Would You Want To be THE MAN WHO KNEW EVERYTHING?: 11 #RetroRadio Stories! EP0266 #WeirdDarkness
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Present... Suspense! I am the Whistler.

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

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

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

What is a life of adventure? Some people seem to be forever caught up in a maelstrom of events while others go along doing humdrum tasks. Of course, what one person calls exciting is to another just an everyday occurrence. And some people seem content with what Thoreau called lives of quiet desperation. But there is a difference.

Certain individuals create their own excitement. Perhaps we never find adventure unless we go looking for it. But when we do find it, the results may be quite unexpected. Are you sure, miss, that you want to get off at Foothill Junction? Of course. We'll be in about five minutes. But it beats me why anyone should want to get off at the end of nowhere.

The train does stop here, doesn't it? Well, sometimes, when there's a reason. You mean it's not a regular stop on this line? That's right. It's not a town, you know. Just a crossroad. No stores? No portals? Nothing but the station.

Well, I may be living there for quite a while. But nobody lives in Foothill Junction. My uncle does. Your uncle? Yes, Uncle Caleb, the station master. You're staying with him? Mm-hmm. Well, that's hard to believe.

Our mystery drama, Stairway to Oblivion, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Elizabeth Pennell and stars Ann Shepard. It is sponsored in part by Buick Motor Division. I'll be back shortly with Act One. Act One

It is true that Julia had spent most of her life in the city. And at age 35, she gave every appearance of being a sophisticated woman quite able to take care of herself. Yet to an outsider, it might seem odd that she was stepping off a train at what looked like an abandoned station. But Julia had her reasons. For the past three years, she had cared for her ailing father.

Now he was dead. And before taking up a new life, she wanted to satisfy a long-time curiosity. To visit her one remaining relative. An uncle she has never met.

but with whom she has corresponded. I always wondered why my father was reluctant to talk about his older brother. He never bothered to listen when I tried to read him excerpts from Uncle Caleb's letters. The past few weeks have been difficult, disposing of family possessions and selling a big house.

I was tired. I needed a rest, but... The idea of spending a quiet time on a remote mountaintop was very appealing. Well, we're here, miss. Hey, I'll help you with your bags. Thank you. I don't see Caleb. Must be inside the station house. What is this lapidated building? Yeah, it should be torn down. All we need here is a switch box. You wait. I'll see if I can find the old man. Caleb! Caleb!

Caleb! Here you are. Why is the train stopping? You're two minutes late. Caleb, we have a very special passenger. What's that? Passenger? Yeah. Lady says she's your niece. Julia? But not today. It's next week she's coming. Next week. She's waiting for you right now here on the platform. Dear me.

Julia? Julia, my dear, forgive me, but I thought it was next week you were coming. Hello, Uncle James. Well, you said in your letter... Are you sure you'll be all right, miss? Of course she's all right. Give me those bags and get going. The train's five minutes late.

Oh, Uncle Caleb, it's good to meet you at last. I'm sorry if there's some mistake about the date of my arrival. Oh, it's all my fault. Months and days have a way of all blending together up where I live. I'm afraid I've brought quite a bit of luggage. My clothes and some books for you are in that big one. Do we have far to go? Yes, straight up those stairs. Oh!

Oh, that stairway looks as though it goes on forever. Just about. I told you I'd live down top of the world.

This bag of yours is mighty heavy. Wait, perhaps if we carried it together. Well, I'm afraid we can't manage everything at once. I'll just lock the big bag up in the station house. But, Uncle Caleb, all my clothes are in there. Don't worry about that. We'll get them tomorrow. Take the little bag and start up the sails very slowly. I'll catch up with you. Thank you.

68, 9, 70. And plenty more to go. You climb these stairs every day? Well, you get used to them. Here's the one resting place. I see a path leading off there. Where's that go? Just off in the woods. Take a look at the view. Oh, it's breathtaking.

Or maybe it's just the climb that's taking my breath away. We'll be there in a moment now. Just keep going. See? That's my house. It sort of comes at you all of a sudden. Careful! Should have warned you about that stone. Looks like a marker. Yeah, that it is. Read what it says. O-B-L...

Oblivion? Yeah, that's the name of my hideaway. Very appropriate, don't you think? Uh, I guess so. It's rather frightening. Why, Uncle Caleb, it's fantastic. I thought you'd like it. The books. And a laboratory, too. What are you doing with those books?

Those bottles and things. Oh, I like to potter with my pots and potions. Bugs and toads in those jars. But, oh, dear me, I know you'd like to freshen up, but I haven't even got the towels ready. Don't you worry about anything, Uncle Caleb. I'm pretty good at foraging for myself. Whatever there is to do, please let me help you. The bedrooms are down that way, and...

Oh, excuse me. I just remembered. I left poor Crepehanger shut up in the basement. I knew about Crepehanger. I was eager to see the rest of the house. A long hallway opened off the living room with uneven floorboards and many doors, all of them closed. I moved cautiously and then at the very end of the hall, one door was ajar. I went in expecting the worst.

My sagging spirit soared. It was a bright, cheerful room with a window and a view. I knew it wasn't Uncle Caleb's bedroom, even though a pair of well-worn jeans hung over the back of a chair. But my uncle was calling me, and I hurried to tell him I'd found my room. Well, here she is. Grape hanger, this is Julia. Julia.

What a beautiful, beautiful cat. You see, she knows you're a member of the family. And now, my dear, I'm going to show you to your room. Oh, I've already found it. You found Julia's room? The one at the very end. The door was open and I went in. No, my dear, that room is not for you.

Oh, but it looks so comfortable. And it has such a nice view. You haven't seen your Aunt Julia's room. That's the only place for the woman of the house. Aunt Julia never lived in this house. No, my dear. Your Aunt Julia's been dead for 20 years. But she would have liked her room. And so will you. Through this door here.

It looks like my grandmother's bedroom when I was a child. Some of the same furniture. I've been saving it for you. You wanted a view? Look out here. You never wrote me about your garden. Well, it said it's best just before sundown. And now, at last, I bid you truly welcome. As you can see, you have come home. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The dresser reminded me of my mother's.

And feeling like a child, I stealthily open the top drawer and... Uncle Kenneth! What's the matter? Julia, what is it? I opened this drawer and there's a whole nest of baby monies. Yes, yes, of course. And we mustn't disturb them. Disturb them?

I don't like mice. Now, now, Julia, the mice are happy here. It's the perfect place for a nest. Crepehanger can't get them. And they'll never bother you. It's always a great comfort to have living creatures in the house. Uncle Caleb took me into the rear of the garden. Dark trees rose in the background, but there was a wide, clear space laid out in plots and pathways.

And there was a marvelous fragrance in the air. Well, I hope you'll spend a great deal of time out here. It's an herb garden. Oh, it's charming. Let's see, that's thyme. And this is sage. Oh, I'm a classicist. There's rosemary. And rue. And this is comfrey. Very good for healing cuts and bruises. What an array.

And here's what I call my poison plot. Well, it doesn't look very sinister. Lily of the Valley, Larkspur, Jack in the Pulpit, Iris, and Buttercups. Deadly poison, every one of them. Uncle, you're joking. I noticed these from the window.

But I'm relieved to see that they're not gravestones, just natural outcroppings of rock. Forgive me, but from a distance, there's something about the way your garden's laid out made it look like a cemetery. Oh, I planned it that way. Oh, Uncle Caleb, you're a ghoul. Now, don't laugh. This is a proper graveyard, all right. And someday, my Julia and I will be laid to rest here, side by side. Oh.

His words were strange. And after I went to bed, I tossed and turned for hours, ridden with horrible nightmares. I woke late, dressed, and headed down the hallway. Good morning, Crepe Anger. Where's my uncle? I went into the surprisingly modern kitchen, efficient like a hospital, except that the many shelves were filled with herbs and spices.

The makings for a substantial breakfast were on the table, and there was a note from Uncle Caleb which said, I'll be back at 11.30. You know your way to the garden, but please do not, in big capital letters, open any other doors. I'll explain later. Well, he needn't worry. I was not about to pry. But I did want to get outside, and my clothes seemed all wrong for country wear. Then I remembered the jeans in the front room.

If that door was still open, I wouldn't be breaking any rules. It was. Just as it'd been the day before. And I snatched up the jeans from the back of that chair. Just my size if I rolled up the bottom. I didn't stop to wonder who they might belong to for now. They were mine. When Uncle Caleb came back, I was happily kneeling in the garden trying to identify the herd. Julia! Julia!

Julia! I'm out in the garden. Well, I'm glad to see... Julia. Yes, Uncle Caleb. Where did you get those... those... Those what? That disgraceful pair of pants. Oh, I saw them yesterday in that back room there. Well, take them off at once. Well, I will if you've brought my suitcase. I have a couple of pairs of slacks. Sorry, my dear, but...

I could not bring your suitcase. Freight train left a box of provisions and I had too much to carry. But I have no other clothes to wear. We'll take care of that. Come with me to your room. Over there. In the trunk, Julia. Open it. But these are Aunt Julia's clothes. I can't wear anything like this. Look down further.

You'll find something. Oh, what an elegant cashmere sweater. And these skirts, just the kind they're wearing today. Yes, there were plenty of things in that trunk I could wear. Even a denim wraparound for gardening. Then, at the very bottom, I came upon a long sequined evening gown. And pinned to it was a note which read...

This is the dress I want to be buried in. What has our Julia gotten herself into? Even her clothes are no longer her own. The aura around Caleb and his house grows ever more ominous, as you will discover when I return shortly with Act Two. Act Two

As the days slipped by, Oblivion cast a strange spell of lethargy over Julia. For a time, she offered to help her uncle carry her suitcase up the stairs, and then forgot all about it. She even lost all curiosity about what was behind those closed doors. Caleb, too, seemed far more relaxed. They spent many happy hours together in the garden, and Julia became engrossed in the study of herbs. She

She had grown fond of her Uncle Caleb. But this false sense of peace was abruptly shattered early one afternoon when Julia was alone in the garden. Hello? Hello in there. Oh, John, of course he's not here. It's Wednesday. Oh, that's right. Let's go around back and see what the old buzz has been up to in his garden. John, look. Somebody's there. It's a woman. Now don't frighten her.

Excuse me, miss. I'm sorry. We came by to say hello to Caleb. Oh, yes. We're people, but you're looking at us as though we were ghosts. But... Well, how... Well, we're just the son of folks from down the hill. Uncle Caleb never mentioned... Caleb, he's your uncle. He never mentioned you. I'm here on a visit, but I...

I thought this was the only house around for miles and miles. It is, except for our cabin. I haven't seen any cabin. Halfway down the stairs.

Oh, yes. I saw a path. Well, you follow that way into the woods, and there we are. For three months of the year. Only this year, Caleb's in for a surprise. We told him we weren't coming. I see Caleb has put you to work in what Emily and I call his cemetery. Oh, I thought that at first. I guess it's because of those two rocks that look so much like tombstones. I have an idea. They are tombstones. Let's go inside, shall we, until Uncle Caleb comes home. Hmm.

I don't think we should be snooping around this way. Now, aren't you afraid to stay in this spooky house? That skeleton would be enough to turn me off. Don't tell me there's a skeleton in one of the closets. Oh, not in the closet. He rolls it around on a coat rack kind of thing. It must be one of the surprises behind this closed door.

How do you know so much about this house? When we first came here, Caleb showed us all over the place. I think he was trying to frighten us. But we don't scare very easily. Old man never talks about himself. But he's a good neighbor. Except when he has visitors. Then he doesn't want anyone else around. Why? I don't understand. Well, neither do we.

I've been meaning to ask Caleb if I could paint that marvelous view from his guest room. But, of course, now you're staying there. Oh, I'm not in that room. Oh, where are you staying? Up the hall on the other side, looking into the garden. Oh, well, then maybe Caleb will let me paint in the guest room this year. I'm sure he will.

But you keep calling it the guest room. My uncle never wrote about any visitors. Were there many? Since we've been coming up, there were just that older man... And the boy. When was this? Oh, the man was here about four or five years ago. Isn't that right, Emily? Oh, I'd say so. And then he was gone and...

We saw the boy two years ago. Nobody here last summer. I wonder who they were. I thought maybe the boy was your brother or nephew. He called him Uncle Caleb, too.

But that's very puzzling. Say, I'd like to go down the hall and look at that view again. The light should be just right. Oh, I don't want Uncle Caleb to come back and think that we're... But he won't be back until after three o'clock. And we can hear the train when it goes by. This must be Wednesday. So you've forgotten what day it is, too. They just all blend together. Uncle Caleb has...

A built-in time clock, even though he doesn't remember dates. He's down at that station every morning when the freight train comes through. And then one day a week, he waits for the passenger train. Come along, then. Let's take a look at that view. Look at those peaks. I know just the purple I'm going to use. Yeah, I'd forgotten how great it is. This room, a man and a boy...

I found a pair of jeans in here. Well, now, you may be forbidden to open closed doors, but I'm the nosy type. Can't resist closets. Let's see what's in here. Oh, look. It's filled with clothes. Men's work suits. And this old, old jacket. But it's not Uncle Caleb's size. And no one but a teenager could wear these. Well, I'll be damned. There goes the train. Oh.

Uncle Caleb will be back soon. Well, it'll take him a while to climb the stairs. Now, how do you feel about opening dresser drawers? Oh, no, no. I'm afraid to after what I found in the drawer in my room. Okay, it's my turn. Here goes. Men's work gloves. Socks. Here's a jackknife. Wait a minute. Here's something interesting. A wallet. And it's empty. Except for this sort of ID card. Let's see. Name...

James J. Flanders. Address has been crossed out. Date of birth is almost illegible.

Looks like 1900. Well, that has to be old Jim. Isn't that what he said his name was? If he were alive today, his age would be... What makes you think he's dead? Well, because this is his wallet, and in there, all his clothes. But the boy's clothes are there, too. Why didn't he take them with him? Look, we have to get out of here. Your uncle will be coming home, and I'm sure he'll be angry to find us talking to you. Hello?

We were in the living room, and they were about to leave. John had already opened the front door, and then we heard... Julia! Julia! We hurried to the top of the stairs to find Uncle Caleb doubled over, ashen-faced and struggling to breathe. It's been a bad day. Trouble on the tracks. Caleb, it's John and Emily. What can we do? Just help me into the house. I'll be all right in a minute. Oh!

John and I supported my uncle, walking him slowly to the house. When I suggested going straight to his bedroom, he protested so vehemently, we eased him into a chair near the fireplace. Well, young fella, what are you doing here? We're back at the cabin for the summer. What happened to your trip to Europe? I had to give it up.

But you didn't come in on the three o'clock. No, no. We got here yesterday. Not on the freight train, you didn't. No, we backpacked. From where? You left the car at Bearsville. I see. Uncle Caleb's head broke forward, and he was seized with a violent coughing. I'd already loosened his collar, and now I tried to rub his chest. Uncle Caleb...

You must have some digitalis. Where is it? Fox Club. In that jar on my big table. Lily of the Valley. Put it in some water. And John and Emily, you can help me to my room. I must lie down. I put water on the stove and found the bottle labeled Lily of the Valley Root.

With shaking hands, I measured a very small portion into a cup of hot water and took it down the hall to my uncle's bedroom. All right, my dear. I wanted to spare you for a little while, but you'd see it sooner or later. I couldn't believe I was seeing it then. The walls and floor were black, and so was the big bed with a prow like a Viking ship.

My uncle looked like a ghost propped up against those white pillows. And thank heaven, John had warned me. Because there on one side of the bed was that coat rack thing from which dangled a full-size skeleton. Don't be frightened, my dear. You'll soon get used to everything around here.

Uncle Caleb needs a doctor. How do I get one? No way. Not up here. But there's a telephone down at the station. Yes, but no passenger train until next week. You have to tell the train company that Uncle Caleb won't be able to... Oh, you'd be surprised. He's a sturdy old man. And he's had these attacks before. I'll flag down the freight train tomorrow. But, Julie, you shouldn't be left alone with him.

I think we should stay here. You're darn right we're going to stay. I'm not helpless, really, I'm not. I've taken care of my father for the last three years. Frankly, I'm worried, Julia. Now, what if your uncle is... is only pretending to be sick? How can you say that? You saw for yourself. I've seen other things, too. Like what's down in the basement. Look, you've both said that. What is down in the basement?

There are two carved gravestones. That doesn't surprise me. But one has the name Caleb, and the other name is Julia. Doesn't that tell you something? Yes. Uncle Caleb told me that one day he would rest peacefully in the garden behind this house next to his Julia. But that's you. Oh, now I see what's troubling you. He met his wife.

My aunt, Julia. I'm beginning to think her remains may already be in the garden. I wonder... Julia! Where's my Julia? I hurried to Uncle Caleb's room, feeling better. Yes, yes, my dear. Do you remember that time when you were feeling so very ill and I asked what you'd like for supper?

Oh, that must have been Aunt Julia. Then you looked at me so sweetly, just the way you're looking now. And I said, I'd do anything in the world for you, Julia. Anything to help you. And I'm sure you did. Always tried to... tried to help people like Jamie and Robin. Oh!

Oh, John. John, let's go back in the house. All right. I'll leave the shovel here. But that's all the proof I need. It's horrible. But what are we going to tell Julia? John, all that dirt. Where's it been? Sit down, Julia. There's something we've got to talk about. No, don't tell her, John. Arnie...

You have to get away from this evil place. Oh, stop it, both of you. My uncle may be eccentric, but he's a kind, gentle old man. Yeah, I used to believe that, but no more. We're letting our imaginations run away with us. But, Julia, I have the proof. Proof of what? I remembered that four years ago, there was only one stone in the backyard. Then, last year, the smaller one had been added.

Go on. So I took a shovel and went out just now. Oh, you had no right. I didn't dig down very far. Just far enough to establish that two wooden coffins are buried out there. One of them is about six feet long, big enough for a man, and the other is smaller, just about the right size to hold a boy. Oh!

Now, what do you think of the kindly Uncle Caleb? It's true that Julia was ready for adventure, but she has no intention of taking her dead aunt's place. Eccentricity is one thing, but the way things are shaping up, Caleb could be a scheming old man, or else something has snapped in his brain and he has lost all sense of reality. In either case, Julia appears to be in a dangerous predicament.

I'll be back shortly with Act Three. Julia has been confronted with some highly incriminating evidence against her uncle. If there really are two bodies buried in his garden, shouldn't the police be summoned?

John, who made the discovery, is all for placing a telephone call at the railroad station to give a report on what he has found. But Julia is surprised at her own reaction. She feels protective toward her uncle. And although one might think she'd be grateful to have friendly neighbors, she finds herself resenting their interference.

Don't you see, Julia? It's our duty to turn your uncle in. You don't know what you're talking about. After what I've uncovered? You have found nothing. You call two coffins nothing? None of us knows what's in those coffins. Well, I can certainly find out in a hurry. I forbid you to destroy my Uncle Caleb's garden. Julia, you're beginning to sound as batty as... Oh, I'm sorry. I realize you've been through a lot. And you're not thinking straight. I know my uncle better than you do.

I'm thinking that the smaller coffin may contain the remains of my Aunt Julia. And the other one? It's just like Uncle Caleb to be saving that one for himself. Well, there's another way to find out. You're right. Let's just ask Uncle Caleb. But if he's really sick. I mean, when he gets stronger. In the meantime, I suggest we have some supper and then you can go home.

There's really no reason for you to spend the night. We're staying. John, I want to thank you and Emily for what you've done to help me and Julia. I was lucky we were here. Very lucky, because I have another favor to ask. My niece won't let me out of bed. The 11 o'clock freight will be going straight through.

But if they should slow down, then I don't want them to think no one's mind in the store. Oh, I plan to be there when the train comes through. But they won't be stopping today. I'm going to flag them down. No need to do that. Emily and I need groceries. I want to place an order. Well, freight company won't like it. Plenty of groceries here. I'll place a big order later on. I'd rather do it myself, the way I used to. Times have changed.

But if the train does stop, tell them I'll be back on the job tomorrow. I'll be off. Oh, I'll go halfway down the stairs with you. I want to check up on the cabin. It's good to have you here to look after us, girl. I like being called that, Uncle Caleb. I, uh...

What did I call you? A girl. Well, of course. And that's what you'll always be. It's why I don't like to burden you with my problems. If there's anything you want to tell me, Uncle Caleb, you know I'll always listen. But it's just that if anything should happen to me, I want you to make certain that my Julia and I lie side by side, just as we always do. You mean in the garden? Yes.

Yes, I've left instructions in my will, but I'll feel so much better knowing a member of the family will take care of things personally. Well, of course, Uncle Caleb. You can count on me. But you know, you hadn't told me that Aunt Julia is already buried in the garden. Oh, she isn't, Julia. Not by herself. We'll go together.

But where is she? She's there, in that handsome urn on my bedside table. Mercifully, it was several hours before John and Emily returned. I calmed down and decided it was not yet time to give them this latest bit of information. John would be all too eager to rip the covers off those coffins.

And there was no need to hurry. The dead could wait. Hi, Julia. How's your uncle? Resting comfortably, thank you. Where'd you get that gaudy thing? Down at the cabin. It's an extra calendar. I thought you'd better start keeping track of the days.

I've circled today's date. Well, thanks very much. And here's a bag of oranges. The brakeman threw them off to me. Then you did stop the train. You bet I did. Had a talk with the engineer. He says there's no reason to have a station at Foothill Junction. And before long, any switching will be done by automation. That means Uncle Caleb will be out of a job. Well, okay, Julia. I didn't make any telephone calls. Kept my part of the bargain. What about yours? Please.

Give me just a few days more alone with my uncle. I'm sure there's an explanation. I put off asking Uncle Caleb any questions until one morning. I found him in the guest room admiring the view. He sat in a rocker stroking crepe hanger curled up in his lap. Uncle Caleb, you know a man named Flanders.

Flanders? No, can't say I know anyone by that name. Try to remember. James J. Flanders. Why, you don't mean Jamie, do you? I don't know. Who's Jamie? Poor Jamie. He's dead. Very nice man. He stayed in this room, didn't he? Yeah, Jamie loved this room. But how did you know he was here? We found a wallet.

In that dresser with his name on it. We? Now, who do you mean by we? Well, I should say John found the wallet. But they knew about Mr. Flanders. I didn't. Just what did they know about him? Only that he was staying with you one summer. How did you meet him?

Meet Jamie? Mm-hmm. They rolled him off the freight one winter morning about five years ago. Poor derelict man. Thin as one of the rails he was riding. And you brought him home? True gentleman, if there ever was one. But the sickness had gone too far. Jamie didn't have long to live. You took care of him? Oh, I gave him food and clothes.

His strength came back and we thought he was going to be well. But it came too late. He loved it here and he wanted to stay. I see. So you buried him in the garden. Well, it's where he wanted to be. Uncle Caleb, there are two unmarked gravestones in your garden. Oh, so you know about Robin, too. I know nothing about Robin. Dear Robin...

I found him in the woods nearly starved to death. And it was October. A boy? Way up here? Where did he come from? From Bearsville. No. You don't mean that he escaped from that mental institution? That was no place for a bright boy like Robin. Oh, Uncle Caleb. You can't just take in a boy who's a runaway. And why not?

He needed a home. But didn't they look for him? Oh, yes, but I hid him in the basement. I don't know what to say. How long did this boy live with you? Nearly a year. I tried so hard to help him, but... Well, he must have been sickly from the time he was born. It was too late to save a small soul who'd been abandoned when he was a baby. Uncle Caleb, when you say you helped him...

Do you mean that you... I mean I gave him love and the only home he'd ever known. That's why Robin must never be taken away. I realized if it were not for John and Emily, I too might sink completely under the spell of this place called oblivion. Reluctantly, I went halfway down the stairs for the first time since I had climbed to the top.

and followed the pathway to the artist's cabin. You believe everything he told you, don't you, Julia? I've no reason to doubt anything he said. I think it's the perversion of a demented mind. John, don't say that. There's no harm in trying to help people.

My uncle did nothing wrong. Nothing wrong? He may have murdered two people, possibly more. My uncle could never commit a crime. It's a criminal offense to harbor fugitives. And no sane person buries bodies in the backyard. Now, what are we going to do? You're not going to do anything. I'm taking a trip to Bearsville. You mean you're turning your uncle in? No. I'm going to tell them about that poor boy.

And if he had no family, I'm sure that... What about the man named Flander? Well, I'll get legal advice. Well, you better let me handle it. Take it easy, John. This is Julia's problem. All right, all right. But if she doesn't come back with some straight answers, I'm going to the authorities and tell them exactly what I think. It was a week to the day since Uncle Caleb's heart attack. He'd been doing a little work in the garden and showing signs of restlessness.

Emily had come over. I suspect just to check up on us. It was nearly 11 o'clock in the morning. Julia, what day is today? Well, let's see. Where's the calendar I brought you? Harry, I have to know. The day you...

Circled Emily was Saturday, so it's Sunday. Monday, Tuesday. Today is Wednesday. I should have known. I have to get down to the station. Now, don't worry, Caleb. John's there. You don't understand. I have to go. I have to do it. Do what? The switch. I have to throw the switch before the train passes the station.

My jacket. Where's my jacket? Just a minute, Uncle Caleb. You're not going anywhere. It should have been fixed long ago. I told them the last time. I'll go down the stairs for the message. No one else knows what's wrong. I'm the only one. You're not well enough. Not down that long flight of stairs. Last week, trouble with the switch. It jammed and I threw the emergency for the passenger train. But the passenger train doesn't get here till three. That should be plenty of time. No. No.

Oh, the way it's set now, the freight will go through on the passenger tracks. And about 20 miles from here, there'll be a head-on collision. But there must be some way that you can... The freight doesn't slow down on Wednesdays. I am the only one who knows about that switch. I must hurry. We're right with you. Let go of me. I can't be late.

He made it. Caleb, stop the train. I know. He said he had to do it. John! John!

John, everything's all right now, isn't it? Go on back up the hill, both of you. There's nothing you can do. Well, then we don't need to give you the message. What message? About the switch, the broken switch. Switch? So that's why he did it. That's exactly why. He should have told me last week. Where is Caleb? I suppose there was no other way. No other way to stop that freight train. Caleb threw himself across the track. The End

Uncle Caleb's death, like his wife's, was dedicated to helping people. Perhaps on the evidence you believe that, or if you have a different kind of imagination, you may believe there was a darker side to his nature. That's up to you. As for Julia, I'll tell you about her in just a moment.

Caleb left everything he possessed to Julia. And she, too, had fallen in love with that mountaintop.

Oh, she reported the deaths of Jamie and Robin, but since no one claimed them, they rested in peace beside Caleb and Aunt Julia in the garden where they all wanted to be in oblivion. Our cast included Ann Shepard, Guy Sorrell, Mary Jane Higbee, and Nat Poland. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. Hyman!

And now, a preview of our next tale. Killed Cyrus Darrow, but I didn't. He's dead, son. Big hole in his forehead caused by the forcible entry of a pistol ball. There must be some mistake. No, sir. There's no mistake.

This here, this your pistol? Of course it's my pistol. It was found 50 yards away from Cyrus' house. No, you couldn't have found it 50 yards away because... Because? Well, it can't be my pistol. I remember, I put it back in my bag. Yeah? Yeah. Hey, it isn't here. Of course not. How could it be in that bag and in my hand at one and the same time? I never, I didn't... Mr. Jones, as sheriff of Springfield County...

I hereby arrest you for the murder of Cyrus Darrow. What? And may the Lord have mercy on your soul. What are you saying? That's right. That's right. I shouldn't say that just yet. After all, you ain't been tried. But you'll get a fair trial before they hang you. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre. Until next time, pleasant dreams.

Sam! Sam!

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We bring you Creeps by Night. The Blue Network presents the 13th in a series of dramatic explorations into the vast and unknown darkness of the human mind.

Tonight, in the absence of Boris Karloff, who has been your host on this program of mystery, we take the opportunity to introduce the man who henceforth will serve as your guide and companion along the dark and often terrifying pathway of the unexplored. He will come to you only as a voice, since for reasons best known to himself, he prefers to remain anonymous.

He stands before me now, ready to lead you into the dim and distant world beyond the realm of human understanding. Creep, by night, presents its master of mystery, Dr. X. Good evening. I have been asked to serve as your master of mystery on these weekly pilgrimages into the unknown.

to choose for you stories that peer deep into the tortured souls of men and draw aside the shadowy curtain of the mind. For the time being, I shall have to be known only as Dr. X, my identity cloaked in the very darkness of which we speak. Perhaps some of you will recognize my voice. If you do, I pledge you to secrecy. It will be my duty on this program to select for you stories that have been drawn from the mystery of life itself.

From time to time I will invite leading actors, men like Peter Laura, Piero Lugosi, Edmund Gwynne, Basil Rathbun and others to participate in our dramatic explorations. But enough of talk. Join with me now as we see unfolded before us the weird chronicle of the walking dead. Let me take you to the black island of Haiti, deep in the Caribbean.

to a coffee plantation some 40 miles from the city of Port-au-Prince. It is long after dark, and the night is hot and sultry, deadly quiet, save for the rhythmic beating of native drums off in the distance. At long intervals, a human voice cries out, rising above the drums like the dismal wailing of a lost soul. On the porch of the cottage adjoining the plantation office, a man stares out into the darkness, obviously waiting for something.

Suddenly, a car swings into the open gate. Its headlight blazing. It pulls up before the cottage. A gray-haired man carrying a black bag steps out. He mounts the steps, and the man waiting on the porch greets him. Dr. Nelson? Yes. I'm Walter Craig, manager of the plantation. Glad to know you, Mr. Craig. Sorry about being so late, but your call to the public health office somehow got lost in the shuffle. We've been under terrific pressure these last few days. It doesn't...

Doctor, too late, eh? One of your informants, wasn't it? Yes. He's still alive, but I don't think there's much you can do for him. Well, I'll try. Where is he? Across the road in that hut. But before you see him, I think I'd better tell you something about this. Go ahead. The man's name is Leroux. He's a Frenchman. He was released from the penal colony last April on probation.

Hmm.

I questioned a couple of them, but... Well, you know how they are. Tight-lipped. All I could learn was that LaRue had had an argument with the man just before the body was found. LaRue, of course, denied killing him.

But that night, the Rada drums started to beat. They've been beating every night since. Why? The natives have certain LaRue murdered that beggar. They've been trying to put the hex on him. Hear that? It's the death wail. They know he's dying. They know it because they're killing him. Oh, now, hold on, Craig. It's all right to talk about native customs and black magic, but you can't kill people by beating drums and wailing. Doctor...

How long have you been in Haiti? Six months. But what difference does that make? I've been on the island for 15 years, and I've learned one thing. There's a great deal that goes on down here that we know nothing about, that we can't explain. Oh, now... You can call it voodoo or black magic or anything you wish, but it's there. Let me tell you what happened. Go ahead. The more they beat those drums at night, the more LaRue drove the devil during the day.

I warned him to lay off, but he laughed. The night before last, I caught two of them sprinkling graveyard dirt around his hut. What's graveyard dirt? They believe that dirt dug from around a corpse can maim and kill. That's rubbish. Maybe it is. But remember this. These natives are experts on poisons. They use dogwood root and bamboo dust, both deadly and with no known antidote. They use dried and powdered lizards. Some stuff they get out of the gallbladders of alligators.

Maybe there is something in graveyard dirt. I don't know. I doubt it very much. Well, at any rate, after I caught those two, I told Lou we'd better get off the island if he knew what was good for him. He said he'd make it over. But they didn't give him a chance. This morning he couldn't get out of bed. His legs were paralyzed. I watched him all day and the paralysis kept creeping up his body. He can scarcely breathe now and he can't talk. All he does is mumble. That's strange. Let's get a look at him. I'd better tell Miss Carlisle you're here. She'll probably want to come along.

Incidentally, she doesn't know anything about this except that LaRue is sick. Who's Miss Carlyle? Her father owns this plantation. She died back in the States last month. She came down a week ago to look things over. She's inside the cottage. I'd rather not have a woman present when I examine him, Craig, if it can be helped. Well, all right. Follow me. Wait a minute. What's the matter? The drums. They've stopped. That's fine. They're beginning to get on my nerves. Come on. No, wait.

Do you hear anything? Low voices and a shuffling of feet. No. I do. I'd better get a flashlight.

Good Lord. What's that? I thought something was wrong. They've surrounded LaRose Hut. Mr. Craig. Mr. Craig. That's Miss Carlyle. Excuse me a minute. I'm out here on the porch. What's happening? All of a sudden, those drums and that chanting. Oh, there's someone with you. It's Dr. Nelson of the Public Health Office in Port-au-Prince. How are you doing, Miss Carlyle? Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Doctor. What's going on out there, Mr. Craig? The natives have surrounded LaRose Hut. Why? I don't know. We'd better get to them, Craig, before they do some damage. That racket certainly can't help a dying man.

It's too late now. Too late? What do you mean? There's only one way to get along with the natives down here, Miss Carlisle. Don't do the fail of them. Leave them alone. That's all well and good, Craig, but you say a man's dying in that hut. I may be able to do something wrong. Of course, it's ridiculous. Order them back to their caverns, Mr. Craig. They won't take orders now. They're wild with religious fervor. That chanting you hear goes back a thousand years to when there were scavengers in the jungle. Do you mean to say that you're going to stand by... Just a minute, Miss Carlisle.

I'll send the houseboy over to see what's going on. The inside? Yes. Sobo! What's that? I don't quite understand why you can't order them away, Mr. B. You'll understand if you're down here for any length of time. Here comes the houseboy. You'll go, mister? Yes, Sobo. Go over to LaRose's hut and see what's happening. No, mister, no. No can go. He make vocal chant. LaRose, you're more vocal than one more. What's he saying? He says LaRose's dead. That's the vocal chant we're hearing.

They're going to take his body away. They're going to turn him into a zombie. Zombie? That's all the ridiculous nonsense. What's a zombie? What are you talking about? A zombie, Miss Carlisle, is a corpse that's been brought back to life.

Down here, they call them a walking dead. You mean to stand there and tell me that you believe that? I don't believe or disbelieve, Miss Carlyle. All I know is that for centuries, the natives of Haiti have conducted weird rites. Sober here, I'll tell you. Some of their ceremonies have made your hair stand on end. Is that any reason for letting a man die with savage drums beating in his ears?

He's already dead. How do we know? They never use the Bocard chant except over a corpse. Now look, Mr. Craig, I own this plantation and you're employed by me. And I insist that you order those natives away from their house. Don't lose your temper, Miss Carl. I'm not losing my temper, but I... Listen to me a moment. I've had 15 years of painting. 15 years of learning how to get along with native help.

You're not in the United States now. This isn't Georgia or Alabama. It's the West Indies. You're a foreigner in a strange land. A land where the roots of voodoo and black magic grow deep and strong. We know all that, Craig. But the facts do remain... Just a minute, Doctor.

I've seen men disappear on this island. Finish off the face of the earth. They were men who laughed at native superstition just the way you're laughing at it. Don't be stupid, Mr. Craig. Nobody's laughing. We're trying to save a man's life. Why did you call Dr. Nelson from Port-au-Prince if you didn't intend him to examine the route? Yes. Forty miles is a long way to come to listen to native dronings.

Neither of you can understand what I'm driving at, can you? All I know is that a human being is lying in that hut, deathly sick. When I saw him this afternoon, he was in pitiful condition. Nobody's denying that, Miss Carlisle. Now you say he's dead, just because you hear some chanting and some drum beating. And you refuse to order those natives away so the doctor can examine them. It isn't that I refuse, it's simply that... Never mind. If you won't order them away, I will. Miss Carlisle, come back. Miss Carlisle. Hey, you let her go over there alone? Quick, doctor, after her.

We'll never find her this way, Clay. We'd better go back to the house and phone for help. We've got to find her. I don't trust those devils tonight. I never saw anything like it. She ran across the road toward the hut, and before we could get to her, they swallowed her up like an avenging cloud. And then they were gone. That's how they work. Did they take LaRue's body with them? Yes.

Come on. We'll take a chance and bust in on their ceremony. I may be able to keep them in check. Are you sure it's safe? I'm not sure about anything. Keep that flashlight off. I don't want them to know we're coming. Let's go. You know, it's always been a mystery to me why the authorities haven't stepped in to control these natives. They've tried, but it doesn't work. This stuff is a religion with them. That's no excuse for killing and kidnapping. They only kill when someone has done them harm.

Let's go.

Let's sneak up behind the shack to see what they're doing. All right. Hey.

Exactly, Craig. How many of them do you think there are? About 200. Good Lord. Under ordinary circumstances, they're quiet and peaceful. Oh, I should have known better than to keep over one plantation all this is here doing. Well, it's too late now to blame anyone. Over this way, Doctor. Crouch down. There. You can see him now. Hold up. They're all kneeling in a circle. Except the one in the middle. Who's he? The phone car, I guess. The head man. Oh, they start chanting. Now what? I don't know.

Anything can happen. Don't move. That's a new channel. He's asking the questions and answering. I've heard that before. I don't like the sound of it.

Well, Doctor, you stay here. I'm going to walk right into that circle. You'd better be careful, Craig. That automatic isn't going to be much help against the wanted maniac. They're likely to tear you to pieces. I doubt it. Anyways, where's the chance? Wait, I'd better go with you. No, this isn't your affair. It's mine. In case I do run into trouble, go back to the house as fast as you can and put in a call to the police. Yes, I will. Okay. Wish me luck.

Good luck, Craig. What was that? It's Sobo. He's crawling up behind us. I wondered what had happened to him. Go back out. Bad stay here. We've got to find the girl, Sobo, the Missy Lady. No, no, no, no. The kill chat. Bad. What did you say? The chat. It's the kill chat. Go back. Sobo bring Missy Lady. You know where she is? Sobo find. Is she alive? Ask him. Missy Lady lives, Sobo. Sobo find. Sobo bring back. Go. All right.

Come on, Doctor. Back to the house. I tell you, Craig, I don't trust your houseboy. It's been almost an hour since he sent us back here. The drums stopped beating long ago. He's always been trustworthy. He's been with me 15 years.

Let's see if that phone works now. Maybe we can get through to Port-au-Prince. What good will it do? They can't get here in less than an hour. And anyway, the whole police department couldn't tackle 200 of them. Hello? Hello? Ah, there's something wrong with the line. I've got a feeling we'll never see that girl again, Craig. Dead or alive. I warned her not to interfere. Why didn't she listen to me? Why didn't she stay where she belongs, back in the States? How would I have enough trouble down here without this? Now, now, don't lose your head, Craig. Take it easy. Raving and ranting isn't going to get us anywhere.

I suggest we go out there and look for her again. The drums and the chanting have stopped. Maybe they've calmed down. I'll go out. You get into your car and drive over to the Lallymore Plantation. It's about ten miles from here on the road to Port-au-Prince. Get some help. You think there's time for that? Where are your other foremen? They're both in Port-au-Prince loading a coffee cargo. We would be away tonight of all nights. But anyway, I think that's the best plan. You go for help and I'll see if I can locate Sobo. Wait. I hear someone coming, Craig. Don't open the door. Why not? I'll open it. I've got a gun.

Who is it? Who's out there? Get the flashlight off the table, doctor. It's my houseboy, Captain Carlisle. Good Lord. Clear this sheet. Come on. Carrier inside, Sobo. Flash a light on the steps, doctor. Yes, I am. Easy, Sobo, easy. Watch the steps. The drums are beating again. Let them beat. All right, carrier in, Sobo, and put her on the couch. Close the door, doctor. Be sure it's locked. Yes, sir.

Put her down, Sobo. Carefully. Let me look at her. In the meantime, get some water. Water, Sobo. You're all right now, Miss Carlisle. Just relax.

Open my bag, Craig. You'll find some spirits of a moment. Right. There now. Just relax. There you are. Thank you. Now, just breathe deeply, Miss Carla. That's fine. Once more. There we are. Here comes the water. Pour some in the glass. Put it on the table, Sobo. Feel better now, don't you? Yes.

There you are, doctor. Thank you. Now, drink this, Miss Collin. Here, I'll hold your head up. There now, just lean back. It was horrible. Simply horrible. I don't think you'd better talk for a while. I've got to tell him. They put his body in a grave, an open grave. A rose? Yes.

What happened when you ran across the road toward the hut? I don't know. Suddenly, they were surrounding me. I could see their teeth flashing in the darkness. I screamed, and that's all I remember until I woke up. I was lying on the ground. They were all kneeling around the grave. Their body was in it. There was a torch burning, and one of them was chanting. What's that? Sobo says the man chanting was the bokor.

The one who makes the dead rise and become zombies. I think we've had enough of native superstition tonight, Craig. Let's stick to the facts. How did you get away from them, Miss Carlisle? No one was watching me. They were all watching the body in the grave. I crawled up in the darkness and someone found me.

Brought me back here. Yes, well, it's all over now. You had us worried for a while. I think you'd better try to get some sleep. I can't sleep. All I keep seeing is that poor man's body. Don't think about it. There's nothing we can do. Isn't there some way of getting him a decent burial? You might as well know what this is all about, Miss Carlisle. Leroux murdered one of the natives. Murdered him ten days ago. They've been out to get him ever since in their own way. That's why the drums were beating every night.

I told you it was their usual ceremony, just those not to frighten you. But it was more than that. They were seeking revenge. Now they've got it. You mean because he's dead? That's only part of it. They're going through the zombie ritual now. That's what you saw at the open grave. According to their belief, they can bring LaRue back to life.

Make him a living corpse who will obey their orders. Then why were they putting his body in a grave? That's part of the ceremony. They bury him until midnight. Then the corpse rises as a zombie. That's right, isn't it, Sobel? It's the most ghastly thing I ever heard of. And the most ridiculous. I wouldn't be too sure about that, Dr. Nelson. How long does the person remain a zombie? As long as they want him to. The bokor, the head man, controls that.

They can stop it at will. How? You're asking me questions I can't answer, Doctor. Questions I wouldn't even attempt to answer. But this much I know. There are zombies on this island right now. How they came into being, I don't know. But they're here. I don't believe it. I hope I never have to prove it to you, Doctor. Do these zombies talk and act like human beings? No. It's a horrible thing to say, but they look dead. Their eyes are hollow and their skin has no color.

They walk like people in a dream. Heavy-footed and leaden. When they try to speak, all that comes out is weird mouthings. It isn't very pleasant, I can assure you. And that's what they're going to do with LaRue? You suppose so. Why? Revenge. As I told you, he not only killed one of them, but he drove them unmercifully. Once he's a zombie, they'll drive him. Make him sweat. He'll become their slave. Do anything they order. You know that's nonsense, Craig. I'm not so sure, Doctor. Have you ever seen a zombie living corpse? Only once.

And I never want to see another. You mean, uh, actually people who've been raised from the dead? Of course not. You can take it from me as a position that death is final. Absolutely final. Perhaps throughout the rest of the world. But not in Haiti. Now, listen, Craig. All you're managing to do is fight in this girl. I think perhaps the best thing is Carlisle would leave you to drive back into Port-au-Prince with me. It's just midnight. We'll be there at 1.30. How about it? I... I don't know. It's a good idea. Chances are nothing's going to happen, but...

On porch. What? He said he heard steps on the porch. Don't be alarmed. I don't hear anything. Where's the flashlight? I have it here in my pocket. Wait. Don't move. What's that? Sobo's right. Someone is on the porch. You stand over there with the flash, Doctor. Right. Get back, Sobo. I'll open the door. No, no. That guy said... Hey, listen. Somebody. No. No.

Doctor, take her into a bedroom and come back here, hurry. Yes, come, Miss Carlyle. Please, please, don't open the door. Get out of here, Doctor. Come on, Miss. There's nothing to be afraid of. I know, but we'll take care of it. Dr. Nelson. Yes, yes, I'm coming. Stand back, Stubble. That's it. Miss Carlyle, right now, Craig. Good. Now, stand behind me a little to the left and keep that flashlight on the door. You're not serious about it being a zombie, are you, Craig? Whatever it is, it didn't sound human. All set now? Yes. All right. I'm going to open the door.

Keep that light steady, Doctor. The door's locked, you know. I locked it when we came in. I know. Craig, perhaps it might be better to... Don't worry. There were six bullets in this automatic. That should be enough. Get ready now. Here goes. There's nobody out there. Careful, Craig. The porch is empty. Are you sure? Positive. Come on in with that flashlight. You too, Subbo. We heard heavy footsteps, didn't we? And that weird moaning? Yes, but there's no one here now. Flashlight around. That's it.

See anything? No. Not a thing. Well, there may be some footprints in the driveway. Let's check. It's hard to tell at night. There's a good clear print. That could be mine when I get out of the car. Matter of fact, it is. I suggest, Craig, that we lock up and remain in the house until daylight. No sense taking chances. Probably the best idea.

What I don't understand is... Good Lord, that's Miss Carlisle. Come on, follow me. What do I see in here? We're at the end of the hall. What happened? The window. He was standing at the window. Who was standing at the window, Miss Carlisle? Marlowe. Marlowe? Yes. I've never seen anything so horrible. You're sure it wasn't your imagination? No, no, I saw his face. It was like a death mask. It looked like blue and his skin was ghostly white. Good Lord. Come on.

You stay here with Miss Carlisle. The doctor and I are going out front. Did you see or hear anything yell? We won't. Come on, doctor. What do you make of it, Craig? I don't know what to make of it. Do you think she really saw someone at the window? Wouldn't be a bit surprised. Watch those porch steps. I noticed one of them's a little rickety. What do you propose to do, Craig? Take a look around. Stay close and keep that light swinging. That's fine. I really think it'd be much better off if we locked all the windows. Hold up.

What is it? I thought I'd heard someone moving up ahead. Swing your light slowly to the left. Across the road. Easy. Easy. Hold it. Lord in heaven. It's a man. Steering at us. It's Leroux. He's running away. Keep your light on him. Leroux. Leroux. Stop or I'll shoot. You missed him. He's ducking in the hut. His own hut. We've got him now. The two front windows and the door are the only exits. Come on. Right. All right. It's far enough. You take the gun, Doctor. I'll go

I'll go back to some rags and some oil. Rags and oil? What for? I'm going to set that hut on fire. Quaker, are you out of your mind? You can't burn a man alive. What makes you think he's alive? He's got to be alive. We saw him running. You still won't admit that strange things happen here on the island, will you? Strange? Yes. All right, if you think he's alive, we'll take him alive. Get down low and crawl towards that hut. Keep your light out. Ready? Yeah. The hut's open.

When we get close enough, flash a light through. You say you can't get out any other way? No. The door or the front windows? I'm watching them all. If this 38 doesn't stop him, nothing will. Is this far enough? I think so. I'm ready if you are. Go ahead. Flash the light through the open door.

The hut's empty. No, it isn't. He's stretched out on a bed. See him? Yes. What's he doing that for? I don't know. Take the light on him. Come on. This may be a trap, Craig. Be careful. I'm watching him. Hold the light steady. Steady as I can. Are we going into the hut? Yes. Come right behind me. Well, there he is, Doctor. Hold the light, Craig. Let me get a look at him. Keep it on his face. Miss Carlisle was right.

His lips are blue and his skin is ghostly white. Are you sure this man is LaRue, your foreman? Yes. I can't believe it. What do you mean? Is this the man we saw running into the hut? Yes, of course. And you were right. Evidently strange things do happen on this island. They do? Yes, Craig. This man has been dead for three hours. Oh, no.

Oh, anybody here? Richard, that high-back chair. There's someone sitting in it. All you can see is his hand and wrist resting on the arm of the chair with a burning cigarette between the fingers. He must be asleep. Why don't you wake him up? Wait a minute. Richard. The cigarette. The cigarette.

It's burned down to the man's fingers. Whoever that is over there, he's dead. Did you read it, sir? Oh, I say. Oh. Are you the innkeeper? I'm sorry I was so long, sir. We're short-handed these days. I was outside. Couldn't come any sooner. There's a dead man over there. What was that? A dead man. Sitting right over there in that chair. What?

Well, he's gone. But Richard... Did you say a dead man, sir? Yes. He was sitting there in that chair. He was there. My wife and I both saw him. Must have been the shadows from the fire, sir. I say, come here, will you? Are you looking for lodging? What is it, dear? Come over here. All right. There was someone here. Certainly there was. We both saw him. Look. There on the floor by the arm of that chair.

A burning cigarette? Yes. The one we saw burning in the dead man's hand. Yes. I say, innkeeper, come over here. Oh, I didn't see you follow us. Look, we saw the man from over at the desk. All we could see was his arm and hand with a cigarette between his fingers. That's the cigarette down there. Still burning. And it was burning the man's fingers. I'm sure you're both mistaken, sir.

There's been no one here in the lobby. It was merely the shadows from the fireplace. Then how do you account for that burning cigarette there on the floor? One of the guests probably dropped it, sir, by accident before retiring. But I tell you, there was someone sitting in this chair. Then, since he's not here now, it may have been the aunt. The... the aunt? Yes, miss.

Folks call him the ghost of the pig in Amah. Oh, come now. Don't start any nonsense about ghosts. His name was Trafalgar. First or last, I don't know which. No one remembers. He built this old wayside inn more than 200 years ago. Married his girl he did just after it was finished. The night he moved in, he was murdered in cold blood by one of the girl's rejected swines. Killed Trafalgar for revenge he did.

Right here in this room, while his honor was smoking his last smoke before retiring. Oh, then it was the ghost. Could have been, miss. Could have been. Folks claim they see him every now and then, though I can't say I has. I say, look. Yes, Governor? There, on the back of that chair. Isn't that a spot of blood? Well, no, I don't rightly know, sir, but... Well, yes, it is.

I believe you're right, Gavney. Oh. The man was stabbed in the back. He was through art. Seems that spot there would be just about where he would leave blood behind. Was he to sit in this chair here? Oh, Richard, let's go. Oh, so you've seen him too. Well, that makes three times this month. Seems like he's making quite a habit of it.

visiting us lightly. Shall we go, dear? Yes, Emily. Right away. Will you two be wanting a room for the night? Oh, no. No, we're looking for a place called Maryvale. Maryvale, yes, I... Yes, we thought we had the right directions from Effingshire, but we ended up here. We seem to have lost the way. Oh, no, Governor. You just haven't gone far enough.

Maryvale lies about 20 kilometers to the west. How far is that in miles? About 12, 13. Then let's go on, Richard. We can make it in 20 minutes. The road is not so good, miss. Take probably 45 instead of 20. Besides, Maryvale hasn't been occupied for nigh on to six years.

You say it hasn't? Oh, no, sir. But we understood it had been occupied by a Miss Priscilla Longacre. Yes. Miss Longacre died about four months ago and left Merrillville Estate to me. When I managed to clean up my affairs in Madrid, we came up to retire and live on the estate. I was with a British concern in Spain. Now I've resigned and come up here.

Until I got that message, I didn't even know I had an aunt living in England. You say her name was Priscilla Longacre? That's right. She died late in December. Day or so after Christmas. Priscilla Longacre has been dead for five years. What? Indeed she has, Governor. Police folks say that. Five years ago, she telephoned here to the inn she did and asked for Dr. Riley. He answered the call...

and found her dead. So he come back to make a report. But when the authorities got to the place, the body was gone. Some say it was stolen. Some say the old lady become a zombie. Oh. Anyways, she was never seen again. And Mary Vail was closed up because nobody knowed

It was kin to the old lady. But that's impossible. Well, I was notified early in January of her death. Who notified you, Governor? Well, the man you just spoke of, Dr. Hiley. You couldn't have been notified by him, Governor. Why not?

Because he died two days before Priscilla Longacre. But I have his letter. Oh, have you now, sir? Well, yes, of course. Outside in my car. He said he would meet me at Maryvale tonight. Then maybe you're going to see another ghost before the night is finished. Eh, Governor? Richard, please, let's go. Yes, dear, right away. I'll look here, innkeeper.

Is what you've been telling us the truth? Tell us it's the truth, Governor. Why would I be telling you things what ain't true, huh? Then there hasn't been anyone living in Maryvale for five years. And Dr. Hiley has been dead that long, too. That's the gospel truth, Governor. You'll see so for yourself when you get there. Well, that's where we're going. You say it's about 12 miles. About that, Governor.

He'll come to a fork just around the turn, up a ways. Tight the left one. The other goes to London. Right. Come along, Emily. Yes, dear.

If you need anything, my name is Jason. You can telephone here if you like. Just ask for the pig on the hammer. Yeah, all right. Thank you very much. I say, this wind's strong. Come up in the last few minutes. Richard. Yes, dear? Did you notice that man's hand? The right one? No, dear, I didn't. Why?

There were deep, angry burns on top of his forefinger in the middle room. Like burns a cigarette would make. Hmm. Place seems deserted. Thank heaven that wind stopped. Oh, Maryvale is in a small valley. Doesn't blow much here. Look at the windows on the house. All boarded up. And so is the door. Looks weird in the moonlight, doesn't it?

Richard, is there a hammer in the car? No, I don't think so. Why? Well, you'll need one if we're going to get inside the place. That's right. Those boards seem tightly nailed. There might be something in that shed. Where? Behind us. Oh, yeah, sure. Come on. Let's have a look. Look. It's not nailed up. What? The door's hanging open. Mm-hmm. Richard. Yes, dear? Richard?

We're not alone out here. What? I feel it. Someone's watching us. Maybe it's the cigarette-smoking ghost of the inn. Darling, I'm serious. I feel someone watching us. You know, if I were the uneasy type, you'd scare me half to death. I mean it. I'm frightened. Oh, come now, darling. I think we'd better go back to that town where we stopped for dinner. Nothing doing. I wouldn't brave that road again for anything.

Come on, here's the shed. Still got the matches I gave you? Yes, but let's don't go inside, please. Why not? I just don't want to. But we've got to find something to break away those boards from the door up at the house. Come on. I've got the candle. I wish I had a flashlight. Richard, don't. It's all right, dear.

How about a match? Oh, Richard. Come on, come on. Give me a match. Oh, all right. Here. Good. There should be an old length of pipe or something in here we can use. There we are. There. Candle lit. Will you hold it here while I look around? Richard. What's that? Hmm? Over there in the corner. Those black boxes.

Boxes? Oh. Richard, they're coffins. Coffins? Oh, nonsense. They are. They're painted solid black. Look, three little silver handles. You may be right. Three handles on this side, too. They are coffins, Richard. Yes. Yes, they are. New ones. What in the world are they doing out here? Let me have the candle. Look, aren't those silver inscription plates on the lids? It's what I want to look at.

Here now. There. Oh, Richard, I... I'm frightened. Good Lord. This plate says Richard Longacre. And the other one, Emily Longacre. Died May 15th, 1942. Well, that's today. Richard! The light. Emily, what happened? Oh, the wind blew out the candle. Richard. Richard.

Richard, is that you? What? Is that you moving about in here? No, I'm not moving. I thought it was you. Here, where are you? Richard! Let go! Let go of my hand! Emily, where are you? She's not here. She's gone. Candle. Must be on the floor here someplace. Has to be here someplace. Must have light. I see. Don't be a guy. Who's that?

Is that Richard Longacre? Yes. Thank heaven. Who are you? Quiet. Don't let him hear you talking. Who are you? Can you get a light going? Yes. I found the candle. See if I get a match. Yes, here. What? No one here. No one in the shed but myself. Door's closed now. Good Lord. Please.

The lid. The lid on that coffin. Moving. Something inside pushing it up. Slowly pushing the lid up. Pushing it up. Quiet. Take this confounding lid, will you? Well, don't stand there looking like a stupid country bumpkin. Take this lid so I can get out of this cursed casket. Who are you?

How did you get in there? Will you take this lid, you fool? Sure. All right. There. Now, help me out. Sure. Give me your hand. How long were you in that thing? Oh, you never know, Nenoy. Hours before you and your wife came into the shed. My wife? Where is she? I have a pretty good idea. Where is she? I'd rather imagine he's got her. He? He?

Who? Stuffy in that box. Who? Where is my wife? Where, you fool? He comes back and finds me here. Who are you? Tell me what you know. My name is Warren Hiley. Hiley? Yes. Dr. Hiley. The one who sent you the notice of your aunt's death. But he said you were dead. He? The innkeeper. Oh. Jason. Yes.

That was his name. Jason. I'd rather imagine he would tell you I'm dead. You see, he thinks he killed me. What? Yes. Five years ago, he lured me out here to attend to the occupant of Merivale, Priscilla Longacre. My aunt. Yes. I found the woman dying. Someone had attempted to murder her. Someone did. I couldn't save her life.

The innkeeper? Exactly. He attacked me, left me for dead. But I recovered. I hid the body of the dead woman. Found a place to hide myself. But why? Why what? Why did you hide out? Why didn't you return and accuse the innkeeper of murder? I had no proof. Besides, I was always devoted to Miss Longacre. I wanted to find that motive behind the crime.

I did not know it would take five years to do so. What was the motive? It's not a novel one. Jason wants to buy Maryvale... because somewhere on this property... are buried more than three tons of silver. Silver? Yes. It was brought to England from France during the Revolution.

Its owners were captured and executed. The silver finally became a legend. But now I have discovered it. Here? On this property? Indeed, yes. Would you like to see it? Now look here. I'm not interested in silver until I find my wife. Where is she? I... I think I can take you to her. Well, then suppose you get about doing it. You must be most careful.

Here. Hold the light over here. Sure. Here, help move this straw aside. Hey, careful of the flame. There. The trapdoor. Yes. Quiet now. Very quiet. I'm going to open it. All right. Careful now. Give me the light. You go first. All right. I'll follow. Careful. Careful at the bottom.

There's a quick-climbed pit just a few feet from the bottom of the ladder. There. Here. This way. This way. Climbed pits over there. What's that? Emily. It's my wife. Emily. Emily. Oh, Richard. Oh, darling. Are you all right? Yes, I...

I guess, uh, what happened? I don't know. Light went out and you disappeared. Who's that? Oh, Dr. Hiley, dear. The one who sent us the notice of Aunt Priscilla's death. Doctor, my wife. Pleasure, Mrs. Longacre. Where are we? This is a chamber beneath the old shin. I discovered it the day Priscilla was murdered...

Five years ago. I brought her here. Can you get up, Mrs. Longacre? Yes, I think so. Here, dear, I'll help you. I must have fallen down here. Will you come this way, please? Can you walk, darling? Yes, I'm all right. Over here, if you please. All right. Come here. Here. Under the heavy glass. Look. A body? Yes.

of an old woman. She was Priscilla Longacre. I've kept her here all these years until I could get the entire Longacre clan together. Now you are together. I waited for this day. Five years I've waited. Richard. Look here, Dr. Halley. Jason. Yes, doctor? Yes.

Jason. The innkeeper. Watch them closely, Jason. I'll watch them, Doctor. Richard. You, Dr. Hurley. You told me Jason wants to buy a Mary Vale. It's you who wants to buy it. You'll never repeat that to anyone, Mr. Longacre. Lies. Never think you told me nothing but lies.

You killed my aunt. It took me five years to locate her only living relative. You, Richard Longacre. And now that you are here, Maryvale will soon be mine. Oh, but you can't murder us. And no one will ever find either of you in the lime pit. Oh, no. No. Your coffins are prepared up above there. Tomorrow...

Tomorrow there will be a funeral, but your bodies will not be in the casket. Richard. Why did my pie now, doctor? Oh, yes, Jason. Of course. Here. You killed it. No such luck.

Well, they rendered him unconscious. He'll never regain consciousness. What are you going to do with him? The lion people don't short-circuit him. Oh, no. No. Get back. You'll join him soon enough. Oh, don't do that. Oh, wait. Stop. I'm turning for you before I go into that pit. And I threw you down here through the trap door up there. It was you up there.

Crawling into that coffin and pretending to hide was all a lot of sham to lure me down here. Now look here. I demand that you release us. You're in no position to demand anything. Your aunt is next and you will follow her. And I warn you, this gun I have is loaded. What are you going to do? The old lady goes a little bit next. No, Richard. Let her alone. Put that body down. Hey, Rick.

I'll shoot if you come nearer. Richard, don't. You've done enough, Eileen. Starak. Put her down. Now she's gone into the pit. Put her down, I say. Richard, come back. You devil. Richard, that woman.

Didn't you, doctor? No, no, no. Get out of here. You killed me after keeping me here all these years. Well, you didn't kill me, doctor. No, stop. Let me go. You didn't kill me. Help! Help! The bitch! The bitch! Help me! Help me! I have to see.

You have heard Funeral Arrangements Completed. Tonight's original tale of dark fantasy by Scott Bishop. Alph Daniels was heard as Richard Longacre. Eleanor Naylor Curran was Emily. Fred Wayne played Dr. Hiley. Georgiana Cook was the old woman. And Muir Height was Jason.

Next Friday at this time, one of the most unusual of all dark fantasy adventures. Created for you by Scott Bishop. Reaching. For pictures of the production, Dead Hands Reaching, and of the dramatic staffs of dark fantasy, as well as for vivid and exciting picturizations of next Friday's story, Dead Hands Reaching, we call your attention to the two-page story appearing in the magazine, Movie Radio Guide, dated tomorrow, May 16th.

And now this is Tom Paxton reminding you to buy United States war bonds and stamps. Dark Fantasy comes to you each Friday night from Oklahoma City. This is the National Broadcasting Company.

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Yes? That you, Doc? Yes, who is this? Karetsky. It worked? Of course it worked. I was standing outside. I saw you come out with him. I walked straight to the curtain. You know, Doc... Shut up, Smiler, and get off the phone. Now, look, Doc, I only rang to tell you that... Now, don't ring me again. I'll contact you. Doc! Hey, Doc! Ah, he's hung up. Nervy, that's what he is. Pays me to report on what he does just so that he can...

Ah, yeah. Maybe I'll get down to Joe's. The Sounds of Darkness. Lee Masters, FBI, who wages relentless war against crime. Lee Masters, the blind detective who challenges The Sounds of Darkness. The Sounds of Darkness.

Fire down below. Oh, hi, Lee. Hi, Sam. Johnny? No, not here yet, Lee. We had a call from Andrews, though. But no word from Johnny? Uh-uh, not yet. Make you some coffee? Please. On second thoughts, forget it. You're comfortable in the easy chair.

Don't make too much of a habit of it. Doesn't look good for callers. At which, I'll get out and make you that coffee. I don't want a reputation for taking it easy all the time. Okay. And get me Andrews, will you? Surely. Uh, you get anything from P.S. Savage, please? No, nothing. Uh-oh. I'll get you a headache pill, too. Why, am I in a bad temper? You sure are. Sorry.

Look, Sam, when you come into my office, tell me what Savage said in the evening paper, will you? Uh-huh. The one you're holding in your hand. It doesn't fit. Just doesn't fit. And Johnny... I'll leave, Masters. You wanted me, Lee? I wouldn't ring you if I didn't want you, Eric. Well, anything new? No, not a thing.

We had him. You know we had him. What happens? He gets away. The place is cased, everything. There's no one there. At least no killer. And what did the woman say, the witness? What could she say? The place was crowded. He got away. That's all there is to it. Did the manager give you a hard time? What do you think? Cops bust into his theater. On go the lights. The audience isn't amused. They have to sit there while she goes up and down the aisles trying to pick him out.

He's training the stewards, the manager. Well, you know how to counter that one, Eric. You had the exits covered? Of course we did. I don't think he was in that audience. Savage needs his nut read. Yeah, well, maybe. Okay, Eric, thanks. You getting off the case? No. You city cops haven't caught him yet. The FBI hasn't helped either. Look, you can tell your boss that we'll get him. We don't need help. The FBI, as such, isn't helping you, Eric.

I am. And you know why. Yeah, the spectator amuses you. The workings of the mind amuse me, Eric. Of a mad, twisted mind. And that's why I wanted in on this. Your coffee, Lee. Thanks. For what? For my coffee. No, don't let it worry you.

I'll call again. He in a bad temper, too? Put the coffee down and quit analyzing, Sam. Okay. Savage? Well, the usual. The entire police force of New York can't catch the arsonist, even when they have him surrounded in a city theater. Fire Police Chief Andrews, that sort of thing. And praise for himself for having seen the man. Yeah, yeah, I know.

He sounded off when I saw him this afternoon. You think they'll get him, Lee? I think we'll get him, Sam, before he strikes again. Got to. That school burned down. Oh, that was horrible. Yeah, those poor kids burnt to death. And we just sit and wait? No. The man must be mad. One, he's clever enough with it to act sane, look sane, and walk through a cordon of cops without being recognized. Two...

What's the third proposition? To give himself away? No. You know how I work, Sam. I look for the angles. One man or two. A cover. How else can he lie low for so long? Be kept in control by someone? You talk as though there were a mastermind behind the killer, Lee. Or a killer who isn't a killer but would like to be. Or admires the taking of life. Even that of a child. Uh...

You ever seen a burnt body, Sam? Oh. Well, don't. You go on home. I want to think. Well, I can stay, I'll leave. No, go on home, Sam. I'll wait for Johnny. Okay, thanks. I'll be at the apartment if you need me. Thanks. So long. It doesn't fit, but it does. I wonder. Maybe I'll go down and talk to Savage again.

Look, I'm not panning you, you know that. The jumping down Andrew's throat doesn't help him work. I know, I know, but he should be fired. He's too old for the job. No energy. I said that on my column. Yeah, I know what you said, but the whole city force is out looking for the arsonist.

Don't tell me every man on the beach is too old for the job. No energy. Luckily, I'm not getting at the average cop. Well, what are you getting at, then? The force as an entity. The lack of public protection. The lack of results.

Look, I see this guy going to the theater. From the witness's description, this is the killer. I phone Andrews. Twenty minutes later, twenty minutes, I tell you, the cops get there. Of course, the guy's gone when they arrive and hold up the show. What made him leave the theater, Peter? I must have known something was up. You think so? No. No?

He was by himself, you said. All about study once or study a dozen times, I'm not sure. I saw him in the queue outside, dropped the car, went back at the double, about any guy inside the theater. And no one but you recognized him? I have sharper eyes than most. Must be. Tell me.

Public reaction still strong? Like every mom and dad won't let the kids go to school. That's how tough it is. New York's never known anything like it, can't say. Blame them. It's about time you pulled something out of the bag totally. And if I don't, I get a penny from your column, huh? Oh, one day, yeah. What has to be won't be against you as such, of course. Just the FBI in general. Well, we've been knocked before, Peter, and we've taken it.

Come up with the goods as well. Lee. Oh, hello, Johnny. You know Peter Savage? We haven't met, but I've read your column. Oh, thanks, Bob. For nothing, I think it's thanks. Huh? Lee, I want to talk to you. I think I may have had something. What was that you said? I was talking to my boss, Lee Masters. Let's go for a drive, Lee. Interesting enough to make me leave behind the only martini Peter Savage has ever bought anyone. Now, look, you guys, I... I'm right with you, Johnny. Oh, thanks, Peter.

Happy writing. Now, look, Lee, if you're on to something, it's your duty as a public... Come on, Johnny. Car downstairs. THE END

Uh, paid off, maybe? Yeah, but there's a big maybe, Lee. I got back to the office about 6.30. Sat me down and did a bit of thinking and reckoned you were probably tangling with Savage again. And a call to the paper confirmed where he drinks. Uh-huh.

Okay, now tell me about Koretsky. Well, not much I can tell me. I was doing a bar crawl all day, as you know. Then I heard a whisper that Koretsky was suddenly in the money, like I told you. And doing a bit of big talking. Something about a guy who was clever enough to shield a wanted man, or something like that. Oh, Johnny, turn left soon. Smiler Koretsky's hangout is about here. How do you know? Simple. The time since we left Savage, the turns you've taken, stops...

Well, look. Well, am I right? Yeah, just about there. Yeah, Joe's place. I'll park the car. Yeah, I'm lucky again. A parking place right in front of Joe's. You want me to go in together, Lee? Yeah, yeah. Yeah, look, before we go in, this is a long shot. Let's go, Johnny. Let's go.

Well, what do you see, Johnny? I haven't seen correctly since you went inside the pen. Small, wizened, big nose, nervous hands, way in the corner of a bar. Hang on. Yeah, yeah, that could be him over there.

Is he, uh, with anyone? I don't think so. He's wearing glasses. He's well-dressed. Okay. Hello, Smarter. Dad, hi. Who's your friend on your right? Uh, Hicks, the name. Dr. Raymond Hicks. Why do you ask, Lee Masters?

You wanted to see me, huh? No, I wanted to see Smilak Koresky. Oh, is that his name? I've been drinking with him for half an hour and I had no idea who he was or what his name was. Oh, dear, maybe I'm not making contact anymore. Doc, maybe I'd better shove, huh? Well, I'll set you so. You guys know each other? What are you, cops or something? No, this is the first time we've met. I came into the bar for a drink and as usual I'd strike up an acquaintance with a local. You know, me.

written any more books, Doctor? No, but I have one of the offerings about the criminal mind, which is why I frequent the dives. I talk to people like Myla Koresky. Perhaps you'd better run along, Myla, if you're going somewhere, I mean, somewhere special. Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Well, yeah, be seen, yeah. Letting him walk on me? Why not, Johnny? Okay, hold on.

Interesting character there. An example of the subliminal mind. A mind not sharp enough to initiate crime, but certainly to follow it. To follow orders, regardless of the nature of the orders. Like a trained animal. But his reaction to an event is worth recording. Don't you think so, Lee? Depends on what event. Oh, yes. Yeah, of course it does.

But the analysis of a criminal mind is centered not only around such a mind itself, but it's working. Other minds are involved, too. Crime is wide-reaching. To commit a crime, there must be involvement with another person or persons. And the interaction of such involvement is interesting. Interesting enough for a book? Yeah. Well, if we're going to stand here doing nothing, let's at least have a drink, huh? In a moment, Johnny. Okay.

Tell me, Dr. Haight, how does an arsonist escape detection? How do I know? Oh, you're referring to the Leviston College killer. Yes, I am. Well, purely clinically, I see escape from detection as the easiest part of crime. It requires certain subtleties, perhaps use of the imagination, too. An ordinary criminal? No. An ordinary criminal has a subtlety, perhaps.

Now, if you'll excuse the gentleman, I must go. I have a dinner appointment. Be seeing you, Doc. Oh, remind me to give you a copy of my book when it comes out. It might help you in detecting criminals, I mean. Being sightless must be a handicap. No, it's an advantage. Without eyes, I can read. Funny as it sounds. Good night, you both.

Now, listen to me. What the... Patience, Johnny, patience. When he leaves, we'll follow. The End

Lee, Koretsky's the guy we should have followed, not this quack. Oh, you think so? You know where Koretsky went to, don't you? No, I don't know. Amazing how people can give themselves away. The very human desire to boast. Of course, he could have been meaning something else. Look, I know you have me consciously, but... I never have a hunch, Johnny. I deduce...

Sam and I were talking in the office about the arsonist, the killer. How he's escaped detection. Because he's clever. Or aided by someone who thinks he's clever. Now, wait a minute. I first met Dr. Haig two years ago. His books on criminology make good reading. He has an ego the size of the Empire State Building. He knows criminals. He knows the law. And he dallas with both of them.

He's still about 50 yards ahead. Well, he'll keep that distance. Why? Because he knows he's being followed. Huh? You were clever, Johnny, or lucky, I'm not sure which. Barroom gossip led you to Koresky. So did Dr. Hake. You don't think he's shooting the killer? Could be, Johnny. Johnny, where for the fun of it...

Would you hire to kill him? Oh, in a dungeon or something? Or an apartment? No, no. That would be too simple. Ever read Victor Hugo, Johnny? Who's he? Miss Pippa? Not quite. Les Miserables. Under the City. Oh, yeah, yeah, that one. But what are you getting at, Lee? I heard Haig mention sewers.

Okay, we're getting close to his home. Yeah, but... He's gone. Come on, Lee. Easy, Johnny. You know, one thing I've learned about crime is that the incredible is often the credible. One man goes into a theater. Two men walk out. Together. In conversation. Police ignore them. Lee, do you mind... An apartment. And a dungeon. Maybe...

Johnny, get Andrews on the phone. Get squat cars to Dr. Hicks' apartment. It'll be in the book. Then come back here fast with Andrews. After they've checked for sure he's not there. Where are you going, Lee? Walk around for me, Johnny. Just here. Walk around. Stamping your feet. Okay, but I... Hold it.

Panhole cover. Sew it. Yeah. Okay, Johnny. Lift it up for me. And go get Andrews, just in case Haker's doubled back to the apartment. You know, Lee, there are times when I don't quite know what's on your mind. Doctors, like scientists, often hold themselves to be human beings apart, immune from law.

Special beings allowed freedom of movement, denied an ordinary member of society. Or at least, a doctor like Raymond Haig, criminologist with a nutty record to boot. You going down there? Yeah, that's right, where I don't need eyes. Close it over me, Johnny. Okay? Yeah, close it. Lee, why don't you... Close it, Johnny, over my head. I guess I better be going to Andrews.

I hope he knows what he's doing. Now, walks along the edge for five minutes. I remember Hake's apartment is east. So... Dr. Hake, you're down here. I know you are.

Doctor, stop playing the fool. The arsonist is a killer. The law must take him. Stop shielding him. Dr. Haig, Police Chief Andrews will be coming this way shortly. Every exit from the sewer will be covered. The joke's gone on long enough. If you hand the arsonist over, I'll see you get a reduced sentence.

He must be further ahead, but a voice carries. He knows I'm behind him. Doctor, for once you've been too clever.

You gave yourself away. End it now. Interested in the criminal mind too, please. Yeah? Yeah.

You led me quite a way. Walking's good for the figure, they say. Especially in the sewer where it's hard to keep your feet. But this is interesting. The criminal confronted by the man that catches criminals in the subterranean passages of a city. Quit your jokes, Doctor. The fun is over. You think so? You know how my work when it's faced with death, please. I have my, um...

A protégé with me. He believes as I do that water carries burning gasoline. You prepared to start running, Lee? Now listen. Oh, I'll listen. As you run with the flames lapping about your feet. And then you'll flip. And I'll listen as you fall into the water and the flames. Or will you escape? Doctor, I can understand you're shielding the killer. Be

For you, it was fun. An experiment. But you're not a killer yourself. No, no, no. He is. And he's grateful to me for hiding him. Smiler Koresky told him to get down here, of course. Hand him over, Doctor. No, no. He's so grateful to me that he'll obey every command. The criminal mind again. Mastered by a better mind. Mind! You're mad. Am I? Nothing's wrong with me.

Say hello to the detective. I want to like the fire doctor. Now. Of course you do. And you shall. Oh, thanks. I won't come forward without you, Lee. Start going back and wait for the match of the gasoline.

Pour the gasoline on now, Dennis. Lee! Lee, where are you? Down here, Johnny. Hurry! Dennis, I'll pour another gasoline. Doctor, the water's running from me to you.

What do you say? The water's running from me to you. Come on, get out of this. The flame's dying. The smoke, we could... You have poetic justice for the arsonist. The doctor...

He won't be writing books where he's gone. Okay, let's get out. We can pick up nobody at the other end. You have been listening to The Sounds of Darkness. Join the world of Lee Masters, the blind detective, next Tuesday and every Tuesday night at 7.30 in The Sounds of Darkness.

The Sounds of Darkness is produced by Hedy van Beek. Deep Night. For three days, I've been sitting in this bar. In this back corner. In this back corner.

Most of the people in the bar have been there the first night I come in, after it happened. And here I am, three days later. I don't care. I just order another drink. It has been three days since what happened, but the thought of that still scares the hell out of me.

God knows how many bottles of rye later. I love winter. Don't you? On a moonless night, everything is so calm, so still, so deceptively dead. But all it takes is a slight breeze to stir fresh snow into dancing, spinning sprites for the trees to groan and crack.

And on a lake in Northern Ontario, all it takes is one particular set of footfalls on the icy surface to reveal a mystery thought forever immersed in the stone-cold depths below. It's no wonder nine-year-old Ryan is terrified of the water, refuses to go near it. Of course, in Ryan's case, there are a few more considerations than for the rest of us.

But fortunately, we all grow out of our childhood fears of the mysteries contained in darkness. Don't we? Tonight, Drew Hayden Taylor spins us a winter's tale called Ice Screams. Beware of thin ice. I live in the arms of the Lord.

I guess you could say that everything that happened three days ago started on that February morning, 16 years ago. I was 12 at the time. So was Erica, Ryan's sister. She was cute, in a 12-year-old kind of way, as perceived by a 12-year-old. The bus always takes longer the colder it is. They probably had to boost it again. Why? In a hurry to get to school? No, just cold. Where's Ryan?

Right there. Where's he going? Where do you think? Toronto with my parents. All the winter sales are happening and he gets to go with them. He gets to go shopping for two days. Oh, I hate him. Now, Erica, I told Julia you'd be staying with her for the next two nights. You behave while we're away. I still say it's not fair. I don't want to have this argument again. We'll see you in two days. That's what I told her.

He thinks he's so good. They like him better. No, they don't. Yeah, they do. My aunt says it's the way he was born. He was kind of difficult, I guess. He almost died. My mom spent weeks nursing him back to health, and ever since, she's been kind of protective. Hey, Andrew. Got anything to eat? Oh, yeah.

Hi, Erica. Hi, William. He always gets what he wants. He's the baby, she says. Well, if you baby someone all the time, then they'll be a baby all the time. Little scum. Yeah, I hate kids like that. Who were we talking about? Ryan. Ryan and his parents disappeared into the falling snow. We never saw them get on the ice road. After that, things got a little strange. Early the next morning...

local gossip and tobacco queen Mags Magne was walking by Ryan's house. She saw a light on when there should be no light. And you can't be a gossip queen without having a healthy sense of curiosity. Good morning. Good morning. I saw your lights out. Where's your car? Good morning. Hello. Anybody home?

Maureen? Fylla? Hello?

We're in. Oh, Christ. My heart. Ryan, what are you doing here? You just about scared me to death. Why is it so cold in here? Huh? Where's your parents? Ryan, where's your parents?

What's wrong with you? Look at me. Is that ice in your hair? Cold. Ryan, listen to me. Where are your parents? Oh, my God. Your arms. Freezing. What happened, Ryan? Tell me. Cold. You stay here, okay? I'm going to go use the phone. I'll be right back. Ryan, the back door is wide open. There's a trail of victims matching the boys' boots coming in from the general direction of the lake.

Why is it so cold in here? The furnace is off. How long has that boy been here alone? That looks like ice in his hair. It is, sir. We believe he's been here at least 24 hours. Has he said anything? No, sir. Just cold. I think that's his sister arriving now. Well, let her in. Maybe she can talk to him. And let's go see where those footprints lead.

Ryan? Ryan, what happened to you? Where's Mom and Dad? Where are they? Tell me, Ryan, please. Tell me what happened. Cold. What do you mean, cold? Where's Mom? Where's Dad? Tell me where they are. My God, it's colder than a Christian's heart out here. Right there, sir.

The car must have gotten lost in the falling snow, went off the ice road and drove in this direction. Too close to the channel where the ice is thinner because of the current. Thinner? But just how thin is this ice? Oh, it's thick enough for us, but not for a 2,000 pound car. I think that's where it went through the ice. The boy's tracks start just over there, and overnight, the ice froze over again. Let's get back. Yeah. He's one lucky little boy to have gotten through this. Yeah, especially with Maureen for a mother. I know so.

And I figured there was no way she'd ever let him go. Ryan, he was in bad shape. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't do nothing. They even brought in one of them, a psychiatrist. But it was like talking to a disconnected telephone.

Now my mother, who had a theory about practically everything, thought she knew how to reconnect that broken telephone. Only dogs can talk to dogs and only kids can talk to kids. What the heck does that mean? It means you and William are going to visit Ryan at the hospital today. We're going to the movies this afternoon.

After you go to the hospital. I don't want to go to the hospital. I'm pretty sure William doesn't. The hospital is between here and the movies. No hospital, no movie. I hate your mother. I don't want to come here. I want to go to the movies, and I would never have come. Mom says we gotta, and she's driving. I don't even like him. At least you like him. Shut up. 413. There's his room. I guess we just go in, huh?

There he is. He looks weird. How's he supposed to look? Wow, he looks so skinny. And cold. Hey Ryan, how you doing? Ryan, it's Andrew and William. Yeah, hi. Let me try. Let's go. Movie starts in half an hour. Come on. Look at his face. I don't know what he's thinking about. What do you think, William? I don't know. The Flintstones? Come on, let's go. He looks cold.

Not anymore. It was Ryan. If it were possible for two 12-year-olds to have heart attacks, that was the time. I'm in a hospital? Yeah. My parents are dead, aren't they? I'm hungry. I got some gum. That's all I got. Thanks. So, what's new? Ryan, are you okay? How come you haven't talked in a week? I don't know. I just kept on seeing Mom and Dad in the car, going through the ice. And pretty soon, I don't want to see that anymore.

So I went to sleep. But you were awake. Didn't feel like it. Then I heard your voices, like in school. And I remember I have a test in math. Mom always liked me doing good in math. That was three days ago. I guess I failed, huh? That's when his whole body started to shake. The sobs rolled out of him, gradually getting louder and louder till they filled the room. It looked almost painful. We'd seen crying before, but this wasn't ordinary.

We bolted for the door, grabbed the first nurse we saw and pointed her in Ryan's direction, then got the hell out of there. Needless to say, we didn't enjoy the movie much. We'd seen enough scary things for the day. The next day at school, Erica made a beeline for me on my way in. Andrew! Andrew! I heard you visited my brother yesterday. Yeah, we had a major up-eye. Thanks. He's talking now. You're crying. Yeah, but the doctors say that's good.

What did you say to him? Nothing really, just said hello and talked about how cold he was, that's all. Well, whatever you did, thank you. Now don't go telling everybody I kissed you on the cheek. That's just for you. Um, um, uh, yeah. Could you do me another favor? Um, oh, uh, yeah, yeah, what? Come with me out on the lake. I want to put some flowers on the spot where they were.

I was so mad at them when they left. I'll feel better if I say goodbye. Please come with me. There was no way I was going out on that ice ever in my lifetime, let alone within six days of what happened. Not for any reason or any girl. Sure, when? Tomorrow, after school. She kissed me again and was off. Ryan's doing good. Doctors say he can come home in a few days. I saw him last night. He misses me and the family. He won't talk about mom and pop.

The doctors say not to force them. Yeah. How much further? The glare from the packed snow made me squint. The constant wind had packed the snow quite well. It was almost like walking on solid sand. Erica led the way, a good two feet in front of me. I couldn't help but think that if my family knew I was out here, I might as well go through the ice. Suddenly, Erica stopped. We had been walking about 20 minutes and came to a place where it was obvious a lot of people had been standing around.

Cigarette butts littered the area as well as the odd pee stain. The police had been here. And there in the center of everything was a re-frozen, jagged blot in the lake. Somewhere beneath us, a hundred feet or more, was a Ford with two overweight Indians in it. And they would probably be there forever. I guess this is it. Do you think the ice is safe? Her foot gingerly tested the new ice.

But by then it had frozen solid enough to support the weight of a 12-year-old girl. She walked to the center of the ice car and kneeled. She put the roses down, gently. Goodbye, Mom. Pop, I'll remember you. I think she was crying, but I couldn't see because of her coat hood. In the coldness of the lake, I was. Thanks, Andrew. This meant a lot to me. Even out on that frigid lake, I felt a little warmer. I know you didn't want to come, but you did.

I knew nobody else would come with me. Or they'd try and talk me out of it. Thank you so much. Wow, another kiss. Are you crying? I know. I know. I don't know why, but... That's when I hugged her. I don't know why, but it just felt like she wanted to hold on to something. Add on that barren lake, I guess I was the only thing. After that, we quietly went home. Ryan came home a few days later.

looking more somber than ever. They had managed to put some weight on him, but he still looked small. That was 16 years ago. The mundane existence of everyday reserve life began to reassert itself. There was even a big party for him on his 11th birthday. Their Aunt Julia has a cabin over on one of the islands, and they were going to spend the weekend out there. But once Ryan got in the boat, it became quite obvious that he had changed his mind.

Six feet from shore, he spoke up. I changed my mind. I don't want to go. We'll be across the lake in 20 minutes. No, I don't want to stay here. Ryan, it's all right. No, just sit down. I don't want to go. Ryan, no, don't, Ryan! Luckily, the water was only about four feet deep. I'd never seen Ryan swim, canoe, fish, or do anything water-related until three days ago.

He'll get over it. Don't worry, he'll just take some time. We hung out together until we were about 17. And then the time came for me to go off to college. I finally came home for good four years ago. I now work for the band office. Winter came around again, and I was back staying at my mother's when Erica called. Hey. Oh, Andrew? Erica? I mean... Hi, Andrew. Um...

I hate calling you like this out of the blue, but I need your help. You sound serious. What's up? Well, it's anniversary time. Yeah, I thought it was around this time of year. I hear you still go out on the ice with them flowers of yours. Not this year. I'm pregnant, Andrew, and, uh, well, the doctor says I could deliver any time, so he and Richard won't allow me to go out on the ice this year. I felt a chill I hadn't felt in a very long time.

It was a cold feeling. Why me? You've got more cousins and relatives than you know what to do with. I don't want to sound rude or anything, but why me? Oh, because he trusts you. You're the one who brought Ryan out of whatever it was he was in, remember? Back in the hospital, and you went out with me that first time. Please, Andrew, it has to be you. Promise me you'll do this. I was silent for a moment.

Those feelings from so long ago came rushing back to the pit of my stomach. Yeah. Okay. I'll go. Oh, yes. Thank you so much, Andrew. You are one super guy. I so appreciate this. I was committed. With little chance of any kisses this time. I had promised I would go, but I wouldn't go with Ryan alone. I immediately phoned up my buddy. My pal.

William. Are you insane? I don't even like the guy. It's your promise. You deal with it. You know, William, three months ago, that hockey tournament in North Bay, me, you, and those two women from Perry Island. What about them? Do you think maybe Angela would be interested in hearing about that? You bastard, you wouldn't. I'll tell Marie. Yeah, well, I wasn't going out with Marie at the time. Well, better put on your wool socks. It gets cold out there. I'll pick you up tomorrow.

We arrived at Ryan's house, and it had changed little since what happened happened. Ryan was already sitting on the porch, a bouquet of half-frozen flowers on his lap. He looked like he didn't want to do this any more than we did, but in his heart he knew he had to. It was necessary, like going to the dentist. Hey, Ryan. Ready to go? Hop in. I got a better idea. Let's cut to the woods behind the house. We'll be quicker than driving around the lake. Come on. What is this?

Isn't that the same path he took way back when he crawled out of that car? This is getting eerie. You owe me big, Andrew. Look, I'm turning the light. It's over here. Follow me. You owe me big. After grabbing the flowers, Ryan started walking towards the woods beside the house. I'm pushing. You're falling behind. Speed up. Do you want to walk in front, huh? Behind your buddy? He's going to part the ice like an Indian with Moses. Just walk faster. Okay.

This was the first time he'd come this close to the lake, winter or summer, in all these years. He stopped walking just short of the ice. He looked out across a frozen expanse. It's been so long. I wasn't sure if I'd remember where it was. Erica sort of gave me directions. A little off to the right of the willow, she said. It's that way, I guess. Oh, Angela, where are you? My arms are so warm and it's so cold out here.

February on our reserve can make you very romantic. For God's sake, Ryan, slow down! This sweat is freezing. What's the hurry? Sorry. Just lost in thought. It's all coming back to me. It's all so familiar. Except it's not snowing this time. Give it time. The shoreline was slowly drifting off behind us, and we were squinting now from the glare of the snow. Do you have any idea where we're going? You two didn't have to come with me, you know. I could have handled this myself.

Your sister asked me to come as a favor. You know I can never say no to Erica. I almost wish she hadn't come, Andrew. You make it more real. I remember the two of you at the hospital. And the crying. It's like I'm ten years old again. You know, I always told people I couldn't really remember what happened that day when they died.

Actually, I could remember, but I never wanted to talk about it. At the time, I thought it was nobody's business. Not even Erica. She wasn't there. She didn't see anything. Now I think maybe I should have. We were approaching the channel. A couple hundred feet to the left was the other shore. The ice would still be quite safe, but it was like looking over the edge of a tall building. You knew you were safe, but... Sitting in the back of the car, the window was open.

There was snow everywhere. Honey, close that window. You'll catch yourself a death of a cold. Mom, can I keep it down please? I'm afraid of getting carsick. If you start feeling sick, then you can open it. Until then, you should... The car just launched, and I was thrown to the floor. I felt wet and very cold. I climbed in the back seat.

I saw the water pouring in my open window. I don't know if it was instinct or what, but I jumped through that window so fast. I was small then, so the broken ice could hold me up. I crawled across the broken ice to the solid stuff. It was so cold. So damn cold. But it soon went away. I actually felt numb.

and a weird sort of warmth after a while. All the time, I could hear Mom and Dad behind me. They were trying to open their doors, but because of the water pressure, doors wouldn't open. You don't have to tell us this. Really, you don't. I remember sitting on the ice, crying. The water was up to the windows, and there were bubbles everywhere. It looked like it was boiling. Mom rolled down her window and tried to crawl through, but she was kind of big. She couldn't fit through. I've never seen her try so hard at anything.

Then she reached for me, like she wanted me to pull her out. And then he pulled me in with her. I don't know. It was then that the car went under the water. There were some bubbles. Then her purse floated to the surface. Right about here, I think. I just sat there for the longest time. I was nine years old. I didn't really know what was going on. I was scared. I was cold. After that, it gets kind of blurry. I guess that's why you've never been out on the lake since? Yes.

They're still out here, you know. Somewhere below us. They never found the bodies. Can we get on with this, please? I think I'm coming down with a cold. Yeah, sorry. Let's get this over with. Ryan walked ahead a bit, then kneeled down in place of flowers, quietly on the ice. I remember him stroking the flowers like he was afraid to leave them. You know, since the accident, I've always been afraid of being out here. But Jesus, I'm 26 years old.

Yep. Mm-hmm. Jeez!

It all happened so quickly. There was a sharp, cracking noise. Ryan looked down, and then like bread in a toaster, he slid straight down into the water, the ice buckling around the edge of the hole. Get it, man! He's gone! He's under the ice somewhere! I instinctively raced for the hole where he'd been standing, but William tackled me, wrestling me to the ground. I tried to crawl to the hole, but he wouldn't let me. Give me your belt!

William grabbed my arm and turned me towards home. We slowly headed back to the shore. William took one last look over his shoulder.

I believe we've just been. On the way back to shore, it started to snow. That was three long days ago. The police went out with divers but never found anything. I never thought they would. The community went into mourning and the funeral was today. Even drunk, I found it mildly amusing them burying a body they never found. From what I've heard, William hasn't come out of his house in the last few days. Won't take any calls either.

And so here I sit, waiting for the waitress so I can order another drink. I keep seeing Ryan disappearing into the ice over and over again. I don't think this phase will last long, because I'm really a terrible alcoholic. But it will hopefully last till I have new thoughts to think and new memories. Anyways...

This last call. I manage to flag down the waitress as she passes. She nods at me, knowing exactly what I want. Yeah, yeah, I know. Double rye and coke. No ice.

The End

Ice Screams was written by Drew Hayden Taylor. Peter Kelly Goudreau was Andrew. Emile Starlight was William. And James Dallas Smith was Ryan. Clifford Cardinal was young Andrew. Michael DiCenzo, young William. Dennis Fuller was young Ryan. And Anique Abonsawan was young Erica. Lawrence Bain and Herbie Barnes were officers Kim and Tom. Gail Maurice was Mags. Jannie Lozon was Ryan's mom. And Michelle St. John was older Erica.

The recording engineer was Greg DeCloot, with sound effects by Wayne Richards and Matt Wilcott. Casting was by Linda Grierson. The associate producer was Colleen Woods. Original music was by Michael White. Ice Screams was produced and directed by Gregory J. Sinclair. I live in the arms of...

Lights out for the devil and Mr. O. It is later than you think.

Turn out your lights now. We bring you stories of the supernatural and the supernormal, dramatizing the fantasies and the mysteries of the unknown. We tell you this frankly so that if you wish to avoid the excitement and tension of these imaginative plays, we urge you calmly but sincerely to turn off your radio now.

This is Mr. O. Archobler. Some call it the root of all evil and some call it the flower of all good. Ordinary people call it money, gelt, mizuma, or what have you. That's what our story is about today. Money, $3,000 worth. We begin after a short pause. And now, if you haven't already done so...

Turn off your lights now and listen to $3,000. $3,000.

Money, I tell you, Tony, that's what's wrong with the world today. Money. What are you talking about? Say, look, Tony, ain't that the pretty boat? Oh, the devil with the boat. What do you say about money? Why, you said that money, what was wrong with the world? The people get little money and then they want more of it. And then they get that and then they want more. And pretty soon, that's all they think about is money, money, money. Yeah. Yeah.

What do you think about? Money. So what are you talking about? Oh, you don't understand, Tony. You don't understand yourself. All the time you talk. Go away. Let me alone. No, no, Tony. Don't get sore. I was only talking. What you talk don't make no sense. Money is what's wrong with the world.

You fool, you crazy man. No, I ain't crazy. All the time on the boat coming here to Frisco from New York, I'm thinking to myself, I'm thinking, Axel, for 13 years you're a sailor, working all the time. And what you got? Nothing. So I say to myself...

Axel, why can't it be that when a man works hard, he can have what he wants no matter if he ain't got money or not? Now, you crazy fool, what are you talking about? It's a dough that gets a guy what he wants. Sure, sure, that's the way things are now. But I tell you it ain't right. A man who works hard with his hands can't have what he wants to have. Yeah? What do you want to have, eh?

A farm, Tony. A little farm. What do you say? Yeah, a little stock farm someplace. Some nice place like Wisconsin or maybe Minnesota. I say something funny, maybe. Farm? By golly, that's funny. No, it's not funny. For 13 years I've worked on the ship.

I save my money for farm. I don't like the money. I just want the farm for my wife and my kids, and then... Yeah, I know. Then the 31 at bank, she's a go bust, and you back away your start there. And I tell you, Tony, it ain't right. I work so hard. No, no, I tell you, you dumb squarehead.

All this talk about kick the money out and give a man what he work for. I tell you, that's a bunk. Yeah, but Tony... Money. Money, that's what a man need. All the money he can get is a Mitchon. And Danny's got the world right by the neck. But I work so hard. So what?

ain't work what make a man rich. It's a break. Yeah, a break. Me, I'm best deep water diver in the whole Pacific. So what? I never get a break, so I'm still eating slop and walking the docks. Yeah, Tooney, that's what I say. All right, move on, move on. No bumming around the docks. Oh, yeah, yeah, officer. We go, we go. That

What's that? What's that you said? No, no, officer. He don't say nothing. This is Mr. Tony, officer. He's the best deep water diver in the whole Pacific. Yeah? Well, if he said what I think he did, he's gonna do all of his diving in the can for about 30 days. Now get out of town or I'll run you in. I'd cut his heart out. Oh, no, no, no, Tony, please. Come this way. Come on, Tony, in here. We'll get a cup of coffee. That cop was shoving me around. Come on in. I pay. Ah.

It's...

There.

Ten cents, please. Yeah. Coffee is good when you're cold, huh? Yeah. That guy was winning. He don't drink coffee tonight, I bet you. What guy? The guy was winning the sweeping stakes. The sailor sweeping stakes. You know, hear it? Swenson, what is this guy blowing about? I'm telling you. The sailor sweeping stakes. Everybody's buying a ticket. $3,000 first prize, you bet you.

It's in the papers he's winning. Oh, lucky guy. So, who cares? Give me some more coffee. Okay, okay. No, no, no, no, no. Wait a minute, mister. Here. This fellow, what one? You say his name is in the paper? Yeah, yeah, sure. Here. I got it here. Get my coffee, you. No, no. Wait, Tony. I want to hear. Read it, mister. Okay. It's a winner. First prize is somebody who gave name of a farmer.

What's the matter, you swans? I... Tony, quick. Hey, that's my paper. Tony, come on. Quick, come on. Hey, you crazy square-haired, wait for me. Wait. Wait, you crazy fool, you. What's the matter? Where you go, huh? Tony, Tony, listen. Tony.

It's me, me. Me what? What do you say? Farmer. That's the name I give the man when I buy the ticket. Huh? I'm rich, Tony. I can get the farm. You?

You mean you, what he's selling there, you? Yeah, yeah, me, Tony, me. I buy sweepstakes tickets long time ago. I win, me, I win. You crazy, you crazy in the head. No, no, I tell you, I win. Look. Farmer, that's me, Tony.

Oh, my wife and my kids, they'd be so happy, so happy. No, no, no, wait. In the right. I mean, look, give me the number here. Ticket number 6933. You got that number? I got it here. I got it, too. Let me see, huh? No, no, please. 13 years. What's the matter? You ain't gonna hurt her. I just want to see. Look. 6933.

Three? Three? Just like it's in the paper. You? You did win? Yeah, Tony, I win. Me? Oh, my Anna. Three thousand dollars. Oh, we wait so long. Three thousand dollars. I quit the sea. I buy a farm. Oh, Tony. My Helga, my kids and me, we're the happiest people in the whole world. Three thousand dollars. I buy the best farm in all Minnesota.

Come on, Tony. I go get my money. No, no, no. Wait. Don't go now. It's a pretty late. But my money... Oh, but they're going to be close. Yeah. Now you come on. We go down on the dock and see what is the first boat. Oh, sure, sure. So right away tomorrow. Quick. When you get to the door for the ticket, you catch a boat home to the wife and the kids. That'd be good, eh? Yeah, yeah, yeah, Tony. Yeah. And who is that policeman?

I wish you'd meet him now, eh, Tony? What's the matter? Why you want cop, huh? Oh, I show him we ain't no bums anymore. $3,000 this ticket is worth. By Jiminy, a man is no bum with $3,000. Oh, you're right there. You bet your life you ain't.

Ah, the water, she look pretty. Yeah. She's a deep bride here. Ah, me, I don't care how deep the water is so long as I'm on top. Thirteen years a sailor and I can't swim. Ah, the water, she's so dark and pretty. Ooh.

Swanson. Yeah? Let me look at ticket. Ticket? Swipestakes. By the minute, you think maybe she ain't good, Tony. Yeah. I know she's good. Right the way I hear that fella say the farmer in, I know that's me.

Here, Tony, here it is. See, it says farmer on it. That's me, see? Well, lean over just a little. I cannot quite see. Yeah, sure. You see numbers. It says six, nine... Tony, Tony, you... Tony, you're what?

My knife will shut you up good, eh, Swenson? So, you're gonna swim, eh, squarehead? Well, Tony is gonna give you a first to last. There. Oh, Swenson, wait. You forgot the sweepstakes ticket. Hmm? Okay, I collect for you, farmer. $3,000.

Yeah. At last, Tony, she's got a break. We leave our The Devil and Mr. O's story of $3,000 for a message. And now back to our story of $3,000. $3,000.

You go home and let me go upstairs, eh? And maybe tomorrow night we'll go have some more fun, eh?

Tony's a great guy now, eh? Sure, sure, I'm a great guy. Everybody knows Tony's a great guy. The stairs. Tony, is that you? What's the matter? You waiting for somebody else?

Oh, Tony, I've been waiting for you. Let me help you. Go away. I don't need no help, not me. Oh, Tony, Tony, night after night. Go away. Take your hand off of me. Great guy, that's me. Spending all your money on three drunken fools. Shut up your mouth. Oh, careful. I told you I don't need no help from nobody. Tony is a tech, what do you want?

Shut the door. Yes. Now, come here and give a great guy a kiss. No. Come here, you. No, no. Tony, listen. Don't want to listen to nothing. But, Tony, the man... Man? What man? The man that was here. He's been here a dozen times since midnight looking for you. Midnight? Who was he? What did he want? Well, he acted so funny. What do you mean, funny? Well, he spoke so funny. It...

As if what? As if... As if his mouth was full of water. You... You try to make a joke of Tonya. No, no, no. I'm not fooling. Really, I'm not. He said... Did he say something? Yes. That's what I'm trying to tell you. He said... Tell him...

Well, what? What did he say? Well, I... I could hardly understand him. He talked so funny, but... I think he said... Tell him... Tell him I was here, and then I think he said the farmer. No. The... The farmer? Yes, that was he. Oh.

Oh, Tony. Tony, what's the matter? What? What'd he look like? What's the matter, Tony? What'd he look like? Well, he was tall and he looked like a sailor. And I think his clothes were wet. Oh, Tony. That's him again. That's the way he knocked before. No. Tony, don't stand there staring at the door like that. You're scaring me. Don't do it.

You out there, go away. You dead. What? Dead, you hear me, dead. I killed you six months ago today. Tony. I throw you in the water a thousand miles from here, you dead. Tony, Tony, no. You scare my wife, but you don't scare me, you farmer. I'll kill you again. No, Tony, no, don't you scare me. Tony, don't. Connie. Connie.

Connie, I don't want to shoot you. I want to shoot him through the door. Connie, get up. Connie. Open up. Open up in there. Open up. I don't know what to tell you. It was him, Connie. Him. Come on. Open up, police officers. Open up in there. You. You, Swenson. You. You think you got me, eh? You think you got me in the hot seat, eh? No, no. Not me, Swenson. You swear. You. You forget the fire escape. Swenson.

Listen to me, Cap. You've got to help me. You've got to. Take it easy, Tony. Take it easy. You... You want to get me out, eh? So far out, there ain't a copper in the world can get you. Listen, at midnight tonight, my ship is pulling out to go down through the canal. Then over the coast of Ireland to go hunting for gold. Gold? You crazy... Watch your tongue. I said gold and gold it is. When they were going under the sea for it. What? You heard me. Under the sea.

A million dollars in gold and the hold of the Tanya, sunk by a sub. The boys are going down there to dive for it. Dive? Yeah. And if you decorate the mahogany in front of me with every cent you got in your pocket, you'll be on board my ship. Ah. You hear that, Swenson? You're diving for gold. A million dollars. And me, I'm going to be on board. Ah.

Shut that door, you fool. You want to talk to me, Cap? Yeah, Tony, sit down. Ah, this is getting pretty rough, eh, Cap? Yeah, and that's what I want to talk to you about. Well, I'm listening. While you were sleeping before, the rest of the divers had a meeting. Yeah? Yeah. They looked over the weather reports, and they decided they ain't going to do no more diving. A white-bellied... Wait a minute, Cap.

You mean we're going to turn back? What else can I do? Three months out here in the open sea, and when we finally do locate the wreck, every mother's son of them turns chicken on me. So what's the matter? You want to talk to me? Because even if you are no good rat, you're the best diver of the lot. All right, keep talking. Tony, listen. Under that buoy off the starboard is the Tanya, with a million dollars in gold bullionette. So? Go down and get your hooks in it, and whatever you get happens yours. What?

You mean, you mean a half? Sure, you get half, and I'll split the other half of the crew. A million bucks. Yeah, a million bucks. And you'll have half of it. You can do it, Tony. You know you can. Yeah, but the sea, she's getting rougher. Ah, Tony, you've got them down in rougher water. Yeah, but that water, she's a cold half an hour, and I'm finished. Hey, at the room with the gold.

Who knows where she is? Tony, listen. I know just where that gold is stored. You're not trying to fool me, eh? As God is my judge, I'm telling you the truth. Jake located the room on his last dive yesterday. He told only me about it. So? Don't you see, Tony? Chance of a lifetime. I got enough coal for one more day out here. We turn back, we'll never locate that wreck again with a sea of running issues.

Half a million dollars in gold for you. It's only right under your feet. Don't be a fool, man. Take a chance and go down and try to get it. Well, will you do it? Yeah, I'll get away from him. Him? Who are you talking about? Who's talking to you? Well, what are you sitting there for? Get me a rig. Get the pumps going.

Ready, Tony? Yeah. Give me the headset. Here you are. Well, what are you standing there for? The helmet? Give me the helmet. Okay, okay. Cap? Yeah? What's the matter with you? I told you to keep the deck clear. Only the men I want. The rest get below or I don't die. All right, Tony. You men get below. Every white-bellied one of you. Come on. All right. Hold up the helmet. I want to try out the phone. Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?

Well, answer me. Okay, Tony, I hear you, okay. All right. Well... Okay, I'm ready. Put the helmet on me. Okay. Well, hurry up, you mugs. Get them bolts tight. You think I got all day? That's it, Tony. Okay, okay. Put me over to the side and watch that pump rack come up and cut your heart out. Shh.

Shh.

Half a million dollars. Half a million dollars. Me, water cold. Down, down. Half a million dollars. All right, Johnny. Sure, sure, I'm all right. Let me alone. Okay. Down, down. Water hard. It came to me. Johnny, best diver. 50-50. Half a million. Half a million. Listen.

Listen up there. I'm on the bottom, you hear me? Tony, listen. Captain says hurry up. Squad coming up. Tell the captain if he's taking me up before I give signal, I'll cut his heart out. Right, Tony. Shut up and let me alone. Come on.

Me. Tony, half a million. Captain says Gordo's inside door, A-back. Half a million. The door of the captain says. Me and the cop, 50-50. 50-50.

What did he say, Art? He says to leave him alone. He don't want to talk to nobody. That's no good, Rat. I was a fool sending him down. He's in the bottom, all right. But what's he doing? Has he found the gold? Has he found the strong room? How long is he going to stay down? Talk to him, Art. Tell him he's got to answer. He's got to. He's got to.

Captain said it would be right over Santa Lucia the gold. A room full of gold. I'm rich. All the money in the world. Me, Tony, I'm rich. I'm rich. You have all the money you want, eh, Tony? Huh? Who? Who's it talking? Huh?

Answer me, who's a-talkin'? What's wrong, Tony? Anything wrong? You up there, I told you I don't want to talk. What's the matter you don't listen to me? What do you mean, all the money I want? What do you say that for, huh? I didn't say that, Tony. I've been standin' by. Standin' by? How will I get up there? I assure you, standin' by. Wait till I get the headset connection with my teeth. I'll fix it so you don't bother me no more. No, no, wait, Tony. The captain's in there. So, now, talk all you want, you sow-faced me. I won't hear you.

Me, I'll be alone with my gold. No, no, Tony. Not alone. You up there, stop talking to me. Stop, you hear? Stop. I am down here, Tony, with you. Huh? Oh.

Who said that? A broken connection. Nobody can talk to me. Nobody, you hear? Nobody can talk to me. I will talk to you, Tony. So much to talk to you. It's in my head. That's what it is in my head. Not in your head. Look. Look straight ahead. What are you talking...

Schwenzen! You know me, Tony. And me in the water almost in here. Oh, no, no, no! Close to the window in your helmet. You don't like what you see, eh, Tony?

My wife, my children, they wouldn't like it either. Would they, Tony? Go away. Go away. Go away. No. Oh, don't be in a hurry, Tony. We got plenty time. No, no. Plenty. I worked for 13 years. Tony.

Go ahead. You remember, Tony? Thirteen years for farm. No, sir. Go ahead. Now I don't work no more. Go ahead. I just wait for you. You. My heir. My heir. You take me, my wife, my kids, my life.

Now I take a little air. Eh, Tony? Just a little air. Now I take off your helmet and come in with you, Tony. No, no. My friend, I come in. No, no.

He's still yelling. Call him in, quick.

How about decompression? No, no, no. Put him in the bank. We'll get him up here. Something must be wrong. Yelling bloody murder through the phone and signaling okay on the lifeline. Hurry up, you men. Get him up. Come on. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up. Get him up

Captain, look. His airline. It's been chewed through by teeth. Chewed through by teeth? But... But what is it? What's tied to the lifeline where he was? It's... Mother in heaven. It's a bar of gold. It's a bar of gold.

This is Mr. O. Archoviller. You know, every time I see one of those Jacques Cousteau underwater television extravaganzas, I always hope that they'll really dredge up something interesting out of the sea, like the barnacle-encrusted skeleton of a toothy pirate.

or a bar of gold with your name on it. But let's talk about our next play. Do you enjoy auctions? I know I do. Particularly the kind where you buy a pig and a poke. You know, packages, boxes, old trunks. Let's discuss that further after your station talks to you.

This is Mr. Owey again. Next week, a little old man goes to an auction with rather fantastic results. He buys that pig and a poke, only there's neither a pig nor a poke in the package. There's a, well, that is to say... All right, I will say it. That's next time, when you hear all about that amazing purchase at the auction. Title, The Chest. The Chest

It later than you think. The Diary of Fate. Fate plays no favorites. It could happen to you.

Book 97, page 302. Yes, here it is. The name Nelson Walker. Occupation undetermined. Yes, Nelson, you are a drifter. You have held a dozen different positions. You've never been able to settle down. And now as the ledger of your life lies open before me, I, fate, look ahead to a single instant of horror.

Okay, okay, never mind that. Where's the money? Here, in this envelope. Oh, thank you, Nelson. Nelson, let me go! Nelson! I'll never let you go! No! No, truly, you'll never tell! Never! In the life of Nelson Walker, a decision for evil was made. Then I, fate, intervened.

Because of a little thing, a torn paper bag, Nelson Walker will die. But take heed, you who listen, for I, fate, am not unjust, not unmindful of mortal rights. In a moment, I will read again from The Diary of Fate. The Diary of Fate

In a moment, we will learn how little things changed the life of Nelson Walker. But first, here's a word from our sponsor. In the life of Nelson Walker, a murder was committed. But in the last analysis, it was the little seemingly insignificant things that yielded the final outcome. For you see...

Little things are the tools with which I work. Remember, Nelson Walker, how it all started? You were in the taxi cab on your way to the airport to catch a plane for Honolulu and a job that was waiting for you.

Can't you go any faster, driver? Afraid not, mister. I'm pushing the limit now. But I've only got ten minutes to get to the airport. I'll miss my plane. I'm sorry. I'm doing the best I can. Hey, what are you doing? Why are you stopping? Did you see that signal? There's a train coming. Oh, come on. Step on it. Run through it. You've got time. Not me, brother. But I'm going to miss my plane, you fool. Run it. Ain't that too bad about your plane, fella? I ain't risking my neck for nobody, so forget it. Hey!

Yes, Nelson, it was a little thing. A two-minute delay at a railroad crossing. And yet, unknown to you, those moments were critical in your life. When you finally arrived at the airport, you learned that your flight had already left. You went to the ticket desk, expecting more trouble, and you asked for a new reservation. Then I faint intervened.

Well, I'll check the other flights, Mr. Walker, but I can't promise anything. You'll learn. Excuse me a minute, sir. Reservations, Miss Carlton? Yes. Cancellation? Flight 21? Yes. Yes, all right. Thank you. Well, Mr. Walker, you're really in luck. That call was a last-minute cancellation. I can give you a seat now on the plane leaving for Honolulu in an hour.

Yes, Nelson. I, Faith, arranged a last-minute cancellation. And now you had a seat on Flight 21. You checked your luggage, bought a newspaper, and strode into the airport restaurant where you sat down and ordered coffee. As you waited, a man's voice drifted to you from a nearby booth.

Now don't you worry, Mr. Blair. No one knows any better than I do that $75,000 is a lot of money. But then I tell you, Mr. Blair, it's a long time. You can count on Rick. I'll deliver your check, pick up the stuff, and be back here in three days to save some time. The words you heard angered you, Nelson. A man named Rick, $75,000 so casually discussed made you feel small and cheap.

You left the restaurant without glancing at the men in the booth. And when your flight was announced, you got aboard. A slight well-dressed man sat next to you. And soon the big plane soared from the field and headed west. The man next to you sighed and settled back.

Yes, sir. Another few hours, we'll be in Honolulu. Yeah, they say it's quite a place. I guess so. Don't know anyone there myself, but I've heard it's very nice. Oh, you've never been there either? No, this is my first trip out this way.

I'm looking forward to seeing the islands. Well, I wish I felt the same way. I'm going to see plenty of them before I'm done. I'll be stuck on the outlying islands for a year or more. Well, no temptation out there. Good chance to collect a nice steak, though. Yeah, a small one. Well, enough so that you can take advantage of an opportunity when it comes along. That's right.

Do you have your own business now? Not yet, but I will soon. I'm going into the air express business. There's a field with a future. Air express? Yes. Moving things fast and smooth by air. With the loads modern planes can carry, there's no limit to it. Cargo planes these days are flying boxcars and no worry about refrigeration either. The freight compartments aren't sealed or heated, you know.

You can take a load of fruit, for instance, and... Oh, there I go. Get me started on Air Express, and I'll talk your leg off. Oh, no, no, it's very interesting. But what business are you in now? Oh, well, you might call me a sort of glorified delivery boy.

By the way, my name is Gage. I'm Walker, Nelson Walker. Glad to know you, Nelson. My first name is Enrico. Enrico? Yes, but of course my friends have shortened that. I'm called Rick. Yes, Nelson. Because of a moment's delay at a railroad crossing and an unexpected ticket cancellation...

You now sat next to a man with $75,000. The man you had overheard in the airport restroom. You looked at him closely and tried to remember all that you had overheard. But then, another little thing happened. Say, Nelson, how about some gin rummy to pass the time? Suits me if it's not too steep. No need for it to be. Say, a quart of a cent a pint. Okay.

Oh, by the way, there's plenty of room over here beside me. You want to move your briefcase? Briefcase? No. No, it's all right here beside me. All right. Want me to keep score? Fine. Let's see. I've got an old piece of paper here someplace. Yes, this will do. Hey, you dropped a card there. A calling card. Here, I'll get a brick. Yes, Nelson. It was another little thing. A calling card had dropped.

As you went over to pick it up, the engraving met your eye. The Royal Palm Jewelers. And penciled on it were the words, Contact Everett Ralston. Now, Nelson, you learned more about Rick. He was a courier, and in his briefcase was a check for $75,000, for which he was to receive a fortune in jewelry.

With this in mind, you found it very difficult to concentrate on the game of cards you played.

Well, Nelson, that's three games in a row for me. I guess that's about enough cards, isn't it? I think I'd better get some sleep. Yeah, me too. I can forget the sound of those motors. Oh, that's a lullaby to me. Yes, sir, when I get my air express business rolling, my whole life is going to be tied up with airplane motors. Well, see you in Honolulu. Yes, Nelson. Hmm?

Tomorrow you would be in Honolulu with nothing more than just another job to look forward to. Yet in the adjacent seat was a man who held a fortune in his hand. You were impatient when the island of Oahu came into view. A few minutes later, a warning light blinked on and it was time to fasten your safety belt for the landing.

Well, we're practically there, and I'm glad of it. Hey, aren't you going to fasten your belt, Rick? Me? No. I always have, but nothing ever has happened. These modern planes land smoother than you can park a car. You watch now. See? Nothing to it.

Yeah, but... Hey, we're not slowing down. Something's wrong. It's not stopping. We're overshooting the field. The brakes, they're not holding. Gates, we're gonna crash. That hangar, we're going to hit it. For a terrifying instant, Nelson, your mind was staggered by the awful impact. Then, as a torrent of noise and confusion burst over you...

You saw that your newly found friend, Enrico Gage, was dead. This time he had not fastened his safety belt. Almost without realizing what you were doing, you reached for his briefcase. Then you took his wallet

and scrambled for the door. All right, all right. We'll get you all out as soon as we can. Now, look, those of you who can walk, those of you who can walk, give me your name to check against the pasture list. Now, what is your name, sir? Me? Yes. My name? Uh, I...

I'm Enrico Gage. Gage? That dead man in there was riding next to me. His name is Walker. Nelson Walker. Yes, Nelson. In the tragic confusion of an airplane crash, you made a decision. A choice for evil. Then, at that moment, the end for you was certain.

Soon, Nelson, I will write again on your page in The Diary of Faith. The end for Nelson Walker is certain. Certain as fate. But before we continue our story, here's a word from our announcer. Yes, Nelson Walker.

Your decision was a desperate one. You drove to the hotel Enrico Gage had mentioned, claimed his reservation, and then, alone in your room, opened his briefcase. The $75,000 check was certified and made out to the Royal Palm Jewelers. At that moment, the telephone rang. It was Everett Ralston, the name penciled on the calling card Gage had dropped.

I heard about the plane accident this morning, Mr. Gates. I do hope you're all right. Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I'm ready for business. Then I can expect you this afternoon. Yes, Mr. Ralston. I'll be in your office at, say, 3 o'clock? 3 o'clock. Fine. I'll see you then. Here are the purrs. 32 of them. Each one a perfect gem. Now, you have the check? Yes, of course. Here you are. $75,000. Thank you, Ralph.

It certainly is a pleasure too. Do business with the man you represent. Never any dickering over price, never any red tape. It's all over in a matter of minutes. I imagine that suits you too, Mr. Gage? Yes, Mr. Ralston, it does. The faster things move, the better I like it. Yes, Nelson. Every instant of your impersonation was a moment of danger. After you left Ralston's office, you made a reservation under an assumed name.

on a plane leaving for Australia that night. Then you walked back to your hotel, the case of pearls safe in your pocket. It was then, Nelson, that I faith again intervened, and another little thing happened. As a woman in front of you, carrying a large package, opened the door of her car, the paper bag ripped, and a number of parcels fell to the ground.

Oh, that's stupid. Oh, here, let me help you. Thank you. That stupid clerk gave me a torn... Why, Nelson! Nelson Walker! Truly masters. Hey, this is a surprise. I had no idea you were out this way. What are you doing here? Oh, going with rich men, you might say, but tell me, when did you get in? Just this morning. I came by... I came by ship. Luxury liner. Yeah, and believe me, this beats shivering in San Francisco. Oh?

This your first trip to Honolulu? Yeah. Yeah, it is. But I'm afraid I won't see much of the place either. I have to leave tonight. Oh, that's too bad. In that case, I suppose I'll have to be the aggressor. Aggressor? What do you mean? You're taking me to dinner tonight, Nelson. Why, sure. All right, I'd love that. We'll have cocktails at the Terrace Club first. The Terrace Club's my favorite spot. We'll have a lot to talk about, Nelson. All right.

And now you've heard the lives and loves of Trudy Masters. Any comments, Nelson? Only one. You haven't changed a bit, Trudy. If you mean I still like luxury and still know a good thing when I see it, you're right. But now how about that dinner? Oh, constructive thought. I'm famished. Give me a moment to make with the lipstick and I'll be right back. All right, but hurry, will you? Well, well, Mr. Gage, hello again. Oh, hello.

Hello, Mr. Ralston. How are you? Fine, just fine. Join me in a drink? No, no, thank you. I'm with someone and we're just about to leave. I see. Perhaps another time, Mr. Gates. Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention it this afternoon at the office, but I'd like you to come out to my place on Saturday. Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Ralston, but you see, I'm leaving tonight. Oh, too bad.

Well, any time you're back this way, please drop in and... Why, Trudy Masters. Hello, Everett. You know Trudy? Why, yes, we're old friends, aren't we, my dear? Yes, we are. By the way, Everett, how's your new bride? Bride? Oh, yes, it's my wife. She's fine, fine, thank you. Well, I have to be running. Goodbye, Mr. Gates. Goodbye, Mr. Olsen.

Mr. Gage? Why did he call you that? I have no idea. With another little thing, Nelson, Mr. Ralston also favored the Terrace Club. Now you fully realize that the sooner you were away from Honolulu, the better off you would be. You hurried through dinner with Trudy, and then an hour later, alone in your hotel room,

You smoked innumerable cigarettes, and you waited impatiently for the time to pass. Hello? Hello, Nelson. This is Trudy. Trudy, I'm... Surprised? Surprised that I asked for Mr. Gage's romance, got you?

Well, uh, yes. But I can explain that. You see, it's a business deal. I see. But, Judy, I thought you were going home. I was, but frankly enough, my curiosity got the best of me. I had to find out a few things first. You see, I've been checking on you. Me? Me? Where? Right here. The airport. The airport?

Yes. You see, Nelson, I knew you were lying this afternoon when I first met you. What do you mean? Lying about what? Driving by ship. Luxury liners from the mainland only come in once a week, on Wednesday. This is Monday night. So what? Well, I checked the airlines, particularly the flight that crashed this morning, and I found out that an old friend of ours was killed. A man named Nelson Walker. Nelson Walker.

For a moment, Nelson, you were stunned. Trudy Masters knew that you were impersonating Enrico Gay and that you had had business with Everett Ralston, a dealer in pearls. Your first impulse was to flee, but then you realized that, like you, Trudy Masters was interested in only one thing: money. You arranged to meet her near a darkened hangar at the airport.

And you promised her $10,000 in exchange for silence. $10,000, which you did not have. Good evening, Mr. Gage. Where are you? Over here. Well, you bring the money? Yeah. Are you alone? Of course. What did you expect?

I don't know. I'm not used to dealing with blackmailers. Never mind that. Where's the money? Here in the central office. Oh, thank you, Nelson. Nelson, let me go. Nelson! I'll never let you go. What is it? What is it? Who's there? Now, Trudy, you'll never tell. Never? Hey, you in there. Hey, hey, stop. What are you... Good Lord. Yes, Nelson Walker. Now you have murdered...

Yet as you ran blindly through the night, your thoughts were only of escape. But the pilot who had heard Cooney's last cries spread the alarm. You saw others join in the chase for you. You glenned the rear of a busy freight hangar and crouched for a moment behind a pile of boxes. Then suddenly the two words, "Air Express," stenciled on a large green crate in front of you, gave you an idea, a way out.

You thought briefly of Enrico Gage. Yes, sir. Moving things fast and smooth by air is the only way to do it. My cargo planes these days are just like flying boxcars. Can't repeat, I tell you. It was your only chance, Nelson, and you took it. The large green crate contained a shipment of linen. You emptied half the contents, and then realizing it would be cold in the air,

You wrapped yourself in the remaining cloth. An hour later, the crate with you inside was strapped securely in the unsealed freight compartment of a plane. And as the four-motored machine roared into the night, you were safe. Now, Nelson, you still had your furrows, and you still had your life. But soon, aye, fate will write again.

Soon I will record your final entry in the Diary of Faith. Before the final entry in this chapter of the Diary of Faith, here is a word from our sponsor. Yes, Nelson Walker, as you huddled safely in a box in the cold, unsealed freight compartment of the giant plane, you were content.

For each hour saw you farther away from Honolulu, for you had choked a woman to death. You were not aware that each moment also carried you closer to the center of a heavy storm that thundered over the vast Pacific. Yes, soon even the plane's pilot became concerned with the tempest that raged around them.

It's getting worse, Burt. We'll never get through. We better start climbing. Right, Skipper. Certainly looks rough ahead, doesn't it? I don't imagine we'll... Hey, hey, what is it, Skipper? What's wrong? Number four engine. It doesn't respond at all. It's going dead, Burt. Huh. That's a pretty thought. If we can't climb without it, what are you going to do, turn back? Oh, that won't help. The storm's all around us now. Burt, listen. Get back to the freight and start heaving it out. We got to gain altitude. All right, we're all right. I'll start it out and you stay west.

Come on, baby. Be good to Daddy. There go the first one, Skipper. There go the first one. Any change now? A little. Keep it going. Okay. Hold tight. Okay. Here goes. Here goes another one. Be half empty soon, Skipper. Skipper?

How are we doing now? Still too heavy. Sick. Wow. This large green baby might do the trick. Ain't to do it, but... Bud? Bud, we're okay now. Number four's kicked in again. Must have been the fuel line. Oh, good. Glad to hear that. Say, that last crate was giving me a tough time anyway. Woo-hoo!

Well, here we go, son. Up and out of this mess. Right. Upstairs it is. Man, this certainly is a lulu. Afraid we'll have to climb all the way. Might clear it at 20,000 feet. Well, 20 or 30,000, it's all the same with one of these. You know, Skipper, they're mighty handy gadgets to have along. Oxygen mask? Yeah, man, they're all right for a guy who doesn't like choking to death. All right.

Yes, even as Nelson Walker choked the breath of life from Trudy Masters, so did the means of his escape stifle him first into unconsciousness, then to ultimate death. And now with the flame tearing the lifeless body of a man who chose evil, drones through the night, it is time to close the book. In the case of Nelson Walker...

As in the cases of all men, I, faith, am but the instrument of a plan. And the countless little things are the tools with which I work. Because of a delay at a railroad crossing, a last-minute ticket cancellation, and a dropped calling card, Nelson Walker reached the crossroad of decision. He took the path of evil, and then because of a torn paper bag,

Nelson Walker met pretty masters, and eventually, justice. Ponder well, Lamar, you who have listened, and remember, there is a page for you in the Diary of Fate.

The cast of the Nelson Walker entry included Gloria Blondell, Herbert Lytton, Patrick McGeehan, Jack Edwards Jr., Ray Erlenborn, Vern Surrey, and Hal Sawyer. Diary of Fate is a Larry Finley transcription. Brought to you from Hollywood. Transcribed on stage tonight, Dimension X. Another in the Wheaties big parade of exciting half-hour presentations. It's National Wheaties Week.

And here's the forecast for tomorrow morning. Bright and cheerful with occasional smiles followed by a good morning all morning long. You think I'm kidding? No, sir, you can have a better morning around your house tomorrow if you start it off with a good breakfast, including, I hope, a bowl of Wheaties with milk and fruit. Nourishment? Say, Wheaties have it to give. To you, right here in National Wheaties Week, there's a whole kernel of wheat in every Wheaties flake.

Talk about vitamins and minerals and protein. They're yours in Wheaties. All you have to do is get them, those Wheaties, at your nearest store. Get them and try them once this week. For me. For you. Try them once and see for yourself how Wheaties at 7 can help at 11. Ready? Let's go. It's National Wheaties Week. Whistle.

Now, tonight's adventure into the unknown world of the future. The world of Dimension X, where anything can happen. You are Mr. Sid Ryan? The same. My name is Lucia. I'm a Martian. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lu...

What was that again? A Martian. A Martian, huh? As in Orson Welles? Precisely. I'm a Rotarian myself. Sit down. Thank you. And now that we've had our little joke, Mr. Luchar... what can publicity associates do for you? It has been my observation that advertising and publicity... are the very backbone of earthly civilization. Spoken like a true Martian, Mr. Luchar...

Now, if you'll tell me the name of the client. The client, of course, will be the Martians. You don't give up, do you? Give up? The gag, I mean. Oliver. Oh, yes, Mr. Ryan? This is Mr. Lushar. How do you do, Mr. Lushar? Mr. Lushar claims to be a Martian. Take him outside, will you, Oliver? Get the name of the sanatorium he escaped from and tell them to bring the butterfly net. Waiter. I'm happy to see, Mr. Ryan, that my telling you I am a Martian has approximately the effect I supposed it would have.

I believe we can do business. I have here the cash retainer for $5,000. $5,000? Sit down, Mr. Lucia. Oliver, get the client a cigar. Yes, sir. No, no, no, the other box, the other box. Thank you. Well...

Now, what can I do for you, sir? I wish you to manage a publicity campaign. A very large, a very important campaign. Is the product established or is it something brand new? Oh, something quite new.

Now, what would you judge to be the most effective type of campaign? Well, if the client has a lot of dough to throw around, a suspense campaign is best. First, you place ads in the paper saying, watch this space. Then, about a week later, you run an ad saying, X, Y, Z, a PDQ, and you get people guessing what it means. Then, finally, when you've teased them enough, you bust loose and unveil the product. Excellent.

Very well, sir. We shall conduct a suspense campaign. Of course, in this kind of campaign, secrecy is very important. Once the name of the product leaks out, it spreads like wildfire and the whole campaign is kerfloppo. Kerfloppo. Yes, quite so, quite so. Utmost secrecy. That's right. You realize, of course, these things cost like crazy. Would, say, one million dollars cover the expense? Yes.

Come again? I said, would one million dollars coverage? Yes, I imagine. You did say one million dollars. I understood that you had handled some very large accounts. Of course, if this is too big... Oh, not at all, not at all. As a matter of fact, I seldom touch anything less. Right, Oliver? Huh? Oh, oh, oh, of course, that's right, Mr. Ryan, absolutely right. Good.

You will begin then by saturating the newspapers, the radio, streetcars with a very simple statement. What's that? I shall write it for you. The Martians are coming.

Say, that's not a bad teaser. Got that, Oliver? Yes, sir. The next ad will read, June 1st is Martian Day. June 1st is Martian Day. What happens on June 1st? The parade takes place. What parade? I wish you to arrange a parade up Fifth Avenue. You mean like the Macy Parade? Exactly. Except that the theme will be the world of tomorrow. The Martian World.

My client would like it to be a gay affair. Balloons, clowns, pennants, pretty drum majorettes. Say, that sounds terrific. I might be able to interest the department stores in a tie-in. The parade will climax the campaign. On June 1st, the product will be unveiled. Good enough. By the way, Mr. Lucia, just what is the product? What are we selling?

Oh, no, Mr. Ryan. Secrecy, remember. Oh, but I don't... All will be revealed to you in good time, Mr. Ryan. For the moment, let us say we are selling a concept. A concept? Precisely. The concept of invasion from Mars. Mars.

Benny Marcus, please. This is Benny. Benny, this is Sid Ryan over at Publicity Associates. Listen, Benny, how you fix for midgets? I got midgets. Fine. I need 40 midgets for a parade. 40. June 1st. And listen, Benny, I want them dressed in little space suits. You know, like men from Mars. Okay? Midgets. And I want some movie extras, maybe 50 of them. Also rigged up like men from Mars. Make them look gruesome. Got that?

Also, I need some horses with pretty girls on top of them. Maybe you can get that bunch from Moroni's Traveling Circus, the ones we booked for the fireman's parade in Albany last year. I'll try, sir. And never mind the expense. Just get me the talent, okay? I

I, uh, I gotta hang up now. Call me back, Benny. How you doing, Oliver? Oh, fine, Mr. Ryan, just fine. We got full-page ads in all the dailies and ten-second spot announcements on every local station. It's costing a fortune. The more it costs, the bigger our percentage. Spend like you are going to the electric chair, Oliver. Yes, sir. Uh, how you making out on the parade? If it comes off, it'll be the biggest thing since Barnum invented the midget. I've got maces, gimbals, and sacks to contribute floats.

Everything is built around the Martian theme, see? Even the horses will have long feelers attached to them and funny-looking extra legs. It'll be sensational. Oh, yeah, yeah, it sounds fine, only... Only what?

Oh, Mr. Ryan, we don't even know what we're selling. Oliver, my boy, do you think old Sid Ryan has been sitting here spending all this moolah and not putting two and two together? You mean you know who Lucia represents? Just by accident, understand? I have learned that Century Pictures is making a big new epic. A space opera entitled Invasion from Mars. Get it?

Oh, I begin to see. Also, by mere coincidence, it happens to be the premiere sometime around June 1st. Do you follow me? But, Mr. Ryan, Century has an exclusive contract with New Features Syndicate for all their publicity. Suppose Century Pictures doesn't like the way New Features is handling their stuff. They want to get out of the contract, but New Features says no. So they have to get around the contract.

A man named Lucia, a client unknown, starts publicizing the Martian invasion. Need I go further? Oh, I get it, Mr. Ryan. Gee, I suppose I should have thought of that. No, Oliver, that's what I like about you. You're so innocent. Let me talk to Commissioner Patrick, please. Sid Ryan.

Hello? Amish? Sid Ryan? Oh, it's you. Well, what is it this time? If you want to drop a man off the Empire State Building into a teacup full of water, the answer is no. Also, we are not arresting any fan dancers.

You know I don't handle fan dances. I want a permit for a parade, June 1st, Fifth Avenue. It's a Sunday. There's no traffic. Oh, come now. Look, Ryan. Macy's gets a permit. Gimble's gets a permit. The American Legion gets a permit. The Sons of Errand march every time Morton Downey sings the word of the green. Don't give me a hard time, Patrick. This is too big. Come on.

I have the Fifth Avenue Merchants Association behind me. Okay, Ryan. Fill out the forms. I'll pass them along to the license commissioner. That's my boy. Oh, by the way, what's the occasion? Oh, don't you read the papers, Patrick? June 1st is Martian Day. Martian Day

Well, Mr. Ryan, how is the campaign going? Like fire, Mr. Lushar, like fire. Everybody and his brother is going along with the gang. Yesterday we distributed 50,000 Martian hats to school kids. I even arranged for Commissioner Patrick to accept a $50,000 check for the policeman's benevolent fund from the man from Mars.

Excellent. I, um, I understand Century Pictures spent over a million bucks making that space opera? I beg your pardon? Oh, come, come, Mr. Lucia. Sid Ryan wasn't born yesterday, you know. I know who our client is, even if you don't admit it. You do? Always thinking that's me. Well, as long as you know, let's keep it to ourselves, shall we, Mr. Ryan? As you once remarked, when these things leak out,

It destroys the surprise and ruins the effectiveness of the campaign. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ron Heilerman speaking to you from our portable transmitter atop the reviewing stand for the much-heralded Martian parade on Fifth Avenue. It's a beautiful sunlit day here in New York.

Perfect day for a parade. And the streets are packed with thousands of spectators, all eager to find out what this is all about. There's an air of shrill expectancy. Come on, over here! Okay, tell them all right. I just had word from Saul Brown up at Central Park Mall that the Martians have landed from Big Pink Balloons.

And while we're waiting here for the arrival of the parade, we brought some people up to our microphone to tell you their reactions to this spectacular affair. What's your name, madam? Miss Ada Shackley. A little louder, please. Miss Ada Shackley. And where are you from, Mrs. Shackley? Columbus, Ohio. I see. Mama. I see you have your family with you. Two little curly-headed boys. Hey, mama.

Are you in New York for your vacation? Yeah, we came for the Shriners' convention with their daddy. Well, what do you think of Martian Day, Mrs. Shackley? Well, it all seems very strange to me, but the boys have been pestering me to watch it, so we've been standing here for two hours. I can't make head or tail of it. Well, neither can a lot of other people, Mrs. Shackley, but judging by the thousands here already, there's a lot of curiosity. Curiosity killed a cat, folks say. Let's hope not. Thank you, Mrs. Shackley. And now here's the...

Here they come, ladies and gentlemen. The first units of the big Martian parade swinging down Fifth Avenue. Fanfare, colored streamers, music, confetti, floats, all the trashies of a Mardi Gras. Let's listen to the band for a minute. ♪

Here in Vanguard, the whole group of little midgets in weird-looking pink and blue spacesuits carrying Rube Goldberg weapons with signs painted on them. I can read one which says, Atomic Blaster. Another has a placard reading, We're marching through Georgia. And here come the clowns, laughing and falling all over each other. They're giving free sugar candy to the kids along the way.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, there's a happy, laughing crowd along Fifth Avenue today. A true reflection of a great sense of humor and good nature that makes America the place it is. Why only... What's this? The crowd's murmuring now. They've fallen somewhat silent. There's something coming. I'll try to get it for you. What? Oh, ladies and gentlemen, here comes the Martian Contenders. This is promised as the climax of the show. Now a great hush has fallen over the crowd.

It's quite a sight to see these thousands of people standing here expectantly, hearing only the great regular sigh of their mass breathing. Now here they come, ladies and gentlemen. The Martians, marching in booted, helmeted ranks, row after row. This is an impressive sight, ladies and gentlemen.

In a rather serious contrast to the rest of the joyous slapstick parade we've been witnessing up in Mao, there are perhaps 200 tall broad-chested men dressed in metallic grey spacesuits with thick glass visors drawn across their faces. Each one's holding an ominous looking ray gun at the ready position and marching in absolute silence, keeping step perfectly as though some unspoken command were marking time for them.

Even children are awed by the unexpected warlike realism of the Martian legion. And now the first ranks of the Martians move past us, down Fifth Avenue toward the reviewing stands at the square. No one moves. A woman, a woman, ladies and gentlemen, just dashed out into the street. For what reason, I don't know. She just slipped through the police cordon somehow...

They're after her now. But she's already reached the ranks of the marchers and she's trying to lift the visor of one of the Martian space suits. Wait, wait. She's fallen. She screamed and then fell forward in a dead faint. The Martian column keeps right on coming. Unless they break ranks, they're going to trample her. No, no, no. The policemen have got her now. They're dragging her away. Out of the way. Trying to revive her now. What's that? All sorts of rumors have begun filtering back through the crowd. Some are even whispering that the woman's dead.

We don't know yet, but whatever's happened, the incident seems to have cast a slight shadow over the mood of the crowd. Carefree holiday air seems to have vanished, the crowd stirring uneasily. A little disturbed at what we've just seen. Nothing to be alarmed at, however. It just seems a shame that anything like this should happen to spoil our enjoyment of the Martian parade. The mansion acts will continue in just a moment.

Mr. Ryan, did you see that? A woman fainted. She ran out into the street to get a close look at the Martians. Then she screamed and fainted dead away. I'm well aware of that, Oliver, since I paid her 50 bucks to do it. What? The dramatic moment, Oliver. The stock and trade of the good publicity man. Relax. Holy smokes, you sure think of everything. For my share of this deal, roughly $100,000, I can afford to think of everything.

Shut the window. Okay, but don't you want to see the finish? We'll get down to the reviewing stand for the finish. Right now, I want to make a phone call. By the way, where's Lucia? I haven't seen her. Well, close the window, Oliver. Well, I... Okay, Mr. Ryan. Ta-da. Ta-da.

Marcus Tower Agency. Benny, this is Sid Ryan. Oh, I say, listen, Sid, I was going to call you. I'm awful sorry about those Martians. What do you mean, sorry? They're terrific. No, don't joke, Sid. I mean it. Oh, I mean it, too. They're great, great. Are you in a bag? Never felt better. You mean it, don't you? Of course I mean it. What is this?

There are Martians in the parade? About 150. Of course, I only ordered 50, but under the circumstances... Sid! What is it? Sid, don't you know I couldn't get you a single movie extra? There's a studio strike in New York. Wait a minute. Where'd these guys come from if you didn't hire them? I don't know. Hold on. Oliver? Oh, yes, Mr. Ryan? Did you hire those Martians? Well, no, sir, I didn't. Benny, this is on the level, isn't it? Honest, Sid, I... Okay, Benny, I'll call you back. What's the matter, Mr. Ryan? I don't know.

Just don't know. Wonderful, Adam. What's Century Pictures' number? Tremaine 4-1000. Tremaine 4-1000. Century Pictures, the studio of the stars. Give me Marty Sanford, your publicity director. One moment, please. Sanford. Marty, this is Sid Ryan. Oh, hello, Sid. How's it going? Fine, fine. Listen, Marty, this is dead serious. On the level. Get it? What's wrong? I've got to locate Lucia.

Lou who? Lou Shaw. Come on now, Marty. This is life and death. The guy you sent over to hire me for the invasion picture. Heard of a guy named Lou Shaw? What invasion picture? Invasion from Mars, the space opera. Are you batty? Marty. That picture was shelled last month. What? The big shots decided you can't sell a Martian invasion to the American public. It's too incredible, Sid. It really happened. Mother in heaven. What is it, Mr. Ryan? You look terrible. It's too fantastic. Fantastic?

Mr. Ryan, is something wrong? Open that window. I want another look at those Martians. Look at them. Oliver, you were in the army. Could 150 movie extras learn to march like that in, say, 24 hours? No. Not in 24 days, Mr. Ryan. Not a second's hesitation. Not one other step. Look at the way they carry those ray guns at the ready.

The only other time I've seen troops march like that was a film of the Nazi SS troops marching through the streets of Paris. Mr. Ryan. Oliver, get down there. Find that woman who painted. Her name's Gloria Montez. Get her up here. Make it fast.

Here she is, Mr. Ryan. I can't get much sense out of her. Stay away from me. Okay, Gloria. You can cut out the act and relax. It's me, Sid Ryan. Gloria, settle down. Baby, it's me, Sid. It's awful. It's all been greenlit.

I feel like a catfish. Baby, snap out of it. Listen, what happened down there? You ran out and screamed like I told you, but the fainting, that wasn't in the act. Go away, please. Go away. Just one question, baby. Inside that helmet, what did you see? I don't get anything out of her, Mr. Ryan. She needs a doctor. Okay, Oliver. I've heard enough anyway. You take care of Gloria. Get her a drink. Where are you going? To see the commissioner. We've got to stop this parade before things begin to happen. I'm sorry.

Okay, Ryan, what's the beef? Listen, Patrick, I don't know what it is, see, but something's wrong. You've got to stop that parade. I suppose you'd like the riot squad. That would get you a front page spread on every paper in town. Now look, Ryan, I

I've got no time for your cheap publicity gags. I'm a busy man. Listen, I'm trying to tell you I don't know where those Martians came from, who they are, anything about them. Oh, Ryan, I'm wise to your tricks. Now, if you let the sergeant show you out... You won't do it, huh? An honest citizen appeals for protection and you refuse? I most emphatically do. Now, beat it. All right, Patrick. I'll go right to the mayor's office. I'll have you busted flatter than the fried egg. Go ahead. I'm sure his honor will be glad to toss you out on that phony nickel-plated skull of yours. Oh!

You heard me, Ryan. You can't see the man. Adolph, please. This isn't a gag. I don't want publicity. All I want to do is maybe prevent something horrible from happening. In case you don't know it, wise guy, something horrible is already happening. A couple of hundred little kids are in the hospital with humane poisoning from that phony Martian candy you passed out. What? Why didn't you know? I... I didn't...

We've got to stop that parade. Sure, you'd like nothing better than to start a panic now. Maybe a few hundred people get trampled to death. Think of the newspaper space. That'd get you and your phony brother. I won't stand for this, Adolf. This may be a matter of life and death. Get out of here quick. It'll be your death. Go on, beat it. Get out. You and your publicity stunts. Make me sick to my stomach. The End

Oliver? Oliver! Oliver, where are you? Oliver, I... Oliver! Oliver! It is useless to scream at him, Mr. Ryan. Your friend is quite dead. Lucia! He wanted to run to the police with some story about a Martian invasion. I found it necessary...

To restrain him. Restrain him, you stinking murderer! Now, now, Mr. Ryan, collect yourself. After all, our planning, it wouldn't do to have everything spoiled now, would it? Lucia, start talking and talk fast, because when you get through, I'm going to take you apart piece by piece. What's this all about? Surely you know, Mr. Ryan. After all, you've been publicizing it for months.

You see, before colonizing your planet, the Martian government sent some of us as scouts in advance, disguised as Earthmen, of course, to study your habits, your weaknesses. We found that the people on Earth are predominantly conditioned by advertising and publicity. And so we conceived the idea of treating our entire invasion as a vast publicity stunt. Clever, yes?

After all, Mr. Ryan, who would suspect an invader who advertised his invasion in the newspaper, invited the public to his surprise attack, and spent millions publicizing his plans? Holy jumping... You've done very well, you see. Then there was no product. Ah, but there is a product. The product is death. What are you trying, Luthor? We Martians are a humane people, Mr. Ryan. We do not like to destroy thousands where a few hundred will suffice.

In exactly two minutes, our troops will treat the world to a spectacle of death, which will bring the rest of your planet to its knees in horror. Nations will clamor to surrender. Perhaps, Mr. Lucia, but not if I can help it. Yes, please? Operator, this is Mr. Ryan. Get me the field telephone on the reviewing stand of the Martian Day Parade. Hurry. Anyone in particular? Just hurry. Hurry.

Doesn't matter.

Nothing matters now. Tonight, Dimension X has transcribed The Parade, an original radio drama written by George Lefferts. Featured in the cast were Joseph Curtin as Ryan, Barry Kroger as Lushar, and Alexander Scurvy as Ron Heilman. Your narrator was Norman Rose. Music by Albert Berman. Engineer, Bill Chambers. Dimension X is produced by Van Woodward and directed by Edward King.

In a moment, we'll tell you about next week's show. And now, here is your Wheaties man, Frank Martin. Listen next week when we present the Robert Heimline story, The Roads Must Roll. Another adventure into the world of tomorrow. The world of Dimension X.

Mr. Shabbat! Mr. Shabbat! Miss Copeland, how did you get here? I don't know. Something knocked me out. But, Mr. Shabbat, when I came to, there was a man standing beside me in the moonlight. He was the most unearthly thing he had. Oh, I can barely say it. Yes? He had a thousand heads!

Here comes Monk Mayfair, the ape-like chemist. Lazish! Ham Brooks, the sword-wielding lawyer. Take that!

Rennie Renwick, the two-fisted engineer. Holy cow! Long Tom Roberts, the adventurous electrical genius. Pipe down, you guys. Johnny Littlejohn, the fighting archaeologist. I'll be super amalgamated! And their leader, the greatest adventure hero of the 1930s, the man of bronze, Doc Savage. Doc Savage!

The Variety Arts Radio Theater, by special arrangement with Condé Nast Publications, presents The Adventures of Doc Savage, a new series of radio adventures based on the novels by Lester Dent. Today, The Accursed City, Chapter 5 of the amazing story, The Thousand-Headed Man.

Racing the sinister oriental mastermind Sen Gat to the lost city of the thousand-headed man, Doc Savage and his five men encounter strange phenomena in the steaming Indochina jungle. While searching the pagoda of the hands for Lucille Copeland and Rex Maples, a mysterious fire drops out of the sky, incinerating their plane.

Then they come across the unconscious body of Evel, one of Sengat's henchmen. From Evel, they learn about a seemingly supernatural power, an invisible hissing sound, which overcame the group at the pagoda. At that moment, Sengat's airplanes strafe Doc's company, and in the confusion, Evel escapes into the jungle.

Following his trail, Doc discovers Sengat's deserted camp. Leaving Monk, Ham, Johnny, and Long Tom to guard the plains, as well as the three black sticks, which are the keys to the mystery of the Thousand-Headed Man, Doc and Rennie penetrate deeper into the jungle, where they find a weird stone enclosure, decorated with countless carvings of human feet.

Attempting to climb the wall, Doc and Rennie hear the uncanny hissing noise and helplessly feel themselves slip into oblivion.

Meanwhile, the Jungle Knight settles in around the remainder of Doc's crew guarding Sengat's camp. Tom, where are you? I can't see anything in this blasted darkness. Over here, Long Tom. I'm sitting under this tree. Where? Up there? Up there?

Here's a present for you. Your pet pig. Habeas Corpus! Come here, let me scratch your ears. I found him drinking from the river, not 20 feet from a half-submerged crocodile. I don't know why you bothered to bring him along in the first place. Oh, Habeas is very useful, Long Tom. Remember how he sensed danger back at the Pagoda of the Hands? Anybody tries to sneak up on us here, Habeas will warn us.

Say, where are Hammond and Johnny? They're watching the planes. Sen Gat and his crew might try to get them back, you know. Still worrying about those three black sticks, Monk? Yeah. I've been trying to figure out what they're made of. Any luck? No. They look like rubber, but they aren't. I still can't figure out how they're supposed to be teased to the thousand-headed man's lost city. Thousand-headed man...

I don't think there is any such being. Maybe so, but Calvin Copeland vanished in this jungle trying to find a thousand-headed man. And his daughter Lucille thinks if she finds one, she'll find the other. Well, what are you going to do with the sticks? Maybe if I burn a piece of one, I can tell what it's made of. Where's my matches?

Look. It's melting. Places. I'd better stop before I have a puddle instead of a stick. What kind of stuff looks like rubber and turns into a black wickwood when you heat it? It's me. It's a real puzzle. Well, what do we do with them? Well, we ain't out of this yet. Not by a long shot. If we get held up where that dang mystery power overcomes us, send Gadget Label to get us.

Well, Doc said to hold on to these sticks, but he didn't say anything about them having to be sticks. Yeah. Huh? I don't get you, Mom. I've got me an idea. Why don't you go join Johnny to keep him watch over the planes? I've got some experimenting I want to do. If you say so. See you later, Mom. Hey, now, all I've got to do is take off my shirt and start a fire.

The End

Hey, ain't any of you guys asleep yet? No, these blasted bugs are like airplanes. Ham is right. I, for one, intend to remain awake just to avoid the insects. I agree with Johnny. You guys may have the right idea. Doc and Renny sure have been gone a long time. I hope they're okay. Doc can handle himself. Did you find out anything more about those black sticks? Uh, nope.

Where are they? You've lost them. Relax, Shister. I got them on me. Good. If we ever locate the thousand-headed man, they'll undoubtedly come in handy. Hey! Hey! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Lazy! That sounds like Lucille Copeland. I saw them! I saw them! It is her! Sounds like she's downstream. Let's use the raft. It's quicker. Let's go!

Hurry, push it into the water. Put some muscle behind those poles, fellas. I don't sound like she's in trouble. As believe our quarry may be found around this approaching sandbar. Let's talk and more pushing. There, in that jungle. Now, push under. Come on.

Monk, I don't see her. There's just a thin cloud of jungle. Keep looking, Ham. She's here someplace. Freeze! Huh? Stop! Everybody stop moving. Listen.

The supernatural manifestation of the thousand-headed man. Yeah, Johnny. It's the sound that Evel said got Lucille Copeland to Rex Maples back at the Pagoda de Haines. Back to the raft, quick. We're almost to the raft. Hey, where's Sam? He was right behind us. Long Tom? Hey, Long Tom. Johnny, he just kinged over us.

It is him! He's out too! What's going on, Johnny? I don't know. A sensation of vertigo. Johnny! Johnny, not you too! I'm the only one left in. I can't see a blasted thing in the dark. Maybe I can...

Rennie? Rennie? Can you hear me? Wake up. Holy cow. Doc. You can stop slapping my face. I'm awake now.

What happened? Don't you remember? Sort of. It's coming back now. We found that wall covered with carved feet. We were climbing it. We'd just gotten to the top. That's right. I was about to look down when the sound came. Yeah. I remember it was a hissing sort of sound, like air was leaking out of a bunch of tires. That's the last I remember. I heard the same thing. We both seemed to have passed out and fallen to the ground. Yeah.

Luckily, the undergrowth cushioned our fall. But, Doc, what was that sound? You explained it yourself before you lost consciousness, remember? You said it sounded like the noise Evel described when he, Lucille Copeland, and Rex Maples were overcome at the Pagoda of the Hand. You think that was it? It certainly appears that way. Think you can stand? Yeah. I still feel a little dizzy, that's all.

Well, I guess we've got to take another crack at climbing that wall, huh? Not really. Look around you. We fell over to the other side. We're inside the enclosure now. Yeah. Holy cow. Look over there. It's another pagoda. Just like the other one. Not quite. This one is covered with feet, not hands. That's right. Looks deserted.

Perhaps. Let's approach with caution. This sure is spooky looking in the moonlight. Keep a sharp watch. We still may encounter that strange hissing power. The dirt looks undisturbed. We can see the end of the pagoda? Yes. Up the stairs.

I guess I can understand that people have carved all those hands on that other pagoda, but why carve feet? Perhaps the answer will lie inside. Still got your flashlight? Yes. Say, these walls are covered with feet, too. Yes, and the layout is similar to the other pagoda. So this passage should lead up to a central chamber. There it is ahead.

What are all those things piled up in the middle of the floor? Bones, Renny. Human bones. And equipment. The remains of some European expeditionary.

This target pistol looks recent. Say, what's that engraved on the grip? It says, Presented to Aviator James Malone by Calvin Copeland. Holy cow! These might be the remains of the Copeland expedition? Or of the people Calvin Copeland returned to Indochina to rescue. Well, they're beyond rescuing now. Obviously. We'd better get back to camp. Yeah. Back over the wall, I guess.

The End

We made good time, Doc. There's the camp ahead. Yes, but I don't see Monk or the others. Mr. Savage! Mr. Savage! Miss Copeland, how did you get here? I found myself waking up in the jungle and I stumbled across this camp. I have no idea of how I was brought here or by whom. Or by what? Where are our friends? I have no idea.

Evel told us about the unseen power that overcame you and Maples. We had a similar encounter with this hissing power, but we saw nothing. Did you? No. And it was horrible. Almost as horrible as the heads. Heads? What heads? When I came to, Mr. Savage, there was a man standing beside me in the moonlight. He was the most unearthly thing. He had... Oh, I could barely say it. Yes? He had...

A thousand heads. Holy cow. Talk sense, Miss Copeland. I tell you, there were heads all over his body. He was a big man, Mr. Savage, as big as you. And he was covered with heads. They sprouted from his arms, his legs, even from his chest. Doctor, there's a thousand-headed man.

It's real. How large were these heads? About the size of lemons. You must understand, this man had one big head, like a normal person. But the other heads, the smaller ones, grew out of his body. These heads, did they show any expression? Did they laugh or snarl or speak? They did not wait to see. I screamed and ran into the jungle.

did the thousand headed man chase you? yes for a short distance but I outran him then I heard shouting it sounded like your men so I ran toward the sounds and found this deserted cabin Doc Monk and the others must have heard her screams and took the wrath but they missed each other yes that makes sense Miss Copeland do you think you can take us to where you saw the thousand headed man? yes I think so let's go then

Don't be afraid, Miss Copeland. You'll be safe with us. You would be jittery as well if you had seen the thousand-headed man. I haven't seen him and I'm jittery already. This jungle can sure unnerve a guy. I think this is it. Yes. See that gnarled root? This is it. Here are a man's footprints. It's a thousand-headed man, no doubt. Look how big they are and they sink pretty deep in the dirt.

This guy must weigh more than you, Doc. He was a giant. Believe me. Let's follow the tracks. Looks like they're leading down to the river.

They stop right at the water's edge. There are indications of a raft or boat moored here. Recently, too. Mr. Savage, look at this. I found it on the ground. Looks like a bandage or something. But look at the weave. My father did that. He had a hobby of hand-weaving things like this. This is his work. I'm certain. This weaving can't be more than three weeks old. That means Calvin Copeland's still alive, Doc. Oh, we must find him, Mr. Savage. Mr. Savage.

Doc! There's Hebeus Corpus. Come here, Hebeus. Here, boy, here, look. Come here. Look scared. Monk and the others must have headed downstream without him. If the thousand-headed man hasn't captured him. Renny, let's see if we can build another raft and follow their course. Right, Doc.

I am sorry. I can't help you push the rock along, Mr. Evans. But I'm still too weak. We're doing fine, Miss Copeland. Say, Doc, look up ahead. I see it. Looks like an ancient boat landing, though it's fallen into ruin. Let's put in there. We picked a good time to land. The sun's coming up. Let me help you, Miss Copeland. Come on.

Look, Doc. There's an old road there. It leads west, beyond that... Holy cow. It leads to that city. You can see it now in the light. The city of the thousand-headed man. Come on. Come on.

It's uncanny, Doc. Look at all those box-like buildings. I see. They seem to be outer fortifications of some kind, and there's a wall beyond it. And beyond it must be the city proper, judging from those towers and minarets showing above. It's breathtaking, Mr. Savage. The sunrise is splashing red colors all over us. Yeah, like blood. There's the gate ahead. Look. Look.

These buildings are carved with little scales, like snakes. Those aren't scales, Miss Copeland. Those are teeth. Oh, how awful. Hands, feet, teeth. What next? Here's the gate. Wait. The three black sticks, Mr. Savage. My father told me I'd need them to enter the city safely. But you don't know how to use them. But we might figure them out. That's possible, but I no longer have the sticks.

You haven't. I entrusted them to Monk Mayfair. Oh. Are you game to enter the city without the sticks? I've come a long way to find my father. Yes, I'm game. Good. Let's go, then.

Mr. Savage, it's so quiet. All those... Supernatural. Say, the buildings are covered with carvings, too. Are those arms and legs? Yes, and torsos as well. The people who built this city clearly built the pagodas carved with hands and feet...

Perhaps that has religious significance. See any inhabitants, Renny? No, Doc. Could the place be deserted? I doubt it. The buildings are old, but well tended. Habeas is acting up again, Doc. Yes. He must see or smell something. Do you... Do you suppose he senses the presence of the thousand-headed man? Let's find out. Put him down, Renny.

Habeas, go find what's bothering you. Go on, boy.

Doc, he's heading for that darkened doorway. Should we follow him in? Yes, but let's be cautious. Miss Copeland, you remain here in the open. All right. Come on, Renny. See anything, Doc? Not yet. Wait. There's a door ahead. Think Habeas went through it? Could be. Help! The dog's been headed down! Help! Doc, something's happened to the girl. Help!

This is where we left it, Doc. Right here. Doc. I feel free. Renny, keep running. That weird power has been here. You mean the hissing sound? Yes. I felt it too. Keep running. Maybe we can out-distance its effects. Doc. Apeus is back. He's trotting right beside you. I see. I think... I think this is far enough. Doc.

Hapius must have sensed the hissing danger and ducked into that doorway to escape. But where's Lucille Copeland? I don't know, Rennie. Doc, look. Up on that roof. It's Sen Gap and that cockney sidekick of his, Evel. Yes. Let's see what they want.

Calling me wasn't a wise thing to do, Sengat. I have a score to settle with you. Come, come on. I mean you no harm. Great is my terror, for death is close upon us.

And all that the black sticks you carry can save us. Send guests telling the truth, Savage. Give us two of the black sticks. They're going to help you unless you know how to use them. Let's get closer, Rennie. You know how to use the black sticks? We know. Do you know what happened to Lucille Copeland? No. By my ancestors, I do not.

Before we discuss the black sticks, Sengat, tell us what happened to you two. We found your planes deserted at the camp. You will remember, Don Miles, when my friend Errol escaped from you in the jungle. Yeah, you and your pirates tried to shoot us from your planes. You were merely trying to protect our friends, but...

We landed our planes to pick up Eva when something inexorable happened to her. Well, I should see some of my many angry cats. But we saw nothing. Then my dad and I, when I awoke, I was in a stone chamber here in this accursed city along with Eva. You're leaving something out. Where did you learn how to use the black sticks? Here.

If I do that, then I won't have one for my friend Rennie here. Too bad for him, I say. Because if you don't give us the sticks, none of us are getting out of this hellish place alive. What became of the rest of my men? You knew I had the three black sticks. Perhaps. But I think just about half of what you say is the truth. See, Doc, I just noticed something.

From this ankle, I can see a hole in the roof where Sen Gatneville is sitting. There are two ropes leading from a tie to both those crooks' ankles. They're prisoners. Doc, I see you're ready.

Who is holding you prisoner, Sengat? Are those diamonds what brought you to this city in the first place? Then

Then you knew all along, even back in London, that the thousand-headed man's city contained a treasure. How? Even Rex Maples didn't know that. I have prayed at any jungle for many years. Many times I have heard of this city as well.

How much else do you know? Nothing. I swear by my many illustrious and honorable ancestors. Another lie, Sen Gat. No, I swear. Doc! They fell into that hole in the roof. Not fell, Rennie. They were pulled down. Something took hold of the cords and yanked them inside. Well, that something had to be plenty strong to do that. As strong as you, Doc. Let's find out what it is. I'll boost you up under the roof. Up you go. Doc.

Okay, Doc. Take my hand and I'll lift you. Here's the hole. I see stairs going down. The steps end here. And there's a passageway. I hope you brought your flashlight, Doc. It's getting awful dim. I have it. No sign of Sen Garevo. Maybe they'll be on this next turn.

Nope. Nothing here. Boy, this is sure a long, structured corridor, ain't it? Hey, I see a light up ahead. Yes. It's sunlight. There must be another hole in the ceiling. Sure is bright. Hey, I thought I saw something move in the light.

Doc, there is something in the light ahead. It's huge. It's right in front of us. Doc, it's the Thousand-Headed Man! Are Doc and Rennie about to discover the secret of the Thousand-Headed Man? Will they confront the strange hissing danger again? And what of the fate of the lost Copeland Expedition?

Don't miss The Deadly Treasure, the sixth and final chapter of The Thousand-Headed Man, next time on The Adventures of Doc Savage. The Thousand-Headed Man

The Thousand-Headed Man was written by Lester Dent and adapted for radio by Will Murray. Featured in the cast were Daniel Chodos, Bill Ratner, Art Dutch, Scott McKenna, Bob Farley, Robert Towers, Kimmett Muston,

Ann Ross, and William Irwin. Also heard was Bob Lyons. Sound effects were created by David Sertiz, assisted by Jerry Williams. Production assistance by Samantha Kimmel and Doris Christie. Engineering by Denny King. ♪♪

♪♪

The Adventures of Doc Savage is produced and directed by Roger Rittner and is a presentation of the Variety Arts Radio Theater. The Strange Doctor Weird Good evening.

Come in, won't you? Why, what's the matter? You seem a bit pale. Have you been working too hard? Possibly a story might help relax you. A story, say, about a man who could read other men's minds and who felt sure his strange power would make him tremendously wealthy. I call his story The Man Who Knew Everything. The Man Who Knew Everything

My story, The Man Who Knew Everything, begins in the Crystal Club, a lavish nightclub. A small man, very old, clad in robes of yellow silk, moves from table to table. He carries a small crystal ball into which he peers as he tells diners their most secret thoughts. He calls himself Randor the Mystic.

Watching him from the doorway are three men. Nick Thompson, owner of the club, Rocky Brogan, his bodyguard, and Jerry Fenton, the press agent who handles Randall's affairs.

It's really an act Randor has there, Jerry. What I'd like to know is, is it a gag or is it on the level? It's on the level, all right. You really can look inside your mind, Nick. I'm staying away from him. I don't want anybody reading my mind. I know too much about myself already. If he's on the level, what's he doing working in a nightclub act? Why doesn't he use his little trick to clean up big?

He says it's dangerous to use powers like that for yourself. If you ask me, I think he's bugs. Yeah, I'll say. Imagine being able to read the combination of a bank vault from the cashier's mind. Gee. It would be handy. Nick, I gotta do an errand. If Rander asks for me, tell him I'll be back before the midnight show, will ya?

slipping from the club jerry fenton a few minutes later let himself into the small apartment where his employer ran to or knew alone taking a sheaf of papers from a desk he settled down to read an hour passed and then unexpectedly he heard the door open huh randall yes my friend

I felt unwell. My heart pained me, so I returned to my home to find you reading my secret documents. Well, so what? You have pride in my secrets. I can see it clearly in your mind. This is not the first time. All right, then, I have. And listen, you nightclub swami. I've found out how you do your mind-reading stunt. That crystal ball you carry's got nothing to do with it.

It's those cough drops you're always chewing. They're doped. True. They are doped with a specialist Indian drug, which gives up the brain so that it can receive the delicate thought waves from another mind. Yeah, and I know how to prepare those cough drops of yours. It's a very neat trick, being able to hear another man's thoughts right inside your own skull. I can do it myself now. And you intend to use your knowledge for evil. No, it must not be.

Swear to me you will forget what you know. Or else... Or else what? Or else you must die. So that's how it is, huh? Well, two can play at that game. What are you doing? If one of us has got to go, it won't be me. This cushion, Randolph. If I hold it over your face for a minute...

When they find you, they'll think your ticker gave out on you. No, you dare not. This power you have stolen, it will turn on you. Men's thoughts are not to be trusted. You are... Sorry, Randor. But nothing's stopping me now. Nothing, do you hear?

As Jerry Fenton had foretold, the death of Randor the Mystic was ascribed to natural causes. But for several days, Fenton stayed in seclusion, studying the notes he had stolen from the dead man. Then, one evening, he dropped in on Nick Thompson and his bodyguard, Rocky Brogan, in Thompson's office. Hello, Jerry. Sit down. Thanks. Nick, I've decided to take over the Crystal Club and your little numbers racket. Yeah.

Hey, what kind of a gag is this? It's no gag. You see, Nick, I happen to know you're wanted for murder in California. How'd you know that? I know. That's why you're turning the club and your organization over to me. Rocky. Yeah, boss? Get out your gun. We're taking care of this rat now. I hate to tell you this, boss, but I'm working for Jerry now. What? Yeah. You see, I know things about Rocky, too.

He's decided it's smart to stick by me. That's right, boss. He knows too much about me. Well, in that case... Right, boss. Well, that took care of him. Yeah. Now I'm boss around here, understand? Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, boss. And, Rocky, I'm on my way. In a year, I'll own this town. Yeah.

Dr. Weird, the first part of your story about Jerry makes me wonder, do you know anything about reading minds? A little, a little. For instance, right now, I can see you have something on your mind about hats, the Adam hats. Doctor, how did you guess? You know, I was just thinking that Jerry, or any man for that matter, would feel as if he owned the town if he owned an Adam.

And it doesn't take mind reading to see why. One look at the flair and dash of atom hats will make any man glow with enthusiasm. A man who knows quality appreciates such atom features as the fine tailoring, the lustrous all-fur felt, the distinctive styles, and the softly harmonized shades. And there's more to an atom than just meets the eye. Put one on and feel how comfortably it fits.

as if it were made expressly for you. What's more, an atom keeps its fine shape. You'll always feel confident of your appearance when you wear an atom hat. Now, our mastermind, Dr. Weird. And now to continue my story, the man who knew everything.

It is a day or so later, and Jerry Fenton, confident now of his ability to accomplish anything he desires by being able to read minds, is closeted with Rocky Brogan. All right, now, Rocky, we're ready to get on the way. What are you figuring on, boss? I want to get a bankroll together. A big bankroll.

So I'm going to start planning a few really big jobs to get quick money. If I can make a suggestion, boy. There's a job I've been kind of thinking about for a long time. All right, what is it? It's a payroll job. The S&J Company across the river. Now, every Friday, they send an armored truck to the bank here in town, pick up a hundred grand and cart it back. Now, if we could pick off that truck some nice safe way... A hundred thousand dollars.

Yeah, that'll be a swell beginning. And tomorrow's Friday. Tomorrow night, that payroll is going to be ours. The next morning, Fenton, on a pretext, interviewed the treasurer of the S&J Manufacturing Company.

And as they talked of harmless matters, Fenton's keyed-up senses plucked from the other's mind facts so astounding that Fenton was still laughing to himself when he returned to the crystal club. Well, Rocky, it's all set. We're going to pick up that payroll this afternoon. That's fast works. Boys, where do we knock off the armored car? We're not even going to bother with that armored car. It's just a bluff.

The payroll is really delivered in an old truck marked Tropical Towel Supply Company. You're kidding. An hour after the armored car leaves, a laundry truck drives up at the rear of the bank. The driver carries in a bundle of clean towels and comes out with a bag of dirty ones. The payroll is hidden among the dirty towels. Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. Follow that truck and pick it up. When it reaches the warehouse district, take it to our own garage. Get the payroll and get rid of the truck and the driver.

After that, report back to me. It'll be like taking candy from a baby. Okay, boss. I'm on my way. That afternoon, as Fenton waited for Rocky Rogan's return, he let himself daydream a little. A hundred thousand dollars delivered in a bag of dirty towels. And I learned about it as easily as if that fool treasurer had told me in so many words. Ha, ha, ha.

I will own this town in a year. Why not? There's no one to stop me. Yeah, who is it? Hey, boss, Rocky. Come in, Rocky. Boss, it's the driver of the tow supply truck. Right.

What did you bring him here for? I tell you, you're making a mistake. A bad mistake. Yeah, we took the laundry truck smooth as ice cream, boss. And we got it in our garage. But we can't find the payroll. You can't? Why not? Because there isn't any payroll. That's why. Yeah, boss. You know, the boys are wondering maybe if you didn't make a mistake, boss. I haven't made a mistake. Rocky, step outside. I'll find out where that payroll is. Okay, boss. Call me when you meet him. I don't know what your game is, but you're making a terrible mistake, mister. Really. I can't be wrong. I know it.

Pardon me, I need a cough drop. There we are. Now we'll get the truth. But I told you the truth already. Be quiet. So, the bag with a payroll in it is hidden in a secret compartment under the truck body. No, you can't know that. Nobody in the world knows that but me. But I do know it now. No, you won't get away with it. I'll stop you. I'll stop you with this. A gun? Yeah, and you're gonna let me go or I'll shoot. I'll shoot to kill. Then shoot, why don't you?

I'll tell you why you don't shoot. Because the gun's empty and you know it. It's not true. Stay away from me or I'll pull the trigger. I will. Go ahead and pull it. You see, the bluff is no good. I know the gun is empty just as well as you do. In fact, I know it's empty because you do. Now give it to me. No. Stand back. I'll shoot. I'll shoot. You shot me. The gun wasn't empty.

But I... I thought... You thought that... He's dead. I killed him. The gun was loaded. I thought it was empty. I was just bluffing. All along, I thought it was empty. So that was what Randor the mystic meant when he said men's thoughts couldn't be trusted.

when a man doesn't even know his own gun is loaded? What good is it going to do to read his mind? Poor Jerry. Perhaps his fate will be a lesson to you. Don't depend on anyone else to do your thinking for you, because sometimes, oh, you have to go. Perhaps you'll drop in again soon. Just look for the house on the other side of the cemetery. The house of Dr. Weird.

Time, the silent herald of life and death, success or failure, the unseen force that measures man's destiny, reaching its most fateful moment as it slowly strikes the 11th. The 11th.

Good morning. Good morning, person. What can I do for you? I was paging through an old magazine...

And I saw a reference to a writer. I wondered whether you might have something. His name? Shakespeare. William Shakespeare. Shakespeare. Yes, it does seem fairly familiar.

How do you spell it? S-H-A-K-E-S-P-E-A-R-E. Hmm. I'll look it up in the guideline. Won't be a moment.

Thought rule number 112. The works of William Shakespeare were banned as from 10-12-1997. Any person asking for them will be fined two hours. Yes. I'm sorry, person, but the guideline says Shakespeare's works were banned in... Thank you. Thank you.

It's a beautiful day. The air control has been set superbly. There's no fluctuation in warmth at all. And if any rain is planned...

There's a lot to be thankful for. All these wonderful living aids, absolutely free. Tonight, I suppose, we'll watch Quadravision. Although I must remember to adjust the rear screens. The texture's a little rough. And I don't want to miss anything. The state entertainment is magnificently presented and so interesting.

I'm not possessed to ask for something by Shakespeare. After all, if there'd been anything worthwhile in his writings, they wouldn't have been... You're learning, person 1273 Cluelo. It was a mistake. Still, the sentence has been computerized and the two hours allotted. You will be notified later. Ah!

You're early. Yes. Did you finish? Almost. I would have if I hadn't left a program card in Austria. Can't they telephone it through? No, I've got it. I went to fetch it at lunchtime.

But by then it was too late. What a shame. Are you hungry? Starved. What are we having? Cabbage. You're not married to a millionaire, you know. Not yet, anyway. Don't worry. We'll survive. Now, come and sit down. I'll get the dish. Thank you.

I was talking to 1684 Brown. How's her mother? Not too well. And they're not responding to treatment. 1273 Cluelo. Yes. Your two-hour sentence is to begin at 9.30. Kindly prepare yourself. Yes, I'll remember. Your enforcer? Of course. They're so good to us, aren't they? Very much so.

You know what we do without them. That's why I'm so pleased I have a sentence. Oh. Tonight? 9.30. Better eat your cabbage. It's getting cold. 12.73. Hmm.

12.73. Yes? It's 9.27. You'd better go in. Yes. Yes.

A minute to go. I've done wrong, so I must accept my punishment. Why do I think like this? I suppose... I suppose because I mustn't think any other way. Not without the risk of their overhearing. Could it always have been like this?

Seems so. But then, somehow, I remember a distant time when we could all think for ourselves without acting like vegetables. Like a cabbage. 1273, you are risking further punishment by allowing your thoughts pre-reign.

Yes, I know. I'm sorry. Very well. It will be overlooked. Your sentence is to be carried out... now.

No!

Sentence has been carried out. Did you profit by it? Yes. Good. These are the paths to model citizenship.

Go to sleep. Go to sleep.

I won't ask you whether you slept well. No, don't. Your breakfast is in the microwave. Is it cabbage? Yes.

I don't want it. But, Cabbage... I don't want it! Cabbage! I can't go on like this. I don't really care how much they monitor me. I'm going to sink for myself.

Strange how the thoughts start coming back once I give them the opportunity. I'm 46 now. I must have been 25 in 1986 when it happened. That was a long time ago. 1986. 1986.

Cheers, Fred. Yeah, cheers.

I should really be having champagne. You, perhaps. I don't have anything to celebrate. You know, I can't fathom what you've got against me. Just about everything. Oh, come on. That's the truth. I don't happen to like Hostard, nor do I believe in what he promises. Look, he was the best candidate we had. Of a poor bunch, perhaps. The whole country's behind you. They're fools. Whether they are or not, they voted him in.

by landslide. The uninformed are easily learned. An 87% vote for Hausdorff doesn't exactly indicate that his supporters are uninformed. Not by a long shot. Remember all those university professors parading through Regency? They were carrying his banners.

The armed forces are behind him, too. You heard all those generals applauding the Ruppers. Well, I don't trust him. Oh, what can you do? It's a democratic country. You cast your vote against him and you came off second best. He can't be indicted just for winning. By now, the king's probably asking him to form a government. I'll leave the country. Could do worse.

Don't be ridiculous. Give him a chance. Hostard and his scientific reformers? Yes. Not likely. You mark my words, Alec. In six months, with all that scientific rubbish at his disposal, and the go-ahead to use it, he's going to change everything. We are striding towards a new future.

And these aren't just empty promises, I really mean it. You all know only too well how conditions in this country have steadily worsened over the years. Admittedly, on a par with similar conditions in other parts of the world, but bad all the same. And while things have deteriorated, the real advance we've had has been in the field of scientific development.

That is why the scientific reformers came into being. To take the fullest possible advantage of these great achievements. We are going to get this country right.

For the sake of national unity, all first names will be abolished. The surname will be renamed the family name, and we'll be preceded by a number. Men by an odd number, women by an even. As befits my position as Prime Minister, and because the King remains being called King, my number will be one.

Parliament is to be dissolved.

Our 712 members serve no useful purpose. So, we are disbanding Parliament and abolishing all laws. You look aghast, my friends. Don't you see what this means? Well, I'll tell you. Every man, woman and child in this country is to be his or her own Parliament. Deep in the mind.

They will be friendly and helpful, these special rule enforcers. They will operate from central thought exchanges in London, Manchester, Birmingham, and so on.

Can you people yet grasp the enormity of this undertaking? Crime will end. Wrongdoing will end. Evil natures will be converted. Bad habits will be carefully eradicated. You will all be watched over, guided, perhaps gently chastised, but always with a certain knowledge that your well-being is our prime consideration.

What are you doing to us, Hostard? What are you doing? Seven years into the new century. 2007.

That's 21 years of Hostard and his scientific reformers. How they encroached on us, slowly at first. Then with almost flaunted haste. All those secret rules which nobody knew and everyone could break to the sound of those arrogant voices.

4738 Brown, you have broken thought rule number 73. This is a military matter. Kindly present yourself for corrective training at once.

4938 Jones, you have broken thought rule number 17. It says that painting your home an unapproved color is forbidden. You will be sentenced to one hour. At first we all treated it as a joke, but it ceased to be amusing as fast our group drank with power. I have ensured that the finest thinkers in every sphere are to do your thinking for you.

to put their great knowledge to your advantage. Let yourself be guided and helped in the right direction. How can thou, Hostar, to fool us with all that good nonsense? How? Twenty-one wasted years! Twelve-seventy-three, Cluelo. Yes. How dare you think like that? Thought rule number 326 forbids free thought on the grounds that it encourages discontent. Thought rule number 103 forbids maligning of superiors.

Thought rule number 67 forbids referring back to the older, unenlightened days.

Thought rule number 450 expressly forbids fantasizing in any way whatsoever. I don't care. Then you will be sentenced for contempt. Do what you like. Are you ill, 1273? No. Yes, you must be. You must summon a medical doctor. I don't need a doctor. Then you will be sentenced medically. Look, do whatever you like. I don't care.

I have called for the emergency medical ambulance.

Come on, 1273. Come on. Let me go. Oh, yeah, 1351. Two micro CCs. That's ready. Hold his arm. No. All right. Let him go. It's done. I feel so... 1273, Culo. Yes. Go into the house.

Yes, once. I heard the medical ambulance. What did they... I must lie down. Did you... Did you resist them? I...

I can't resist them. 1273. Yes? Sleep and relax for one hour. Then you will be sentenced.

How do you feel? All right. Put on the quadravision. Yes, sir. Oh, how nice. I'm so glad they prohibited all that other music. It's amazing how you still remember it. It's been banned for 14 years. I dare say they had their reasons for doing it. I don't know.

Yes. Tell me, do they monitor all the time? It wouldn't be possible. There aren't enough enforcers for all of us. They have to pick up a thought first. So it's a case of taking a chance. Yes. Then I want to show you what I found today. Yes.

Look. What? What is it? A box. Pretty, isn't it? Very. Where did you find it? In the spare room. Packed among some shoes. But that's not all, 1273. Open it. Go on. Press the clip. Isn't that amazing? What beautiful music.

It's not so melodic and yet so peaceful. I felt that too. I suppose it's forbidden to listen, I mean. Well, it's hardly military. 1273 Cluelo. Quick, close it. 1273 Cluelo. Yes. I've just beamed the monitor.

What are you discussing? Nothing. Don't lie. It's punishable, as you know. We're talking about a box. A box 1274 found. Is it permitted? No. It's an ornament. You have a good memory. Rule number 270 forbids the possession and admiration of ornaments. What does the box contain? It's empty. You're lying again. There's nothing of interest in an empty box. Open it and throw the contents on the floor. Very well.

That music is not martial. And it's by no means permitted. You will be severely... Severely... Punished... In your... In your... 1274. 1274. What is it? What's wrong? The enforcer. Something's happened to her voice. I didn't think anything could happen to a humanoid computer. I...

I hear my enforcer all too often. Are you sure? Of course I'm sure. Her voice just trailed off, as if she'd fallen into a sleep or a trance. What caused it? I don't know. She was beginning to threaten me on account of the music. That's it. The music. Somehow it's managed to phase her out completely. The music.

Should I try it? It's the only way. Go on, 1274. Yes, yes.

Hostard is a corrupt madman. He and his equally corrupt followers are abusing power with no regard for the people. We are being treated like sheep and are becoming sheep. He's speaking to me. Cross 73. Is he annoyed? Very. Quick, open the box. Oh.

Well? As you said, his voice is fading. But the words quite indistinct. It's gone. His voice is gone. Oh, 1273. We've done it. We've found a way out. After all these years. After all...

Oh, my God.

You see, as far as I can make out, their humanoid computer simply isn't programmed to deal with any music other than that Marshall stuff. And this other music from the little box just happens to have a soporific effect. Do you realize what this means? We've

We can have recordings made. Thousands and thousands of identical recordings. Of course. Each and every home has an audio and a video recorder. The cassettes can be circulated. We can make each recipient responsible for another ten. And then they'll cover the country in no time at all. As the enforcers speak, the music will be played and there'll be power. Yes. Can you visualize it, Charles 73? There'll be power. And we'll be free of them at last.

That's if they're not clever enough to find out what we're doing and forced all of us... Oh, Kathy. Oh, 1273. We'll be able to think for ourselves. All of us. Instead of being dictated to. It'll go back to the life I can barely remember but know existed. Then we

We must begin at once. Yes, at once. There must be some people, the older folk, who can remember what books were read, what food was eaten, what people did for recreation. Once we've got all that back, Hostard will have to resign. The clever, clever Hostard, but not clever enough. No more will we have to see Hostard's bland smile on quadravision, and no more of this maddening military music.

1273. It... It... It's... I know. 1273, Cluelo. We have made an adjustment to our computer. Thought rule number 77. There is to be no conspiracy against us. You will be fined six times.

The Eleventh Hour this week was written and produced by Michael McCabe. The Eleventh Hour this week was written and produced by Michael McCabe.

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

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

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

became something to fear and dread for those victimized by the night. You might not want to sleep after joining our next live stream. It's Saturday, December 28th at 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 scream for chilling tales of what some people must endure in an attempt to get some sleep. Find the details on the live screen page at WeirdDarkness.com.