MORTMAIN: The Vengeful Ghost of Her First Husband
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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.

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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.

Is there any one of us, no matter how rich or poor, who wouldn't feel a thrill if we opened a piece of ordinary-seeming mail one day to read, this letter will make you a millionaire? Or, by the terms of my late client's will, I am authorized to tell you that you are a sole heir to his entire estate. That's what this story is about. Get in, Mr. Adams. Please do as he says, George. All right, Martha.

And now, where are you taking us, Mr. Falcone? I'm taking you and your wife for a ride, Mr. Adams. Our mystery drama, A Mexican Standoff, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Ian Martin and stars Joe Silver and Catherine Byers. It is sponsored in part by Buick Motor Division and Greyhound Package Express.

I'll be back shortly with Act One. Of course, all of us receive this kind of mail constantly. Dear Mr. or Mrs. Blank, your retirement estate is waiting if you only solve the puzzle on page seven.

I won't belabor the point. Come on, trash. Even more unpleasant terms have been applied to this approach to human greed and human need. And none of us are total proof against its lure. But this is the story of something else. Of a letter that might have fooled you, or me, or any of us listening. Something begun sheerly accidentally by an ambitious young reporter on the Nebraska Daily Journal. All right.

Down off here. Ed Grandy, City Desk. Tanya, I got your idea for the series. You want to have lunch in the spare rib and kick it around? Sure thing, Mr. Grady. Where better for an enterprising young lady reporter than the spare rib? That's where you chauvinistic pigs-figure-ass girls began. ♪

You don't understand, Mr. Grady. Why does everyone who works for me use that same line? I mean about this. I'm not talking about someone who's out to build an image, who sees himself as the next state or national congressman or even, the Lord help us, president. This is...

is a guy with no axe to grind. There ain't no such animal. You bet your sweet colon exclamation point and asterisk there is. Not only one, but millions of them. You know what the trouble with you is, Tanner? I'm Polish. Hey, let's not get ethnical. What I was going to say... My interest is ethics, but I interrupted you. Maybe it's why I put up with you. You're the only one who does.

What I was going to say is that just because you're a second generation, third, whatever the devil you are, you're always ready to wave the flag. So you came over on the Mayflower and... Watch it. I may be seventh generation American, but who said I came over on the Mayflower? I take it back. If you had, you'd have had to be the captain. So I was three ships back. What's that got to do with it? Like this. Since Watergate, we've kind of lost our image. We'll get it back.

We're still a world power. Oh, I didn't mean so much for the rest of the world. Maybe I was just thinking small, like here at home.

What here at home? How we look to our own eyes. Ourselves. Look, we're smack in the middle of a big bicentennial celebration, remembering how we were, what our forefathers did, how they brought us here. I think somewhere we ought to be taking a look at the best of what we are today. Like George Adams. Who?

I don't remember him. Maybe no one will, except the Daily Journal. But he's worth at least one day in the sun. Like how? Like he's 45. He's in the post office department and he's a verger at his church. He's got four grown-up kids, two of each kind. A wife he's been married to since he was 21.

He doesn't owe a nickel. He's a Boy Scout leader, member of the town council, drives the free town ambulance every Thursday afternoon and Saturday. He's on the PTA, the Good Neighbors Committee, works for ecology supervision, and heads up the Keep Our Town Clean and Bright Committee. Good Lord.

What does he take for headaches? Headaches? Doesn't his halo fit just a little tight? You see, Mr. Grady, that's just the kind of cynical attitude that's destroying the country. People don't want to feel like you. They don't? No. People are just crying to believe in simple, ordinary things again. Like good neighbors. And the Adams are perfect for this. Well, you can't knock the name.

Adams. And what's so bad about George? Father of our country. What's the wife's name? Martha.

You gotta be kidding. You haven't heard a thing yet. What do you figure her name was before she married? If you tell me Washington, I just may be the first man to throw up a chef's salad. Oh, calm yourself. But how does this grab you for substitutes? Martha Jefferson, I tell you, this whole story is a natural. All right, what'll it cost us? Mr. Grady, can't you get it through your head that these are two simple, happy people...

who are not looking for a thing out of life except the satisfaction of living it the way they do, which in my book is something very special, even if they don't know it.

I just wish we were a national publication, because I think George and Martha Adams would bring a breath of fresh, clean life into the whole rotten, uneasy world America has slipped into being. Okay, okay, okay. Take it easy before you knock the coffee over. I won't take it easy, because I know I'm on to something good and productive and right.

The Adams aren't the only people in this country like they are. I just think they're two damn good representatives of what most of our people are really all about. You know something, kid? You're so smoking hot about this, you're getting me all steamed up. Maybe I'll go for it.

All right, how do you see it? A full page, or at least three to four columns, op-ed. We can run it Monday through Friday with a big wrap-up in the weekend edition. And no payoff? Not a cent. What are you going to call it? Mr. Good Citizen USA. All right, Tanya. It's your baby. You got a deal. Here's good luck to Mr. George Adams, Mr. Good Citizen USA. Whew!

Did you get the mail, George? Oh, I sure did. There's so much stuffed in the box, a couple of them froze right to the metal. I guess Hiram didn't feel like lugging it on up to the house. You gonna bring it into the kitchen? You betcha. I want to warm up. Whew.

I'm sure glad I don't have to walk my route today, Martha. Oh, my, that is a load. Oh, boy. Oh. I knew I never should open my mouth to that reporter. Oh, no, you don't. He thought she was real cute, and you couldn't wait to open up and tell her all about yourself. Now, Ma, you know you're the one who really talked me into it. I thought it was about time you got some recognition. Recognition? Yeah.

Now, what are we going to do with all these letters? We can't even read them all, let alone answer them. Well, I have to admit, I just thought it was going to be in the local papers. I didn't figure it to get spread all over the country. Not only the U.S. of A. Seems like it's, well, it's got the foreign countries too. Look at this big fat one here. Why, that's special delivery. You better open it.

Me being in the post office, you should know special delivery don't mean much since the same old carrier has to deliver it, same as he does the regular mail. You always call the people up. Well, that's because when I'm not off, there's just two of us. I'm all alone my day off.

You got any coffee there? Sure. I'll get you some. I could use it. Cold clear to my bones. Now, let's see here what this one's all about. Maybe I should put the thermostat up, but the oil bill this month's so high...

Oh, George, I don't mean to question the good Lord, but every so often I wish you and me could get away from these cold winters and just lay in the sun somewheres, like you see in those advertisements in the papers. Here's your coffee. Go on now. Drink it while it's hot. George, what's the matter? Well, maybe the good Lord heard what you said.

Listen to this, Martha. Dear Mr. Good Citizen USA, I have just read your story reprinted in the overseas edition of the New York Press. As an expatriate, it restored all my pride and joy in our country, as long as it can produce men of integrity like you. Our country has done a good deal for me. I would like to repay it by doing something for a man who has done so much for it.

Enclosed, you will find two round-trip tickets for you and your wife to Mexico City, plus reservations at the Casa Contina Hotel for one month. An account has been opened in your name at the Banco del Hambra to cover all your expenses up to $5,000. God bless you, and let me assure you I do this only out of the goodness of your heart.

from an unknown and forever anonymous admirer. Well, if that don't beat all... Mexico. When are the tickets for? Next Monday. I could be packed and ready by then. Martha!

You're not thinking we can go. Why ever not? You got all kinds of time coming to you at the P.O. Oh, no, it isn't that, honey. I mean, how do we know this isn't some kind of a stunt? You know, a come on. People just don't go around giving something away for nothing. You have your whole life. You want to go? Yes, I do. But I'm not being offered it. It's you.

George, dear, it's cold. You've worked hard your whole life. Never taken a vacation, used all your holiday times to do things for others. You deserve to get away where it's warm and sunny and exciting. And for once, someone's doing something for you. It's not what I want to. I think you ought to. Well, honey, I just don't know. How do I know this is all...

Well, like the fellow says on the up and up. Well, why don't you let the people who got you into this check that out for you? Why not talk with Mr. Grady? Well, it all checks out, Mr. Adams. Tickets okay. Mexico City reservations are paid in advance, guaranteed. An account has been opened in your name at the bank, so I guess you're on your way. I don't know. Somehow I don't like to accept something for nothing.

Isn't that what this is?

You know, George, this is nice. Yeah, beats walking a mail route for sure. I thought I'd be scared, but I wasn't a bit. Even taking off. Oh, my, that was beautiful. Yeah, and so are you. I just think, my first time ever in a plane, and I had to wait till I was a middle-aged old lady. Oh, hush up now. You don't look a day older than when I married you. That's so long ago. You just can't remember. Oh, I remember, I remember. I won't ever forget it.

I was the luckiest guy in the world. Still am, Martha. Just one person luckier. Me. Can't you just hardly wait to get to Mexico? Hey, darn right. I wonder... What, dear? I wonder if that old anonymous admirer might just turn up there and make himself anonymous. Make himself what? Well, you know, make himself known who he is. Maybe what he really wants. Excuse me.

Would you be Mr. and Mrs. Adams? George Adams? That's right. Well, I reckon now you know who we are, what can I do for you? Oh, nothing for me. Just I'm here to do for you. I got a limousine outside. Take you to the hotel. Oh, well, we were just going to get the bus in. That's all right. Oh, sirs, no charge. No charge, Mr. Adams. Courtesy of the hotel.

And you wouldn't want me to lose my job, would you? Why, no, of course not. It's very kind of the hotel. So I'll get your bags, and then you can just follow me. There, you just climb right in, ma'am. Why, thank you.

What is it, Martha? Just sit down, Mrs. Adams, and tell your husband to follow right in. I'm all right, George. Better get in, dear. Oh, just a minute, honey. You know, you don't sound right. Something... Yeah, Mr. Adams. It's a gun. And Sal has one in your back. I think you better join us. Do as he says, George. Please. I don't have much druthers, do I? Hey.

Who are you? My anonymous friend? That's right. Only I won't be that much longer. Hey, where are you taking us? I'm taking you for a ride, Mr. Adams. It was all too easy, wasn't it? In this cynical world of ours, I'm afraid nobody gets anything for nothing. Free, no strings attached.

But what are the strings? And what could Mr. Good Citizen USA possibly have in common with an obvious gangster? I'll return shortly with Act Two. ♪♪

The Adams couldn't have known it, but on leaving the airport, the big, smoothly purring limousine, instead of turning southwest for the city, headed almost due north, deeper into the hills. In the fading light, passing an occasional policia before they left the airport proper, more than once, George Adams had the impulse to try to wave or shout to them.

But each time, a terrified but sensible Martha laid a restraining hand on his arm. Your wife is very wise. You wouldn't risk using that gun with cops around? Possibly not, although it does have a silencer. But even if you had tried to signal one of the fuzz, he wouldn't have seen you. Why not? You didn't notice on the way in. One-way glass, Mrs. Adams. You can only see out. And, uh...

Don't get any fancy ideas of grabbing the gun, Mr. Adams. You couldn't get out of here without Sal opening up from outside. I suppose the glass between us and the driver is bulletproof? Yeah, it's all bulletproof. What do you want with us, Mr. Anonymous or whoever you are? You don't recognize me? Should we? I used to get a lot of press coverage. A lot more than Mr. Good Citizen here.

I was number one also, only not quite in the same class. The mobsters. Falcone. Gino Falcone. Sure, sure. The picture was always up on the bulletin board just a few years ago. Bulletin board? Yeah, at the post office. Oh, yeah, that's right. I forgot you were at the department. You have something to do with the post office, Mr. Falcone? Not exactly.

It's just that for a while there, I was a real celebrity, like your husband. One of the ten most wanted. Right, Mr. Adams? Yes, but I thought you were in Italy or somewhere. Yeah. So are most people, I hope. Including Uncle Sam. Only I ain't anymore. I'm Gino Falcone. Right here in Mexico where the U.S. can't touch me.

But, Mr. Adams, I got two million bucks in cash waiting for me in the States, and I can't get to it. So that's where you come in. I don't get you. You will. Just as soon as we get where we're going, I'm going to tell you just how. Sure you won't join me? No, thanks. We don't drink. Oh, yeah, yeah, that's right. I forgot.

He's a Boy Scout. Well, here's looking at you. Okay, let's get down to cases. I want you to run a little errand for me. I'm not getting mixed up in anything criminal. Oh, who said I was? Well, it has to do with you. It figures that way. Listen, mister, don't make it hard on yourself or me. You're going to do just what I tell you, and I'm going to tell you why. Because either you run my little errand, or you and the missus here run out of time.

I'll have the both of you drop in Lake Tococo for a little scuba diving party. Only you won't have no tanks or masks. Just a couple of cement fins. George, why don't you let Mr. Falcone tell us what he wants? That's very sensible, lady. You just listen to your missus, George. All right. Go ahead. I'm listening. It ain't much, George. Just think of it as another mail route. Only this time, you ride first class all the way. Where?

New York City. What for? You'll be given an address. You'll go to that address by yourself without getting in touch with no one. And you'll let yourself in with these keys. Only first of all, you're going to buy a crowbar. Crowbar? What for if I have the keys? That'll be for after you get in. How can I walk into a building carrying a crowbar without anybody... You'll shove it down your trouser leg, hook it over your belt.

You'll be a little stiff-legged, but you're only going up one flight of stairs anyway. Look, this is all crazy. Shut up and listen, punk. Please, dear, let him finish. Hey, better. Now, once you get in, you go in the living room. The wall on your right-hand side, in the middle, is a place that sticks out a couple feet from floor to ceiling, like it used to be a fireplace, which it was.

Only it's been closed up and plastered shut for years like it was just a wall, right? If you say so. There's one of them false fireplaces and mantles standing in front of it. Now take all the junk off the mantle and move the fireplace. It ain't all that heavy. Then you take the crowbar and from about two and a half feet above the floor down, you knock all the plaster out till you get to the wire lath.

Rip that out, and you'll find two dark blue suitcases with combination locks. Bring them back to me. That's all there is to it. Where's Martha going to be all this time? Why, she and Sal are going to be at the hotel. Sal will be with her to see that room service is sending up two meals three times a day. And we know you're doing what you're supposed to do and keeping your mouth shut.

Otherwise... Why, you... Take it easy, cousin. Bring those bags back safe and sound, and you and the old lady can get started on a Mexican holiday just like you planned. Well, what's in those two suitcases? Why, George, you're not thinking. The money, of course. Why can't you get it yourself, Mr. Falcone? Because a joker that used to be my best friend got me framed on a lousy income tax rap.

The only way to beat it was to get out of the country and fast. Now, even Italy was getting too hot for me. It looked like they might be able to extradite me. And besides, something else came up. Ah, well, that don't matter now. Are you really serious about all this? Baby, I don't kid around, never. I mean, this apartment. What about whoever lives there? She don't anymore. She? Your wife? No, my mother.

She died. Oh, I'm sorry. So am I. The day I read the obituary, that was the same day I read about you. I knew I had to move fast, and I figured you was the answer, so I sent the letter. Why me? Cousin, you got any notion what most guys could do to get their hands on $2 million cash that can't be traced?

Why, they'd slit their own mother's throats to get their hands on it. You're the kind of guy, sure. Don't kid yourself. Almost any Joe Blow. He'd run out on his wife, his kids, anything to be that rich. So when I found out my ma had died, knowing I couldn't take the chance on going there myself, I started figuring who I could send.

And what it boiled down to was the one guy I knew I could trust all the way was Mr. Good Citizen USA. Well, what about coming back through customs? Suppose they want those bags opened. I'm going to tell you how much I trust you. I want to give you the combination. But they got false bottoms and you're going to have clothes on top. Only, uh...

They ain't gonna open your bags. Well, there's no way you can be sure of that. Ooh, but the best. You think anyone's gonna fuss over John Wayne's luggage or Hubert Humphrey or Billy Graham?

Same way they ain't going to have a worry in the world about you as long as they know who you are. Well, how would they know that? Trust me to get that to the press. Number one citizen off for Mexico vacation. They think it kind of strange. I mean, not even knowing us real well that George would be going alone without me.

You left ahead of time from Nebraska, Mrs. Adams, so your husband could fly to New York for a secret conference on a new high position for the elections. Everything can be covered. You better believe it. Now look, I'm playing for all the marbles here. I need that dough bad enough to risk anything. All right, that's enough talk. Let's get moving.

Martha? You just do what has to be done, George. The Lord will provide like he always does. It just doesn't seem right, mister. Where'd all that money come from? Why, you care. I mean, next to your missus there. I guess you're right. Okay. Okay, let's get it over with. Let's get those suitcases. All right, Mr. Adams. You'll go down the back staircase and out to the rear. Your driver will be waiting for you.

But get going. Are you going down with me? You kidding? Me and the missus will be here. Nice and cozy. Waiting for you to get back. What's to worry? It's a suite. With two bedrooms. Look, if you so much as... Come on, crumb. The lady should excuse me, but she ain't my type. Don't worry about me, George. I'll be all right. Just get back as soon as you can. Well, I have to be back on the flight they booked, honey. I'll see you then. Bye, darling. Bye.

Don't worry about me. God's with us. Same as he was when he gave you to me. He won't take you away. Okay, Adams, you got company to make sure you get on that plane. So don't break it up, man. You got as much riding on this as the rest of us. There. Queen of Spades. The unlucky lady. I know you don't want that, Mrs. Adams. Hey. Hey, Mrs. Adams. What, Sal? What?

I discarded. Nothing you want. Didn't you see? I'm sorry, no. My thoughts were very far away. I was just thinking of George in New York. You discarded the Queen of Spades. Yeah. I think I'll take it. It's beginning to get dark here. I suppose it must be really dark there. Yeah, two hours later after dinner already. Well, you gonna discard? Oh, yeah. Well, I have gin. Oh, no. Again?

Boy, what luck. It's a good thing we're paying for pennies. I wish that was the game George was in. He must be at that apartment now. How'd I ever get into this? Just like he said. I'm going to get this crowbar out of here. Get these things off the mantel. Now. See, now I'll get the fireplace here.

Okay. That's it. The crowbar. I hope this doesn't make too much noise. Okay, just hold it right there. Don't even breathe. I've been waiting for someone like you.

In the strange apartment, poor George Adams finds his backbone turning to jelly with total guilt. While his stomach churns with the kind of terror that most of us, thank heaven, only feel in nightmares from which we gratefully awake. But George Adams is awake and is guilty and this nightmare will not go away.

I'll return shortly with Act Three. The crowbar in George's hands has already made two deep and devastating bites into the plaster wall. He stands, his arms raised for the third blow, the bar balanced in his hands, his eyes blinking against the powdered particles. Behind him is a presence,

Still only a voice, but in George's mind, a voice as chilling as the voice of conscience or the voice of doom. You heard me, buddy. I got you covered. Now you just keep your hands over your head like they are and drop that crowbar. All right, now just lean forward and put your hands high on the wall. Now come on, come on, move.

Like that? What are you, a joker? You've never been frisked before? All right, okay. Okay, you're clean. You can put your arms down now and turn around. Who are you? Uh, who are you? I'm asking the questions. This isn't your apartment. How'd you get in here? Well, how did you? I had a key. So did I. Where'd you get your key? Oh, I could ask you the same question. Only you're not in the spot to force any answers. I am. This is my enforcer.

Now, come on. Who are you? You want me to make you take off your jacket, look through your wallet? I guess at the point of a gun, I couldn't stop you. Okay. My name is George Adams. You one of Falcone's boys? I don't know what you mean. All right, I'll spell it out. Who sent you here? A brutsi? No. Louis Carlotta? I never heard of him. It couldn't have been. Was it Gino Falcone himself? No.

Okay, don't bother to answer. Brother, that's a rocker. So he's alive. Who? Falcone. You know something? You're really a hard case. Or what? Or if you're not feeble-minded, you just might be... So wait a minute. Maybe we should get off this merry-go-round and just start over. My name is John McCarthy, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Here, my identification. What? Is this for real, Mr. McCarthy? What are you, putting me on?

What else do you want? My fingerprints? No, it's just... Well, I never saw an identification card or anything from an FBI man before. I never even saw an FBI man before. I don't know. I never bumped into anything like you before either. You think we can talk now? Well, sure. Anything you want to know. Okay. Suppose we start with just what you're doing with a crowbar in an apartment that doesn't belong to you. Knocking down the walls. Let me in, crowbar!

I knew your face was familiar. Sure, sure, I read about you in the paper. So that's how you got here. Yeah, but what I don't understand is how you... How I got here? Uh-huh. Well, when Mrs. Fortaleone was dying, she called my mom. They've known each other most of their lives, and she was all alone and turned to her best friend. Mom asked me to go over with her, but we were too late. Well, she...

She asked for Gino just before she died. I figured he didn't get here in time for her, but he might in time for me. To arrest him? To kill him. I took a blood oath to get even with that lousy murdering skunk. Why? He was once my best friend, see? We grew up together on the Lower East Side. Me, Gino, and Frankie. Frankie? My kid brother. We used to live in the same tenement. The McCarthy's...

And the Portoliones. I don't understand who these Portoliones are. Well, didn't you notice the name on the mailbox downstairs? I didn't look. I just had the apartment number. Well, that's Gino's family name. When we were around 15, his father died and his mother married again, a bum named Falcone. He walked out on her in a couple of years, but not before he'd stoned her blind and settled Gino into being a sneak thief and then into the numbers and then prostitution, drugs...

Finally to tie in with the mob. Well, that's okay. That ended a friendship. But what a man does is his own business. Only he didn't have to drag Frankie down in the muck with him. How did Gino manage to do that? We were just tough kids. Like you had to be in our neighborhood. Gino was the toughest, see? We all sort of looked up to him because he was smart, too, see? But Frankie worshipped him. Gino could do no wrong. Yeah, he steered Frankie wrong, all right.

It's too bad he isn't still around to see it. He died? He died. How? I shot him. What? I killed my own brother. How could you? Well, you don't think I did it deliberately, do you? Then how? How did you? When we went to pick up Gino on the income tax rap, Frankie was one of the jerks who tried to protect him while he slipped away and left them all holding the bag. Frankie's thanks from Gino was a bullet in the gut. It had to be my bullet. Oh.

I don't know what to say, Mr. McCarthy. There's nothing to say. There's no words. Just this. I got a special bullet waiting for Gino. Now I know where to find him. And at last I can deliver it personally. No. What do you mean, no? You're not going to find out from me how to get to him. What side of the law are you on? I always thought that would be easy to answer. But now, as long as there's any danger to Martha, there's only one law I'm going to follow.

Anything that protects her. Suppose I arrest you right now and you don't get back with the money. Then what do you do? You wouldn't do that, Mr. McCarthy. You lost a brother. It wasn't your fault, but it was your hand that killed him. You're going to force me to do that to my wife? I'll tell you what. First off, let's you and me find out if the money's there, and then we'll talk. So go ahead. You get busy with that pro bar. Okay. Okay.

So, the suitcases were there, all right. All right, now let's see what's in them, huh? You know how to open these? Well, he had to give me the combination so I could pack some clothes in them in case customs made me open them. Well, let's get them open. Just give me a minute here. Let's see. 13 right, 8 left, 24 forward. That's it there. Oh, boy.

It's empty. Let's have a look. No. No, no, there's a false bottom. Here. Yeah. There it is. Well, how do you like the looks of that? Oh, I never saw a thousand dollar bill before. Or a million in cold cash. We'll check, but I think we can take it for granted the other bag holds the same. Now.

Where do we go from here? I know where I go. You be careful with that, Mr. Adams. You're not used to handling guns. No, I'm handling this one until I get my wife away, safe from the danger she's in. Now, let's be sensible, Mr. Adams. You're not going to start shooting. And the government has no intention of jeopardizing a citizen's safety, especially our number one citizen. I'll tell you what. Yeah? Let's make a deal. A deal? What kind of a deal? A deal.

Your plane doesn't leave till tomorrow morning. You open the other suitcase and you let me have it overnight. Oh, no. I'm not going to do anything with the money except have it marked. Oh, no. Then Falcone would know. I can assure you no one but the Bureau could possibly know. At least we'll have a way of tracing him after you're out of the picture. I don't know. How can I trust you? How can you do anything else?

I hate to point it out to you, Mr. Adams, but we are now at a point that is known by many names, but which in this case can be called the Mexican standoff. If you don't trust me and the law, who else can you trust? Thank heaven. I thought you'd never get here. Just relax, George, relax. I had to wait till the reporters were through with you. Is the money still there? Trust me.

and covered up with a nice selection of summer suits for a Mexican vacation. I heard your plane called, so so long and good luck. I want to thank you, Mac. And once I get Marth out of this, I hope you nail him. Don't you worry. This is the one that won't get away. How do you mean? Vamos, amigo. Your plane's about to take off. Hasta la vista. Hasta la vista.

You wanted something, Mr. Adams? Yeah. We're not heading for the city. Where are you taking me, Sal? To deliver the money to Mr. Falcone. Where's my wife? Like I told you. She's waiting for you. Why don't you do just the same? What? Wait. It'll all be laid out for you when the time comes. Well, it all seems to be here.

You had no trouble? I just followed instructions.

Pretty good hiding place, huh? Why not a bank? A safe deposit box? No, Mrs. Adams, no chance. Big Brother Government knew every step I made, except this one. All right, now, I did what you wanted. I brought you what you sent me for. Now, can Martha and I go? You anxious for that gay Mexican holiday? I don't want any holiday at your expense. Now, look, I never go back on my word.

Only now I can promise you both a much longer one to share together. Now, you put that gun away or I'll take it away from you. I don't think you'd make it. George, don't. Don't you see? If he doesn't do it, he'll have one of his guns. He'll take care of us. Now, run, Martha. I won't let him get away with it. Are you all right, George? Mac...

Mac, what are you doing here? The Marines have landed, courtesy jet military plane that beat you here by a couple of hours. And a beeper the FBI built into one of the suitcase handles. Oh, but you promised. I asked you to trust me. Now, there's a difference. Come on, George, face it. I knew even if you didn't, the moment you gave Gino the money, you were as good as dead. And your wife. Martha. No, no, no, no. She's fine. She's fine. And so are you. A bullet creased your skull, you'll have a headache, but you'll live. Oh.

And Gino? Gino died rather suddenly from lead poisoning. Probably the best way out. He left enough money to cover his back taxes, and he won't cost the government a wasted bundle and a long trial. Well, I suppose you're glad you had your revenge back. You finally used that bullet, huh? No. I'm kind of lucky, come right down to it. Mexican police fired such a barrage, I'll never know what bullet killed him.

But forget about me. Let's get you to Martha so you can enjoy that vacation. I wouldn't touch a penny of Gino's dirty money. Well, that's up to you. As it happens, you won't have to. Remember your wanted poster? There was a $10,000 reward for information leading to Gino's capture. Well, that's all yours. You can still have that Mexican adventure Martha wants so much. Only this time, it'll be on the U.S. government.

So all is well that ends well. And this could hardly have ended better. Extradition is a tangled web. And so many crooks use it to entangle legitimate government prosecution against them. This time the spider was caught in his own sticky web. I'll be back shortly.

So Martha and George did have their Mexican vacation after all.

The money credited to the bank account in their name by Gino was covered by the reward and the plane fares and every incidental expense except one, the trip to New York and back to pick up the suitcases and the money. That was an expense that Martha refused to allow George to defray.

It had cost both of them enough in anguish and suspense so that neither of them should have to pay for it in money as well, which I wouldn't argue against. Would you? Our cast included Joe Silver, Catherine Byers, Robert Dryden, and Sam Gray. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by Greyhound Package Express and Buick Motor Division.

This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre. Until next time, pleasant dreams. ♪♪

♪♪♪

Career changers, including veterans and active duty service members. Your transition starts here. Go from GI to IT in a matter of months. Become a certified cyber warrior with training at My Computer Career. Cyber security specialists are in high demand, offering IT pros great opportunities and a rewarding lifestyle while protecting our people, liberty, and treasured institutions from cyber threats.

Deploy your career in IT today. Learn more at mycomputercareer.edu. SkillBridge and other VA benefits are available to those who qualify. If you work in healthcare, you rely on your training, focus, and team to make decisions. You rely on your mind. But how often do you listen to your heart? Do you want to work in a universal healthcare system that puts people first?

Do you want to live in a welcoming community and care for others in a place that cares about you? If so, follow your heart to British Columbia, Canada. Opportunities await at bchealthcareers.ca. A message from the Government of British Columbia. Strange Adventures!

The performance was almost over when the two clowns stopped their antics and made their exit from the big top. It had been raining, and the night air chilled them through their costumes. Tony Pirelli, a short roly-poly man dressed in a voluminous red and white costume, spoke to his tall companion as they passed the cook tent. Say, how about a cup of java before we change? It'll knock the edge off of this chill. Slim Wagner, dressed in a black and white skeleton garb that covered his whole body, turned to his friend. Yes, yes.

Yeah, it sure is a cold night, all right. Kurt Ringer, the manager of the small circus, entered the tent as the two clowns were finishing their coffee. The men had no use for the manager and hated his slave-driving ways. Ringer felt this dislike and used it as a whip to goad the men under him. His voice had the edge of sharp steel as he spoke. Pirelli!

I saw you talking to Nancy Stokes again tonight. I've told you before to stay away from my girl, and I mean it. The short man rose. His fist doubled, but his partner held him back. Oh, let him be, Tony. Let him school. We want no trouble. Maybe we'd better get a job with another show.

Another job? Listen, you broken-down has-beens, there's not another circus in the country that would have you. The manager watched the two clowns as they crossed the grounds to their tent, hoping that he had incurred enough hatred within them for them to leave the show and Nancy Stokes.

A short while later, an urgent telephone call brought Inspector Jonathan Hawk of the Homicide Bureau to the circus grounds and to the tent occupied by the clowns. It was a grim scene. Inspector Hawk looked down at the still form of the little man Tony Porelli. Tony Porelli, who had made thousands laugh, had played his last show, his life strangled out of him by an unseen assailant.

Gathered with Hawk in the tent were Kurt Ringer and Slim Wagner. The tall clown was still dressed in his weird skeleton costume, his thin body visibly nervous under the skin-tight garb. The circus manager began his story. Inspector Hawk, I've been watching these two guys for some time. They made like they were very good friends, but they really hated each other. Professional jealousy, I guess. I see. You say you caught this man in the act of strangling his partner. Yeah, that's right. When he saw me, he started to run, but I caught him and held him while one of my men called the police.

Slim Wagner moved menacingly toward his accuser. He's lying. I stepped out of the tent a minute. When I came back, he was here with my friend. Inspector Hawk turned back to the circus manager. His gaze fell upon Kurt's long, strong hands. Suddenly, a pair of handcuffs flashed out and snapped upon the wrist of the surprise manager. Ring up. I'm holding you for the murder of Tony Pirelli. Your little plan had a slip-up.

Inspector Hawk called in a policeman to take charge of the prisoner. Yes, ringer. You should have waited until the clowns had removed their costumes and makeup before you did your little job. You see, there are no signs of grease paint on Wagner's hands, but there is a trace on yours. Grease paint from the neck of the man you strangled. This is Pat McGeehan in Hollywood, California, saying goodbye from my writer, Charles Crowder, and inviting you to tune in again to another tale of Strange Adventures.

♪♪♪

Career changers, including veterans and active duty service members. Your transition starts here. Go from GI to IT in a matter of months. Become a certified cyber warrior with training at My Computer Career. Cyber security specialists are in high demand, offering IT pros great opportunities and a rewarding lifestyle while protecting our people, liberty, and treasured institutions from cyber threats. Deploy your career in IT today.

Learn more at mycomputercareer.edu/cwp. SkillBridge and other VA benefits are available to those who qualify. If you work in healthcare, you rely on your training, focus, and team to make decisions. You rely on your mind. But how often do you listen to your heart? Do you want to work in a universal healthcare system that puts people first?

Do you want to live in a welcoming community and care for others in a place that cares about you? If so, follow your heart to British Columbia, Canada. Opportunities await at bchealthcareers.ca. A message from the Government of British Columbia. Adventures by Morse. Courtney Morse presents...

It's Dismal to Die, featuring Captain Friday. If you like high adventure, come with me. If you like the stealth of intrigue, come with me. If you like blood and thunder, come with me.

When Captain Friday and Skip Turner arrived in New Orleans on the return home from the Chilean jungles, a telegram was waiting for them. It read, "'Implore your help. Impossible to contact police. Can you meet me? Lake Drummond, South Carolina, on the edge of Dismal Swamp immediately.'"

You decided to go to Lake Drummond, South Carolina, Captain Friday? No, it was Skip. He made up our minds in about two shakes of a lamb's tail. You're doggone right I did. You forgot the important part of that telegram. What's that? It was signed, Julie Lane. The damsel in distress. Well, you can't leave a poor helpless little female wringing her hands in the middle of the dismal swamp in South Carolina, can you?

Anyhow, not a pretty little one like Julie. How'd you know what she was like? You never heard of her before. Brother, when it comes to female women, I got second sight. That was as pretty a hunk of gal as ever I set eyes on, too. Black hair and blue eyes and skin like wild honey right out of the cone. And married, Skip. Don't forget that. No. No.

I ain't forgetting the look on her face when she told us her husband was lost in the swamp. Lost? Yes, that's the word she used. She said her husband had been lost in the dismal swamp for more than a month. That's all she told us until we were deep in the swamp. They reached Lake Drummond just after sunrise on a brilliant October morning when a dawn wind ruffled the water, stained by juniper and cypress, to the color of old Madeira. There they met Julie Lane.

He was waiting for them with a flat-bottomed boat, waiting to pull them into the heart of the swamp, waiting fearfully and begging them to hurry, hurry. In five minutes, they'd left the wide reaches of the lake behind them. Giant cedars and cypress, older than the memory of man, blotted out the sun. Her husband was lost, and there was no time to talk.

That's all she would say. They pushed their way through networks to tangled grapevine and honeysuckle, overhanging the stream. Captain Friday and Skip alternately poling and fending the boat from snags of fallen timber. The girl, Julie, hung over the bow, scanning the water for Cypress knees, waiting just below the surface to rake the bottom of the boat. Snag, Skip, watch it. Yeah, I got it.

Oh, man, oh, man. The fella sure picked the right name for this place. Dismal and dark and damp and crawling. The bottom of a well would be cozy by comparison. Yeah. At least well water looks like water. This stuff looks like all Custer's army got themselves massacred in it. How you coming, Julie? All right. Stop pulling now, Captain Friday. Oh? Cypress knees under water, whole forest of them.

I'll have to pull this through. Hey, let me up front. I'll do it. No, no, you just waste time. I know how to do it. I know the channel. Okay, but I feel awful foolish squatting here like a blamed engine while a little old scrap of squaw no bigger than my arm does the hard work. Just sit quietly. Skip. Yeah? You smell something funny. Yeah, this whole stinking swamp. No, I mean about the girl's story. Oh, a fish factory couldn't reek no higher.

husband lost in the swamp but she don't call the cops and doesn't call in anybody for more than a month after he's gone nobody knows about it except us and the boy's father what i want to know is why ain't julie's father here instead of her you think if one of them had to go traipsing around this swamp but it'd be him if he's able-bodied oh he was able-bodied enough to come camping on leg drumming with julie and his son back when julie's husband disappeared yeah that's right

Captain Fry, do you think the whole story's a phony? You guess there ain't no husband? Oh, I imagine there's a husband, all right. But nobody but a darn fool or a dinosaur would wander off alone and risk losing himself in this primeval wilderness. There's got to be more to it than that. Yeah. Well, as soon as we get us a chance to talk, little Miss Julie's going to have a raft of questions to answer. There. Yeah. That puts us in a...

Clear water again. Hey, the creek's widening out. Oh, yes. Use the oars, Captain Friday. We'll make better time. You're the boss. Nothing but a few cypress to watch for. Man, I'm just the fellow to do the watching, too. Come on back here, Julie, and give yourself a rest. I don't want a rest. I'm perfectly all right. Sugar, you're a real smart addition to out orders. Now, let's see how good you can take it. Give me your hand. Oh, I'm sorry. I...

Didn't mean to. Oh, you just plain chucked it out, asshole. Come on. Easy now. There. Now sit yourself. But you'll have to keep a sharp lookout.

It's so hard to see in this twilight. Yeah. Them moss-hung trees that's closed in on us till you think we was rowing around in midnight. That never gets light in the swamp. Well, don't you worry. I got eyes like a hootie owl. Well, get up there in the bow and keep those hoot owl eyes peeled. Those snags won't move out of our way. Somebody's always taking the joy out of life. Okay, Cap. Hold it to the center of the creek. Right. Now, Mrs. Lane, what's happened? I...

What? The story. A real one this time. I've heard the story, Captain Prattie. Except for one thing. Don't you see I couldn't stop to explain? We had to hurry to get here first. Hold it, Skip. One thing at a time. You told me that you, your husband, and his father... made a camping trip to Lake Drummond. Your husband wandered off one day and never returned. I take it he wasn't lost after all. No. Captain Prattie...

He was kidnapped. Uh-oh, now we got some. Why didn't you go to the police? Look around you. What good do you think the police were doing here? I've always lived close to the swamp. I love it. I know it as well as anybody. But there are miles of it I've never seen. Nobody has.

Except maybe a descendant of some old Cajun or swamp family. Cajun? The Cajuns are a queer mixture of the backcountry people. Live to themselves. They've had these swamps to themselves for ages. Of course, they had to fight snakes and bears and quicksand. Quicksand? Is that stuff in here, too? Plenty of it. That's another reason I couldn't ask the police for help. The note from the kidnappers warned me.

They said they'd put Johnny in quicksand, alive. Oh, great. They promised to return him safe if he paid up? They said they'd bring him back if we did what they said. But they didn't want money. What? Oh, whoever heard tell a kidnapper's not interested in dough. These aren't. Well, then what do they want? I can't tell you. Now wait, Mrs. Lane. How do you expect us to help you if you won't say what's behind all this? But I don't know what's behind it. Honestly, I don't.

Oh, Captain Friday, what does it matter what they want just so we save Johnny? You don't trust the kidnappers to set him free? They'll never free him. He's been with them a month.

He must know something about them. They wouldn't dare let him go. Well, maybe you've got something there, sister. Easy, Cap. The creek's getting narrow again. Oh, you can still use the oars for a while. Well, we're almost there. Well, pardon me if I sound curious, but just where is that? The place where I lost the dummy. The dummy? What's a dummy got to do with it? Not a dummy. The dummy. The big, shaggy cajun who lives in the edge of the swamp and can't talk. I followed him here.

As far as I bend up ahead. And lost him. Losing folks seems to be an awful bad habit of yours. Well, you just try tracking somebody through this country. You think this dummy had something to do with your husband's disappearance? I know he did. Once a week he goes into the swamp. And each time I lose him, this is his day to go in again. I thought if we could get here first, we could hide and watch him. Oh, so that's the reason for the hurry. Yeah.

Reach me the pole, will you, Skip? Why, sure. It's pretty narrow here for Rowan. We only had a few minutes start as it was. The dummy always leaves right after... What's up? Listen. Hear that? Hey.

It's the dummy. Yeah, right behind us. Skip, grab those vines. See if you can haul us into the bank. You bet your life. Captain Foddy, it's only a few yards to the bend. Can't we get around it so we can walk? Not a prayer. Our only chance is to take cover. Let's work her in under the vines, Skip. Yeah, okay. But it takes some doing. This stuff's been here since the year... Yeah, there you go.

Now, that ought to do it. We're out of sight now. Mrs. Lane. Yes? Answer my questions, but keep your voice down. All right. How did you know the dummy was mixed up in this? After the first kidnap note was delivered, I watched. The dummy brought others. Did you question him? No. He can't speak or write, and he pretends to be more feeble-minded than he is. But he's not crazy, Captain. Does he know you've spotted him? I'm sure he doesn't. If he did... Oh, there. He's close. Oh, I...

Glory, hallelujah. Do you see what I see? I do. That ain't a man. It's a gorilla. I told you he was big. You didn't exaggerate none. Six feet six if he's an inch. And built like a tar barrel.

Lady, if that guy had caught on to you and wrapped a hand around your sore foot, he'd know. I know. I've been terrified, but I had to find Johnny. Listen, that sounds like a gorilla, too. It's the way it talks to himself. He's around the bend. Shove us out, Skip. Yeah. I'll help, Captain.

got the pool ready. That ain't necessary. Here it goes. Like a rabbit out of a hole. A couple of good thrusts ought to do it. Yeah. Okay, now, hard apart. Swell. Hold on. I can see it. Hey. What is it? Well, look for yourself. He ain't here. But he's gotta be. We were right behind him. He couldn't just vanish. He has.

Are there any cross streams here he might have turned down? Not as far as the next bend. But he didn't have time to get that far. Well, then he's taken to a trail. Mrs. Lane, you stay here. Skip and I are going to search the banks. Right with you, Cap. Here I go. Look out. The quicksand. It's all right. This stuff will hold. It's like balancing on top of wet jelly, though. We won't go far. If anything frightens you, sing up. Oh, just hurry, please. You'll lose him. On my way. Get going, Skip.

I'll keep in your tracks, sir. Oh, going right. I can use somebody handy if this ground starts grabbing me. Nothing to do but slam straight through these vines. Stay as close to the bank as you can. There's got to be a trail here somewhere. Yeah, well, if there is, it'll show up like a lighthouse in a fog. And I could show you some light, too. It's darker than the inside of a cow. Yeah. Funny to think it must still be daylight up above this jungle. Yeah.

Maybe we've made better time searching the stream for the dummy's boat. Oh, sure. He had to hide it somewhere. And at least we could tell our elbow from third base.

If you want to go back. I might try this a little further. That's Julie. Stay with me, Skip. We're coming, honey. Can you see where you're going? A little light from the creek along the trail we broke. There it is straight ahead. Lucky we didn't get far. We're here, Mrs. Lane. We're here, but she's gone. The boat's gone, too.

They both vanished. Just like that dummy guy. But you couldn't be out of shouting range. Hey, Julie. Mrs. Lane. Can you hear me? Oh, yes. She can hear you. This charming Mrs. Lane. But I don't think she will answer. Hey, who's that? I can't see anybody. No, senoras. You cannot see me. I don't think you ever will.

I don't think you will live so long. Captain Friday and Skip Turner have gone with Julie Lane in search of the girl's kidnapped husband. They are deep in the heart of dismal swamp South Carolina, a fearful region of ancient moss-hung trees, swarming vines, rotten earth, and quicksand.

so buried in vegetation that not even a bird can live there. They were trailing the dummy, a huge gorilla-like descendant of a Cajun swamp family. But around a bend in the creek, the dummy vanished. When Captain Friday and Skip left Julie to search for him, she vanished too, and their boat disappeared with her. They shouted for her, but their only answer came in the mocking voice of an unseen man. No, senores, you cannot see me.

I don't think you ever will. I don't think you will live so long. Oh, you don't, huh? You just step out and show yourself, and we'll see who lives the longest. Hold it, Skip. You, whoever you are, is Mrs. Lane with you? Si, senor. She is here. Morales has told you. Ah, so that's your name, Morales. I won't forget that. Listen, if Julie's there with you, why don't she answer us? If you've hurt that girl... But she is not hurt.

It is because she does not wish to be heard that she will remain quiet. What are you talking about? Have you forgotten the dummy? Me? I am not so big, but he is much mine. I do not think he'll like it that the Senor Lane leads you here. She make one sound, the great hand of the dummy will reach out and, like chicken...

For the bar. Goodbye, senores. Oh, that low town. Listen, Morales. Maybe we can make a deal. So? And what have you to offer? Safety. For you and your gang. We'll get out of here and keep our mouths shut. You can go right ahead with your dirty work. And from me, you want what? The girl. Only the girl?

Not the young husband, too? He'll have to take his chances. Just give us Mrs. Lane. No! No, Captain Roddy! Johnny, you... Hey, what are you doing to Julie? Enough, Tommy, enough. You see, senora, I do not wish to hurt you. Not yet. Such a beautiful lady. Come on, Morales. What about my offer? Your offer? I spit on your offer.

I am safe now, Senor Capitan. You will never escape from these woods. I wouldn't count on that, brother. And how will you go? You are many miles from lake. You have no boat. The beds of the creeks, they are full of quicksand. And the woods, have you not seen? To go even a few yards requires many hours.

No, senores. You will stay here till you rot. Bring the woman, dummy. Wait, Morales. There is nothing to wait for. I go to show the doctor our so pretty prize. She was not invited here, but she will be most welcome. The doctor also appreciates the beauty...

Farewell, my friends, and pleasant dying.

Doggone it, Cap. Are we going to let that cheap gangster get away with this? Did you hear what he said about a doctor? How does a doctor fit into this picture? I don't mind no doctor. What are we waiting for? For our pal Morales to get out of earshot. Yeah, but all that truck you was feeding him about trading Julie for safety. You must have known he wouldn't go for it. Oh, but he did. Huh? I wanted to keep him talking. Not hard to do. Boys like Morales like to run off at the mouth. Talking? Yeah.

Skip, when Morales first spoke, did you tell where he was? Oh, I gotcha. No, I couldn't. Sounded like he was all around. That's it. All this water pressed down by the jungle makes a cave effect. But I knew where he was before he left. Why, sure. Right across the creek. Behind that wall of fallen timber. Well, come on. What are we waiting for? Yeah, better test the creek bottom first. Here. I'll get a branch off this tree. Yeah. Lots easier deaths than smothering in dirt. There.

How's she feel? Okay. No suction. No mud to your knees, though. Come on, let's go. Oh, boy, you ain't kidding. I'd sooner wade through a tub of glue. Good the creek's narrow here. Yeah. But what are we going to do now? There ain't no bank over here to climb out on. Water goes clean up to a mess of fallen stuff. You reckon we can clamber over it? Hell, the boats didn't.

Got to be a way through it somehow. Well, I'd give a pretty to find it. This stuff they call water feels like snakes tugging at my legs. Uh-huh. Nasty. Tugging. Skip, you've got it. Who, me? Yeah, the water. Take a look. It's sluggish, but it's flowing. Hey, it seems to be going under the barrier. Exactly. And that's no pile of lumber we're looking at. It's just what you said, a gate, a barrier across the mouth of the Branch Creek.

Now we know what we're looking for. You're doggone tootin'. A rope or hinge to heist that wall up. Or swing a rope. Right. Or how about a vine? Here's one. Good stuff, great. You hear that? Oh, music to these ears. Give her another yet. Here she... Here she comes. And another creek behind her. Wow. Now keep it quiet. You see anybody?

Well, Mary is so. I guess Morales was the only guard. Let's get a move on before he comes back. Trail along the creek edge. I can just see it in the twilight. So, well, that'll be leads to the hideout. Oh, boy, it feels good to get my toes out of this mush. Yeah, we can make time on a dry trail, too. Poor little old Julie.

I don't know the way I feel a real pervert killing wouldn't do Morales a speck of harm. Yeah, we haven't played it too smart, Skip. When the dummy let out that yell, we ought to have known we were close to home. Yeah, but Julius said he was just talking to himself. Not that time he wasn't. He was signaling Morales. Hey, look. There's our boat. Yeah. And the dummies. Skip, see what I see? The tarpaulin up in the bar has been jerked back. Well, what do you know?

Canned goods. Enough for an army. Enough to keep the gang living in high for a few days anyway. So that's what the guerrilla man was up to. Running in supplies. Yeah, they had to have a pipeline. Make it snappy, Skip. We've got to get off this trail the dummies do back to unload. Sure wouldn't be no healthy place to get trapped, would it? Look ahead. The path's just a black tunnel chopped through the wood. I wish we had a flashlight. Well, we might take to the woods, but we'd make a noise like a herd of elephants. Come on, and keep it quiet. Yeah.

Cappy, I sure wish I know what this is all about. Personally, I'm up to my armpits in pure ignorance. I could ask a few questions myself. For instance, why Julie's father-in-law sent her into danger instead of coming himself? Right on the nose. And why she clammed up on us back in the boat. Oh, that's easy. She's scared. You mean her husband's old man? He might be out on a limb? Yeah, or the husband himself. For all we know, the kidnappings are blind. He could be up to his neck in this dirty wood. Could be for a fact. I...

Hey. Huh? Something's wrong with my ears. What's that? Well, I keep thinking I hear birds. There ain't no birds. Sure, it's birds. But there ain't no birds. Birds don't come in here. Well, not in the jungle itself. It's too dark and tangled. Yeah, there must be a clearing ahead. Hey, then we're there. Yeah, just about. There seems to be a sharp turn in that tunnel just ahead. Well, here we go. Skip. Sunlight. Well, for crying out loud. Man, that's the prettiest sight I've...

Oh, doggone it. Now I can't see a thing. My eyes are crying like babies. Yeah, I'm blind too. Coming out of the swamp dark in a bright light. Yeah, they're clear in a second. Hey, I thought you was in front of me. I am. Well, who's behind you? Hey, look out! Quit grabbing me! Quit! Hey!

The dummy. Let go, Skip. Let go, I tell you, all right? What the flu places? No, no, Captain. Do not move. Another one, eh? Who are you? Your friend is in no immediate danger. A little uncomfortable, perhaps, with his head bent so across the dummy's arm. An interesting physical specimen, the dummy. Magnificent development.

A little more pressure upon your friend's head. Tell him to release, Skip. Ah. You are prepared to be amenable? Very excellent. What do you want? But impatient. A regrettable characteristic of Americans. To the scientific mind, patience is essential. I want only a little cooperation. Revolver in your hand. If you will drop it on the ground. All right. No false move.

You will recall that I placed two rifle shots at your feet. Your eyes are clearing, yes? You can see now? Yeah. Then you will observe how the bullets kicked loose dirt over your boots. For a physician like me, it would be a simple matter to choose for a target that exact portion of the anatomy... You can save the lecture. There's the gun. Now tell your ape to lay off Skip. An ape? Hmm...

You are observing. I myself have compared him to the anthropoid. Tell me. Release the man. Remove his weapon. All right, Kinsella. Do not be alarmed. The sensation will pass now that the breathing passages are no longer obstructed. That's real kind of you, mister. Doctor, my friend.

Dr. Eckhart. Why not make it Air Doctor? Exactly so. That would be more correct. An uninvited guest in our country. That is due to the stupidity of your people. But I am here, and I have been of service. Perhaps later, I shall be still of greater service. But enough of this. You will step forward, out of the trail. Now that dummy, he never could have took me in a fair fight. An interesting speculation, Mr.

Perhaps you may arrange a little contest between you and him. We have so few amusements here. Gentlemen, how do you like our little home? It ain't so little. As you say, you observed a large living cabin. The one over there, the small cabin, is for, shall we say, storage? The wide, protecting strip of marsh? Protecting? I should not advise you...

to cross it without a guard. Hey, you got Julie across there. You are concerned for her? But you need not be. She's safe with Morales. Safe? Well, that guy? Oh, perhaps he is a little nervous at the moment. We have been long in the woods. But I command here, he has his orders.

I shall save Mrs. Lane for a higher destiny. You're talking about yourself? Exactly. Listen, you, I'll tear you limb from limb if you do anything. You will do nothing. Dummy! Hey! Why, you ugly... Knock and skip out from behind. And you, Captain. Very good. Excellent teamwork, dummy. As I say, I'm a cautious man.

Our guests will not now observe our passage across the barge. Search them, Dummy. Take them to the storage cabin and tie them tight. They will make excellent specimens for my table. Tied hand and foot in a cabin in the inaccessible heart of Dismal Swamp, Captain Friday and Skip are powerless to save the girl, Julie.

The second episode of It's Dismal to Die comes to you next week at this same time. You are listening to Adventures by Morse.

♪♪♪

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Do you want to live in a welcoming community and care for others in a place that cares about you? If so, follow your heart to British Columbia, Canada. Opportunities await at bchealthcareers.ca. A message from the Government of British Columbia. Adventures by Morse. Courtney Morse presents It's Dismal to Die.

Featuring Captain Friday. If you like high adventure, come with me. If you like the stealth of intrigue, come with me. If you like blood and thunder, come with me. All through the day, Captain Friday and Skip Turner pull their flat-bottomed boat along the crisscross waterways of Dismal Swamp, South Carolina.

The girl, Julie Lane, crouched at the bow, directing them through the strangling vines that overhung the creeks and underwater forests of cypress knees, lurking to rake the bottom out of a boat. The jungle blacked out the sun and smothered the swamp in a weird twilight at all times. But they knew it must be close to evening. Captain Friday, you didn't fight your way into the heart of the dismal swamp just for the experience. Hardly.

We're here in reply to an urgent telegram from Julie Lane. Her young husband had been kidnapped, although the kidnappers hadn't asked for ransom, and she swore she didn't know why he was being held. But she'd found out that messages from the kidnappers were being delivered by a giant, dumb Cajun, a descendant of a race of swamp folks as old as white civilization in America. She'd followed him several times to a certain creek bend deep in the swamp, but always lost him. Yeah, for a pretty little southern babe, though, that Julie had her head screwed on right.

She figured if we could get to the bend first, we could spot where the dummy went to. Yeah, but we didn't quite make it. The dummy caught up with us and we had to take cover. By the time we'd rounded the bend, he'd disappeared. Yeah, and right there's where we made our big mistake. Okay, Skip, take over. Well, we left Julie sitting in our boat while we tried to sniff out the dummy's trail. Only we'd no sooner turned our backs than the kidnappers grabbed her, too.

Then when we located their hideout, what'd we do but walk ourselves right smack into the arms of a couple of them tough hombres. Captain Friday and Skip woke up hogtied in a little dark hole of a cabin, and somebody lying on the floor by the wall was moaning faintly. Uh...

Hey, you reckon that's Julie? I can't tell from here. Them low-down skunks have hurt her. Doggone it. It's blacker here than it was in the swamp. Look at the window, Skip. Night coming up. Look.

Listen. Skip, that's not Julie. Sounds like a man. Well, whoever it is, they need help. If I get rolled over off my face... Yeah. Sit up. We can haunt ourselves across the floorboard. Gathering the season's finest crop of splinters. Yeah. Wait. I can see him now. Yeah. Yeah.

It's a man, all right. Holy jump. Look at the way they've roped him. I'm looking. Ankles hitched to his wrists behind his back and the rope crossed around his neck. Every move he makes half strangles him.

Oh, what a nice party this is. Hold it. He's coming, too. Can you hear me, Mr. Lane? Lane? You think this is Julie's husband? Who else could it be? I reckon I've been thinking so hard about that pretty little black-haired Julie. I clean forgot her husband.

You... Careful, careful. Don't budge. You'll choke yourself. But I hurt... No, we're friends, Lane. This is Skip Turner. Yeah, and that's Captain Friday. We come looking for you. Now, don't try to talk. We'll figure some way to get out of this. Sure, we will. But I'd give a pretty if some little birdie'd tell me how. Pocket... Whoa, there now. You just keep quiet like Captain says. Wait, Skip, wait. What did you say, Lane? I...

Pocket. Pocket. Something in your pocket? Glass. Uh-oh, Skip. Can you shove yourself around it and reach into his pocket? That sure make one honey of a try. Easy. Don't bump him. I'd sooner bounce a newborn baby on its head. There's the pocket.

Now, if I can just finagle one of my hands down into it. Hey. Got it? Yeah, a hunk of glass sharp as a razor, too. There she comes. Now, fella, you're going to be loose and nothing flat. Better cut me those first. We'll need both our hands when we work on him. Now we're done. Okay? Yeah, hold still now. I got the glass against the rope. Uh-oh.

Hey, try sawing your hands up and down whilst I hold it tight. Yeah. It wouldn't be too all-fired energetic if I was you. Not unless you've got a hankering to cut your hands off at the wrist. That does it. Yeah, good. I'll take that glass. The rest can wait till the rope's off Lane's neck. One more minute. There. Oh, God.

Thank you. Never mind that. Just lie there and practice breathing. Just for my ankles. Your next skip. Well, that don't make me mad. Wrists. And ankles. There we go. Now we'll get you loose, Lane. About time, too. Hey, fella, don't them ropes hurt, biting into your flesh? They did at first. I guess I must have passed out from the pain and the choking.

But I don't feel anything now. Well, try straightening out. All right. Funny, I can't move my legs or arms. How long did they get you bailed up that way, Lane? Just this afternoon. Uh-huh. Rub his arms, Skip. I'll go after his legs. Sure thing. Hey, what'd you do to make him tie you up in knots? Start a riot or something? Tried to. Doctor comes here sometimes to lecture me about the super race and...

What this country's going to do to the world in the next war. Oh, that's it. I jumped him, but I haven't had much to eat. I was pretty weak. Well, he didn't like it. They've been starving you, too? Not exactly. The dummy always feeds me when he's here, but the rest of the time, Dr. Morales don't bother much. Hurry, Tom. A little. Good. Circulation's coming back.

Hang on, Lane. Be over in a minute. Go ahead. Are Morales and the doctor the only men here in the cabin? Except for the dummy. He comes once a week to bring food. No sign of anyone else? Funny you're asking that. I've wondered myself. What's that mean? I was only in the big cabin once. The dummy got me out to the edge of the swamp and turned me over to Morales and the doctor at the log cabin. I was only there a few minutes, but I could see they were equipped to take care of a lot more people.

It was a pile of stretches stacked against the wall. But you're certain no one else has been in or out? Positive. My window overlooks the main cabin. I've had nothing to do but look out of it. Now, ain't that nice? Three of them to three of us. Hmm.

Gents this ought to be a picnic. Yeah, one of us is in pretty bad shape if I can just get my feet under me I'll be alright honest. I will the pains almost gone already. You want to try it you better do well What we're waiting for get his that all ball here easy now Okay swell You don't need to hold me. Just let me walk around a little watch out. You don't stumble in the dark Keep talking

Why were you brought here, Lane? That's just it, Captain Friday. I can't figure it out. There's been no talk of ransom? No talk about anything. Except the doctor's crazy ideas. Once a week they make me write a note to Dad to prove I'm alive. That's all I know about it. Yeah, but they got a whole something. Something that your father can supply. Could that be it? Honestly, I haven't any idea.

There'd have been some sense in kidnapping me when we lived in New York a few years back. New York, huh? Well, that explains one thing. I thought you all lived close to here. But you don't sound like no southern boy to me. No, we were New Yorkers until Dad lost his money. He used to be a wealthy man, a famous sportsman. I thought all he saved out of the crash was his boat and a little house down here that he used to stop at on his way to and from Florida. Florida? Yeah.

A boat? Yeah. Dad owns a good-sized houseboat. He's taken it down to Florida every winter for the last 30 years. Even after he lost his dough? Well, it takes money to run them things. Oh, he couldn't have managed it if it hadn't been for his friend. Friend? Big rancher from South America. Loads of money.

Five or six years back when Dad cracked up, they made a deal. Dad would take himself every fall in the houseboat and bring him back in the spring. You know this man? No, I've never met him. He's a queer duck. Eccentric the way a lot of very rich men get. Well, my father can understand that. If you're rich, everybody you meet is after your money.

Dad says this poor guy would go to all sorts of extremes to avoid people. Dress in shabby clothes mixed with the crew. So that's it. Hey, you got an idea? A barrel full. What's it all about? How did you two men get here anyhow? Never mind that now. Answer my questions. On these trips, did your dad supply the crew? No, his friend did. Same crew each time? Oh, no. You see, Dad lived on the houseboat during the winter, but his friend didn't. So he'd just pick up a new crew for the trips. Uh-huh.

And your dad decided not to go to Florida this year? Say, how did you know that? That does it. Wrapped up in blue ribbon. Yeah? Like you say, clear as mud. We've got to get out of here. Any ideas, Lane? Afraid not. I managed to break a water glass and hide that piece in my pocket.

But these log walls are a foot thick. I can't risk breaking down the door. We'd be heard cleaned at Jericho. Yeah, iron bars on the windows, too. That leaves the dummy. The dummy? Well, you said he brought your food when he was here. That's right. He ought to be here pretty soon now. Black dark outside. He must have finished eating up at the main cabin. And he won't be expecting trouble.

Skip? Save your breath, boss. Just leave me get my paws on that baby. Just let me wrap my arms around his neck. Okay, you take one side of the door. I'll get the other. Now you stay out of this lane. Why, no, I'm all right. I got a few scores to pay. Hey, watch it. Here he comes. Look out the window. Yeah, somebody's coming across the swamp with a torch. Now, when I shut the door behind him, we take him, Skip. Get it? And how. And I don't need no blueprint. Okay, everybody. Steady.

Oh.

Let's take him. I got him. And one red engine bites the dust. That was a fight. You all right, Skip? Yeah, ain't his fault, though. That boy don't care what rules he plays by. Well, that's one down, two to go. About time, too.

Oh, when I think of that poor little Julie. Cut it. We've got enough trouble without the kid going crazy. He doesn't know about Julie. Now, Lane, you know the layout. Can you lead me to the main cabin? Sure I can. Good. Stay here, Skip. Get this fella tied up and follow us as quick as you can. Yeah, in two ticks. All right, Lane. And keep it quiet. Right. All right.

There's a sort of path between the two cabins. Better stick to it. Quicksand around. I'm right behind you. Swell. A little lighter out here. Moon coming up. Now, look here, Lane. You asked how we got here. Well, I wondered. How'd you find your way in? I'd better warn you before we get there. Just keep your head, will you? Will you? No! No! What's that? No! Don't touch me! Why, that sounds like... That's Julie. That's my wife. Please!

That's Julie. I'll kill somebody. I'll kill him with my own hands. In the desolate heart of Dismal Swamp, Captain Friday and Skip, with the girl Julie, have found the hideout of the kidnappers who nabbed Johnny Lane, her husband.

But the kidnappers also caught Julie. And when Captain Friday and Skip went to a rescue, they were ambushed, tied and thrown into a cabin used for storage. They have succeeded in releasing themselves and young Lane. Then, a scream in the night, and Johnny first learned that his wife is in the hands of his tormentors. Oh, no!

Lane, Lane, listen to me. Let go, let go of me. You young fool, stop fighting and keep your voice down. That's Julie, she screamed. Yes, Julie brought us here. They caught her. You'll have to face it. Last year I got to... You've got to use your head. They're armed. We're not. Not a good you'll do her running smack into a bullet. Snap out of it, boy. Well, do something, do something. Follow me. Make for the cabin, but keep it quiet. Hurry, hurry. Keep close to me. Now give me the layout of the cabin as we go.

Big main room up front. Kitchen, lean to and back. Doors? Front and back. This path leads to the kitchen door. Yeah, looks like it's open. Lamplight filtering out. Let's rush it. Not until we've done a little reconnoitering. But my wife, Julie... You'll help her most by not sticking our necks out. Hey, look. That path seems to run around the house. That's for us. I hope you know what you're doing. Easy around the corner. Lighted window up ahead. Uh-uh. That's where we're headed. Easy now.

Heads down until we get under the window. That's Julie sobbing. Quiet. Okay. Hinch up under the window. Careful. Careful. Don't hurry. Captain, she's all right. See, Julie's all right. Uh-huh. Just scared, I'd say. The doctor and Morales seem to be having a little argument. It's a pleasant sight. Why do you say that? If we can get them calling among themselves, they're likely to do our work for us.

Okay, this gives us the setup. Now we'll go in the back way, quick as you can. The back door? Yeah, hold it. Yeah, nice of the dummy to leave the back door open for us. That door across the room there opens into the main room. Good.

You think we'll be able to hear through it? We'll see. Here we go. Yeah. So far, so good. Can't hear a thing. We'll have to ease it open. Quiet now. I'm waiting, Morales. It will be instructive to us obtain what excuse you can offer for disobeying my orders. Orders? The doctor is joking.

I congratulate you. It is difficult to surprise me, but you have succeeded. Even a man of your limited mentality should have realized that I never joke. But I don't understand. To a scientist, patience is essential. But I suggest that you do not try me too far. Mrs. Lane, this Dunkop has received orders to leave you alone. He's so fit to disregard them. Accept my apologies. It...

It doesn't matter. You are generous. A peculiar American trait which I cannot admire. Generosity is weakness, my dear Mrs. Lane. We must endeavor to cure you of it. Dr. Eckhart, please. If I could just be by myself a little while, I... You wish to retire? Yes. It pains me to refuse the request, but I cannot permit it. You have been a witness to the insubordination of this schweinehund.

It is fitting that you should also witness his punishment. But I don't want to. You force me to remind you that it is not a question of what you want, but of what I consider desirable. Well, Morales, I'm waiting. What have I done, senor doctor? This lovely young lady is lonely, is it not so? She's sad.

What harm to offer her the consolation? To speak the words of admiration? To steal the kiss? Why, the dirty Lane keeps still. If either one of them... Permit me to explain the obvious. Your fault does not lie in your familiarities with Mrs. Lane. You had your orders. You disobeyed them. And why was I given these orders? The Herr Doctor would like to explain this also. That does not concern you.

And questioning obedience is demanded. It is perhaps because the Herr Doctor wants the Signora all for himself. You forget yourself. My intentions are not to be questioned. Oh, no, Signor Doctor. I don't think so. It was Morales who found the Signora. She belongs to me.

I will keep her. Oh, no. Oh, no. No. He's got a knife here. But watch the doctor. Oh, you threaten me, huh? Si, si. The great Dr. Eckhart. Always he is right. Do not move, senor doctor. If you move, this little knife will flicker like the tongue of a snake. So small. So deadly. That is enough.

Your usefulness is ended. There's no place for such as you in our great enterprise. Your great enterprise. I spit upon it. Always you and your kind make the big noise, the big trouble. Twice you have promised to conquer the world. Twice you are defeated. Now you are finished. My country is never defeated. Nor am I. Upon you also I spit.

You... You killed him. You killed Morales. Certainly. Exactly through the heart. Excellent. You are surprised, Mrs. Lane? I'm a superb shot. I do all things well. I have held the gun aimed and ready here in my pocket since I entered this room. I could have killed him at any moment. But you...

You could have wounded him. You didn't have to shoot him dead. Extraordinary. I find myself constantly amazed at the naivety of the American mind. No, I did not have killed him. But why should I permit him to live? He has been useful in the past, yes. He is no longer so. These fools. When we win, they lick our boots.

But when the tide turns, they would like to leap upon us and tear us. It does not matter. There will be many to take Morales' place when the day comes. Besides, it will be more pleasant without him. You're horrible. Horrible. Indeed. I find you charming. Sit down again, Mrs. Lane. We have matters to discuss. I've nothing to say to you.

Ever. So... Morales has profited by his lesson. It would seem you have not. Need I remind you that I do not tolerate disobedience? Sit down, Mrs. Lane. Ah, that is better.

Hey, what's going on here? Don't make a sound. Yeah, but what's up? I was coming up from roping the gorilla when I heard a shot. Then I seen you two in here crouching on the floor like a couple of tomcats on a mouse hole. The doctor just shot Morales. Now he's got Julie. Hold it, Pothier. Listen. You assure me it is regrettable that you should choose the chair across the room from me. However, no matter for the moment. Dr. Aykart, what do you want? Ah.

Then we do have things to discuss. Excellent. Why did you kidnap Johnny? Very simple. Your husband's father presumed to interfere with my plans. That I do not allow. A small question of the use of his vote. It occurred to me that he would be, shall we say, more amenable if his son's life depended on it. I don't understand. It is not necessary that you should.

There has been an absurd evaluation placed upon woman's mentality. That too we shall rectify. A woman should be charming, does she? But you... you let Johnny go if Father Lane does what you wish. That, my dear, depends entirely on you. On me? Exactly. Tomorrow the dummy will carry certain communications to your husband's father.

There will be a brief note from the younger Mr. Lane as proof of his continued existence. You, my dear, will add a line, and I shall send a letter embodying exact instructions. He'll do anything you say? Quite so. These lessons in obedience are salutary, but we must allow him a day or so to prepare his vessel for our little journey, days which might pass slowly by.

except for your unexpected arrival. It will please me to spend this interval of waiting in your company. Dr. Eckhart, if you knew how you made my flesh crawl, if you knew! So? Perhaps you would care to consider the consequences of such an attitude. I am a doctor. I am also a surgeon.

There are certain operations which I have never been called upon to perform in my career. Very curious operations. Very intricate. Painful, too, I fear. Unfortunately, I have only a limited supply of anesthetic. Too little, I'm sure, to prove effective in deadening... What are you...

What are you trying to tell me? Simply, my dear young woman, that the decision is entirely yours. But you... you'd let Johnny go? You promised? Gladly. You have my word. And now, dear Mrs. Lane...

surely you will be more comfortable here beside me? I can't take this. Hey. Johnny, stay where you are. Julie, wait. Don't go near him. Johnny, Johnny, it's you. Stop, Mr. Lane, I warn you. Johnny, the gun. Yes, the gun. Do not move, either of you. Johnny, Johnny, why did you come here? It's all right, darling. We never had a chance of getting away, any of us. But he promised. He was going to let you go. You didn't really believe that, did you? Look at him. Mm-hmm.

Quite right, my young friend. No, I had no intention of allowing you to live. This place must remain secret. Still, you might have had several more days in which to enjoy your miserable little life. As it is, you forced me to eliminate you. Now. Now.

Captain Friday and Skip Turner watch tensely as the doctor lifts his gun against Johnny Lane. Why does the doctor want the Lane boat? Why is he prepared to murder his captives to keep his hideout unknown? You will hear the answer to these questions next week in the closing episode of It's Dismal to Die, entitled Bad Medicine for the Doctor. You are listening to Adventures by Morse.

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Deploy your career in IT today. Learn more at mycomputercareer.edu. SkillBridge and other VA benefits are available to those who qualify. If you work in healthcare, you rely on your training, focus, and team to make decisions. You rely on your mind. But how often do you listen to your heart? Do you want to work in a universal healthcare system that puts people first?

Do you want to live in a welcoming community and care for others in a place that cares about you? If so, follow your heart to British Columbia, Canada. Opportunities await at bchealthcareers.ca. A message from the Government of British Columbia. Adventures by Morse. Courtney Morse presents It's Dismal to Die.

Featuring Captain Friday. If you like high adventure, come with me. If you like the stealth of intrigue, come with me. If you like blood and thunder... Come with me. Dead of night in a desolate heart of a dismal swamp. And in the lonely hideout, Dr. Eckhart has just raised his gun to shoot down Johnny Lane before his young wife's eyes.

Captain Friday and Skip Turner came here with Julie Lane in an attempt to rescue her kidnapped husband. But Julie was stolen from them, and they themselves were ambushed. They managed to free themselves and Johnny, and to overpower the gigantic swamp man called the Dummy. Then, they crept along the narrow path between the quicksands into the kitchen lean-to of the main cabin.

Through a crack in the door that leads to the living quarters, they watched the doctor shoot down his assistant, Morales, in a quarrel over Julie. But Johnny lost his head and rushed to his wife's assistant. In a cold fury, the doctor leveled his gun. Now, Mr. Lane, it is your turn. Fool. Crazy young idiot. Yep. That's torn little bitty pieces. This interruption was ill-advised, Mr. Lane.

You might have had several more days in which to enjoy your miserable little life. As it is, you force me to eliminate you now. No. No, please. Mrs. Lane, remain where you are. If you move by a hair's breadth, I shall shoot your husband in the abdomen. It will kill him just as surely as a bullet through the brain. But he will not die so quickly. No, I can assure you as a doctor and a scientist...

So painlessly. Johnny. Johnny. Better stay still, darling. Now, Mr. Lane. Hey, boss, are we just going to stand by like that? Quiet, quiet. You aren't going to kill me, Dr. Eckhart. No? You interest me. The fantasy of a disordered mind. Or possibly the vaunted American tendency to laugh at death. I do not approve.

Death is serious, Mr. Lane, as life is serious. That is why we are the master race. That is why in the end we cannot fail. Oh, yes, you can. As a matter of fact, you already have. Another joke? The plain truth. You can't kill all of us, you know. All of you? You're pretty good with a gun here, Doctor. But even Annie Oakley would have her troubles potting three active men. Three? Captain Friday and Skip...

They're loose, too? Of course they are. Wouldn't you think the doctor would have realized that when he saw me up here? Where are they? Getting a little careless in your old age here, doctor? Maybe you ought to keep that super mind of yours on business and leave... He said it! Answer me! Well, make up your mind, can't you? Johnny, please. All right, Julie. Glad to tell the doctor all about it. Let's see now. Did you know I broke a glass one day, doctor? Too bad the dummy isn't as careful as you are.

i managed to keep a piece good boy and a few minutes is over that's all we need yeah you got something in mind wait till i get the door shut so we can skip there's only one lamp in that room you can't see it from here but it's on a straight line from a window how you know that saw it when johnny and i were snooping around now if we rush the doctor with that light on somebody's going to get hurt

You think you can get it out? Can I? Just let me wrap my paw around a hunk of rock. There are plenty of those outside. But smash the window before you let fly. Smash the window? What for? The rock will do that going through. Listen, dope. If the doctor pressed that trigger by reflex action when the light went out, Johnny'd end up with a smashed skull. But when the window crashes behind him, he's practically bound to whirl around.

You get it? Oh, sure, I get it. He spins around and ain't squares for me. Yeah. Now, you'll have to get that lamp fast. Yeah. Don't worry yourself, man. When I got my skin to think about, grease, lightning don't hold a candle to me. Okay. That smashed window will be my cue. I'll rush him from here. And don't miss that lamp. Brother, it's sure too bad you never seen me pitching Sandlot baseball down home. Man, I could have give Grover Cleveland Alexander pointers if I had a mind to. Come on.

I guess you ought to watch those impulsive little gestures of yours, Herr Doctor. Too bad you bumped Morales off. You could have used him about now. As it is, you're one against three. Now it is you who forget. There is still the dummy.

A formidable opponent, my young friend. Oh, yes, the dummy. Didn't I tell you? Tell me what? I wouldn't count on him if I were you. He's lying in the storage cabin, tied up like a bundle of laundry. You got the dummy? Oh, thank heaven. When you talk about formidable opponents, Dr. Eckhart, don't underrate Captain Friday and Skip Turner. They're no mean shakes themselves. As I said, you're one against the three of us. So...

And you imagine the balance is in your favor. I hold in my hand a powerful assistant, Mr. Lane. One against three. But the one is armed. If you fire, they'll be on you like wolves. You can't get all of us. I do not admit that. However, there is a possibility that I might not. A slim possibility. But I have considered it. The light is dim. I'm a careful man. I take no chances.

Congratulate your husband, Mrs. Lane. What do you mean? He has convinced me of the advisability of changing my tactics. Captain Friday! Say what the devil? Be silent! Captain Friday, I have no time for childish games. Naturally, you are within hearing distance. Reply, if you please. Okay, Doc. Spare your voice. I'm here. Ah, behind the door of the lean-to.

No doubt Mr. Turner is with you. You're doing the talking. I am. Listen carefully, please. With both ears. In one moment, I shall leave this cabin. You, Mr. Turner, and Mr. Lane will remain here. You will make no move to follow me. Oh, is that right? You will not raise a finger to prevent my escape. I see.

You wouldn't be taking Mrs. Lane with you, I suppose. Excellent. For once, I need not point out the obvious. Naturally, Mrs. Lane accompanies me. Julie? Oh, no, you don't. Julie stays right here. Mr. Lane, may I remind you again that I hold a weapon in my hand?

Do not move. Weapon or no weapon, Julie stays here. My dear young man, are you totally devoid of intelligence? Her dead body may remain here. Better get it straight, Johnny. One false move out of you and he'll shoot your wife. I'll get you. I'll get you if it's the last thing I do. Perhaps you might. That is a possibility which I also admit.

But it will scarcely restore your wife to life. How about you, Julie? Seems to me you're the one most concerned. I'll go with the doctor. Splendid, my dear. Julie, you can't. Don't you see, Johnny, I can't do anything else. If I refused, he'd kill you. If you try to stop me, he'll shoot me and probably you too. It's our only chance. A clear summation of the facts. No need you concern yourself about the young woman.

Due to this unexpected alteration in my schedule, I shall not have time for her excellent company. I wouldn't believe you on a stack of Bibles. You can this time, Johnny. He'll be too busy saving his own hide. Won't be quite so easy to get to Florida now. Florida? Why do you say Florida? Oh, come now, Doc. I know all about it. You know nothing. No? Let's start back a few years.

Your Fuhrer's pals had quite an organization built up in this country before the war, but the FBI wasn't as sound asleep as you thought. After Pearl Harbor, the boys made mincemeat out of your setup. So? So you had to get new agents in to take the places of the ones you lost. You tried sending a few in by submarine. Not so hot. If they managed to land, they were picked up a few miles inland. You had to find a safer route.

That's where you proved useful. Go on. I'm listening. You've been running a neat little underground railway here, Doctor. You smuggled your boys into Florida from South America. There's a huge track of swamp down in Florida, too, the Everglades. They'd hide out until it was safe to bring them up here. You know, too, how to report? Well, that's clear as glass. Through the inland waterway and the dismal swamp canal.

Yeah, you were pretty smart. Morales posed as a rich ranchero and got hold of Johnny's father. He had a big houseboat. No money to run it. You hired his boat and supplied him with crews. New agents coming in. Old ones and escaped prisoners of war going out. No one suspected. No one. No. Not until Mr. Lane caught on. Refused to play any longer. Why should they catch on?

He'd been making that trip for 30 years. Everybody along the waterways knew him and his boat. You were safe as houses. Well, how does that stack up? You know much, but there is much you do not know. Oh? You stupid Americans. You think because you have won two little victories that we are finished. Kaput! It is laughable. You think because your soldiers rule our country that we are helpless. Yes.

Like children, you are incapable of understanding what it is to prepare for every emergency. Got your plans all made, huh? They were made before a gun was fired. There are still places on this earth where we are welcomed. There are hidden and inaccessible spots where we can live and work without interference until we are ready. Yeah? I go now, Captain. But in time, I shall return to this country.

I and my men will seep into your homes, your towns, your public offices. This time we shall not strike until we are assured of final victory. Mrs. Lane. Yes? You will walk ahead of me to the door. You will open it and precede me through it. Mr. Lane, I advise you to remain quite still. Captain Friday, isn't there anything we can do? No, Mr. Lane. There is nothing you can do.

You may proceed. Hey, Doc! Doc, kid! What's that? The last gift. Coming up! Keep away from me, I warn you! That's what you think. Just let me get my hands on you. Julie! Julie, are you all right? Yes, I think so. Cam Frod is the captain.

It's on fire. Hey, get her out of here, Johnny, fast. Skip, where's the doctor? I don't know. He couldn't have got out the window. I come in that way. The front door. It's open, Captain. Yeah, that's the way he went, all right. Get Julie out of here. Kerosene all over the place, blowing up like a haystack. Come on, darling, hurry. Come on, come on, Julie. Skip. Yeah, boss? Her guns. They'll be in here somewhere. You get the table. I'll try the chest. Right. Come on.

Any luck? Not yet. This doggone smoke. Hey. You got them? Yes, sir. Both of them. Flashlights, too. Whoopee. Now, don't stop to gloat. Grab them and run. And don't spare the horses.

Murder has moved into the black decaying heart of the Dismal Swamp, which Dr. Eckhart has used as a headquarters for a band of enemy agents. A few moments ago, the hair doctor shot down his assistant, Morali. He intended to kill his prisoners, too. But Captain Friday and Skip made their escape and released young Johnny Lane.

at the main cabin, skipped through a rock through the window of the room where the doctor was holding Julie Lane, smashing the lamp and setting the cabin on fire.

In the mix-up, Dr. Eckhart made his escape. Now, outside the burning building, Johnny and Julie are anxiously waiting for Captain Friday and Skip. Johnny. Johnny, what's happened to them? Why don't they come out? Now, darling, don't worry. Captain Friday and Mr. Turner can take care of themselves. But the whole inside of the cabin's in flames. The fire's licking at the roof.

Johnny, those shots of Dr. Todd, they may have been hurt. They both sounded all right. I don't know, though. Everything happened so fast. We've got to go back in there, drag them out. Wait a second. Captain Friday, Turner, you all right? Keep your shirt on, fella. We're coming. There's one of them running out of the door. It's Skip. And Captain Friday right behind him.

Over here. Here we are. Hey, okay. Be right with you. Doggone smoke. Ain't enough. It stings the man's eyes out. It's got to choke him to death, too. You're not hurt. You're both all right. Hey, sugar, what's the matter with you? We thought you'd been hurt. The flames, you might have been burned to death. No, not us, Mrs. Lane.

We just had a little business to attend to. Uh-huh. Getting back to guns, the doc lifted off us. Yeah. Oh, look at that. Ain't she a sweetheart? You know, I've seen a lot of pretty little females in my time, but never one that fitted the palm of my hand like this here shooting pistol. Look, how are we to stand here in the light from the fire? If the doctor's hanging around out there in the dark... Not a chance. He won't be hanging around here.

Come daylight, we'd have him cold. Yeah, he'd make tracks out of the swamp. Right, and we're going after him, fast as we can make it. Johnny. Yeah? I gather there's quicksand all around this camp. You know the path through it? Well, I've seen the men take it from the window of the cabin where they held me. Uh-huh. I was going to try it if I'd manage to get away. Do you think you can show it to us now? I don't know.

It's tricky even in the daytime. Yeah, we'll have to try it. Here, take the flashlight. I'll be right at your heels in case you get into trouble.

All right. Let's go, boys. Yeah. Hey, uh, what about little Julie? Me? What about me? Oh, we can't leave you here all by your lonesome. I'll say you can't. How do you think you'd find the trail without me? Yeah, she's right at that, Skip. She's the only one who knows it. Yeah, but honey, you're plump tuckered out. Tuckered nothing. I brought you in here, Skip Turner, and I'm taking you out. Right, Johnny? Swell, Julie. If these gentlemen can go looking for trouble, I guess it's up to us to help them find it.

Let me get the flashlight on. That ought to be a path through the marsh leading off close to here. Hey, is that it? Looks like it. Come on. We can make time at first. All right. I better make an Indian file skip. Julie, please.

No straying. Hang on to my coattails, honey. I got them. Oh, slow down, everybody. Marsh grass coming up. Hold it, Skip. Yeah. What's marsh grass got to do with it? It marks the place where the quicksand begins. Oh, yeah. We seem to make a three or four foot jump here. Sort of at an angle.

Funny. I can't tell where we're supposed to land. Wait a minute. Hold it. Swing your flashlight to the right again. Okay. A little further. Yeah. Yeah, I thought so. Flat rock. It must be the place. Yeah, Johnny. Hand over that flashlight. I'll try. If it's safe, I'll hold the light for the rest of you. All right, Captain, but don't miss. Don't worry. I won't. Yeah, good. Good.

Yeah, she's selling us a dollar. All right, come ahead, Johnny. All right. Right with you. Yeah, it's fine. All right. You next, Julie. All right. Think you can make it? Well, that's an awful big jump for an awful little gal. Oh, you. I'm the original. I'm gold. Gotcha. Let's see if you can do it that well, Mr. Turner. Well, it'll be a tough job at that. Well, stand back here, buddy. Give a guy a room.

There. All right. Come on, now. Don't talk. Oh, boy. It sure feels good to plank my feet on firm ground again. Thought I had to jump one more of them quaking balls. All right, Skip.

Yeah, we can't be far from the boats now. Hey, you think he'll have left us one? Might have kind of. Nope, that's just sensible. Takes time to scuttle a boat, Skip. You'd guess you'd be right after him. Yeah, that's so. And he couldn't trail an extra boat behind him either, unless he wanted to snarl up for a fare you well. Hey, wait a minute. Hmm? See? Water ahead. You see the gleam? Yeah. Got that light. Right. Yeah. Now listen, everybody. Down on your hands and knees.

We creep up within sight of the stream. Then Johnny snaps the light on. But stay down. We've made good time and the dock can't be far away. Now, you got it? Sure thing. Okay, here we go. Come on.

Okay, Johnny. The light. Right. There. There it is. The boat. Yeah. One boat. And that's all. That means the dock's still ahead of us. Well, it can't be far. Come on, let's get a move on. Wait. Better look at that boat first. Come on, bring the light, Johnny. I'm with you. Great. Yeah.

Now throw the beam in the boat. Hey, why, doggone his hide. What's the matter? Look for yourself. All that means, you old buzzard, he ain't nothing but a low-down thief. He done stole our oars. What'd you expect, Skip? It won't delay us for long, though. Plenty of stuff around to pull with. Johnny, swing that beam along shore so we can... Don't cut that light! Julie...

Julie, where are you? I'm here. But so's the doctor. Quite right, my dear Mrs. Lane. I have been here since you reached the stream...

It was time to make my presence known. Yeah? Why right now? I cannot permit you to provide yourself with substitute poles. Not at the moment. Had you reached this stream two minutes later, it would have made no difference. Uh-huh. Got here a little too early for you, eh, Doctor? I believed it would take you longer. I'd expected to be through the floodgate before you reached this place.

But I always take precautions in the event... The floodgate? Exactly, Captain Friday. The barrier which closes the stream leading to our camp. I must ask you and your friends to remain without moving until I have opened it and closed it behind me. And then what? Then, Captain, nothing you do will concern me.

As you have no doubt observed, the barrier is extremely heavy. It is operated by a most ingenious mechanism. When I am outside, I shall destroy the mechanism. Hey, they're going to trap us in here. Yeah, we'll be halfway to Florida before we get out. Listen, my excellent friends.

Johnny, hand over that flash. Now, flat on your faces, you and Julie. What? Get down. Ready, Skip? We're airing to go? Auf Wiedersehen until I return. Watch it now, Skip. I'm going to use the flashlight.

There he is. Let's take him. Brother, you ain't never gonna get that gate shut. Stop, you fool. Stay where you are. Oh, so that's the way you want it, huh? Well, two can play at that game. Don't kill him, Skip. We want him alive. Sure. I'm just keeping him bothered. I warn you. Stay away from me. Oh.

Grab the boat, Skip, and spill him out. The water's shallow. I'll keep the light on him. Now you're talking. And over you go! No, no! That does it. I got him, boss. I got him. Stay

Stay still, doggone it. Take your hands off me. Let go. Oh, no, you don't. Watch out, Skip. I told you. You will never take me. Skip. Skip. Are you all right, fella? Sure. I just slipped in the mud.

A little blow like that would never push me over. Never mind that now. He's making for the pen. If he gets around it, we may lose him. Look, come on. Keep that light steady. It's not so easy in this much. Well, we're gaining on him just the same. You better give up, Doc. You ain't got a coon's chance. I will never give up. And you will never... Hey. Skip. Skip.

Don't move another step. Help! Help! Help! Yeah, but what got into him? Don't you see? He's in quicksand. Quicksand? Great glory. Help me, please! Please, you cannot let me die like this! Fellow, I reckon you're right. Not even a rat like you. Doctor, listen!

There are vines above you. Grab them. Hang on till I can get back with an oar. But I still think I can uphold. Sure you can. Anyways, you better. Hey, don't try to pull. Keep working your body from side to side. All right. Here we are. Now, when I reach the oar to you, let go of the vines and grab it. Okay? All right. Now, come on.

Just keep working your body. That's it. We'll pull from this end. Give me a hand, Skip. Here. Slow and steady ought to do it, huh? Yeah. Yeah.

We went to too much trouble to nab you alive, Doc, to hand you over to Quicksand. I reckon FBI will want to have a little talk with you about them hideouts you and your friends fixed up to hatch another war in. That's it, baby. Come on. Come to Papa. Come to Papa.

Are you coming, Skip? Dr. Eckhart giving you any trouble? What, wrapped up in vines like he is? Heck, fine, though. He and the dummy are laying in the bottom of my boat, peaceful as babies.

How are you folks coming in your boat? Everything under control. You know one thing's still nagging at me, though. What's that? The same thing that's bothered me all along. Julie, why in thunder didn't Johnny's old man come with us instead of sending you? Oh, but don't you see? He couldn't come. The ransom notes ordered him to be ready to leave when they sent word. He had to stay with the houseboat. Thought Johnny's life depended on it. Poor dad.

What'll they do to him, Captain Friday? He didn't know he was running enemy agents in and out of the country. And he still doesn't. He never suspected Morales at all till the last trip. Then he thought the men were criminals, gangsters skipping the country.

Just about kill him when he finds out. You think he'll jail him? I can't answer for the FBI, Johnny. But your father didn't know the score. They might figure you lanes did the country a pretty big service after all. What do you mean? Well, the government men know these enemy agents had bases of retreat lined up in case of defeat. Locating those bases and wiping them out is important to the whole world.

We're giving him a guy who can spot those hideouts. No, I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. We hand the doc over to the FBI, I'd say it'll be all over but the shouting. The End

So, like all who live by the sword, Herr Dr. Eckhart finally has come to the time in his life where he must face the consequences. You are listening to Adventures by Morse.

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Appointment with Fear. Loss of memory, the eerie darkness which closes down on the brain, is a subject which has often amused me, and that is why I have brought a guest tonight, Dr. Gideon Fell, the celebrated schoolmaster turned detective, to tell you about the Barton case. There sits Dr. Fell himself.

All twenty stone of him, with his four chins, his bandit's mustache, his eyeglasses on the broad black ribbon, his face fiery with controversy. And when he tells you about the Barton case, as he told it to me, we trust we shall keep our promise to bring you... An Appointment with Fear.

The clock strikes eight by John Dixon Carr produced by Martin C Webster. The Barton case, sir, was a grim business. I saw the last night of it. I saw what the human soul can endure without quite going mad. And I have no wish to see it's like again.

For I ask you to imagine yourself in the position of that girl, Helen Barton. Suppose, just suppose, that you wake up suddenly in the middle of the night. You wake up as though from a nightmare, with the feeling you've been asleep a very long time. The room is cold and nearly dark, with the faint glimmer of a fire almost out. Slowly, very slowly...

you begin to realize it's a room you've never seen before. That fact, above all, strikes at you through a mist of fear. There's a queer atmosphere, like old stone and disinfectant, and no sound at all in that dim room, except... What is it?

What was that noise? Now, now, lean back in your bed, my dear. It's all right. That's good advice, Miss Barton. You take it easy. I think I must have been dreaming. You were having a nightmare, but it's all right now. Nothing's going to hurt you. Not yet. Be quiet, Anna. No offense, I'm sure, but some people who occupy this room get on my nerves. I... I don't want to seem stupid. I know there must be some explanation, but...

I don't understand this. Understand what, my dear? Where am I? How did I get here? And who are you? Now, please, miss, whatever else you do, don't start that all over again. Start what all over again? Telling us you've lost your memory and don't even know what your name is. Are you insane? Of course I know what my name is. I'm Helen Barton. Well, it's a mercy you admit that at last. At last? But I've never spoken to you before in my life.

Where am I? Why on earth is it so cold? It's pretty hard to be cozy here in the middle of December. Did you say December? That's right, that's right. The 18th of December. You're fooling me. You're playing a trick on me. My head feels queer and I want to cry. I won't. Could we have some lights? Of course, straight away.

It can't be December, I tell you. That's impossible. It was only yesterday and all the flowers were out. I was going up to see Philip. That's it. I was going up to see Philip. Philip who? Philip Gale, the man I was going to marry. It's coming back to me now.

It was yesterday, and I started up to see Philip. Oh, for heaven's sake, miss. Be quiet, Hannah, and don't turn on those lights yet. Oh, she's having us on. Hannah, this girl's shaking all over, and she doesn't know where she is. Now, miss, now listen to me. I'm going to sit down on the bed beside you. Now, now just take my hands and hold them tight. What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?

I've got something to tell you. Is it about Philip? It is about him, yes. In a way. I want you to keep tight hold of my hands. You see, Miss Barton, this is Madehurst Prison. Steady now, steady. I'm still dreaming. I must be. It was the end of August and I started up to see Philip...

You can't mean I'm in prison. Now listen, my dear. I'm afraid it's worse than that. Worse than that? Look over there. You see where there's a little bit of fire in the grate? Well... And paper on the wall and pictures and a carpet on the floor. Why can't you come out straight and tell her? They're going to hang you in the morning, Miss Barton. This is the condemned cell.

No! With sudden shock, the prison clock smoked on the shivering air. No!

But I won't quote that any further. I have too vivid a memory of sitting up that night with Colonel Andrews, the governor of the prison. It was in a little office with the lampshade tilted so that I could see his face. And he said... I hate executions. I can't sleep the night before. If you hadn't offered to come here and save my life, I... This is a strange time, sir, to talk of saving lives. It's no good being sentimental about the thing. That's the law.

I didn't make it. But I gather you're not exactly happy about this case. I'm not, and that's a fact. Mind you, there's no doubt whatever about the girl's guilt. Hmm. I am gratified to hear it. But if only she'd confess. Most of them do, you know. They confess to you? To me or to the hangman. Sometimes I wish I had any job in the world but mine. If only the girl would confess.

If only she'd just stop this nonsense about not remembering. Not remembering what? Not remembering how she shot Philip Gale. Not remembering anything, even her own name. Total amnesia, covering a crime. Do you mean to say that a woman suffering from loss of memory can be tried and sentenced to death? No. Not if she really has lost her memory. But this amnesia defense was a fake. You're quite sure of that? Oh, naturally. The judge would never have allowed it to come to trial if he hadn't been convinced she was shamming...

Even then, she might have got off with a life sentence or even with manslaughter if it hadn't been for the nature of the crime. She didn't cut anybody up, I hope. No, no, no. It was almost as bad. She shot a man who raised his hands and begged for mercy. That completely damned her in the eyes of the jury. And yet, you have doubts. Said you I haven't any doubts. And in any case, it's none of my business. How has she acted since she's been here? Oh, model prisoner.

Ah, but I wish she'd stop this business of seeming to be in a daze. It's getting on my nerves. Nice girl, too. I knew her grandfather. She lived near here? Yes. Born and bred in Maidhurst. She got mixed up with a thoroughgoing swine named Philip Gale. Mad about him. Wouldn't hear a word against him. He... he threw her over for a woman with money. I see. Yeah. He had a bungalow on White Rose Hill. She went up there one Sunday afternoon. Alone? Yes.

Herbert Gale, Philip's brother, heard them screaming at each other. He ran in to see what was wrong. Philip was trying to chase the girl up. She grabbed a .32 revolver out of a table drawer and told Philip to put up his hands. Well, that scared him. He did put up his hands. Then she shot him dead and went down in a fit. And afterwards? Afterwards, she couldn't remember. Couldn't remember anything? Pretended she didn't even recognize her own family. She said...

Who is Philip Gale? And you hang her tomorrow morning? Yes. Without even hearing her side of the case? Confounded man, there's no doubt about the evidence. Are you sure? She killed Philip Gale. Gale's brother, Herbert, saw her do it. This hypocrisy about not remembering... Emotional shock could do just that, you know. She wasn't so emotionally shocked that it disturbed her ache. She drilled him clean through the heart at 15 feet.

The bullet entered in a dead straight line through coat, waistcoat, shirt and heart. You could have run a pencil through the holes. Now, don't sit there popping out your cheeks and waving a cigar at me. I'm only trying to... Tell me, Colonel Andrews. Aren't you talking to convince yourself? No. Suppose that the girl is telling the truth. Suppose she has lost her memory. I tell you... All right, you don't believe that. But suppose it.

And then, suppose in some black hour just before the hangman comes, that her memory returns. Don't talk rubbish. Sir, I have lived long enough to know that mental suffering is the cruelest form of suffering on this earth. Imagine yourself in that position. You come out of a daze into what you thought was a safe and pleasant world. You don't know where you are. You don't know what's happened.

You only know that when the clock strikes eight, they are going to take you out and hang you. Did you hear that? Yes. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Yes. It isn't possible. I very much fear it is. Sometimes, you know, we have to use drugs. Drugs? Yes. And we take them to the execution shed. It's only a short distance, and we try to get it over in a matter of seconds, but sometimes they can't walk. Yes, yes, what is it?

I beg pardon, sir, but I thought I'd better get you. For the doctor or for the chaplain or both. What's the matter with you, man? You're white as a ghost. Can't help that, sir. I've been a warder in this place for a matter of 15 years, but I never knew anything like this. It's the upstairs room, I suppose, Mr. Barton. Yes, sir. Hysterical? Yes, sir. She says, well, she says she remembers now.

I see. She's carrying on something awful, sir. That ain't all. She claims she never done it. What's that? She claims she never killed Mr. Gale at all. Never killed? That's all, Harris. Yes, sir. Any other disturbances in the building? Well, sir, they're a bit restless in wing A. Ah, well, that's usual. Yes, sir.

And there's a bloke outside the prison, I mean, who keeps hanging about in front of the main gate. You can see him by the street lamp. First he'll take a few little quick steps back and forth, and then he'll run and stick his face against the bars of the gate. And then he'll go back to the pacing again. Fair gave me the creeps even before this other thing. You don't happen to know who it is? It's the other Mr. Gale, sir. The other Gale. I hadn't the heart to chase him away. All right, Harris, all right, all right.

Go ahead. I'll be along in a minute. Yes, sir. So the girl claims to be innocent. You heard that? Yes, I heard it. What do you mean to do? Well, I'll see her, of course. It won't affect the issue. Not even if she does happen to be innocent? Well, in the name of heaven, try to understand my position. I'm ready for this interview. It's against regulations, but I wish you would come along with me. If there were only something... Well, there isn't. Now, where's that whiskey I...

I need a little stimulant. She will need the stimulant. It's a cold night. It will be colder yet where she's going.

But I didn't do it, I tell you. I didn't do it. Quiet, miss. Quiet now. All right, my dear. It's all right. The governor and the other gentlemen, they believe you did it. Oh, no, they don't. You needn't try to fool me. Look at them over there in the corner whispering. Fell, she's lying. I heard that. You said, Fell, she's lying. But I'm not lying. I'm not. Miss Barton, you've got to pull yourself together. Please listen to me. When I first woke up, I didn't even remember Philip was dead.

Then it came back to me. Yes? I remember standing outside Philip's bungalow on a hot day with the sun in my eyes. I heard a shot inside the bungalow. I ran into the living room and found Philip lying on the floor by the couch with his mouth open and blood on his chest. That's all I do remember. Something hit me. Something hit you? On the head, or that's what it seemed like. Please! The doctor's found no injury to your head, you know. I tell you... One moment, Miss Barton.

Can you forgive the intrusion of an old buffer who sincerely wants to help you? Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. Bell. I'll try to be sensible. Now tell me...

When you arrived at the bungalow, Philip Gale was already dead? Yes. You didn't go up there to quarrel with him? No. And why should I have killed him anyway? I only went to tell him I was through, finished, fed up with him. I... Oh, what's with you? They haven't told you, then, that there's a witness who claims to have seen you shoot Gale? A witness? Who? Herbert Gale. But...

But that's a lie. You didn't take a .32 revolver out of the table drawer. Oh, this is the first time I've even heard of any revolver. Please believe that. You didn't order Philip to put up his hands, and then when he did put up his hands... High above his head. You didn't shoot him from a distance of about 15 feet. No, no, no. Your fingerprints were on the revolver. You were still holding it in your hand when Herbert brought a policeman. It looks as though you've got me, doesn't it? I'm afraid it does.

Just who is this brother, this Herbert Gale? He's the good member of the family. Now then, my dear, now then. I can't help it. Herbert is the good boy, while Philip was the bad one. Younger than Philip, horribly respectable. Pillar of the church, never smokes or drinks. Has to work hard because Philip inherited what money they had. Oh, let me laugh, you don't know how funny it is.

Herbert's word certainly carries weight. It's carried weight against me, hasn't it? Why should he want to get me hanged? Why should he tell such a complete bag of lies? Yes, I wonder why. Every second I imagine I'm going to wake up and find myself back in that living room again.

Looking at Philip's body, just standing and staring at it and feeling sick. And of all things to think of at a time like that. One thing why he was wearing a waistcoat on such a hot day. Hmm?

Orchans of Athens! What an idiot I've been! What a tulip! What a thundering dance! Lower your voice. The murdered man was wearing a waistcoat. You told me so yourself. What if I did? The murdered man was wearing a waistcoat on a hot day. Grasp that beautiful fact, my friend. Keep it in splendor before you.

Three hours of sheer nightmare, and all because I never thought of the waistcoat. Let me ask you just one thing. What happened to the court exhibits of the Gale case? As a matter of fact, we've still got them. The case was tried and made Hearst decided. You've still got them? Certainly, but what good can they do now? Sir, let me shake your head. Let me slap you on the back. Let me... Just a minute, my friend. Stop a bit. Quiet. I... I beg your pardon. Have you... Have you forgotten where we are? No. No.

Let's face facts. The prisoner has been told that there's, well, no hope. Please. I'm sorry, but there it is. Please, please, please, please. The cruelest thing you could do now would be to raise hopes that I can't fulfill. You understand that? I understand it only too well. This can't be present for any of us. There's nothing in the evidence that justifies any change of plan. Except, of course, that the girl isn't guilty.

Can you prove that? To my own satisfaction, yes. I'm afraid that's not good enough. Suppose I proved it to you, conclusively, mind. Out of evidence you gave me yourself, what would you do? Are you bluffing? No, speak up, man. What would you do? That's easy. Phone the Home Secretary and ask for a stay of execution. There's a private line from my office to his country house. But I warn you... Dr. Bell, is there any hope for me? Is there any hope for me? I warn you, Fell, they won't accept fancy theories.

They'll only accept facts. Tell me, Miss Barton, how tall is the estimable Mr. Herbert Gale? How tall? Yes. Is he anything like the same height as his brother, Philip? They're about the same height, 5 feet 10, but I don't see... If I remember correctly, one of the warders told us that Herbert Gale has been hanging about the front gate all night. I should very much like to speak with him. Colonel Andrews, will you send someone out and ask him to come into your office? I can't do that. Why not? It's against regulations. It's against regulations.

You've got to get a special pass. Say and write to him. Curse it all. Can't you get it through your correct military head that an innocent person is going to swing in less than two hours? Dr. Bell, I don't know what you're trying to do, but can you do it? My dear, I can't tell you. But you are going to try. I'm going downstairs now. Maybe in a very short time, a certain gentleman will be entering this institution without any need of a pass. But don't hope for anything, my dear. Don't hope for anything.

Seven o'clock. Seven o'clock. Less than an hour to go. Oh, why doesn't that warder come and bring the exhibit I want? What's delaying him? Probably he can't find the stuff. But you said you had it here. Things like that I have to get this late. It's been a month since the trial...

Must you... must you have these exhibits? In order to prove it to you fully, yes. But if he doesn't come in two seconds more... I can't stay here much longer myself. The chaplains will are now, but I shall have to take over before the end. Yes, yes, come in. Sorry to be in so long, sir. I could have sworn it was in one place, and lo and behold, it turns up somewhere else. Never mind that. Did you get the exhibits? It's all here, sir, in this suitcase. Here you go.

Where shall I put it? Put it on Colonel Andrews' desk. Now, let's see. Move the lamp over here, will you? And about Mr. Herbert Gale, sir. Where is he? Out in the hall, sir. Do you want to see him now? Yes, yes, my lad. Very much so. Ask him to come in. You can come in, sir. This way. Thank you. Morning, Herbert. Glad to see you. Sit down. Thank you, Colonel Andrews. Let me have your hat and coat. This is Dr. Gideon Felt. How do you do?

The warder said you wanted to see me. I came, of course, but do you think it was quite the right thing to do? Well, why not? Well, people might think I was holding a grudge against Helen. Because of Phil, you know. And you don't hold any grudge? No. I pity that poor girl from the bottom of my heart. I only wish I hadn't had to testify against her.

But what else could I do? You mean you'd like to help her, even now? Of course I would. If there's anything I can do to soothe her last moment... There is something you can do, Mr. Gale. Well? You can come with us to the condemned cell. Are you joking? No. But wouldn't it be horrible for Helen? Yes, probably. But as you point out, she has only a very short time to live. Yes. Excuse me, but...

What have you got in that suitcase? In this suitcase, Mr. Gale? A flattened bullet. The bullet that killed your brother. A .32 revolver. A tweed coat, bloodstained.

A tweed waistcoat, also bloodstained. Sheriff Bell, what do you expect to prove with that stuff? Will Mr. Herbert Gale go with us to the condemned cell? Of course, if you think I can do any good there. Then, with your permission, I propose to prove that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points. Will you walk into my parlor?

7.30. Half an hour to go. Easy, my dear. Easy. Easy. They're not coming already. Herbert. Gail. I'm very sorry for you, Helen. Please believe that. Thank you.

I shouldn't have intruded at this painful time. Believe me, Helen. But Dr. Fell and the Colonel here made me come to see you. You mean you've come to confess? Confess? What should I confess? You didn't see me shoot Phil. You know you didn't. I'm sorry, Helen. I pity you and I bear you no malice even now. But you did shoot poor old Phil. You shot him in cold blood after you'd asked him to put up his hands. How high did he put up his hands? I...

I beg your pardon? I said, how high did he put up his hands? Look here, you're only upsetting poor Helen. Is there any purpose in going over all this in the last few minutes before the hangman... We might even illustrate what happened with a little experiment. I have here in this suitcase a bloodstained tweed coat and a bloodstained waistcoat. You

You see them, Mr. Gale? I see them, yes. I should like you to take off your own coat and waistcoat. I should then like you to put on this coat and this waistcoat. I do no such thing. Why not? Haven't you tortured poor Helen enough?

Colonel Andrews, I feel to you... I don't see what the game is, but where's the harmony? Helen, feelings. Never mind my feelings, Herbert. I've only got a few minutes left. Put on the coat and waistcoat. You hear a condemned person's last request, Mr. Gale. Will you do it? Yes. If you insist. I still don't see what this is all about. If something isn't done very soon...

Colonel Andrews, sir? Yes, Harris? I thought I'd better tell you, sir, that the chaplain's here and the witnesses are ready and the other person, too. You mean the hangman, don't you? You mean... Easy, easy. He's got to come and bind her hands, sir. It's five minutes to eight. Sorry, Farrell, but this has got to stop. I must ask you to clear out of here immediately while we... For God's sake, man, wait!

I can prove it now. You can prove what? I can prove Mr. Herbert Gale lied when he sentenced this girl to death. You must be out of your mind. You can't do any such thing. Oh, yes, I can.

Do you notice, all of you, that he's wearing the dead man's coat and waistcoat? All right. Suppose I am. What about it? You will imagine, Mr. Gale, with this powerful imagination of yours, that I am threatening you with a revolver. Now hold up your hands. What the devil are you gambling on? Hold up your hands, sir. High above your head. I won't do it. You'd better do it. Haven't you better do it? You as a soldier, man. I'm asking you now. That's it, Mr. Gale.

Don't let your hands tremble when you raise them. Just lift your hand higher, higher still, while I'm threatening you with a revolver. Now look at his coat, everybody. Look at the coat. I refuse to... Don't lie your hands, Mr. Gale, and the rest of you, look at his coat. But, Coates, it rises when he lifts his hand. But, of course, it does. And the bullet hole in the coat, you notice, rises with it.

But the waistcoat is buttoned close to the body. The waistcoat doesn't move. I think I begin to see. The bullet hole in the coat has risen at least four inches above the corresponding hole in the waistcoat. Yet, the bullet, you told me, penetrated in a dead straight line through coat, waistcoat, and shirt. Therefore, Philip Gale could not possibly have had his hands raised when he was shot. It's a damned lie! It was a damned lie, sir. Oh!

You killed Philip Gale yourself. When Helen Barton walked into the middle of your crime, you knocked her out with a weapon that left no bruise and put the revolver into her hand. Then you discovered, as a gift from heaven, that she had lost her memory. You could tell any lying story you liked, but

But it's upset the apple cart now. The prosecution, the evidence, the verdict were all based on the evidence of the shooting of a man who had his hands raised. Destroy that single lie and you create the reasonable doubt that destroys the whole case. Is this true, Colonel Andrews? Is it true? Can't you at least say something? Harris. Yes, sir? Do you know the private telephone line in my office? Yes, sir?

Get me the Home Secretary.

And so, with the end of the story, The Clock Strikes Eight, we come to the end of our present group of stories in the series, Appointment with Fear. If you have been pleased, if you have been entertained, if you have been able to say that only the graveyards have yawned, then we are deeply grateful.

Indeed, with the slightest encouragement, I, who am amused by such things, shall return to tell you more tales of corpses and the midnight hour. But until that happy day when we meet again by some evil crossroad of the future, this is your storyteller, the man in black, saying goodnight and goodbye.

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The action of the play takes place somewhere in the south of England before the last war. Mortmain. Listen to the sea, the primal sound, that sound of water washing the shore, soothing troubled spirits. I often come here for your sake, Sal, right at this very spot and look out and remember. Memories are all I've left from those few precious days when we both thought you were mine at last, but you were never truly mine, were you? You belonged to him.

He possessed from the start that fateful day when you became his wife. I was at the church. You never knew that, did you? But I had to go see for myself. I, Humphrey Ramsden Child, take thee, Salome Clare Miles, to be my lawful wedded wife. I, Salome Clare Miles, take thee, Humphrey Ramsden Child, to be my lawful wedded husband.

He, middle-aged, sallow, solid, defective. And his mother, Harriet, veiled and slumped in a wheelchair at the back, gibbering throughout the ceremony. I never understood till later. And in the midst of it all, you, my darling, a sacrificial lamb.

Perfection. The moon's up already. You look flushed, my dear. Do I? I suppose I am a bit...

Just I'm glad it's all over, the ceremony. I feel like I can be more relaxed now. The ceremony was the consecration of our vows, Salome. It may be unduly formal to some, but for me it is most fitting for such an important moment in our lives. Of course, I wasn't meaning to be critical. I take all my marriage vows seriously. Every one of them. Meaning I don't? For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

That's how much we are now part of one another, together from now on. Till death us do part? Oh, no. Not just until then, but beyond. That's my conviction, Salome. Marriage joins more than our hearts. It binds our souls beyond death, throughout eternity. After that, I tried to forget, to stop thinking about you both together. The pain was still too great.

And about two years later, that letter came begging me to meet you. It took courage, you knew that. But in that curious little tea shop, you offered a picture of life at Seton Manor with Humphrey. His passions for boating, for moths, his house, the small talk of marriage, his mother. I wasn't convinced that you were entirely honest. But I listened, and against my better judgment, I accepted your invitation. I always found it difficult to say no to you, Sal.

And you'd assured me I'd have little to do with Humphrey. But on a balmy September night in 1938, I found myself sitting on that ill-fated houseboat of his.

Put on the gramophone, Mary. Good old Humphrey, always wanted to fight superstition. How do you mean? Well, count, how many places? Thirteen. Thirteen at dinner. Very unlucky, some would say. Did you say thirteen? Oh, my God, Teddy's right. That's bad. Is there anything wrong, Florence?

Did you realise there were 13 of us? Of course. You would. You mean this was intended, Humpho? Naturally. And then you're not superstitious? About 13 seated at dinner. Yes. Of course I'm superstitious. But I have always maintained that human fear...

can be used to good effect. How do you make yourself clear on not following this one little bit? I think Florence means that it's bad luck to seek 13 at dinner. I know she does. It could mean someone's going to die or something like that. Yeah, not another death. Oh, don't worry yourself, Heather. It's a bit of nonsense. Isn't there a play which starts with the guest suddenly realising that they make 13 at the table? But by priestly or some word. Barry, I think. Ah, you spoke, Mr Temple.

I was just clarifying something for your wife, that's all. Of course there's no truth in this consequent death business, but it makes a damn fine topic for table conversation, doesn't it, Mr. Temple? Nothing better than to stir up the crew's complacency just before embarking on a substantial meal, don't you think, Mr. Temple? Oh.

You've all found your places. Salome has made such exquisitely delicate little name tags for you all. And now the first course, I think. What a little moonlight can do. So, you're a friend of Humphrey's, Mr. Temple? Oh, please, call me John. I'm Heather Fleming. That's my husband, Andrew, sitting over there next to Edward Scrivener. And I'm not exactly a friend of Mr. Child's. I've known Sal...

Salome, since we were children. Oh, really? Oh, that's nice. Well, nice for her. Yes, the main course. Pumphrey always serves superb food. Quite delicious. Thank you.

You'll get bored. You can't be disappointed. Everything looks so beautiful, darling, just like dining on the big Atlantic liner. I'd enjoy myself a good deal more if that infernal Fleming woman stopped gossiping with your friend. Oh, Heather, she's a dear, but she doesn't gossip. She's just trying to make John feel at home. I don't think it's any right of hers to make people feel at home. She's my guest.

that she insists on masquerading as some pretentious hostess. That's absurd! What's got into you tonight? This is meant to be a happy occasion, a wedding anniversary. What do? Keep your voice down? She'll hear you.

She's terribly well-intentioned. And the Flemings have been your loyal friends for years. You've always said so. She's a good woman. Now I find her presence intolerable. We couldn't have excluded the Flemings tonight. Heather loves coming, and she's always been like a mother to me. Andrew's all right. I can't think how the old boy tolerates that infernal prattle day in, day out.

If she belonged to me, I'd find a way to silence her, teach her a lesson. It's all right, everyone. Don't panic. Tim was just showing us his famous egg balancing act. And he's blown the salt all over the table.

If you want to pick on your guest, you do know why I'm making an example of Florence. She's so vulgar. That awful laughter. If ever a man suffered constant humiliation, it's not Andrew Fleming, but Ted. As always, you miss my point. There is no pretension in Occy. She's clean, unadulterated, cheapness. An exquisite concoction of all that is worldly.

and destined for the moth and rust. Sometimes you talk in riddles. Not till you solve them. Of course, it came as a great surprise to us when Humphrey announced he was getting married. A confirmed bachelor married to Seton Manor in this old boat. And of course, there was his mother, you know.

Absolutely devoted to her, he was. Took her death very much to heart. Oh, really? Well, they said it was senile dementia. Only it was worse than that, and the poor dear eventually had to be committed. Must have been all of eight years ago now. I never realised. Humphrey never breathes a word. Well, it's not the sort of thing one broadcasts, is it? Oh.

Dear, you would think me a morbid old thing talking like this over such a lovely meal. You and I are a charming young man of a company. Now, don't misunderstand me, John. We're so glad Salome came into Humphrey's life when she did. All the time we rarely feared he'd go the same way as his mother. Yes.

You see, the locals started spreading all kinds of rumours. Strange behaviour and all that. We never saw any evidence of it ourselves, and we never set store by any such gossip. One can't in the country. Personally, I just think Humphrey's one of life's eccentrics. He certainly has an individual taste in clothes. All this gossip started about ten years back. People claimed that Humphrey was indulging in unnatural practices, whatever that might mean. They say he stole dogs from the village...

and took them back here to the estate. They were never seen again. And then headless sheep were supposedly found entangled in some barbed wire at the entrance to the manor. They claimed Humphrey had ritualistically slaughtered them. Dreadfully far-fetched. And quite honestly, I...

Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention for a minute? I'd like to propose a toast to the happy couple. I'll give you Ruff and Salome. Happy anniversary, darling, and many more to follow. Yes. Humphrey. Humphrey. Salome. Humph.

Humph! Now you should give a speech, a response. Now, please, Ocky, sit down. No, I want a speech. You've got to make a speech, Humphie. It's traditional. It's what Harriet... It's what your mother would have wished. Oh, dear, I don't think she should have said that. Friends, I am encouraged by my cousin Florence to address you. I intend to be brief. Turn down the music, Mary.

We meet tonight to celebrate a special anniversary. But in our celebrating, let us not forget our debt to the past. Until two years ago, as you know, Seton Manor had long been mourning its true mistress, my mother Harriet. Let us remember that it was my mother who breathed life into its very stones, who fashioned its true glory. She from whose loving touch no nook or cranny was spared.

She whose spirit even now I sense within encircling us at dinner. Though her body is passed from us, let us not forget her. But then, exactly two years ago, I finally caught my beautiful Salome and brought her home. She is young in years.

And, like a pretty little moth, must bat against the light that Harriet has left behind. But before you all tonight, I make this solemn vow. My house I hold most dear. My estate I hold most dear. And my wife, my most valued possession, I also hold most dear. I have her, and in time-honored fashion, I will keep her home.

I offer a toast to us, to life, to death, and to the hereafter. There's your speech, Florence. And I trust my beloved Salome that your appetite for occasion is duly sated.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you care to make your way back to the house, I'll organise the sweet trolley to be brought out on the terrace. Oh, my God.

Little girl's room?

Oh, you mean the lavatory, Heather. When you reach the house, up the stairs, straight in front of you, and it's the first door on the right. Oh, by the way, forgive the smell there. We've only just finished decorating. Thank you, dear. Urgent, you see. Too much bubbling. Oh, and Heather, if you need a hand towel, they're in the large closet just behind the bathroom door. Just help yourself. Yes, I will. Now, Major...

What about that molt?

Sal, are you all right? Of course. Why? Humphrey's little speech back there was an outrage. I thank you not to insult my husband, not while you're here as his guest. I'm not his guest, and he's under no illusion about that either. People always misunderstand. He was just being funny, that's all. Funny? Oh, I see. Just as he was about the 13 people at dinner, upsetting Mrs. Fleming with all that talk of death and superstition. Now you're going over the top. Heather knows Humphrey better than anyone. Enough to think him strange at times? Eccentric? What do you mean? Come on, Sal, he's warped.

His whole behaviour makes it so blatantly obvious. He's contemptuous of everyone here tonight. And what's worse, that contempt clearly extends to you. He has no regard for your feelings. That is quite enough. He's worth ten of you put together. That's not true. There's something very wrong here. I can't quite put my finger on it, but the whole place exudes a sense of misery and oppression. I felt it as soon as I arrived yesterday.

And Humphrey's performance tonight has convinced me I'm right. Oh, that's nonsense, John. Now stop it. You know I'm talking sense, Al. You felt it too. That's why you wrote to me. No! Wanted to see me. Insisted I should come and stay. You could have told me when you said you wouldn't feel settled until I'd visited you here. And now I realise why. This is no marriage of kindred souls. There's no love here with some kind of bondage. I love him, John. Love him.

Did you hear that? Sounds like some wretched animal caught in a trap. Do you keep any animals? No, nothing like that. That Humphrey detests them. Have you seen Heather? I think she went into the house, to the bathroom. She wasn't sure of the way. Oh, it's upstairs. Andrew, I think your wife's been taken ill. Come on, we must go inside. Yes.

Where's Humphrey? Humphrey? Where are you? Quick, which way is the bathroom? Upstairs. Follow me. Where's the light? It's switched on at the other end. I'll lead you. When we refurbished the first floor, we decided to keep the main bathroom there. Can't be smart that you used it. Next door to our room is very convenient. Are we there yet? Just at the top here. Put a light on. I can't see a thing. Oh.

This is the bathroom here. The switch is outside somewhere. Yes, I'll have to feel for it.

Found it. Oh, my God. There are... There are moths everywhere. Heather. Oh, she's here. Oh, dear God, they're all over her. Quickly, give me a hand. We've got to get them off. Oh, they're in her mouth. It's her eyes everywhere. All right, Heather. All right, you'll soon be okay. I'm going to try to get a window open and get these things out of here. Heather. It's Fallon. Can you hear me? You're all right. You're going to be fine.

You've had a bad shot. Just sit here with me for a while. You will be absolutely... When you're better, we'll go downstairs. Oh, God! Somehow Heather's stumbled onto some of Humphrey's locks. What's going on? They're just standing there like some great Gormley slum. They all go and eat sprang, don't they? It's all right, Mr. David. The wife had a bit of a shock when she cut. It's all right. It's all right, Miss Gormley. It's all gone.

You're safe. You're safe now, darling. Andrew. Andrew. Oh, that's good. These have come from. There's hundreds of them. They're Humphreys. He collects them. But I can't think how they got into the bathroom. I couldn't help it. They came out and they muttered in my head. It's just a little accident. They'll soon have you right as rain. Oh, God. I thought I was going to die. I think we'll get her into the fresh air. Yes, of course. Here, perhaps you and Ted can take her downstairs. Yes.

Andrew, there's some smelling salts downstairs in the kitchen, but please take some. I've a number of a good emergency doctor in Bursleton. I say, anyone notice the smell? For a moment I thought the old girl had... Well, you know, when someone's had a bad shock, perfectly normal. Yes, I noticed it too. Sickly, sweet. Something has very decidedly gone off. It seems to be strongest over here. Wait a minute. I guess there's something at the bottom of this closet.

Has anyone got any matches? I'll be lighter. No, no, no, it doesn't matter. I can reach inside. Oh, what is it? Something warm and moving. Moving? Stand back, everyone. Whatever it is, I think it's best to drag it out into the open. What is it? A fox? Dear, it's a dead dog. Very badly decomposed.

Seething with maggots. How on earth did he get in here? Oh, I expect Humphrey put it there. Oh, I can't stand any more of this. I'm going to get to myself a brandy. What do you mean, Humphrey put it there? In a bathroom cupboard, for God's sake. Some of his masacarion feeders, they need flesh for food. Humphrey's told me that before now. He must have put the dog here. God knows who the poor thing belonged to.

Look, it's still got a collar round its neck. And where the hell is Humphrey? He called us all in here. What does it matter, John? Let's just get rid of it and forget about this. Oh, that would be too easy. Yes, let's forget. While some poor, defenceless old lady lies half delirious downstairs because of your husband's disgusting hobbies. Never in a lifetime. Look, just because Humphrey's tastes are a little unusual, it doesn't mean... Unusual? Placing a decomposing corpse inside the house is more than unusual. I'll tell you what your husband's tastes are. Perverse.

I'm beginning to realise some of the rumours about him are probably true. This is no marriage, Sal. It's some hideous, bizarre charade. When I leave this room, I'm going straight downstairs and out through that front door. And I want you to come with me. Sal! What is the matter? Why are you so frightened? I can't, John. I can't.

I can't believe him. I love him. It's a lie. You can't possibly love him. I do. I do. Listen to him. The man is mad. He's not safe, Sal. Come with me now while there's still time. No, I can't. Please. I can't. Please. You can't make me. You don't understand. Please.

Then I can't help you. No. No, don't leave me. I can't do any more. You've made your choice. You're free to do so. I loved you. I lost you. I found you again. And now... No, John, don't. I beg of you. Don't go tonight. You just don't understand. God be with you, Salome. You must live this nightmare.

Why have you done this to me? For better, for worse. Why did you upset our guests?

Where were you when Heather had her accident? I'm a Lorelei. In reverse. I lure them onto rocks. They crash on the rocks of life into the tides of death. No.

Oh, my God!

Dr. Matthews! It's Salome Child! Yes, straight away! I don't know how this started, but he's on the roof and he has a dog and he's threatening to set it alight! Oh...

I'm sorry, my medication can't help anymore. He needs something much stronger. It's going the same way as his mother. Committed. I fear it's in the blood. Committed, Dr. Pagliucci. Mrs. Child, there's every chance your husband is no longer harmless. I believe him to be criminally insane. Criminally insane? Can nothing be done? Nothing. Mrs. Child, it's for the best. We have stronger drugs there. He'll respond. He'll be quite comfortable. No. No.

Dr. Matthews! What are they doing? Trying to give him an injection to calm him down. He's very strong and the violent fits make him dangerous to move without sedation. Your hand is bleeding. He bit me, I'm afraid. It happens in these cases. What's happened now? He's all right. I must go to him. Mrs. Child. Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

I'm afraid the straitjacket was necessary. I really didn't want you to see. But you did want to see, didn't you, Sir Larry? Ah, see how my mouth flutters now. You may think I'm mad, but I tell you, I know secrets of the universe you couldn't even guess. Come away, Mrs. Child. This is all too distressing. That's right, Mrs. Child. Do what the nice man says. Yes.

But wherever they take you, I shall find you. You're mine, Salome, forever. You promised me till death us do part, remember? And I tell you, death shall not part us. Not part us. Death. Humphrey Child seemed preoccupied by death and dying. For six months he tried to save him. Then you wrote again, again begging me to help. I couldn't believe what he'd done to you. That haunted look. I wanted to take you away.

But again, you insisted on staying. Even in madness, he had a good sense of timing, as though he was playing with us all. Then suddenly, for you, my darling, that merciful release. Only call to pass on our respects. When did it happen? Of course, I blame her. Never really gave the poor man a chance. If you ask me, she only married him for his money. It's obvious she didn't love him. He was too good for her.

I want only a small affair. Just family. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Humphrey Ramsden child, five years beloved husband of Salome Clare child. Death shall not part us. Shall not part us. I have her. And in time-honored fashion I shall keep her. Keep her. Keep her.

Three weeks after the funeral, you became my wife. A quiet affair, you insisted, nothing grand. I, John Temple, take thee, Salome Clare Child, to be my lawful wedded wife. I, Salome Clare Child, take thee, John Temple, to be my lawful wedded husband. But how I drank in your smiles and the promise that we were alone now for the rest of our lives, I was determined to savour every moment. Our honeymoon should have been perfect.

You're very bright this morning. And why not? I feel the sun shining on me. Suddenly life is good. I'm happy and fulfilled.

And I've got my pipe, a tin of my favourite back. Oh, you! Yes, and I've got my girl, Sal. Careful! The eggs! It's all right. Save them. Oh, you're a romantic, John Temple. I always suspected it beneath all that tweed and pipe smoke. If a fellow can't be romantic on his own honeymoon, then there's no justice in the world. I still can't believe it. It's like a dream. Oh, I'm so frightened. I'll wake up and all this will disappear. Now, stop all that maudling business.

Right, you ready? Big or little helping of our special scorched scrambled egg. Burnt, more like it. Coffee? Oh, please. Milk? Just as it comes, you know me. I like to think I do. Oh, delicious. Can't beat it, really, can you, all this? The isolation, I've loved it all my life. I never really went sailing. Humphrey had his boat, the one we dined on that night.

He called it Daisy. It was a stupid name for a boat. Oh, but he was very fond of it. He used to sail by night studying moths along the river. Never took me with him. Now, you don't have to think about any of that. It's all past history. You're Mrs John Temple now. Oh, I know. It makes me feel very safe somehow. Really? Of course. Have I behaved very selfishly?

Why? Making you a marriage offer at a time when I knew it would be hard for you to refuse. John, they took Humphrey away over a year ago. During that last 12 months of his life, well, he was in no sense of the word a husband to me. He used to get very abusive. That business of dressing up like a woman, well... In the end, I think he really believed he was his mother. Darling, please. No, no, it's good to tell you. It helps. He always used to say he'd find me, though. Wherever you are, little moth, I'll find you.

I was always the worst bit, like a threat. I used to lie awake at night, anxious, in case he escaped and came looking for me. It's silly, isn't it? I don't think so. You know, when you finally wrote to me after Humphrey went away, I felt as if I'd been rescued. I can't describe the sense of relief. I kept my word. I only had to wait for the inevitable, and I knew you might accept me at last. I knew it was just a question of time. What's that line again?

There's a destiny that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will, or something like that. Oh, you show-off. No, not really. I just want to make up for all the time we've missed, introduce you to all my old haunts. So that's why you wanted to come here. We needed somewhere private. What could be more perfect?

Alone on Windhover 2. It was the perfect solution. Our own little island. Set in a silver sea. I see more like. I had a dip when I got up. Talk about goose pimples. Good job I've got a strong heart. All the better for having me in it. Happy? Oh, I think so. Only think so? It was a bit of a shock last night. Passing seat and manner. Too many ghosts, you mean?

I hadn't been back since the day Humphrey was taken to the asylum. At the time, I simply walked out and left it, but it still came as a shock. I suppose I hadn't realised just how close we'd be. I only called you on deck to see those gannets flying against that brilliant sunset. Never even noticed the house. Strange. It wasn't the memories that upset me. It was the way the place had deteriorated that hit me most. The whole place seemed to be rotting. I almost felt it was watching me.

Angry at me for going away. Good Lord! What on earth was that? Some bloody idiots round the side. You stupid fool. Why don't you look what you're doing? I'm sorry we bumped into you, old man. Why have you had a spot of trouble with the oars? What is it, darling? I told you. Lawrence. I said to Ted, I thought I'd seen Salome, child. I saw you, not a caring child.

the world, taking the sun, weren't you, yesterday morning? Of course you were. I knew it was you. That's why I said today, didn't I? I said, if we need some shackles, why don't we row the dinghy over tomorrow morning and find out if that white boat's got any to spare? And if it is, salome, child, I said, she'll let us have some, won't you, salome? This lady isn't Mrs. Child anymore. She's my wife. My name is Temple, John Temple. We don't have any spare shackles.

And if you don't mind, right now I'd like to inspect the damage. Oh, dear, dear, we appear to have put our foot in it as usual. Dearie me. Well, I never... The sibling didn't realise so soon after poor old... John, darling, this is Florence Scrivener and her husband Edward. Ted, please. How do you do? He was a bit scraped about the stern. Didn't we meet once at my cousin Hump's place, Seton? I don't remember. Of course we did. Same night old Mar Fleming took a wrong turn and got attacked by bats.

or something. Lots of giant moths. Oh, well, something slappy. Would you like to come on board? John was just making some coffee. Oh, no, I don't think that's a very good idea, especially after the paint business. We really ought to be on our way, Ocky. Nice running into you again. Listen to that, running into you. Thank you.

Mind you, I wouldn't have recognised the old tub. Tarted it up a bit by the looks of things. Much better shape than I remember it. Humph had it painted pink, as I recall. This is not Humphrey's boat, it's mine. And honestly, we don't have any shackles to spare. Oh, don't worry about that. We'll make out somehow. Well?

Well, you know, I can't believe it. Hump's dead and buried not long since. And look at you now, dear, positively blooming. How long is it since? A month, Florence, almost to the day. After all, you should know.

I seem to remember you were at the funeral in full black. Really? Only a month? How interesting. He was a remarkable man, my cousin. Very remarkable. I wonder what he would make of his little Salome remarrying quite so soon. My wife's name is Salome, as you well know. What?

OK, time we were going. I'd stay the old welcome and all that. Oh, never could stand pussyfooting around. Sorry about the paint. Goodbye, Salome. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Hateful woman. He was trying to stop her.

Was the damage bad? No, not really. Just scraped off the paint along there, see? So bloody careless. Flaming amateurs. Quite awful people, those two. Yes, I never liked them. Although Ted seemed all right. He was quite nice in his own way. You know...

I think we'll make a push ahead of schedule. It's getting a bit crowded round here, and I'd like to get to Collett's Farm by mid-afternoon. Do you mind? Not a bit. After seeing those two, I feel I want to move away from Seton for good. And I thought we'd left your past behind for good as well. Until later that evening. We'd been sitting on deck after supper when I suddenly spotted that boat again. We'd seen it once already the night before. A curious-shaped thing with cut-down masts, painted an awful sort of pink and exuding an air of neglect.

I was joking about people's taste when you abruptly said it was too cold to stay on deck and went below. What are you looking at? Nothing. Come on, what was it? These. Some photos. Old photos of Seton and the boat. I was just seeing... You mean his boat? Is this where he used to sail? Yes, now and then. Sometimes he kept it not far from here. Oh, John, John, it's odd, but I don't know how these came to be here at all. I found them in my suitcase when I unpacked it.

It's almost as if someone put them there. Sal, it's all over. Humphrey Child is dead. Everything is all right, isn't it? I suppose so. Of course it is. You hop into bed. Give me those. And I'll tear them up. Chuck them overboard. Commit them to the waves. And then I'll join you for an early night. We can wash up in the morning.

Salome. Salome. Salome, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. Nothing can hurt you. Shh. Don't wake him up. All I could see... All I could see was Humphrey's face grinning down at me. His voice calling out my name.

I felt something beating in my face. I screamed and woke up. It was a giant moth. Over there by the mat, I heard it when I brushed it away. It's still there, crawling. Bloody brute! There, that's you finished. Oh, John. And you, my girl, can start by coming clean about that boat we saw. It's Humphrey's old bark, isn't it? I think so. What do you mean, think so? You know it is.

You recognised it when we saw it last night. Yes, all right. I did. But what was the point in telling you? I knew you'd be upset. Besides, I'm convinced it's following me. Oh, brilliant. We see the same boat two times and now it's following you. No. I've seen it more than twice. The first night we docked at Skippers, I saw it then. I thought nothing of it, but when it appeared the next evening, I began to worry. You said nothing? Nothing? Nothing.

I am your husband, remember? I doesn't mean you own me. You can't order me to tell you everything. You are coming with me right now. We're going to take the dinghy and we're going on board that tank wreck. You are going to meet the people who have obviously hired it for a holiday. And you're going to send these bloody stupid ideas about phantom ships pursuing you right back to Davy Jones's locker where they belong. No, no, please don't make me. I beg of you, Humphrey. What did you call me?

I'm sorry. You called me... I'm sorry. You called me Humphrey. I thought... Your face, I... I'm sorry for a moment. It was Humphreys. It's gone. The blight is gone. I saw it. It was there only five minutes ago. They'll let off this time, Sal. But the next time we see that wretched boat... I'm going to pass. Damn. Damn you, Humphrey. Damn you, Humphrey.

About last night, we need to talk. I know. There are so many things I haven't told you, but I was trying to forget the past, like you said, and not let my memories upset me. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I'm sorry. It was unforgivable. It wasn't like you. I've never heard such anger in your voice before, such intensity. I didn't believe you could be so violent. Yes, it scared me too. I just completely lost control. I'm very sorry. It'll never happen again, never.

I promise. I know it's nonsense, but Humphrey's face last night, it was so vivid, so real. And it was here again this morning, the mouth. I felt it touching my mouth. I felt it. I felt it crawling over my skin and I heard it beating its wings. John, I didn't tell you the whole truth last night.

I have seen Humphrey's boat twice, but I was so frightened. It seemed to rise up, slowly out of the water. What? I didn't tell you, because... How? It looked more and more decayed, more broken up, as if possessed by something rotten and evil. I wanted to go to it. I can't explain. I was drawn to it. It was waiting for me.

watching me. I could sense something drawing me down into the water. It's calling me. But don't let me go. You mustn't trust me, do you understand? You must stop me, whatever happens, stop me. We must return to land now, immediately. Very well. I want to be locked in. Locked in the cabin. But I... If you don't, it will claim me without question. He will claim me. He really did love me, you know.

And I love you, too. Remember that. You're safe now, darling. Nothing can claim you. About another half mile, Sal, and we can land. Can't say I won't be relieved for sure. My car. What was that? Shit, she's out of control. Swinging to port. Stop.

It's Humphrey's boat. Rising out from the water. Rotted almost through. By God, the speed. Sallow away. Sallow away. Death shall not part us. You shall not have her. She's mine. And mine she shall stay.

Humphrey's voice. I swear I heard it. What? Oh, my God, it's one of those child voices. No, not my mother. I've come to claim what's mine, Salome. Two deathless do part, my dear. Oh, no, Humphrey. I'm not ready. Oh, please. Please leave me alone. John! John! Help me! Open the door, please!

Please, I'm with him now! He can't hear you, my beloved. He has thoughts only for his precious boat. Come with me now. I've come to take you home. To my son. It's over, Sal. We're all right. It's over. Sally. Sally. Sally. I'm opening up.

My little butterfly's released. Sal? Sal? Sally? Sally! Oh, no. Oh, no, not that, please, God. Not that. You'd gone, of course, though there was no sign of a struggle, nothing at all to suggest that you'd ever been there. Just a moth on your pillow, broken, dying. It was as if you'd never been my wife, Salome. Never existed, just nothing. No body, no grave, nothing. All I have left is my heart, my memories.

I pray to God that the sea, and only the sea, has you. I have her. And in time-honoured fashion, I shall keep her. Keep her. Keep her. Robert Glenister played John, Helena Breck, Salome, and David March, Humphrey, in Mortmain by John Metcalfe. Florence, Anne Windsor, Edward, Ronald Herdman,

Heather Gudrun Jor, Andrew Jonathan Adams, Tom John Church. Mortmain was dramatised by Rebecca Wilmshurst and directed by Martin Jenkins.

♪♪♪

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Deploy your career in IT today. Learn more at mycomputercareer.edu. SkillBridge and other VA benefits are available to those who qualify. If you work in healthcare, you rely on your training, focus, and team to make decisions. You rely on your mind. But how often do you listen to your heart? Do you want to work in a universal healthcare system that puts people first?

Do you want to live in a welcoming community and care for others in a place that cares about you? If so, follow your heart to British Columbia, Canada. Opportunities await at bchealthcareers.ca. A message from the Government of British Columbia. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. This is Basil Rathbun inviting you to join me beyond the green door.

Today I would like you to meet Eddie Fox, a man looking for work anywhere, even beyond the Green Door. This had been a bad year for Eddie Fox. The ancient profession of hobo, which Eddie followed, had fallen upon evil times. Men accused hobos of being thieves and beggars, which wasn't true. But people didn't care, and had no use for a man who wanted to work a few days and then drift on. Eddie was thinking about this when he entered the town of Oakdale, Oregon.

He sighed and glanced down a row of suburban houses. They were all very much alike. He chose the least impressive, went around to the back and knocked. A woman timidly opened the door on a chain. "Madam," Eddie said, "I'm looking for any odd jobs you might have. I'm a good hard worker and I don't charge much. Mow your lawn, clean out your cellar, fix the furniture, wash the car, anything." "Well, I don't know," the woman said.

Ever since my poor husband passed away five years ago, there hasn't been much money. The house needs a good cleaning, but the money... Oh, I could do a lot of work for just a square meal, Eddie said. The woman seemed to sense a bargain. She unchained the door and let Eddie in. He followed her into a dusty, bare living room. I know it looks terrible, the woman said, but I've had to sell my furniture to pay the mortgage.

I really don't know how much longer I can keep up appearances, but I have to do it for the children." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear about your trouble, ma'am," Eddie said. "But a little cleaning will do wonders. And I don't eat much. Well, I don't know," the woman said, "but I'm... I suppose I... I must do something soon. I can't just mope around. I have to provide for the children." "Oh, of course you do," Eddie said. "How old are they, ma'am?" "Hmm?"

"They aren't born yet," the woman said. "But ma'am, I thought you said..." "Hey, stop that, will you?" Eddie pulled away quickly, for the woman, with a sudden crazy flash in her eyes, had leaned over and bit him in the hand. "What's the matter with you?" Eddie shouted. The woman was obviously insane, for she babbled, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I only did it for the children. For my poor little children." Eddie had had enough.

He turned and left the house and walked briskly out of Oakdale, that deceptively quiet town. Soon he was on the highway. He scratched at the deep bite on his hand. It itched. He hoped he didn't get hydrophobia. He could get it from human bites, he'd heard. And he wasn't feeling so good. Feeling sleepy, in fact, and his hand throbbed. He decided to take a little nap by the roadside. He'd go back and ring that woman's neck if his hand was infected. The wound hurt in spite of his sleepiness.

and it felt strange and lumpy, like there was something under the skin, something crawling, something growing and taking nourishment. That crazy woman and her unborn children, Eddie thought,

just before he fell asleep.

♪♪♪

Career changers, including veterans and active duty service members. Your transition starts here. Go from GI to IT in a matter of months. Become a certified cyber warrior with training at My Computer Career. Cyber security specialists are in high demand, offering IT pros great opportunities and a rewarding lifestyle while protecting our people, liberty, and treasured institutions from cyber threats. Deploy your career in IT today.

Learn more at mycomputercareer.edu slash CWP. SkillBridge and other VA benefits are available to those who qualify. Recently, a new client called me and started by saying, Mr. Morgan, I really need your help, but I'm just a nobody. Those words stunned me, and I immediately called him back. And we're now helping him and his family after a terrible accident. I'm John Morgan of Morgan & Morgan. Everybody who comes to our firm at their time of need is a somebody.

We'll be right back.

Our results speak for themselves. And always remember this. Everybody is a somebody and nobody is a nobody. Visit ForThePeople.com to learn about our firm. Morgan & Morgan. For The People. Injured? Visit ForThePeople.com for an office near you. The man in black. Come with me down the long corridor.

Through the Shadows, to the secluded study of the famous Teller of Tales. Welcome. I am the man in black. These magnificent volumes you see surrounding me contain the world's greatest collection of unusual and fantastic stories. Today, I have selected a tale by Mr. John Russell.

A strange story of the South Seas. The price of the head. The possessions of Mr. Christopher Pellet were these. A bad name in the islands, a continuous thirst of liquor, and a set of fine red whiskers. Also, he had a friend, Karaki.

It was a strange thing, this friendship between Pellet and the native. For down among the Solomon Islands, the terrors of pure savagery lay just beneath the thin cover of the white man's civilization. Bring me another bottle, my jack.

At first it involved nothing more than Karaki patiently standing outside Moy Jack's bar at Fafuti and waiting for Pellet to get drunk enough to take along home. Please, Mr. Pellet, we're closing up now. You're plenty drunk already. Night after night, Karaki waited while the white man sat roaring inside.

Don't tell me when to drink. Now, go get that bottle. Jump. All right, all right, Mr. Pellet, all right. I'll get the bottle. I'll fix you the bottle. Ah, now, hurry up, you bald clown. Here we are. Plenty of good rum, eh, Mr. Pellet? It stinks. And so do you. And so does this old bloody island. Don't you like my rum?

Yes, all right. Thank you, your honor. Now come here, Mojack. I'm going to crack your ribs. Crack your ribs. Hey, Garaki. Garaki. Take him out.

A few minutes later, Karaki had the white man across his shoulder and bore him down the beach to the miserable shelter of pandanus leaves that they called home. There he eased Pella to a mat, bathed him with cool water, and carefully brushed the dirt from his bright red hair and whiskers. It was quite a mystery at Fufuti, the friendship between these two men. After all, Karaki was nothing more than a heathen from Bougainville, a place where some people were smoked and others eaten.

It was midday when Mr. Christopher Pelleter woke, ground his way out of the painful fog of alcohol. Rum, Crocky. Rum. No, rum. You drink too much rum last night. Too much Moy Jack rum. Huh? What do you mean? Too much Moy Jack rum? Moy Jack. Put white powder in bottle. Huh? Make him you sleep. So that's it.

Why, this little rat. Oh, Terry, throw it out. Be careful. Mojac, all the time, carry knife. Cut face, all up. That little wax man. All murdery. Come on, Karaki. Half in anger and half in anticipation of the pleasure of beating someone up, pellets staggered off down the beach toward Mojac's bar. Karaki followed him. It was the noon hour of repose and all for food he was asleep.

Pellet reached the bar and found Moyjack dozing peacefully among his bottles. He woke him with a savage kick. Get up, you dirty scum! Get up so I can bust holes! You're hurting me, Pellet! Feed me a mickey, will you? Not again, you waltz! Now I'll cut you, Pellet! Ah, will you now? Well, I'll just fix me a knife, too. Get up!

Come on, boy, Jack. I want to twist this bottle around in your face. That'll learn you to fight with a red-headed man. That'll learn... He's dead. Rocky, I killed him. Yes, dead. Plenty trouble now. Police. Yes. Come on, let's get out of here.

Where we go, Kuroki? I got to hide someplace. You go house, house on beach. Wait there. Me fix a boat. Leave full footy. What boat? You got no boat. Me find the boat. All right. All right, I trust you. But hurry, man. Hurry! We return to The Price of the Head in just a moment. But first... Hello, everyone. This is Ray Milland.

You know, making motion pictures is a difficult chore and doesn't leave one very much time for too many outside interests. However, even when making something to live for, there was one must on my weekly schedule. And that was listening to the Amos and Andy program every Sunday on CBS radio. Thank you, Mr. Milland. And now, once again, The Man in Black.

Pellet waited in terror in the shack on the beach while Karaki broke into the boat sheds and with an axe smashed the bottoms out of the three craft sheltered there.

Then he opened the trade room and quickly gathered together a big bundle of supplies, including a Winchester rifle and box of cartridges. Next, he carried everything out onto the beach and loaded it into a stout outrigger canoe that belonged to the company agent. Finally, he fetched pellet from the shack, and together they hurriedly launched the canoe in the lagoon. Karaki rigged the big meth sail, and they paddled out into the breeze just beyond the harbor entrance.

We made it, Karaki. We're safe. Yes. Hey, look, where we headed for, anyway? What island we go, Karaki? Bougainvillea. Bougainvillea? You crazy? That's 800 miles from here. All same we go. My home. 800 miles? We go all fine. Always want to bring you my home. Ah, right, you idiot savage.

I don't know why you're doing it for me, but I'll see you through. It was not the beginning of a very pleasant voyage for Mr. Christopher Pellett. The fear of being captured and hanged was great enough. But added to it were the horrors brought on by a sudden and complete lack of alcohol. And Pellett had been constantly drunk for over two years. The first night he was too seasick to care. But by morning he was raving.

However, Karaki quickly tied him up hand and foot and lashed him under a thwart and continued to sail off into the open sea. Now and again, he threw a dipper full of seawater over the white man and occasionally fed him with coconut milk. Karaki was an excellent nurse. He even combed Pellet's red hair and whiskers twice every day. By the time they reached the Santa Cruz region, Pellet's condition had improved and Karaka released him.

They were now in an area peppered with tiny islets, and Karaki decided to land on the lee of one in order to replenish their water supply. He dropped sail and was paddling slowly into the beach, when suddenly from out of nowhere a cutter carrying two white men appeared behind him.

One of the men signaled for the canoe to stop and surrender, but Karaki had other ideas. No! Not catching Karaki, a pellet! No way! Put that gun down, Karaki! We're in enough trouble now! Okay, I shoot. Stop, Karaki! For some foolish reason, the two white men didn't believe a native would dare resist them. And for their mistake, they were both killed and the cutters sunk.

Karaki, however, wasted no time sailing back into the open sea without his precious water. Twenty-nine days later, he was doling out the few remaining drops to Pellet, taking none for himself. His every gesture was one of sacrifice, that his white companion might survive. Finally, on the thirty-sixth day, they sighted Schwasil. By noon, they came ashore. There they stayed for a week, fattening themselves on the unlimited supply of coconut.

Oh, you think Bougainville's just under the horizon, eh, Kuroki? Yes. Well, all right, old chimp. You got me this far, I trust you. You know, Kuroki, you're quite a fellow. Yes. Yes. You sure don't talk much, though. I don't seem to reach you somehow. Boy, you know, I'd like to know what goes on under that top nut of yours, my boy. I'd also like to tell you how grateful I am.

Wish I could show you. Uh, Rocky, now, listen. Me, one big fella friend, long you. Savvy? You, big fella friend, long me. Savvy? We two damn big fella friend always. Aye? Yes, my word. My word. Oh, Rocky, you kill me.

And so Christopher Pellett warmed to a man for the first time in his mean life. He actually felt grateful to this quiet savage who had with rarest self-sacrifice saved his life again and again. And now that he was thoroughly sober, he could understand it even less. The native islander was a mystery to the end. The end came two days later at Bougainville.

Under a gorgeous dawn, they sailed into a bay that was crystal blue and right up onto a dazzling white beach. Pellet was the first to shore and he ran up to a rocky point to see all the charm of the place for himself. Karaki, in his simple and efficient way, proceeded about his own affairs. He landed what was left of the supplies stolen at Fafuti and piled them high on the beach. A few minutes after, Pellet heard a gentle footstep behind him.

and turned to find Kuroki standing there with the rifle at his hip and an axe in his hand. Me like. Oh, sir. Me like, too. Ah, this is a great place you have here, Kuroki. Me like I'm head. Huh? Huh?

Oh. Well, I like you too, Karaki. Wee big fella friend, right? Me like him too much. One fly head. Blown you. What do you mean? I don't understand. Red hair. Thine red whisker. Big prize here. Smoke him head. Make him Karaki. Big man on island. You mean...

You mean you're going to... Fine head. Very fine head. Cut him off now. That was the way of it. That was all the mystery. In Karaki's country, a white man's head, well smoked, was indeed a prize. But that of Mr. Christopher Pellett with his precious red whiskers was a thing to be desired above the love of women.

And the simple, patient, enduring Karaki had served hard to win him. And did it really matter to Pellet how or why he died? Since his own race would have hanged him for murder anyway. And so ends the Man in Black story for today.

The Price of the Head by John Russell. Next week, I've selected for you one of the most unusual and terrifying stories in my library. Mr. William Faulkner, one of America's most distinguished authors, wrote it. And he calls it simply, A Rose for Emily. A Rose for Emily.

The Man in Black stars Paul Freese, today assisted by the noted Hollywood actor John Daner. This is the CBS Radio Network. ♪♪

♪♪♪

Deploy your career in IT today.

Learn more at mycomputercareer.edu slash CWP. SkillBridge and other VA benefits are available to those who qualify. Recently, a new client called me and started by saying, Mr. Morgan, I really need your help, but I'm just a nobody. Those words stunned me, and I immediately called him back. And we're now helping him and his family after a terrible accident. I'm John Morgan of Morgan & Morgan. Everybody who comes to our firm at their time of need is a somebody.

We'll be right back.

Our results speak for themselves. And always remember this, everybody is a somebody and nobody is a nobody. Visit ForThePeople.com to learn about our firm. Morgan & Morgan, For The People. Injured? Visit ForThePeople.com for an office near you. For The People

Box 13, with the star of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd as Dan Holliday. Box 13, care of the Star Times. I should like very much to see you and offer a proposition which could be of mutual profit to us. Of course, there is some danger involved. But then, your advertisement asks for adventure.

So if you are interested, perhaps we could have lunch tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps we could have lunch tomorrow afternoon. Say, at one o'clock. The Golden Arrow. Ask for Mr. Waring's table. There's some danger involved, he said. Yes, that's what the man said.

And, brother, that's exactly what he meant. ♪♪ And now, back to Box 13 and Dan Holliday's newest adventure, Daytime Nightmare. ♪♪

At least this letter invites you to lunch, Mr. Holliday. Uh-huh. Lunch and then what? Danger, it says. That sounds exciting. It always does. You know, Susie, someday I'm going to walk into one of these things and not walk out. Then follow up one of these other letters. There's one that asks for a babysitter. The woman says her children are an adventure. Oh, no thanks. I'll take Mr. Waring's letter and his proposition. Then you'd better hurry. It's almost 12.30 now. Oh, don't push, Susie. Don't push.

What time will you be back? Probably this evening, but don't wait for me. Just lock up the office and take off. So long, Susie. The Golden Arrow is one of those ultra, ultra dining and luncheon spots where you can get a swell dollar lunch for five. I asked for Mr. Waring's table and the waiter showed me to a nice secluded corner. A small orchestra was playing. A couple were dancing. And Mr. Waring was just sitting there.

I took a good look at him before I sat down. He was big and handsome. Maybe about 50. And the diamond he flashed on the little finger of his right hand was spelled with 1,500 capital dollars. He looked up, saw me standing there. How do you do? You're Box 13? Yes, that's right. You're Mr. Waring. And you're right. Please, sit down. I've ordered lunch. I hope you approve. Oh, thanks. I'm sure I will. You're younger than I expected. Oh, disappointed? No, no. Please. Please.

Tell me, is Box 13 the way you make your living? Well, not quite. Yeah, I read your advertisement several times. Adventure wanted, go any place, do anything, write Box 13. Is that said with disapproval? No, not at all, Mr... Dan Holliday. No, not disapproval, Dan, just regret.

Regret that I hadn't the nerve to do such a thing when I was your age. Well, sometimes the regrets are mine. Huh? Oh, oh, I see. You mean once in a while you get something that's hard to handle. That's it. But you've always come out on top. Well, I've had a lot of luck. Is there any of it left? Do I need some? If you do what I ask, you will. All right. What's on your mind, Mr. Warrick?

First we'll have lunch, then we'll talk. Will that be all right with you? If you say so, yes. Good. Charles, you may bring our lunch now. Now let's enjoy ourselves. There's lots of time to get serious after lunch. Well, Waring was a very good conversationalist. I learned he was an attorney, an attorney for one of the biggest estates in the country. He kept leading the conversation around to that every time we got on something else.

Then when lunch was over... Enjoyed, Dan? Very much. Cigar? Oh, no, thank you.

Now, if you'll come with me. Come with you? But I thought we were going to talk. Oh, I'd rather have more privacy. You'll understand why when I tell you what I have in mind. Oh, it's that important, huh? Would you say $10 million was important? It commands attention, yes. Then please come with me. We left the Golden Arrow. The doorman saluted Waring and signaled a big limousine that sneaked up along the curb and purred to a stop. Please get in, Dan. Dan?

Oh, pardon me. Where are we going? Oh, for a ride through the park. Wait a minute. I want to know what this is all about before I go in first. You're not very trusting, are you, Dan? It's not very. Something wrong, Dan? Yes. Get in the car, Dan. A little air will make you feel better. But... Go on. Get in. All right, Bert. You know where to go.

I'd been drugged before, so I knew what it felt like. It felt exactly like this. I came crawling out of the long, dark tunnel with a buzzing in my ears, my mouth dry as cotton. I was lying down and I reached out my arms. I was on a cot, a nice white cot in a nice white room. I sat on the edge of the bed, looked around. There was a window, but there were bars over it. I went to the door. Hey, hey, open up.

Open this door. Open this door, somebody. Come on, open the door. Get away from the door. Get away from it. Open it up, whoever you are. Move back away from it and I will. Go on. I moved back and away. There was a pause and then... Well, Mr. Stokes, you've awakened at last. Stokes? What are you talking about? Come on, get me out of this gag or I'll break my way out. Samuel, you go. All right.

Now, Mr. Stokes, you don't want Samuel and Hugo to take care of you, do you? What is this? Sit down, Mr. Stokes. Please, sit down. I won't sit down. Where's Waring? He'll be here in a moment. If you want to see Mr. Waring, I'm sure that can be arranged. Well, that's better. And call off those mastiffs in white coats. Wait outside, Samuel, Hugo. And close the door. Go ahead. I'll be all right.

Stay where you are, Mr. Stokes. Look, if this is a gag, let's run it off the boards and put a tag to it. Gag? Why, Mr. Stokes, you sound almost rational. Rational? What are you talking about? Just that. I've no doubt that in a year, perhaps a little more, we can discharge you. You mean... you mean this is no gag? No, it's not a gag. You're Edward Stokes. Remember that. You're Edward Stokes.

Where's Waring? He'll be here to see you with your wife. My wife? Of course. I wonder if you remember her. I don't know what you're trying to get away with, but if I have to play rough, I can play it. Samuel! Hugo! I think Mr. Stokes needs to be quieted. Take care of it, Samuel. Get them away from me. When you've decided to be more calm, Mr. Stokes, we can have a talk in my office. Until then, I shall take precautions against your homicidal tendencies. All right.

Well, it was no gag. Samuel and Hugo were too big for games and they played rough. Samuel left and Hugo sat beside the bed to watch me. I knew now where I was. The sanitarium. Why? Why was I called Edward Stokes? I had to find out, so I turned to Hugo. What? Oh.

hugo these straps are hurting me no dice mr stokes i can't loosen them for you look get my clothes take out my wallet take the money that's in it and just let me get to a telephone i'm sorry mr stokes you know that's against the rules who was the man who spoke to me before that's mr cordell mr not a doctor oh yes and no this here's a kind of a rest home

Does everyone get as much rest as I do? Hey, you're all right, Mr. Stokes. That's pretty funny. Yeah, I'm dying. Where are my clothes? No, no, no, no. We'll get them for you later. Look, I'm not Edward Stokes. I'm Dan Holliday. Get it?

My name's Dan Holliday. I'm a writer. That's swell. I'll bring you a pencil and paper later. Hugo, go to her phone. Call the number I'll give you and ask for Susie. Has she got a sister for me? Now listen, you big lummox. This is a frame-up. I am not Edward Stokes. I don't know who he is. I never even heard of him.

I'm Dan Holliday, a writer. Yeah, okay, okay, I believe you. Once I took care of a man who was Shakespeare. I believed him. I also took care of Michelangelo, Dante, Spinoza, why, I... Look, I want to see Quedle. What for? I want to talk to him. What about? Does that make any difference? Yeah, because if it's not important, he'll get mad at me. All right. Tell him... Tell him I remember now that I'm Edward Stokes. It all comes back to me.

Now, will you go to him? Yeah, okay, but please, Mr. Stokes, don't try what you did before. I hate to get rough. Right, I promise. Ah, it's a good boy. And keep on being a good boy, and you'll be allowed visitors this afternoon. I'll be very happy to see them.

Very happy. All right, Mr. Stokes. I brought you to see Mr. Cordell, I guess. Now, promise you'll take it easy? Oh, sure. Thanks, Hugo. It's nothing. Here he is, Mr. Cordell. Good. Close the door and wait outside, Hugo. You sure you'll be all right, Mr. Cordell? I think Mr. Stokes has learned his lesson. Sure.

Please be a good boy now. Yeah, I will, Hugo. So, you've become reconciled, Mr. Stokes. I know I can talk myself blue in the face to Hugo or anyone else around here and not get anywhere. But I want you to tell me what this is all about. I'll be glad to. You're Edward Stokes. You're here for a rest. You were formerly at the Millhaven Sanitarium, but your wife thought this would be a better place. Don't you remember? Remember.

Oh, of course I do. You've made it all so clear. Good, good. Oh, by the way, you're looking so much better than when I saw you last, Mr. Stokes. Would you like to see how much better? What do you mean? There's a mirror on the door of that closet to your right. Open it and see how you've improved. I looked in the mirror. I didn't see Dan Holiday. I saw a stranger.

Cordell's voice came to me from a million miles away. There's some gray in your hair, of course, but that's to be expected. As a whole, it's still a nice, deep, rich black. My hair's been dyed. Has it? I'll bet you think it was once blonde. I imagine you think your name was once Dan Holiday. Take a good look at yourself, Mr. Stokes. Get acquainted with your new personality. You'll be with it for quite a while. Cordell smiled at me. Then I knew for certain this was no joke.

I was Edward Stokes. My hair dyed, clever touches of makeup here and there. Even Susie wouldn't have known me. Do you know why you've become Edward Stokes? Why, Mr. Cordell? Because Mr. Edward Stokes is dead. The End

And now, back to Daytime Nightmare, another Box 13 adventure with Alan Land as Dan Holliday. Well, there was a twist. I was a dead man, yet I was alive and being kept alive. But for what? Later in my room, I thought of making a break for it, but there was always Samuel and Hugo. Then later, I was taken again to Cordell's office. This time, Hugo went in with me.

Cordell wasn't alone. With him were Waring and a woman. The woman looked at me as I entered. Edward. Edward, darling. Would you mind just calling me Dan? Please, Edward. You remember me? Of course you remember your wife, don't you, Edward?

Oh, hello, Waring. I must buy you lunch sometime. Lunch? Oh, of course, of course. I told your wife and Mr. Waring that you were so much better, Mr. Stokes. But now you've disappointed me. Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Cordell. Hugo, please wait outside. I'll call you if I need you. Sure, Mr. Cordell. He does look like Edward. Must you say it so loud, Philip? Oh, sorry. How long does this go on? Not much longer.

Of course, it all depends on you. Yes, how? We'll leave that until later. Clarice. What? You've got to sign those transfer papers. They're all right? Of course. Oh, uh, Edward, it might be interesting for you to watch yourself being committed. I'm warning all of you, I'm gonna get out of here. And when I do, I... And when you do, what?

Where's the real Edward Stokes? How does he know about Edward? Cordell, did you open your mouth? What's the difference? He can babble his head off and no one will pay any attention. Suppose something goes wrong. How can it? It's all too perfect. Of course it is. Sign the papers, Clarice. Get it over with. Good. Now let's go. Nothing can go wrong. Not unless you double-cross me. You've got your money and you're in as deeply as anyone. You better see that everything goes all right. It will. Fine. Now goodbye, Edward, and good luck...

Come along. Well, Mr. Stokes, you're now officially in my care. That should make everything just ducky. Oh, it will. If it's not asking too much, what happens now? My dear Mr. Stokes, if you knew, you wouldn't like it. What's to prevent me from reaching across this desk and knocking your head off just for the fun of it?

This gun will prevent it. You wouldn't dare use it. No, not directly. But suppose you did try something. Suppose we struggled and the gun went off accidentally. Suppose it did? And killed you. Who would be your witness? Not you. You'd be dead. Not Hugo. Because he saw you attack me this morning. Cordell leaned back in his chair and grinned. Then he laid the gun on the desk. It was so close to me. So close. So close.

He knew what I was thinking because his grin widened. But I had to take the chance. I jumped. Stay right there, Cordell. All right. Now that you've got the gun, what will you do? Hand me that phone. Certainly. Here you are. Keep your hands on top of the desk. With pleasure. Uh, whom are you going to call? The police. All right. Go ahead.

Hugo! Hugo! What's the matter? Mr. Stokes. Be careful, Hugo. He's raving. Hugo, you've got to believe me. I'm not Edward Stokes. I'm Dan Holliday. Give me two minutes to put through a phone call. No, no, no, Mr. Stokes. You don't want to do anything with that gun. Better give it to me like a good boy. Hugo, please. Please stay back. Careful, Hugo. He may shoot. Stay back, Mr. Cordell. I can handle him. Hugo, listen to me. Listen to me. Give me two minutes on that phone. Just one minute. Mr. Stokes, give me that gun. Come on, give it to me. Wait, Hugo. Wait, Hugo.

Wait, I don't want to shoot, but I'll have to do it if you come any closer. Better not. Hugo, I'm in a spot. The real Edward Stokes is dead, Hugo. He's been killed by his wife and his attorney. Listen to me. Stand still and listen to me. Easy. Easy, Mr. Stokes. Easy. The real Stokes has been killed. He was taken from the first sanitarium and killed. I was brought here, Hugo. Brought here to impersonate Stokes. Cordell wants me to shoot you, Hugo, so I can be killed legally. Sure, sure, sure. Stokes! Hugo! I know all that, Mr. Stokes, but... But if you'll just... Hugo. Hugo.

I'm afraid you killed him, Stokes. Cordell, you shot the poor devil. Of course I did, Mr. Stokes. You shot him with another gun you just took out of that drawer. That's perfectly true, Mr. Stokes. Ballistics can prove which gun killed Hugo. That's true too, Mr. Stokes. But who would think of ballistics in connection with a maniac? Cordell stood there, smoking gun in his hand.

Oh, it was a beautiful frame. In a second, the rest of the people in the place would crowd into that office. What chance would I have? None. I'd have talked myself into a lather. Cordell put the gun back onto his desk. Well, Mr. Stokes, what now? I can prove I didn't shoot this gun. Think you'll get the chance? I'll be back. Get out of the way.

Be careful, all of you. Don't chase after him. He's got a gun. He killed Hugo. Stay back. Let him go. Say bye to General Alar. I ran out into the night, out into the rest of my nightmare. I cleared the grounds of the rest home and took to the woods. There was only one thing in my favor, the darkness. I stayed in the woods, but I had to get to a phone. I don't know how long I walked. Maybe an hour, maybe two. Then I saw a house. There were lights on it. I hesitated, but I had to get to that phone.

Is that you, Wally? Yeah, yeah, it's me. Just a minute. Don't. Don't scream, please. Get back. Please. Please don't. Look, I'm not going to hurt you. I want to get to a phone. Have you got one? No. There's no phone here. Where's the nearest one? The villain station down the road.

Have you got any men's clothes here? In the closet. Would you mind getting them out? Go away, please. I won't tell anybody you've been here, but don't hurt me, please. You know who I am? The radio. They said. How long ago? Half an hour, maybe. Get those clothes for me, please. Get them. All right. They won't fit you. They're too small. I don't care about that. Throw them on the table there.

Just trousers and coat. All right. I pulled the trousers and coat on over the pajamas I was wearing. The woman watched me and she watched the door. She was expecting someone.

Wally, probably her husband. Then... Please, please go now. How far is that filling station? About two miles. There's no phone closer than that? No. All right, you stay in here. You're not going to get hurt. Just stay in here until you're sure I'm far enough away. You get that? Yes, I won't move. Good. I'll return the clothes later. Thank you.

She screamed. I could hear her screams fading into the night as I ran. I had two miles to go, two miles through the brush and woods. I couldn't risk getting to the road. Then I heard something. I ran. I ran until my legs were torn by the brush. I ran until my breath choked in my throat. Then I saw the station, but I couldn't get to it. I crept closer and lay down in a mud-filled ditch.

I knew then what a fox must feel like with the hounds tearing at his heels. I listened. I heard Cordell's voice. To begin with, he's dark-haired, wearing pajamas. But he may have picked up some clothes somewhere. I haven't seen anybody. Better be careful of him, Clayton. He's got a gun. Already killed a man back at the home. Don't take no chances. Shoot to kill. I will, Sheriff. Thanks for warning me. Okay, Clayton.

Oh, uh, got a gun? Sure, always keep one in station. Good. Keep your radio turned on, too. We're running bulletins on the air. That way you can tell if he's headed this way. Sure. See you later, Sheriff. Remember, he's dangerous. A homicidal maniac. Take no chances. Okay, Mr. Cordell, thanks. So long. So long, Clay. I watched the attendant, Clay, go back into the filling station...

I watched him take a gun from a drawer and shove it into his pocket. I crept across the road. My stomach hurt from pressing it close against the concrete. Clay came out of the station, looked up and down the road. Then he turned off the lights and locked the door. Don't take another step. Don't look around. Don't reach for that gun in your pocket. What are you going to do? Nothing. You won't get hurt. I want to use the phone in the station. It's out of order. You're lying. I'm not lying. Why don't you try it?

Where are the keys to the door? In my pocket. Keep your hands out of that pocket. You want the keys, don't you? Keep your back turned. I know that gun is in your coat pocket. The key's there, too? No, in my trousers. Reach in. Get them out. But be careful. Now, unlock the station door and go in ahead of me. Never mind the lights. Look, why don't you give me your gun? You haven't got a chance, fella. The roads are crawling with prowl cars. They were here just a minute ago. Yes, I know what I saw. I reached in that coat pocket. Back to me.

Reach in and take out that gun. All right. Hold it by two fingers and drop it on the floor. Go on. Now, stand over there while I use the phone. It's out of order, I told you. Stay where you are. Hello? Hello? I told you. Where's another phone? The nearest one is about five miles down the road. You're lying. Like I was about this phone? Look, please, why don't you give up? Give me that gun, we'll go into town.

Please. They'll shoot you down on sight if you leave here alone. I've got to take that chance. No, you don't. I want to give you a break, fella. I want to give you a break because... Because? Once I saw a dog shot. A dog they all said was mad. It wasn't mad. All it wanted was water. But they shot it without giving it a chance. Please, give me your gun. Look, if I tell you a story, you won't believe it.

I know you won't. Maybe I will. Go ahead. I'm not Edward Stokes. I'm not the man they're hunting for. He's dead. Killed by his wife and his attorney. What? I think because they wanted his estate. If I'm killed as Stokes, they'll identify me as him. Please, give me the gun. You don't believe me, do you? I believe only that if you leave here and get out on that road, you'll be shot down. I... You're hurt. Never mind. Get me to a phone. I can't. Hello, Eddie.

All right, here. Take the gun. Take it. What's the way, fella? Now you've got the gun. I want you to do one thing. Get me to a phone. Let me call the police. Let me identify myself, will you? Come on. I've got a car. Clayton got me to a phone. I called Lieutenant Kling and told him the story. And less than an hour later, the sheriff, his men, Clayton and I walked into Cordell's office.

Ah, you got him. Good work, Sheriff. Yeah, we got him. I'm surprised you took him alive. Yeah, so are we.

Mind stepping over here a minute, Mr. Cordell? What for? Get over. What is this? You'll find the gun that killed Hugo in that drawer, Sheriff. What? This man's mad, Sheriff. I heard different from the city. Look out. Take it easy, Cordell. Get that gun, Sheriff. That's the gun that killed Hugo, not the one I gave Clayton. You were right, Mr. Cordell. No one would have thought of ballistics to see which gun had killed Hugo.

Now I think I need a bath and a nice long rest. Michelle Waring and Mrs. Stokes were arrested on suspicion of murder. Police are searching for the body of Edward Stokes. Gee, Mr. Holliday. Well, it wasn't nice, Susie.

But let's forget it. Sure. I know what you mean. Oh, say, I have to remind you. Of what? You've got a luncheon appointment today. Luncheon? Oh, no, Susie. Next week, same time, through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd stars as Dan Holliday in Box 13. Box 13 is directed by Richard Sandville, with this week's original story by Russell Hughes. Original music is composed and conducted by Rudy Schrager.

Part of Susie is played by Sylvia Picker and production is supervised by Vern Carstensen. Box 13 is a Mayfair production from Hollywood. Watch for Alan Ladd in his latest Paramount Picture.

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Recently, a new client called me and started by saying, Mr. Morgan, I really need your help, but I'm just a nobody. Those words stunned me, and I immediately called him back. And we're now helping him and his family after a terrible accident. I'm John Morgan of Morgan & Morgan. Everybody who comes to our firm at their time of need is a somebody.

I grew up poor, but my grandmother was like a queen to us. At Morgan & Morgan, our goal is to level the playing field for you and your family at your time of need. The insurance company has unlimited money and resources. You need a firm who can fight them toe-to-toe. For right at 30 years, we have fought them in courtrooms throughout America. Our

Our results speak for themselves. And always remember this, everybody is a somebody and nobody is a nobody. Visit ForThePeople.com to learn about our firm. Morgan & Morgan, For The People. Injured? Visit ForThePeople.com for an office near you. Mystery Theater. Tonight, A Perfectly Happy Life by Ted Ferguson.

I don't understand what's happening. This suspicion. Something's wrong. I shouldn't be worried. I have everything. A perfectly happy life. And yet, my wife. I suspect my wife. I have to go, darling. Thank you for the lunch. Don't let them cut it too short, Maria. I like your hair long.

If it's going to bother you, perhaps I should cancel my appointment. Oh, no, please, Maria. If you want your hair short, have it short. It's your decision, not mine. I'm sorry, Jim. I only want to make you happy. I'm happy enough already. How could I be anything else? You do everything I ask. Bye, darling. Goodbye, darling.

I'm really surprised. Didn't think I'd ever see you again. Yes, it's a strange world, Peterson. Come in. Sit down. Your office hasn't changed much. Neither have I. Same office, same job. I'll never get a promotion. You've taken care of that. Well, it could be worse. I haven't had you fired. Yet. You married the boss's daughter. You've got years to work on it. Well, the truth is, Peterson, I won't have you fired. I like the idea of having you here.

I receive a lot of satisfaction just knowing you're frozen, unable to move up the company ladder. Is that the purpose of your visit? To make sure I'm suffering? I wish it was, but it isn't. I have to talk to you about a personal matter. Why me? You know I can't stand the sight of you. Will you listen? Yeah, I'll listen. I want to tell you this. I want to get it all out so that I can see it clearer myself. You know me, Peterson. I'm a lone wolf. I run separate from the pack because I don't want to share the spoils.

Most of my life, I wanted to be at the top, to have money and success, but I was frustrated. I didn't know how to get it. Then I discovered the secret of honesty and integrity. You have to get rid of them if you're going to make it. You have to apply the complete lack of scruples you use in your private affairs to the business world. In effect, you have to become a 24-hour fraud. Huh?

I was working here in that broom closet of an office down the hall when you first found out about my set of ethics. Remember that day, just a year ago, when you called me into this room? You could hardly contain your anger. Sit down, Conrad. Yes, sir. And you can stop smiling. It doesn't impress me. Oh, whatever you say, Mr. Peterson. I gather you've heard about LeBlanc. I heard he's in the hospital. It isn't serious, is it? No. Appendicitis. Oh.

He's a good man. We think so. In fact, we're considering him for regional supervisor. Did LeBlanc mention the Mexican conference to you? He was due to go this year, but his illness has made it impossible. Oh, he mentioned it last week. He was quite excited about it. I'm afraid we have to send someone else. We have to send you, in fact. You're familiar with LeBlanc's work, and it's too close to the date to have anyone else bone up on it. Very well, sir. I, uh...

Thank you for choosing me. I appreciate it. You were chosen, Conrad, solely because there isn't enough time to have anyone else do it. I'm surprised to hear you say that, sir. I'm a hard worker. A hard schemer would be more like it. I went to the hospital to visit LeBlanc last night, and he told me about the bribe. What bribe is that, sir? He was offered a position with another company.

He was undecided about taking it or remaining here and standing a strong chance of becoming a regional supervisor. He said you promised him $1,000 in $100 monthly payments if he'd quit our company and leave the supervisor's job wide open for you. You made the same offer to his wife if she'd persuade him to do it.

You know, I said there were other matters relating to his wife and you, matters that are out of my jurisdiction as your superior, but nonetheless disgust me as a person. When you come back from the conference, LeBlanc should be fit and ready to discuss the situation with us. I'm therefore postponing my official verdict until then. Well, I hope LeBlanc recovers his full strength because he'll need it.

I intend to put up a battle to clear my name of this phony accusation. We'll see, Conrad. We'll see. You had me, of course. I had offered the money to LeBlanc, and I had been involved with his wife. Well, anyway, that's how things stood when I caught that plane to Mexico City in four days of false smiles and calm words at the conference. Well, it was on Friday, two days before I was due to return to Montreal, that I met Manuel Cortez.

I was at a cocktail party for conference delegates at a hotel owned by Senor Segura. You don't seem to be enjoying the party, Mr. Conrad. Oh, just a momentary lull, a few more drinks, and I'll be dancing on the table. Is there something bothering you? Pardon me, I hate to be rude, but I don't recall meeting you before, Senor. You haven't?

But you know who I am, and I'm hardly that famous. Research, Mr. Conrad. I specialize in it. My name is Manuel Cortes. I am personal assistant to Ramon Segura. The Ramon Segura, the man who owns half the world? Perhaps not half the world, but a great deal of it. One of my main occupations for Señor Segura involves the Segura Foundation, an unpublicized organization which gives assistance to individuals who have problems.

In most cases, the subjects are people who work for Segura Company and are kept from advancement despite their excellent qualifications. We discovered these people through extensive research and some personal observation. Why, this week, after completing the research, we have been observing you. Oh? And what have you discovered?

That you are an ideal subject for this year's assistance project. Oh, I'd hate to disappoint you, Cortez, but you have to count me out. I've got problems you wouldn't want to be involved in. If you mean the bribe offer, we're quite willing to be involved. You know about that? Mr. Peterson submitted a report to our Montreal president who, in turn, permitted our investigator to read it. You still want to help me? That doesn't make sense.

Why me when there's lots of honest young men around? They don't need assistance. You do. The Foundation realizes you have the potential to do far greater things. You have intelligence and ambition. Eliminate the barriers that are blocking your path, and we're sure you'll become a worthy human being. Well, all right, Cortez. I'll go along with that. What do you want me to do? A very minor stipulation.

Come with me to Señor Segura's house tomorrow. He would like to meet you. After that, everything will go as you want it to. Well, I'd never heard of the Segura Foundation. Segura Foundation? Yeah. It isn't every day that a stranger walks in and offers you the moon. At that stage of the game, what could I lose? In Montreal, I was bound to be fired. Well, the next morning, I met Cortez in front of the hotel, and we drove to Segura's home.

It's a mile or so farther. You'll be able to see the house in a minute. I didn't think there'd be such flat and barren lands so close to Mexico City. Ah, Mexico is a country of contrast, Mr. Conrad. In some regions, there's thick jungles. There is something you haven't seen in Montreal. Over there, to your right. Pyramids. There are six of them in this area. And that's Señor Segura's house, where the foothills begin.

Must feel strange, having a dead civilization in your front yard. It wouldn't be for me. I'm descended from the Aztecs. Now, how could that be? Were the Aztecs wiped out hundreds of years ago? Wiped out or assimilated?

Who knows for certain? My father was convinced he was an Aztec, and so was his father. Perhaps my family is insane, but if it is, at least they are consistent. The insanity has lasted for generations. You don't have a copyright on family madness. It does happen in Canada, too. I suppose all countries have that much in common. Luna, she knows no boundaries. I am sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Conrad. The Señor Segura is signing some contracts.

Oh, Russell, don't worry about it.

I've been admiring the view. And I don't mean the pyramids. The girls in the swimming pool. They are friends of Señor Segura's daughter. She has some lovely friends. Compared to Maria Segura, they are positively ugly. She's one of the most beautiful women in Mexico. Ah, Señor Conrad. Que alegría. This is a pleasure. I am Ramon Segura. Oh, I'm pleased to meet you, Señor. You have a fantastic home here. I'm...

That swimming pool is the largest I've ever seen. There are a few lakes in Mexico that are larger, but only a few. If you don't mind, sir, I must phone into the city. Go ahead, Manuel, go ahead.

I trust my English is good enough to talk to you without Manuel. On top of everything else, he's an excellent translator. Senor, I'm sure your English is better than mine. To be truthful, I am extremely proficient in English. I went to an American university, Harvard, for several years.

My late wife was an American and she made sure the whole family learned her language and learned it well. I see. I presume Manuel explained about the foundation? Sir, he said that he wanted the foundation to help me in my present predicament. But frankly, I don't see how it can.

It will take more than money. The things that money cannot arrange, Señor Conrad, power can. I could insult, rob, or even kill a person and not be punished. In your case, I have more power than is needed. I own the company you work for.

You tell me what you'd like to have done to the people you understand and you weigh, and I'll do it. You're not serious. You mean I could pick their fate? Oh, the foundation will do everything you desire. That's how to believe, senor. Oh, I give you my word, senor. Well, my immediate superior in Montreal is a man called Peterson. I'd like to have him fired.

On second thought, I think I have a better fate for Peterson. He's one of a long line of petty authoritarians who've been holding me down all these years. I'd rather have him kept on the staff, kept permanently on the same job under my thumb. Ah, este, señor Conrad. I prefer it if you remain here as my house guest for the next week, eh? It would be better if you are out of the way until the arrangements are finished.

That afternoon, having moved my luggage from the hotel to Segura's home, I went down to the pool to lie in the sun. Didn't seem to be anyone around. I stretched out on a deck chair and felt the heat of the sun on my body. Conrad, I thought to myself, for some crazy reason, you've got a benefit. You're going to have it made. I just lie back and relax.

But hold on tight with both hands. Buenos dias, senor. Oh, buenos dias. Am I disturbing you? Oh, no, no, I... In fact, I'm lonely. The house seemed to be empty. My father and Manuel have gone into Mexico City on business. And my friends have deserted me for a polo match. Oh, you're senor Segura's daughter? Yes, yes.

Maria Segura. I'm Jim Conrad. Do you like polo? I don't know. I've never seen it. I'm mad about it. But I decided to stay home today. Oh, you're not feeling well? No, Mr. Conrad. I stayed home so that I could meet you. Really? I'm not that much of an attraction in Canada. Perhaps it's because you've never been researched before.

You see, I went through your file when Father was out. It made me curious to match the facts with the face. How do they compare? They don't. You have fine, innocent features. The file says you're a deceitful rogue. Well, if I were you, I'd believe the file. I do. When Manuel has someone researched, it's always accurate. And now I have to go. Oh, I've disappointed you.

You're eager to get to the polo match. I'm not disappointed, Mr. Conrad. I want to change my clothes. I want to look my best when I'm sitting across the table from you at dinner. In the week that followed, I saw Maria every day. We would often drive to Mexico City to take in the tourist sites. You're annoyed because I haven't work to do? No, I didn't say that. I said it was a shame you haven't a mission in life, that's all.

Can't be very rewarding driving me up and down this highway all day. I have a mission, Jim. I just haven't told you about it. What's that? Marriage. I've been preparing for it since childhood. The man I marry will be the happiest person on earth. Why haven't you married, Jim? It's easier to move about when you're on your own. You won't be moving about when you're a vice president. No, I guess not. You should marry.

Have someone to care about you. The way you're living now, you could die tomorrow and no one would know the difference. Was that in my file, too? No relatives, no friends? Yes. It's a crowded document. Maria, tell me the truth. What else does your father and Manuel know about me? I mean, besides the business of the bride. The trouble you had eight years ago. They have some information on that. Well, that must have taken some digging.

No one in Montreal knows about it. Did you do it? Steal the money? Sure. I broke into the office one night and I took it from the desk drawer. I knew it would be there. And they couldn't prove it. What did you do with the money? Spend it. Wine, woman and song. Mostly women? Mostly. I admitted when I first met you that I was a rogue. Are you shocked? I'm not shocked. Anyway, it doesn't matter to me. Father and Manuel think you'll change when you're successful.

What do you think? The same as they do, only more so. We were engaged before I left Mexico. Really? And a month later, remember, after being installed here as vice president... Yes. Maria and her father flew up for the wedding. Two months after we were married, the money arrived. I was surprised at first. Then I realized her father must have arranged it. You mean you never heard of him? No, never.

But if he wanted to die and leave me $200,000, I'm not going to argue. I thought you didn't have any relatives. Yeah, I thought so too. Well, what should we do with it? Oh, you could buy a new dress. No, seriously, Jim. It's a lot of money. Do you know what I'd like to do? Quit your father's company and start a business of my own. Oh, Jim, that's a wonderful idea. Well, I did just that. Remember, started my own firm.

For six months, I worked feverishly to make it succeed, and I loved every minute of it. But a man named Warren provided the only dark spot, you know? There must be a way of discouraging him. Warren's too stubborn. Maria, I've got to have that property. I can make a fortune with it. My company would be tremendously successful. Should I write to Father? He might have a suggestion. All right, sure. I'd welcome any advice from him.

Segura sent a short note telling me to keep fighting Warren, to hope for the best. And then mysteriously, Warren dropped out of the picture. He said his company no longer wanted the property. Well, someone had gotten to him. A threat or a bribe. I didn't know which, but I knew who. Segura. But wasn't that going too far? Why extend himself to make things easy for me? Was he being overindulgent because I was married to Maria? Or was it something else?

Something I could never guess at. Are you happy, darling? Really happy? Yes. Of course you know I am, Maria. I keep telling you. Yesterday, last week, last month... She was always probing. Trying to find any discontent in my life and then... Working to eliminate it. The perfect wife. Dedicated to pleasing me. It had never occurred to me to be suspicious... To question her concern and dedication...

Until yesterday, when I suddenly felt that something was wrong, that Maria and her father were partners in a conspiracy. It was late yesterday afternoon when Maria's father and Manuel Cortez arrived for a short holiday. They brought gifts. This is a statue of an Aztec god. It was found in a ruin near Merida. I can't say that I'm crazy about the snakes around the head. They had deep significance for the Aztecs.

All sculpture did, in fact. Sculpture was not superficial element as it is today, but a fundamental part of architecture and religion. Well, sir, you've already given us so many treasures. Our living room looks like an archaeological museum. One can never have too many pieces of art, Jim. You'll like this one. It's an Aztec sundial. Then he began staring at me. I can't describe the way he looked.

At dinner, I would glance across the table and find Segura's eyes set hard on my face. It was almost as though he was trying to hypnotize me. Maria, she was just the opposite, avoiding me. When I'd look in her direction, she'd turn away. Well, at night, I asked her about it. And? It was my imagination, she said. Nothing was the matter. Everything was normal.

This morning I was still thinking about their behavior and a woman approached me. Mr. Conrad. Yes? Can I talk to you? Well, if it's important, my secretary can make an appointment for you. It's your wife and her father. I have to warn you. Warn me about what? Please. Can we go in your office? All right. My son was married to Maria Segura and now no one can find him.

I've had detectives looking. He's disappeared completely. You must be mistaken. My wife wasn't married before. She won't tell you. She'll lie, like they did about my son. They said he ran away with another woman, but it isn't true. He was too happy with Maria. He had everything a man could want. Have you been to the police? Many times. But they accept Segura's explanation. He's a rich man. They believe him rather than me. Why should I be any different? You've got to listen to me.

I came here from New York to talk to you. John met Maria when he was on a holiday in Mexico. He worked for one of Segura's companies, and when they found out he'd been in jail, they offered to help him. Yes? Segura bought him a small factory in New York after he married Maria. A year later, he vanished. Oh. You'd better come home with me. I want to see how Segura reacts to this story. No, I can't. He told me that if I interfered again, he'd have me killed.

That's why I haven't contacted you before. I didn't have the courage to even write or phone you in case the guru found out. So why come here now, then? I have to warn you. I know they did something to John. They'll do it to you, too. I know they will. The detectives, they told me that you've had the same treatment from them that John did. It follows a pattern. I'm going now. Now, just a minute. I'm not sure I believe you. You must believe me, Mr. Conrad. Your life may depend on it.

Well, that's it, Peterson. The whole sordid tale. Have you asked your wife if she was married to someone named John? I wanted to today at lunch. Didn't seem the right place. I'll try tonight at home. The woman could have a motive for fabricating a story like that. A motive you don't know about. Anyway, the way you describe her, emotionally disturbed, I wouldn't accept any of it until you've spoken to your wife. And what if it's the truth?

Suppose something is going to happen to me. Don't ask me, Conrad. I'm the last person who wants to give you the answers to your problems. Yes, yes, of course. I forgot for a moment. Well, thank you, Peterson. It did help to talk about it. I'm more convinced now that Maria will have an explanation for everything.

You could leave Montreal, you know. I mean, if there's the slightest chance that something is wrong, you'd be better off somewhere else. Oh, you don't understand, Peterson. Despite my suspicions, I'd never leave Montreal. I have a perfectly happy life here. The music. Soothing. Have another drink?

It's soothing, too. Oh, I've had enough. Oh, I'm so tired. A hard day at the office? Oh, sort of. Oh, really, I don't know how to ask you this. Oh, I really am exhausted. What is it you want to ask me? If you've been married before. Yes, Jim. I've been married before. Are you...

And you never told me I... You're going to sleep, Jim. The drink was drugged. I've been married four times before. Each time in a different country. Quietly. And each time the marriage lasted one year. One full year. Maria. Why? What reason? Later, Jim. When you awaken...

It will all be explained. I'm in the basement of my home. On a stone altar. The room is filled with flowers. And rows of ancient statues. And carvings. And torches burning. It's almost like a holiday. A festival. She's awake, Maria. Maria.

The drug has emptied his body and pacified his mind. But he will understand what you say. Oh Maria. Oh, your cloak is beautiful. I haven't seen that before. Long and white. Covered with jewels. Paintings of birds. I have to tell you why you are going to die, Jim. It is part of a ritual. My father, Manuel, and I are Aztec descendants.

And as such, we obey all laws and principles established by our ancestors. You have been chosen for a sacrifice. In your case and in the others that preceded you, we have done what our ancestors did. Given a man one year of total pleasure and contentment. Allowing him to realize earthly fulfillment before sending his soul to live with the gods. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Oh, please. It is an honor for you. Most of your life has been wasted. Your soul will strengthen the sun on crops, help birds to fly and flowers to grow. Maria, no, don't. No, don't. You must cut the heart out cleanly, Maria. It must still be pulsating when it's lifted in the air. Oh, Maria.

They're coming towards me. Oh, Maria, her father. She is raising the knife. In a moment, in a moment, I will be dead. No!

This has been A Perfectly Happy Life by Ted Ferguson. You heard Michael Caine as Conrad, Judith Hilderman as Maria, Jorge Rodriguez as Segura, Tony Mackay as Manuel, Ned Conlon as Peterson, and Eileen Clifford as the woman. Technical operations by Alan LeClaire.

Sound technician, René Lavoie. Mystery Theater was produced by Earl Pennington.

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The whole drama of life is written in the sands of time.

The American Broadcasting Company presents another in a series of dramatic programs, The Clock. The Clock

A good watch will run indefinitely, neither too fast nor too slow, and what little regulation it may need is usually minor. The same can be said of the normal mind, but a watch that has been tampered with exaggerates the passage of time. The wheels may run too slowly or too fast.

This is not always apparent to the casual observer, however, at least on the surface. And the human mind that becomes abnormal is not always an easily detectable thing, even though that mind may house an appetite for murder.

They told me at the hospital that I was the homicidal type. Can you imagine? Me, a perfectly normal girl with a sweet disposition. I guess that's why I didn't like the place. Everybody was nuts in the joint of my sofa. So one night I found a loose bar in one of the windows, and I let myself out by climbing down some knotted bed sheets. Say, they must have been a sight to see when they found out I was gone.

And I took my nail file with me. When I reached St. Louis, I naturally got myself a job. I'm a manicurist. But only for men, see? And if I say so myself, I can dress up any barbershop in town. When the bald heads let me hold their fingers, they forget about their business travel. And they always feel at home with a nice, sweet, respectable girl like me.

So your name is Mabel? Yeah, what's yours? Charlie. I used to know a Charlie one in Dallas, Texas. And he was just as cute as you. Left hand, please. How long you been around here, Mabel? Oh, just a little while. You got any boyfriends? One or two. But nothing steady, huh? No. Say, that's a classy ring you got there. Four carats. The stick pin's five. You must be rich. I get by.

And I don't mind spending either when I meet a classy number, Mabel, like you. You're squeezing my hand. That's what it's for, ain't it? It all depends on who's doing the squeezing. What's on your date book for tonight? Nothing much. Movie, maybe. And then to bed. You want to make that a nightclub and a show? I might. When do you knock off here? Six. I'll be outside waiting, baby. Five minutes of. And I'll be looking for you. Charmed. Charmed.

He took me to a chop suey joint and then we found a bar. The floor show was rotten so we didn't stay too long. And Charlie wanted to go for a nice long walk in the park. But he got tired even quicker than I thought he would. And we sat down on a bench right near the lake. Ah, it's quiet here. Yeah. And we're all alone. You're gonna try to get fresh now, Charlie. You know the routine. Are you married? Yeah, but my wife don't understand me. That's how it goes.

But you're the kind of a girl who does. From the minute I met you, I figured you were just my type. You know, Mabel, I could go for a kid like you. Nice, sweet kid. Big, blue, innocent eyes. He looked at me and I looked at him. And then he bent over to give me a kiss. I remember his face smelled from some kind of a shaving lotion. And I noticed the sweat on his upper lip as I opened my handbag and took out the nail file.

And I also remember how his eyes bulged out like marbles as I jammed the file through the back of his wrinkled neck. I didn't do it for the diamonds in the wallet. Although I figured I might as well take them with me as long as he wasn't going to use them anymore. And anybody who says I did it for the diamonds ought to be ashamed. I did it because I like to do it. I don't know why. And a girl's got to have a little fun every once in a while.

The next one I met was Alfred. He was a doll. And it wasn't long before we got well acquainted.

So you're in the messenger business? Well, not exactly. I mean, I don't own the firm. I'm just one of the bonded carriers. What's that? Well, we carry stocks and cash from one place to another. That's about all there is to it. Right hand, please. I bet that's dangerous. My work? No. You see, most people on the street don't even know I got something valuable in my briefcase when I make a delivery. And besides, I carry a gun. Oh, a gun? Don't be afraid, Mabel. I ain't got it with me now.

I used to know a fella named Alfred in Dallas, Texas. Did he look like me? Not half so nice. Uh-huh. I never met a girl who was half as nice as you. Oh, you're just saying that to kid me. No, on the level, I mean it. You married, Alfred? No, but I hope to be someday. You'd be a nice catch for any girl. Uh-huh.

I don't make too much dough, even though I carry a lot of it around. But if a girl don't mind a movie and a glass of beer, I can provide her with an entertaining evening. Don't sound bad. How about it, Mabel? I'll let you know. I usually make my last delivery on Friday afternoon about 3 o'clock. I could meet you later or we could step out.

Where's your office, Alfred? On Front Street. Oh, say, that's funny. I live on Revere. That's three blocks away. You want me to call for you? Sure. At four, after I make my delivery? Okay, Alfred, at four. But give me your office phone number, just in case something comes up and I've got to call it off. I'll put it down, but try to keep the date, Mabel. I promise you'll have fun. If I keep it, Alfred, I know I will.

I got off at one on Friday, and at 2.30 sharp, I called the number Alfred gave me. I don't know why, I just couldn't wait until four. I guess I just had a yen or something, and I was looking for excitement.

Alfred? Yeah? This is Mabel. Oh, hello. You're not calling off our date today? No, no, I just want to make it sooner, that's all. Sooner? Can you pick me up in 15 minutes? But I got a delivery to make. I'll make it with you. Don't you want company? It's against the rules. Oh, don't be like that. I'm lonesome. And besides, some guy's been pestering me all day. He's dying to take me out and he said he might come over. I want to avoid him if I can. You calling from Revere Street? Yes. Number 71 where I live.

Hurry, Alfred. And then after you make that delivery, we'll have some fun. Okay, baby. I'll be right over. And I'll be waiting. I don't know what made me lie that way. I don't live on Revere. And I don't know what made me go to number 71 and hang around the hole. I must be mischievous, huh? I guess I'm just a card.

Alfred? Oh, hello, kid. I thought I'd wait for you here in the hall and save time. Let's get going. I want to get rid of this package of money I got and quit for the day. You're cute, Alfred. What? You're really cute. Uh-huh. You think so? Then you and I are going to have lots of fun. Oh, dear. What's the matter? The bow on my shoe just got untied. Oh, here, let me do it. Oh, you darling. No trouble, Mabel. No trouble at all. No trouble at all.

He had curly hair, and I could see it needed cutting when he bent over to tie the bow. And the curls ran down the back of his neck to the point where I stuck the file.

Oh, the papers were full of it, and you can imagine what they said. Messenger robbed of 10,000 cash. The liars, it was only 9,804. And then he said he was killed for the money. Ain't that a sketch? The smirch on a nice girl's reputation like that. When all I wanted was a thrill. The feel of the file as it went through his neck. It almost made me giggle. And a girl's got a right to catch herself alive. Oh.

The next week, I left my job and set myself up in a fancy flat. I got some snappy clothes in the high-class shops, and when I walked down the avenue, I looked like a lady. It was one of those walks, by the way, when I first met Harry. Oh, excuse me. You talking to me? Yeah, you happen to know where High Street is? On the other side of town, just follow this avenue. Thanks a lot. You going my way? Well, yeah. You like a lift? I guess I wouldn't mind. Good, hop in.

I don't want you to think I do this as a regular practice. Oh, no. I mean, I'm not the kind who lets herself get picked up by any Tom, Dick or Harry. That's funny. What is? That's my name. Harry? Yeah. What's yours? Mabel. Glad to know you, Mabel. The feeling is mutual. Play a banter. We'll take you wherever you want to go. I'm not particular. No kidding? Well, in that case, how about some lunch?

I know a place pretty close. Maison Rouge. Frenchy? Uh-huh. Oh, I say, that sounds good. You know, I'm crazy about frog's legs. Your own ain't doing so bad. Now, don't be so chummy. How about it, Mabel? Should we put on the feedback? Did I say no? Okay. It must have cost plenty. It didn't come cheap. What line of business are you in?

I'm retired. You mean it? Well, it's like being retired. I make my dough the easy way. On what? Horses. You raise horses? No, I play them. I play anything, baby. As long as it pays off good. You're a gambler. That's the idea. I never met a gambler before. And you got a treat coming, kid. Watch your driving use two hands. You and I will get along, Mabel. Oh, sure. We'll get along. Just fine. Oh.

Harry took me out every night for a week and we had a lot of fun. He had money to burn and he spent it like a sport. That's why I was kind of sorry when our friendship had to end.

Hello, Mabel. Say, what's the big idea? I've been waiting on this corner for 20 minutes. I'm sorry I was late, honey. I had a little business to attend to. Look. Harry. Where did you get all that money? Crab game. Big one. Joe Laurie was in on it and Louis Crane, two big shot gamblers. And the luck was running for baby. How much money is in that roll? 50 grand. I didn't think there was that much money in the world. It's more where that came from, honey. And baby's gonna get it.

Now, how about we celebrate, huh? I know a classy roadhouse just outside of town. You mean you're going to carry all that cash around with you? Why not? I'll bank it in the morning. Just as soon have it on me as leave it at home. It's safer with me. After all, who have I got to be afraid of? You? That's a laugh. I scream when I see a mouse. What you need is a protector, honey. Somebody like you? Why not? You're too innocent to be running around without a guy to keep an eye on you.

And I'm setting myself up as candidate number one. Come on, Harry. Let's go to that place you talked about. I'm dying for dance. Me too. Then maybe later on we can get better acquainted. You sure you can drive, Harry? Yeah, sure. No question about it. You had a lot to drink? Yeah, I'm all right. I'm all right. That place is nice. I gotta go back there one day. You mean we gotta go back, don't you? Sure. We. Oh.

What are you doing? Filing my name. There's some file you got there. Looks more like a stiletto. Oh, Harry, you're tired. No, no, I ain't. It's dangerous to drive when you're tired. Why don't you park for 15 minutes and take a little nap? Here? In the woods? You can rest on my shoulder if you like. That's what I call an offer I can't refuse. Am I crowding you, Mabel? No. Rest your head over here. Oh.

You know, you were right. I am a little tired. I told you. If I grab a couple of winks, don't forget to wake me up. You go to sleep, Harry. You'll get a nice rest. The drinks made him good and sleepy, and he closed his eyes. It was so quiet out there and so peaceful. And poor Harry was so very, very tired. That's why I figured I did him a good turn. You see, he didn't have to wake up anymore at all. After I slid the nail file into his throat...

When a man gambles with a deck of cards, his luck might run for hours. When he risks his neck in a speeding car, he's fortunate if it lasts for minutes. But no one can set a time limit on how long your luck will run when you're getting away with murder. ♪

Well, by that time, I guess I was just about the happiest girl alive. I had everything I wanted, didn't I? Well, almost everything. Because after all, even $50,000 just goes so far. When I first saw Brandon, I got a jingle up and down my spine. Charlie was fat and Alfred was cute and Harry was tough. But Brandon was elegant.

My, oh my, but he sure was class. When he knocked on my door that first night, he was wearing evening trousers and patent leather shoes and a red silk dressing gown that only went halfway down, just like in the movie. And he had a monocle stuck in one eye and a long cigarette holder. And the way he talked, you just wanted to listen all day long.

I beg your pardon. I do hope I'm not disturbing you. Oh, not at all. I wonder if I could borrow a lemon. A lemon? Yes, an ordinary lemon. Oh, are you sure? Thank you kindly. I need the lemon because I'm mixing a drink for myself. A tall drink to cool the inner man. Tall drinks are nice, especially when it's hot. True, very true.

Would you care to join me in my flat? I don't mean to be rude, of course, and please forgive me if I appear too forward. Oh, that's all right. We're neighbors, so I'm not insulted. What's your name? Brandon. Yours? Mabel. Happy to know you, Mabel. We really should have met before. So there's nothing like making up for lost time, and we can start right now. I'll bring the lemons.

It's odd we haven't met before. We've both been living here for over a month. I noticed you in the elevator one day. I remember because you were wearing spats. Where are you from? California. My father was a rancher, and when he died, I left home. My father made a lot of money, and he never had time to enjoy it on his air. I'm from New York, Mabel, and I'm more or less of an air myself. Really? My father was an Englishman, Sir Brandon Montague. Perhaps you've heard of him? I don't know much about foreigners. Of course, my mother was American, and so am I.

I used to know a man named Brandon in Dallas, Texas. No relation of mine, I'm sure. Will you have another drink? Why not? I like your apartment, Brandon. Oh, well, it's not quite what I had in mind, but in times like these. Who's the lady in that painting on the wall? Oh, my first wife, Dolores. Beautiful, isn't she? I'll see her.

We were divorced some years ago. I'm footloose and fancy free now. Me too. It's got its advantages, but then you get lost. Yes, I know how it is. However, when one is lucky enough to meet someone as charming as you, Mabel, one thanks one's lucky stars for being free. Oh, now, isn't that sweet? Here's your drink. Here's good health. Yes, good health.

Brandon and I saw a lot of each other. My goodness, but he sure was smart. He knew all about everything, like Latin and algebra. To say nothing about a compliment a girl. We used to talk and talk, and his apartment or in mine. And believe it or not, he never made a pass. A gentleman, that's what he was. A perfect gentleman.

And some of my ancestors on my father's side came over with William the Conqueror. To England, I mean. Oh, you sure have got a family history, Brandon. And you? I'm just a rich man's daughter who's looking for a friend. I'd be honored if you accepted me into that category. Then can I ask your advice? Oh, please do, concerning anything. I'm anxious to invest in money. In what? Some save. I feel it ain't right to have all that dough just lying around. I want to put it to work. Well, there are several worthwhile investments I know of. I happen to be an investor in several of them myself.

Of course, I do have one idiosyncrasy. What's an idiosyncrasy? Huh? What you said. Oh, a constitutional peculiarity, more or less of a special peculiar characteristic. Oh. And my idiosyncrasy is a fear of banks. Yeah? Somehow I don't trust banks. I don't know why. Well, where do you keep your money? In a wall safe over there. I had it installed by an expert. It contains my valuables and my cash.

Most of it, at any rate. I say, that's a swell idea. I find it keeps me free from worry. My investments, of course, are fully protected by my brokers. I've got about $50,000 I want to invest as a starter. Well, let me speak to my representatives about it, Mabel. I'm sure they'll make a few good suggestions. I'd appreciate it.

You wouldn't be interested in a wall safe, too, like mine? Maybe I would. But how can you be sure a burglar won't get at you? Unless it's opened with the exact combination and no mistakes. An electric alarm informs the police. There's very little risk, of course. I guess you memorized the combination. No, not yet. I've only had the thing for about a month, and it's a very complicated formula. How

However, in a week or so, I'll destroy the paper with a combination on it. Well, I guess I've got to go now, Brandon. Oh, so soon? I have some shopping to do. Mabel, may I see you this evening? Aren't we seeing too much of each other? Oh, do you think so? It's been so wonderful being with you. I've kept no track of time. I'll be home again about nine o'clock tonight. May I drop in on you for a nightcap? No. If you don't mind, I'd rather come here.

I got home to my apartment about 8.30 and changed into a fancy dress. Then I slipped my file into my evening bag and went across the hall to have a little fun with friends. You look charming, Mabel. Perfectly charming. You look pretty slick yourself. I've mixed the drinks already, so let's have an eye-opener. Well... Here's to a long life for both of us. Down the hatch.

Brandon. Yes, dear? Why don't you ever try to kiss me? I beg your pardon? You're the first man I've ever met who didn't make a pass. I have more respect for you, Mabel. But ain't she even human? Yes, very human. I've thought of kissing you many times. Well, who's stopping you? I'm only human myself. He took me in his arms and kissed me hard. And then he bent his head to kiss my hand. I felt like crying almost when I took the nail pile off.

He was going to look so messy in his fancy suit when I finished. As I raised my hand to give him the works... Brendan! Yes? What have you got on your neck? Adhesive tape and bandage I cut myself. Oh. Are you going to file your nails? Well, I thought... Oh, give me that file like a good girl who can wait till tomorrow. Sure. Everything can wait until tomorrow. Especially when you're in love. Oh.

Well, I couldn't jab him with that big bandage of cotton on his neck. And besides, he had the file. I was really surprised at Brandon for disappointing me like that. After all, he was such a gentleman. But when I left his flat a little later, we made a date for the end of the week. And I made sure to ask him for my file.

Hello? Brandon? Yes. This is Mabel. Mabel, where are you? I wanted to call you about our date tonight. I'm going to be out of town and I think I'll be back too late. Oh, I'm so sorry. Of course, if you wanted to meet me with your car and drive me home. I'd be delighted. I'm going to be all the way out in the sticks, Brandon, visiting a friend. If you could pick me up about nine. Just tell me where. Port Town. It's a little village 40 miles from here. It's got one drugstore and I'll be waiting there.

Wouldn't you prefer me to pick you up at your friend's house? No. No, that's not so good. You see, I'll have to make some kind of an excuse to get away, and I don't want my friend to be insulted. All right, Mabel. In front of the Portsdown Drugstore at nine. And then we can take a nice long ride together through the woods. Oh.

I took a train to Port-au-Ton, and I was in front of the drugstore by 7.30. I figured I could let him have it in the car, like I did with Harry. And he'd be carrying the key to his apartment. Somewhere in the desk, maybe, I'd find that combination. Of course, I wasn't doing it for the money. And anybody who says so just doesn't have any respect for a lady. Like always, I was really doing it for fun. THE END

Well, you wouldn't believe it, but I stood there until 11. Can you imagine that? And Brandon never showed up. By a quarter to 12, I got tired of hanging around, so I took the last train back to St. Louis. It was certainly ungentlemanly of Brandon to stand me up that way, but he was full of apologies when he called me the following day.

You don't know how awful I feel about it, Mabel, but my car broke down just after I left my flat. I'm so terribly sorry, dear. Well, I don't know if I'm going to forgive you, Brandy. Ah, you must. And besides, I've made up for it just a little. Hmm? How? I spoke to my broker, and he's going to make a wonderful investment for you. He's got a tip on the market, and he'll turn your $50,000 into a million. Oh, that sounds fine. Can you get the cash and bring it over to my apartment tonight at 8? Well...

All right, Brandon, anything you say. You can trust me. You know you can. Magic. The next day I made sure there was going to be no slip-up. I brought a load of sleeping pills along with me and I slipped them into Brandon's drink. He was so cute when he started to get sleepy. The radio was on and he was trying to keep himself awake. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight, Mabel. I feel so groggy. Maybe you want to take a nap? No, no.

It isn't very nice when one has company. However, let's get on with our little business. You, um, you have the cash? It's in my bag. Then you'd better let me have it. Now, Brandon. Yes, Mabel. All right, Brandon. I'll let you have it. Now. He was flat on his back asleep when I opened my purse. And he didn't feel a thing when I jabbed the nail file through his neck.

I found a combination, too, and I got a dough. There wasn't much. Not as much as I thought. And I was just about to leave when I felt kind of funny. There was something that hit my leg.

Then it traveled up to my stomach. It kind of paralyzed me in a way. I tried to think if there was something I ate, but all I had was the drink he mixed for me. And then I heard a voice. Now here is a special news bulletin supplied by police for your warning. It was coming from the radio. I tried very hard to listen. Brandon Montague, homicidal maniac, a man who has killed three women for their money.

Five feet ten, suave manner, monocle in left eye. Brandon Montague is wanted by the police. His favorite method for murder is a poisoned drink. So that's how it goes. Brandon Montague, the guy I trusted. I ain't even got strength enough to reach the ball. The only thing I sure would like to know is whether Brandon got as much fun out of it as I did.

Perhaps Mabel never knew it, but she supplied the answer to a riddle that is almost as old as time. Huh.

She demonstrated what would happen when the irresistible force met the object that was immovable. The clock will be heard again next week, same time, same ABC station. This program was written by Lawrence Klee, directed by Clark Andrews.

Music tonight was under the direction of Ralph Norman in the absence of Bernard Green. Heard on tonight's program were Fran Lafferty as Mabel and Charles Webster as the voice of the clock. This is Bill Crago speaking. Listen again next week, same time, for The Clock. This is ABC, the American broadcasting company.

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Do you want to live in a welcoming community and care for others in a place that cares about you? If so, follow your heart to British Columbia, Canada. Opportunities await at bchealthcareers.ca. A message from the Government of British Columbia.