DEMON LOVER: Obsession Through Possession | Paranormal, Crime, and Science-Fiction Old Time Radio
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Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Retro Radio – old-time radio in the dark, brought to you by WeirdDarkness.com. 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 our free newsletter, connect with us on social media, listen to free audiobooks that I've narrated. Plus, you can 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 tonight's retro radio, old-time radio in the dark. The CBS Radio Mystery Theater presents... ♪♪

Come in. Welcome. I'm E.G. Marshall, host for certain dark and mysterious ceremonies that are celebrated regularly at this time and place. Why do we do it? Why do we teach children certain proverbs or maxims or give them various bits of cautionary wisdom which in actual practice prove at worst to be false?

and at best irrelevant. For instance, we say, "All the world loves a lover." Really? Half the people in his own hometown were out to kill Romeo. And how many friends did Don Juan have? The truth is, being a lover can turn out to be the most hazardous occupation of them all.

Oh, my darling. I beg your pardon. My beloved. You must be making a mistake. It's no mistake. No mistake. I love you. I've never seen you before in my life. I adore you. Please, this is a public place. People are staring. Hold me. Now, look, lady. Kiss me. I don't even know you. Love me. Love me, or I'll kill you.

Our mystery drama, Demon Lover, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Sam Dan and stars Mandel Kramer. It is sponsored in part by True Value Hardware Stores and Buick Motor Division. I'll be back shortly with Act One. Why are so many love stories written? Well, writers love them.

A writer doesn't have to prove or justify anything as far as love is concerned. His characters fall in love because he commands them to. For any reason or for no reason. And isn't that also the way it is in what we are pleased to call real life? Look at some of the romantic combinations of your own acquaintance. Can you figure them out? Why do people fall in love?

Here we deal in answers. And so, we're about to meet Professor Albert Morrison. It's two in the morning. I know it is 2 a.m., even though there is no clock in the room. And they've taken my wristwatch from me. There was nothing malicious about that. Evidently, they fear I could break the crystal and do myself some injury. Of course, I could ring for the orderly, and he would tell me. The big heavy one, Joe, he's on tonight.

And for all that he looks like a gorilla, he's really very kind and gentle. But I don't have to ask anyone. I can see the sky. And I can tell by the location of Cassiopeia. You see, I can center the whole constellation between the two middle bars of the window. Well, it doesn't really matter what time it is. I don't think I'll be going anywhere.

But the fact is, I am right about the time, because I hear Joe outside with my two o'clock medication. You asleep, Doc? No. I got your pill. I spiked some grape juice for you. Thanks, Joe. You know, you're supposed to drink it with water, but I know how much you like grape juice. You're very kind, Joe. I think you're getting a bum deal. You know, after all, what'd you do? You killed a dame. Well, that's a lot. One less dame in the world. Who's gonna miss her, huh?

Doc? Yes, Joe? May I quit fighting City Hall? City Hall? Yeah, the wheels. You know, the establishment. Ah, you know what I mean. Look...

They want to think you're nuts? Okay, leave them. Go along. Play ball. Then they'll say, oh, well, we got to give them therapy and return them as a useful member of society. You follow that? Yes, I think so. And so you play the game with them for a year or two years, just to make it look good. You follow that? And before you know it, you've

You're free. You're out of here. And it's like nothing ever happened. And believe me, Doc, in your whole life, nobody's ever going to give you a better chunk of advice. Thank you, Joe. Now, tomorrow, I got to chew the grapevine. You're getting a new doctor.

I hadn't heard that. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Somebody who wrote a couple of books. And so she's suddenly a hot property. She? Yeah, Dane. So, she'll be out to score points. Just lead her along, you know? Leave her to find out you ain't with us. Look, Joe, I can't play a role. The truth is... The truth. That's the trouble with you educated guys. You worry about the truth.

A new doctor. Why am I being given a new doctor? And a woman doctor? I don't like this. I was feeling very comfortable with Dr. Rader. Is that why we're changing doctors? Because I'm comfortable? Oh, listen to me. I'm becoming paranoid. Actually developing a persecution complex. These people are only doing what has to be done. After all, according to the circumstantial evidence. But why a new doctor? And why a woman?

What kind of game is she going to play with me? I've already told the entire story, Dr. Mallow. I know you have, Dr. Morrison. It does seem odd that we call each other doctor. I have a PhD in astronomy. I don't insist on being called doctor. Nor do I. But since I am the patient, it is altogether fitting that I call you doctor. You are the patient and I am the doctor. Why?

Because these are the roles that have been assigned to us by society. Who knows? It is entirely possible that I shall be helped more than you by our sessions. I see. A brand new technique. Why do you say that? Oh, I've become an authority in psychiatrists. We have the austere ones, the friendly ones, the clinical ones. Now, you. How do you classify me? Well, you seem to be a we're both in this thing together type. Well, we both are.

Tell me what happened. Doctor, why do you persist? Why do all of you persevere in this pathetic little game? I'm not aware that it's a game. I was under the impression that absolute truth between doctor and patient is the cornerstone to any success in this type of relationship. I am new to this case.

I have no preconceived idea. You're saying you know nothing about me? Nothing. Am I to assume that you never have read the papers, looked at a news program? The news media can only examine the skin of the orange. What lies beneath is beyond their capabilities. I see. We have here a phrase maker. It's the truth. Therefore, you intend to peel me as if I were an orange, to reveal my hidden juices. With your help. Doctor, why aren't you honest?

Why doesn't everybody come clean? You're out to prove I'm crazy. And you know it. We'll play the game. But I'm sane, Doctor. I am as sane as you are. You could be making a self-damaging statement. You know, you're very soft and very gentle. With just a touch of wry humor. Very much like Dorothy was. Same blonde hair. Dorothy. Is it possible? Are they that diabolical? Who is Dorothy? My wife.

She was my wife. She died five years ago. She was the only woman I ever loved. And I remind you of Dorothy. In many ways. So they have found what they think is a psychological softening of process. They'll expose me to you. It won't work. I'm sane. Tell me what happened. For the 987th time, I was in the Logan cafeteria in the faculty administration building when a woman I had never seen before in my life

threw herself at me. Don't just tell it. Try to relive it. Try to reveal to me what it looked like, felt like. All right. It passes the time. I've already said I was in the Logan cafeteria. I generally don't eat there, but on Fridays they have New England clam chowder. So I bought myself a bowl and I found a quiet table and I was enjoying my clam chowder. It was thick with large, succulent clam chunks.

God was in his heaven and all was right with the world when suddenly she hurled herself at me, knocking the clamp chowder to the floor in the process. I remember I said, Madam, please, but she threw her arms around me, began to cover my face, mouth with kisses. Please, Madam, please. Oh, I love you. I love you. You must be making a mistake. Darling, darling, darling, please. What is the meaning of this? Please, who are you? I must have you, always. Madam, you are... This is certainly some mistake.

No. Now, please. Don't push me away. Take me. Love me. You have confused me with someone else. No. No, I know who you are, what you are. Now I know why I was born, to love you. I tell you, this is all a mistake. I wouldn't want you to make... Love me now. Look, can't we discuss this? Love me here. Rationally, please. Love me. We are starting a scene. People are looking. I don't care. I defy the world. I don't care. Please.

Excuse me. Please, excuse me. Oh, love me. Please, will you excuse me? I adore you. Excuse me. Somehow I broke away from her. I ran to the door into the street. I ran all the way across the campus. I didn't stop running until I came to my apartment. When I arrived there, the phone was already ringing. Hello? Morrison. Morrison, this is Clemens. Yes? Clemens. Jim Clemens. President Clemens. Oh, yes. Yes, sir. Get over here to my office at once.

Jim? Mr. Pondert. President Clements, sir. Oh, boy. Well, Doctor, when the president of the university says, get over here, you get over there. And I did.

And he was loaded for bear. He harangued me for ten solid minutes before I could get a word in edgewise. And when I finally did, he refused to believe it. You expect me to believe that? It's the truth. I warn you, Al, don't insult my intelligence. I know how you feel about me. I know how you all do. I got the job because I know how to raise money, not because of any intellectual brilliance.

Now, you look down on me, but don't you think you can take me in with a story like that? I haven't told you a story. I said I never saw that woman before in my life. Well, that's a one-sentence story, and it is a lie. I was sitting there minding my own business, enjoying my clam chowder when this woman at

Okay, okay. I expect trouble with my political science people, with my arts people. But you fellows, you astronomers, you never bothered anybody. That's not true. Galileo and Copernicus presented the authorities with a great deal of trouble. I mean in 400 years. Oh.

Oh, Al, help me out. What are you talking about? Her name. It's Maria Cipucci. She's an exchange professor. She's considered the leading poet of her country. She's delicate, ethereal, shy. Clem, are you serious? You attacked her. One hundred people in that cafeteria saw her attack me. Not quite. She passed by your table and you seized her. Why?

Because you're crazy. No, no, no, you're not crazy. You're mentally unbalanced. You're having a nervous breakdown. I can't believe what you're saying. Well, the exchange program between our country and hers, well, a lot of people, a lot of people don't want it to work. We can't have any scandal. You see, they love her back home.

If you can't come off as a nut, we'll have an international incident on our hands. I don't care. The government wants us to preserve our reputation at all costs. How about my reputation? We must all make sacrifices. We? What sacrifices are you going to make? You need a new telescope as the observatory?

We can get a government grant. The answer's no. Albert... That woman is crazy. That's the kindest word I can think of to describe her. She threw herself at me for no reason at all. Think it over. Think of what's at stake. All right, what is at stake? Many things. For one, the foreign policy of our country. For another, peaceful relations with one of the most powerful nations in the world. But, most important, I would say, your job...

Now, Albert, will you think about it? It's always something to think about when the boss puts the proposition in just that light. Well, here we have Albert Morrison, a quiet, retiring professor of astronomy, locked up in an institution for the criminally disturbed, recounting the story of how he got there.

So far, he seems more sinned against than sinning, but you know by now that you never get the full story in the first act. And I shall return shortly with the second. There I was, minding my own business, when this beautiful blonde threw her arms around my neck and started making passionate love to me. I tell you, I never saw her before in my life.

This is the story that Albert Morrison, an astronomy professor, is telling Dr. Florence Mallow, a psychiatrist in a state institution for the criminally disturbed. How did things get this far? You insist you never saw Maria Cipucin before. It's true, Doctor. But you changed your story. I have it here. I know.

That's a lie. This affidavit of yours is a lie? Yes. Why did you sign it? They brainwashed me. Are you serious? Doctor, what do you think brainwashing is? Weeks? Months? A physical and mental torture? Until at last the exhausted and ravaged psyche collapses? No. It can be done in an hour. Even less. By playing on what a man believes in. Honor. Duty. Responsibility.

That's what he convinced me of, finally. Don't threaten me, Clem. Before you fire me, I'll quit. Albert, please. Now, I wouldn't do that, but there are times... Look, look, Albert. A man has to make sacrifices for his country. The more peaceful contacts we can have with her country, the better for our economy.

Albert, it is the policy of our government, our democratically elected government has chosen in relation to her country. And who are you to sabotage relations between us and them? Especially since you believe in peace. This stubbornness of yours could cost friends of yours their jobs. Now you must help us. Albert!

All right, Clem, let's make sure we understand each other. We do, we do. I was minding my own business and she simply attacked me. Now that's what happened, isn't it? Yes, it happened. For public consumption and for reasons that we understand, we're saying that I...

I was the aggressor. Precisely. Now, just sign this affidavit that you've been feeling psychologically disturbed for quite a while and you request psychiatric help. I still don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Albert, we are in your hands. You must save us. All right.

When do I have to go to the nuthouse? Oh, please, Albert. It's a sanitarium. When? Now, I suppose. I mean, why wait? Well, I have some things to take care of. Papers I want to finish. I'd like to work on them tonight. Could I go in the morning? Absolutely. All right, Clem. Goodbye. Albert, Albert, Albert. I know how you feel. But believe me. One day we'll both look back on this. And we're going to laugh.

And that's why you signed this affidavit? Yes. Very well. You returned to your apartment. What did you do? I put some things in order. I wrote another chapter in my book, and then... Yes? Then the bell rang. I opened the door. And she was standing there? Yes. She was standing there.

Oh, my beloved. Oh, no. Please, I'm busy. Why, my beloved, do you spurn me? Reject me? Just a minute. Let me close this door. Very well.

We have no audience like the one in the cafeteria. You have no one to play to. Play! What is this act all about? I love you. You've never seen me before. Admit that. I love you. Look, I understand that you are the great love poet. Poetess, back in your own country. Now, what are you out to do? Get some publicity? I love you. That needle is stuck. I adore you.

I adore you. Why me? I have 10, 15 years on you. What do you want from me? I worship you. Fine. Let it be the way you say. Love, adore, worship. Let's assume that you fell in love with me at first sight. That happens. But I didn't fall in love with you. Take me. I don't want you. You understand? I don't want any woman.

The memory of my wife is enough for me. I must have you. You speak English. Don't you understand it? I will have you. I don't want to be impolite, but I must ask you to leave. I shall never leave you. Please. I was born to love you. Can't I make you understand? It is the will of the gods that I love you. I shall not disobey them. What gods? The gods.

Can't you hear them? No. The gods are speaking. Fulfill your destiny. Love each other. Are you sure you're not writing a poem? We must not. We cannot. We shall not defy the gods. Oh, please, take me in your arms. Please, don't force me to do something. Please.

There's another woman. There was another woman. She must step aside to give you up. She is dead. She claims you still. She must give way. Whether she does or she doesn't, Mr. Puchin, quite frankly, I am not interested in you that way. No other woman shall have you. No other woman does have me. Dead or alive, she shall give you up. Let me call you a cab and you can go home. This is my home. Now just hold on. You are my home.

Isn't that what the goddess Isis declared to Ra, the immortal lord of all creation? I wouldn't know. Obey the gods and love me. Now, look, I am very sorry, but I just can't... But you must. You must love me. No other woman can have you.

Kill you first. Now, just hold on a minute. I must kill you. It's the will of the gods. That pistol of yours is small, but it can certainly do the job, so don't point it at me. Say you love me. I really can't do that. Then die. No, you don't. Now... Now, you let go of that thing, you idiot. I must kill you. Let go. She fired at me and missed.

We struggled. I tried to get the gun away from her, but she was stronger than she looked. It went off and the bullet went right into her heart. She was dead. And that's your story? You don't believe a word of it? I neither believe nor disbelieve it. We have here the task of reconstructing the past. And what is the past? A series of memories that fade and become distorted with time. I don't doubt it. However, the net result of everything you'll discover...

is that I am a psychotic killer. That is one conclusion. There are others, an infinite number of others. According to the district attorney, she came to my apartment to seek justice. I had betrayed her love, her trust. I had used her, and then callously flung her aside. She confronted me, and I killed her. That's one story. Now, it would be better for international relations if I were a psychotic rather than a deliberate seducer.

Therefore, that's the verdict you folks have to come up with. I want your side of the story. I just told it to you. No. You just showed me the orange. What's under the skin? Nothing. What are you holding back? Nothing. Then how do you account for her behavior? I'm not supposed to account for it. The woman was psychotic.

Maria Alexandrovna Chepuchin. Thirty years old, one of the foremost poets of her country. She deals in strong modern images. I wouldn't know anything about that. She is, was, a leader in the movement away from classicism. Her ideas are crisp, current, contemporary. They sparkle with the latest slang, the burst of youthful ideas. Now, how do you account for what she said to you?

It is the will of the gods that I love you. I shall not disobey them. And the gods are speaking. Fulfill your destiny. Love each other. She could have been writing a poem. She was not writing a poem because that is not the kind of poetry she writes. She doesn't write about the ancient gods. It is a completely foreign idiom to her. I can't help it. That's what she said. But why? I don't know. Please, Albert. Albert.

Look, I'm tired. Tired and I'm fed up. I can't fight it anymore. I'm crazy. Okay? No, it is not okay. Let me tell you what really took place. You see, we happened to meet on the campus grounds one night.

And it was just one of those things. I thought she just wanted to lark the way I did. Yes. And she, evidently, she took it seriously. She was a very emotional girl. Then when I said all affairs must one day come to an end, well, she made quite a scene. She actually confronted me in public. Well, the way a hundred witnesses can tell you. She was becoming more trouble than she was worth. And so I simply lost my temper one night and in a fit of uncontrollable rage, I shot her.

For over a month, you have told an entire battery of police officers and psychiatrists one story. One straight, simple, uncomplicated story. And that story insists that she was the aggressor. That you didn't even know her. That she came to your apartment and you were forced to kill her in self-defense. Am I stating the case? Yes. And now suddenly, we have a complete turnaround. You admit you seduced her. Why?

Why have you changed your story? I suddenly decided to tell the truth. Is it the truth? What do you people want? I tell you finally the story you want to hear. The story that will be best for all concerned and it still doesn't make you happy. I want the truth. What's important about the truth? Without it, all of us will be lost. Now why did you change your story so abruptly? Why? Why? Why?

I can't tell you now, doctor, not now. Don't ask me to tell you now, because you won't believe it. How can you? I can hardly believe it myself. I've changed my story because I... because I've fallen in love with you. Oh, I know patients think they're in love with their doctors, but I know you're Dorothy. Dorothy, in every tone of your voice and every light that shines in your eyes.

Dorothy, in your smile. Dorothy, in the way you hold your head. You're Dorothy. Come back to me again. Dorothy, reborn. Why have you changed your story, Albert? Because I'm ready to play the game. The game Joe advised me to play. I'll let you cure me, Florence. I'll let you nurse my sick mind back to health. And then...

Then I'll declare my love for you.

Hey. Hey, it's breakfast time, Professor. Wonderful, Joe. I'm hungry. Hey, hey, hey. Way to go, Professor. Knock them all off. Minerals, vitamins, proteins. The whole church talking about you and that Dr. Mallow. Oh, what are they saying? Positive results, pal. You are now listed as a cooperative patient. You sleep good. You eat good. I feel good. Hey, Doc. Doc.

Doc, keep it up. I mean, look, look, look. I see you finally took my advice. I don't know what you're talking about. That's the ticket. Dummy up. Don't admit nothing, not even to me. But just string her along and you can be out of this joint by Christmas. And Doc, she ain't a bad looking thing.

And the grapevine says, she goes for you. What was there in your behavior that could have inspired her? I don't know. Albert, I thought we agreed never to use that phrase. Instead, we would pause, think, and try to come up with an answer. Obviously, you were doing something to her.

Yes? Something in your manner incited her to... Yes? Well, think. No. Now I better not say this. Say anything that comes into your mind, no matter how silly it may seem to be. Well, it's not something that was altogether of my doing. Perhaps another agency was at work here. What other agency? She spoke of the immortal gods.

You remember she said she was following the will of the gods? The gods. But we are modern, rational people. I'm only telling you what exists in my mind. Well, enough for today, Albert. I'm not tired. Perhaps not. But I am. Yes, I can see that you're tired, my darling. And it's because we are no longer patient and doctor, but lovers. Lovers. Not one word of love has been spoken between us, but each of us knows how we feel.

And soon, soon, my darling Dorothy, I mean Florence, I can trust you with the answer. Because you see, my dearest, I know the answer now. I know now why that woman threw herself at me. I know why she had to kill me. And very soon you'll love me enough so that you'll believe me. Very well. What does he know? Does he really know why poor Maria actually threw herself at him?

If he does, he knows more than we do, and even more than she did. Well, all knowledge is usually revealed in the third act, and I shall return shortly. There are many aspects of love, and at this time, we deal with love not as a sweet, sublime, satisfying emotion, but as a violent, destructive force that brings sorrow and death.

We can't help these things. It's how matters work out for some people and how it has worked out so far for Professor Albert Morrison.

Suddenly, it all falls into place. It's remarkable how so many discoveries occur in a sudden flash of insight. We stagger and stumble in the dark, and without warning, the white-hot idea illumines every nook and cranny of our consciousness. I know why that Maria became infatuated. No, not infatuated, fell in love. Not even fell in love, but was consumed. I know! There's only one answer. And it was so obvious...

All the time I was wearing the sweater. Dorothy's sweater. Dorothy, even in death you'll be the one to save me. Remember that sweater, Dorothy? Remember it was my birthday. I hurried home because your gift was always sure to be something wild and wonderful. Happy birthday, darling. What?

What is that? What do you think? It's a sweater. Well, I know it's a sweater, Dorothy, darling, but what is that all over it? Egyptian designs. Why? Well, because they're bold and colorful and exciting. Why, they look like a walking tomb with all these pictures and lines. You don't like it. I love it. Darling, it's just that you always dress so conservatively. And you're about to change my entire image. I

I'll tell you where I got the idea. See, I was in the library and browsing through a beautiful book of ancient Egyptian culture, and there were these fantastic designs. They're fantastic, all right. Now, this central figure, this woman, she is the goddess Ithaca.

Isis. Really? The goddess of love. She exists in practically all pagan mythology. And you see these little birds? Mm-hmm. And these squiggles that look like snakes and... Well, everything. Well, it's a message. You mean this says something? Oh, yes. These aren't just any wild colors and pictures woven into your sweater. They say something definite and very interesting. Well? Well, you see, the translation was printed right next to the design, and it says...

Memnon, an Egyptian noble of Memphis, joined the Greek general Theistos of Sparta in a war against the Scythians. Who were the Scythians? Oh, a warrior people who lived in what is now the Balkans, parts of Russia. Anyhow, our hero Memnon asked his patron goddess Isis for a charm which would protect them against the wild Scythian warrior women.

Isis did reply, weave my charm into your battle shields and the wild Scythian women shall fall madly in love with your men. And thus... That's what it says? Yes, darling. You can read it for yourself. The idea was that the Scythian warrior women would fall in love with Memnon's soldiers? And thus be conquered. They would just see this design on the shields? That's all. That would do it. Scythia...

Sit here. Well, I better not wear this sweater when there are any Russian women around. You never know about these ancient charms and things. Maybe you better not. If you want the truth, I didn't wear it at all. I was too self-conscious to be seen in it. So I would make excuses. The occasion was too formal for a sweater or the weather was too warm.

Darling Dorothy, she understood, but she never took me to task. I always intended to wear the sweater. A few months after my birthday, she died. She left me. I must make Florence believe the story.

Florence is so much like Dorothy. And Dorothy always believed me. I see you ain't touched your breakfast this morning, Doc. I'm not hungry. Hey, you ain't going back to being nervous again, are you, Doc? No.

It's just that this is going to be an important day for me, Joe. Well, you're doing fine, Doc. Yeah, you got this rap as good as beat, you know. Today is the day that I must tell something very vital to Dr. Mallow. Oh, no sweat, Doc. You know, you can feed that chick anything he wants. She dates you. Joe, could you do something for me? Just name it, Doc. Look, as soon as you can, could you get over to my apartment? I don't have the key. Oh, I know where to keep your things. I can swipe it.

Look, I have a sweater there with long sleeves. It's blue, red, and black, and yellow. Oh, hey, man. With Egyptian-looking designs on it. Now, could you bring it here? Doc, it's done. I know it's hard to believe, Florence, but it's the truth. And so you insist that this charm of the goddess is what made Maria Cipucin throw herself at you? Yes, it has to be the answer. Why? What other answer is possible?

I know I never encouraged her in any way. In any way that you are aware of. She is the one who spoke about the goddess Isis. No, you are the one who said she spoke about it. I have only your word for that conversation. Florence, do you doubt my word? I thought you cared for me. I do care for you, Albert. How do you care for me? The way a doctor cares for a patient? Yes. Or the way a woman cares for a man? My personal emotions are not at issue here. Oh, they are. They are.

I thought you were in love with me. Why? Because I'm in love with you. Oh. Is that all you can say? Oh? Albert, I... I do care for you. And I just asked you how. I don't want to go into that. Not now. Why not now? Because it's too premature. If we're in love, we're in love. How do you know you are in love with me? Love is something you know. You just know. On the other hand, you can still be in love.

With Dorothy. You think I am Dorothy. I know you are not Dorothy. Well, I'm enough like her. I'm in love with you. Now, getting back to the goddess Isis and the sweater. I was wearing the sweater that day in the cafeteria. But why? You said you never wore it. I can prove it. There were witnesses. They would testify to the fact that I wore a crazy looking sweater. Show it to them. They'll recognize it. But why did you wear it that day? Because it was my birthday.

And I couldn't stop thinking about Dorothy. I felt I had to be close to her.

And so I wore the sweater that she had made with her own hands. And there, in the cafeteria, Maria Cipucin saw the design. Maria Cipucin is, was, obviously a descendant of the Scythian warrior women. But we can't prove that she could read Egyptian picture writing. She didn't have to read it. Her ancestors couldn't read it either. It was the power of the goddess Isis that commanded them. How can you...

A man of the 20th century, a doctor of philosophy, an astronomer, a scientist. I'm only telling you what happened. Where is the sweater now, Albert? In my apartment. I sent Joe to bring it. You'll see. You'll read the charm. You'll see how authentic it is.

I tell you, Maria did talk about the goddess Isis. I don't care if she was modern. The goddess Isis possessed her soul through that charm. She lost her will, her reason. I can prove to you that what you are saying is nonsense. That there's nothing to it. How?

Come in. Oh, I'm sorry. I thought the session was over, Dr. Mallow. What do you have in that bag, Joe? It's all right, Joe. Just leave it here. Thanks. And now, please, excuse us. Yes, ma'am. I said I would prove to you that this is nonsense. Now, put on the sweater. But how will that prove any... Do as I tell you. I'll explain later. You're the doctor. All right, now.

Let me tell you why your theory holds no water at all. I deliberately neglected to say something when you told me your story about ISIS. Albert, if it's true, then why? Why don't I... Florence? Florence, is something wrong?

Oh, Albert. Oh, my darling. Oh, my beloved. Florence. Come to my arms. Florence, what are you saying? I adore you. I love you. Tell me that you love me. Yes, yes, yes. I love you. I do love you. Oh, embrace me. Kiss me. Dorothy, Dorothy, I thought I'd never hold you again. I don't know what happened to me. Suddenly I realize I can't live without you. Dorothy, you've come back. Never let go of me. Never. Oh, we're closer, closer.

Oh, my beloved, say my name. There's poetry when you say it. Florence, oh, come, say it. Say it. You're not Dorothy. I'm Florence. I'm your own beloved, Florence. You're not Dorothy. Let go of me. Let go. No. Let go. Don't push me away. I said let go. I must love you. I have to obey the gods, the immortal gods. You're crazy. You're like the other one. Oh, my beloved, hold me. Love me. Don't guard me. You're not Dorothy. I thought you were Dorothy. I was so lonely. You're mine.

You belong to me. I'm sorry if there's been a mistake. Isis orders me to love you. What kind of nonsense are you speaking? And therefore you must love me. All this stuff, how can you, a psychiatrist, be taken in by it? You love me. I can't love you. I love Dorothy. Dorothy! Dorothy!

She must give you up. No. The gods command it. No other woman can have you. I'll kill you first. You're crazy. If I can't have you, she won't have you either. I don't have to listen to this. I will strangle you with my own bare hands, Isis. Give me strength. Don't try. Isis, help me to fulfill thy command. You're choking me. Let's go. Oh, no.

Doc? Doc? You hungry? You gotta eat. I know you hate to be fed. I'll unstrap your hands. Okay. Here. Joe? Yeah, it's Joe. Oh, man. Man, you went and you did it again. I couldn't help it. It was self-defense.

No kid. She was choking me to death. That little bit of a gal. She had the strength of Isis in her fingers. Yeah? I had to hit her. I must have hit her too hard. She fell back and hit her head against... Killed her like that, huh? Hey, what makes you do it, Doc? I mean, one time I dig, but, gee, two in a row. I don't know.

I just don't know. She was okay. I mean, for a dame, she worked hard, you know. She'd come to this country. She was just a little kid. She made her own way, you know. Gotta hand it to her. You say she came to this country when she was just a little kid? Uh-huh. Where did she come from? I don't know. I hear it might have been Russia, Yugoslavia, you know, one of them places. Russia? What's the matter, Doc? That...

That was what she wanted to tell me. Yes, that was what she intended to tell him. That she was also a descendant of the wild Scythian warrior women. And see, the charm would have no effect on her. That's what she intended all along. However, somewhere on the journey between superstition and enlightenment, she became sidetracked.

I, on the other hand, shall return here shortly. What is really different since 3,000 years ago? When the ancients wanted advice, they asked the Oracle of Delphi, who was the priestess of Apollo.

She listened to all the facts and then made her prediction. We, on the other hand, feed our facts into a computer and let the computer give us the answer. Was the priestess of Apollo always right? No.

Is the computer always right? No. But you can always be right... if you listen to us seven times each week. Our cast included Mandel Kramer, Marion Seldes... Bryna Rayburn, and Earl Hammond. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by... your nearby Goodyear Auto Service Center. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater...

for another adventure in the macabre. Until next time, pleasant... This episode is sponsored by my friends at BetterHelp. And I do mean friends, because not only have I used BetterHelp in the past myself, but I've sent friends and family their way too.

yes i have friends we all deal with the occasional stressful situation welcome to life but once in a while the stress and anxiety can either hit us like a ton of bricks unexpectedly or creep in without our noticing until we're suddenly overwhelmed

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We have that much more we're trying to handle without any more downtime or relief. I needed help when stepping into being self-employed full-time as a voice actor and podcaster. It was a bit much to take at first, and it triggered my depression horribly. Better help was there for me. I've learned to walk away from the studio when things get overwhelming or tense. I don't feel guilty now about taking an afternoon nap or an extra long lunch just to settle my brain.

If it gets really bad, BetterHelp is there to get you over the bump.

What I like most is the convenience. You can join a session with your therapist at the click of a button without ever leaving your house, your office, your car, the hot tub in your neighbor's backyard when they're not home, wherever you happen to be. Hey, you do you. You gotta love mobile therapy. And if you don't feel your first choice of therapist is working for you, you can switch to another one. No extra charge. Switch anytime. The important thing is that you find who you feel comfortable with and connect with.

As the largest online therapy provider in the world, BetterHelp can provide access to mental health professionals with a diverse variety of expertise, so you can find just the right person for your particular situation and personality. As a Weird Darkness listener, you get 10% off your first month at BetterHelp.com slash weird. That's BetterHelp.com slash weird.

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I confess. You understand, of course, that your confession will be made public through the radio program Confession. I do. That your name for the purpose of this broadcast will be Martin Everett. Yes, sir. You understand all this, Martin? Yes, sir. I don't think any of them out there, any at all, ever had it happen to them the way it happened to me. But maybe there is someone. If there is, heaven help her. You are listening to Confession, the case history of the young man referred to as Martin Everett as a matter of documented record.

You'll hear the story of his crime experiences told in his own words. Martin Everett, please state your age. Twenty. Twenty-one next month. Your occupation? Student. That is, I used to study. And what were you specializing? In ideas, you might say. Did you attend high school in this city? Yes, sir. Class valedictorian. Big man. Even a scholarship to the university. Was this the only circumstance under which you could go to the university? No, it wasn't. We're not poor. My father's an assistant professor right there on the campus.

English Lit. To me, it had to be a scholarship. It's shoddy work, Martin. You'll have to rewrite it. Look, Pop, it's late. I'm tired. It's not even nine o'clock. You tell time with your stomach, not with a watch. I'm beat, Pop. I know what you want me to be. You were when you won the scholarship. I want a glass of milk. Why won't you learn? I'm sick of learning. It's not for me. It's never been for me. It's for you.

What do you want, a genius in the family? I can't live success for you. I want to be free to be an ordinary guy just once, free from these stinking books. I'm not a scholar. I'm not great. You have talent, Martin. Brilliance even. I got nothing. You'll not speak to me like that. I'm sorry. I feel sick. You fix this essay. Sure, give it here. You'll obey me. You'll go upstairs and redo your work. No, not tonight. Tonight I'm going to walk and breathe some clean air and be myself and forget it. Martin. Fixed.

Martin, please pop for one night. Will you try to understand? I should have stayed home that night, but I guess the crazy way things started to happen, no matter where I went or what I did, it wouldn't have made any difference. I kept walking over to a crummy part of town. I wondered what I'd have been like if I was raised in a place like that. I kept thinking about it, and pretty soon my headache was gone. That was when I realized that somebody was following me. At least that's the way it seemed. I kept looking over my shoulder once I caught a look at him.

He was kind of young, about my age and build. I walked faster and tried to shake him off, but I couldn't. No matter what I did, he stuck with me, right behind me all the time. I got scared, so I ducked into a drugstore. Drugist is in the back. I just want a drink, a root beer. I'm sorry. Fountain's closed. Okay. You expecting someone? Hmm? Oh, no. No. Well, I guess there's no harm in giving you a root beer. Thanks. Thanks.

Could I have it over there in the booth? Sure. Take the booth. Here you are. Martin Everett? Yeah. What? Sit down. Plenty of room. How's your father? Fine. Who are you? Friend. You were following me out there. Easy, kid. Easy. My name's Wally. I'm interested in you. How do you know me? I made a point out of knowing you. Why me?

We were born on the same day, same hour. That's a fact. I had to look up the records once and I saw your name. I got curious about you. You know, you could have been me and I could have been you. Could have worked out like that. Maybe it did. Well, go ahead, drink. Thanks. You live real good, don't you? I live around here, the other side of the tracks. Only around here there aren't even any tracks. That's how tough things are. And I wouldn't have your father on a bet. He's all right. Sure, everything's just fine.

How much money you got in your pocket? Look, what do you want from me? Help. You help me, I help you. We get money. Look, I need a partner. And who do I think of? Brother Martin. In a way, we're brothers. You happy? No. I am. You buy the things you want? Nobody buys the things they want. That's me. Nobody. You, you're somebody. A great big ball of hate waiting to be pitched in somebody's teeth.

You're dope. You're not even free. You want to do a million things and you can't. You're afraid. So? I'm not afraid. That's why I got dope. Me, personally, I got a personal bankroll. That's the best kind. Only now I need help. Doing what? When you need help, we'll get together. Like I told you, I'm usually around. You better finish that root beer. I got to close up. Oh, yeah, sure. Look, you don't happen to know that guy, do you?

What guy? The one that was here. Well, three or four people have been here since you came in. Yeah, I guess. Well, thanks for the drink. Well, it doesn't cost 35 cents, you know. That's all right. Do you keep it? Well, thanks. That's worth one on the house if you come back. Maybe I'll do that. Good night. Good night. She was pretty, the waitress. She smiled when I left. I remember that now, but right then I was thinking about this other guy, this Wally.

It doesn't sit too good when you find out somebody's been watching you, especially if somebody talks as funny as he did. I mean, all that business about me being him and him being me, there was something I couldn't figure out. If he was following me outside, how did he get into that drugstore booth before I did? I didn't meet him again until one night I was studying and my father came home. Martin? In here, Pop. Ugly night out. Too much rain for this season.

Studying, Martin? Mixing Leibniz and Spinoza. What do you get? A headache. Again? It was a joke. I'm glad we don't have to go through another struggle like last week. Now, look, Pop. There's some sweaters on sale at Sullivan's. You got a good price. It's a sale. How much? Fifteen. Dollars? Certainly dollars. Why, it's an outrageous figure for a simple sweater.

Okay. I should have known. Going to study upstairs, Martin? Yeah. Study. Hi. Wally, how did you... What? The window. Climb the trellis. Don't worry about the bedspread. My shoes are clean. Well, it's raining. I couldn't help hearing the little discussion just now. Look, you get out of here. Nobody invited you to this house. I thought we were friends. You thought? Now do I call the police? Not unless you don't want that sweater.

What's that got to do with it? Look, I can guarantee you $20, maybe $30. Just watching and learning. Learning what? You still got that target pistol? Didn't bother me too much. That's a funny thing. It was like I was just picking up somewhere where I left off. The thing that really bothered me was how Wally's shoes were so dry when it was raining out while we went down the trellis. Okay. All you have to do is watch and make sure nothing happens that I don't see. Let's get it over with, huh? Leave it to me.

Well, can I help you, son? A bottle of bourbon. Well, I'm afraid you're a little too young for that. Am I old enough for this? Look now, look, son. You don't mean anything to me, get it? Not a thing. A bullet can burn your stomach, I'll feel no pain. And give me the money in that register. Just the bills. Thanks. Thanks a...

I ran when it was over. It must have been awful panicky because I don't even remember Wally. We just blazed out of that store and he shoved the money in my hand, 26 bucks. You wouldn't think this, but that night I slept real sound, like I was dead or something. For more than a week, I didn't let myself think about what we'd done. Then one evening I was lying on the bed and two things kind of got tangled up in my mind, Wally and the waitress at the drugstore. I didn't have many friends. I guess I didn't mention that, but I didn't and I don't.

Now, there was a kind of a friend thing between me and Wally, and there was that girl. So I went down to the drugstore again. I just went and sat in the same booth where I could watch her. She didn't see me. After a while, Wally was there at the counter talking to her. You're different tonight. I'm different every night. Man of a thousand moods. Man? You look like a college boy. It's just one of my many moods. Some nights you gotta let me demonstrate. Ha, ha, ha.

Great. You want that root beer? I do. I certainly do. What's your name? Joan Andrews. I'm Wally. Wally what? Anything you like. That's my charm. How much for the drink? Told you it was on the house. An elegant gesture. When's your night off, Joan? Next Wednesday. Wednesday for sure. It made me sore the way he acted so smart and smug with her. The way she ate it up.

It didn't help any that she seemed to have me all mixed up with him. I mean, the root beer on the house and everything. I guess we did look kind of alike, though. As soon as she went down to the other end of the counter, Wally came and sat in my booth like he knew I was waiting for him. How's the boy? Fine. Short of dough? So-so. Well, let's go. Look, Wally, I don't want to... What'd you come here for? You came here looking for me, didn't you? I guess so. Okay. Let's get going. You've got something to square away. You know where you are?

You kidding? Sure I know. This is the university. This building right here is Wheaton Hall, the girls' dormitory. The rich ones live here. Those wriggly ones with the football players and the string and ten trunks full of clothes. And jewelry. That's a fire escape, Marty. And an open window up there. Wally, this is my territory. I can get into trouble here. Sure, it's your territory. What do you think we're here for? Those dames ever give you a tumble? You owe them something? No. What are you waiting for?

We went up the fire escape and into the girl's room. She was asleep. At least I prayed she was. A bit of light coming through the window caught her across the face and shoulders. I don't know what it was she was wearing, but it wasn't pajamas. You could see her skin. It was awfully white. Only her closed eyelids were dark and sort of shiny. The dressing table. Take a look. Nothing. First drawer. Good box. Open it. Are they real? Their jewelry is always real. Get going. Holly. Holly.

She's watching us. She's awake. The girl just sat there in bed, stiff and trembling, even more scared than I was. I got out, fast. Couldn't stand the look on Wally's face, or the girl's. It was Wally's idea, not mine. Not Martin Everett. So I made a dash for the fire escape, and I got down somehow. I listened. She didn't scream or anything. I thought that was strange, but the main thing was getting away from there. Soon I was sneaking across my own lawn to the road's trellis. Martin...

Pull yourself together. It's me, Wally. You got out okay? She knew you. I don't think so. I think she did. I killed her. How? With this. You knew I was going to. I did. You are listening to Confession. Before continuing with the documented record of the young man referred to as Martin Everett, the National Broadcasting Company is honored to present Mr. Richard A. McGee, Director of Corrections, Department of Corrections, State of California. Many crimes are committed by persons who are mentally ill.

Schizophrenia or split personality is a common form of mental disease which can lead to criminal acts. Stevenson's story, "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," is the classic example in literature. Tonight's case is obviously that of a schizophrenic, a person who has created an alter ego on whom to blame the crimes he himself commits. The only way to prevent such a person from becoming criminal

is to recognize the clinical symptoms early and seek professional aid before it is too late. Schools, medical centers, and law enforcement agencies in your community would be ready and most anxious to help. Thank you, Mr. McGee. Now to continue with confession and the documented record of the young man referred to as Martin Everett. I looked at the knife in his hand, a kitchen knife. It was ours. I knew the nick on the handle.

Wally disappeared into the night, and somehow I got up the trellis to my room, put the knife way back in the closet along with the jewels, and then I turned the light on. There was blood all over the front of my shirt. I didn't know how I got there. It was Wally killed her, not me. I kept saying that over and over, but I wasn't sure. I tried to figure out about the blood on my shirt, the blood from the murder Wally committed. I thought of everything I knew about him, the way he came and went and sort of took control of everything, the way he said we were born on the same day and we were brothers.

It frightened me even to think about it. That night I didn't sleep so good. Terrible. Just terrible. What's that, Pap? That girl who was killed last night. She was one of my students. What did they say about her? Whoever did it used a knife. Dreadful. The police think it was done by some maniac. But that's crazy. To put it mildly. You going to school with me? No. No, thanks. Right then I began to be afraid all the time. I knew one thing. I had to get away from Wally. I didn't want him coming to the house anymore.

So in a couple of days, I went back to the drugstore to finish it off once and for all. He was in a booth. I've let you do what you wanted, haven't I? No. What you wanted. You didn't object so hard. Look, what if they connect me up with these things? How can they? You're a college boy. You never did anything bad in your life. Well, what about you? If they catch you, will you talk? You ought to know. Besides, I never get caught. Take it easy. Wow, where you been?

Hey, tomorrow's Wednesday. Our date's still on? Well, I guess. Any ideas about what to do? I always depend on the boy for ideas. I got a few nifties. Well, if worse comes to worse, I can think of a couple myself. Want to order anything? A few minutes, maybe. Just send me a telegram. How am I doing, Marty? You treat her nice, do you hear me? Oh, it's to you. Hey, you kind of like her, don't you?

But you don't know about girls like her. Things are different on the other side of town. That girl in the dormitory. What girl? That girl you... Shut up. Think about it, understand? It didn't happen. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. It just didn't happen. Now, when do we go out again? I'm scared, Wally. Now? With me? No. Just when I'm alone. We'll fix things so you aren't alone so much. Now, do like I say. Tonight we've got business. And a lot of nights from now on, I'll be waiting for you outside. Yeah. Yeah.

I guess you will. Uh, can I talk to you for a second? You ready to order now, lover? I think you're confusing me with that other fella, Wally. Oh, man of a thousand moods again. Joan, just don't go out with him. Please. Why? He's dangerous. Well, he better be a little dangerous or I won't go out with him anymore. And I don't be late tomorrow. There was again a mix-up between me and Wally. It's when I first got the idea that everything was wrong, as wrong as it could be.

That night I was at a filling station, I think. Next night, Wally didn't keep his date with Joan. He stood her up. And there was some kind of robbery. I don't remember real well because I was in a daze most of the time. What was real, Wally or me? I thought maybe there wasn't any Wally. Maybe it was all me or part of me. Maybe I was crazy and imagined it all. Why would I do a thing like that unless I was a murderer and a thief? Because I wanted to be. Come in. Martin?

Yeah, Pop? Mind if I sit on the edge of the bed a minute? I'll move over. I've been thinking about you and me. Perhaps, Martin, you're right. We're trying to make something of you that you're not. Yeah, I guess you're disappointed. Yes, I am. What would you like to do? Oh, I'd like... I'd like to be a sharpshooting student who'd win all kinds of honors for you. I'd like everybody to be proud of me. Well, the last part can still be. Pop...

Let me have another fling at it. I'll work. I didn't want to work before, but now I do. I want to make something of myself. I don't want to be what I am now. I don't think that's so bad, Martin. You're a fine boy. I'd like to see us get along better. Yeah, we will, Pop. Well, then, try it again if you want. And if you decide to quit, do something else, that's all right with me. That's a deal. I hit the books again, harder, for a month. Maybe I didn't even think about Wally. I don't know.

Then I got restless. The night I'd toss around my bed and think about Wally and Joan, you know, that waitress. I remembered the way she looked at Wally. I remembered that girl in the dormitory and the way her shoulders looked in the moonlight. I sure wanted to see that Joan again. Hello, Martin. Wally. It's been a long time. Don't leave me alone. That's easy to say. I'm done with that other business. You want some excitement? Be honest with yourself, Marty. What is it, on or off?

You want to get something out of your system or don't you? Please, Wally, nothing bad this time, huh? Nothing real bad. Sure, nothing bad. I didn't go home for dinner that night. I just walked around with my notebook under my arm. I didn't really have any place to go. I thought about a movie, but there was nothing worth seeing. Then I saw one of those bathing suit ads in a signboard, and I thought about Joan. When I got out of the drugstore, she was just leaving for the night. I didn't say anything to her. She didn't see me as usual, so I just followed her.

And suddenly Wally was there again. Ahead of me on the street between me and Joan. He was following her too. She put her key in the door of a slummy little house. That's when Wally stepped forward. Joan! Well, look who's here. Man of many moods. You sure got your nerve. You mad at me? Oh, no. You can stand me up any time you want. Can I at least come in and explain? I don't want to hear any of your wild stories. Can I, Joan, please? I've just got one room here. Anybody else around?

No. People who own the house are away. Can I? Sure. Come on in. Okay. You're a funny guy. What's funny about me? I don't know. You're so moody. But I like you. Maybe it's because I know you're crazy. What did you say? You're crazy. You know, you're crazy. I couldn't stand it anymore. She put her hands on my shoulders. I could feel them there.

But it was Wally's face she was smiling up into. Wally. I hated him then more than I ever hated anything. Because I knew just what he was gonna do to her and what he'd been doing to me. I wanted to kill him. Just kill him. So I slugged him over and over. It felt wonderful. That's what I wanted to do ever since I'd met him. I choked him. My arms and my hands and my shoulders ached, but I kept it up until I was through. Until I knew he was dead. Only when he fell, it wasn't Wally at all.

It was Joan. I killed her. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't. I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook and I began to write, please, please somebody. Please somebody catch me before I kill again. That's what it says, Martin. Officer, I fail to see what that message has to do with my son. Perhaps you'd better wait downstairs in your living room, Mr. Ebert. But I have a right, please. Very well.

Is this your school notebook, Martin? Where'd you find that? The room with the murdered girl. Anything you want to tell me? Mind if I look through your closet? I'll get the evidence for you. Did you do it? That's hard to say. Wally did some of it. He made me do the rest. Who's Wally? Wally? Well, I'm Wally, of course. I guess. You have just heard an actual confession. This case history of the young man referred to as Martin Everett is a matter of documented record.

To protect the legal rights of this person, names and places were changed or deleted. Technical advice for confession comes from the office of the Director of Corrections, Department of Corrections, State of California. In a moment, you'll again hear Martin Everett. The subject was sentenced to life imprisonment under the custody of the State Director of Corrections. Found to be insane, the subject was placed in the California Medical Facility, Terminal Island, where he has been given extensive psychotherapy and electroshock therapy. Now, Martin Everett.

The reason I'm making this broadcast is to try to explain how a terrible thing like that can happen to a person. There's plenty I don't understand about it. A lot of psychiatrists and doctors have tried to explain it to me, but I know this. Wally was still alive that night after I thought I'd killed him. But now he doesn't bother me anymore. Maybe he's really dead. But I guess the doctors will tell me when he is, and then we'll see about me. This has been Confession, transcribed statements of actual crimes.

These true tragedies are brought to you each week as an NBC Radio Network production in an effort to stem the nation's forward march of crime. Credit for this broadcast goes to our cast. Paul Freese, Lamont Johnson, Warren Stevens, John McIntyre, Charlotte Lawrence. Writer, Richard Allen Simmons. Music, Michael Samogi. Script supervision, Warren Lewis. Direction, Homer Canfield. John Wall speaking. Confession, a Canfield Lewis creation came to you from California.

This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.

But once in a while, the stress and anxiety can either hit us like a ton of bricks unexpectedly or creep in without our noticing until we're suddenly overwhelmed.

At work, you're dealing with bosses, co-workers, employees, paperwork, that guy who keeps replacing a real coffee with decaf without telling anybody, and somehow trying to balance that with life at home. Bills, crying babies, critical in-laws, that faucet that refuses to stop dripping all night long like some kind of torture method. It's no wonder 61% of the global workforce nowadays is experiencing higher than normal stress levels.

We have that much more we're trying to handle without any more downtime or relief. I needed help when stepping into being self-employed full-time as a voice actor and podcaster. It was a bit much to take at first, and it triggered my depression horribly. Better help was there for me.

I've learned to walk away from the studio when things get overwhelming or tense. I don't feel guilty now about taking an afternoon nap or an extra long lunch just to settle my brain. If it gets really bad, BetterHelp is there to get you over the bump.

What I like most is the convenience. You can join a session with your therapist at the click of a button without ever leaving your house, your office, your car, the hot tub in your neighbor's backyard when they're not home, wherever you happen to be. Hey, you do you. You gotta love mobile therapy. And if you don't feel your first choice of therapist is working for you, you can switch to another one. No extra charge. Switch anytime. The important thing is that you find who you feel comfortable with and connect with.

As the largest online therapy provider in the world, BetterHelp can provide access to mental health professionals with a diverse variety of expertise, so you can find just the right person for your particular situation and personality. As a Weird Darkness listener, you get 10% off your first month at BetterHelp.com slash weird. That's BetterHelp.com slash weird.

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Good evening. This is Peter Lauren. Man kills passionately out of hunger or anger, out of fear or love. But man also destroys life coldly and impersonally, without rancor, unemotionally, and with but one purpose, to gain.

It is of greed and murder that you hear tonight in a mystery playhouse. Oh yes, guilt has been known to lie heavily on the soul of the coarsest and unregenerate of human beings.

And conscience is an unseen but terrible demon to those whose hearts are set in evil, exerting a grim and unrelenting power over their minds. Tonight our story concerns itself with a price of greed and revolves about a strange and almost fateful phenomenon that forced a man to stand ghastly trial before her jury of the dead.

Listen as we tell you of Captain Boo Harrison and the six who did not die. Far below the equator, where the blinding sun beats with fierce hatred on the endless surface of the sea, lie the lonely islands of the Gandiae Archipelago.

There is no movement in the white, hot expanse of sand and ocean. No movement save the brief, fluttering excursions of flying fish and the few palm fronds that wave languidly above precarious footholds in the scanty soil. Barren and lonely are the Gambiades. And lonelier than most is the Atoll of Mangareva, a strip of sand and grey coral rising from the sea like something foul and festering.

For at high water the tide sweeps over it, and retreating, leaves and its sloping beach, all manner of snails and shellfish that helpless, broil and putrefy under the blazing sun. No trader has ever visited Mangareva, for there is no one with whom to trade. And the gunboats of the Australian Territorial Patrol give it wide berth, for there is no one to watch.

Only an occasional pearling vessel with its crew of native divers ventures within sight of Mangareva. Such a vessel is the sloop Nancy Hale, four days out of Sydney. A weather-beaten hulk with caulking oozing from her open seams, she lies at anchor in the lee of the island. It is sundown and her small boat is returning from a day of pearl diving. The oars stroked by six dark-skinned natives, the cockney mate standing in the bow.

As the boat swings broadside to the sloop, the mate clambers aboard. All right, Kamali. Make up fast for the stern cleat. And mind you don't lose one of those oars overside. Me not ten. Now it is ten. Me do same work all time. Go blimey, stop your even babbling. I don't care whose turn it is. Make up fast for the ship that moans. If it ain't done by the time I get back from seeing the captain, I'll take the eyes off you.

And you mind what I say. Filthy beggars always getting their ends up about something. It ain't one thing, it's another. I give ten pounds right here and now to be lifting a pint down in a red dragon called Blimey I would instead of sweating my blood out in a million miles from civilization. Aye, Captain. Captain.

I like it when there's three sheets in the wind. I'll take a look. Who's there? I keep a shut on bullets. Nobody but me, Foggy. Oh, back already? Well, it's been ten hours under that blasted sun. Ain't that enough? Close the door.

How'd you make out? Eh, not bad. You might invite a chap to have a nip of that there gin sitting on the table. Go ahead. That's the last of it. Oh, blimey, the last of 60 bottles we took on at Sydney. You ain't been bashful about drinking it, have you? You got any objections? Oh, now, now, don't be getting your end up bull, no offence. Why are you drinking? Let's see what you've got for your ten hours. Well, now, I think we've done pretty fair, haven't we? Here's one in your eye.

Ah, nothing like a spot of Dutch gin to set a chap right. Good at that. Too bad there ain't more of it for the old back to Sydney. What makes you think we're hauling back? I thinks we are, Mr. Addison. Faster than the old trouble takers. I thinks we are. Come on out with it. What'd you get? A handful of stinking seed pearls? Seed pearls? Is it not on your life?

Give an eye to these, if you please. Good Lord. Not bad, eh, Mr. Addison? Where'd you get these, Foggy? Fifty yards southeast of Mangareva in two fathoms of water. You know what they're worth. God, they must weigh fifty grains apiece. How many are there? One, two, three, four, five... Eight by my count. That's right. Eight times fifty. Four hundred grains.

All perfect, too. Hardly need peeling. There's a thousand pounds here, Foggy. Maybe more the way the market is today.

By heaven, you're right. We are hauling back. I can do a lot with a thousand pounds. Ain't you forgetting something, Captain? As about me and the natives. What do you mean? Well, the natives get half the catch according to the agreement with their chief, and I get ten percent. Well, figuring rapid and not intending to be accurate, I should say that leaves you four underpounds, not a thousand. Trouble with you, Foggy, is you don't know how to figure. Now, listen...

When we took on this batch of divers, we never dreamed we'd run into a haul like this, did we? Can't say as we did. All right. We figured maybe we'd come back with 50 or 100 grains, not 400. What are you leading up to? How far can I trust you, Foggy?

Well, now, I'd say that all depends on how much it's worth to be trusted. If we get what I think we should for those eight duties, your cut will be 300 pounds, $1,500. God, blimey, enough to take me back to England in style, ain't it? More than enough. Well, it sounds most attractive. How do you plan to work it? Right now, eight people know about this catch. You and me and the six divers. Chances are there are plenty more pearls where these came from.

Must be a natural bed. We got to fix it so's only you and me know the location of that bed. Savvy? I ain't interested in the bed. All I'm thinking about is getting enough to ship back to England. Okay, this is how to get it. You still ain't giving me no details like this, if you understand what I mean. There's nothing to it. We lay over here tonight. Tomorrow morning we tell the boys we're making one last dive and hauling back. I'll go along with you in the small boat so's I can mark the spot. I'll take a belaying pin with me.

They'll all dive in pronto because they've been there before. And when they come up one at a time like they always do... Wham! You get me, Foggy? I get you, fool.

Eve to it, Eve to it. We ain't going to no tea party. You say no more dive. You say we go back. Mind your babbling, comes you even. We got the captain with us today.

He wants to see how you dive. Ain't that right, Mr. Addison? That's right, boys. This is the last dive and then we haul back. Good catch this trip. Plenty gin. For the likes of them, as he's left to drink it. Shut up, you fool. We make only one dive, then we go back. How about that, Mr. Addison? Yeah, one dive, then you're through. They likes that. They're poor beggars. What in your lip, parking a tender business?

We're southeast of Mangareva, about 50 yards off. This the spot? Close enough, I'd say. Shivers! Leave that anchor tower over with it. Are you sure this is the spot, Pocky? As near as I can come to it.

She holding, Taru? Yes, she hold. All right, let her swing with the tide, what there is of it. Water slack. Okay, get him over, Foggy. Here we go, boys. You first, Kamuli. He's got a dive. Here, let's have a look at your ear. Why don't you say something about it before we left the sloop? Wait a minute, Foggy, I'll handle this.

Kamali. You hurt bad, Captain. Very bad. One dive won't do it no harm. I come out here special to see you and your boys go down. Tell you what I'll do. Anything you bring up this dive belongs to you. No split. All pearls yours. How's that? Well, what about it, Kamali? No dive. Stand up in the boat. Stand up, I said.

Now for the last time, Kamali. You gonna dive or not? No, no dive. It'll hurt the body. Maybe this'll cure it. Now the rest of you get over and make it fast. Go ahead. Up, up, up, up. There, that does it. They're over. Hold the boat steady, Foggy. I'll work the belaying fin as they come up. What about this one, you slug? Leave him be till we get rid of the rest.

Hold steady now. I won't be staying down there long, I can promise you. I got a funny feeling no good's going to come of this. Store your feelings and keep the boat steady. That's all you've got to do. I'll take care of the rest.

One little tap of this belaying pin as they come up will be enough. Here comes one. Right outside the boat. Steady. Steady. That does for him. Went down like a rock. Two more coming up. I see them. Ah, that's Mace's thing. See the others? Not yet. Water got roughed up a mile. Hold on. Here they come. Two together. That'll make it easy. Steady now. Steady.

Blimey, did you see the way them two's eyes rolled up? Like they sent the shivers through me. Give me a hand with this one and sew the gap. What you gonna do with him? Keep him over. Wait till I tap his skull to make sure he don't come too.

There ain't nothing synergy about you, is there, Bull? Ravish piece. Lift him now. You all right? Here. Now, get that anchor up.

The job's done. All neat and clean. It ain't done for me. I'll be seeing them poor beggars' eyes rolling up for a long time to come. You'll forget about it once we hit Sydney. There'll be plenty of gin and rooms in the best hotel in town. All I want is to book passage on the first boat back to England. Don't worry about that, Foggy. You'll go back to England a rich man. I got another idea. The money we get for those pearls is gonna be nothing compared to what we end up with.

Now, what's on your mind? You'll find out. Get that anchor up. All set? Right. Bend two on the oars. We're gonna be rich men, Foggy, you and me. Plenty rich. Come on.

Twelve hundred pounds you got for them pearls and me supposed to get my share. And I ain't seen a shilling. And I'm not going to now. Shut up and open the door.

You got the key? No, I ain't got nothing. Nothing for killing six men. Quiet down, you stupid fool. Like to get assigned? Here's the key. Open the door. We're going to be rich men, Foggy, you and me. How's about that, Mr. Harrison? Open the door, I said. Twelve hundred pounds and now we ain't got nothing.

Close the door. Twelve hundred pounds lost. Stop talking about it. I've heard all I want to hear. Oh, you have. It don't bother you that I ain't got no passage money, does it? You think I figured on losing it? I had a system to beat that roulette wheel. Something happened. Didn't work. I told you to stop. You told me. What do you know about it? All I was trying to do was to build that stake up, make us some real money. Yeah. Now we ain't got nothing. Gamble it away, you did. That's more where that came from.

I've got 20 pounds left. Enough to pay for this hotel room, dock charges on the sloop and provisions. We'll go back to Mangareva and get ourselves some more of them big pearls. I ain't going nowhere near Mangareva. Not on your life, I ain't. Why not? Because it ain't got pleasant memories, that's why. I'm quitting. I know a rum deal when I see one. Twelve hundred pounds left in a gambling house. So you're quitting, huh?

What makes you think I'll let you quit? You ain't got no right to stop me. Now I got a right to see that you don't open that big blabbing mouth of yours. I got that right. I knows when I'm well off. I ain't doing no talking. Maybe I'd better make sure of that. Always one for making jokes, aren't you? This don't happen to be no joke. We murdered six men back at Mangareva, you and me. We're the only ones knows about it. I think you better ship with me when the Nancy Hale pulls out in the morning.

Yeah, I think you better. I ain't shipping on no more pearl boats and I ain't going nowhere near Mangareva. Now that's final. All right, Foggy. That's how you feel about it. Open the window, will you? It's hot in here. It ain't a bit hot. You've been drinking too much. Open it anyway. Thanks. Yeah.

Nice view of the harbour from there, Foggy. Pretty with all them lights blinking. Bull, how's about giving me half the twenty pounds you've got left? Sure. Why not? Here. Two five-pound notes. Much obliged, Bull.

If I wasn't so set on going home, I... What are you holding my wrist for? You're going out the window, Foggy. You're going to fall out. No, I ain't done nothing. I want to make sure you won't do anything. Let go of me, fool. Let go. So long, Foggy. Fool. Fool. Twelve stories to the street. You won't talk now, Foggy. Not at all. Foggy.

♪♪

He's off on that jib, Halyard, Dave. More! More! Okay, reef her up. Stand by to heave anchor. Aye, aye. You, Manu, lend a hand with that winch. All right, let her go. Anchor down and hold him, sir. Make her fast. Aye, aye, sir. Make her fast, Manu.

What, sir? Yeah, this is it. We stole the I.I. and the sir business, Dave. We ain't formal on the Nancy Hale. That suits me all right.

That's Mangareva, is it? Ain't much to look at. Best pearl bed in the South Sea is right under us. Won't even bother with a small boat today. Work right from the sloop. Get the divers over. Okay. Manu! Manu! Yes, boss? Get your boys over. Oh, no, good man. Me, head man, go first. You'll learn, Dave. First dive's taken by the head man.

These boys are new to this spot and won't go under till he comes up and says it looks clear. All right. All right, Minnow. Got eight beauties out of here last trip, Dave.

You're going to be real glad you shipped with me. Give him a hand. Take the boat out of here. Quick. Bad water. Shut up! What's the matter with you, Manu? Me, dive. Go to bottom.

Six men down there, dead. You're crazy. No, crazy. Six dead men. They stand up like they're alive. My boys know that here. Bad water. Hey, wait a minute, Manu. What do you mean there's six dead men down there standing up? Like live. They're standing up. But they're dead. I've done enough from you. Shut up.

Now, the rest of you will listen to me. You'll dive or I'll know the reason why. I came here to get pearls and you're going to get them. There'll be no acting up on my part. Dave! Dave, there's a diving helmet and lead shoes in one of the sovereign lockers. Get them out. Test the air hose and the pump. Only thing about diving equipment... Plenty, but I never went down myself. You won't have to. I'm going down. I'll prove to these beggars there's nothing wrong down there.

Everything okay, Captain? Yeah, just about touching bottom. Ease up on the rope a little. Let the rope go, Manu. Easy. Easy. Take a bite in it. That better, Bull? Yeah, much better. Keep that air pump and hand generator going. Don't worry.

Yeah, how's it look down there? Can't see much yet. Gotta get used to it. Lean forward when you walk. You need more rope? No, it's okay. I ain't doing any walking. Well?

Well, I want to do is stay down here a couple of minutes and prove to those native beggars that... Captain, what is it? Pull me up! Hold on that rope! What is it, Bull? What happened? Get me up, Dave! Get me up! No, come here, me! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!

I don't know if I can get me up. We're trying to, Bull, but something's holding you. What is it? I don't know. My feet are shaking down. Maybe it's death, Bull. Oh, no. Last that rope to the window. Move fast. Please, God, mate. I can't get away. We're lasting the rope to the window, Bull. We'll get you up now. Hold on. No, no, like don't. Like don't. Don't. No can do. Rope. Get back to that air pump. Air pump.

No, man the pump. No. Captain Bad. Stay in Badwater. Aye, you fool. They won't man the pump. We can't budge it. Fool. You're stuck just the same as I am, aren't you? Stuck in the asphalt.

That's why you're standing there grinning at me. You can't move. Fool! Fool, listen to me! Sure, I killed you. And I killed Foggy, too. I wanted it all for myself, and I'm gonna get it. Pearls, the biggest pearls you ever saw. They're down here all around me.

I'm not afraid of you. You're dead. Dead, you hear me? All for the love of heaven, listen to me! Worlds all around. Great ones. Go ahead, bring your dirty devil's grin. You can't beat me. You can't. Captain Bull Harrison in the watery courtroom. Facing his jewelry.

The jury with good reason to pronounce him guilty of murder and greed. Oh, poor boy. Down there with the pearls he wanted so much. And the man he murdered to get them. Funny, isn't it? Or is it? Please don't go. Come with me to the green room where the players are rehearsing our next performance. Come. Come. Come. Come.

Hello? No, I'm not Pamela North. I... Hmm. She hung up, as usual. Maybe I'd better practice up on my falsetto. I'm in a hurry this time. Hello? I am not...

Dead. Oh, out the door. Maybe he didn't believe me. No, I'm not Pamela North. Well, of course not. I am. Hello, Pam. Oh, I'm glad to be home, darling. Wasn't the reunion fun? It was awful. Everybody sat around noticing how much older everybody else looked. Post-mortems, huh? Mm-hmm. Darling, is there a man in your life? Of course there is.

You. There must be somebody else. Because I'm pretty sure I haven't been calling myself up and asking me if I weren't Pamela North. Darling, you're not well. I'm in perfect health. Listen, some goon has been phoning every hour and asking for you. As soon as I convince him that I'm not you, he hangs up. Well, that's funny. Well, it's reasonable enough, but... I'm not sure if it has anything to do with...

With the little man. What little man? The one who followed him home. Maybe I should have asked you about the men in your life. Frighten me, darling. The street was so dark and he was so gray, sort of, and indistinct. I ran. Did he run after you? I don't know. I would have. You did. But you slowed up for me. Oh. You answer it. I wouldn't want to disappoint him again. All right, darling. Oh.

Hello? Yes, this is Pamela North. What did you... Hello? I know, he hung up. Probably thinks it's good, clean fun. You know, darling, I am getting scared. Nothing to get scared about. You're beautiful and... All right, darling, wait. Is that your little man coming down the street? Yes, Charlie.

He's looking up at the house numbers. I thought he was only a nasty little old man, but... Come away from the window. What are you going to do? Call the police. Oh, I may just be imagining things, Jerry. My imagination can't be that vivid. There may have been a car backfiring. I know those were shots. I'll take a look. Jerry, don't you go near that window. Relax, darling. No one's going to see me up here. What is it? It's deserted.

Yeah.

I hope. That was our doorbell. Let's make believe we're not home, Jerry. It might be important. That's what I mean. I've got to see who that is. It's silly being terrified by nothing, Pam. You can answer the door if you wish, darling, but I'm going to keep right on being terrified. Well, if you insist. Oh, no. No, I'm going with you. I want to be terrified and company. All right, but get over to one side. I'm going to open the door. All right, darling. This is...

The little man. So it is. Won't you come in, please? Thank you. Shut the door, darling. Uh-huh. Are you Pamela North? Yes, I am. Sherry, he's ill. Not ill. Please, let me speak. They will kill you, Pamela. You need a doctor. You better not brain yourself by speaking. Must be. Don't need a doctor.

I heard them red-line Bart kill Pamela North. That... That... I'm fine. I've got him. He collapsed suddenly. A hot rat cop. I'll lay him down here on the sofa. Get his coat open. Shall I phone for a doctor, darling? No. There's nothing a doctor can do for him. Yes? Chest full of bullets. Yes, he's dead. Oh, poor little man.

He came here to warn you against a murderer, darling. But the murderer got to him first. Well, well, what is all this, do you suppose? Why do you think anyone would want to kill Mrs. Pamela North? She seems to be a perfectly harmless young woman, don't you think? There must be a reason. Well, I'm afraid we'll have to wait for our next performance.

Then our guests will be the famous amateur detectives, Mr. and Mrs. North. Oh, uh, incidentally, we are interested in your reaction to our shows. So why don't you ride to the Mystery Playhouse, Armed Forces Radio, Los Angeles, USA, telling us what you like or don't like or anything you care to say. If you do that, we'd appreciate hearing from you very much. This is Peter Lawley.

closing the doors of the mystery playhouse good night this is the armed forces radio service

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Hello, I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Yes, this is the crime club. I'm the librarian. Mr. Smith's hat. Yes, we have that crime club story for you. Come right over. Hello?

Ah, you're here. Good. Take the easy chair by the window. Comfortable? The book is on this shelf. Here it is. Mr. Smith's Hat by Helen Riley. A very intriguing story of a finger that puts its print on death.

Let's look at it under the reading lamp. It was a bad day for New York City. The worst in a three-week period of early summer heat. And Inspector Christopher McKee was in his office at the Center Street Police Headquarters when the telephone rang. Yes, Inspector McKee talking. Homicide? Yes, I was just going to talk to you about that. What? Homicide. Homicide.

How'd you like to meet a freshly made corpse? Go ahead, mister. Well, go to 1142 West 16th Street, Gilbert Shannon's apartment. I'm not there now, but don't worry. You'll find me waiting for you. What's your name? Gilbert Shannon. Well, I'll be of all the days to be hung up by a lunatic.

Yes, Inspector McKee. Cassidy, get the local precinct for West 16th Street. I want them to check on the nut. Yes, sir. Hold a minute. Inspector McKee, homicide? Inspector. Inspector, my father's been killed. Murdered. All right, lady. Give me the facts. Name, please. Gilbert Shannon, 1142 West 16th Street.

What's that? 1142 West 16th Street. I just found him lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Your name, please? Julie. Will you please send someone over here right away, please? Please? Yes. Cassidy. Yes, Inspector. Never mind calling the local precinct. Get the medical examiner and order my car. I'm going up to that place myself. I walked in, Inspector.

Dad never bothered to lock the door. He didn't believe he had anything worth stealing, except a lot of unpaid bills. And empty whiskey bottles, Miss Shannon, all over the place. We pleaded with him to give up this dingy apartment. Oliver and I begged him. Who's Oliver? My uncle, Inspector. Oliver Gould. The utilities man? Mm-hmm. Since my mother died two years ago, I've been living with him and Tamsin, his wife, in their big house on East 54th Street. They wanted Dad to stay there, too, but...

He was stubborn. Why? He didn't want charity. He wouldn't let anyone help him. Not even Sadist Amora, his oldest friend. Not even me, his own daughter. He seemed to have enough money for liquor, Miss Shannon. That wasn't very often. You see, Dad was a writer. Popular magazine stories. Sometimes he sold one. Then he... Yeah, yeah, I know. Must have been pretty tough on you and your mother. Well, let's see what happened here.

Gilbert Shannon was sitting at that desk working his back to the door when someone came in and cracked him on the skull with a blunt instrument, not once, but six times. Please, Inspector. I'm sorry. It was a vicious crime done by a vicious person, someone who feared or hated your father. But I don't know of anyone... It was also someone your father trusted and was expecting. What? The blows were all on the back of the head.

In other words, when Gilbert Shannon's killer opened that door, your father knew who it was. He didn't turn around, but kept right on working. Inspector McKee, do you realize what you're saying? I always do, Miss Shannon. But it's crazy. Why, Dad's friends were the best in the world. They were always trying to do things for him. I can't think of one... Know thine enemies, but beware of thy friends, a wise old saying, young lady. And in some cases of murder, I've known it to apply to relatives, too.

Let's go. Where are you taking me? Home. I'd like to meet Oliver and Tamsin Gault and Santus DeMora and maybe a man who commits murder and then likes to play ghost.

Julie, I think you ought to go upstairs and lie down. I don't feel like it, Tamsin. She is so right, Julie, my dear. It is no good for you to hear all this talk about murder. Please, Santos. Like Gilbert, she is so uptight. Inspector McKee, you haven't answered my question. Your question, Mr. Galt? About the newspapers. Oh.

I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. What do you want me to do? Keep this matter private. Why? My position, of course. I'm vice president of Eastern Utilities. I don't want a scandal. What are you afraid of? Gilbert Shannon was my brother-in-law. He was married to my sister. You haven't answered my question, Mr. Gold. I don't want his private life made public. It wasn't clean. Oliver. Well, Julie, let's face it. We've been ashamed of him for a long time. Long before your mother died.

Now, why should I be punished for his mistakes? He never did anything to hurt you. He wouldn't even take your pity. Now, there, there, Julie. Oliver didn't mean what he said. Well, Inspector? I make no promises. As an old-time citizen, I think it's bad business to interfere with the press. But my reputation... We'll worry about that later. Where were you this afternoon? At my office. Every minute? Until a quarter past twelve. And I had lunch, and after that... Now, look here, Inspector... After lunch, Mr. Galvin? I... I went for a walk.

A long walk? I was back at my office at a quarter past two. Mm-hmm. Shannon was killed between 12.30 and two. Inspector McKee, if you're intimating that I... How about you, Mrs. Galt? Where were you? On Fifth Avenue, shopping. Buy anything? No. Meet anyone? No. Inspector, I thought you said the murderer was a man. Oh, did I? Never take a policeman literally, Miss Shannon, until he waves a pair of handcuffs. Now, Mr. DeMora... I was in Central Park all afternoon. For work, it was too hot. The weather...

You meet anyone? Only the pigeons and the squirrels, Inspector. Yes, and they can't talk. Signor, it is quite useless to make up a case about us. Not one person in this room had a reason or a wish to dispose of Gilbert. You will prove nothing to the contrary. Nice going. Certainly stick together. I hope you don't have to hang together. Hello. One moment, please. For you, Inspector. Oh, thank you. Yes? Yes?

Yes, Cassidy. Hmm? Where? Okay, put it through the lab. Oh? Good work. Have a check for type. Yes, yes, I'll tell them. Bye. Well, well, well. Everything comes to him who waits. What is it, Inspector? A few things to worry about, Mrs. Galt. A murder weapon has been found. Would one of you like to guess? I'm sick of this, Inspector. You have no right to make us all feel like criminals. All right, all right.

It was a hammer. The postman took it out of a mailbox on Lower Fifth Avenue. What? Tamsen. Don't look at me. I didn't go below 50th Street. But it is quite ridiculous. If one desire to conceal or dispose of a weapon... Haste makes many mistakes. Now, Miss Shannon. Are you going to wave the handcuffs, Inspector? When you entered your father's apartment, did you go out again before I arrived? No. Well, somebody did. There was a fresh smear of lipstick on the inside doorknob. Ha!

You'd make a wonderful fingerprint. Huh? No comments? All right. Miss Shannon, the district attorney has released your father's body for burial. You can make the arrangements. Thank you. That's so awfully kind of you. I've been in touch with all of you. And don't try to leave town unless you're so hot you'd like to spend some time in the cooler. THE END

Well, Cassidy? The funeral services should be start in any minute, sir. Are they all here? They are, Inspector, they are. In that first pew, Mr. Santus DeBorder with Mr. Oliver Galt sitting next to him. Then it's Mrs. Galt and Julie Shannon. Notice anything? It's Hayden they are, Inspector McGee. The way they're rushing that poor fellow's body off the face of the earth. Yes, I thought of that. And him not dead more than a few hours. It ain't decent.

That's what comes of having daylight saving time. If the time was normal... Who's that fellow sitting over there in the last pew with his hat on? Who, sir? Another Hayden. To be wearing a hat in the Lord's house, a hat that's so loud, it's loud enough for the racetrack and shabby enough for a funeral of its own. I told him to take it off. Wait a minute. He seems to be sobbing. Why, so he does.

And all the time I've been taking him from an old, no-good vagrant. Inspector, do you think he might be... Fine, fine. He's getting out. He's coming his way. And sure I'll be the devil's own witness. He ain't sobbing. He's laughing. In a church. And at a funeral, too. Now, see here, you... Let me handle him, Cassidy. What's the idea? Damon and Pythias. The spider on the fly.

Who is less noble than man? You tell me. Nothing and no one.

In the beginning there were serpents and vermin, and today they walk like men. Excuse me, I have an appointment with a nightmare. It's crazy with the heat the poor fellow is. You should have let him go, Inspector. He might be dangerous. Get after him, Cassidy. Oh, sure. Keep a tail on him. I want to know who he is and where he lives. We could have asked him, sir, when he was sitting here. That's not all I want to know, Your Honor. Now get going and report to me at my office. I'll be there all evening.

Inspector McKee talking homicide. Cassidy talking, sir. What'd you get? Well, sir, I tailed that fellow to a broken-down tenement house on 10th Avenue. He's got a room on the third floor. Good. What about his name? Believe it or not, Inspector, it's John Smith. I...

It's happened before. What else, Cassidy? Well, sir, Smith stayed indoors for about an hour and a half, and when he emerged, it was only to lock himself up in a phone booth in the corner drugstore. Did you find out whom he called? I couldn't, sir, but I know he made two calls, Inspector. Yes? It was on the second one that I was able to catch a few words. What were they, Cassidy? Well, sir, there must have been an argument, because all of a sudden, Smith's voice went up, and he said, You'll be there in half an hour, and don't keep me waiting. And that's all. Is it? Did Mr. Smith go to sleep in that booth? What?

No, sir. He came out and walked straight uptown to Central Park. And that, Inspector, is where it happened. What? What happened? Well, sir, he was walking along a path near the 59th Street Lake with me about 50 feet behind him. Yes. Something was wrong with the park lights. Of course, a whole row of them was out. And then... Go on, Cassidy. Well, sir, it was pretty dark. But I could see that hat...

It shone like a beacon light on a dark and empty ocean. Never mind the poetry. Give me the facts to the point. Yes, sir.

Well, just before he turned off the path onto another one, he took off his hat. Yes, yes. Inspector McKee, I've been a member of the force for 32 years. I could retire and take my pension and live the good life of a peaceful man, but I haven't done it. Instead, I have chosen to stay in the service of the department and devote myself entirely... Oh, no, you lost him. I couldn't help it, sir. He took off his hat. But I... But if the park department had fixed those lights at the proper time... He was going to meet somebody and you lost him. I'm sorry, Inspector. I'm sorry.

I'm a broken hearted man. We could have broken this case tonight. Close the books on it. Oh, well, have you had something to eat? No, sir. Well, get something and then come back here to my office. We'll have a good cry together.

Hello, Thompson. Oh, Santus. What are you doing here? I came in for a lonely drink. I saw you sitting at this table. I am delighted. Oliver took Julie and me home after the funeral, and then he went out to keep an appointment. Julie went to bed. I am glad they deserted you, Thompson, darling. It gives me an opportunity. Santus, please. But I am only holding your hand. Is it forbidden? Yes, Santus.

We never know who might be looking. Well, let them look. Do I care? Well, I do. Samson. Stop making a fool of yourself and leave me alone. It has not always been like this. It is now. I... I'm not ready to lose Oliver. Lose? You do not lose something you do not want. That's how I feel about you, Samson. I do not like to hear such talk. Yesterday it was different. You could not stand to live with Oliver. I've changed my mind. And...

If you were a good sport... No, I am not a good sport when there is no good reason. Why didn't you tell me that you haven't got a penny to your name? Is it important? What shouldn't it be? Would you have me divorce Oliver for a marriage without money? At your age? I see. You would rather be with a man you do not love than... He isn't impossible, Santos. A fish. With gold fins.

When did you find this out about me? Last night at dinner. Oliver mentioned that your business was on the rocks and that you were going into bankruptcy. And immediately love flew out the window. I like my daily bread. And butter. You cannot do this to me when I have lost everything. It's unbearable. Oh, stop it, Casanova. Don't you know when you're late? Julie. Why, Santos, I'm surprised at you.

A lady wants to be with her husband, and you keep... What are you doing in this place, Julie? I thought you were home in bed. Did my father know about you two? Gilbert? Don't answer that. I think he did. And he was killed for knowing too much. Am I right, Tamsin? You're completely out of your mind. You were afraid that Dad might tell Oliver about you and Santa. That would have cost you a good home plus a lot of money. Julie, you are not making sense. Tamsin could not kill him. Stop being so loyal, Romeo. She just tore the balcony down. Oh, I'm going home. A good place for you, Tamsin.

Maybe you can find the hammer that used to be in that second floor closet. What? I looked for it tonight. It wasn't there. You might ask one of the servants about that. Shall I ask one of the servants about my lipstick, too? Look here, Julie. I've had enough of your nasty little insinuations.

If anyone had a motive for killing your father, you did. He made your life miserable, and he destroyed your mother. He killed her. Tamsin? You know how she died. She didn't fall in front of that subway train. She threw herself. No. No. And the next time you feel like accusing someone of murder, think of the consequences. All of them. Good night.

It is true, unfortunately, Julie. Gilbert was my oldest friend. But sometimes even I did not understand it. Come, I will take you home to Oliver's house. Yes, yes, two reservations on the Midnight Plain. Splendid. Mrs. Galton, I'll pick them up at quarter to twelve. Thank you.

Really? Yeah, Tamsin. I didn't hear you come in. Where are we going on such short notice? Mexico. Why? The newspapers have got hold of Gilbert's case. By tomorrow morning, all the filth in that man's life will become public gossip, and I don't want to face it. Of course. But why must we go tonight? Because I decided. Now let's pack. We've very little time. I...

I can't go, Oliver. What? Now, look here, Tamsin. Now, please listen to me. I can't leave Julie. She needs me. Oh, she'll get along. You don't know how she carried on tonight after you went out. It wouldn't be fair to desert her at a time like this. But I... Oh, well. All right, I'll phone the airport for another reservation. No, Oliver. Julie needs time to organize herself. She's had a terrible shock. Why don't you go alone? And we'll join you in a few days. Well... You won't have to face the publicity, and I'll have a chance to help Julie.

Yes, yes, very well. I can wait for you at the Continental Hotel in Mexico City, and from there we can go on to... That's a good idea, Tamsen. Will you phone the airport and cancel your reservation while I go upstairs and pack? Of course, darling. Hello? Police headquarters? Inspector McKee, please. Inspector McKee? This is Tamsen Gault. I came home a few minutes ago and I found that my husband has disappeared. Yes, two of his suitcases are gone.

Well, I phoned the airport, and I was told that he'd made a reservation on the midnight plane for him and me. Well, I don't know why he included me, but... No. No, I didn't cancel it. I didn't want Oliver to become suspicious. Yes. You're quite welcome. Goodbye. You just made a serious blunder. Oliver. You should have called the airport first. Now Inspector McKee will know that you were lying. Oliver. Oliver.

Put down that candlestick. It was all worked out in your precious little mind, wasn't it? Julie needed care, loving care. I didn't mean that, Oliver. I'll call the inspector. I'll tell him... It's too late, Tampson. Would you like to know how much I really love you? Oliver, please. Please give me a chance. As much as I hate you now. You won't kill me. Somebody's listening on this phone now. Oliver. Oliver. No. Yes, Tampson. Hello? Hello? Hello?

Oh, I'm tired, Cassidy. It's been a long day. Sure, but wouldn't you be feeling good enough now to eat that sandwich I brought you for your good appetite? Oliver Galt. Big utilities, man. Making a getaway. Every day a new surprise. Won't he be getting one when he finds the airport's loaded down with cops? Yes. You know what I'm saying? Are you sure? You've got to be sure.

Okay. What's the trouble, sir, if you don't mind me asking? Those fingerprints we found on the doorknob of Shannon's apartment, Cassidy. They ain't good. They belong to a John Ravillo. I don't recall no such name, sir. The San Diego Confidence Man arrested 21 years ago, broke jail six months later, was never found. Well, well, that sort of changes the picture, don't it? Ravillo. Could that be a Spanish name? I don't know. On the other hand, it's possible that a fellow who calls himself John Smith...

And laughs at the church funeral, might you? Yeah, yeah. Anything's possible now. Inspector McKee, homicide. Cassidy. Grace. Yes, sir. What, uh...

That's a joke, mister. We meet again, Inspector, and again it's bad news. Uh, tell me about it. You know who this is? A ghost of Gilbert Shannon. A toast to the wise. Death begets death. And when it's murder, there can be no end except in death. What's that? It's happened again.

But now it's a beautiful lady. Young, charming... Who was it? Tamsin Galt. What? A horror of horrors to be snuffed out in the prime of life. Now, listen, you. If this is a gag, I want to... Goodbye, Inspector. I assume your next stop will be the Galt Mansion on East 54th Street, which is now a tomb.

Cassidy. Cassidy. It was on the way, Inspector. That car was made from a booth near the guardhouse. Never mind that. Pick up Smith and hold him here until I get back, if I ever do. Let's keep talking, Miss Shannon. I've got work to do. Well, I didn't know what had happened until you came to the house, Inspector McKee. Soundless tomorrow brought me home, and I went straight up to my room. Where'd he go? He left me at the front door, Inspector.

Well, all right. I'm satisfied. I think we'll wrap up this candle holder now. The fingerprints on it should tell us who struck the first blow. The first? Yes. Tamsin Gault was not killed by a blow on the head. She was smothered to death. Good heavens. By someone who held her nose and mouth while she was unconscious. But how can you tell? Those swollen veins in her neck and the color of her face. How dreadful. But who? Anybody. Anybody.

It didn't require courage or strength. I see. What about Oliver? Huh? Why do you mention him? He might have found out that Santos and Tamsin were... Well... Oh, one of those things, huh? Did your father know about them, too? He must have. The hammer he was killed with was taken out of this house. Oh, thank you. Why didn't you talk about it sooner? I didn't know until a few minutes ago. Mm-hmm. I went to the second floor closet to look for something, and I found that... Shh. We're having company. Tamsin?

That's Oliver. Perfect. Meet him in the hall and don't tell him what happened. Don't? Go ahead and do as I say. All right, Inspector. And leave that door open. I want to hear everything. Oliver? Julie. I was just going upstairs. Where's Tamsen? Oh, she's indisposed. Indisposed? I just don't understand that woman. An hour ago, she wanted to fly to Mexico tonight. Mexico? Yeah.

What are you talking about? I rushed down to my office to get these papers. I thought I'd combine pleasure with business. And now, is she upstairs? No, Mr. Gove. What? She's waiting for you in the living room. Inspector McKee. Would you like to see her? Of course you would. Now, come on. After you've had a good look, we'll take a trip downtown to police headquarters. And you too, Miss Shannon. If you like. I like. And while we're driving, we'll pick up Mr. DeMora and give him a lift too. Santos?

But why? Your alibi, Miss Shannon. And to you, Mr. Galt, a mathematical problem. The outside angle of a triangle. Excuse me, Inspector. What is it, Catherine? I just got a report on this candle holder. No fingerprints. It was wiped clean. All right. Stay here with Smith.

I'm going into the next room to pin down a murderer. Inspector, I'd appreciate a drink if you have one. Great, great. Give him one, Cassidy, from that water cooler. No, not that. I need something. Well, Inspector McKee, are you ready for us? For one of you, Miss Shannon, an escaped convict by the name of John Ravillo. What are you struck down? What about it, Mr. DeMora? Would you like to enlighten me? I have never heard of the gentleman. Hmm.

How about you, Mr. Goff? I don't know him. I don't recall ever having met him. Well, then suppose I give you people an assist. Here's an ink pad. We'll take some fingerprints. Who'll be the first volunteer? You, Mr. Goff? Well, all right. I'm John Revello. Oliver! But I didn't commit murder. You yourself told me that Tamsen was smothered. But you made it possible by cracking a skull. I had no choice. We quarreled. She flew into temper and picked up a knife. You can do better than that.

But first, what about Gilbert Shannon? I thought he was blackmailing me. He was the only one who knew my real identity. I went to his apartment this afternoon for a showdown. I couldn't tell you that because... Well, because Gilbert was already dead when I found him.

I was afraid. My criminal record, you know. I know. But I also know that Shannon was not blackmailing you. What? Just a minute. Smith, come in here. When the law beckons... And put your hat on. ...spoken like an old friend. That's the man. I paid him the money. Paid? You paid me? All right, Smith, you can relax. But I told you, Inspector, I was the bait the spider used to lure the fly in.

When I saw them today in church, sitting side by side like Damon and Phileas, I... Inspector McKee. Huh? What is it, Mr. DeMora? Could I have a glass of water, please? Sure. But first, give me what you have in your hand. You have no right to... We'll talk about that some other time. Pills, huh? Poison.

Sit down, Mr. DeMora. It's your turn to talk now about a double murder and no double talk, if you know what I mean. I just can't believe it. Santos DeMora, of all people. Your father's oldest friend. Know thine enemies, but beware of thy friends. And Oliver, an escaped convict.

I knew that Dad had met Oliver in San Diego. He didn't meet him, Miss Shannon. He helped put him in jail. Your father was one of those energetic newspaper reporters who liked to play detective, too. But Dad married Oliver's sister. Yes, one of those things you never understand.

Got the whole story from Smith. He was Gilbert Shannon's editor. Then he knew. Yes, but liquor and hard luck put a cloud on his mind. So when he met Oliver Galt after 20 years, he didn't recognize him as John Ravillo. And he collected the blackmail money and turned it over to Santus DeMora. For a whiskey pittance. Smith had to have whiskey. Inspector, how did Santus find out about Oliver? DeMora told me he got it from your father during a moment of whiskey weakness.

But why did he kill him? For protection. Your father was the only one who knew all of his past. But DeMora was blackmailing him. But why did he kill Tamsin? To frame you, my dear, for both murders. What? You quarreled with Tamsin in a restaurant. DeMora was present. He told you about that, too? Mm-hmm. Well, he's very clever, I must say. Mm-hmm. How did he get into the house? I left him at the front door. He unlatched it while you were saying goodnight.

Oh. Well, that explains everything. Just enough. Calling Inspector McKee. Calling Inspector McKee. Oh, what now? Hmm? Another murder? What is it? Excuse me, sir. This is Cassidy. Hmm? There's a question that's preying on me mind. And if you'd be good enough to answer it... Sure, sure. Anything to go home and go to bed. Well, sir, it's about them telephone calls that Smith not made to your office about their murders.

Why did he do it? An old newspaper man and a lunatic. He couldn't resist a scoop. But how could he know about them, Inspector? Very simple, Cassidy. He was in the right place at the wrong time. Yes, but I... Good night. Good night, Cassidy. Stop worrying about trifles. The case is closed. And so closes tonight's Crime Club book, Mr. Smith's Hat.

Based on a story by Helen Riley. Stedman Coles did the radio adaptation. Roger Bauer produced and directed. Inspector McKee was played by Raymond Edward Johnson. And Julie by Elaine Kent. The cast included William Podmore, Eleanor Phelps, Paul Hammond, Sherling Oliver, and Barry Thompson. Oh, I beg your pardon. Hello. I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Yes, this is the crime club. I'm the librarian.

Yes, come over a week from tonight. Good, we have a very unusual story of a charity ball at which the principal gift was death. It's called Murder Goes Astray by M.V. Heberden. In the meantime? Well, in the meantime, there is a new Crime Club book available this week and every week at bookstores everywhere. Yes, it's available now. Fine.

And we look for you next week. And by the way, the next time you sit down to enjoy a good show, think of the million and a half men who are trying to win the peace throughout the world. And yes, think of the 199,000 who helped win the war and are still in the hospitals. They like a good show, too. So keep them going with good USO entertainment. They still need USO, and USO is you.

This program came from New York. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System. This episode is sponsored by my friends at BetterHelp. And I do mean friends, because not only have I used BetterHelp in the past myself, but I've sent friends and family their way too. Yes, I have friends. We all deal with the occasional stressful situation. Welcome to life.

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Riley Herbst from 2311 Racing here. And you know what grinds my gears? Waiting for coffee. But instead of counting frappes and lattes, I fire up Chumba Casino. No apps, no fuss, just fun social casino games to pass the time. By the time my coffee's ready...

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Well, the boys are getting worried. We're outflanked. You know that. Sure, but the boys are holding them on the sides. I think the situation is impossible. Well, it's up to you, Captain. We allow these gooks to get in any closer without we don't call up for bombardment of their lines. We're in trouble. I think we should surrender. Did I hear you right, Captain? I said we should surrender. You ain't giving no command to get in there. I am giving no such command.

Men, it's useless going on as we are.

Anyway, we are fighting people who are friendly to the United States. I order you to lay down your arms and walk over to them. There'll be no bloodshed that way. What, Sally? Like heck we will! Hey, man, man! You didn't forget about what the captain said? He's just been hit by something. Open fire! Return fire and drive them kooks away! Collins! Radio back for help!

This is the northeast, 41 degrees, 800 yards. Right, sir. Look, I don't know what got into Captain Nesbitt, but I'd better tell the back at headquarters what's going on here. The Sons of Darkness. Lee Masters, FBI, who wages relentless war against crime. Lee Masters, the blind detective who challenges...

The Sounds of Darkness. It's the position. We in Cambodia welcome you here. It is sincerely to be hoped, of course, that your military incursions into our country are short-lived and beneficial. Thank you, Mr. Watt. I am here representing the government of the United States, as you know.

Thank you.

Think we can take a powder leak? Yeah, I think so. Honestly, the kicks we get ourselves onto. You, me, and three other FBI guys are playing nursemaid to the Assistant Secretary of State. This turn is vital, Johnny. We happen to be at a loose end, so here we are. Well, at least we're seeing something of a new country. Gooks, gooks, and gooks. A waste on you. What is? Your eyes. Oh, heck, I'm taking things in all right. It's just that all this country seems the same to me. Still something worth seeing. Let's make it back to the hotel. Okay. Okay.

You leaving us, gentlemen? Yes, sir. The three other guys will stick around. I don't anticipate any attempt in my life, thank you. We'll meet you back at the hotel, huh? I should think so, Mr. Leavitt. Good night. Good night, sir. Good night. I'll lead the way. Sure, Johnny. You want me to bring the car up? No, I'll walk with you. Funny country, this. Not only the people are different, everything else is different, too. Clothes, shops, the lot. Huh.

It happens in other lands. At least we're not likely to run into any trouble here. You had to open your mouth. How do you mean? Trouble has a habit of seeking us out, Johnny. Well, not here, I hope. You never know. The car right here? Yeah. It still beats me how you do it. Practice, Johnny. What are you sniffing the air for? Oh, just trying to ingest the atmosphere of the place. It may be picturesque, but it stinks, let me tell you.

Hey, seems like a disturbance down the other side of the street. Voices, angry. What gives? Someone's coming up this way, running this way. Hey, wait a minute, he's totting a gun. Lee, he's gunning for us. Get him. He was aiming for me? Yeah. Okay, now settle down, everyone. Hey, can you call a cop over here? You know, a policeman. Police, get it? Call one right now before we get ourselves lynched or something. Hey!

I guess it figures, though how the heck they got wind of it, I'll never know. I think you better take it again, Colonel. Right now, I'm still a trifle hazy. Okay, I'll recap briefly. We heard, Lee, that you were coming out on this junket with the Assistant Secretary of State. I had cabled through the state, said we wanted some help, some kind of intelligence man to help us with the problem. So no thought with the brainwashing? Well, sure. We picked up that you were here, so we intend on making contact with you, asking your help.

Stateside, they couldn't offer much help, not for the time being. So you seem the guy on every count. Thanks. You told anyone about your decision to ask my help? Only a couple of people. But somehow they heard about it, and... Man tried to gun you down in the streets this afternoon. They must be worried. Who did you tell? Captain Jimmy Weston and Lieutenant Will Kane, officers known to me. And friends as well. They around? Sure thing. You want to talk to them, Lee? Not right now, Johnny.

Colonel, what exactly is your problem? Well, like I told you, it's kind of strange. We've entered Cambodia, right? We've met token resistance, mostly, but here and there we've come up against pockets of hardcore communists. Not Cambodians, necessarily. In fact, most of the bodies we've found have been, well, Vietnamese. Each and every time there's been close contact with the forward positions of base or headquarters, there's been no trouble. The pockets have been wiped out, in other words.

But where the front line has been extended and literally just about stranded on its own, there has been trouble. What you're trying to say in a roundabout way is that your own men are defecting. Not defectingly, but willingly compromising. Four cases where the men in charge have refused to carry the fight to the enemy. In fact, they've advocated open surrender. And Captain Nesbitt is the last instance? Yeah.

Lucky the top sergeant bopped him, one knocked him down and took over. Right now Nesbitt is in hospital. His mind seems to blank. It could be brainwashing, Lee. So many instances? I was worried you were enough to cable the states and think of using us. Now we're here. Yeah, I know. How the boys are being infiltrated and eventually got at, I don't know. You employ Cambodians at your camps, Colonel? Sure. Menials.

They wouldn't and couldn't get the officers under my overall command. And if your officers get captured, returned to duty? No, we're on the watch for that all the time, ever since the Korean jazz. So it's one of your own men, somebody at base headquarters who has access to forward and rear positions. Colonel, first off, I'd like to see Captain Weston and Lieutenant Kane.

After that, I want a breakdown from you of all your active liaison officers. Especially those who've been more pally with your front-line commanders than would appear necessary. And then I want to... Okay, Captain Weston, that'll be all. Oh, thank you, sir. Johnny? Yeah? Any reply to that cable you sent off to Ames? Nothing yet, Lee. It should be through soon. He seems okay. Yeah, so does Lieutenant Kane. I think the colonel inadvertently must have let slip he was thinking of using us.

To someone else, I mean. Unless they're covering well. You know, Johnny, they try to gun us down, which means that this is on a big scale. Can it just be officers defecting in the field? I wonder. I wonder if it isn't something more than that. Such as? I don't know. Right now. Let's go down to the hospital. I want to talk to Captain Nesbitt, the guy involved in the last incident. Come on, Johnny. Well, I just felt it was all futile.

A lot of our boys are going to get themselves killed. A lot of the other side are going to get themselves killed. You're a soldier, trained to kill if necessary, and certainly to order killing when necessary. One may not agree with what you do, but that is your profession, Captain. Killing. Why the beef now? I don't know. Just struck me as being futile, that's all.

You know you're being posted back to the States, that you're gonna be the subject of an inquiry, that you'll be discharged from the army dishonorably. Frankly, I couldn't give a darn. Now, would you guys like to shove, leave me alone? What were you before your call up to Vietnam and here, Captain? A lecturer, University College LA. Make any difference? Uh, lecturer in? The classics. Okay by you? Sure. Get well, Captain, and good luck.

You're gonna need it. What do you think, Lee? A case of battle fatigue, Johnny. Captain Nesbitt is a softy, basically. Because of his background, he gets elevated up the ranks fast. He's a pacifist. War revolts him. So it suddenly broke out in him. And all the jazz the sergeant reported? About our boys fighting people friendly to the states? Sounds like brainwashing, I know. But it is in Nesbitt's character to say just that.

So, where do we go from here? Nesbitt was our only lead. The other guys concerned have been shipped back to the States already. A problem within a problem. Let's go see the Colonel. Right now, I wonder if we're not running around in circles and have been made to do just that. I can't say that I'm pleased, but... Well, it'll be good to see the family again. How long will you be staying on, Colonel? Just a few weeks and then back again. I say it's gonna be strange to retire.

I'm a young man, in my own mind, anyway. Well, one has to accept the inevitable. Are you going to call off your investigation now? Yeah, I guess so. We haven't gotten anywhere. Well, I'm sorry about that. I'll get the new commanding officer to keep a lookout for things. Sure. You don't mind, Colonel. We'll come with you to the coast, just for the journey.

Where do you link up with the Assistant Secretary of State again? At the coast. Uh-huh. Well, I'll see you there, then. On the other hand, we may stay on here a bit. Get to know the new commanding officer. Get his views. Sure. Why don't you do that? If you don't mind, I'm heading off soon, if you'll excuse me. Sure. And thanks, Colonel. Sure thing. Sorry I called you out on a wild goose chase. Okay. Lieutenant Kane will attend to anything you may want. Sure.

We can get an army aircraft to take us back to the coast, Lee. Johnny, what exactly has happened since we've been here? We've questioned a few guys as all, gotten nowhere. Now, all of a sudden, the colonel gets his retirement papers through. So? So, nothing really. Johnny, you know how the feeling is about Vietnam. Our boys fighting here and elsewhere. Sure, the demonstrations, the rioting. Each and every occasion of, well, what the colonel called brainwashing.

Commander's not willing to fight in action could be quite natural. A remarkable coincidence, sure, but it could happen. Meaning? Meaning that there is no brainwashing. Or that the Colonel is brainwashed. What? Why, you heard what I said. Are you checked with the States? Nothing against him. Family man. Due for retirement soon. It happens to have come right now. Not a very intelligent man, frankly. A run-of-the-mill Colonel in the Army.

Let's say someone works on him. Who, for heck's sake? I don't know yet. All that baloney about wanting to use us to help him. The cables back to the States weren't made, Johnny. Now he tells me. Something I found out only this morning. So he's talking baloney.

Johnny, maybe he was made to talk baloney. By whom? Someone near him. Maybe Captain Weston or Lieutenant Kane. But you shoved them so fast out of this office that it didn't even look like you cushioned them. Sure. Tactics. So what's going on? You tell me.

Well, first off, I want to know how a guy like the colonel can be brainwashed. He's not pacifist. He's an old army dog, whether he's particularly intelligent or not. Implanted hypnotism, maybe. Not brainwashing as such. At least not him. Okay, so he's going to do something. He's going to the coast. He calls us up here, hopes we'll stay on with the investigation he planted on us. Why? Again, you tell me.

To bump someone off? The Assistant Secretary of State, Levitt? You think so? That could cause a rumpus. Nixon gets uptight, sends more troops down here. Cambodia gets more involved. Communist China has more to level at us. That's good thinking, Johnny. Yeah, it could be that. But think of the calendar. What about it? September 3. Cambodian Day of National Rejoicing. So? We'll leave it at that for the time being.

Go see Lieutenant Kane, Johnny. We're not flying to the coast. We're going down by truck. He's coming with us. Why? Because he has peculiar eyes, that's why. Arlene, now how the heck did you... You told me so yourself. Wild eyes, intent. Yeah, I guess I did. You think he hypnotized the colonel? Maybe. Yeah, enough of these riddles. Go find the lieutenant. Get him to fix things now.

You guys could have flown to the coast. We prefer going by truck. Yeah, I think you're crazy. Well, thanks for the compliment. Anytime. Heck, I'm not trying to be insulting, but I do think you're acting crazy. You could have flown down in comfort like the colonel did. How old were you when you fought in Korea, Lieutenant? I asked you a question. Huh? Yeah, yeah, well, sure. Eighteen. Why? You were taken prisoner, weren't you? For three days, yeah. How do you know? Checked.

What was it like? Okay. Why? I'm just asking. You didn't ask enough questions before, maybe? No. Uh-huh. I get it. Like this trip down in the truck as a group session. Sure. I could stop this truck right now. Do that and I'll be forced to get angry. Okay, Lee? That's right. It's what's known as brainwashing, Lieutenant. He does the things I want.

What gives, you guys? What's the setup? With whom, why, what and how? Don't give me the business, boy. You could be in trouble. Either you or Captain Weston leaked out that we were coming down here. You? No. Who? Maybe the colonel himself. Who gave him the idea they'd been brainwashing? How the heck do I know? Maybe he just thought that, huh? Sort of reflex action, thinking back to Korea, thinking back to the kind of experience you had.

Now the Colonel has little imagination. He would fall back on old hat. You said something there. The experience I had. How'd you know what I had? Three days behind their lines, the Koreans, aided by their Chinese mentors, were known to have brainwashed some of our boys in 24 hours flat. Starvation, water treatment, kind of hypnotism. Then...

Adjustment to Marxist-Leninist thinking. You guys nuts or something? Nothing like that happened to me. You open your big mouth that Lee and I were coming down here? No. You're a career man, Lieutenant. Somewhere along the line, you found yourself a hang-up. Don't ask me what it was, but you live for the Army. This much I do know about you. So what? So you could have blabbed about the stupid FBI coming down to investigate something that was purely of military concern.

The Colonel said he sent off cables to the States asking for intelligence guys to come on out. They didn't get sent. That was your department. Why didn't they go? Because... Well, because he was being stupid, that's why. Who wants you guys in? We had ourselves a few yellow bellies. Nesbitt and others. I was taken prisoner way back when. Did I squeal? No.

There hasn't been any brainwashing around here. If there has, we can deal with it. Who did you tell about our coming down? How the heck do I know? You almost cost me a bullet in Sang Tao. You know that? What do you mean? Exactly what I said. Some guy took a run at us, gun in hand. Johnny here shot him down because you opened your big mouth. Well, I didn't expect that to happen. Level with me, boy. You've been working on the colonel.

No, no, I swear I haven't. Because someone's going to do something, either to our Assistant Secretary of State or, you know, anything. No, I swear it. I believe you. All right, how fast can you drive this tin can? Fast enough. Then get us to the coast fast as you can. I want to be there tonight, in time for tomorrow, 3rd September. Later. Later, Johnny, later. Kane, get this crate moving. And while we drive, let's talk. Talk about what? Back to square one.

Whether you like to admit it or not, you've been a catalyst. One, for someone to take a gun out at me. Two, for someone, someone, to brainwash himself automatically from what he's heard you saying. I don't get it. Let me explain. Now, let's take a pacifist, someone who isn't exactly a 4F or an objector, someone who comes along for the ride, for the experience of it.

He's heard about gooks, Koreans, Vietnamese, Chinese, and now, Cambodians. He believes they're all evil. Until a man like you, who's been through the mill, tells them that not every man taken prisoner in Korea or here and up north is brainwashed. That the other side is human, sometimes. Yeah? Carry on. All right, let's say someone who, of his own mental upbringing, can ally himself to the cause of...

Well, settling things. A pacifist with ambition, if I can put it that way. You mean someone who wants to take things into his own hands? Exactly. You're a liaison officer between base and front line. Who would strike you as being most receptive to you and to their own kind of Pacific megalomania? Well, I don't know. Maybe... Wait a minute. He and I used to talk often. He and I used to...

Yeah! Don't tell me who it is. I know. That's why I've given him free reign. Even kidding Johnny along. For which many thanks? Levitt, Johnny? I'm not with you anymore. Mentally, I mean. You will be. Let me tell you about it. Who's the guy who's going to give the speeches? President of Cambodia. Who else? Did you talk to that chief of police? Sure, like you told me.

So it isn't Levitt, the Assistant Secretary of State? No, Johnny. It's the big prize. The President himself. It must be.

Imagine what would happen. Chinese intervention, the national interests of Cambodia must be safeguarded, the states, with all its imperialistic might, couldn't save the situation kind of thing. So who's going to do it? Colonel? Lieutenant King? No, Johnny. A guy who's down at the coast right now on his way back to the states for dishonorable discharge. Captain Nesbitt? Of course. Thing is, Johnny, in this crowd, we've got to find him. We don't find and stop him.

There's trouble. Lee, you've given him too much rain. We should have kept surveillance on him. I wasn't sure in my own mind. President Nam-Too Kim? You've got the eyes, Johnny. Use them. Tell you something, the captain never was a good shot, I'm told. It'll be from close by. Wait till the president stands up to give his speech. Then I'll have to act fast. Their police are good. You give them a description? Sure thing.

You told me Nesbitt was left-handed. You told me he smoked that way. The way I feel it, the sun is shining down from our left now. That's right, sir. And he'll be close. Okay, on the edge of the crowd on our left.

Now we're near the rostrum, say about 20 yards back along the line of the crowd. He'll come out of the crowd to fire, left-handed. Army revolver, most likely. I'll move up. Yeah, you do that and hurry. The president must be just about set. Hurry, Johnny. My people, we are gathered here on our national day of rejoicing.

It gives me much pleasure to say that I have with me Mr. Leavitt of the United States. He represents to us our allies in all their might. We are a peace-loving country, but there are times when force must be met with force.

Such a time recognizing the value of our ally, the United States of America, is now.

Should happen just about now, I reckon. Why, Lee, why didn't you ask for an official box? I could have got you one had I known you were coming down so soon. You finished the investigation up there, huh? Aye, Colonel. Excuse me a moment. Get out!

I don't think the president will finish his speech after all. It's kind of dangerous around here. What the heck's going on? Someone tried to... She got him intimately. I deflected the shot. I twisted his arm back. He, uh, kind of got in the way. Well, what's going on there? I mean... One of your own men just got himself a long, long furlough, Colonel. 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 Henry van Wyk.

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It 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. Well, this is Mr. O. Archobler. Have you ever felt the inner fury of revenge, the need to get back at someone?

Listen then to my story titled No Escape After This Short Message. In a sanctum mystery. No Escape

Hello, this is your host, welcoming you through the squeaking door. Not for a half hour of terror, but to tell you about Radio Nostalgia magazine. Radio Nostalgia magazine is a must for old-time radio fans.

It's the magazine with many photos and stories of old-time radio and its stars. Our current issue features a 16-page article on The Shadow. All subscribers will get a free Captain Midnight decoder badge, a Captain Midnight flight patrol membership, and a flight commander certificate from the Secret Squadron. To get your copy, send $1.50 in check or money order to Radio Nostalgia, Box 8007R, Union City, New Jersey, 07087.

That's Radio Nostalgia, Box 8007R, Union City, New Jersey, Zip 07087. Send now and get a free 8x10 photo of the Lone Ranger and Tonto, boys and girls.

This is Mr. O again. Courtroom scenes have always intrigued me. The judge on his dais, a very human being asked to play the part of God with happiness and joy, bitterness and tears. Yes, even life and death determined by the state of his very human mind, his very human nerves. Yes, even the state of his very human digestive processes.

Now, there's a jury in this courtroom you're about to enter. By the way, if you haven't turned out your lights yet, please turn them out now and listen to No Escape. You've got ten minutes with him, Counselor. I know, I know. Well, Rogan, I understand you wanted to see me. Sit down, Counselor. I'm very busy. Sit down. Yes. Yes.

What's on your mind? There's always a chance, you know. The jury's been out three hours. The devil with the jury. Get me a knife. Huh? Get me a knife. A knife? Are you insane? A knife. Get me one. But why? You've got a chance. My final summation. The jury might deadlock. Yes, deadlock. Shut up and listen to me. Well? When the jury comes in, he'll be there, sure. He?

Mark Street. Oh. Oh, him. You still don't believe. Oh, but I do, I do. I definitely believe that an individual by that name does exist. Exist? He killed my wife. But the evidence... He killed my wife, you hear me? He killed my wife. Yes, yes, I know. No, you listen to me. You listen or I'll make you listen. The days you've been out there in that courtroom talking words. Words, high-sounding legal words. All the time you went and believed a word I told you.

All the time back at that mug of yours, you've been thinking, yeah, he killed her, he killed her. I killed her. It's the sweetest thing that ever came into a man's life. Now, Mac, I want you to know... Let me get it out of me. Marie was my wife. She was helping me and loving me. Guy come along who couldn't stand her being happy. He took a look at Marie and in that rat mind, he must have said to himself, okay, beautiful, I'm gonna get you. How and when, I don't know, but someday, beautiful, someday. That's what he said.

And that's what he did. What? One night he came over. Sure, he got to be my friend. He came over and when Marie told him I was working late down at the plant, he said he'd wait for me. Business. Business of hell. What? Oh, how can I tell you? I can only think it in my head and remember it in my head. I hear her. I hear her. Don't you? Fighting again. Fighting. I don't hear anything. Fighting. Fighting. She must have clawed at his eyes.

And that knife in his hand. He stabbed her once. And again. And the third time. When I got home, she had strength to whisper just two words to me. His name. And then she was dead. And he killed her. He'd frame me so I'd take the rap. Me that loved her. Mark Street. He did it. You hear me? Mark Street. But no trace of the man. He'll come back, I tell you. He'll come back now to hear that jury speak its piece. He'll come back. I know he will. He'll come back.

That'll be my chance to get him. Get me that knife. But, Mac... A knife. I've got to have it. He'll be there. I can give it to him once, twice, three times the way he did to her and his face and his neck and his dirty heart. Dead the way she's dead. His blood wiping out what he did to her. A knife. Get me a knife. A knife.

Order in the courtroom. Order in the courtroom. An ellipse will clear the courtroom unless order is immediately restored. You've got it, Mac. Everything's going to be all right. But I... Where is it? You certainly didn't think I'd really... Well, I mean a man in my position. You didn't bring it? Be sensible, Mac. How could I? Your wild story about revenge against a man nobody knows... You double-crossed Mac. Sir.

The jury's coming in. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached the verdict? We have, Your Honor. You will read the verdict. We, the jury, find the defendant as charged in the indictment guilty of murder in the first degree. Prisoner will rise and face the court. He's talking to you, Mac. What? The prisoner will rise... Judge, get up, Rogan. Mark Street...

You're here. I know it. Max Rogan, have you anything to say before sentence is passed upon you? I see him. Rogan, what's the matter? Mark Street, he's here. Here. Mark Street, you're here. I see you. I'll get you now. Oh, he's here. Mark Street, I've got to get him and kill him. He framed me. He killed him. Let me go. Now, let's go with me. You can't let him get away. You hear? I saw him.

I'm asking you as a particular favor to me, Rogan.

To behave yourself. Yeah. Now, every man in this cell block is a condemned man. Disturbances just make it harder for everyone concerned. I ain't gonna be with you long, Warden. There's two weeks yet, my boy. I'm not going out that way. Oh. Escape, eh? I'm just telling you not to count too much on swinging that trap. Don't try it, Rogan.

No man's ever escaped from the death house in this penitentiary. And no man ever will. Yeah. Well, this is it, Rogan. Yeah, I would. Oh, hello, Rico. Guard, open the cell door. Yes, Warden. In here, Rogan. What's the matter, Warden? Your hotel getting crowded, so you got to give me a roommate? Now behave yourselves, men.

I don't want any trouble. I sure wouldn't. We don't make any trouble. I hope not. See you later. Wardens, like a schoolteacher. Rogan? How do you know my name? There ain't much going on around here Rico Bartelli don't know. Yeah? Yeah. Wouldn't want to know. How do you get out of here? Well, there's two ways. One through that door where you just came in with the warden.

And the other through that green door down there at the other end. That's a funny door. It only opens up one way. They're not gonna hang me. A lot of guys say that, but they feed the worms just the same. I'm getting out of here. Well, it's easy just to talk. I gotta get out. Why? To kill. You crazy? Well, never mind. To me, it don't make no difference just so long as you help me. I told you Rico about telling those lots of things. Well, listen to this.

I know a way to crack this place. You'll just talk. A guy in my spot don't just talk, my friend. Me, I ain't got time to talk. Yeah. They think they're gonna hang me three days from now. Oh. Yeah, that's why when I say something, I mean it. For you, too.

She got the guts. I'm listening. Look, every day, four o'clock, me and you out in the room down there that they call an exercise room. We're supposed to walk up and down and get exercise so we'll feel good when they stretch our neck. Only you and me in the exercise room for ten minutes. No guards. They figure it's all right because the room ain't got nothing in it. No window. And the guard locks it up from the outside. And how do you... I'm trying to tell you. In the room, there's nothing. Bare walls. Bare floor.

And on the floor, there's one iron saw lead leading down to the saw that runs under this place to the river. Marie? Sure, sure. You do like I say, and Marie will see you pretty quick. This water, how deep is it? No, no. It doesn't make any difference. I can swim in it. Not in this water, my friend. Why not?

How far is it from where we get in the sewer to the river? A mile. I can swim a dozen miles. We're not in this water. Why not? Tell me why not. Hey, you guys, pipe down. Okay, screw. We're going to sleep. Tell me. Why not? Because, my friend, after the pipe that's under the exercise room goes a little way, it joins the main pipe. Well? And in the main, so there's no room to swim. The pipe's filled to the top with water. I'll swim it anyway. And breathe what? The water? I've got to get out. Sure, you've said that before.

But you ain't going to get out if you don't listen to Rico. I tell you, the water in the sewer is up to the top. Maybe half or one inch clear air up on top. Not enough to swim, my friend. But just enough to get air if you got the right thing. What? A diving rig? No. A little piece of rubber pipe that you keep in your mouth. And you stick it up out of the water so you suck in the air while you walk through the water. That's over your head. Where did you get the rubber hose?

Here. See? I got one right here. And I got another one for you. This end stuck in my mouth. Listen, I raise it high like this. So it sticks up out of the water and I suck up that little inch of air that's waiting up there on top. Rock Street, I'll be coming for you soon. Rock Street, what's that?

All I want to know is you're going to break with me down the sewer tomorrow. Man, you don't know what you're doing for me. Shut your mouth. I do it because I can't lift a heavy sewer lid by myself. But you will lift it. We'll lift it. Okay. Tomorrow, four o'clock, we try, huh? Four o'clock. And now a word from your station before we turn to No Escape.

You'll probably hear a lot of charity commercials this year asking you for money. They'll all be for worthy causes. But unless a disease touches you personally, or unless you realize how serious it is, you tend to think of it as just another charity. Now, there's one disease that everyone's heard of, but very few people realize how serious it is.

The fact is this disease afflicts 8 million Americans. The fact is it kills more people each year than automobile accidents. The fact is it's the fourth major health problem in the United States. So that's not just another charity. The sad thing is we have some of the answers for this disease. We just don't have the money to use them. Do we have to wait until someone close to you gets kidney disease before you begin to take it seriously? Kidney disease is not just another charity.

It's the fourth major cause of death in this country. This is Charlton Heston asking you to support the National Kidney Foundation, Box 353, New York, New York. This is Mr. Owey Gane. Let's go back to our story of no escape. This is the day and the time for the two condemned men to make their try for freedom and revenge.

Get plenty of exercise, boys. Won't be long now. Sure, screw. Well, exercise. Rico, the floor, there's no sewer lid in it. You think they got a label on it or something? Quit talking. We gotta move fast. Show me for the leather. Okay, okay. Keep your pants on. Yeah. You see this circle on the floor? Yeah. That's a lid. It's covered with cement just like the floor. Mark, I'm in heaven. All that weight, how will we lift it out? Keep quiet. Here. I got something that'll do the work.

A cold chisel. I told you, Rico Bartelli's a smart guy. This little piece of steel cost me plenty. But I got her and she's going to get me right out of here. Now listen. Yeah. Look. You stick the chisel in the crack. And push up. The comfort comes up a little bit. And you stick your fingers underneath. Okay. I got it. There.

Now get your fingers under. Yeah. Okay. Now lift. Lift.

Get that lid. You're crushing my fingers. Don't make noise. God, don't make any noise. I sing this. Mother of mercy. My fingers. Get that lid off me. Get it up again. Don't yell. I forgot all of you. I'll burn the roof. Get the lid up. There. There. I got it. There. Now help me. I've got it up again. Help me lift it. Yeah. Yeah.

There it comes. There we go. Let her down. Drop your fingers, huh? Never with my fingers. Let's go. Okay. You drop down there first. I don't know how deep the water is. Here goes.

Rogan. Is it all right down there? Yeah. Come on. Okay. Ah. Water's not so deep. It's only up to my waist. Which way now? This way. Come on. It's so blasted dark. I know the way. Ah. Yeah. Yeah.

Pigs. Faster. Lead the way fast. I can't go too fast. Main source is someplace along here. I might fall in. Okay. Well, yes. Pigs. Keep going, keep going. It's black. I can't see nothing. I may go wrong. Shut up. What? Shut up. The water, don't you feel? It's moving faster. Yeah, you're right. That means the main source is up ahead. Come on. Don't get so excited. Why shouldn't I? The main pipe's ahead. Yeah, the main pipe's ahead. That means we're going right.

Oh, I'm not afraid of drowning. I can't drown. I've got to kill him first. I can't drown. Oh, it doesn't matter to you. Come on. Wait a minute. Give me my piece of rubber hose first. Rubber hose? Yeah, sure, like you told me to breathe through in the main sewer. Give it to me now and kids and water separates us. Give you what? What's the matter with you? Me? Tell me what's up. Sure. Sure, why not? I only got one piece of rubber hose. But Rico, you said... What I say and what is, that's two different things.

I got one for me. And me? You. You help me lift up a sword. Okay, that's swell. Now, if you want to go out and knock off that guy you always talk about, okay, I ain't stopping you. Take a swim for yourself.

Give me that piece of hose. You better take that swim while you're still healthy, my friend. Give me that hose. Stay back from me. Give it to me. Okay, I'll give you... Oh, my arm. Get out. The old chism tried to knife me. Get out. Get out. Definitely hurt you now. Oh, my arm.

Yes, your arm, Rico. Bending it to make you bend over. Bend over, Rico, over. Get that head of yours under the water. No, no. Drink it, Rico. Fill your double-crossing lungs with it. Drink. All right, Rico. I got the chisel and the hose.

Now you take that swing that you were gonna give me. Now, Mark Street, I'm coming after you. Hey, now, bud, shut the door. We're closed, see? Might as well scram. One o'clock's closing hours in this town. Help me. Hey, what's the matter with you? Mark Street. Huh?

What's that you said? Mark Street. Where is he? Mark Street? Oh, you mean that lanky chiseler that... I, uh... I, uh... I don't know exactly. I mean, I... Well, I... I ain't seen the guy recent. Where? Where is he? Hennessy Springs. Yeah, that's it. I remember hearing a couple of the boys saying he moved in up there. Say! Say, wait a minute, fella. Don't you want a drink? Don't you want me to give...

Well, is that a note. Walks right out on me. I wonder what in the... Gee, ain't that a funny thing. It ain't rained around here for a week. And the guy's clothes were soaking wet. Oh!

All right, all right. I'm coming, I'm coming. I'll waken a man up in the middle of the night. That's a disturbing piece. Well, what's the matter? Tell me. Tell you what? What's the matter? You drunk? What do you want? Mark Street. Mark Street? Is that what you said? They told me.

He's staying here. He was staying here, you mean. He's gone? That's all right. He's gone. Tell me. Where? Where is he now? He's down six feet in the Rosamonta Cemetery. Mark Street. He's died last week. Good night. Mark Street.

Died last week. Oh, no. No, Mark Street, you can't cheat me that way. Rosemont Cemetery, Sid. All right, Mark Street. I'm coming out to you. Oh!

Why is John... Hello. It's so dark. So dark, if only the moon would... Ah, now I can see. Here lies my beloved wife. No, no, no, not you.

Mark Street, where are you? Where? So many graves, white stones, moonlight, so many dead. If you are here, I'll find you. Here lie the mortal remains of Henry Ohm. Oh, no. I've got to find you, Mark Street. I've got to. Maybe this one. Here lies Mark Street. Mark Street.

I found you, Mark Street. I found you. All these dead, I found you. But are you dead? I must know. I will know. I will know. I will know. I will know. I will know. I will know. I will know.

I will know. I will know. I will know. I will know. The coffin. The coffin. Oh, I'm down to you at last, Mark Street. Now I'll know. Oh, they've covered you well. If it is you. Yes. It is you, Mark Street.

Cheated me. Oh, no. Maybe not. Maybe not. Maybe there's another... Maybe there's another world beyond this one. A world of dead. Where you are now. I'll go there. I'll go there. I'll get you there. Rico's cool. Chisel my hand. I'll shove it in my heart and then I'll be just like you. You hear me, Mark Street? It's Mac. Mac Rogan talking to you wherever you are. I'm coming to you. I'm coming to you.

Mac, Mac Rogan. Mark Street. Mac, Mac Rogan. Marie. Mac. Marie. Marie, I heard... How? When? I don't know. I heard you calling me. Mac Rogan. It is you, Marie. I heard you. I can hardly see. I don't know where I am, but I heard you.

You got your wish, my darling. What? Look there in front of you. Mark Street.

Mark Street, at last! No! No, let me go! The dead can kill the dead! Let me go! And the knife! The knife you killed her with is in my hand! The knife! At last, Mark Street, I'll give you what you gave her! No, no! Once in the face! Twice! A third time! Now, go back to your grave, Mark Street, and I'll...

Go to mine. This is Mr. O, Arch Obler. Again, someone has written me asking me that question. Mr. Obler, do you believe in life after death?

I'll answer that listener's question with a question. Friend, supposing we could turn time backwards and have honest Abe Lincoln with us now, and supposing, just supposing, we were to ask Mr. Lincoln a very ordinary question for our time. President, do you think it's possible to have pictures and sound in full living color passing through our body right now?

just as it would be very difficult for President Lincoln to even conceive of the electromagnetic waves passing through us at this very moment.

So perhaps it's difficult for any of us to admit of the possibility of life existing on wavelengths beyond our own concept. So, to the question, would it be possible for the dead to live on for revenge? I can only answer, I hope sincerely that if they do, they exist for love. Which brings me to next week's play. After a message from your station. Hi, Joey.

What you doing? Huh? Nah, me either. Nothing. Huh? Yeah, we could go over to the school.

See what's happening there. How much will you pay for this boy? No, that's too far. Where we get a car? Maybe he'll never cost you a dime. But suppose he ends up in the welfare line or even jail. Then he's going to cost about $10,000. I guess anything's better than hanging around here. It costs the local scout council just a few dollars a year to keep a boy active in scouting. We tell you this because we need your help.

Scouting gets part of its support from campaigns like the United Way. All the rest of Scouting's support must come from people like you. Okay, listen, I'll meet you there then. Please, support Scouting any way you can.

This is Mr. O again. Before I tell you of next week's play, let me answer another listener by telling her that, yes, I've written a book. Its title is House on Fire, and it's full of chills and thrills and many other things, and it's published by Bartholomew House.

Next week here? Well, it's a story about a vacation. A very peculiar vacation where a man and a woman and a child find themselves in a... But that's next week. It later than you think.

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That's ChumbaCasino.com. No purchase necessary. VGW group void where prohibited by law. 21 plus terms and conditions apply. Adventures in time and space told in future tense. Dimension X. The National Broadcasting Company, in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of astounding science fiction, bring you Dimension X.

This is the story of the second expedition to the planet of Landor. I am recording it for any future expeditions which might land on this godforsaken sphere in the hope that they may learn from our tragic example. As I write, there are two of us left, two out of an original complement of 180 men. One of us, myself, will be dead in less than 27 minutes. As for the other, heaven have mercy on him.

This is how it happened. On June 3rd, 1997, less than two months ago, the last of our supply ships blasted off to Lambeau, headed for Earth. Well, there she goes.

Like a big bottomed bird, eh? Like to be a boarder, Bad Ears? Me? Listen, Captain. I've been kicking around with you from one planet to another for so long now, they're all getting to be the same. Not this one, Bad Ears. Not Landro. No, no. Maybe you're right there. I ain't never been on one like this. It's a cemetery, that's what it is. A big, cold cemetery. Them empty cities, that's what does it. Sitting there like they was tombs. Bad Ears, you're getting to be a poet in your old age.

I ain't so poetic I didn't remember to swipe a bottle of Irish off that supply ship. What? Right here. You know, Brady, if you weren't the best all-around cook and troubleshooter I ever shipped, I'd court-martial you. Well, since I ain't being court-martialed, how about we should open this Irish head time again for supper tonight? Right? Right. Oh.

We walked back to the cluster of plastic huts we call the base. It was beginning to freeze up and that purplish glow had settled across the planet. Yes, it was like a cemetery, all right. A cemetery of dead cities. We walked past one of them, a huge plastic dome with tall, graceful buildings, atomic power systems, vacuum conveyors. All perfect, all deserted, all ominous. How had it happened? Nobody knew for sure.

But the best guess was that the plague had frightened the original inhabitants of the planet so that they had piled into rocket ships and headed for some distant planet. I often wondered why a civilization so advanced as Landro could not find a serum to beat the plague. Well, maybe the aborigines back in the hills knew the answer. Those strange, ugly little people who were taken to the caves the day we landed. All we knew of them was what we found in the anthropological report of the expedition which preceded ours.

And an occasional glimpse by someone on a hunting patrol. When I reached my shack, Morgan, the expedition surgeon, was waiting for me. He was sweating like a pig. And it wasn't the heat because my shack was as cold as a grave. Good evening, Captain Morgan. Well, what brings you here? It's a matter of the serum, sir. What about the serum? It's just that, well, it's no good. It's not good.

No good. It's too cold. Ten years too cold. Didn't you examine it? Yes, yes, I did, but, well, my eyesight has been failing lately. Well, are you aware, Doctor, that the last supply ship has returned to Earth? Do you know we'll have no more contact for two years? Well, I must have misread the label, sir. Dr. Morgan, just how long do you give us? Well, the present immunity will last a week or so, and then it's just a question of time until someone picks up the plague. After that, a month.

Two months at most. Do you have any thoughts as to how we might save ourselves? No, sir. I'm afraid not. What about the natives? They don't die from the plague. They must have a treatment for it. If they didn't, there would be no natives. Would you be willing to go on an expedition to the hills to find out? Right now, Captain, I'd be willing to do anything. Absolutely anything. I'm truly sorry, sir. You're sorry. Dr. Morgan...

Would you mind telling me how it feels to murder 180 men? 181? Including yourself? I did a lot of thinking after Dr. Morgan left my hut. It was still unreal for me. After all, the planning of an expedition was no simple thing. You put into it the results of years of training and experience. Every man on my crew was handpicked for his skill.

And yet a simple thing like a myopic surgeon misreading a label could blast the whole thing. Yes, it was a shame. I did the only thing I could think of. I yelled for Batiers Brady. Brady! Get your carcass in here and hurry it up! Okay, okay! What's up? Sit down, Batiers. You got trouble, Ira? We got trouble. What? The serum's no good. What?

What? Morgan forgot to check it. It's ten years too old. Holy jumping snails. You gonna court-martial? Well, it wouldn't do much good. We'll all be dead pretty soon unless somebody figures something out. Why did they send these civilians with us? Well, it was a mistake. Anybody can make a mistake. Only this was a big one. Ira, what are you gonna do? Well, there's only one chance. One chance in ten million. What? The natives.

Them cave rats, what good can they do us? They don't get the plague. So? So maybe they know a cure. Oh, listen, those gimpos don't know nothing. Take it from me. It's the only chance. Okay, let's get a few of them and beat it out of them. That's why you're here. Sure. How'd you like to come along on a little expedition up to the cave country? That's a good way to die young. We die young anyway.

Okay. What's the pitch? Now, we don't dare let the rest of the camp know. It would knock our morale to pieces. Who's going? You, me, the doctor, and Faulkner. Faulkner? Listen, Ira, he's worse than the doctor. I know he isn't exactly the man for a hunting trip, but he knows more about the native culture than anybody here. He's the only one who's completely familiar with the records of the first expedition. Okay, so it's me, you, the doc, and Faulkner. When do we start? Tonight, in half an hour. Now, we should reach the cave country by tomorrow.

With luck, we'll be able to find natives before night. And then the fun starts. You know, Ira, them gimpos don't exactly love us. Nobody loves us, Batiers. That's one of the great paradoxes about this job. We come here to help them, to civilize them so they can live like human beings instead of pack rats and they run off to the hills and hide from us. Like we had the... I almost said plague. Okay, Batiers. Get the doc and Faulkner. ♪♪

Benny Faulkner's body was small and consumptive. But he had a good brain. He was the best anthropologist the Interplanet Institute could recommend. He and Dr. Morgan were the only two civilians on the expedition. The rest of us were all Army or Space Patrol. We hadn't been marching very long before Benny's frail constitution began to show signs of wear and tear. You all right, Benny? It's nothing. Just the dust.

I'm allergic to dust. You hear that, Ira? He's allergic to dust. We better call off the expedition, eh? Easy, Badass. Yes, sir. Want to rest a while, Faulkner? It's okay. I can make it. Well, we should be in the cave country in an hour or so. It'll be daybreak then, and the going will be easier. Ah!

How about you, Doctor? All right. I'll make it. Okay. Let's go. Ira. What is it? Don't look now, but very slowly turn your eyes to the right and look behind that big yellow rock. Okay. You see anything? No. Keep looking. Don't stop walking or let out. Okay. There. Look.

Looked like a shadow or something. It's one of them gimpos. They've been following us now for almost an hour, dodging in and out behind rocks. I think there's more of them, too, but I couldn't swear. Well, anyway, they know we're coming. That's for sure. What do you think? Should we bring one in? Not yet. We don't know how many of them there are. Just pretend you don't see them. And above all, tell the others to show no signs of fear. There's nothing will start these simple-minded cavemen like fear. That was it.

The manual said under no circumstances shall a member of the patrol display fear before a native. The dignity of the earth man must be preserved at all costs. Walk erect, be firm but just, and do not allow the native to feel he is your superior. It was a good rule, and it always worked. Just before dawn, we reached the cave country. We were tired and hungry, and we stopped to cook some food and rest. Everything was quiet. There was no sign of the gimpo, as bat ears called him, until...

Come on, boy, break this shit up. What's your trouble? Look at me, Ira. It can't be one of these gimpos sneaking around outside the tent. He almost slit my throat with one of those stone knives he did. Bring him into the light of the fire where we can get a look. Yeah, right. Hey, Faulkner. Yes, sir? Try to establish some communication. Oh, I did it. Look out. Now, no need to knock him down, Bat ears. That's the only language they understand. Faulkner, see if you can reach him. Okay, Captain.

I'll need a drum of some sort. A what? Well, I find they communicate with one another through a very primitive kind of vibration of the tongue. Now, the closest I can come is a series of drum beats, a sort of a Morse code. The psychologist on the first expedition had it worked out before he was killed by the play. I've studied his notes, and I think it'll work. You mean these animals can talk to one another? I believe they can. At any rate, we'll have a chance to find out.

Do we have something I can use for a drum? Oh, here. Take my helmet. Thank you, doctor. Now, I'll tap it four times. That's a greeting of some sort. Oh, just a moment. Yes, sir? I don't want you treating this fellow like an equal. Don't give him the idea that we're desperate. Once they sense that, we're lost. All right. Here we go. Now I'll give him the helmet. Good. He seems to understand. What shall I ask him, sir? Now, first, tell him we come in peace.

Reassure him that we don't wish to hurt him or his people. I'll try. He seems to understand. He wants to answer. Well? He says, others like you came to Landro. You must mean the first expedition. Go on. I want you to lead around to the subject of the plague gradually. Don't let on that we're desperate. I'll do my best, sir. It's a strange sight.

On one side of the helmet crouched little Benny Faulkner. Across from him crouched the Landrian, a humpback gray little creature with an enormous head and those soft lavender eyes. I'm setting forth in this narrative the transcript of their conversation as Benny Faulkner later transcribed it from the best of his memory. Faulkner, we come as friends, native. Why?

Faulkner, we will help you to rebuild your cities and make your machines work again. Why? We want to help you to enjoy the benefits of the great culture which once thrived on land growth. Why? Because we want to help you. If we ask you not to help us, will you go away? We stay for your own good. We have helped many others on other planets.

How? We teach them a better way to live. Their way of life was better than your way. Have you tried our way? Why were your cities abandoned? Was it the plague? Yes. Do you still fear the plague? Do any of your people become afflicted? Some. How do you treat them? How do you keep the plague from spreading?

Do you have a cure? How can we find a cure for the plague? Go among my people. Will we find the answer among your people? My people have the answer. Will you tell me the answer? Go among my people. The drumbeats ended. As far as the land ring was concerned, the conversation was ended. He rose to go and Faulkner stepped from his path.

But Brady was there to insure the bet. Hold on there, bucko. You ain't going no place. Don't maltreat him, Brady.

What'd he say, Benny? He says his people have the answer. What do you think? Well, there may be some truth in it. He says some of his people still get the plague. That must mean it isn't a question of immunity. They must have a cure. Well, he wasn't clear on that, Doctor. Then they must have a vaccine to keep it from spreading. Does he know? Evidently not. I could beat it out of him. I don't think he's lying. Well, that leaves it up to us. Now, the first level of caves are on top of that cliff about a mile ahead. It's a trap. I'll bet my last dollar on it. Maybe not.

We'll have to risk it. Now, wait. Yes, Doctor. Let me go. I got you all into this. How will you talk? Well, Benny here can give me enough of the code so I can ask the big question. All right, Doctor. We'll wait at the foot of the cliff. Now, you go on ahead. If you aren't back down in three hours, we'll come up after you. What about the gimpo we've got? We'll hold him as a hostage to ensure the Doctor's safety. Now, if the Doc comes back all right, we'll let him go. Your job, that is. A pleasure. Don't kick him. That's...

But if he gives me any trouble, I'll take a shovel to his bottom. You can count on that. It took Dr. Morgan about an hour to pick his way up the side of the cliff to the first of the openings where the Landrians lived. He waved to us before he entered the mouth of the cave. And we waved back. Then we settled down to wait. It was a long, long wait.

Eight o'clock. He's been up there more than three hours, Ira. I'll give him a little more time. It's getting colder. Keep the fire going. You'd think we'd have heard something by now. If that was going to knock him off, I mean... Not necessarily. Wait. Look. Up on the cliff. That's the doctor. What's he running for? I don't know. He looks scared. Crazy fool. If he don't look down... Doctor. Doctor Morgan, look out. Look out. We found him at the foot of the cliff.

Crumpled and broken. We never knew why he had thrown himself off. Scrawled across the pad he had taken with him, on which to make notes concerning the answer, was a single word. The word was courtesy. The expedition was a failure. Okay, that's it. I have to head back for camp and just wait and pray. Not just yet, Ira. Okay? What's on your mind, Batty?

If it's all the same to you, I'd like to take the gimp over here out behind the rocks and have a talk with him. Okay, Ira? What do you think you'll accomplish? I don't know. Just a quiet little talk. No violence? No violence. Just a real earnest type conversation. Okay, Ira? It was one of those decisions the commanding officer dreads. 180 lives against the chance that Bat ears could persuade the little gray man to give an answer he might not even know.

I nodded, and Bad Ears took the little native off behind an outcropping of rock. He was back in 15 minutes, dripping with sweat. Well? Let's go, Ira. Nothing, huh? But nothing. Is he, uh... Yeah, they ain't made very good, those little gray people. They come apart too easy. So, let's go, Ira. All right. Hey, Benny. Hey, Benny. What is it? I feel kind of sick.

All of a sudden. He's got a weak stomach. Dust allergy. Now, wait a minute. What is it, Benny? Back of my head. Dull kind of pain. Stick out your tongue. Give him my hand, bad ears. We've got to get him back to camp. What is it? I'm not sure. But that blackness on the tongue and the headache, it could be the plague. By the time we got Benny Faulkner back to camp, he had the red spots on his body.

And then the fever began to rage. It was a plague, no mistake about it. Before morning, Collins' supplies hadn't had it. Then it was Peabody. After that, the men went down like ten men. They screamed and moaned. And then they died. Come. Hello, buddies. Ira. Have a drink. It's the last of the cough medicine. Yeah. Tired. Oh, man, I've never been so tired. What's the count?

We lost six more today. Six? That makes 29 dead. 29 in less than a week. It's them stinking natives. They put the whammy on us. I take it easy. Easy? I'd like to take a machine gun up to them hills and knock off the whole bunch of... How's Benny? Now, that's a funny thing. I went into his tent this morning figuring sure he'd be dead by now. Instead, I see his fever is down a couple of points. That's amazing. Usually gets him in a matter of days. Faulkner's been hanging on for weeks now.

Well, keep an eye on him. It was a nightmare of eternity after that. A ceaseless round of caring for the stricken, of helping with the graves, of writing in the book the names of those who died. Sleep came in snatches over me so exhaustedly I couldn't stand. Then one morning, Batty as Brady dragged himself into my shack. Sit down, Batty. What's it count?

Six left. We buried the chaplain today. You got a cigarette? Yeah, sure. How's Falkland? I don't get it. Still alive? He's getting better. He's sitting up. Holy mackerel. Ah, this is a good cigarette. Not like any other. No? No, this one's different, Ira. This is my last. What do you mean? Take a look at my tongue, Ira. See? Little black spots. Somehow, I managed to get him into bed.

He was already raving when I gave him the last of the morphine. It was incredible. Big, brawling Bat Ears Brady. Tower of strength. Flying sick and whimpering on a cot. I went out on the moors to think. The sun was a dull red glow. Cold breeze whipped up. The planet of Landro was in emptiness. I thought about Bat Ears and Dr. Morgan and Benny Faulkner. Why should Faulkner of all of us recover from the plague from which no man recovered?

I turned and went back to see Benny Faulkner. Hello, Captain. Hello, Benny. How are you? Good. Got up and walked a couple of steps today. How goes it? Brady's down. Oh. Listen, Benny. There must be some reason why you survived the virus. Well, how about you? Why didn't you ever even get it? I give it time.

What can I do? I want you to tell me everything you know about yourself. Everything you can remember. But why? Because somewhere in your makeup is some little thing that makes the difference. At least I can leave a record for any future expedition that comes to Land Rover. Okay? Okay, Captain Warren. Where do you want me to start? At the beginning. Now, I'm going to take notes. Well, I was born on the 2nd of July in 1971. My parents were ordinary people. My father was a farmer.

I told you everything I can remember. For three days now, you've questioned me. All right. I'll take it from where the natives started to walk away. You stepped out of his path and Brady grabbed him. Okay, so I stepped out of his path. Why? What do you mean, why? Why did you step out of his path? Well, why not? Courtesy, that's why. What's the matter? Courtesy. That's the word that Dr. Morgan...

had written in his notebook. I don't see... I don't either. Tell me, why should you want to be courteous to a native? Why not? What about maintaining your own dignity? Are you talking about dignity or arrogance? Look, I don't get this at all, Captain. You're familiar with the records left by the first expedition, Benny. What happened with the natives? Well, the natives were friendly enough at first, but after a while, they went back to the caves. And when we got here, they wouldn't come near us, right? Right. Yet we came to help them. So what? So maybe this, Benny...

Maybe we were all wet in our deductions. Maybe those cities weren't deserted centuries ago after all. Maybe these little people up in the caves are the same people who used to live in those cities. Well, why should they leave? Well, maybe they found out the big cities weren't the answer. Maybe they found out that civilization doesn't necessarily bring happiness. So they just packed up and left. Returned to the simple life. That doesn't make sense. You're forgetting the plague. Benny, what is the plague? Well, I don't know.

I think the plague was nothing more than what we know as greed and irritant. Captain, you're going off your rock. I think maybe we were in line to die of it, even if the serum had been good. Well, it violates all the laws of Earth. We aren't on Earth. We're on Landro. A planet a million light years from home. Now, why are we trying to take these primitive happy people and make them like ourselves? Why are we trying to mold them to convince them that they belong in cities, that they should be building better can openers instead of just enjoying human relationships? Why, Benny?

If that isn't sheer, stupid, crazy arrogance, my name isn't Ira Warren. Well, the war went that night. Three days later, that year's Brady died. In his delirium, he was howling about how if he could just get his hands on one of those stinking natives, he'd wring the answer out of him. After I buried him, I went back to Benny Faulkner's tent. Faulkner was getting out of bed as I entered. How was he, Captain? I just buried him. Holy mother in heaven. That means two of us.

Two out of 180. Not two. Just one. Oh, but you're all right. I have a headache. I'm beginning to sweat a little, too. Well, can I help you any? No. No, I think I'll go back to my shack and finish writing the report. Well, maybe it isn't the plague. No, Benny. I've seen it too many times. I kid myself about it. Look, Captain, you don't believe that junk about courtesy, do you? I mean that stuff you were talking about the other night. That's a lot of nonsense. You must know that.

Holy mackerel, Captain. You can't believe it. You can't. Good night, Benny. I think I'd like to be alone for a while. Okay. Good night, Captain Warren. I'm turning it over to Benny Faulkner in the hopes that he will be able to transmit it to any other expedition commander who contemplates exploring the planet of land. The fever is beginning to mount now.

My hands tremble as I write. The end should not be far off. You see, I didn't have a chance. I stepped out of no path. You have just heard another adventure into the unknown world of the future. The world of... Dimension X! Dimension X!

We are just beginning to discover how boundless our universe really is. And yet, what would it be like to live in a world no larger, say, than a single gigantic rocket ship? You'll find out more about it on Dimension X next week when we present Robert Heinlein's Universe.

Dimension X is presented each week by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of the magazine Astounding Science Fiction. Today, Dimension X has presented Criticy from the current issue of Astounding Science Fiction. It was written for radio by George Lefferts from the story by Clifford Simak.

Featured in the cast were Lawson Zerbe as Captain Warren, Bill Zuckert as Batty as Brady, and Bill Gray as Benny Faulkner. Your host was Norman Rose. Music by Albert Berman. Dimension X is produced by William Welch and directed by Fred Way.

This episode is sponsored by my friends at BetterHelp. And I do mean friends, because not only have I used BetterHelp in the past myself, but I've sent friends and family their way too. Yes, I have friends. We all deal with the occasional stressful situation. Welcome to life. But once in a while, the stress and anxiety can either hit us like a ton of bricks unexpectedly, or creep in without our noticing until we're suddenly overwhelmed.

At work, you're dealing with bosses, co-workers, employees, paperwork, that guy who keeps replacing a real coffee with decaf without telling anybody, and somehow trying to balance that with life at home. Bills, crying babies, critical in-laws, that faucet that refuses to stop dripping all night long like some kind of torture method. It's no wonder 61% of the global workforce nowadays is experiencing higher than normal stress levels.

We have that much more we're trying to handle without any more downtime or relief. I needed help when stepping into being self-employed full-time as a voice actor and podcaster. It was a bit much to take at first, and it triggered my depression horribly. Better help was there for me. I've learned to walk away from the studio when things get overwhelming or tense. I don't feel guilty now about taking an afternoon nap or an extra long lunch just to settle my brain.

If it gets really bad, better help is there to get you over the bump.

What I like most is the convenience. You can join a session with your therapist at the click of a button without ever leaving your house, your office, your car, the hot tub in your neighbor's backyard when they're not home, wherever you happen to be. Hey, you do you. You gotta love mobile therapy. And if you don't feel your first choice of therapist is working for you, you can switch to another one. No extra charge. Switch anytime. The important thing is that you find who you feel comfortable with and connect with.

As the largest online therapy provider in the world, BetterHelp can provide access to mental health professionals with a diverse variety of expertise, so you can find just the right person for your particular situation and personality. As a Weird Darkness listener, you get 10% off your first month at BetterHelp.com slash weird. That's BetterHelp.com slash weird.

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Good evening. Come in, won't you? Why, what's the matter? Surely you're not nervous. Perhaps a story might calm your nerves a little. A story about an undertaker and death. I call it Stand In For Death. Stand In For Death

My story begins in the small, dimly lit undertaking parlor of Charles Thompson's.

Thompson and his son, Paul, are listening to the news broadcast. As yet, there has been no further news about Tony Williams, the notorious gangster who less than an hour ago shot and killed Detective Walter O'Hara and fatally injured a six-year-old child in making his getaway in a stolen car. The entire police force is on the search for Williams. It is believed that... You think that Tony Williams is our cousin, a man like that? Oh, Dad, you mustn't take it so hard. After all, it's... No, I'll answer it.

Tony. Sir. I want the whole neighborhood to know I'm here. Lock the door and pull out the shades. Hurry up. Why have you come here, Tony? What do you want? I need a hideout and this is going to be it. No, Tony. I won't let you hide out here. You're nothing but a mad killer. Yeah? Tony, put away that gun. This gun's the reason you're going to hide me out here. You understand? Yeah. You understand? We understand. And just do as I say and you may live. I'll have to lay low here for a couple of days until the heat's off. I've had a chance to make some plans. Well, come, Paul. It's four o'clock. We must leave. Wait a minute.

Where are you going? We're taking old Luigi Gambon to Woodcrest Cemetery to bury him. Woodcrest? It's about five miles out of town, isn't it? Yes, that's right. Are there going to be any mourners at old Luigi's funeral? No. Luigi had no relatives. The city was going to bury him in a pauper's grave until we claimed his body. Ah, this gets better and better. Why are you so interested in old Luigi's funeral? Because old Luigi's funeral is going to be my funeral. What? What are you talking about? This. This.

I'm substituting myself in a coffin for Luigi. All you two have to do is drive to the cemetery. There, I'll get out of the coffin and head for my hideout. After I'm gone, you bury the empty coffin and nobody will be the wisest. But Luigi's body. What do we do with that? That's your problem. No, no, no. No, I won't do it. You'll do as I say. It'll be three corpses in this room instead of one. Now dump Luigi out of that coffin and make it fast. No!

We're starting, Tony. Okay. Remember, if the cops stop you, don't let them get suspicious or else. No, Tony, we won't. We're... Paul, there's a man signalling us to stop. No trick. You try anything, I'll come out of this coffin shooting and the first two bullets will be for you. Be quiet, Tony. Here he comes. It's O'Hara, the private detective. O'Hara? The cop's brother? Yes. Now be quiet.

Oh. Hello, O'Hara. Hello, Charlie. I thought it was you. Lucky I caught you. I was just going to drop in on you. Drop in? On me? That's right. Where are you headed for? We're going out to bury old Luigi at Woodcrest Cemetery. Old Luigi, huh? Yes. I suppose you heard the latest about Tony Williams. Yes, I heard it over the radio. I...

I'm sorry about your brother, O'Hara. He was a good man. You haven't by chance seen Williams lately, have you? You know I've never had anything to do with Williams. Never. Sure, sure, Charlie. It's just that I thought you being Williams' cousin, he might just possibly have come to you for help. Oh, no, no. We haven't seen him in almost a year, have we, Paul? No. No, we haven't. That's all right, Charlie.

Say, do you mind if I ride along with you? Huh? There's a few questions I'd like to ask you about Williams and his habits. But I just got through telling you I haven't seen Williams in almost a year. What are you getting so excited about, Charlie? All I want to ask you is a few things about Williams.

Get this. I'm going to see that Williams gets what's coming to him, and I'm going to be awful suspicious of anybody who doesn't cooperate with me. Well, you mustn't mind my father. He always gets excited when someone mentions Williams' name. You

You know, I'm more than glad to answer any questions, Mr. O'Hara. Yes, of course, O'Hara. What do you want to know? You can get started, Charlie. I'll ride part of the way to the cemetery with you. You can answer my questions on the way. But we can talk here. We wouldn't want to take you out of your way. Oh, no, that's all right. You private dicks always have plenty of time.

I think there's enough room for me to sit up front with you. Just slide over a bit, will you, Charlie? That's it. This is fine. All right, Paul. Let's be on our way to the cemetery.

Dr. Weird's merry tale will be continued in a minute. Which reminds me, Doctor, did you have a merry Christmas yesterday? Young man, don't mention Christmas to me. Why, what's the matter, Doctor? I was hoping to get a skeleton this year, but... Oh, Dr. Weird, I know just how disappointed you are.

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The hearse has left the city behind and is nearing Woodcrest Cemetery. Mile after mile, Paul is driven in silence as O'Hara questions his father about Tony Williams.

Well, here we are, O'Hara, the entrance to the cemetery. Oh, so we are. Go ahead, Paul. Drive in. O'Hara, if you go into the cemetery with us, how will you get back to town? That's all right. I don't mind walking from the grave back to the main road. Go ahead, Paul. Drive in. But, O'Hara... Go ahead, Paul. What are you waiting for?

I'm certainly glad, Charlie, that you and Paul aren't mixed up in Tony's escape. You know, if you were, it'd mean ten years apiece for you in the penitentiary. You know we wouldn't help a killer like Tony Williams. Oh, I know that. Guys like Tony have a way of intimidating people. Oh, but not me, oh. Yes, Charlie, even you. Tony's smart.

And he has an even smarter lawyer. Remember when he was on trial for the murder of that state trooper? He beat that rat because witnesses refused to testify. Tony had intimidated him. And he was acquitted even though everyone knew he was guilty. Yes, but this time he wouldn't have a chance of escaping the chair. I'm not too sure, Charlie. And even if he were convicted, let me tell you, the chair would be far too good for him.

Don't you agree? Oh, yes. You're right, O'Hara. Well, here we are. Oh, is that the grave you're going to bury old Luigi in? Yes. There doesn't seem to be anybody around. Where are the men that lower the coffin into the grave and do the burying? There aren't any, you see. Luigi died penniless. I'm burying him out of my own pocket. I couldn't afford the men to do it. You mean that you and Paul are going to bury him by yourselves? That's right, O'Hara.

Well, I'll give you a hand. Oh, but that isn't necessary. I can manage alone. Yes, the coffin is only a little cheap pine one, and old Luigi weighs very little. It's nothing at all to me. Nonsense. If you two are paying for old Luigi's funeral out of your own pocket, the least I can do is give you a hand. Come on. Well, now, here I am.

It'll take at least an hour to bury him, and there's no sense in your wasting all that time. Besides, it's getting dark fast, don't you think? I'll help you bury old Luigi, and then we can all go back to the city together. But, oh, Hara, you're clueless. Just an old suit, a little dirt won't hurt it. Come on, let's get the coffin out and get started. Now, let's ease it out of the house. Down to the ground. That's it. Say...

You two forgot to lock the coffin. Yeah, that's better. Did you want to say something, Charlie? If you and Paul were mixed up in Tony's escape, it would mean ten years in the penitentiary. No. No.

No, Harold, I didn't want to say anything. Okay. Well, have you got the ropes you used to lower the coffin into the grave? Yes. Here they are. All right. Let's get it over with. All right. Let the coffin down easily. That's it.

Oh, Luigi isn't as light as you might think. Where are the shovels, Paul? Here. Fine. You use one while I use the other. What? Charlie, you'd better take it easy. While Paul and I shovel the dirt in. No. No, don't do that. Let me out of this cover. Let me out. Let me out. Oh, Harold. What's the matter, Charlie? You're as pale as a ghost. You look as though you're hearing voices. Oh, Harold, don't.

Don't you hear? I don't hear a thing. O'Hara, listen to me. I, Fernando O'Hara, will confess. I'll confess everything. The state trooper I murdered, killing your brother, the little kid I ran over, running out, O'Hara, running out! O'Hara, you heard what he said. He'll confess everything. I didn't hear a thing. And neither did you two. Do you understand? Yes, we... we understand of her. Do you, Charlie? Yes. I...

I understand. Okay, Paul. And let's start shoveling the dirt in. No, Harry. Don't. Don't bury me alive. I'll confess everything to her. Too bad about poor Tony, wasn't it? It must be unpleasant to be buried alive. You know, I've often wondered how long it takes a person to suffocate in a coffin. Now, if some brave soul were to volunteer for an experiment, I could...

Oh, you have to go now. Too bad. But perhaps you'll drop in on me again soon. I'm always home. Just look for the house on the other side of the cemetery. The house of Dr. Weird. This episode is sponsored by my friends at BetterHelp. And I do mean friends. Because not only have I used BetterHelp in the past myself, but I've sent friends and family their way too. Yes, I have friends.

We all deal with the occasional stressful situation. Welcome to life. But once in a while, the stress and anxiety can either hit us like a ton of bricks unexpectedly or creep in without our noticing until we're suddenly overwhelmed.

At work, you're dealing with bosses, co-workers, employees, paperwork, that guy who keeps replacing a real coffee with decaf without telling anybody, and somehow trying to balance that with life at home. Bills, crying babies, critical in-laws, that faucet that refuses to stop dripping all night long like some kind of torture method. It's no wonder 61% of the global workforce nowadays is experiencing higher than normal stress levels.

We have that much more we're trying to handle without any more downtime or relief. I needed help when stepping into being self-employed full-time as a voice actor and podcaster. It was a bit much to take at first, and it triggered my depression horribly. Better help was there for me. I've learned to walk away from the studio when things get overwhelming or tense. I don't feel guilty now about taking an afternoon nap or an extra long lunch just to settle my brain.

If it gets really bad, better help is there to get you over the bump.

What I like most is the convenience. You can join a session with your therapist at the click of a button without ever leaving your house, your office, your car, the hot tub in your neighbor's backyard when they're not home, wherever you happen to be. Hey, you do you. You gotta love mobile therapy. And if you don't feel your first choice of therapist is working for you, you can switch to another one. No extra charge. Switch anytime. The important thing is that you find who you feel comfortable with and connect with.

As the largest online therapy provider in the world, BetterHelp can provide access to mental health professionals with a diverse variety of expertise, so you can find just the right person for your particular situation and personality. As a Weird Darkness listener, you get 10% off your first month at BetterHelp.com slash weird. That's BetterHelp.com slash weird.

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You see, darling, it's as old as pendant. I don't know what the stone is. It might be jade. But it's more translucent than jade, isn't it? Anyway, the price I paid for it couldn't possibly be jade. I wonder what it is. Let's have a look.

It's certainly an odd-looking thing. This must be some sort of inscription, I suppose. I suppose so. The man I bought it from didn't know anything about it. Where did you buy it? Off one of those barrows down by the docks. You know, in Michael House Street. Just took my fancy, and it was so cheap. I'm pretty sure this is Greek, you know. Looks like Greek characters. I'll ask Ferguson to translate it. Is he a Greek scholar? Of sorts. Archaeology is his hobby, so maybe he'll know what it says. Well, it's difficult to assess his age, Harold.

Might be almost anything. I suppose they could do it with radioactive tests or something, but I'm not equipped for that sort of thing. No. It's pretty worn in places. Can you make out what the inscription says? Oh, yes, I can, but I can't make any sense out of it. For better or worse, this is what it says. Pandora's box is opened and evil blows abroad, but I am good and evil. Beware, I will grant thee three wishes, but the price must be paid immediately.

And I am the one who chooses the coinage. Now, what on earth is that supposed to mean? I told you, I don't know. More than likely, it's some sort of ancient talisman, you know. Good luck symbol. Although, it does say that it'll grant you three wishes. THE END

So what earthly harm can it do? I'm just telling you what Ferguson told me, that's all. But you don't believe in that sort of nonsense, do you? I don't know. All I know is that one never gets something for nothing in this life. But you don't really believe that it would grant a wish. Oh, come now, Harold. You're going back to your nursery days. Aladdin and his lamp and all that nonsense. In bygone times, magic was more of an everyday thing than it is today, you know. Do you really believe that?

Well, I don't disbelieve it. Odd things have happened throughout history, you know. Things that nobody has ever satisfactorily explained. Take witches, for instance. Now, there's definite proof that they really did exist once upon a time. Oh, don't be ridiculous. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamed of in your philosophy. Remember that, Bella. Well, wear it by all means if you want to, but don't start wishing for anything because you might be sorry if your wish is granted. THE END

If only I'd listened to him. Harold would be alive today if I'd listened to him. But I didn't, you see. That's why I had to kill him again. Even after he was dead. I had to kill him. You see, one day, Harold and I were talking. Things hadn't been going so well for us for a couple of months or so. We were starting to get into debt.

I wasn't fully aware of it at the time, but I know now. But that thing had brought its own personal aura of evil with it. It was all around us, like a spiritual swamp. There was just bad luck and disaster vaguely in the air.

It's all very well you telling me to economize, but how? I don't know how. That's your job. You run the house, or you're supposed to. Oh, for heaven's sake, we live like beggars as it is. I just can't cut down anymore. Well, you've got to, and that's all there is to it. I'm going to have a drink. Do you want one? No, thanks. We can't afford them. Oh, stop being childish with me now. Well, what do you expect me to do? Wear my little magic wand, and all of a sudden there's plenty for everyone. Look, I'm worried about things. Can't you understand that? All of a sudden, somehow, we just haven't got enough money.

I wish I had a thousand pounds. I wish you could wave your magic wand. Let's try the pendant. The what? The pendant. This thing round my neck. Remember? It grants wishes, but beware of the consequences. Who cares about the consequences? Either I don't believe in it at all, in which case wishing would be a waste of time, or else I believe in it completely, and I believe that we wouldn't get our wish without some sort of tragic follow-up. We don't know enough about these sort of things. All right, you're the boss.

You'll have to get your thousand pounds from somewhere else. Oh, there you are. I couldn't sleep. Why don't you come to bed? I couldn't sleep either. I'm not tired. Oh, what on earth are you sitting up like this for? It's so cold down here. Fire's nearly dead. Yes, it is cold. Come on, darling, cheer up. Things can't be that bad. They are that bad, Bella.

I've... I've embezzled money from work, Bella. From what? Not a great deal. Seven hundred and thirty pounds, to be precise. I've taken it in small amounts over the last two months. That's how we've managed to keep out of trouble. Oh, no. Yes, I'm afraid so. The auditors are going through the books. They're bound to find out in the next day or two. But is there nothing you can do? Can't you borrow the money somewhere and pay it back? No, no. I'm afraid not. We don't know anyone who could lend us that kind of money, do we? The talisman? That stone?

What about that? You mean wish for the money and expect it to drop down the chimney or something? Well, it's probably nonsense, I know. It can't do any harm, can it? It can. That's just the point, isn't it? Oh, for goodness sake, are we just going to sit here and mope and let them arrest you tomorrow or whatever they do? If you put it that way, it does sound pretty spineless, doesn't it? Well, I'm going to make a wish. I'm going to go and get that thing from my jewellery box upstairs. And we'll both hold it and make a wish. THE END

I went upstairs and I got that thing from my jewelry box. I went back down into the lounge and the two of us sat on either side of the dying fire. At first, we felt a bit self-conscious and silly about it. But as we both held peculiar green colored stone and as our fingertips touched, I was aware of a presence. An evil presence. I know that now. We sat there by the fire and we wished for enough money

to get Harold out of the jam that he was in. Well, nothing seems to be happening, does it? Well, I suppose you've got to keep it tight. As you said, we can't expect the money to drop down the chimney, can we? I feel a bit silly now, don't you? I don't know. Empty, too. I feel sort of empty. Yes. Well, nothing's happening, is it? I suppose we'd better go to bed. Yes, all right. You'll feel better in the morning.

I wonder. The next morning I got Harold off to work the same as usual. That was the last time I saw him alive. Until he came back from the grave, I mean. Then about three o'clock in the afternoon there was a knocking at the front door. Somehow, don't tell me how, somehow I knew this was it. I knew that the pendant had done its work and granted our wish.

Yes? Mrs. Jarvis. That's right. Come through here, Mr. Ashley. I'm afraid you must prepare yourself for a shock, Mrs. Jarvis. What I have to tell you is rather bad news. About Harold, isn't it? He's had rather a bad accident at work, I'm afraid. One of the machines... He's dead.

Isn't he? His jacket was unbuttoned. Somehow the coat got caught up. Death must have been pretty instantaneous. Although the body was pretty badly battered, I'm afraid. Oh, no. Oh, no. What am I going to do? Poor Harold. Because of the nature of the accident, he'll be covered by Whitman's compensation, of course. I've been on to them, as a matter of fact. Mummy? Oh, yes, of course.

There would have to be money, wouldn't there? Not a great deal, I'm afraid, but... Well, enough to help tide you over this bad patch. Just a minute. How much? Plus minus... £730, Mrs. Charters. Move in world class. Get the taste of new smooth State Express 3-5s today. We promise you, it's the smoothest cigarette you can get.

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Get the taste of new smooth State Express 3-5s today. You see what happens when one starts to get greedy. Poor Harold. But our story isn't over, is it? There are still two wishes to go.

I'm thinner. For weeks, I was just numb, Doctor. I couldn't do anything. Then I began to be obsessed with the idea that somehow this locket was responsible for the whole business. I should have thrown it away. I know that now. I didn't. I went to see Harold's friend, Mr. Ferguson. Mr. Ferguson.

I was terribly distressed to hear about Harold, Bella. Somehow one doesn't expect these sort of accidents in this day and age. It wasn't an accident. I beg your pardon? It wasn't an accident. It was this thing. I don't understand you, I'm afraid. Do you remember this? Just a minute. Yes, yes, of course I do. Harold brought this to me to read the inscription some time ago. And the inscription says something to the effect that it will grant a wish but beware of the consequences. It's right, isn't it? Something like that, yes, Bella.

Surely you don't mean to tell me that you believe in that sort of thing? I didn't. Not for a second did I believe it until Harold and I tried it out one night, and look what's happened. But you surely aren't connecting the accident which led to his death with any silly wish you might have made. Things like good fairies and wishing wells just don't exist these days. But you believe that they did exist once, don't you? Oh, I don't know, Bella. Lots of unexplained things in antiquity, you know. This pendant...

This is very old, isn't it? This is a remnant of antiquity, isn't it? Yes, I know, but really, believe me, these sort of things don't happen anymore. Well, Harold and I wished for 730 pounds. The next day, he was killed. And the workman's compensation paid out 730 pounds. How do you explain that? There's only one explanation, isn't there? Absolutely a million to one coincidence. If you really believe that, and I don't think you do, then there's nothing more to say. But if you don't believe it...

Perhaps you'll give me your advice. When one reaches my age, one is always giving advice. People seldom take it, but we still enjoy giving it. Go ahead. What's on your mind? What could go wrong? If I were to wish for things to be exactly as they were...

Before we got the talisman. Well, now, that poses a bit of a problem. In order to answer it, we'll have to assume that this thing does work, that it does grant wishes. All right, let's assume that. I know it does anyway. Yes, well, the point is that anything which has power only has power within terms of its nature. Do you understand what I mean?

Not really. Well, take a motor car. It's within its nature to travel along the road. Therefore, it has power within terms of this nature. But it can't, well, fly, for instance. It can't use its power to build houses. Do you follow me now? Yes, I think I do. Go on. Therefore, this stone would not be able to take you back to the time before it was in your possession. That would be out of its province, so to speak. Yes, I see. But supposing that I wished the things were as they were before we actually wished...

What then? The pendant was in our possession, but we hadn't used it. Again, the same thing would apply, my dear. You see, this is a magic stone, let us assume. Magic as it was understood when this stone was fashioned. Philosophies and viewpoints were much simpler things then. And I'm pretty certain that time travel had never been envisaged. Putting it simply, you mean that the stone wouldn't know what I was talking about. That's putting it very simply, but you've grasped my meaning. But can it do any harm to try? Again, we come back to the nature of the stone.

If time travel is in its power, then it might very well be capable of transporting you back. But you must be careful, you know. Beware of the attendant dangers when the wish is granted, you mean. That's right. The warning is quite explicit. If you believe in this stone's magic power, then you must also believe that only evil can come when the wish is granted. I went back home and I thought about what Ferguson had said.

It was quite late at night before I finally made up my mind. But at last I did. I sat in the lounge. A fierce storm was raging outside, and I held the pendant between my finger and thumb. Again, I started to feel the evil, almost a physical manifestation of evil. I ignored it, and I wished. I wish, I wish that things were as they were before.

Harold and I made that wish. I wish we had 730 pounds. There, I've done it. Harold, you're back. You're back from the dead. Back from the dead? What are you talking about? And the storm. The storm has stopped. What storm? What are you talking about? There hasn't been a trace of rain all evening. Oh, no. Well, nothing seems to be happening, does it?

What's the matter with you? We decided to make the wish, remember? We wished for 730 pounds. Yes, of course. That's right. I feel a bit silly now. Empty, too. I feel sort of empty. Well, nothing's happening, is it? I suppose we'd better go to bed. Yes. All right. You'll feel better in the morning. I wonder. Bella, did you ever have the feeling that something had happened before? And that's what happened.

The stone took us back in time, all right, but nothing changed. I had to live through it all over again. I tried to stop Harold from going to work, but I couldn't. It was inevitable, you see. He went to work, and at three o'clock the next afternoon, the same man came around and told me that my husband had been killed in an accident, and they were paying out 730 pounds. After that, I was hardly a person at all. I sat at home, stared into the fire, and stared at the pendent.

The stone that had brought me so much sorrow. I was a lonely doctor. Terribly lonely. And it came to a head last week. Tuesday night. It would have been our wedding anniversary. We would have been married 11 years. I sat in the lounge, as usual, and looked at the fire.

Oh, Harold. My Harold. What did I do to you? Who can that be? People don't come visiting at nine o'clock at night. In any case, who'd want to visit me? Oh! Oh!

Mr. Ferguson, come in. Let me tell you, Bella, I don't know what possessed me to come over tonight. Well, come in anyway. I was feeling in the absolute depths of loneliness and despair. I've been thinking about Harold all day. And I suddenly remembered that last year I helped him choose an anniversary present for you. It is your anniversary, isn't it? It would have been. I've brought us a drink. Come on, you've got to cheer up, you know. Life goes on. Yes, all right. Yes. Yes, I'd like to have a drink with you.

Oh, it was good of you to come. Yes, let's have a drink. Let's have several. And we did have several. Too many, in fact. At least I did. By the time it got to nearly midnight, we were both of us very talkative. I suppose Ferguson's visit had cheered me up to a degree. At least that's what I thought. But when the superficial sort of chatter wore off, I realized that it hadn't really...

I was still terribly lonely for Harold. It was very good to me. A fine man. Let's drink to him. Have you still got that pendant? Yes, I have. Somehow I can't get rid of it. I would hate anyone else to get their hands on it, you know. I feel somehow that while I have it, it can't harm anybody else. Where is it? I wear it all the time. Oh, not outside my dress. Here.

Want to look at it? No, no, I just wondered where it was. Even from here, one can see how beautiful it is, can't one? Beautiful and evil. Do you know, even as I hold it now, I can feel the evil again. I don't know what to make of it. It has a sort of warmth, you know. I beg your pardon? It seems to somehow sort of burn my fingers. Not burn. I shouldn't have mentioned the wretched thing. Put it away, Bella. Oh, Harold. My dear, dear Harold. How I loved you.

I'll love you still, wherever you are. I'll always love you. Oh, Harold, how I wish you were back again. Oh, Harold, what have I said? Ferguson, what have I done? I didn't mean to do it, but I wished Harold was back again. And that was the last wish! It's him.

It's Harold. He can't be. It can be, and it is. You know that. For heaven's sake, you can't let him in. You think I'm afraid of my own husband. But he's been dead for four months. I don't care. I love him. I'm coming. Bella, don't do it. I'm coming. Just think what he must look like. Harold. I've come back, Bella. You brought me back. Why did you bring me back? Harold.

I can't start to describe to you what I saw there. But it wasn't my Harold. Not the Harold that I've loved. Somehow I managed to grab a paper knife off the table in the hall. I stabbed it. Again and again I stabbed it. You wouldn't believe, Doctor, how difficult it is to kill something that's already dead. But I did. At last I managed to kill the thing that had been Harold. The story...

That was the last of my wishes. That's the end of the story. Well, there you are, you see. So if you possess an old pendant with funny writing on it, whatever you do, don't make a wish while you're holding it in your hand.

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There it is, Dobroga.

A neat craft. It's ideal for what we need. It's only small size. I'm told she rides like a bird. And our friend could always choose an excellent craft. There's someone aboard. You can see them from here. Let me have those glasses.

Ah, that's our friend. He hasn't aged a day. He's dyed his hair, though. I suppose he had to. Do you think he'll cooperate? Cooperate? He'll have to. Come on, let's get down to him now. There's no one aboard. He must have left.

Wait a minute. A typewriter, that must be he. He calls himself a modelist these days. Come on. It's down this way. That must be the cabin there. Leave this to me. Well, if it isn't my old friend. What? G.K.?

What a wonderful surprise. Come in. Sit down. There's a drink in that cupboard. Go on, help yourself. You were always the perfect gent, weren't you, pal? You do yourself well these days. Yes, indeed. Every luxury. Writing novels must be profitable. You look as if you're doing pretty well yourself. I've got no complaints. Go on, the bragger, pour us a drink.

Surprised to see me? I've been expecting this for some time. The past catching up, eh? You didn't think you could escape for good, did you? I hoped I might. But you've done well, I'll hand you that. Mr. Ricky Sloan, the famous novelist. You write good. From first-hand experience, eh?

What do you want? We are back in partnership, Mr... Oh, what is it you call yourself these days? Oh, Sloan, isn't it? I can't get used to that name still. I keep on trying. Ricky Sloan. Our partnership ended some years ago. For me, it didn't. You cleaned up a packet and then you went straight. Then you tried your hand at the writing and cleaned up another packet. That's what I call luck you can't lose.

He can't lose, the bragger. I will cut out this smart talk, G.K., and get down to facts. Right. I'll play my hand clean. You are going to help us, friend. I don't feel inclined. What you feel is of no consequence. It's what I say. We want to use this craft to pick up a certain parcel of Cape Finisterre. What? It's ideal for the job and no questions asked.

The famous novelist always cruises around picking up local color. What if I say, go to the devil? I wouldn't. Not if I were you. I might be tempted to expose your past activities as a diamond operator. And I've got evidence, plenty of evidence. Wouldn't look good, would it? The fiancée of Trudy Grant with a shady past. So you know about her? It was in all the newspapers. That's how we latched on to you.

A father, an eminent financier? You flew into a loft full of nice, fat pigeons, didn't you? Once again, you were lucky. You know, when I saw your picture, I said to the bragger here, this is my best friend we've got to call. And here we are. Forget the speeches, G.K. Get down to the peckings. Easy-basted, this one, Ricky.

That's why he'll never be the operator you were. Look, Mr. Sloan, we want this craft and we're taking it. We want more than the craft, De Braga. We want him and his crew as well. We want the complete unit, all ours. Get the message, Ricky. You don't understand about ships, G.K. You never did. We've got to load stores and fuel. We've got to get customs clearance. Wait for the tides. There isn't a crew member aboard either. They're on shore leave.

We'll wait around until they come back. Yes, this certainly is comfort. Relax, the braga, relax. We should have found Ricky back on the roundabout again. Notice one thing. You've trapped me. But this is the last job I'm pulling with you. Is that clear? It's taken a long, long time to trace you. And now I have, I'm in no hurry to terminate our association. I see.

I'm glad you do. But there's one thing I don't quite understand. Who's in this game apart from you and De Braga? That's all. They're operating alone now. One final question. This parcel you want collected, what does it contain? Well? Stones. I don't believe it. It's dope, isn't it? Dope?

I swear we never touched the stuff. Liar! That's why I cleared. I could see the way things were going. You're becoming more and more powerful in the misery of others. Amen. Get this straight, G.K. If I find there's dope in this parcel, I'll head this craft for the first reef I find and finish the lot of us. Easy, boy. That's wild talk. I mean it. All right, all right. So you mean it. Now calm down and get on with ordering stores and clearing customs.

We want to pull out just as soon as we can. Why, Miss Trudy, what are you doing waiting here? I've been waiting exactly 62 and a half minutes, Tiffy, for his lordship. What? It's my birthday. Oh, happy birthday, Miss Trudy. Thank you, but it hasn't been happy.

Ricky phoned me this morning, muttered something about a happy birthday and said, let's meet here for tea. Because his car had broken down or something unlikely. Oh, but it has. It's the generator. I couldn't care what it is. He hasn't pitched up. He's forgotten.

And I've been waiting here like a wretched fool. Well, that's not like him, miss. Tiffy, the more I become acquainted with Ricky Sloan, novelist, the more I begin to wonder about him. What do you mean, miss? Well, for instance, a wife and a report. Oh, rubbish. All right then, Tiffy. You're his motor man. But how much do you really know about him? Well, I, uh, I know everything. Very well, then. What was he doing ten years ago? Oh, I can't say offhand, miss.

I suppose he was, uh, sailing somewhere? Tiffy, his lordship has no past at all. Not that he cares to talk about anyway. He was sailing around, that's what he says, picking up ideas. Oh, that's a good answer, miss. I suppose he must have been. He's an excellent seaman and his knowledge of navigation is phenomenal.

Come on, miss. Let's go back to the craft, shall we? Never. There must be some good explanation why he hasn't come. Let's go and find out. Give him a chance to explain. Oh, come on, miss. This isn't like you. That's right. It isn't like me. Because I don't feel like me.

I feel disappointed, disillusioned and let down. Now, come on, miss. Walk back to the vessel with me and let's ask the boss what's been going on. Come on, come with me. All right, then. But I warn you, when I get there, I'm going to give his lordship a bit of my mind. Oh, Tiffin, must you... Oh, sorry, miss.

Well, there she is, spic and span. Hey, now wait a minute. Those lorries alongside. What about them? They're loading stores. Yes, I suppose his lordship is making ready for a moonlight flit to the wife and kids in Geneva. Oh, miss, he didn't aim to leave here, not until his book was finished and you were married. Tiffy, I don't want to go a step further.

This is proof of what I've been seeing. He's up to something. There's fuel drums going aboard. I don't understand this. He never mentioned it to me. Look, miss, I'll go on ahead. Yes, you do that, Tiffy. And tell his lordship goodbye. Don't act impulsive or hasty, miss. There's something going on here. Something strange. I'll go aboard and see what it's all about.

What are you wanting, something? Who are you? What are you doing aboard this craft as if you owned it? And where's the skipper? Are you a crew member? No, I'm the motor man. But I'm not answering any more questions.

Is the skipper in his cabin? You can go through. Well, thank you. I can go through as if I was a flippin' stranger. There. Here, what's going on, skipper? Who's this? I come aboard and this character really questions me. It's all right, Tippi. Yeah, but what's going on? That lorry out there with supplies. Are you getting underway, skipper? I'll be gone for a couple of weeks, Tippi. You'll be gone? Yeah, but what about me?

You sailing without me, Skipper? You, uh, you need a holiday. Oh, now look, Skipper, I don't need a holiday. What I do need most is a breath of sea air. If you're going anywhere, I want to come. I have the right to. Do as Mr. Sloan suggests. Take a nice long holiday. Now, where do you enter the picture, mister? How come you're only giving me orders? I have hired this craft. Hired it? You hired it?

Is that a fact, Skipper? Yes, that's right. Yeah, but Skipper, the High Albatross isn't that kind of craft. You've never hired her out before. This is different. Yeah, look, mister, the Skipper's capable of answering for himself, see? Look, little man, don't get me angry. I don't like you neither, mister. Tiffy, watch it. What's this character mean to you, Skipper? How come he's sitting here like he owes you and the High Albatross...

Miss Trudy was right. She was indeed. You've seen her? Yeah, sitting in the cafe waiting for you. Steaming mad she was. Don't blame her. It's her birthday today. I couldn't get there. Now, Captain, that's not like you. Where's this woman now? That's for me to know and you to find out. Look, Skipper, whatever business you've got with these characters, tell them to push off.

The smell around here is all wrong. Little man, you are making me impatient. What's going on, Skipper? This business can't be legitimate. I'm not prime, but I look upon you as a friend.

I wouldn't want you hurt. It'll be all right. Go, please. Yeah, a bunch of crooks, if you ask me. And you tied up with them. It don't make sense. There's the door. Use it. You really want me to go, Skipper? Yes. Yes, Tiffy. What do I tell Miss Trudy? Tell her... Tell her I'll be back.

This is a job I must do. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't wait. Start moving. Take your hands off me. Leave him alone. Stay where you are. I warned you of... Take this character out, the bragger. Dirty foreigner's gonna lay a finger on me. Let him have it, the bragger. Jimmy, watch out! That knife! You filthy murderer. Easy does it, Sloane. Easy now. We're pals, remember?

This character isn't dead, so don't worry. You can't move an inch without a knife, can you? I like protection. He's not going to protect you for good. Remember that? Now, don't try anything clever, Sloane. Just be sensible and cooperate. Get this straight. I'm not taking orders. You get this straight.

I hold the strings, and when I pull them, so you jump, jump, jump. And don't forget. Good morning, miss. What? Oh, sergeant. Oh, and what would you be up to, eh? Sitting here so quietly. Thinking black and disillusioned thoughts.

Do you know, Sergeant, I've been let down by two men in one morning. Two men let you down? Oh, I don't believe it. It's a fact. My ex-fiancé and his motorman. You mean Tiffy? That's right. He left me over an hour ago and said, I'll be back in a moment. I quote his words. Now, where did he go? To the ship, to see why they were loading. He knew nothing about it and neither did I. Hmm. So they are loading.

And taken on fuel. That's odd. Mr. Sloan was talking only yesterday and said he planned to leave here at the end of the year, after the two of you had got married. The gentleman has obviously changed his mind. Oh, that's not like him. But what is like him? I don't know. He's a man of mystery, Sergeant.

I'll tell you what, miss. Why sit here waiting? Why don't you go and ask Mr. Sloan what he's up to? But what of my pride? Oh, I'd say it best to lose a little pride and keep your disposition, miss. Now, go on. You have a little chat with the gentleman. Oh, all right.

But if I don't return to you in an hour, Sergeant, call up the ship to collect pieces of my dismembered body. Undoubtedly, he's a murderer as well. Oh, really, Mr. Things, you say. Now, off with you. You'll find you're quite wrong. I'm not happy about Sloane.

He's going to be difficult to handle. Leave him to me, Dabraga. I would like him disposed of. Oh, so you'd like that, eh? Dispose of him. You expect mass murder? Kill him and that motor man of his? Things would be safer with him out of the way. Leave me to handle Sloan. You know something, my confident friend? I saw Sloan watching you.

I didn't like the expression in his eyes. You're edgy, aren't you? I like being careful. Careful isn't edgy. Edgy is scared, and I don't like working with a fellow who's scared. He's apt to break when things get tough. You're made him worry about me. All right. Let's strike a bargain, huh? I leave you alone, and you leave me alone. That parcel worries me. Relax. We'll pick it up on time. But what if Sloan suspects it's dope?

You hurt him. He had a lot to say about it. Sloan, he'd never know about that. Hey, wait a minute. Look at that. Now, isn't she a beauty? And coming this way. That must be his girl. You see? More complications. Keep your eye on her. That should be easy enough. I'll go through to Sloan.

Mr. Sloan, sir, I'm here to announce a visitor. Visitor? Who? She's coming down the wharf now, and isn't she a beauty? But then you could always pick them, couldn't you? Oh, no. Truly. I'll go up on deck and talk to her. Oh, no. You sit right there and let her come down to you. Look, leave her out of this. She doesn't fit the picture at all. No, I don't suppose she does, really. She belongs to the present, doesn't she?

Future wife of the eminent novelist, Richard Sloan. I'm going up to her. You stay right here, period. I'm the skipper of this craft, and I'll do as I please. It's our craft, we're partners, and such happy partners. Stay put, boy, and I'll bring her down. On my own... See this? See it close? The same old knife. Don't tempt me to terminate our beautiful partnership, Ricky.

Now sit where you are. Sit. Sit, sit. No, just you wait. That's better. If she sees you here, she'll be suspicious. Let me handle her. And handling in the future, I'll do. And what a pleasure it will be. Oh, see her now. She's looking around.

She's acting casual, but scared, definitely scared. She isn't scared. She's furious. I'll go up and bring her down. Before you do, no rough stuff. Is that clearly understood? You know something? I've got a feeling that we'll be having a guest aboard. A guest? Yes.

We'll take her with us. I won't allow it. Even mention her and you talk of cooperating. She's going to come. Heaven help you if you harm her or even touch her. If you behave yourself, she'll be all right.

And as for the last part of it... Maybe by the time the trip is over, she won't mind if I do touch her. Devil! I can see we're going to have fun. Yes, indeed. It's going to be such fun. He left me. I watched Trudy climb aboard. I had no way of warning her. She wouldn't have heard if I shouted. So I sat there in that cabin...

In a moment, G.K. walked over to her, his right hand in his pocket fingering the blade of his knife. Then he turned and smiled at me. I knew that smile. So had other men. But they were dead. Good morning. Good morning.

Who are you? Ricky told me to come up and invite you down. I'm an old friend. Ricky hasn't even the decency to come up and greet me, is that it? Oh, he's busy, Miss Grant. How do you know my name? Oh, he said to me, go and collect this grant. I see. Where's Tiffy? Tiffy? The murder man. Oh, he hasn't been here. Oh, he hasn't, eh? Not that I know of.

Won't you come down to the cabin? Why is the high albatross being loaded? Ritchie never mentioned he was leaving. Didn't he? Oh, I suppose he'll tell you now.

La duca, Miss Grant. You needn't help me along. I can manage perfectly well, thank you. Oh, sorry. Allow me. Trudy. What's going on, Ricky? Who is this henchman of yours? Where's Tiffy? I know he's aboard. Sit down, Miss Grant. Look, don't try and handle me continually. I don't like it. Sorry.

I want to talk to you, Ricky, but not with him here. You've got to get used to me, Miss Grant. What do you mean? What does he mean, Ricky? He means you are coming on a trip with us. A little cruise off Cape Finisterre. Ricky, please tell me, what does this mean? This character has hijacked the boat, Trudy. What? You... Well, that sounds a little dramatic, but it's roughly what has happened. So that's why you didn't meet me at the cafe? Yes.

Oh, Ricky, this is terrible. Oh, not terrible. We should have fun together, Miss Grant. Ricky and I are old friends, aren't we? Aren't we? You may as well know everything, Curie. Maybe it would be a relief to tell you anyway. At one time I was in partnership with this character here. In partnership? We smuggled diamonds. Confession is good for the soul. Keep it up, Mr. Sloan. That's all.

It was never any more than diamond smuggling. Then he turned to dope and I backed out. Oh, Ricky. It was only diamond smuggling. I thought it would be much worse. What do you mean? Well, you've never mentioned your past and I thought you must be a bigamist. What? Oh, I promise you, Miss Grant, no woman has ever caught him and neither have the police, for that matter.

Constable? Yes, Sergeant? Seen anything of Tiffy Green lately? Oh, as a matter of fact, I had a pint with him last night when I was off duty. Did he say anything about Sloan Sailing? No, according to him, they'd be in port for another six months. Hmm. He had his loading fuel in stores. I was talking to customs. They said he'd asked for clearance. Not even Miss Grant knew he was leaving. All these writing blokes is very temperamental, Sergeant. Maybe, but I don't know.

That doesn't really add up. Why would he leave her? She said she was going aboard. If she didn't return here in an hour, I'd... I didn't take her seriously, but now... Would you like me to step aboard and find out what it's all about, Sergeant? I think the two of us are better, Constable. Just in case. Where? So they are. They look suspicious, too. See them talking to that foreman? I'll leave this to me, the bragger. I'll see what they want and head them off.

Good morning. Morning, sir. I was wanting to speak to Mr. Sloan. He's not aboard at the moment. Oh. Oh, I see. He's gone down to the village for fresh supplies. And Miss Grant? Oh, Miss Grant, she's gone with him. I see. Are you a friend of theirs? Very old friend. We're all going on this cruise together. Very nice indeed. So we're cruising together, eh? I see.

Well, there's a small matter I have to attend to, sir, whether Mr. Sloane is here or not. Huh? It concerns customs clearance. Customs clearance? They aren't happy. But why not? What's the matter? It's highly confidential, sir, but it concerns... Well, do you mind if I go down to Mr. Sloane's cabin? I know my way. But this is monstrous. You've no right to push your way aboard this craft and... Where's your search warrant? Here it is, sir, in good order and condition. Huh.

The cabin has been locked. Oh, it's easy enough to open it, sir. Now, if you'll stand aside, please. Oh, very well, then. Constable, you'd better wait for me ashore. Step lively now. Yes, Sergeant. Now, if you don't mind, sir, would you lead the way below?

That's odd. Yes, sir. Mr. Sloan and his typewriter. He must have returned unexpectedly. Why, so he has. Good morning, Mr. Sloan. Sergeant Brooks. It's about customs clearance, sir. Oh. They aren't happy, not at all. There's some irregularity. I want you to step ashore with me, sir. What's the matter? You'd better do what he says, Ricky.

Oh, very well. I'm sorry, Sergeant, but Mr. Sloan cannot step ashore. He has business to attend to aboard. And I'm sorry, sir, but this is the law.

After you, Mr. Sloan. You're being very difficult, Sergeant. The bragger, quick. Down, Sergeant, down. Truly down. Not so fast, my slippery friend. There's a score I've got to settle with you. Now, that knife. Give it to me, give it to me. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. Now try this for size. And this. And this. Well, Mr. Sloan, it certainly was some picnic. Constable nagged the other fellow, but he didn't have much fight left in him. Hmm.

It was lucky for us you came, Sergeant. Lucky? I wouldn't have, sir. I really did think you weren't aboard.

Then I heard you at the typewriter and I got the message. That wasn't Ricky, Sergeant. That was me. De Braga wouldn't allow him to move, but he didn't mind about me. I still don't understand what it all means, Mr. Sloan. There were a couple of smugglers who took a fancy to my boat. And here's a tip, Sergeant, that could lead to your promotion. Get a police launch off Cape Finisterre. There's a parcel waiting to be collected. They might find it interesting. Thank you, sir. Well, you've certainly arrived at the 11th hour, Sergeant.

We were all heading for serious trouble, but for the life of me, I couldn't see a way out. That's the way life is, sir. When things are at their worst, something always happens. 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. ♪♪

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