only it's crooked. That was the first business Leo started when he went legit. Mm-hmm. He had to shut it down on account of those securities. Somebody was always stealing out of the safe. Were they insured? Yeah, but they wouldn't renew his policy. So after the second nightclub burned down and he couldn't get any insurance at all, even on his own life. That's why I'm so frantic, Sam. Oh.

Hey, give me a nickel. I want to play Sweet Leilani. Fifty nickels and two hours later, Sweet Leilani broke under the strain, so we had Princess Papuli to leave a nut cave out, and we were starting on the Hawaiian war chant when she disappeared through a door marked Wahine's. Hawaiian for powder room, and never came back.

Around 9.45, I mumbled something to the bartender about the lady who will pay, put on my smoke glasses and strolled out and across the street. You came out of the building a couple of minutes later. You led me a zigzag course up Merchant Street to Salon, across Salon to Commercial, down Commercial to Drum, and made a lateral pass over Drum back to Dunbar. Your destination, I'd never have guessed it, was the Sweet Leilani. Happily, they were not playing Sweet Leilani. It was very, very quiet.

The regular customers had taken a powder, and I didn't blame them. In the new crop at the bar, I counted ten broken noses, at least five broken paroles, assorted knife scars, and four pairs of cauliflower ears and one maverick. You slid into a booth at the end of the bar, took the gun out of your shoulder holster, and laid it down on the table in front of you. I walked over, turned it around so it was pointing at the jukebox instead of me, and sat down.

Some other time, Spade. Some other time I drink with you. I'm waiting for a friend. Why the gun? You selling it to him? Maybe I give it to him. Go on, you drink at the bar. Ah, it's kind of crowded. Looks like Charlie Rosenfoy's old mob. Who are they gunning for? You or Charlie? Why don't you ask them? What are you drinking, Leo? I was with that bottle all day. Got a bad taste.

Do me a favor, Spade. There's a bar two doors down the street. Go drink there. There's my friend coming in the door. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Leo. Look, Spade. Hello, Leo. What's the matter? You bring a bodyguard to meet your old friend, Charlie? This shaman threw his weight in here.

I didn't ask him. I don't need him. Huh. That sounds like the old Leo Scarlatti I used to know. The name is Scarlet. Oh, pardon me. I've been on the rock for so long, it's hard to catch up on all the changes. There's been a war, Charlie. Anyone teach you to it yet? You got a smart bodyguard, Leo. Let's talk. Let's go somewhere else and talk. I like it here. Okay, we start.

How come you tipped the mob we were coming here? You promised you wouldn't. Like the shamans, they got a drink somewhere. All right, say what's in your mind and I'll go. Yeah, and if you don't mind, I think I'll do my drinking at the bar. Both of your guns were on the table. It didn't look as though you were going to use them on one another, and I figured that neither of you was going to do much talking in front of me anyway, so I scrolled back to the end of the bar to look at the television.

The 10 o'clock news roundup was on and the ticker tape that was moving across the screen said dot, dot, dot in Atlantic City today, period. I ordered a highball and then the ticker tape started again. This time it said San Francisco, million dollar bail bond robbery. One million dollars in negotiable bonds is tonight in the hands of a group of daring holdup men who commandeered an armored truck at the very portals of the police department in the Hall of Justice.

And it's said this concludes the 10 o'clock edition of the television news roundup. I had a slight hunch that if the television boys had had their cameras on the big bail bond robbery, that at least some of the characters would have been played by at least some of the bad actors that were foregathered in the sweet Leilani. In fact, what you and Charlie were saying and doing when I walked back to your booth was almost too much to the point.

You let me see the bulky portfolio Charlie shoved across the table at you. It looked like a carrying case for bonds. Bank message type. But it was sealed with wax blobs bearing the imprint of the great seal of the state of California. I was impressed. Where'd you get this? You can read about it in the papers. And if I was you, I'd get this out of sight before them papers hit the street. One thing more. Don't try to clip none of them coupons.

And one thing more in addition, don't open it at all. Sure. Babe? Yeah, Leon? I think I hire you after all. I took the job and you handed me the portfolio. Outside, we flagged the taxi and you gave the driver an address on Portsmouth Square.

Your office, I hate to remind you, was behind one of a bunch of neon-lighted storefronts across from the Hall of Justice. The sign on the door said, press the button and let freedom ring any hour, day or night. The only bell in sight was a stop-press-type burglar alarm. You unlocked the door and we went in.

He paused in front of a big green safe with a combination lock and started twirling the knob. The tumblers clicked into place. I picked up an inkwell and waited for the safe to open. All right, Spade, give me it. I did, with both hands. With my left, I handed you the portfolio, and with my right, I pitched the inkwell at a well-wired slab of plate glass window. Oh!

When the burglar alarm went into action, so did you. You dropped everything and were out of the door and out of sight before you could say, let freedom ring. While I was waiting for the cops to arrive, I helped myself to a $500 bearer bond I found lying loose in your safe. I had a feeling I might be needing some bail myself. ♪♪

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I had hoped, Leo, when I made my spectacular move in your bail bond office and set the bells to ringing, that I'd get the caper off my neck and onto the capable shoulders of the police, where it now belonged. Then I told myself I could go home and get some sleep. I had never been that fond of Vivian anyway.

I was holding the million-dollar portfolio, complete with its big official seal still unbroken, ready to hand it over with a flourish to the first boy in blue that rushed in. But then I saw something that dashed my hopes. There was a strip of scotch tape across the bottom of it. It wasn't up to me to tamper with important evidence, but I didn't have to. It was only a question of what magazine had been cut up to replace the million dollars in bearer bonds. That question was answered at headquarters 20 minutes later.

It turned out to be the last 52 issues of Radio Life, which even Captain Walsh of the robbery detail admitted was no help. Neither was Captain Walsh. Now, Spade, in your statement here, you state, uh, so-and-so-and-so-and-so-and-so-and-so, uh, sweet Leilani...

And that Rosenfoy didn't hand portfolio exhibit in question to Leo M. Scarlett, alias Scarlatti, at approximately 10.20 p.m. this day. That's it, Captain. Now, uh, you sure you want to stick with this?

You don't want to change any part of the statement? No, I just want to go home and go to bed. I'm afraid you're going to stay with us for a while. Who, me? Um, statement of Jordan Joyce, M.D., statements of Hilda Sackrider, R.N.N., Mildred DeVildis, R.N., day and night, nicest respectfully. Who's sick?

Rosenfoy. He's been quarantined in his home in Daly City since his release from Alcatraz four days ago. Chicken pox. Sorry, Sam, I'll have to book you. You sure you don't want to add anything to that statement? Only this.

Kelsey Walsh, if you continue to do such brilliant police work, you will be waving a stop sign at a school crossing in time for the fall semester. You are a hangnail on the finger of justice. I thought I had been courteous and cooperative, but even so, it was the middle of the afternoon by the time they set my bail. Fifteen hundred bucks. That made it light.

But I hadn't had time to hang the curtains in my cell when I got even worse news. My bail had been posted by who? Vivian, a banana peel in the steps of progress. She met me outside.

Well, aren't you going to thank me? What for? Getting me in jail or getting me out? Getting you out, of course. It was all the money I had in all the world. Leo's money was impounded, you know. But, Sam, when I thought of what you and I once meant to each other, maybe we still... Yeah, yeah. Well, you'll get your money back. I'm not really guilty. Oh, I know that. What else do you know? I guess it's safe to talk. Leo phoned me today. Where is he? He wouldn't say. Some pay station. He kept putting in nickels.

Sam, you've got to talk to him. You've got to convince him it's best to give himself up. Now you're beginning to make sense, sweetheart. But how can I get to talk to him? I've arranged it.

He's to meet us at the Club Leilani. You know, where we had our reunion yesterday. That place on Dunbar? Yeah. Oh, that's great. A crowded saloon less than a block from the police department. Besides, the place has lousy memories for me. By the way, did you ever get out of the ladies' room? If you don't mind, I'd rather talk about something else. Okay, let's talk about how do we bring this big secret meeting off in a crowded cafe. Is Leo coming in a false beard? You really think I'm stupid, don't you? I didn't say so.

Well, it so happens that the place is closed on Tuesdays. See that sign in the window? Closed Tuesday. Mm-hmm. Now, how do we break in? I was counting on you. You're a detective. Can't you use a glass key or something?

Did you say that bail bonds you bought for me was all the money you had in the world? That's the truth. Then get ready to forfeit it. It's a risk I've got to take. You've got to take. Sam, please, if we ever met any... Yeah, I know, half-moon day. But sometimes I wish we hadn't been childhood sweethearts. Wait here, I'll case the alley. THE END

The alley wasn't much better. There were two windows, washroom type, all glass brick except for two small ventilators big enough to put your hand through. The only hope was the kitchen skylight. I didn't have any trouble getting up to it, but once I was there, things didn't look so good.

The view from the roof was a garage door with two green lights flanking it. Then it struck me where I was and why I was there. The Club Leilani backed directly on the Hall of Justice where the big bail bond robbery had taken place at 5 p.m. the night before. Without further ado, I put my foot through a pane of the skylight, reached in, unlatched it, and dropped it.

Hurry up, let me in, Sam. Up at the front of the building, I could hear Vivian clamoring for admittance. I decided to let her clamor for another minute or two.

It isn't a thing I often do, but I walked resolutely into the ladies' powder room. It was very well equipped. It had furniture, a telephone, and more clues than I needed. The magazines were there, the razor blades were there, the scotch tape was there. There was even a scraping of red sealing wax on the steel frame of the window slot. But best of all is what I found in the paper towel dispensers.

I lifted it out and moved it next door to the men's washroom. Then I let her in. What kept you so long? You'll spoil everything. I was afraid you'd... Here comes your husband. Come on, let me in. What happened, Leo? You're early. Any objections? I just got itchy, that's all.

How are you, baby? Don't, Leo. I'm so nervous. What are we going to do, baby? What's Spade going to do for us? Tell him, Sam. I'll leave you two alone to talk it out. Freshen up a little. I haven't had my face on all day. Poor kid. Well, Spade, let's have it. Yeah, she's right, Leo. I can do a lot for you. But you've got to do something for me. Spade, this is level. I never saw those bonds. I know that. Then what are you after? The truth.

It's the only thing that can save you. And if you take this rap, I take it, too. I'm in clear up to my neck. Okay. Charlie Rosenfoy came around to Vivian and made her this proposition. He was going to pull this bail bond job and plant the goods on me.

to get even for the rap he thought he'd taken for me vivian pretended to play along with him only she got hold of the package long enough to take the bonds out and put the old magazines in instead the idea was the mob would think charlie had double-crossed them taking the goods for himself and delivered a phony packet to their banker which was supposed to be me only you had to get smart and

and set off that burglar alarm. Now I'm getting the squeeze on all sides. The mob, the law, Charlie are all gunning for me at once. Don't worry about the mob and the law, and don't worry too much about Charlie. What are you driving at?

That'll be him now. Who tipped him I was here? Get back in the corner. It's dark in here. He'll never see you. I'll take care of it. All right. Hello, Charlie. Who? Come on in. Oh! Oh, boy, Spade. Get his gun. You're my friend. Sure, I'm your friend. Come here. Yeah, sure, Spade. Pleasant dreams, fellas.

Now I act. Hey, Charlie! No, Leo! Vivian? Sam? Is that you? Yeah. The last of your boyfriends. You mean Leo? Charlie? Yeah. They just knocked each other off. Oh, Sam. I can't see. It's dark. Where are you? Right here in front of the jukebox.

You sure? Hope to die. Drop it, Vivian. It's empty. Sam, I... Vivian, how could you? After half-moon day. Sam!

I'm sorry I had to knock you boys out, Leo, but better lumps than bullet holes, eh? After she started wrapping up the caper, it wasn't too hard to figure what she was up to, providing you could keep her smoke out of your eyes. She told Charlie how to operate on you and told you how to operate on Charlie. A million dollars for her and two dead gangsters lying on the floor of an empty joint where they'd shot it out.

The secret of the missing bonds would have to be written off by the police as having died with either one of whichever of you ever had them. Period. End of something.

Pardon me, Mr. Spade. I know you're tired. And if you're too flushed, please feel free to elude the whole matter. Yes, okay, let's do that. Thank you. Effie said that you were always glad to qualify any little points that she didn't understand. She said that, did she? Yeah. But she also said that quite accidentally that you sometimes leave things out that should be left in. Bernadine, times are very bad. They're cutting salaries everywhere.

But where were they during the whole of Thalia's affair, if you'll pardon the expression? The barns? In the paper towel dispenser, didn't I say so? Oh, that's what you moved to the men. But how did they get there? In the Walrini's, if you'll pardon the expression. Simple. When the thieves whizzed through the alley after the heist,

Vivian had her well-manicured little lunch hook thrust through the window slot to receive them. Oh, that's how the red sailing wax got there. Bernadine, you're spectacular. Now go and type this up. You're making me nervous. ♪♪

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Well, here it is, Mr. Spade. I hope it's not too erroneous. Oh, I'm sure it's quite offensive. Don't you mean inoffensive, Mr. Spade? Have it your way. I don't want to sound imprudent, Mr. Spade, but I must say that your conduct through the whole thing was very brave and outrageous. Don't you mean courageous? Now I've got you doing it. You're going to be just like Mr. Cumberbatch.

Your previous employer, no doubt. Yeah, poor man. You know, he finally became completely erasable. They had to take him away. What were his symptoms? Well, when he ordered the puppy biscuits, I thought he was just being concentric. But after a while, he wouldn't answer to anything but Rover. I had to sprinkle his flea powder in the morning, you know?

And then he had his little tricks. He always wanted to show off, you know, sitting up and rolling over. He could shake hands, too. What's so great about that? Any dog can shake hands. Yeah, but can you scratch your ear with your foot? If I set my mind to it. Now go home, Bernadine, or I'll report you to the SPCA. You can't frighten me. If he told me that your bark is worse than your bite...

Good night, Mr. Spade. Effie in far-off Kanab, come home, sweetheart.

The Adventures of Sam Spade, Dashiell Hammett's famous private detective, are produced and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade is played by Howard Duff. The Adventures of Sam Spade are written for radio by Bob Tolman and Gil Dowd, with musical direction by Ludd Gluskin. Gil Dowd directed tonight's broadcast in William Spear's absence.

Join us again next Sunday for another adventure with Sam Spade, brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil. Again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. This is Dick Joy reminding you to... Get Wild Root Cream Oil, Charlie. It keeps your hair in trim. You see, it's non-alcoholic, Charlie. It's made with silver and lanolin. You better get Wild Root Cream Oil, Charlie.

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