OIL OF DOG: Man’s Best Friend Becomes Mankind’s Worst Ingredient | Paranormal & Crime Old Time Radio
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The Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Inner Sanctum. I. Ass. Present. Suspense. I am the Whistler.

Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Retro Radio, old-time radio in the dark, brought to you by WeirdDarkness.com. Here I have the privilege of bringing you some of the best dark, creepy, and macabre old-time radio shows ever created.

If you're new here, welcome to the show! While you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, sign up for our free newsletter, connect with us on social media, listen to free audiobooks I've narrated, plus visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you're struggling with depression, dark thoughts or addiction. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com. Now, bolt your doors…

Lock your windows. Turn off your lights. And come with me into tonight's retro radio, old-time radio in the dark. The CBS Radio Mystery Theater presents... Come in. Welcome. I'm E.G. Marshall.

The greatest poet-dramatist in the English-speaking theater, or perhaps in any language, is William Shakespeare, whose body was laid to rest 360 years ago, but whose spirit is as alive today as it will be in another three-score years or millennia.

This begins our salute to the master. Not in the soaring poetry of his words, which would be presumptuous for this series, but to the enduring excitement, suspense, and mystery of his tragedies, adapted especially for our audience today. Dramas as gripping and tense as any of the stories I have brought you in the past two years. This is a sorry sight. My hands. You must not dwell on what is done, Doctor.

It could make us mad. I thought I heard a voice cry, sleep no more. Macbeth has murdered sleep. Innocent sleep. Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, the death of each day's life. Bomb of hurt minds. Macbeth has murdered sleep. Macbeth has murdered sleep.

Our mystery drama, Murder Most Foul, was especially adapted from William Shakespeare's classic tragedy, Macbeth, for the Mystery Theater by Ian Martin and stars Kevin McCarthy. It is sponsored in part by Greyhound Package Express and Buick Motor Division. I'll be back shortly with Act One. ♪♪

The simplest of historical notes are enough to make this story as up-to-date as any murder on your newspaper's front page. Greed, passion, and revenge are as alive in our society today as they were in the Scotland of that time. This was a country of clans, warrior states held loosely together by a king who won and held his throne by force of arms.

Every clan who supported the king was headed by a thane, a rank equivalent to earl, conferred by the king. This is the story of one thane who aspired to be king and of the lady who drove him to reach for the prize. The haunting, bloody, tortured story of Macbeth.

Thane of Glamis. By heaven, Banquo, so foul and fair a day I have not seen. When the king hears of your deeds at arms, your future should be bright. Look, look yonder through the mist. What are they? So wild in their attire and withered. They don't look like inhabitants of the earth. And yet are

Look. They beckon to us. And I am drawn to them. I must go. Trouble, trouble, soil trouble. Fire burn and cold run bubble. What are you doing here, sisters? And a bonfire in all this rain? Ah!

Who are you? Speak if you can. Oh, hail Macbeth. Hail to thee, Thane of Glom. Why, Our Lady, she knows you. Oh, hail Macbeth. Hail to you, Thane of Cawdor. By that title, then, she knows me not. Oh, hail Macbeth. That shall

Hereafter! And there she proves she knows me not at all. Why could any prediction be more promising? Forgive me, sisters, but I believe that you can look into the seeds of time and tell which grain will grow and which will not. What fortune do you see for me? Hail Banquo, lesser than Macbeth, but greater! Who shall be not so happy as Macbeth, yet much happier? Ah!

Thank woe. That shall be the fangs. And yet no.

King himself! Dinkle and Macbeth! All hail! All hail! All hail! Stay, sisters! Tell me more! Too late, old friend. Even the fire has melted into thin air. Your children shall be kings. And you to be king? Ha!

Old Duncan would not like that so well. Or his son Malcolm, already named to succeed him. I don't think the Thane of Cawdor would be so pleased either. Well, it should bother him a little since he's alive and well. Yeah, I am anxious to get home to my lady. Come to the castle and let's leave this melancholy heath behind us. What hold the castle? Who goes there?

Macbeth and Banquo, weary, wet and battle-worn, and in haste for the comfort of a fire. Let down the drawbridge. Let down the drawbridge. The pain of the lands has come home. Lancet. Captain.

What can he be doing at my castle? No doubt to bring honors and greetings from Duncan, our grateful king. But we shall soon find out, for he is waiting to greet us. Well, I'll spend a little time on him. My lady is born. I want to welcome me home. You men, take the horses and see them groomed. Macbeth, to the Thane of Glams, I bring greetings from King Duncan for your victories against the invading Norsemen. And better still, I bring reward. I am instructed to greet you also as Thane of Cawdor. How?

Can the devil speak true? How can I be dressed in Cawdor's robes? I've just left him alive and well. And I have left him more recently very dead. Dead? Treason confessed and proved. The penalty? Death. A traitor. That sniveling coward. Oh, no good, Banquo. I saw him die. And nothing he ever did in life became him like the way he left it. But...

Let us spend no further time on him, Macbeth, an old friend, and Victor. Go, take the spoils of battle. Your lady knows of your honors and waits for you. Great Glamis. Worthy Cawdor. My husband and my darling. I am so proud of you, my new thane of Cawdor. Did Macduff's news surprise you? No. No?

You know how pleased you are. Pleased, yes, at the king's generosity. Surprised? No. Who else could have told you? Another woman. Then me. I'd cut her heart out and yours. Bloodthirsty little eagle. But you would have had a hard time finding this one's heart. What are you talking about?

Banquo and I were returning across the moor... when suddenly we spied the fabled three... The weird sisters. Aye. They hailed me as Glamis and Thane of Cawdor... and more. More than that. What? I was also hailed as king hereafter. Oh, no. Yes. Yes. No, indeed. Duncan is king...

And I am not in succession. And yet, they say the sisters are possessed of more than mortal knowledge. I have some further proof. Hmm? What? Did not Macduff tell you that King comes here tonight? Tonight? Huh? How long will he stay? He plans to leave tomorrow. If he sees the sun tomorrow... What?

What does that mean, my lady? Oh, my dear husband. Your face is a book which is too easily read. What both of us are thinking. No, no, no, no. It's beyond thought. We could not, cannot do this thing. Glamis, you are. Order you have become. And you shall be the third that was promised. S.R.M.,

Afraid you are too full of the milk of human kindness... to seize the opportunity when it is offered you. Here comes the king now. I must go. The king must be provided for. He will be provided for. I did not mean... Do not lie to yourself or me. Only to the others. Look innocent as a lamb... but hold the serpent under. Go quickly, my Lord Macbeth...

Leave all the rest to me. The raven himself will be horse who croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan as I watch him here from the battlement. If there are spirits that can read a mortal's thoughts, come and understand

Sex me here. Fill me from crown to toe with blackest cruelty. Thicken my blood. Drown all remorse. Come to my woman's breasts and turn my milk to gall. Bring down a night as black as all the smoke of hell.

Hide me from seeing the wounds my keen knife makes... and allow no pang of conscience... to see through the blanket of the night that might... I hold! Hold! This castle lies upon such pleasant land. The air is soft and gentle. I shall find a long rest here tonight, my Lord Macbeth. I pray it may be the rest you seek. I have no doubt...

My dear cousin, I owe you much. My loyalty alone pays for whatever I and Banquo have accomplished. God save the king. May I have your majesty's permission to withdraw a moment? We must all soon. The day has been long. If it were done, when tis done, then it were well it were done quickly. If only the assassination were the be-all and end-all.

How to jump the life to come when conscience shall turn the instrument of death back at me. He's here in double trust. First as I am his kinsman and his subject. Then as his host. It is I who should bar the door against his murderer. Not bear the knife myself. And so many virtues of his that will plead like angels against the deep damnation of his taking off.

I have no spur to prick my ambition, which overleaps itself. Who's there? Oh, now, my lady. What news? The king has finished supper. Why have you stayed so long away from the chamber? Has he asked for me? You know he has. We will proceed no further with this plan.

I've won too much esteem to throw it all aside. What of your own esteem? Would you live a coward, letting I dare not wait upon I would like the cat in the old adage? Peace, peace, I dare do all that may become a man. When you broached this venture to me, then you were a man. But suppose we fail. Why, then we fail. But screw your courage to the sticking point, and we will not fail. Listen to me.

Duncan is old and tired and will sleep sound. I will so drug his two bodyguards with wine and wassail that neither sense nor memory will remain with them. While they lie drugged, you and I will finish the unguarded Duncan and his officers shall bear the guilt. Bring forth men, children only. Your undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males.

We shall mark with blood the sleeping guards. And who can question that their stained and drawn daggers have done the deed? Who dares receive it any other way? Torn and grief-stricken as we shall be at our benefactor's death. I am settled. So, away. And make all merry. False face must hide what our false hearts know. Ah!

What is this? Is this a dagger I see before me? It's handled toward my hand. Let me clutch you. Ah, I have you not, but still I see you. And on your blade, great gouts of blood. I know, I know. I see, but cannot touch you. You are only a vision of the mind.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Let no one hear my steps. For fear the very stones beneath my feet will cry out. Murder? Murder most foul. The signal. I go, and it is done. Hear it not, Duncan. For it's a knell that summons you to heaven. The castle sleeps, save for Macbeth and his lady.

From the chamber she comes, a finger poised to her lips for silence. She nods to Macbeth that all is as planned. He nods in return, and drawing his dagger silently, pushes aside the tapestry and enters the king's chamber. I shall return shortly with Act Two. Act Two

The night seems suspended in a vacuum, while a driven Lady Macbeth paces her chamber in the silent castle, waiting for her husband to carry out the bloody murder which, without her purpose and drive, he might have shrunk from. There is a brooding and unnatural quiet, and the seconds seem endless to the waiting woman. Oh!

The drink which lulled the watching guard to sleep has served to make me bold. What quenched them has set me on fire. What's that? Nothing but an owl shrieking. Had Duncan not resembled my father as he slept, I would have done it myself. He's coming. Well, my husband... I have done the deed. Did you not hear a noise? Only the owl's scream. And it...

It was you who spoke. When? Now. Is that a sin? Yes. This is a sorry sight. What? Look at my hands. One of the bodyguards cried out in his sleep, God bless us, and the other, amen. Why could I not say amen? I had the most need of blessing, but it's stuck in my throat. You must not dwell on what is done. It could make us mad. I...

I thought I heard a voice cry, sleep no more. Macbeth has murdered sleep. Innocent sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care. The death of each day's life. The bomb of hurt minds has murdered sleep. Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead can bring no harm. I hope he's bled enough that I can smear them well, for it must seem their guilt. Sleep no more.

Sleep no more. All the great oceans of the world wash this blood clean from my hands. No, no, no. These hands are rather all the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red, bloody red. Now my hands are of your color, but I would be ashamed to wear a coward's heart of white.

What's that knocking? It's a south gate. The porter will attend to it. Then let's retire to our chamber. A little water will wash away the blood. You see how easy it is. Remember who you are. Knowing that deed that I have done, I do not want to know myself. Wake Duncan with your knocking then. I wish before God you could.

Has my knocking disturbed your master, Porter? I see it has. Good morrow, uncle. Good morrow, nephew Malcolm. I'm sorry you could not sup with us last night. My loss, noble Macbeth. Is my father stirring yet? I doubt it, I doubt it. I'll make the most of family ties and wake him by myself. Good morrow, good Banquo. And to you, young Malcolm. Macbeth.

What brings him here at this ungodly hour? Oh, some business with his father, the king. It's of a piece with all the night. It was an unruly one with too much wine to sleep on well. Aye, it was a rough night. That's young Malcolm. What's amiss? I cannot guess. My uncle. My good man, go and give me your arms. Steady, boy. My father. My father.

You mean His Majesty? Impossible. What is afoot? Are we attacked? Far worse, Macduff. My father has been murdered. I'll not believe it. Stay you with the boy while I find out what's happened. Duncan dead? How? He's stabbed to the heart. Attend the boy. Ring the alarm bell.

Seal up the castle. Murder and treason. Ring the bell. Gentlemen, what hideous noise is this to wake the sleepers of the house? Oh, gentle lady, it is not for you to hear my answer. Let it come from a closer member to the house, Lady Macbeth. The king is dead. In his sleep. But he was so full of life and laughter only last night. If I had only died in battle before this came to happen, I would have been blessed. Macbeth.

My husband, whose blood is on your hands. I can answer that. Brave Macbeth has taken swift revenge. As I came to the chamber, in a welter of blood, alive and unharmed, and fast asleep, lay the king's two guards.

I, in a fury that I now repent, I slew them both. Why did you so fast? The revenge was mine by... Oh, dear Malcolm, who can be wise, amazed, temperate, furious, loyal and neutral in a moment? No, man. Duncan lay on his bed, his white skin spattered with his lifeblood, and in my love, my anger outran reason. Oh, Hansel!

Look to the Lady Macduff. First let us learn to control our grief. Then, when we can talk calmer, let us meet and question this most muddy piece of work. No, no, no. Let me attend my wife. And once I see her safely settled, I will take hold of myself and put on my manly readiness and meet with you in the Great Hall. Fair enough. If any is fair at all. So let it be.

What will you do, Macduff? What do you mean? I will not stay to share their show of sorrow. I'll flee to England. You realize your flight can make you scapegoat for the deed. You think I'd kill my own father? You stand in succession to the crown. Alive I do. You think my uncle would have less compunction about removing me than he had my father? No, thank you. I will not take the chance...

nor will I be dainty about leaving. Farewell, farewell, gentlemen, if gentlemen you be instead of traitors do. What do you think, Banquo? I was not there to see. And you, Macduff? Sometimes the young are quick to sense a changing tide. I do not know. And yet I feel Macbeth will be king. I was too close to Duncan to enjoy Macbeth's full regard as you do, Banquo.

I'll take discretion for the better part of valor and absent myself a while. It seems this is a time for swift goodbyes. That I, Macbeth, with this my pledge here on the sacred stone of Schoon, do humbly accept the crown and the honor my liegemen thus bestow in naming me their king. The End

So now, Macbeth, you have it all. Just as the weird sisters promised. And even I, your friend, must fear you want it by the most foul of means. And yet the sisters said that I would father a line of kings. Though never be king myself. How can I read this? I must study it a while. And meanwhile, follow in your train to Inverness. Inverness

Ladies and gentlemen, way for the king and his royal consort. Tonight, we hold a solemn feast, dear friend. May I request your presence? Let your highness command me. Command, Banquo? Not from friend to friend. Then I come both as my duty and my pleasure.

As soon as I return. You're riding this afternoon. I must. A pity. I'd hoped for your good advice at the council table, but that can wait for tomorrow if you fail not our feast tonight. My lord, fear not. Does your son ride with you? Playance, yes. On to horse with you then, and ride swift and safe. Till we shall meet again. I think that that must be never. What said, my lord? I spoke of Banquo. I fear him. Hmm.

"'So do I.' "'A king overshadowed by a subject?' "'A king, but no father to kings, as the sisters promised him. "'What have I murdered? Gracious Duncan destroyed my honour, "'peace of mind, my nightly rest, all to put his seed upon the throne.' "'And must you suffer this?' "'There is a man I told you of who hates Banquo.' "'For what cause?' "'Some fancy one, for he was sure to blame.'

A hanged dog, cutthroat, drunken, brawling thief whom Banquo turned out of home and hearth. Use him! Aye, so I will. See to it that our consul is seated and bid the attendant send in this man to me. I will obey you in all things. Obey or lead me to do them. The End

It is understood, then. Yes, my liege. You understand, I could with barefaced power sweep him from my sight, yet I must not, because of certain friends that are both his and mine. So I draw on your assistance to mask this from the common eye. I shall perform, we shall perform as you command. So, with all understood, leave me now, but it must be tonight. As sure as the sun will set.

The sun will set. Banquo, your soul's flight. If it bind heaven, must find it out tonight. Sire, the deed is done. There's blood upon your face. If so, it's Banquo's where I cut his throat. He was mine. And the sun? Sire, my friend failed me. He lies in the ditch with Banquo gaping from his many wounds. But the boy, the boy. He escaped.

I would. I could have tended to them both. No doubt you did your best. We'll talk again. Go. Yes. Yes, my liege. Bank or dead, the serpent gone. But the worm is fled to wet his serpent fangs for some future wound. Well, well, well. No teeth for the present. My royal lord, we need you here to give the toast. From thence to the source and meet his ceremony. Forgive my lapse. Affairs of state.

Now they must stand aside for mirth and laughter and the festive board. First, as my sweet conscience has reminded me, the toast. Let good digestion wait on appetite and health on both. Darling! But not his friends. What? My lord, why are you staring at that empty chair? What empty chair? The one that's held for Banquo.

And he is here. There's no one there. And worse, his ghost is waiting there.

All blood. All blood. And calling me down to join him in the tomb. Around the table, the other guests are unaware of the delirium that racks their king. In quiet desperation, Lady Macbeth tries to hold her husband from disintegrating at the vision which stares across the table at him. His closest friend Banquo.

Bleeding freely from a dozen wounds, his eyes fixed and haunting on the man who lulled him to his violent death, a ghastly specter at the feast. I shall return shortly with Act Three. Act Three

As Macbeth stares, riveted at the bleeding ghost of his friend Banquo across the table from him, slowly the awful vision fades.

until the chair is empty again. Meanwhile, the guests at this festive board, gathered to celebrate the accession of their new king, have slowly, most of them, become aware of their host's strange disorder. Now, as we return to the feast from which the specter has left, Lady Macbeth tries quickly to reassure her husband.

Are you a man? A bold one that can look on what might well appall the devil. To look on what? Where he sits. Kind of man. This is the imagined dagger you drew in air which you sniveled and led you to dunk in shame. Such actions could become a woman's story at a winter's fire. You look on nothing but an empty chair. It's true. It's true. It's all imagining. My

My lord, your noble friends are being overlooked. I do forget. I do forget. Don't be concerned, I pray you. I have this sometime infirmity which is nothing to those that know me. Come, give me a goblet and we shall drink to our good friend Banquo. Word that he were here to fill that vacant chair. Doth murder sleep? Shall sleep no more. No! Quit my sight!

Must you break up the meeting, displace the murder? Blood has been shed before now. Time was when brains were out, a man would die and make an end, but now he rises again. Begone! Begone, horrible shadow, unreal mockery. Do not haunt me. My lord is not himself tonight. Too worn with cares of state, I beg you, go at once to all good night. Stand not upon the order

order of your going.

My lord, why keep these thoughts? What should have died, what's done is done. Oh, no, my lady, we have scotched the snake, not killed it. Banquo is in his grave. All is safe at last. All is safe? While Banquo's son lives to steal the throne from our children? While Macduff plans to join dead Duncan's son Malcolm to raise armies against us in England? I thought you sent for him in fight. Oh, I did, but has he come? No.

I'll send for him again. But by the Lord, if he has fled or plans to, I'll have his castle seized and put them all to the sword. Wife, babes, and every unfortunate soul that traces him in his line. Meanwhile, before I sleep tonight, I'll ride to the moors and find those sisters to forecast me better times. I must have peace. Peace at any price. Ah!

Bubble, bubble, soil and trouble, fire, burn and cauldron bubble. By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes. At last I find you. Secret midnight hags, I conjure you by that which you profess to know. However you come by the knowledge, answer to what I ask you.

We know the thought. Hear your answer. Macbeth, Macbeth, beware Macbeth.

You read my fear right, but... Be bloody bold and resolute. Scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. I've made assurance double. Sure, Macduff should by now have been put to the sword. But still, uneasy thoughts possess me. Put them by. Macbeth shall never be vanquished until... Great Bode to hide on Sinane Hill.

shall come against him. And that shall be never. Who can move the forest? Bid the tree tear out his earthbound roots. Macbeth shall live his life fuller. But yet to snuff out false Macduffs I'll not forget.

Macduff, what brought you here to England? I hear you think to raise an army to invade our unhappy land. What you want to know, believe. Your judgment is your own. This tyrant Macbeth, whose name alone blisters our tongues, was once thought honest.

You have loved him and he hasn't touched you yet. I am not treacherous. Ah, but Macbeth is. Your castle was surprised at the order of Macbeth. Your wife and all within savagely slaughtered. Children too? Wife, children, servants, all that could be found. A civil heavens. Oh, my pretty one, did you say? Hell kite all!

Spute it like a man. I shall do so, but first I must feel it as a man. Let it be the whetstone of your sword to strike your anger into glowing sparks. Oh, I could play the woman with my eyes and wail my sorrow with my tongue. But not for now. For now, bring me this fiend of Scotland front to front within the length of my sword.

What is it, Seymour? Your Majesty, forgive me. While you have been in the field with preparations for the English invasion, I have tried to keep all safe at home.

But your poor lady... My lady, yes? Though closely in the doctor's care, her gentlewomen have reported to me disturbing signs... Well, Spinkman, speak. That they have seen her rise nightly from her bed, clad only in her gown, and taking paper from her closet, write, fold it, write again, read it, seal it, return to bed, and all the while fast asleep. Hush, my liege may see for himself, for here she comes. Her eyes are open. Look closely.

You will see that their sense is shut. Ah, look how she rubs her hands. For often at least a quarter by the hour. Here's a spot still. Out, damned spot. Out, I say. Fie, my lord, fie. A soldier unafraid. What need have we to fear anything no one can call us to account? We are too powerful to be questioned. Be it who would have thought the old man would have had so much blood in him?

Marked you that, my lord? Be still. Will these hands never be clean? Carry the smell of blood still? Sweet, forgiving God. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this. Oh, no, no. She cannot, should not bear the cross as heavy as I do. Wash your hands. Put on your nightgown. Inquo is buried. He cannot rise from his grave. To bed. To bed.

Come, come, come. Give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone. To bed. We should follow her. If you will, Your Majesty, but her gentle women await to see her back there safely. And God forgive us all.

Are there no doctors to minister to her, to cleanse her of the poison that weighs so perilously on her heart? The doctors say, as we must know, my liege, that where the mind is poisoned, the patient must minister to herself. Give me no more reports. Let them fly to the winds. They are less than an old hag's gossip till Burnham Wood shall come to Dunsinane. And that even the English cannot accomplish. What I should cower before this boy Malcolm, Duncan's son? Was he still not born of woman?

I'll scour these English from our Scottish land. I will not be afraid of Bain till Burnham Forest come to Dunsinane. What wood is this before us? The wood of Burnham. Where we can gather an army unseen and prepare our attack on Macbeth's castle. But how to come across the valley in between? I have a thought.

Suppose each soldier should hew down a bow and then, holding it before him, advance slowly so that the castle under siege could not be sure of our numbers or where the main attack lay. By, of all men, you may have fixed the course that will undo Macbeth. Hang the nose on the castle walls. The cry is still they come. But our castle's strength will lay a siege to scorn. What is that cry?

I had thought I had forgotten a taste of fear, that I had supped full of horrors and nothing else could make me start. Who cried out? Seymour! Yes, Macbeth? What was that cry? The Queen, my lord, is dead. Ah! Ah! No! No! Ah, she should not have died now. But when there was time to mourn her, what's left for me?

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in his petty pace from day to day, and all our yesterdays only served to light fools the dusty way to death. Out, brief candle, life's but a walking shadow, no more than an actor who struts and fretches hour upon stage, and with the curtain down is heard no more. Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, but...

Signifying nothing. Now, Seymour, what is it? That I should have to bring this knowledge. Speak out, man. Though you may doubt my wit, sir, as I stood watch upon the turrets, I and others with me could swear that looking out to Burnham, the wood began to move. Liar! Enslaved! I would to God I were. If you speak false, I'll hang you alive on the next tree. But still I will take no chance. Ring the alarm bell! Ring out! Ring!

Let all prepare for siege! Blow in comrade! At least we'll die with harness on our back! Drop the bows! To the attack! It's really over now! On to the show with the tyrant Macbeth!

They have thrown down their cover, my lord, and are at full attack. I'm tied with stake. I cannot fly, or I must fight the course. Because I am safe. Who can I fear, since what man is not born of woman? Who called me? Master Doctor!

Turn, hellhound, turn! Of all the men I have tried to avoid thee. Get back from me. I have too much blood of your family on my hands already. I have no words for you. My voice is in my sword, you bloody villain. No, listen for your own sake. Cross not swords with me. I bear a charmed life. No man can harm me. A woman born can fear for your life. Traitor, murderer, villain. You have no charm to save you. Macduff was not...

not born of woman. Forth I was from my mother's womb untimely ripped, so yield you coward. I will not yield to you or Malcolm or be baited by the rabble's curse. Though Burnham Wood has come to dunce a name and you make claim you are not born of woman, yet will I try to the last. Before my body I bear my shield. Lay on Macduff.

And damned be he who first tries...

The rest, of course, is history. Whether by prophecy and the voice of the fates, or in the chance of battle, Macbeth was slain. A bloody corpse to lie beside the ones he made himself, and the still small body of his fierce and tender lady, who died not in blood, but from those hands from which she could not wash the blood of Regicide away.

That is the story of Macbeth. There is a footnote to this drama. Within the body of our story, all the forecasts of those strange three sisters who haunted the barren Scottish moors came true. Save only one, which history had to wait to document.

From the family of the murdered Banquo, eight kings ruled Scotland in succession, as foretold, while the royal family of Macbeth began and died in that one wicked, misled, tortured, tragic king. Our cast included Kevin McCarthy, Carol Tytel, William Redfield, Court Benson, and Russell Horton. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown.

And now, a preview of our next tale. Beneath the cloaks that shielded them when I brought them here, each man has a dagger like this. I have no personal spite against him, and yet... And yet, he will be crowned king. It's his ambition that we destroy, not the man himself. Before the serpent's egg is hatched, it must be crushed. Come, brothers, let's go.

I think we know our cause. Is it Caesar alone who is to die? Your Mark Antony is too close to Caesar. If he outlives him, he's shrewd enough to bring us down. Let them fall together. This is no bloodbath, Cassius. Cut off the head, but we will not hack at the limbs. We kill Caesar boldly, not in anger. Carve him as a dish fit for the gods. A sacrifice. Let us be remembered as purgers, not murderers.

Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by Allied Van Lines. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre. Until next time, pleasant dreams.

My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress from my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this t-shirt is kind of fading. My name is Arnold Bogarty, and prior to me enrolling in Rasmussen to become a nurse, I spent 16 years in the military, 12 in special forces as an Army Green Beret, and I was recommended to Rasmussen by a former student. She said she loved the culture. It was a family atmosphere. I went to visit the campus. The facilities were amazing. I knew before I left that that was the school that I was going to attend. Rasmussen University. Nursing programs from pre-licensure to doctoral, online and on campus.

Programs vary by campus. Learn more at rasmussen.edu slash illinois. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But, well, the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress from my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I gotta admit, this t-shirt is kind of fading.

My name is Tuba Nguyen, and enrolling at Rasmussen University was essentially a handshake to a lifeline, a career, stability, and a future for myself. I found it important to be able to speak with instructors and staff outside of office hours, and to have that support system was essential because they believed in me. Rasmussen University. Are you ready to rewrite your story online and on campus? Learn more at rasmussen.edu.

Ironized Yeast presents Lights Out Everybody. It is later thing. This is Arch Ovler. Tonight the makers of Ironized Yeast bring you a story not of imaginary terrors. No, ladies and gentlemen, tonight's play will thrill and chill you beyond any power of the supernatural.

because this story is based on cruel, grim reality. So tonight we urge you not to avoid this excitement and tension. Rather, we urge you to turn your radios up and listen as you've never did before. Herr Himmler!

Heil Hitler. Well, mein Führer, I have the report. Now look here, Herr Hitler, it's no use getting so red in the face. That won't help anything. What's happened, happened. And as long as we know why it happened, I'll see to it it won't happen again. So nothing is lost and something is gained. Now here, I have the report here. Derived by Curie only five minutes ago. I rushed it right up. Didn't even stop to read it myself.

Ah, so. I will read. "Official report on the Renoir incident as made by Captain Hans Mauchlich to Major Heinrich von Traperitz, commanding officer, Third Division Army of Occupation at headquarters Paris. Heil Hitler. I, Hans Mauchlich, captain, member of elite guard assigned to Third Division Army Occupation, being in my right mind and in full realization of the consequences to me, make the following statement.

On the day of April 7th, at 2 o'clock in the morning, Sergeant Carl Fishel, while on patrol duty in the town of Renoir, was shot at by an unidentified woman and slightly wounded in the left thigh. In accordance with orders... I had once placed the entire population of Renoir under arrest, and in accordance with further orders received, collected 50 female hostages to be hanged in the village square unless the criminal who had shot Sergeant Fishel was turned over to me at once.

These French women were placed in the basement of the town hall, and precisely at sundown, having assembled the populace in the public square, I mounted the scaffold platform which had been erected there and spoke to this village of criminals. Attention! Attention! I warn you, no disturbances, or I will give the order to fire. Now, for the last time, who among you is guilty of this crime? Speak! So, very well. The next time, every man and woman in this town will be deported for hard labor in the Reich.

This time, we will proceed with the executions. Silence! Sergeant, the first prisoner. At this point in my report, may I explain that the 50 women to be executed had been picked at random by squads sent through the town a few hours before. I personally knew none of them, but I personally counted them as they entered the place of imprisonment, and I personally posted the guard. That I know. The first prisoner, wind her hands up to the platform.

Noose around her neck. So. Tighten the rope. Place her on the trapdoor. So. The prisoner will lift her head. Lift your head. Look at me. At this point in the report, may I describe the prisoner? Sex, female. Age, indeterminate. Clothes, indeterminate. She lifted her face as ordered. Then a strange thing happened. She smiled. Yes, smiled. You smiled? Why do you smile? Very well, the trapdoor. Hang her. Look.

Her captain? Well, her neck is broken. Do not cut her down yet. People of the town of Renoir, the first of your women hangs here. The first evidence that to harm a soldier of the Holy Reich means death. Certain death. Remove the body. Bring out the next prisoner. At this point in my report, may I explain my plan? To hang was not enough. No. These Frenchmen and their women and their children must learn their lesson in a way they would never forget. One by one, the women would be brought out.

One by one they would stand on the platform. One by one the rope around the neck, the trapdoor, the body twisting and turning in death. Coming through that door, climbing then to the scaffold and dying. Fifty of them. And it would take hours. And these Frenchmen and these Frenchwomen and their children would never forget this lesson. Bring her here over the trapdoor. Rope around her neck. No, no, do not bind this one. It is better that they out there see her dance at the end of the rope. The other die too quickly.

ready yes captain the prisoner will lift her face lift your face your face you are related to the one who just died answer me many people of renoir you see before you the second of you who is to die for the crime against the reich this one i can see is related to the first a sister perhaps it will not save her the crime must be avenged you laugh hang her captain

Her neck is broken. Broken? So small a woman? Why should... Sergeant, they dropped too far. Shorten the rope. Let them struggle before they die. The next prisoner... At this point in my report, may I state that all day it had been threatening rain. In spite of that fact, I had not felt it good psychology to postpone the executions. At this point, the time was 4.30, and the sky was getting quite dark, but I was determined to complete the executions. By the time the next woman stood on the scaffold...

It was very dark. People of Renoir, the third criminal to die for the crime against the Reich. The crime must be avenged. You laugh too? You're going to die? Why do you laugh? You will know. Hang her!

At this point in my report, I will state that this woman did not die easily. I could tell that from the faces of the people and the animal cries that came to their lips as they watched this woman of theirs flinging about at the end of the rope. I was quite pleased. Silence, silence! Well, people of Renoir, she thought she would not die. You see, she is dead. There is no escape from the vengeance of the Reich. Bring up the next one. Stop that drum! Yes, people of Renoir.

There is no escape from the power of the Third Reich. Today over all Europe, tomorrow over all the world. What power is there to stop us? All right, bring the prisoner up here, quickly. At this point in my report, may I say it was darker than before. Clouds. There was a feeling of an electrical storm in the air. Hurry her up, there. Hurry her up. Sergeant, turn on the floodlights. Let no one move. Shoot down anyone who tries to leave the square.

Do not think the storm will make any difference. Here you are and here all of you will stay until the last one of your criminals is hanged. All right, all right, soldier, do not stand there. The noose, put it around her neck. No! Soldier, are you out of your mind? Why do you stand there? What is it? Look at her. Look at her. At this point in my report, I wish to state that I am not sure if I am in my right mind completely now. But at the time I am speaking of, I knew exactly what I was hearing and seeing.

Captain, look at her. I tell you, look at her. You? I... Sergeant. Sergeant. Yes, Captain. The bodies, are they down there? Yes, Captain. How many? Answer me, how many? Three. Three? Three. So, you, woman, you think you'll make jokes with me? You are of the same family. Yes, that is it. You are of the same... At this point in my report, I will state only that I immediately ordered the next prisoner up to the scaffold.

Captain, this one, the same? You crazy fool, how can that be? Here, the searchlight, here. No, you are not. How can that be? Sergeant, how many now? The truth, tell me the truth. Four, four, Captain. The truth, I order you. Four bodies, I swear it, Captain. And their faces, look at their faces. Answer me, their faces. All the same, Captain, the same.

Ladies and gentlemen, let's take a moment now to look around to reassure ourselves that we are where we are in the free America of today where thousands of people are able to say... Man, oh man, am I going good. Making more money than I ever did. Sure, taxes are tough and I'm putting my 10% in war bonds, but even so, I've got plenty left to spend for fun. To spend for fun?

You think our fighting men in Africa are having fun? Was it fun for our boys at Guadalcanal fighting off the Japs from foxholes? Being shot down in flames over Berlin, is that fun? Why, no, but like I said, I'm putting my 10% in war bonds. This is no 10% war, my friend. Our servicemen are fighting at 100%. And that's exactly why the news from Africa is good. Why we won at Guadalcanal. Why we're moving toward the offensive on other fronts.

Do you want more American victories? Do you want our men to march into Berlin at the earliest possible moment? Why, yes, of course. Then back them up as they are fighting for us. One hundred percent. Put that money you've got for fun into more war bonds. War is expensive. And if we hold back here on the home front, we'll needlessly prolong the war, thus throwing away thousands of American lives.

Are dollars for fun more precious than the lives of American fighting men? Of your fighting man? You know they're not. And remember, friends, the quicker the victory, the fewer lives lost. And if we want victory sooner, every American of us must do more. So go to your nearest bank or post office, wherever war bonds are sold in your town, and put every cent you don't really need into bonds. Do it for your own sake and for the sake of our fighting men.

They give their lives. We must lend our money. At this point in my report, I say only that it began to rain. A terrible rain. And we stood there in the rain. The people all around the scaffold. My soldiers. And on the platform, the hangman and I. And the woman. All the same. You hang for vengeance, don't you, Nazi?

One German soldier shot at by a French woman who had the blessed right to kill him. Do you think you will have the vengeance with 50? Laugh. It's always the same. Shall I tell you about vengeance, Captain? You Germans think you know all about it. But let me tell you of the real vengeance. At this point in my report, I will tell you of my thoughts. These women, the same, was not possible. I left the scaffold and went below to where the bodies lay.

With my flashlight, I looked. Broken necks. Faces quite the same. I shut off the light. I climbed back to the scaffold. I was not disturbed, because now I understood. The families of these French were large, and all these were sisters. Five sisters. Yes, trying to frighten me. Well, that was ended with their broken necks. I ordered out the next woman for her execution.

People of Renoir, there will be no further demonstrations of any sort. You will stand there in the rain until all your women criminals are dead. Five sisters have died, and I am certain that is the end of that family. And who is this frightened one with her hands in front of her face? All right, keep them there. Corporal, get the new noose around her neck. Hang her quickly. What? Her face. Another one. You French such families. Worthy of we Germans. But we have men, and you give birth to useless women.

Six women, and all of them born to be hanged. Shall I tell you about vengeance, Nazi? What? You Germans think you know all about it, but let me tell you of the real vengeance. Captain, the other one said those words. Shut your mouth. You, woman, how do you know the words your sister said? I said them. How could you? You think you know about vengeance, you Germans. Well, you don't.

Vengeance too has to be based on truth. And what is your vengeance? You began a war once and lost it. To whom did you lose it? To these little people? To that little rabbi whose back you broke in a concentration camp? To that little child who suffocated under her mother's body in Poland? At this point in my report, I state only that I made sure this one hanged until she was dead. And then I waited a little while before I ordered the next one out. The rain was very heavy.

All the people stood there in the square below the scaffold, heads bowed to the rain. And in the light of the searchlights, they and the soldiers guarding them were like living dead standing there unburied.

Captain, this one, she is the same. Maya, bring her up here. No. You hanged her. She's not dead. Not dead? Who is he? Run for your lives. Run. Run. Bring her up here. She is not the same. She can't be the same one. Turn the searchlights on. The same one? Run. Run. Stand where you are. Men, open fire. Shoot them down. Sergeant Coppola, where are you running? Stand, soldiers. Do not run. I order you. The lights. Why did you turn out the searchlights? Turn them on. I order you to turn them on.

My soldiers. Gone. Are you frightened, Captain? Put the rope around my neck. You are not sane. I saw you hang. Put the noose around my neck. The bodies. I can see them down there. Hang me. You want your vengeance. Fifty times the rope must stretch. Fifty bodies piled like cordwood. And you call that vengeance? Shall I tell you of vengeance, Nazi?

The vengeance of the people of the murdered republics. What was their crime? They wanted freedom from poverty. And your battleships stood off their shores and your airplanes filled their skies and gave them blood to drink. Their own. The vengeance of the people of Poland. What was their crime? They wanted to live, just to live. So the treads of your tanks ground them into the dirt and then your bombs lifted them out of the dirt.

The vengeance of the people of Belgium whose crime was that they were weary of a battle they did not quite understand because you had given them confusion. And so you stripped them of human dignity and made them slaves to live on bloody knees before the masters of your Reich. The vengeance of Holland. Oh, that will be a horrible vengeance, Nazi. For their crime was the crime of being men, of standing up and saying, this is our land and this is our freedom. Dare take them promise. So you swept over them.

And when they could no longer fight, you took your vengeance by the murder of 40,000 of them. And the vengeance of Great Britain. Oh, that will be a terrible vengeance, Nazi. It will be a vengeance that will... Oh, I will hang you. Rope around your neck, mouth. At this point in my report, I swear by the grave of my mother I tell the truth. I hanged this woman with my own hands. I made sure that she was dead. And then I reached down and cut the rope. I heard the body fall below in the dark.

But when I got up off my knees and stood up on the scaffold again, another woman was there, and it was she. The vengeance of Norway. Theirs too was the crime of free men content to live on their own land. And you put a swastika over their crosses and murdered their sons and starved their children. And the vengeance of the Balkans. So many vengeances, Nazi. Did you ever think of them?

You with your little vengeances against the helpless, the women, the children. Did you ever think of this moving mountain of great vengeance that is sweeping toward you? The vengeance of the Russians, whose crime was that they wanted their own freedom, their own way, and who saw the hard work of 20 years ground under your ponsors and your stukas. Oh, Nazi, theirs will be a terrible vengeance. Theirs will be... And then there was another one, another, but the same one.

And a vengeance of the Americans. Their crime, that they were strong and they didn't like you and they laughed at you. And then their laughter turned to anger and you were afraid of their anger, so you lifted another one's hand and gave them the treachery of a knife thrust in the back. And you drowned their men in the seas and you... I can report only what I saw. The trapdoor fell. She too was gone. The rope twisting and turning...

And I was alone on the scaffold. Alone. I was alone. Yes, the rope twisting and turning. And I was alone. And then, who shall I swear this on? What do I believe in to swear this on? I heard footsteps coming up the steps to the scaffold. And I ran to the edge, and I looked. The lightning flashes were quick, one after the other. And by them I saw that I had hanged eight, and there were forty-two left.

And now they were coming up the stairs, these 42. One after the other. One after the other. In a line that reached back across the square. Coming to me. Who are you? What do you want? I report this. They came on the platform, one after the other. One after the other. The scaffold moved under the weight of them. And then the lightning came again. And I saw all of them. All of them.

Poland, Belgium, Holland, Norway, Greece, Yugoslavia, Russia, Britain, America. I tell you, Nazi, no matter what the clever ones try to do at the peace tables, the people will not forget their vengeance. They will not forget their dead children and their dead wives and their dead sons and their dead mothers and their dead sisters and their dead lovers and their dead hopes and their dead wasted years.

They will not stop at the borders of your Germany this time. They will march into it, into your Germany, the people, and their vengeance will be on every one of you who traded the cross for a swastika and the great God of humanity for the little man who thought he was God. Who are you? I report only this one last thing. As I ask the words, who are you, suddenly it was no longer all these women speaking with one mouth,

But in the rain and the lightning, I saw them moving together. And all of them began to become one woman. A terrible thing grew into the air. I lifted my face to see. The lightning crashed about the top of her. And it was still that woman, towering higher and higher into the air. And when she spoke, her voice was the thunder. Listen to me, Nazi.

When that vengeance comes, you shall not hide behind your little man. For his crimes are his crimes and your crimes are yours. And each must pay for his crimes. Who are you? For the good people of this world will not die this time in vain. This time the vengeance will be their vengeance. And the everlasting peace their peace. Who are you? I report, I ask that. And suddenly I was lifted in the air...

There was thunder and lightning around me too. And up where I was, her voice was a whisper. I am a French woman who stayed away from my own land too long. So long that some of my countrymen had forgotten that even the memory of me lives only where men fight for me. Ah, you. I closed my report. This French woman told me her name and she told me a place. Through the thunder crash I heard her.

and then the lightning struck and i was falling through the air and when i woke it was morning and she was not there and the scaffold was burned to the ground and there were no bodies and the village square was empty this is the end of my report

Can you imagine such a report, mein Fuhrer? A woman who grows into the sky. Of course, the man will be shot. Wait a minute. There seems to be an addition to the report. It says, note, the French woman said she could be found at latitude 41 degrees north and at longitude 74 degrees west.

Investigation indicates this is a place in the Western Hemisphere known as Bedloe's Island. Further investigation indicates that there is only one French woman on this island. She is called the Statue of Liberty? I see what you mean, Mr. Obler. The Nazis can kill people, but they can never kill the spirit of victory. Yes, we've seen that proved over and over again in this war.

We know how men, women and children in France and Holland and Norway and every other country that's come under the Nazi heel are fighting back in every way possible. But we know equally well that the will to win is not enough. You can't fight the Japs or the Nazis with courage alone. The only way to fight these murderers effectively is in the language of bombs and bullets. Are we in the home front who sleep in our comfortable beds and eat good meals in spite of shortages? We're being asked only to send our money to back up those who are fighting for our freedom.

If a Nazi isn't outside your door waiting to take you off to a concentration camp because you prayed to your God on Sunday, or if a Jap isn't waiting with an executioner's sword stained with the blood of an American aviator to cut off your head, it's only because all over the world men and women of courage are fighting your battle. So the next time you take out a dollar and think, "Oh, what can I buy now?" Think again. Is there anything I want more than I want a world of peace and justice and security of loved ones back home again?

And then do what your heart and mind tell you you must do. Put every dollar and dime you don't need for actual necessities into this fight by putting them into war bonds and stamps. This may be our last chance to buy the right to live as free men. Thank you, Mr. Obler. Friends, the makers of ironized yeast have been very happy to dedicate tonight's program to our government's second war loan drive. And now, Mr. Obler, can you tell us a little about next week's story?

Well, before I do that, I'd like to personally thank the Iron Eyes Geese folks for giving me the opportunity of presenting this play to you tonight. A word of thanks, too, to Edgar Barrier and Mercedes McCambridge, and to Hans Connery and Lou Merrill. As to next week, well, if you've ever wished on a star, listen in. For the play has the provocative title of The Heavenly Jeep.

To you lovers of the off-the-beat, a cordial invitation to be with us when the Heavenly Jeep takes off. Yes, tune in next Tuesday again for Arch Obler's eerie story, The Heavenly Jeep. And if you need more vitamin B1 and iron, be sure to try ironized yeast. But remember, there's only one ironized yeast. You'll know it instantly by the yellow and orange package and by the big letters IY on the container and on each tablet. It's later than you.

Down south, it's white shoe season, and even up north, you're beginning to see white shoes around town. And because of shoe rationing, lots of folks are giving their white shoes the best of care with Energene Shoe White. Energene Shoe White is made with the whitest pigment obtainable. It spreads over shoes easily and dries evenly with a real white, never a dingy off-white. So, to keep white shoes looking better longer, buy Energene Shoe White.

This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But, well, the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

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That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen, and Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

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Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum, the refreshing, delicious treat that gives you chewing enjoyment, presents for your listening enjoyment, the Line Up! Ladies and gentlemen, we take you now behind the scenes of a police headquarters in the great American city, where under the cold, glaring lights will pass before us the innocent, the vagrant, the thief, the murderer.

This is the lineup. We can take any one of these seats, Damon. All right.

You think you found the man, Lieutenant? That's hard to say. We picked up a couple of men who were seen in that area. One of them knows Dr. Simpson. Who is he? I want you to identify him. Tell me if he's the same man you saw walking up and down in front of the house. Oh, I hope you got him. Dr. Simpson was such a fine man. I'm sure he was. I worked for him for 15 years. I don't think he had an enemy in the world. He must have had one. Somebody killed him. May I have your attention, please?

You people out there on the other side of the wire in the audience room, may I have your attention, please? Thank you. My name is Greb, Sergeant Matt Greb. I'll explain the letter. For refreshment while you work, for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. The delicious, long-lasting real mint flavor of Wrigley's Spearmint cools your mouth and freshens your taste.

The good smooth chewing helps keep you feeling fresh and alert. Adds enjoyment to whatever you're doing. So indoors, outdoors, at work or at play, enjoy chewing Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. Wrigley's Spearmint. Refreshing. Delicious. We now return you to Sergeant Matt Greb and the lineup. Thank you for the number. I'll call up a number, then name and charge me.

If you have any questions or identification, please remember the number assigned to the prisoner as I call his name. At the end of each line when I ask for questions or identifications, call out the number. If you're sure or not too sure of the suspect, have him held. The officers who took your name will assist you there seated among you. Please be prompt with your questions or identifications. When the prisoners leave here, they are sent to the washroom and dressed back into their jail clothes. It makes it quite difficult to bring them back after they leave here.

The questions I ask these suspects are merely to get an actual tone of voice, so do not pay too much attention to their answers as they often lie. Bring on the line. All right, keep it moving, boys. Right over here to the end of the stage. That's it. Now turn and face front, hands to your sides. Now when I call you, step out and talk up so everybody in the room can hear you. Okay, number one, Robert Mochler, Robbery.

Quitting at Roberts. 1745 10th. What's your business? Well, quite a bit. Who do you work for? I'm not working. I used to work for Acme. Do you have a car? I don't own one. Did you use a car on the job? Yeah.

Well, what kind? Henry J. No one. Where'd you get it? Used car lot, so let me take it out for a demonstration. Job only took me 20 minutes. I had the car back in 30. What color was it? Light green. Good car. I'm thinking about getting one. Fred, you'll have to wait a few years. Yeah. All right, number two. Yusup Leho. Assault. Where do you live, Yusup? I didn't mean to hit him. He's my friend. Tell the people where you live, Yusup. First Avenue, 6650, 414 with my wife.

She tell you I didn't mean to hit him. Where do you work? Steel mill. Open house. He job for strong man. You had a fight in the bar. Yeah, but first one in three weeks, Sergeant. You broke a man's jaw in three places. Yeah, I hit him. But he was my friend. What'd you hit him with? Hit him with...

My hand I hit him with. What do you think? My feet. Well, if he was your friend, why... You're sure he's my friend, but we got drunk a little. That seems to be a habit with you. Just after work. What's the matter with that, Sergeant? A couple of drinks after work. The drinks we don't care about is the broken jar that makes us a little unhappy. It ain't yours. Could have been. I could have been in that bar. I gonna hit you? I don't even know you. Why I gonna hit you? All right, all right, Houston.

Number three, Thomas Wilson, drunk and disorderly. Where do you live, Tom? Hotel, some joint on Fifth Street. I don't know the name, just moved in yesterday. It says here you live at 409 West Adams. I lived there the day before yesterday, moved out. Why? My wife, she made too much noise.

Your wife says you hit her? Big deal. Sure, I belted her. You should have to listen to the racket she makes. You beat her up pretty bad. Ah, she just got sore because I moved out. Four years, the same sloppy kimono. Hair up and curly. Always up and curly. Looks like she just landed in a saucer. Hey!

Were you drinking? I always drink when I'm home. Yap, yap all the time. I gotta get oil so I don't hear it. And she hides the bottle, I gotta tear the joint apart. And she yaps. So I build it. Big deal. All right. Number four, Everett Sweezy, loitering in suspicion. Where do you live, Everett? Lieutenant. Yeah, is that the man? Yeah, that's him. That's the man that was in front of the house. Sergeant Graham. Yes, Lieutenant. Hall number four for interrogation. ♪♪

You hungry? A little. Well, when we finish with this guy, let's get some dinner. Sure. Hi, Matt. Hello, Quint. Get a load of that tie, Ben. What's the matter with it? Are you kidding? Easter's a long way off, pal. I think it's very colorful. Ah, come on.

How's Sweeney? Just like his name sounds. Funny little guy. Reminds me of a rabbit. Well, I want to have a talk with him. And will you need me? No. Why not, Ben? That tie would scare Rasputin into a confession. Well, that's funny. Go get yourself some dinner. Thanks.

Hello, Mr. Sweezy. Hello, Lieutenant. Sergeant. Why am I here? You think I've done something? We just want to ask you a few questions. I was just out walking and a policeman arrested me. Why did I get arrested? I haven't done anything. Do you always take walks at four o'clock in the morning? I like to think. I take walks and I can think. I'm...

All alone and walking helps. It's peaceful early in the morning. You do it often? Oh, yes. There's nothing the matter with that. What's wrong with that? Do you know a Dr. Simpson? Hmm? Dr. Simpson. Do you know him? A Dr. Simpson? No, I don't know him. He was the doctor who operated on your wife. My wife? She's dead? Yes.

We're sorry. I live with my sister now. I couldn't live in the house anymore. Jeanette's dress is hanging in the closet. Dr. Simpson? Yes. You were arrested five blocks away from the doctor's house. I don't know. But he operated on your wife. My wife's dead. Could I have a glass of water? Sure, man. Sure. I don't feel very well. I haven't been well for a long time. And what's been the trouble?

Headaches. My stomach's been upset, too. Haven't been able to sleep. I don't know. I guess I'm sick. There you are. Thank you. Is it a clean glass? Well, sure it is. So many germs. I'm very careful. I have so many colds. Thank you. Water tastes funny. If you haven't been feeling so well, Mr. Sweezy, why don't you go to see a doctor? Oh, thank you.

I'm sorry. It's okay. I'll clean it up. You're liable to cut yourself. Be careful. It's okay. I'm terribly sorry. Don't worry about it. Mr. Swayze, Dr. Simpson was killed this morning around 3.30. I feel just terrible. I'm sorry.

Couldn't I lie down for a while, please? I've got a bad headache. I'll just dump this in the window. You can lie down as soon as we finish talking to you. But I don't know anything. I haven't done anything. Dr. Simpson's servant saw you hanging around the neighborhood yesterday afternoon. I don't know where I was yesterday afternoon. I went walking. Dr. Simpson was killed in his car in front of his house at 3.30 the next morning. I've got such a bad headache. Could I have another drink, please?

No glass. The doctor was shot through the head with a .32 caliber automatic. I'm just too tired to talk anymore. I feel so bad. My back aches. Well, why don't you tell us about it? Then you can sleep. I can't tell you anything.

I just want to lie down for a while. I'll be all right then, and you can talk to me. Look, Dr. Simpson operated on your wife. You were at the hospital. We checked. I'm going to be sick. Catch him. I guess he really is sick. Hello, Santa. Yeah? Everett's sister, Miss Sweezy. Okay. Go right in, Miss Sweezy.

How do you do, Miss Sweetie? Hello. Sit down, please. This is Sergeant Grant. How do you do? How is Everett? He's in the infirmary. I said he was sick. Why was he arrested, Lieutenant? Suspicion. What does that mean? Did you know Dr. Simpson? Yes. Yes, I knew him. When Sergeant Quine talked to you this afternoon, you said that Dr. Simpson operated on your brother's wife. Yes. Mr. Quine said Dr. Simpson had been killed.

Is that why you arrested Everett? My brother was seen loitering in front of the doctor's house. Everett takes walks. Yes, we know that. He was probably just walking. Well, tell us something about your brother. Well, there's nothing much to tell. He's always been sensitive. He paints.

He's never really been well since he was a child, but he's a gentle person. You don't think he'd kill anyone? Of course not. He was very fond of his wife? Oh, yes, yes. They'd been married for some time.

He really hasn't been the same since she died. She died of cancer, didn't she? Yes. Oh, it was a terrible thing. Everett suffered almost as much as she did. And then when she died, well, almost too much. And he moved in with you? Yes. He put his house up for sale. Or rather, I should say, I did. Everett just wouldn't think about it. Did he ever say anything about Dr. Simpson? Say what? Well, maybe that he...

He might have felt that the doctor was responsible for his wife's death. Oh, no, no. No, most certainly not. Everett wouldn't do anything. Lieutenant, can I see you? Excuse me. Yes, certainly. And what is it? Everett Sweezy. He just tried to hang himself. Everett Sweezy

Think he can talk to us? No, I think so, but you've got yourself a problem. Oh, what do you mean? He needs mental therapy. Well, that was obvious right after we picked him up. Now, I'm not a psychiatrist, but I say it was very definitely paranoia. If he did kill someone, I don't think he was responsible. Well, we have to find out if he did at first. Then what? That's a good question. Hi, Ben. Hi. Any statement? No, hasn't said two words. Everett?

Everett. Lieutenant Guthrie wants to talk to you. No, I'm too tired. Everett. I don't want him in here.

He means Quine. He wants to write down what I say. I don't want him in here. Quine? Okay. I don't want him listening outside, writing down what I say. If I go to sleep, I might say things. What things, Everett? I don't want him listening. Well, he's not. He's gone. I want the doctor. Where's the doctor? Right here.

I don't feel good. I'm sick. Give me something that will make me sleep. Certainly. What's the matter with me? I've got such bad headaches. I ache all over. You'll be all right, Everett. Doctor. Yes, I'm coming. There. You'll sleep now. Thank you. Lieutenant. Yeah? I don't care now.

It doesn't really make any difference. What doesn't? That I killed Dr. Simpson. I killed him. He killed Jeanette and I killed him. Oh, I feel so terrible. I'm glad I'm going to sleep now.

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Ben. Morning. Hi. Did you get some sleep? You know it, like I was dead. Oh, me too. They moved Everett this morning, County Hospital. Psychiatric ward? Yeah, about an hour ago.

I'm glad that's over with. Yeah. Well, I'll have some breakfast and make out a report. Need it, Holmes? Just coffee. Molly had to take the kids to the park, some kind of a carnival or something. Sunday school's throwing it out. Hey, Eddie. Hey. How about two in the water, four minutes, and some sausages? Right, man. Double it, Eddie. Double it. And will you give me some coffee now? Right, man. A cigarette? Thanks. No, I smoked enough last night to give the city a smog problem. Hi, Quine. Have some coffee? Well, he changed the tower. I hate to do it, boys. Oh.

Now, look. This is too hot. We haven't even had our coffee. Find us in a half an hour. It's Everett Sweezy. Yeah, what about him? They were just taking him into the county hospital. He slugged the guard. Got away. I wonder who thinks up the names for streets. You're one of the strangest things sometimes. What's that number again? 224. It's the next block.

You think Everett just came home and went to bed? I doubt if he's that far off his rocker. Poor sister sounded scared to death on the phone. Everybody's scared of cops. I can't understand it. I'm such a nice fellow, really. All the lights are out. Maybe she's watching television. Let's try the bank.

There's a light in there. See anything? Fine way to treat your sister. Come on. Locked. Better bust a window. All right. Give me a boost. Come on. I'll untie her. You take a look around. Right. I'll have you loose in a minute, Miss Squeezy. Yeah. Yeah.

There we are. Don't try to talk just yet. Just let me get your arms and legs free. He's gone mad. You've got to help him, please. Here, let me help you up. All right. All right, sit here. Now, Miss Weezy, where's your brother? I don't know. I don't know. He was here when you called, but I couldn't tell you. He was like a ghost.

Now, just tell us what happened. He was here when you called. He was standing right over me with a gun. I was...

Did he say where he was going? I'd have told you he was here, but I was so frightened. He was standing right beside me with a gun. That's why he came here, to get his son. Now, please, do you know where he went? Yes, yes, I'm trying to tell you. He went to kill Dr. Hanley. That's why he came, for the gun. I wanted to tell you on the phone. Well, who's Dr. Hanley? What's his first name? His first name is John. John Hanley. He said he was going to kill him. Get on the phone. Where's your phone? In the hall.

Call Dr. John Hanley. Tell him not to leave the house. Get the address and tell him we'll be right there. Right. Oh, please, don't leave me. What if he comes back?

do if he comes back? He won't come back, Miss Weezy. Now, please, try to calm down. I'll send one of our men over to stay with you. I've seen it coming ever since Jeanette died. I could hear him crying. Did Dr. Hanley take care of Everett's wife? Oh, he did everything he could for Jeanette. He took care of her the best he could. I tried to tell Everett when he came for the gun. Well, we'll stop him, Miss Weezy. Now, please, please take... Oh, Dr. Hanley's a fine doctor. He's taken care of her.

He's taken care of me for years. The doctor's out on a call. Ben, his wife said that we'd better get going. But I'm alone here. And if they took my car, he might come back. What do I do if he comes back? There'll be a policeman here in five minutes. And now, look, don't worry. We'll stop Everett before he does any more harm. Oh, yes. Please. But don't hurt him. Try not to hurt him. Please. Please.

Yes? We're the police, Mrs. Hanley. You're the police? Why, I... Oh, come in, won't you? Thank you. Have you been able to locate your husband? Why, yes. I just told one of your men where to find him. You did what? Please tell me what's wrong. This is all very disturbing. Mrs. Hanley, we're the ones who called you. But a man came to the door just a few minutes ago. Did he say he was from the police? Well, I just assumed that...

Well, that is, I asked him if he was the officer that called, and he said yes. What did he look like? Oh, he was small and slender. That's every hour. Where's your husband, Mrs. Hanley? He's making a call on Arden Road, 1456 Arden. Do you know the phone number there? Well, they have no phone. You've got to tell me. Is John in trouble? Who was that man? Well, it's nothing serious, Mrs. Hanley. We're just checking on the next patient of the doctor's. Oh, I see. Thank you.

But who was the man who came here? The ex-patient. Come on, Matt, let's go. KQRA from 13J. KQRA. Code 5 at 1456 Arden Road. Suspect armed and dangerous. KQRA, roger. I wish I felt lucky at the time. The timing's off, Matt. Yeah, yeah.

How much further? A few blocks. You know, doctors sure lead a rough life. Molly's uncle's a doctor. Poor guy never gets any rest. We go over there for dinner once in a while, and he's never made it through his dessert yet. Always gets called away. I don't know how he keeps going. Got a cigarette? Yeah. I'll light it. Here. You know, it's nice having a doctor in the family. When Molly was sick last year, her uncle took care of her. Didn't cost me a nickel. Except for the medicine.

Now, here we are. All relaxed, will you?

Yes, fine. Glad you're here. Oh, this is a pip. We're already on our way here when we got your call. Please, you gotta do something. You gotta get him out of there. This is Mr. Stafford. He put in a call for us. That guy in there is crazy. Says he's gonna kill the doc. You gotta get him out of there. He's got a gun. My kid is awful sick and that lunatic in there is with a gun. Now, take it easy, Mr. Stafford. What happened? Well, my kid took sick tonight and I called Dr. Hanley. A few minutes after he got here, this crazy guy comes to the door and says he's looking for the doc. I...

I told him the doc was with my kid, so he pulled out a gun and goes on in. I ran to the corner gas station and called the cops. I see. Well, now, is there anyone else in the house? Well, no, there's just my kid and me. Get that guy out of there, will you? Which room is it? That one there on the ground floor where the light is. All right, now, you stay out here, Mr. Stafford. We'll get him out. Come on, then. You think we'd better go in? This guy's lighter. Keep it quiet. Okay.

Everett. Please, listen to Regan. Now, that's very ill. I've got to get him to a hospital. What for, Dr. Henley? So you can let him die? Oh, please, Everett. Try to understand. How come you're so anxious to make people live, doctor? How come you care whether he lives or not? I wasn't responsible for Jeanette's death, Everett, any more than Dr. Simpson was.

There was nothing any of us could do. You must believe me. You told me you could save her. Dr. Simpson said the operation would save her. Why did you let her die? Why did you tell me you wouldn't let her die? Oh, Everett, please. I'll try to explain to you about your wife. I'll try to make you see that there was no way to save her. But don't let this boy die.

Let me take him to the hospital. Then you and I can talk. I don't want to talk about Jeanette anymore. I don't want to see her face anymore. I don't want to hate you anymore. I'm going to kill you, doctor. Jeanette wants me to kill you. What do we do? All right. See if there's another door in the West Room. Maybe from the room down the hall. Give me just a few minutes. Okay. But don't do anything wrong to him. Be sure you do the right thing. Mm-hmm.

Go ahead, help him. I'll need my bag. Where are you going, doctor? You're not leaving here. It's right here on the chair. Yes. What have you got in that needle? There's another way in. The bathroom connects this bedroom and the other one. What's the matter with him? You go around through the bathroom. Count ten from the time you leave here, then open the door and cover me. His condition is very acute. Now, now. One, one. Give him the shot. One.

I'm not going to wait much longer. Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Drop it, Everett. Thank the Lord. Call an ambulance, man. Let's get him to the hospital. He's on the third floor, Ben. 312. Okay. Did Gerson do the operation? Yeah. Yeah.

Said we didn't get him here any too soon. Floor, please. Three, please. He was on the table for two hours. Yeah? Well, if he pulls through this, it'll be one for the books. If Dr. Hanley hadn't been there, he wouldn't have had a prayer. Third floor. I hope he's conscious. Yeah. Wonder what he'll have to say.

Yes? That policeman, is he awake? Yes, but he's not too strong. We'll only be a minute. Hello, Everett. Hello, Lieutenant. Tell me, please, am I going to live? Did you talk to the doctor? You've got a good chance. The doctor did a good job. Is this the same hospital?

Jeanette was in. I don't know, Everett. Find out for me, will you? I have to know. I'm scared. Okay, I'll find out. If it is the same, I don't want to stay here. Now, look, you better not talk anymore. Lieutenant, how's the kid? The little boy, is he still sick? No, no, he's fine, Everett. The doctor removed his appendix and he's going to be fine. I'm glad.

I didn't want him to die. But, Lieutenant, come closer, please. Yes, Sergeant. He still may die. If Dr. Hanley takes care of him, you mustn't let Dr. Hanley take care of him. Dr. Hanley killed my wife, you know.

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For refreshment while you work, for enjoyment any time, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. The lineup, where before you pass the innocent, the vagrant, the thief, the murderer. Listen again next week when the makers of Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum again bring you The Lineup.

May I have your attention, please? You people out there on the other side of the wire in the audience room, may I have your attention, please? Thank you. My name is Greb, Sergeant Matt Greb. I'll explain the lineup to you. Each of the suspects you will see will be numbered. I'll call off a number, then name and charge. If you have any questions or identifications, please remember the number assigned to the prisoner as I call his name. At the end of each line, when I ask for questions or identifications, call out the number.

If you're sure or not too sure of the suspect, have him held. The lineup starring Bill Johnstone as Lieutenant Ben Guthrie and Wally Bayer as Sergeant Matt Greb was written by Charles E. Israel and edited by Blake Edwards and Richard Quine with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Featured in tonight's cast were Parley Bayer, I. Everback, Jane Avello, Peter Leeds, Junius Matthews, Virginia Gregg, Jean Bates, and Mary Jane Croft.

The lineup is produced and directed by Jaime Del Valle. Bob Stevenson speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition.

Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience — burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important. At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life. So eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge.

With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.

Now, with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Promise to Pay. It started over a bottle of port at five o'clock in the afternoon when Mama Nodella, a proud old lady who ran a restaurant...

Bet me I couldn't prepare a dish of chicken cacciatore. I never pass up a bet. So at 5.30, I picked up a can of chicken, and at 6, had gone to work on it. At a quarter after 7, everything was ready for the pan, and my enthusiasm was at a high ebb until the telephone rang. And what I thought was a check call from Mama Nodella turned out instead to be Garfield Randall. He was a used-to-be client who at 32 was currently setting the L.A. business world on its ears.

Say, Harlow, did you see the article about me in this morning's paper? Young Randall, probably next head of Continental Land and Trust? Yes, that's it. Chairman of the board, isn't it, Gar? Yes. Job I've been after for two years. So? Well, it's a job that'll go to somebody else at noon tomorrow, Phil. Unless you can get me out of a nasty mess I'm in. What's her name? Terry D...

How did you know it was a woman, Phil? It's a trade secret. What do you want me to do? Well, come over here to my place, 91 Laurel Canyon, immediately. I'll explain then. You can make it, can't you, Phil? I mean, now, right away? Yeah, yeah, I guess so. Right away, Gar. But it hurts. Arrivederci, cacciatore. Oh, come in, Marlowe. Quickly.

I'm due there at eight, and it's almost that now. Small point, Gar, but just where is there? Oh, where? Terry Dodge's cottage over in the valley, 3840 Sunswet Drive, just beyond Arthur Murray's place on Ventura. I'm expected because the lady wants $20,000 to keep her mouth shut. About what? The fact that a few days ago, an innocent evening with some new friends ended up with me gambling and losing $1,000 at Paul Naylor's club on Lancashire Boulevard, also in the valley 3100 North.

I didn't have the cash on me, so he took my I.O.U. Your marker would interest who in particular? Only the entire board of directors of Continental Land and Trust. They feel their executive should be above that sort of thing, even once in a while. Mm-hmm. And this Terry Dodge, can she prove that you lost a thousand gambling? Well, according to this message here, yes. Came a few minutes before I called you, together with my picture, which she returned, frame and all. Here. Oh.

God, dear, I gave Naylor the thousand and pick up your note as requested. But now I'm confused. Do I give it back to you or submit it to your board of directors tomorrow? Oh, by the way, the chinchilla we saw last week is on sale. I hear only $20,000 is bought right away. Probably cost more tomorrow. See what I mean? Yeah, yeah. Drop around and see me at 8 tonight, will you? I'd like your advice on the matter. Much love, Terry. P.S. Don't worry about the safety of the note, darling. I have the perfect hiding place for it.

Mmm. Tender, huh? Tell me, Gar, how close were you in this vampire? Oh, we went together for about a year, but it was getting cold. Because you've been on the way up? Because she's been on the way down, Marla. Why'd you give her the money to deliver in the first place? Well, you see, Phil, I couldn't afford to go near a gambler like Paul Naylor once I'd been nominated for the chairmanship. Of course, I didn't suspect for a minute that Terry would do anything like this.

So when I didn't hear from Terry by six, I called Naylor. He told me that she had already delivered the money, but he also told me that she'd burned the note in front of him at his suggestion. Which might mean that Terry Dodge is just bluffing, you know. Yes, or that Paul Naylor is just lying. Your job, Phil, is to find out the truth as soon as possible. And if I do and the note does exist, what then, Guy? Then I pay. I have to. It's my whole future. Yeah.

Call you in an hour, Gar, from the valley. After Randall generously settled a matter of my fee with two crisp $100 bills, I got into my car and wound through Laurel Canyon into the San Fernando Valley in Sunswept Drive, where I parked away from number 3840, which was the kind of all-alone green-and-white, ivy-choked cottage that life insurance ads wonder if you'll own when you're 65 and out of work. With one exception.

The place was lit up like opening night at a Hollywood delicatessen. And when I got close to the front door, which was half open and splashing bright yellow over the mat marked welcome, I heard a radio from someplace deep inside playing slow, sad swing. When I knocked twice and got only more Dixieland for an answer, I walked in, calling Terry Dodge's name out loud as I moved through the empty living room. I couldn't tell why, but even as I said the name, I had the uncomfortable feeling that I was wasting my breath.

And a minute later, when I entered the bedroom, I was sure of it. Because there, every drawer, closet, and cubbyhole had been turned inside out. And in the middle of all that, and face up on the carpet, was the still form of a beautiful blonde woman in a black silk hostess gown. The monogram in white over her breast pocket said she was Terry Dodge. The ugly circle of dark red on the side of her head said she was dead. Next to her body, I found the pieces of two airline tickets for Mexico City. Beyond that, the brass candelabra that had killed her.

I dropped the tickets into my pocket and then went back to the living room and the telephone called my client. But when I reached for it, it went off. Hello? Hello, Ted. Who is this? Friend of the family. Why? Well, I'm curious by nature, friend of the family. Now, is Terry there? Yeah. She can't come to the phone right now. Any message? Yeah, there is. Tell her Rip Stranigan wants to talk to you if you don't mind. I don't. Oh, Terry. Terry?

It's Rip Stranigan. What? Okay. Sorry, Stranigan. She'll have to call you back in a minute and... And what? And excuse me, but an unexpected visitor just dropped in. A beautiful one at that. With a gun. Which she knows how to use very well. The lady was tall with dark eyes and darker hair. It framed her face the color of warm honey and she was wearing something white and plunging.

Which, from the waist up, had all the material in it as the average necktie. Who are you? Rip Stranigan. Mean anything? Only that you're a liar. I've seen Stranigan, and in the first place, Terry's boyfriend's an ex-football player about twice your size. Oh? Also, he's from Texas, and you couldn't be. No. And just between us, you're much better looking. So, once more, who are you? Little boy blue. Who are you? Me?

Well, I'm Annabelle, Terry's sister. Always come home with a .38 in your hand? Well, I only used this gun, Mr. Blue, because I thought you were a problem. Oh, with the radio off so you can concentrate, how about the truth? All right. I'm a private detective named Philip Marlowe. Came here to talk to Terry Dodge. When I found the door open and nobody home, I decided to wait. Now I can't wait any longer because I'm late for an appointment.

So if you'll tell Terry I call, I'll appreciate it. Good night, Annabelle. Wait a minute before you go, one thing. What's that? You were wrong about being little boy blue. Oh? You're prettier. Good night. My ego sent me. The lady went for me. But my professional cynicism labeled her local Mata Hari and suggested that I keep both feet on the ground. So when I was out of her sight at the front door, I tried the oldest trick in the book, which was opening it and then slamming it hard from the inside, which worked.

because when I quietly moved back to where we'd been standing, she was already in the bedroom. And I was glad to hear surprised at what she'd found there. When she ran back into the living room, her face now the color of wet ashes, grabbed for the telephone and dialed a number that was more than the three digits that would bring the police. Hello? I was close enough to hear what she said. This is Maxine. She's dead. Yes, in her bedroom. And the place has been turned upside down. So somebody else is after that note, too. No. No, only a private detective named Marlowe.

Well, he didn't act like it. Said he was waiting for her. I'll tell you all about it later when I see... What? Keep looking. Listen, maybe you didn't understand me. Terry Dodge is dead. She's been murdered. Well, Maxine Rossi doesn't want to be standing around with jam on her face when the police arrive. It's hard on the reputation. Well...

All right, one more look around, but believe me, it'll be a fast one. Goodbye. When she hung up and inched back toward the bedroom like it was a snake pit, I headed for the door and kept going until I was outside and over to where I'd left my car parked in the shadow of a huddle of dwarf palms. But then as I was about to get in, what I thought was just another tree reached out with both hands, grabbed me by the lapels, and slammed me hard against the side of my own car. Before I could get back onto my feet, what had to be the X-Grid iron grate from Texas had both my gun and my wallet out and...

I was smiling with more teeth than I'd ever seen before. Well, the friend of the family is a private detective, I see. Yeah, and the athlete's a scholar. He reads. Shut up, Marlowe. Smart aleck talk won't get you out of this. Now, what were you doing in my girl's apartment? Looking for a blackmailer named Terry Dodge. And before you get all worked up muscles, make up your mind. You want the truth or hot air out of me? You got a lot of nerve, fella. Doesn't answer the question. All right.

I'll take the truth. But if it's anything but that, I'll break you in two. Now start talking. Why'd you call Terry a blackmailer? Because until tonight she was up to a mascara and a deal that called for a man named Garfield Randall to pay her 20,000 bucks to keep his future intact. I don't believe you. I never heard her speak that name. Proves the point, Stranigan. They've been going together off and on for a year now. What? Why, just last night Terry told me that she didn't even want to see any other man. And as of last night, that might have been the truth.

Because a few hours ago, this Randall got his framed picture back from her with interest. The demand for the $20,000? The same. Stranigan, what would you say if I told you Terry Dodge has been murdered? No. No, Marlowe. You're lying. Stranigan, let go of my throat. Lying. Let go of your head. Let go. Let go. I'm sorry, fella. Do you have any idea who did it? Yeah. Yeah, but this...

There's still a little groundwork to be done before I go to the police. You mean nobody knows about this yet? Outside of a girl named Maxine Rossi, someone she talked to on the telephone and the murderer? No. Now tell me, Stranigan, did you... Did you hear Terry speak of either this Rossi girl or a gambling note that a guy named Paul Naylor held? No. No, I didn't, Marlowe. But where do those two fit in? That Stranigan comes under the heading of groundwork. Now, if you can keep all this under your sombrero until you hear from me again, I'll take my gun and wallet and get going. What do you say?

I say yes. On one condition, Marlowe. When you do get to the killer, I'll get first crack at him. Fair enough. Now, where can I reach you? 4812 North Ogden Drive. You think you'll need any help? I don't know. Paul Naylor's my next stop, and according to the talk downtown, he's a hard man to get next to. I'll call you later. The club Paul Naylor ran out on North Lancashire didn't have a name, but the numbers 3100 were taped with luminous scotch light. Easy to find.

However, unless you knew the man behind the peephole, you were nowhere. So 20 minutes later, when I was out of my car and walking toward the steel-plated back door, I decided that getting in to see the head man of the house had to be approached like that was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I stayed in the shadows of the building, moved a slow step at a time, until I saw a little oily man in a pink shirt, white knit tie, and fuzzy black fedora nearby notice me. Then I moved faster until I was at the steel door, and so was he.

with a .45 in his hand. Lost something, mister? Uh, no. I was, uh... What's the gun for? Trespassers. These are private grounds. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I'll leave right away. I thought this was... Never mind what you thought. Now get over there. Stand very still while I make a phone call to the inside. Phone call? What for? Cops? No, stupid. The gentleman who lives here, Mr. Paul Naylor, I think he'd like to talk to you while you can still talk. ♪♪

In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlowe. But first, a man who knows something about cars makes a better driver than a man who's completely blank about what's underneath the hood. And in the same way, a man who knows something about our American economic system is able to be a better citizen than a man who hasn't any idea at all about what makes the wheels go around.

Understanding our system of mass production enables one to feel renewed pride in the high standard of living this kind of production has helped provide. And it's understanding, too, that enables us to work at some of our system's defects, like sharp ups and downs in prices and jobs. So read, study, listen. And with all of us working together, we can increase our productivity still further and provide for even wider distribution of benefits. ♪

Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe and tonight's story, The Promise to Pay. The oily little man in the pink silk shirt spoke briefly into the phone, then breathed garlic in my face while his free hand dotted neatly inside my jacket. I came out at 38 with it, then he jerked me around, unlocked the heavy back door, shoved me through and marched me on the business end of his 45 down a strip of blue carpet ankle deep.

To another door of glossy, blonde mahogany. He slammed me face first up against it and then signaled for an audience. When the door swung open, he prodded me. I stumbled into an office of jungle green drapes and pale beige furniture upholstered in leopard skin. The face that peered at me over eight feet of desktop smiled from the ears down.

From the years up, I'd never known what smiling meant. We have a front door for our friends. I know. That's why I went to the back. I figured I'd pick up an escort there and bypass all that muscular red tape you keep out in front. Maybe that's smart figuring, maybe not. Depends. What do you want? Call you a liar, Naylor. Mind your manners, stupid. You're way out of line. You're building up quite an account, Oily. You take some long chances, mister. What's your name? Marlowe.

I still want to know why you lied to a friend of mine about burning his marker. Marlowe, huh? Wait outside, Quincy. I'll call you. Okay, Mr. Miller. All right, Marlowe. So you're Randall's boy, right? I've talked to him. When Randall called you, you told him that his girl, Terry Dodge, had delivered the money okay, but...

That you saw her burn his marker. That's what I thought I saw at the time. What'd you really see? She put the marker in her purse and started out of here. But I called her back and told her to burn it. Why? Because I don't like my name floating around, Marlowe. Especially now, with things tightened up like they are. So she went over to the fireplace there and burned a piece of paper. But it wasn't the note, huh? Right boy.

That call from Randall gave me ideas. I checked the pieces left in the fireplace, and they weren't even the same kind of paper as the marker. So somebody's shooting an angle, Marlowe. One with my name on it. I don't like that. I suppose you got the marker back all right. Not yet, however I intend to. But on your first try, you got too rough too fast. And killed Terry before she'd talk, is that it? You know, if I were you, I'd bite my tongue off before I'd say a thing like that. Even joking. Who's joking?

Girl's been murdered your way. Smart people die every day. Lots of ways. Yes. Well, thanks for the information. Good night. Sit down. Wait a minute, Naylor. The interview's over. Not quite. What's Randall steamed up about? Blackmail. Which puts you both in the same boat. If I get the market to protect him, I have to protect you at the same time for an extra charge. Let's be sensible. Sensible? Okay. Quincy?

Yeah, Mr. Naylor? I'm going out. Sit on Marlowe here. Real hard, if necessary. Till I get back. Sure. It'll be a pleasure, won't it, Mr. Marlowe? Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Oily straightened his tie and sat down opposite me, humming to himself. Then he unfolded a racing form, tilted his chair back, and apparently forgot about me. He was a perfect setup for a very old gag, because the two back legs of his chair were perched on the far edge of a green hook rug that I could reach easily. His eyes okayed my request to light a smoke, and then dropped my matches.

I bent down to get them. I grabbed the rug instead and yanked hard. Couldn't resist, could you, sucker? I'm faster than I look. Come on, I should have known. Well, 100%. Now I got an excuse to work you over. Wait a minute, Naylor. Want to talk to me when he gets back, Stooge? You'll be able to talk. Only maybe you won't think so good. Get back there in the corner. Go on, move. That's it. Now turn around and face the wall. He kept the .45 pointed at my middle even while he shifted it to his left hand.

and he dipped his right into the side pocket and brought it out, clenched around an ugly set of brass nooks. It was a tight knot in the pit of my stomach as he started towing me. I just made up my mind to try for his gun regardless when I heard it. When I turned and looked, Oily was sprawled face down on the floor and sprinkled with chunks of shattered crockery and standing over him like a victorious gladiator.

was Maxine Rossi. Marlo, I came as soon as I found out you were in here. He is so vicious, this Quincy. Not at the moment, baby, thanks to you. But I don't get it. There's no time for talk now. Come to the roulette table as soon as you can. Hurry, darling. I watched her slip through a side door. Then rolled Quincy over, got my gun back in its holster, and all of seven seconds later went out through the same side door. It opened into a lush room, 50 by 50, checkerboarded with people bunched around evenly spaced gaming tables.

I moved toward the click of a roulette wheel and found Maxine there throwing blue chips around. With a subtle recklessness that meant she had a fortune to squander or that she was a shill for Naylor. How's your luck, baby? Still holding? Uh-huh. It is so far. But it may change any instant now. Yeah, well, I guess it's my turn then. Come on, I'll pick up some chips. Ten black.

Marla, we gotta get you out of here. You work for Naylor, don't you, Maxie? Yes, but not like I'd work for you, Marla. Oh?

He sent you up to Terry Dodge's place tonight. Find out what you wanted with that marker. And it was Naylor you called when you found Terry's body, huh? Yeah. He just left Mahler not a minute ago. 50-00. Where was he heading? I don't know. But one of those scraps of paper that wasn't burned in the fireplace. It was a telephone number for a travel agency. He had that with him. A travel agency? That might be the one shot I need. Listen, Maxie, I...

Uh-oh. The boys have got me pegged. They're moving in. I was afraid of this. Wait till the lights go out, darling, and then run for it. The lights? Baby, I love you. What about you, Massey? Don't worry. My father was a long showman in San Francisco. I don't know how to get him. She walked slowly as far as the back corridor, then started to run, and as the two gorillas angled toward the room, toward me, I pretended to study the odds on the crap table while I edged for the door. They were almost up to me when the room went suddenly black.

Atta girl, Maxie. I ducked low and belted to the front entrance all stops open. And a few seconds later, I was outside. I put 50 yards between me and the front porch before I so much as slowed down. When I did, I saw something else. Paul Naylor himself across the street just getting into his car. I pulled my gun out and ran for him. Hey, Naylor! Marlowe, how did you get... Say, what's going on? I want that phone number you got in your pocket. Phone number? I don't know what you're talking about. That's too bad because I don't have time to explain it.

It was five minutes and all of five miles later when I stopped at a gas station and climbed into a phone booth to call the travel agency number on a half-burned piece of paper that I'd taken from Paul Naylor. I was sure now that at least I'd get an answer to fit the two airline tickets to Mexico City, but the girl who answered the phone exploded that dream with her opening line. Good evening, Canadian and Northern Railway Agency. It didn't make sense.

On a hunch, I shot a girl with a description of Terry Dodge and hit pay dirt on the first try. A woman who matched it had made a reservation that afternoon to leave for Canada at midnight alone. But then the girl asked me a question. The answer to that made my next stop my client as fast as I could get there. The drive into Laurel Canyon and up the twisting trail they call the road put some new gray in my hair. But before I got to Randall's house, I pulled over, parked, and climbed the rest of the way quietly on foot. A long brown convertible that wasn't Randall squatted under the bushes beside the house.

I crossed the patio and went in through an open window. I could hear voices, so I inched along the back hall to an open study door and listened. Don't try anything cute, buddy, or I'll break you in two, and I mean it. Well, what do you say? Give me the money and I'll give you that marker. Well, I... How do I know you've got the marker? Where did you get it? I killed that double-crossing girlfriend of ours, sweet Miss Terry Dodge, to get it. That's where. What? You...

You... You mean Terry's dead? Yeah. We were pulling this deal together and then going to Mexico. But she got greedy. Was going to get the money and take off for Canada alone. So now I'm doing it alone. Get the dough, Randall. Time's short. Wait, I... I want to see the marker first. Well, sure. Hand me that picture there. That's right, pretty boy. The one Terry sent back to you today. Well, come on. All right. Here. Thanks. Hey, what are you... The marker...

It was behind my picture all the time. Yeah, Terry was real smart. And so was that blabbermouth Marlowe. He tipped me off to the whole thing when he told me Terry sent this back to you today. The marker wasn't anyplace else, so it had to be here. And here it is, Randall. All yours for 20 grand. No. No, I won't pay it. I'd have paid Terry blackmail for that note, but I won't shield or kill it. All right, Randall, have it your way. But I'm walking out that front door, and that means I've got to leave you dead on the floor. Randall, that's... Not this time.

That was awfully close. Never mind that. Come on, let's get him. Oh, you missed him. Yeah, stay here. I'll get him. My car. I left it halfway down the hill. He'll be ten miles away the way he's driving before I can get to it. He's got to be good to drive those roads that fast. Phil, he went over. He was going too fast to get around your car. He went over. Yeah, and if anybody ever had it coming, it was Rep Stranigan. All American. All American.

By the time we got down to the crash, the canyon was swarming with people. An ambulance and two prowl cars wind in, and 30 minutes later, the mess was all cleaned up. The police verdict was speed on a dangerous road, and the doctor's forecast was DOA. So Randall and I went back to his place and spent another 30 minutes over some much-needed brandy while I told him everything that had happened. Great, Scott. And it seemed like such a simple thing, Phil. Pay a gambling debt and get the market. Yeah.

Hard to realize all this happened just because of that. Well, that plus the fact that you let a pair of nasty characters get you in a spot. Yeah. It's also hard to believe that they're both dead now and it's all over. And you, you did a wonderful job, Phil. I had some wonderful help from Miss Maxine Rossi. There's a kid with lots on the ball, believe me. Say, do you think she got away from Naylor all right? With her talent, you can count on it.

But just to play safe, I'm going to let Mr. Naylor know it's hands off or I'll see his joint rip wide open. I'd sure like to help, but I've just sewn my last untamed oat. Yeah, I think so. Well, you're in good shape now. Boys at headquarters are reasonable. I'll run along and tell them what they need to know. Okay. Oh, Phil, just one thing first. When you called the agency, the Canadian Railway, you said the girl there asked you a question and that's why you came up here so fast.

What did she say? Oh, she wanted to know if I was the tall gentleman from Texas with the nice teeth who had inquired earlier about the lady's reservations. And he got all upset, which, of course, could only mean Rip Stranigan. And that explained the tickets from Mexico, the murder of the ransacked house, and all the rest of it. Oh, I see. You know, the more I think about it, Gar, the luckier you get. Good night. Happy board meeting. It was two o'clock in the morning.

And the thought of my kitchen littered with dead chicken, raw rice, and the jumble of spices practically turned my stomach until I opened my apartment door. And then, one step at a time, I got it. The delicious odor of chicken, gacciatore, cooked to perfection. The sight of a gleaming table set in candlelight. The sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle of wine. And all done in a fine Italian hand.

The hand of a long showman's daughter from San Francisco. And then, a startling idea hit me. You know, if Maxine Rossi could only... But she can. You know this is dangerous? Oh, brother...

The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, created by Raymond Chandler, star Gerald Moore, and are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. Script is by Mel Donnelly, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Levitt. Featured in the cast were Bill Johnstone, Betty Lou Gerson, Barney Phillips, John Daner, and Jack Crucian. The special music is by Richard Orant. Be sure to be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says...

When it started, the tide was high on the San Pedro waterfront, and a hot-tempered kid had murder on his mind. But there was a knife at my throat, a beating under the piers, and a corpse on the beach before the tide went out again. And the kid was finally stopped. ♪♪

Just about an hour from now, most of these same CBS network stations will bring you the hour-long Sing It Again program, a CBS Saturday night favorite, and the show with radio's biggest jackpot. Of course, tonight the jackpot's down to only $50,000 because last week somebody guessed the identity of the Phantom Voice. Still...

50,000 isn't hay. 25,000 is invaluable prizes for correctly guessing the new phantom's identity. Then there's an additional 25,000, this time in cold cash, if the phantom guesser can answer just one more question about the phantom. There'll be other prizes, too, for cracking one of the many delightful riddle songs. So be sure to stick around for Sing It Again. This is Roy Rowan speaking.

Now, listen to Gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But, well, the older you get, the more you realize...

Nutrition is kind of important. At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life. So eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But, well, the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. Welcome to the Black Mass. Tonight, two stories about animals. First, here's a gentleman to tell you about a famous patent medicine known as oil of dog by Ambrose Bierce. Ah!

My name is Buffer Bean. I was born of honest parents in one of the humbler walks of life. My father being a manufacturer of dog oil, and my mother having a small studio in the shadow of the village church, where she disposed of unwelcomed babies. In my boyhood, I was trained to the habits of industry.

I not only assisted my father in procuring dogs for his vans, but was frequently employed by my mother to carry away the debris of her work in the studio. In performance of this duty, I sometimes had need of all my natural intelligence, for all the law officers in the vicinity were opposed to my mother's business. They were not elected on an opposition ticket, and the matter had never been made a political issue. It just happened so.

My father's business of making dog oil was naturally less unpopular, though the owners of Missing Dogs sometimes regarded him with suspicion, which was reflected to some extent upon me. My father had as silent partners all the physicians of the town, who seldom wrote a prescription which did not contain what they were pleased to designate as oil of canine. It is really the most valuable medicine ever discovered.

But most persons are unwilling to make personal sacrifices for the afflicted. And it was evident that many of the fattest dogs in town had been forbidden to play with me. A fact which pained my young sensibilities. And at one time came near to driving me to be a pirate. Looking back upon those days, I cannot but regret at times that by indirectly bringing my beloved parents to their death,

I was the author of misfortunes profoundly affecting my future. One evening, while passing my father's oil factory with the body of a foundling from my mother's studio, I saw a constable who seemed to be closely watching my movement. Young as I was, I had learned that a constable's act of whatever apparent character are prompted by the most reprehensible motives.

and I avoided him by dodging into the oilery by a side door which happened to stand ajar. I locked it at once and was alone with my dead. My father had retired for the night. The only light in the place came from the furnace, which glowed a deep rich crimson under one of the vats, casting ruddy reflections on the walls.

Within the cauldron, the oil still rolled in indolent abolition, occasionally pushing to the surface a piece of dog. Seating myself to wait for the constable to go away, I held the naked body of the foundling in my lap and tenderly stroked its short silken hair. Ah, how beautiful it was.

Even at that early age, I was passionately fond of children. And as I looked upon this cherub, I could almost find it in my heart to wish that the small red wound upon its breast, the work of my dear mother, had not been mortal. It had been my custom to throw the babies into the river, which nature had thoughtfully provided for the purpose.

But that night, I did not dare to leave the oilery for fear of the constable. After all, I said to myself, it cannot greatly matter if I put it into this cauldron. My father will never know the bones from that of a puppy. And the few deaths which may result from administering another kind of oil for the incomparable oil of canine are not important in a population which increases so rapidly. In short...

I took the first step in crime and brought myself untold sorrow by casting the baby into the cauldron. The next day, somewhat to my surprise, my father rubbed his hands with satisfaction.

as he reported to my dear mother. Amazing. Simply amazing. What is it, dear? You're absolutely radiant. Tell us what has happened. Astounding. They said they never saw anything like it. Never saw anything like what, my dear Mr. Beans? The oil. This morning's vats produced the finest quality oil that was ever seen.

They all said so. The physicians to whom I showed the samples pronounced it the finest ever. Well, dear, what did you do to improve it so? Don't tell us, for heaven's sake. But that's just it. I have no knowledge whatsoever as to how the result was obtained. The dogs were treated in all respects as usual. They were in fact of a very ordinary breed. Was that not so, Buffer?

A buffer! I deemed it my duty to explain, which I did, though Paul's it would have been my tongue if I could have foreseen the consequence.

Mr. Beans, how very disconcerting that for so long we should have been ignorant of combining our industries. True, true, Mrs. Beans. And we must take immediate measures to repair our error. Certainly so, Mr. Beans, certainly so. First thing, we shall remove my studio to a wing of the factory building. Oh, this very evening, this very evening we shall begin.

Oh, Buffer, dear, what greater joy might a beloved son bring to his beloved parents than an enterprising mind? And my duties in connection with the business ceased. I was no longer required to dispose of the bodies of the small superfluous, and there was no need of alluring dogs to their doom. My father discarded them altogether, though they still had an honorable place in the name of the oils.

So, suddenly thrown into idleness, I might naturally have been expected to become vicious and disillusioned. But I did not. I did not. The holy influence of my dear mother was ever about me to protect me from the temptations which beset you. And my father was a deacon in the church. Ah, alas, that through my fault these estimable persons should have come to so bad an end.

Finding a double profit in her business, my mother now devoted herself to it with a new assiduity. She removed not only superfluous and unwelcome babies to order, but went out into the highways and byways, gathering in children of a larger growth, and even such adults as she could entice. My father, too, enamored of the superior quality of oil produced, purveyed for his vats with diligence and zeal.

The conversion of their neighbors into dog oil became, in short, the one passion of their lives. An absorbing and overwhelming greed took possession of their soul and served them in place of a hope in heaven. So enterprising have they now become that a public meeting was held. And we are resolved, Mr. and Mrs. Bing, that our censuring must needs be severe if your invasions upon the population continue.

We assure you that further raids will be met in a spirit of hostility by one and all. My poor parents left the meeting broken-hearted, and I believe not altogether sane. Anyhow, I deemed it prudent not to enter the oilery with them that night, but slept outside in a stable. About midnight, some mysterious impulse caused me to sneak through an open window into the furnace room.

where I knew my father slept now. The fires were burning as brightly as if the following day's harvest was expected to be abundant. One of the large corvins was slowly walloping with a mysterious appearance of self-restraint, as if it bided its time to put forth its full energy. My father was not in bed. He had risen in his nightclothes and was preparing a noose

In a strong chord. From the looks which he cast at the door of my mother's bedroom, I knew too well the purpose he had in mind. Speechless and motionless with terror, I could do nothing in prevention or warning.

Suddenly, the door of my mother's apartment was opened, noiselessly, and the two confronted each other, both apparently surprised. The lady also was in her nightclothes, and she held in her right hand the tool of her trade, a long, narrow-bladed dagger. For one instant, they looked into each other's blazing eyes.

And then sprang together in indescribable fury. Round and round the room they struggled, the man cursing, the woman shrieking, both fighting like demons. She to strike him with the dagger, he to strangle her with his bare hand. I know not how long I had the unhappiness to observe this disagreeable instance of domestic infelicity. But at last, after a more than usual vigorous struggle,

the combatants suddenly moved apart. My father's breast and my mother's weapon showed evidences of contact.

For another instant, they glared at each other in the most unamiable way. Then, my poor wounded father, feeling the hand of death upon him, leaped forward, unmindful of resistance, grasped my dear mother in his arms, dragged her to the side of the boiling oven, collected all his failing energy, and sprang in with her. In a moment, both had disappeared.

and were adding their oil to that of the committee of citizens who had called the day before with an invitation to the public meeting. Convinced that these unhappy events closed to me every avenue of an honorable career in that town, I removed to the famous city of Atomwee.

where these memoirs are written with a heart full of remorse for a heedless act entailing so dismal a commercial disaster. Oil of Dog by Ambrose Bierce. And now, a story by Saki about two lady horsemen and a hyena. Oil of Dog

They say that all hunting stories are the same, but my hunting story isn't a bit like any you've ever heard. It happened quite a while ago. All the usual crowd were at the meet, especially Constance Broder. Constance is one of those strapping, florid girls that go well with autumn scenery or Christmas decorations in church.

I have a presentiment that something dreadful is going to happen. Am I looking pale? Oh, you're looking nicer than usual. But that's so easy for you, dear. Constance and I were well mounted.

and we had no difficulty in keeping ourselves in the first flight, though it was a fairly stiff run. Towards the finish, however, we must have held rather too independent a line, for we lost the hounds and found ourselves plodding aimlessly along miles from anywhere.

It was fairly exasperating, and my temper was beginning to let itself go by inches when suddenly... There they go at last! What in heaven's name are they hunting? Well, apparently it's not a fox. No mortal fox. It's twice as high. And what an ugly small head. And its neck...

enormous and thick. It's a hyena. That's what it is. It must have escaped from Lord Padham's park. A hyena? Yes, and it's probably tame. Look, the dogs don't know what to do about it.

Oh, dear! They're running off! Behind us hailed our approach with unmistakable relief and demonstrations of friendliness. What are we to do?

It's getting dark. What a person you are for questions, my dear. Well, we can't stay here all night with a hyena. I shouldn't think of staying here all night even without a hyena.

We had better make for that ridge of trees to the right. I imagine the highway is just beyond. I hope it is. What on earth are we to do with the hyenas? What does one generally do with hyenas? Well, I've never had anything to do with one before. Well, neither have I.

If we knew it's six, we might give it a name. Perhaps we might call it Esme. That would do in either case. Esme? Here, Esme. Come along. Come along.

There must be a gypsy encampment nearby. Gypsies? Why do you say that? Just past a baby. A half-naked gypsy brat. What was he doing there? Picking blackberries, obviously. There. Esme has probably frightened it. Esme? Esme? Come along here. Esme! What have you got there?

Esme. Esme! Put down that baby! Esme! Master, forgive me. Baroness. What on earth shall we do?

What are we to do? Constance, I am perfectly certain that at the last judgment you will ask more questions than the examining service. Esme, down. Down, Esme. Can't we do something? Esme? If you don't put that baby down, I'll thrash you with this whip. It's running off with the baby into the bushes. Esme? Esme?

Esme! Horrible! Horrible! Well, Constance, I really don't know what more I can do. We'd best get along. Esme can catch up. Come along.

Do you think the poor little thing suffered much? Well, the indications were all that way, my dear. Ah, we are saved. There's the highway. Where? Up ahead. Didn't you hear the car? There. There. There's another. Ah, here comes Esme. There, Esme. Naughty.

You're a naughty hyena. How can you let that ravening beast trot by your side? Oh, dear. What is it? What is it hanging from his mouth? I can't quite tell, dear. Now, pay attention. There's the road ahead. Don't run ahead, Esme. The cars won't be able to see you at this hour. Esme, hold.

Stay with us. Oh, the silly animal. I don't think we should worry about that beast. No, I dare say he can fend for himself. Oh, Esme, what did I tell you? What did I tell you? Ladies, ladies, is this... Was this your dog? I'm dreadfully sorry. I'm...

You have killed my Esme. I'm so awfully sorry. I keep dogs myself, so I know what you must feel about it. I'll do anything I can in reparation. Anything at all. Please bury him at once. That much I think I may ask of you. Certainly, certainly. At once, madam. William, William. Bring the spade. No, the spade, William.

I saw. What a magnificent fellow. I'm afraid he must have been rather a valuable animal. Well, he took second in the puppy class at Birmingham last year. Don't cry, dear. It was all over in a moment, I'm sure. He couldn't have suffered much. Oh, look here. You simply must let me do something in reparation. I couldn't think of it. Oh, but I insist. No, no, I insist. I couldn't think of it.

But as he persisted, I let him have my address.

Lord Pebble never advertised the loss of his hyena. When a strictly fruit-eating animal strayed from his park a year or two previously, he was called upon to give compensation in eleven cases of sheep-worrying and practically to restock his neighbor's poultry guards. And an escaped hyena would have mounted up to something on the scale of a governmental grant

The gypsies were equally unobtrusive over their missing offspring. I don't suppose in large encampments they really know to a child or two how many they've got. There was a sequel to the adventure, though. I got through the post a charming little diamond brooch with the name Esme set in a sprig of rosemary.

Incidentally, too, I lost the friendship of Constance Brodel. You see, when I sold the brooch, I quite properly refused to give her any share of the proceeds. I pointed out that the Esme part of the affair was my own invention, and the hyena part of it belonged to Lord Pabham, if it really was his hyena.

Of which, of course, I've no proof. That was Esme by Saki. The part of the two ladies was played by Pat Franklin. The motorist was Bernard Mays. The hyena was played by himself.

In Oil of Dog, the first of our two stories this evening, the family was variously performed by your host of the Black Mass, Eric Bauersfeld. The technical production was by John Whiting. And now, good night. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift.

But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important. At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life. So eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life. So eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. There is no danger if you choose the right moment. That golden ray is a signal. Now.

There, you see? Without a flaw. Oh, what sculptor could reproduce that? The Easter lily which Genevieve brought to me this morning from Notre Dame turned to stone. To the purest marble. I know nothing of chemistry, Boris, but...

How? I mean... Oh, don't ask me the reason. It never fails, though. Yesterday, I tried one of Genevieve's goldfish. There it is. The other man looked to where Boris Ivan pointed. The goldfish that once had floated in a glass bowl now lay upon a small antique table, sculptured in marble. The stone was beautifully veined with a faint blue, and from somewhere within came a rosy light, like the tint which slumbers in an opal.

When the Russian-born sculptor had dropped the lily into the basin, the liquid it held had lost its crystalline clearness. For a second, the flower was enveloped in a new white foam, which disappeared, leaving the fluid opalescent. Changing tints of orange and crimson played over the surface, and then what seemed to be a ray of pure sunlight struck through from the bottom, where the lily was resting. It was at that precise moment Boris had plunged a hand into the basin and drawn out,

A marble flower. Biotech's The New Soak and Free Wash Powder presents Beyond Midnight by Michael McKay.

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I don't know why the veins on the heart are tinted, but they always are. And it's quite safe to put your hand into the liquid? At the given moment, yes. Namely, when the ray flashes from the bottom. Almost like a signal. It is a signal. Otherwise, who knows, I might acquire a barber hand. Not so funny.

But why don't I... Oh, Alec, my dear Alec, I can't explain. Where did this ray of the light... Where did it come from? I don't know. It just comes. Where are you, Mercenie, leaving things? Perhaps... Perhaps it is the vital spark of the creature escaping to the source when she came. It's day to lunch. Genevieve will be here very soon. I saw her getting ready, Matt. Beautiful, sweet, fresh.

Like that lily before you destroyed it. Do you think I destroyed it? Destroyed, preserved? How can you tell? Boris. Huh? Will you ad reat me, get to the salon, monsieur? I suppose so. You like it? Magnificent, technically. But after your Madonna last year, the world is going to expect something greater. You like the Madonna. As a model, I could ask for no one in the world as perfect as Genevieve.

Neither of them spoke then for a long time. Perhaps both were dreaming of the woman Genevieve, who had gone to early mass. Certainly both were in love with her. The colony of artists flourished and was proud of Boris Ivan. His father was French and his mother was Russian. Perhaps Alex being in love with the beautiful Genevieve had something to do with the affection that existed between the two men. An affection that was never acknowledged. But after it was all settled and she had told him that it was Boris whom she loved,

Alec had gone to the big sculptor and congratulated him. Who's Alec? Alec!

What? Oh, so... What do you think of my discovery? I think it's wonderful. I shall make no use of it, you know, beyond satisfying my own curiosity, so far as may be. And the secret will die. I investigated and I stumbled on a solution which attacked the object immersed with a ferocity unheard of. And in a second did the work of years

I'm almost frightened when I think what I've found. Scientists would go mad over the discovery. So simple, too. It discovered itself. When I think of that formula and that entirely new elements...

What new elements? Oh, I haven't thought of naming it. And I don't believe I ever shall. Now, I love precious metals in the world now to cut faults over. Have you struck gold, Boris? Oh, no. Better. But see here, Alec. You and I have all we need in the world already. Oh, how sinister and covetous you look already. I'd better change the subject. I'm devoured by the desire for gold.

Genevieve, how lovely to see you. Alex, Boris, you must ask Alex to stay for lunch. I did? And you said yes, I hope. Je vais bien le honneur, madame. Oh, she's... I've got to go home, don't you think? She seems sort of dispirited. If I know. I mean, if she's upset about something, I don't want to hang about. Yes, well... Lunch was ready, you know. I prepared everything.

Alex, was I cross? I thought I had a headache, but I haven't. Come here, Boris. Alex knows that after you, there's no one in the whole world I like as well as I like him. So if he sometimes feels snubbed, it won't hurt him. Oh, la bonheur. Who says there are no thunderstorms in April? We eat. We eat. Food! Food! Food!

They worked hard, the artists, but fixedly. And as they pleased. And so, consequently, Jack Scott, Boris and Eric idled a great deal as well. There was a bathing room, which Boris had turned into a second studio. In the center was a square pool, sunken below the surface of the floor. Steps led down into it. I say, and I say again, my friend, while my sculpture is magnificent...

Your, what you are pleased to call painting, is perfectly ludicrous. Oh, you think I'm joking? Oh, but I've never been more serious in my life. As a painter, you would make a fine weight. Wait, my friend. I am still stronger than you. And you are about to...

Get in, Jack. In you go. Alex. I forgot. The pool. What? What are you... I nearly threw you in. Well? The pool. Full of solution. Oh.

Solution? Oh, you mean... Alec, forgive me. I don't think I feel like being turned to stone today. Not particularly. In heaven's name, why keep the pool full of that stuff? It is good. I want to experiment on something large. Oh? Me, for instance? Oh, that came too close for jesting. No, no, I...

I want to watch the action on something. The action of the solution on a more highly organized living body. That big white rabbit, for instance. You're coming with me to the gallery. I want to see that Rodin bronze again. Ah, and the Monet landscape. We are ready to take Alec along to see how real things are. I'm going to go to work. I'm going to go to work.

The house of Boris Ivan the Sculptor contained a fine smoking room. It was never used for smoking, although there were racks of very fine pipes in the room. No, the place was altogether too gloomy to spend very much time in. Two days after the Sculptor had nearly cast his friend into the pool, Alex came into the smoking room late in the afternoon. For the first time he sat and smoked there and found it not at all unpleasant. Something about the twilight, he thought. It was soothing.

The rugs and skins on the floor looked brown and soft. The big couch was piled with cushions. The pipe went out, and he was soon asleep. When he woke, someone was playing piano. The music was strangely sad. It was quite dark. He listened and caught a brief scent of her perfume. He knew too well who played so sadly. The End

Genevieve? Yes? All right, Genevieve. It's me, Alec. Alec. I've been sitting here dreaming. Came for a smoke, ended up having a sleep. Don't know how long. Where's Boris? He's gone to Epcot, Mr. Scott. He thought you'd gone home before dinner. Forgive me, Alec, for letting you stay here alone all this time. I had a nice long nap.

Won't you care again? No. I don't want to. Please go home now, Annick. Good night. She's asleep. She seems to have a fever. A high one. The doctor can't account for it. Or else he will not. Genevieve has a fever? Oh, yes. Unusual, I know. The case of Genevieve, yes. She was light-headed at the interval. She kept saying her heart broken and...

And she wants to die. The maid will call me the moment she wakes up. What shall we do? For some unaccountable reason, when the other had said the beautiful Genevieve wished to die, Alex Hart stood still. He was very suddenly afraid. There was no reason, but something had changed. It was no longer Boris and the beautiful Genevieve and two faithful friends painting and sculpting. The happy bohemian life. Something had changed.

There was a difference in Boris. There was a difference in the woman. Come and see my rose-colored bath full of death. Come on.

Darling, let's go out and paint the town red. But what about your headache? Oh, that's gone. Grandpa Headache Powders did the trick. Grandpa Headache Powders cure pain, soothe strained nerves and lift depression. Grandpa Headache Powders are extra effective because they have a triple action. Grandpa Headache Powders work extra fast because they dissolve almost immediately. Get fast, effective relief from any pain or pain. Get Grandpa Headache Powders. Ah, Grandpa. Grandpa.

Oh, darling, can't it look as though you're enjoying yourself? The party's great. Yes, it was on July 8th. Well, take a dye gel. I always keep some in my bag. But I already took an antacid. Yes, darling, but dye gel is much more than an antacid. Dye gel has double action. There's a layer of antacid plus a layer of semethicone. It's the semethicone that relieves that dreadful bloated feeling. Here, try a dye gel. Like they say, when you eat too well, demand dye gel.

Is it death, Boris? You are not prepared to call it life, I suppose. We'll try another goldfish. Send another one after this first, wherever that is. The sculptor collected one of the squirming fish from the bowl in the studio and made his way to the crystal pool. The fish was cast into the pool, and as it sank into the liquid, its scales flashed with a hot orange gleam. Then suddenly...

It became heavy and rigid and sank to the bottom. Then came the milky foam, the splendid hues, and then the shaft of pure, serene light. And Boris lay on his stomach, reached into the pool, and retrieved the goldfish. An exquisite marble thing, blue-veined and rose-tinted, and glistening with opalescent drops.

Ah, child's play. It is simple. Hello. I don't know the fish. Boris? Hello, Jack. Something bigger now, hmm? You must try something bigger now, Boris. You must watch yourself. Don't put ideas into his mind. Two days ago, I was very nearly thrown in. That's nonsense, and will you know it?

Well, you did say. I mean... It was only a joke. Well, I know that. I mean, I'm not... Listen, the white rabbit. Let's put him in. Oh, imagine how beautiful he'll look down in marble. I can get another one easily. You can't. Not the rabbit. Why not? What's the difference between a rabbit and a fish? You paid no heed to the fish, Coy. I'll go and get the rabbit. And they played their game with the white rabbit. Alec went away and read some magazines declining to be present when life went out of something large and furry. A fish, yes.

But there was a difference between something cold-blooded and small and coveted to the scales. And... And just as they came back with their marble-ratted, the bell rang from upstairs in the sick room. Oh, my God. Genevieve? I suppose so. The doctor doesn't seem to know what the matter was with her. Fever. It's easy to say just simply fever. Beautiful, isn't he? Who? Oh, not the doctor, obviously. The rabbit. Look. Pure, lovely.

i'm not particularly impressed anymore in fact can we get the doctor hurry please hurry jack scott went for the doctor alec went up to genevieve's room the girl fever was higher though her cheeks weren't bright red her hair was damp and awry her lovely hands opened and closed opened and closed

The eyes remained closed. Can I... Can I get something? Help. Jack's crying. Don't understand. What's he doing with her? Danik. Quiet. Why did I turn him away? Why?

I love you. Please, please. Alex. Alex. Please. Alex. Don't cry. She's not your fault, Alex. Don't grieve so. Just because she loves you. Just because.

Two years ago she told me she loved me, that she loved you better. I was heartbroken, but it didn't stop me feeling what I always have for you. Deep underneath, I hurt still. I'd rather be alone for a while, if you'd caution. And the painter went home. The two years' strain since the morning in May when Genevieve had confessed that her love for Boris was greater began to tear at last. Since that time, never in short word or deed had Alec betrayed his sorrow.

but now the mask of self-deception could no longer be worn. Whilst Alex sat staring from his window, Boris worked feverishly on the fates, a beautiful, rather terrible group he was sculpting, also for the salon that year. While he worked, the Madonna looked on, frozen forever in stone, her face as near in stone to the lovely Genovese, in flesh and blood, as anyone in the world could make it. And even as he worked,

The real Lady Genovese left her bed and after looking sadly through at the sculptor walked slowly towards the bathing room.

a second after she had passed boris put down his hammer and chisel and on an impulse went to the door and looked out into the passage beyond he saw the flash of his lady's gun as she passed into the bathing room he must have known instinctively

And the Madonna in carbon stone watched spitefully from the studio. And yet another Madonna lay her hands across her breast, carbon-exhumed in marble at the bottom of the pool. Something bigger now. You must try something bigger now, Boris. You must try... I'm sorry. I would have given anything in the world not to have had to tell you. But someone had to. I know. Are you sure of yourself? Two to half? Yes.

I carried him to a room and then I went and let that filthy stuff out of the pool. I was frightened. Too frightened to go down the steps. I did though. In the end, she was white as snow. I went and found bottles of the solution and I smashed them. I made a fire. A big one and destroyed all Boris' notebooks and papers. I burned them. There's no chance of the formula ever being discovered now. I...

I called the doctor in the end. I could never have managed everything without his help. He's a good soul. He knows when to pity a man who can bear no more. Oh, we've got the servants by him. Send them to the country. Rozier keeps them quiet there. Stories of Boris's and Genevieve's travels in foreign countries. He buried Boris in a little cemetery, a fair one. The doctor gave his certificate as heart disease. No one else knows anything. They mustn't.

This is for both of us. Please open it. It's from him. I suppose it's the will. Yes. Leave everything to Genevieve. In the event of her dying, she's triumphant. I'll be taking care of the house of the blue chance to see her. You ought to look after the management of that. On our death, property is to revert to his mother's family. Except the marbles and sculptors, he's done. And to heaven. Genevieve lies before the Madonna in the marble room.

The Madonna bends tenderly above her. Genevieve smiles back at her. Why not? What else is there to do? She's just a beautiful piece of marble now. She's yours. You've always loved her. What would you have had me do? Bury her? Courage, Alec. A week later, Jack Scott left for the Channel Isles. But Alec went to live in Boris's house, having given up his own apartment.

He found he could paint at the house in the Rue Saint-Facile. This surprised him. Sorrow faded like everything else. It was a long time, though, before he could bring himself to enter the room where she rested. At last, he was drawn by the strength of his life's passion to the sealed door of the marble room.

It was just as always. Sunlight poured through the window, tipping with gold the wings of Cupid, lingering like a nimble over the brows of Madonna, her tender face bent in compassion over a form in marble so exquisitely pure that he knelt before it and wept.

Genovese lay in the shadow under the Madonna, and yet through her white arm he saw the pale, azure vein, and beneath her softly clasped hands the folds of her dress were tinged with rose, as if from some faint warm light within her breast. He touched the marbled rapier with his lips and left the room.

Sir? Yes, what is it? Someone at the garden has seen a white rabbit. White rabbit? Well, what of it? Oh, beg pardon, sir, but it was running about the house when he came to lay the fire this morning, sir. Well, if it's caught, let it live in the walled garden. Is that all? Just this letter, sir. Oh, thank you.

My dear Alec, this must be short. I beg you, do not leave the house of Ruth and Cecile. Do not even go out until I return. I have been plagued by dreams again. I even make a little sense out of some of them. But I beg you not to leave the house under any pretext. Jack. Locked his reason? Oh, you're back again, aren't you? Sorry, but this fish, you see, this goldfish in it. What? What?

Well, what have you got them in a dish for? Sir, people are playing tricks. Someone's stolen the white marble rabbit and put a live one in the house and no one can catch it. Those lovely marble fish are gone too and I just found these common live ones flopping about on the floor in the dining room. What? What?

The sculpture room was just the same. The sunlight was streaming in, and through the sunlight, in a heavenly glory, the Madonna smiled as Genovese lifted her flushed face from the marble couch and opened her sleepy eyes. ♪♪

Just soak, just soak in biotech. If you have wondered how to get your washing really stain-free, understand this. Biotech removes the stains and dirt washing won't.

Just soak. Just soak in biotech. Stains, grass stains, tiresome collar and cuff stains, ingrained dirt, soil and grime. Out they all come and you don't stir a finger. Just soak. Just soak in biotech. Biotech with natural enzymes is a pre-wash powder with the most enzymes to give you extra pre-wash power. Absolutely no rubbing, no color loss, no fabric wear. Use it for cotton, silks, woolens, synthetics.

Use it to make new again. Soaking in biotech removes the stains and dirt that washing won't. Just soak. Just soak in biotech. Beyond Midnight is presented every Friday night at half past nine by biotech. The new soak and pre-wash powder. The program is adapted for broadcasting and produced by Michael McCabe. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition.

Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience — burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important. At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge.

With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress from my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But, well, the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off and use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. Oh, my God.

The End

Welcome to a half hour of MindWaves. Short stories from the worlds of speculative fiction. This story is written by Bertram Chandler.

Its title is The Cage, and it first appeared in the magazine of fantasy and science fiction of June 1957. Imprisonment is always a humiliating experience, no matter how philosophical the prisoner. Imprisonment by one's own kind is bad enough, but one can at least talk to one's captors. One can make one's wants understood. One can on occasion appeal to them man to man.

Imprisonment is doubly humiliating when one's captors, in all honesty, treat one as a lower animal. The party from the survey ship could perhaps be excused for failing to recognize the survivors from the interstellar liner Lodestar's rational beings. At least 200 days have passed since their landing on the planet without a name, an unintentional landing made when Lodestar's air-and-half generators, driven far in excess of their normal capacity by a breakdown of the electronic regulator,

had flung her far from the regular shipping lanes to an unexplored region of space. Lode Star had landed safely enough, but shortly thereafter, troubles never come singly. Her pile had got out of control, and her captain had ordered his first mate to evacuate the passengers and such crew members not needed to cope with the emergency and to get them as far from the ship as possible. Hawkins and his charges were well clear when there was a flare of released energy, a not very violent explosion.

The survivors wanted to turn to watch, but Hawkins drove them on with curses and at times blows. Luckily, they were upwind from the ship and so escaped the fallout. When the fireworks seemed to be over, Hawkins, accompanied by Dr. Boyle, the ship's surgeon, returned to the scene of the disaster. The two men, wary of radioactivity, were cautious and stayed a safe distance from the shallow, still-smoking crater that marked where the ship had been.

It was all too obvious to them that the captain, his officers and technicians were now no more than an infinitesimal part of the incandescent cloud that had mushroomed up into the low overcast. Thereafter, the 50-odd men and women, the survivors of Lodestar, had degenerated. It hadn't been a fast process. Hawkins and Boyle, aided by a committee of the more responsible passengers, had fought a stout rearguard action, but it had been a hopeless sort of fight.

The climate was against them for a start. Hot it was, always in the neighborhood of 85 degrees Fahrenheit. And it was wet, a thin, warm drizzle falling all the time. The air seemed to abound with the spores of fungi. Luckily, these did not attack living skin, but drove on dead organic matter and clothing. They drove to an only slightly lesser degree on metals and on the synthetic fabrics that many of the castaways wore.

Danger, outside danger, would have helped to maintain morale. But there were no dangerous animals. There were only little smooth-skinned things, not unlike frogs that hopped through the sudden undergrowth and in the numerous rivers, fish-like creatures that ranged in size from the shark to the tadpole, all of them possessing the bellicosity of the latter. Food had been no problem after the first few hungry hours.

volunteers had tried a large, succulent fungus growing on the boles of the huge, fern-like trees. They'd pronounced it good. After a lapse of five hours, they had neither died nor even complained of abdominal pains. That fungus was to become the staple diet of the castaways. In the weeks that followed, other fungi had been found, and berries and roots, all of them edible. They provided a welcome variety.

Fire, in spite of the all-pervading heat. Fire was the blessing most missed by the castaways. With it, they could have supplemented their diet by catching and cooking the little frog-like things of the rainforest, the fishes of the streams. Some of the hardier spirits did eat these animals raw, but they were frowned upon by most of the other members of the community.

Two, fire would have helped to drive back the darkness of the long nights, would by its real warmth and light have dispelled the illusion of cold produced by the ceaseless dripping of water from every leaf and frond. When they fled from the ship, most of the survivors had possessed pocket lighters, but the lighters had been lost when the pockets, together with the clothing surrounding them, had disintegrated.

In any case, all attempts to start a fire in the days when there were still pocket lighters had failed. There was not, Hawkins swore, a single dry spot on the whole accursed planet. Now the making of fire was quite impossible. Even if there had been present an expert on the rubbing together of two dry sticks, he could have found no material with which to work. They made their permanent settlement on the crest of a low hill.

There were, so far as they could discover, no mountains. It was less thickly wooded there than the surrounding plains, and the ground was less marshy underfoot. They succeeded in wrenching fronds from the fern-like trees and built for themselves crude shelters, more for the sake of privacy than for any comfort that they afforded. And they clung with a certain desperation to the governmental forms of the worlds that they had left and elected themselves a council.

Boyle, the ship's surgeon, was their chief. Hawkins, rather to his surprise, was returned as a council member by a majority of only two votes. On thinking it over, he realized that many of the passengers must still bear a grudge against the ship's executive staff for their present predicament. The first council meeting was held in a hut, if so it could be called, especially constructed for the purpose.

Ladies and gentlemen...

Hawkins looked around him at the naked pallid bodies, at the stringy, lusterless hair, the long, dirty fingernails of the men and the unpainted lips of the women. He thought, I don't suppose I look much like an officer and a gentleman myself. Ladies and gentlemen, we have been, as you know, elected to represent the human community upon this planet.

I suggest that at this our first meeting, we discuss our chances of survival not as individuals but as a race. I'd like to ask Mr. Hawkins what our chances are of being picked up. Shouted one of the two women members, a dried up spinsterish creature with prominent ribs and vertebrae. Then Hawkins said... Slam.

As you know, no communication is possible with other ships or with planet stations when the interstellar drive is operating. When we snapped out of the drive and came in for our landing, we sent out a distress call, but we couldn't say where we were.

Furthermore, we don't know that the call was received. Miss Taylor and Mr. Hawkins, I would remind you that I am the duly elected president of this council. I believe there will be time later for a general discussion. Now, as most of you may already have assumed, the age of this planet, biologically speaking, corresponds roughly with that of Earth during the Carboniferous era.

As we already know, no species yet exists to challenge our supremacy.

By the time such a species does emerge, something analogous to the giant lizards of Earth's Triassic era, we should be well established. We shall be dead. We shall be dead, but our descendants will be very much alive. We have to decide how to give them as good a start as possible. Language we shall bequeath to them. Never mind the language, Doc.

Called the other woman member, she was a small blonde, slim, with a hard face. It's just this question of descendants that I'm here to look after. I represent the women of childbearing age. There are, as you know, 15 of us here. So far, the girls have been very, very careful. We have reason to be. Can you, as a medical man, guarantee, bearing in mind that you have no drugs, no instruments, safe deliveries...

Can you guarantee that our children will have a good chance of survival? Miss Hart, I'll be frank. I have not, as you've pointed out, either drugs or instruments, but I can assure you that your chances of a safe delivery are far better than they would have been on Earth during, well, let's say, the 18th century. And I'll tell you why.

On this planet, Miss Hart, so far as we know, and we've been here long enough now to find out the hard way, on this planet there exist no microorganisms harmful to man. Now, if such organisms did exist, the bodies of those of us still surviving would be by this time mere masses of superation. And most of us, of course, would have died of septicemia long ago. And, well, I think that answers both your questions. I haven't finished yet. Here's another point.

There are 53 of us here, men and women. There are 10 married couples, so we'll count them out. That leaves 33 people, of whom 20 are men. 20 men to 13 women. Aren't we girls always unlucky? All of us aren't young, but we're all of us women.

"'What sort of marriage set-up do we have? Monogamy? Polyandry?' "'Monogamy, of course,' said a tall, thin man sharply. He was the only one of those present who wore clothing, if so it could be called. The disintegrating fronds lashed around his waist with a strand of vine did little to serve any useful purpose. "'All right, then. Monogamy.'

I'd rather prefer it that way myself. But I warn you that if that's the way we play it, there's going to be trouble. And in any murder involving passion and jealousy, the woman is as liable to be a victim as either of the men, and I don't want that. Well, what exactly do you propose then, Miss Hart? Just this, Doc. When it comes to our matings, we leave love out of it.

If two men want to marry the same woman, then let them fight it out. The best man gets the girl and keeps her. I see, yes, natural selection. I am in favor, but we must put it to the vote. At the crest of the low hill was a shallow depression, a natural arena. Round the rim sat the castaways, all but four of them. One of the four was Dr. Boyle. He had discovered that his duties as president embraced those of a referee.

It had been held that he was the best competent to judge when one of the contestants was liable to suffer permanent damage. Another of the four was the girl, Mary Hart. She had found a serrated twig with which to comb her long hair. She had contrived a wreath of yellow flowers with which to crown the victor. Was it, wondered Hawkins as he sat with the other council members, was it a hankering after an earthly wedding ceremony, or was it a harking back to something older and darker?

"'A pity these blasted molds got on our watches,' said the fat man on Hawkins' right. "'If we had any means of telling the time, we could have rounds, make a proper prize fight of it.' Hawkins nodded. He looked at the four in the center of the arena, at the strutting barbaric woman, at the pompous old man.'

at the two dark-bearded young men with their glistening white bodies. He knew them both. Fennett had been a senior cadet of the ill-fated Lodestar. Clemens, at least seven years Fennett's senior, was a passenger, had been a prospector on the frontier worlds.

If we had anything to bet with, I'd lay it on Clemens. That cadet of yours hasn't a snowball's chance in hell. He's been brought up to fight clean. Clemens has been brought up to fight dirty. Fennett's in better condition. He's been taking exercise, while Clemens has been just laying around sleeping and eating.

Look at that punch on him. There's nothing wrong with good, healthy flesh and muscle. Now remember, no gouging, no biting, and may the best man win. The doctor stepped back smartly from the contestants and stood with the heart woman. There was an air of embarrassment about the pair of them as they stood there, each with his fists hanging at his sides. Each seemed to be regretting that matters had come to such a pass.

Go on, don't you want me? You'll live to a ripe old age here and it'll be lonely with no woman. Eh, they can always wait around till your daughters grow up, Mary. If I ever have any daughters, I shan't at this rate. Fennet made a start. He stepped forward almost diffidently, dabbed with his right fist at Clemens' unprotected face. It wasn't a heart blow, but it must have been painful. Clemens put his hand up to his nose, brought it away and stared at the bright blood staining it.

He growled, lumbered forward with arms open to hug and crush. The cadet danced back, scoring twice more with his right. Why doesn't he hit him? And break every bone in his fist? They aren't wearing gloves, you know. Fennett decided to make a stand. He stood firm, his feet slightly apart, and brought his right into play once more. This time, he left his opponent's face alone, went for his belly instead.

Hawkins was surprised to see that the prospector was taking the blows with apparent equanimity. He must be, he decided, much tougher in actuality than in appearance. The cadet sidestepped smartly and slipped on the wet grass. Clemens fell heavily onto his opponent. Hawkins could hear the whoosh as the air was forced from the lad's lungs.

The prospector's thick arms encircled Fennett's body, and Fennett's knee came up viciously to Clemens' groin. The prospector squealed but hung on grimly. One of his hands was around Fennett's throat now, and the other one, its fingers viciously hooked, was clawing for the cadet's eyes. "'No, no gouging,' I said. No gouging!' He dropped down to his knees, caught Clemens' thick wrist with both his hands. Something made Hawkins look up then.

It may have been a sound, although this is doubtful. The spectators were behaving like boxing fans at a prize fight. They could hardly be blamed. This was the first piece of real excitement that had come their way since the loss of the ship. It may have been a sound that made Hawkins look up. It may have been the sixth sense possessed by all good spacemen. What he saw made him cry out. Hovering above the arena was a helicopter.

There was something about the design of it, a subtle oddness that told Hawkins that this was no earthly machine. Suddenly, from its smooth, shining belly dropped a net, seemingly of dull metal. It enveloped the struggling figures on the ground, trapped the doctor and Mary Hart.

Hawkins shouted again a wordless cry. He jumped to his feet, ran to the assistance of his ensnared companions. The net seemed to be alive. It twisted itself around his wrists, bound his ankles. Others of the castaways rushed to aid Hawkins. Keep away! Scatter! The low drone of the helicopter's rotors rose in pitch. The machine lifted.

In an incredibly short space of time, the arena was to the first mate's eyes no more than a pale green saucer in which little white ants scurried aimlessly. Then the flying machine was above and through the base of the low clouds, and there was nothing to be seen but drifting whiteness. When at last it made its descent, Hawkins was not surprised to see the silvery tower of a great spaceship standing among the low trees on a level plateau.

The world to which they were taken would have been a marked improvement on the world they had left had it not been for the mistaken kindness of their captors. The cage in which the three men were housed duplicated with remarkable fidelity the climatic conditions of the planet upon which Lodestar had been lost. It was glassed in and from sprinklers in its roof fell a steady drizzle of warm water.

A couple of dispirited tree ferns provided little shelter from the depressing precipitation. Twice a day a hatch at the back of the cage, which was made of a sort of concrete, opened, and slabs of a fungus remarkably similar to that on which they had been subsisting were thrown in. There was a hole in the floor of the cage. This, the prisoners rightly assumed, was for sanitary purposes. On either side of them were other cages. In one of them was Mary Hart, alone.

She could gesture to them, wave to them, and that was all. The cage on the other side held a beast built on the same general lines as a lobster, but with a strong hint of squid. Across the broad roadway, they could see other cages, but could not see what they housed. Hawkins, Boyle, and Fennett sat on the damp floor and stared through the thick glass and the bars at the beings outside who stared at them.

Well, if only they were humanoid, if only they were the same shape as we are, we might make a start towards convincing them that we too are intelligent beings, Hawkins. They aren't the same shape. And we, were the situations reversed, would take some time convincing that three six-legged beer barrels were men and brothers. Try Pythagoras' theorem again.

Without enthusiasm, Fennett broke fronds from the nearest tree fern. He broke them into smaller pieces, then on the mossy floor laid them out in the design of a right-angled triangle with squares constructed on all three sides. The natives, a large one, one slightly smaller, and a little one, regarded him incuriously with their flat, dull eyes.

The large one put the tip of a tentacle into a pocket. The things wore clothing. And pulled out a brightly colored packet. Handed it to the little one. The little one tore off the wrapping. Started stuffing pieces of some bright blue confection into the slot on its upper side that obviously served it as a mouth. I wish they were allowed to feed the animals. I'm sick of that damned fungus. No, let's recapitulate. After all, we've nothing else to do.

We were taken from our camp by the helicopter, six of us. We're taken to the survey ship, a vessel that seemed in no way superior to our own interstellar ships. And you assure us, Hawkins, that the ship used the Herrenhoff drive or something so close to it as to be its twin brother. Correct. Now, on the ship, we've been kept in separate cages. There's no ill treatment. We're fed and watered at frequent intervals. We land on this strange planet, but we see nothing of it.

"'We're hustled out of cages like so many cattle into a covered van. "'We know that we're being driven somewhere, that's all. "'The van stops, the door opens, "'and a couple of these animated beer barrels poke in poles "'with smaller additions of those fancy nets on the end of them. "'And they catch Clemens and Miss Taylor, "'drag them out, and we never see them again.'

The rest of us spend the night and the following day and night in individual cages. The next day we're taken to this zoo. Do you think they were vivisected? I never liked clements, Doc, but I am afraid they were, Fennet. Our captors must have learned of the difference between the sexes by it. And luckily there's no way of determining intelligence by vivisection.

Ah, the filthy brutes. Easy, son. You can't blame them, you know. We've vivisected animals a lot more like us than we are to these things. The problem is to convince these things, as you call them, Hawkins, to convince them that we are rational beings like themselves. How would they define a rational being? How would we define a rational being?

Maybe somebody who knows Pythagoras' theorem? I read somewhere that the history of man is the history of the fire-making, tool-using animal. Then make fire. Make us some tools and use them. Don't be silly. You know that there's not an artifact among the bunch of us. No false teeth, even. And not even a metal filling. Even so...

When I was a youngster, there was, among the cadets in the interstellar ships, a revival of the old arts and crafts. We considered ourselves in a direct line of descent from the old windjammer sailormen. So we learned how to splice rope and wire, how to make senate and fancy knots and all the rest of it. Then, one of us hit on the idea of basket baking.

We were in a passenger ship, and we used to make our baskets secretly, daub them with violent colors, and sell them to passengers as genuine souvenirs from the lost planet of Arturus VI.

There was a most distressing scene when the old man and the mate found out. What are you driving at, Hawkins? Just this. We will demonstrate our manual dexterity by the weaving of baskets. I'll teach you how. Well, it might work. It just might work.

On the other hand, remember that certain birds and animals do the same sort of thing. On Earth, there's the beaver who makes quite cunning dams, and there's the bower bird who makes a bower for his mate as part of the courtship ritual. The head keeper must have known of creatures whose courting habits resembled those of the Terran bower bird. After three days of feverish basket-making, which consumed all the bedding and stripped the tree ferns,

Mary Hart was taken from her cage and put in with the three men. After she had got over her hysterical pleasure at having somebody to talk to again, she was rather indignant. It was good, thought Hawkins drowsily, to have Mary with them. A few more days of solitary confinement must surely have driven the girl crazy. Even so, having Mary in the same cage had its drawbacks. You had to keep a watchful eye on that young fennet.

He even had to keep a watchful eye on Boyle, the old goat. Mary screamed. Hawkins jerked into complete wakefulness. He could see the pale form of Mary. On this world, it was never completely dark at night. And on the other side of the cage, the forms of Fennet and Boyle. He got hastily to his feet, stumbled to the girl's side. What is it? I don't know. Something small with sharp claws.

It ran over me. Oh, that was only Joe. Joe? I don't know exactly what he or she is. I think it's definitely a he. What is Joe? Well, he must be the local equivalent to a mouse. Although he doesn't look like one. He comes up through the floor somewhere to look for food. We're trying to tame him. You encourage the brute?

I demand that you do something about him at once. Poison him or trap him. Now. Tomorrow. Now. Tomorrow. The capture of Joel proved to be easy. Two flat baskets, hinged like the valves of an oyster shell, made the trap. There was bait inside, a large piece of the fungus.

There was a cunningly arranged upright that would fall at the least tug at the bait. Hawkins, lying sleepless on his damp bed, heard the tiny click and thud that told him that the trap had been sprung. He heard Joe's indignant chitterings, heard the tiny claws scrabbling at the stout basketwork. Mary Hart was asleep. He shook her. We've caught him. Then kill him. But Joe was not killed. The three men were rather attached to him.

With the coming of daylight, they transferred him to a cage that Hawkins had fashioned. Even the girl relented when she saw the harmless ball of multicolored fur bouncing indignantly up and down in its prison. She insisted on feeding the little animal, exclaimed gleefully when the thin tentacles reached out and took the fragment of fungus from her fingers.

For three days, they made much of their pet. On the fourth day, beings whom they took to be keepers entered the cage with their nets, immobilized the occupants, and carried off Joe and Hawkins. Well, I'm afraid it's all hopeless. He's gone the same way. They'll have him stuffed and mounted in some museum, won't they? No, they couldn't. Well, I'm afraid they could. Abruptly, the hatch at the back of the cage opened.

Before the three humans could retreat to the scant protection supplied by a corner, a voice called, It's all right. Come on out. And Hawkins walked into the cage. He was shaved, and the beginnings of a healthy tan had darkened the pallor of his skin. He was wearing a pair of trunks fashioned from some bright red material. Come on out. Our hosts have apologized very sincerely, and they have more suitable accommodation prepared for us.

Then, as soon as they have a ship ready, we're to go pick up the other survivors. Now, Hawkins, wait just a moment. Put us in the picture, will you? What made them realize that we were rational beings? Hawkins' face darkened, and he said, Only rational beings put other beings in cages. You've heard a story titled The Cage, written by Bertram Chandler.

It appeared first in the magazine of fantasy and science fiction for June of 1957. This is Michael Hansen speaking. Reading with me this time, Ward Paxton and Mindy Ratner. Technical production for MindWebs by Leslie Hiltonhoff. MindWebs comes to you from WHA Radio in Madison, a service of University of Wisconsin Extension. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition.

Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience — burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important. At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life. So eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge.

With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

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How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

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She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

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They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. Ellery Queen's Minute Mysteries. This is Ellery Queen with a case I call the Rocking Chair Fraud. A museum aide approached me to authenticate an item being considered for the early American wing of the museum. It was a very crude wooden hobby horse that was purported to have been the inspiration for Benjamin Franklin's invention of the rocking chair.

What does the seller want for this antique hobby horse, I asked. The aide replied, really more than we want to pay. Then don't, I said. It's a fake. In a moment, I'll tell you how I knew. In the case of the rocking chair fraud, the first hobby horse wasn't made until around 1800. Franklin died in 1790. Pretty difficult to get inspired when you're cold in the grave. Listen again to Ellery Queen's Minute Mysteries.

Better pull yourself together and get moving. Well, she's a nice girl. Very talented girl. But she's Max Chandler's fiancée. She's on her way to tell Chandler what she saw here. Well, I don't suppose she does, sir. Then you can start imagining what it feels like to have a few thousand volts of electricity sucked through your body. Those are the Whisper Men. Oh!

The Mutual Broadcasting System presents The Whisper Man, featuring Carl Swenson in the role of Max Chandler, famous radio commentator and reporter, whose assignments bring him into constant conflict with The Whisper Man, international criminals who plot in secret to further their own sinister interests. The Whisper Man

In a radio studio in New York, Max Chandler is making his regular broadcast to the people of America. This is not the first, nor will it be the last time that I talk to you about the Whisper Men. Now, we know them as men who operate behind the facade of respectability. We know their schemes are large and intricate, but often they show their hand by some swift piece of violence that seems isolated and personal, unrelated to any big plot or conspiracy.

Yet, that pinpoint of violence may affect the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. I want to tell you such a story. Mr. and Mrs. William Potter live in a simple brownstone walk-up apartment east of Fifth Avenue in New York. For three days ago, Ann Potter returned home after being out for the afternoon. She was loaded down with paper bags and bundles. She remembered guiltily that she'd left the apartment door on the latch. It was a habit her husband often scolded her for.

She was glad now because her arms were full of packages. She went into the kitchen net and put down her bundle. Then she walked into the living room. What she saw left her standing frozen in the doorway. The room was a shambles. The furniture overturned, the lamps broken on the couch.

Lay the body of a woman Ann Potter had never seen before in her life. A kitchen knife had been driven deep into her heart. Ann's first thought was of her husband. Bill. Bill, where are you? Bill.

Hello? I'd like to speak to Miss Linda Jones, please. This is Linda Jones. Linda. This is Ann Potter. Hello. How are you? It's been ages. Linda. I'm in terrible trouble. What is it? Well, I just got in from shopping and I... There's a woman here, Linda. I never saw her before. Yes, what are you trying to tell me?

She's been murdered. Dead. Dead? I don't know what to do. I can't locate Bill. He isn't at his studio. Look, Chris, if you could get Max, he might be willing to come over. Yes, of course. I'll try it once, Ann. Have you called the police? No. I...

Then how do you want them? You must. You must call them at once. I'll try to locate Max and we'll be there as quickly as we can, but call the police. All right. Then yes, that's the thing to do. It is. And don't lose nerve, darling. We'll be there soon. This is Dean's Precinct, the toilet with Callahan. I... I want to report a murder. Yes.

Miss Potter? Yes. I'm Inspector Marsh of the Homicide Squad. How do you do, Inspector? I came out of the kitchenette because there isn't any place to go. Your men... Yeah, yeah, it's quite all right, Miss Potter. Now, I'll have to ask you some questions. Yes, I know. Tell me, who is the dead woman? I don't know. Oh? Well, how did it happen? I don't know. I was out all afternoon. I don't know.

I came back. I found her like that. Mm-hmm. How'd she get in? I terrifically left the door on the last night. Where is your husband, Miss Potter? At work. Telephoning? Yes, but he wasn't there. Then he isn't at work. No. Bill's a commercial artist. He has left the studio to talk to some editor. Tell me, is the dead woman a friend of your husband's? No. How do you know that? I know his friends are. Mm-hmm. I see.

When did you find him, Miss Carter? Not long ago. A little after five, I think. And where'd you been? To the movies and shopping. They're the things I brought from the table. What time did you go to the movies? About half past one. Did you go with someone? No. What theater? The Luxor, just around the corner. What pictures are showing there?

Well, Junior Miss and Detective... So you were away from the apartment from 1.30 to 5, huh? Yes. Tell me, where's your husband likely to be if he isn't at work? He might be out with a friend or seeing an editor. Ah, but you do expect him home? Of course, for something. Does he often leave his office without saying where he's going? Well, it isn't really an office. You see, it's a studio where he paints. There's no one there but him. And you don't know the dead woman? No, no. Tell me, do you have a carving knife in the apartment? Yes, of course. Let me see it. Well...

It's in the drawer. It's here somewhere. Well, Miss Potter? It doesn't seem to be here. Never mind. The carving knife was the murder weapon. Oh, you say that you're positive this woman is not a friend of your husband's? Positive. Just look at this, Miss Potter. Just look at this. This is a slip of paper that we found in the dead woman's bag. Please, read what's written on it. Bill Potter, 839-310-3...

Are you 7997? That's right. Now, from the things in the bag, we know that the woman's name is Rose Gilman. Are you quite sure you never heard your husband speak of her? Rose Gilman? Yes. Miss Potter! Callahan! Callahan, come in here. This woman's fainted. You better have a drink, Mr. Potter. You look kind of shaky. Thanks. I am a little shy. Come back into your own house and find this. Here. A good stiff slug will fix you. Oh, thanks. Thanks.

Oh, I'm afraid I don't know who you are. I'm Rod Goodcannon, Max Chandler's assistant. Oh, Max is here? Yeah, he's in the living room with a cop. Oh, where's Ann? Linda's taking care of him. Your wife got hold of Linda Jones as soon as she discovered the body. Linda brought us over here. Oh, Mr. Buchanan, did you see the body? Yeah. Yeah.

Well, I bet she... You're lucky you didn't have to look at it, is all I can say. Oh, hello, Max. Oh, Max. Max, gee, I'm glad to see you. Hello, Bill. Ron. You got a cigarette? Sure. Here. Thanks. Bill, you're in a dam. Yeah, I guess I am. You did know Rose Gilman, didn't you? Yes, yes, of course I knew her. But Ann didn't know about your friendship? No, no, you see...

Oh, I know how it's going to sound to you, Max. Go ahead, turn it. Well, Rose is a photographer's model. She poses for ads, magazine covers, that sort of thing. I ran across her in connection with my work. Had you felt for her? No. No, she was attractive, Max, and I, well, invited her to lunch a couple of times. We got in the habit of seeing each other three or four times a week, but only for a cocktail or lunch. That's a nice platonic friendship. Look, I tell you... Hey, I'll... Go ahead, Bill.

Well, that's all there was to it. But Ann didn't know about it, huh? No, it was just a flirtation. If it had been important, I'd have told her. I see. Max, I swear that's the truth. There was never anything between Rose and me.

I was flattered, I suppose, and... Well, Rose had problems, and I guess I felt kind of like a big shot telling her what to do. What kind of problems? Oh, she was separated from her no-good husband who wouldn't lift a finger to support her, and he wouldn't divorce her. The husband? What's his name? Howard Gilman. He's an advocate, an accountant, particularly. Do you know him, Bill? No, I never laid eyes on him. So what Rose Gilman wanted from you was advice on how to deal with her husband. Look, I'm not trying to say she didn't like me, but that's what we talked about.

What did you advise Rose to do, Bill? To talk with him, reason it out. When was your last date with her? Last Friday. You didn't have a date with her today? No. You didn't ask her to come here? Good Lord, no. Do you think I'd have brought her here? Well, I mean, with Anne... Well, you wrote down your address and phone number for her. Inspector Marsh found it in her bag. Well, she acted as though she was nervous about Gilman. I told her she got into trouble to phone me. I'd have explained it to Anne then if it had happened. What did you do this afternoon, Bill?

Oh, I worked till about four. I got done with the job I have to deliver tomorrow, so I knocked off. Oh, look, I know this is going to sound bad. Sounds all right so far. What happened after four? Well, I went for a walk. Where'd you walk? Down by the East River. How long? Yes. How long did you walk, Bill?

Well, I came home just now. Well, you just walked off by yourself for two hours down by the East River. Was it cold enough to freeze your ears off? That's not so unusual. I often take long walks down there. It's a good place for thinking. And plenty of people can tell you it's a regular habit of mine, too. Why are you still on the defensive, Bill? Well, because I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking I invited Rose here, that we had a quarrel, and then that I killed her. Isn't that what happened? Look, Max, you've got to believe me. I haven't seen Rose since last Friday. I didn't ask her here. Why should I want her dead? You've got to believe me. Bill. Bill, I don't know. Oh, Ann. Ann, darling, I've been such a fool, but honey, I swear I never... I know, Bill. I know. It's going to be all right. Tough situation, Mr. Chandler. But then, Mike on a job is usually unpleasant.

Yes, yes, I know, Inspector. You're going to arrest Bill Potter. What else can I do? No one else has any discoverable connection with Rose Gilman. Well, how about Howard Gilman, her husband? Check down on me as an ironclad alibi. Somehow, I just can't believe that Bill Potter... Now, wait a minute. There's a bottle of liquor in the room with a dead woman, see? She had a drink with a murderer before she was killed. Now, Bill Potter's fingerprints are on that bottle. They would be, wouldn't they? It was his liquor. What about Bill Potter?

What about tonight? White thing. Now, listen, Chandler, the switchboard operator at Rose Gilman's apartment house says that she called Potter's number several times in the early part of the afternoon, Steve. I don't mean at his studio. I mean here, at his apartment. Well, where's that at, I say? I think she came over here to find him. And Potter had left the door on a latch, and I think Rose Gilman let herself in. I think Bill Potter found her here and killed her. It's a pretty circumstantial case, Inspector. A good defense lawyer would tear it to pieces, Inspector. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, I know.

Until something else turns up, I just can't overlook it. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to arrest Bill Potter on suspicion of murder. Ron, find anything out about, uh, Glove Gilman's friends? There's just one thing turned up, Mike. He did a lot of modeling for a photographer named Ferris. Jimmy, sir? You know him, Linda? No, but he's done a lot of work for Globe Magazine.

He does photograph girls, but he's particularly good at taking the scenery. He's a good photographer. Oh, not as good as you, I'll bet. Bladderer. The dope I got is that this Ferris used to take the Gilman dame out on dates every once in a while. Now, why don't you and Rod go talk to Howard Gilman, the husband?

He's going to be the tough one to talk to because he'll know why you're there. I'll go see Jimmy Ferris. Oh, you better stay out of it, Linda. But look, I can talk to Ferris without his knowing what I'm after. My job as official photographer for Globe would give me an excuse to call him. Oh. I could bring up the subject of Rose Gilman quite offhandedly. Yeah. Linda, I think you've seen the good one. Rod and I will see Howard Gilman. You tackle Ferris. Uh, floor, please. Eight, please.

Do you happen to know if Mr. Ferris, the photographer, is still in the office? I haven't seen him come out, miss. Oh, thank you. There must be someone around who wouldn't leave a place unlocked. Yes, what is it? Oh, are you Mr. Ferris? No. Well, may I see Mr. Ferris? What about? It's personal. Oh, okay.

I'm Manfred Jack, manager of the thing. Nice to know you, Mr. Jack. I'd really like to talk to Mr. Sears. What's your name? I'm Linda Jones. I'm from Globe Magazine. Oh, yes. Yes, I know your work, Miss Jones. Thank you. How about Mr. Sears? Jimmy's no use to anyone right now. Better come back tomorrow. Tomorrow may be too late. I'd like to see him now. I don't know what you're going to do about it.

Jimmy is Cinco. Been drinking? That's what the word Cinco means to me. Well, is he really bad? Wouldn't he make sense at all? You're quite a persistent character, Miss Jones. You can see what he's like for yourself. You got a collar, Jimmy? Yeah.

Yeah. Mr. Ferris, I wanted to talk to you. My name is Linda Jones. There's nothing troubling me today. I won't be needing any miles this time of day. I'm not a model, Mr. Ferris. Miss Jones is a photographer, too, Jimmy. She's from Globe Magazine. I'm also a friend of Ann Potter's, Mr. Ferris.

Please, Mr. Phillips, it's very urgent for me to talk to you. Part of him murdered Rose. That's who it was. Part of him murdered her. Remember, Manny? I told you I heard her on the radio. Manny, don't... When did you write this on the telephone pad, Jimmy? What? This. Oh. I don't remember that. It wasn't very smart, Jimmy. You better get back inside, Jimmy. Yeah.

Yeah, I guess. Please, Mr. Ferris, I know you're upset, but I know Rose Gilman was one of your models. I know she was... If I were you, Miss Jones, I'd take a powder. I tell you, Mr. Zack, I've got to... I'll be right there, Jimmy. Miss Jones, how long were you out here before I came from the back room? Only a few seconds. Why? I just wondered. Look, Mr. Zack, I've got to talk to Mr. Ferris. He doesn't seem to be too badly off to do a little... You don't act right, Miss Jones. I keep telling you to go away.

But I don't understand how... How can I make it any plainer, Miss Jones? Get out. Certainly do make it plainer, Mr. Jones. Jimmy, where are you? Over here, by the way. Jimmy, do you know who that girl was? Yes. Yes. Linda Jones. Flow magazine. Excellent photographer. You had... You had the head man's address and telephone number written down on your pad.

Suppose the Jones girl saw it. You've got to pull yourself together, Jimmy. Get moving. The Jones. Yes, sir. Very talented girl. She's Max Chandler's fiancée, and she's on her way to tell Chandler what she saw here. I suppose she does, darling. Then you can start imagining what it feels like to have a few thousand volts of electricity shot through your body. Come on. You've got to move quickly. Come on.

I beg your pardon. Can you tell me which side of the platform I get to downtown local? Yeah, yeah, it's over there. Thank you. Bye. Pardon me, but you don't have to crowd like that. Please, you're crowding me towards the edge of the platform. Please, book down your newspaper. You can't see what you're doing. You're putting me towards the edge of the platform. Please!

Oh, that girl. He thought someone was trying to push her. Just a case of hysterics, I guess. Nobody was trying to push her. Easy, darling, easy. That's crazy. Because I never saw his face, but I kept having the feeling it was that. That he'd followed me and for some reason he was...

I'm kidding. It must have been Zack. Who else? Well, it could have been Ferris Rod or someone that we don't know about at all. Zack. There's something familiar about that, but I can't place it. Nanny Zack. Never heard of him myself. Yes. What's he look like, Flender? Dark. Flender.

His suit was sharply tailored, but it was his eyes that it wasn't any warmth at all. They were like shiny black marble. You didn't see what was written on the telephone pad, did you, Mother? No, I wish I had. When Zach saw it, he seemed to freeze. Then he ripped off the top sheet and tore it into pieces.

But after that, he began to act so strangely. Well, there's one thing on the cards. We've got to go up to Ferris' place and give these two jerks a going over. We've got things to settle with Mr. Zack. Yeah, Rod, I've got kind of a yin to talk to Mr. Zack myself. You two aren't going to leave me here alone. I don't mind admitting I'm...

So scared. Oh, look, darling. Suppose we drop you off at Ann Potter's. I imagine it's pretty tough for her, too, being alone with Bill in jail. Yeah. Whatever you say, Max. But... Yes, darling? Be careful of that. There's something about him, Max, so cold, so deadly.

Someone has still light down in Ferris' office, man. Yeah. They seem to work crazy hours. It's pretty nearly midnight. Don't imagine that Mr. Ferris is in the mood for sleeping, Rog. Let's go in, then. I'm just... This is the waiting room where Linda saw Zack and Ferris. Yeah. I, uh... I wonder where they are. I don't seem to pay any attention to that bell. Let's have a look in the back office, then. Okay. Okay.

Holy smoke. Ferris. Hey, Ferris. He's dead, Max. Look at the way his head lounged over the one side. The knife again, Ron. Been stabbed half a dozen times. Only this time the murderer took the knife away with him. Look at this room. Whole place has been torn to pieces. Yeah. Mostly film negatives and prints. This must have been a sort of store room for Ferris' photographic work.

Wonder if the murderer found what he was looking for. Why do we keep calling him the murderer? It's Zach, isn't it? I think so, Ron, and I don't like it. Zach still thinks that Linda saw something on that pad. Say, I noticed the phone out in the waiting room. You know Ed Potter's number? There's the phone. Wait a minute. Yeah? That must be the telephone pad that Zach was worried about. Well, it won't do us much good now. He tore the paper off. Yeah, I know, but quite often the impression of writing goes through to the page below. Especially if someone bore down hard while they were writing.

There's something very funny here. Hold it up to the light. Maybe you can read it that way. K-U-R-T. Kurt. S-C-H-N-E-I-T.

Schneider, Kurt Schneider. That sounds familiar, Max, but I can't play it. Familiar? Kurt Schneider is a German, a naturalized citizen of the Argentines. He's one of the big shots behind the whole German cartel system in South America. One of the most dangerous men to the future peace of the world still alive. The whisper man, huh? One of the real big shot conspirators.

Rob, this thing is suddenly starting to add up. I don't get it, Mike. I'll explain it to you after we've made our phone call. I want to make sure that Linda and Ann are all right. I want to make sure that Linda and Ann are all right.

I'll get it for you, Ann. If it's reporters again, Linda, I just can't talk to them. I can't. You don't have to talk to them. Hello? Linda? Matt. Where are you, darling? At Ferris' office. Are you all right, Linda? Yeah, we're all right. Why? Ferris has been murdered. I think it's Zach. Matt.

Now, this turns out to be a big-time case, Linda. It's the Whisperman again. That's the reason that Zach went after you in the subway. It's not just a simple murder case. Well, where does Bill Potter fit into a thing like that? I'll explain to you when I see you. I want you and Ann to be very careful. Be sure the doors and windows are locked. Yeah. Ron and I will be there as quickly as we can. All right, Max. But it'd be nice if you hurried. Linda, what is it?

Jimmy Ferris has been murdered. Max thinks we may not be safe here. We're to make sure everything is locked. Too bad, Miss Jones. Mr. Zadig. Yes. What's the old adage about locking the barn door after the horse had been stolen? That fire escape is urgent. What do you want of us? A little conversation while we wait.

Wait for what? For Chandler to come. It's going to be very convenient to have you all together in one place. Convenient for what? We're getting you all out of my hair, Miss Jones. I feel it. Don't do that, Mrs. Potter. It would be very unwise of you to reach that phone. What are we going to do, Linda? Is... is it the man who is in the subway? Yes. Too bad about that, Miss Jones. If you hadn't struggled so on that platform, it would have been all over.

So quickly and without you really knowing what hit you. Linda, why do you want to kill me? I can't risk your having read what was on that telephone pad. I can't risk your having told Chandler. I tell you, I didn't see what was on that pad. I wish I could take your word. I can't. I keep telling you I... How soon will Chandler be here? I don't know. Well, we'll wait, that's all. Sit down, Miss Jones. Over there on the couch beside Mrs. Potter. You killed Rose Hillman, didn't you?

You framed it so that my husband was arrested, didn't you? It was almost successful, too. If it hadn't been for Miss Jones and Chandler taking a hand, it's a pity you couldn't have minded your own business. Murder is every decent citizen's business. Is that the Girl Scout manual, Miss Jones? Now, listen, both of you. When Chandler gets here, he'll ring the doorbell. You'll answer it, Mrs. Potter. Yes, I'll answer it, and I'll tell him. And you won't warn him that I'm here because if you do... Miss Jones...

We'll find it's very unpleasant to feel a knife blade driven into the flesh. Oh, it's all right to smoke while we wait, if you like. All right, Mrs. Potter. That'll be Chandler. Let him in. And remember what I told you. Linda, what'll I do? You'll have to let him in. I'm sorry, Linda. I'm going to stand just inside the living room door, Miss Jones.

If you try to warn Chandler, I promise you, the facts will be back. Hello, Aaron. Everything all right? It's all right, Mr. Ed. You don't have to look so frightened. Okay, Chandler, stand right where you are. Put your hands up if you don't want this knife in your heart. So, you did get here first, Zach. Yes, I got here first. So, you're not out. A gun isn't a necessary adjunct to radio broadcasting, Zach. Though, sometimes I think it would help, if it didn't. Okay. Now, sit down over there on the couch with the women.

Miss Jones, take this roll of adhesive tape. Tear off nine long strips of it, please. So we're to be bound and gagged. Yes. And after that... After that, that's just love there in the fireplace. Oh, Chandler, it's really a very pleasant way to die. It's painless.

Start tearing that adhesive tape, Miss Jones. Go ahead, Linda. How long have you been working for Kurt Schneider, Zack? So, Miss Jones did read what was on the telephone pad. No, but I was able to decipher the impression on the second sheet. I seem to have slipped up there. Harris took pictures of industrial plants, Sydney, machinery, that sort of thing. Must have had access to a lot of places. Yes, he did. Probably was able to take a lot of pictures he wasn't supposed to. Those were passed on to Kurt Schneider.

You seem to have it all figured out. Those pictures would be valuable to Snyder if the time came later for some sort of sabotage. How did Rose Gilman find out about it? You're really quite good at guessing, Chandler. Oh, thanks. Paris got drunk. Talked a little. Showed her things that he shouldn't. She cried blackmailing him. So you got her here and killed her. Bill Potter was just a fall guy for you. That's right. We sent Rose a message that Potter wanted to see her here.

Instead, I was waiting for her. How did you plan to get into the apartment? There are ways of opening doors. Fortunately, Mrs. Potter had left it on a latch. That's a bad habit housewives have. It's an invitation to steal. And murderers. You did kill Rose yourself. Yes. Too bad she was a cute kid. But she wasn't smart.

He's carrying that adhesive tape, Miss Jones. I don't think that'll be necessary, Linda. Mr. Zack isn't going to get to use it. What do you mean? I borrowed a bad habit from Mrs. Potter, Zack. I left the door on the labs when I came in. What? See, I couldn't take the risk that you wouldn't be here ahead of me. So I called Inspector Marsh. He and Rod are in the foyer. And Rod's been taking down your statement. He's been a court stenographer, you know. He's very good at it.

Now that we have your confession... Are you dirty? They certainly teach you to shoot on the police force, Inspector. That was right between the eyes. Mike, this is Kurt Schneider. His address was on the pad. Yeah, he got away, Rod. Evidently got cold feet earlier in the day and ran out. What man's that? I never saw anyone so cold-blooded. Yeah, I'm glad the big fish got away. I'd like to get Kurt Schneider.

He's one of the real whispermen. Well, there's much we can do about it. Well, they say the climate in South America is very pleasant this time of year. Oh, I smell one of those vacations coming up that isn't a vacation. Oh!

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My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

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For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But, well, the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. Mystery in the Air, starring Peter Lorre, presented by Camel Cigarettes. And it is now my great pleasure to confer our academic degree with honor on the most distinguished student of this class.

Roderick Raskolnikov, step forward. In the history of our university, there have been few young men who have compared with him in mental brilliance, and few for whom the future held greater promise. Well, Roderick, Roderick, I've spoken for the university. Now I want to speak for myself. As a token of the esteem in which I hold you and your abilities, I want to present you with this watch.

Thank you, sir. Well, read the inscription. Script, oh. To Roderick Raskolnikov, may his great gifts bring him the reward of honor and good fortune. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much. Roderick, my boy, I'm proud to have had you as one of us, and sad that you are leaving. Good luck to you, and God bless you.

Again tonight, Camel Cigarettes bring you Peter Lorre in the excitement of the great stories of the strange and unusual, of dark and compelling masterpieces culled from the four corners of world literature. Tonight, Crime and Punishment, adapted from the motion picture starring Peter Lorre and based on the novel by Theodore Dostoevsky.

Mystery in the Air, starring Peter Lorre, brought to you by Camel Cigarettes. So I, Roderick Raskolnikov, went to the city to achieve honor and good fortune. But one year later, I had achieved neither.

Oh, I had written one book, a book on crime, which I had to sell to a publisher for barely enough money to pay my first six-month rent. Oh, the reviews were very nice. Yes, one of them said, the subject is handled with such brilliance that one wonders whether it's the work of a genius or a great detective, or both. Genius or great detective. Can't eat reviews. All the time I was starving in a garret room. Come in.

Oh, it's you, Mrs. Barnum. Yes, it's me. I haven't had a penny out of you in six months. How much longer do you expect me to wait for my rent? Well, can you stand this train another half hour? Oh, so you're going to pay me in half an hour? Yes. Just how are you going to raise the money? Oh, that's very simple. I'm going to rob a bank. Think you're funny, huh? Well, I don't. You're a disgrace to my house. Maybe, but someday, someday they'll put a sign on this house that I, Raskolnikov, had the privilege of starving here.

The End

I beg your pardon. Is there a Pombroka? I think it's an old woman by the name of Leona. Does she live here? Yes. One more flight up. I'll show you. I'm going there myself. Thank you very much. May I carry your package? No. No, I can manage. It's this door here. Just ring the bell.

What do you want? Oh, it's you, Sonia. Come in. Who's this? One of your gentleman friends? No, I met him on the stairs. Well, what have you got this time? This. This Bible. Hmm. And where did you steal this? I didn't steal it. It's been in our family a long time. What do you want for it? The cover's inlaid with mother of pearl. Stones are garnets.

It's worth at least a hundred rubles. I'll give you six rubles for it. But I... If you don't want it, leave it. What have you got, mister? I have a watch. I'll take the six. Here you are. You said six rubles. You gave me one. That's right. Six rubles. Less three months' interest for your shawl and two months' on the necklace and silver buckles. That makes five rubles. Five from six is one ruble. Well, what are you waiting for? Want your Bible back?

No. Well, come on. Get out. Come on, little gutter snipe. All right, mister. Let me see your watch. Here. To Roderick Raskolnikov. That's me. May his great gifts bring him the reward of honor and good fortune. It's inscribed. I can't give you as much. I want 50 rubles on it. I'll give you 10. All right. Give me the 10.

There you are. What are you staring at? Don't look at me like that. I'm not looking. I'm not staring. I was watching you put the young lady's Bible in my watch into that trunk. That's all. But I've got nothing in here. Nothing but a lot of trash. A lot of trash. Get out of here. As you say. Come on.

Oh, forgive me. Oh, it's you, Miss Sonia. What are you looking for? My ruble. Dropped out of my hand when she pushed me out the door. Somebody ought to push her straight into the next world. What use is all that money to her? Is her miserly life worth a hundred others like yours, Sir Monod? I'd like to take her by the throat. You shouldn't say things like that. Oh, that black beetler. Here's your ruble. I found it.

You didn't find that? You took a ruble out of your pocket. I didn't know. I swear I didn't. Well, I... Thank you. I forgot there was still some kindness in the world. I forgot there... There was still some beauty in it.

What do you want at this hour? It's after midnight. It's me, Raskolnikov. Don't you remember? I've got a valuable vanity case this time. Fine, now. This is to come around with your rubbish. But come in. Let's see this valuable vanity case.

Here. It's heavy enough. What's it made of, lead? Gold. I'll believe that when I see it. Oh, what's the idea of making so many knots? I can't untie this thing. I'll show you the idea. Put on that poker! Put on that poker! I will! On your head, you... You dirty... You old... Hag! Ah!

Come in. Good morning, Miss Possum. Fine day, don't you think? Very fine day. I didn't come up here about the weather. Oh, no. Oh, it's about the money, yes. I'll have it today. I promise I'll have it today. Not about the money, either. About what? The money.

There's a policeman downstairs. Policeman? What is he? Here he is now. Ask him yourself. Are you the writer of Skolnikov? Yes. Well, come along with me. You're wanted at headquarters. There must be some mistake. Yes, there must be some mistake. I haven't done anything. What have I done? You'll find out when you get there. Come along. Come along.

Roderick Raskolnikov, trembling with fear, now stands before the clerk in the police station. Raskolnikov. Let's see.

Go ahead. You owe your landlady 30 rubles, and you'll refuse to vacate the premises. Is that why... Is that why I've been brought here? Yes. Are you going to pay, or must we throw you out? No, I... No, I...

I'll pay. I'll pay tomorrow. No, I... Oh, it's my rent. It's not funny. It's the rent, you see. Quiet, I say. 30 rubles. That's why I've been brought here. Stop that shouting. Now stop it. What's going on here? Who's that maniac? He's a writer.

Named Raskolnikov. Huh? Oh, Raskolnikov. Just the man I want to see. Me? Why, sir? I'm Inspector Porfiry. Oh, Commissioner. I read your excellent book about the crime criminals. Oh, you flatter me, sir. No, no, I really mean it.

You know, I thought I knew something about the subject, but your book put me and my staff in the kindergarten class. I must talk to you. Come into my office. Thank you, sir. By the way, perhaps you'd like to help us on a new murder case. It'll give you a chance to see how the blundering police work. A murder case? An old pawnbroker was killed last night. A well-known character named Leona. Yes, I've heard of her. Oh?

What do you know about him? Nothing. Nothing at all. Think you'll get him easily?

Guilty man? Who knows? We may have him now. What do you mean? We brought a man in this morning, a house painter. He had been working in a flat under Leona's. Do you think he did it? Well, it doesn't really matter. He was found with a pair of earrings. He had blood on his hands. Oh, of course he has an explanation for these things, but he'll do as a suspect just to keep our records clear. You mean that... Of course, of course. But come, come, let's discuss your book.

Let's see if your theory can be applied to this case. My theory? Yes. You wrote that ordinary men must obey the law because they are ordinary. But extraordinary men have the right to transgress the law. No. Isn't that right? No, no, no. Not exactly. What I said was that extraordinary men shouldn't be judged by ordinary standards. For example, take Napoleon. I doubt if Napoleon murdered the old pawnbroker.

Oh. I'm glad my theories give you a chance to be wicked. If your theory is right, it would make it a lot simpler for us policemen. If your extraordinary men had some distinguishing mark, say a medal or a ribbon, or a resemblance to Napoleon. What do you mean? Like yourself, for instance. But to get back to our murderer in this case, he was ordinary enough, all right? Nothing but a stupid coward. What do you mean?

If he hadn't been in a panic, he'd have found the old woman's money. Fifteen hundred rubles tucked away in the mattress. Instead, he took a lot of junk that's no use to him. And he can't unload it. I've got my men watching every outfit. Yes, Inspector, you've promised to show me your blundering police methods, and you certainly have. You're holding a man who is probably entirely innocent just to keep your records clear, huh? Well, the painter will do until the real murderer comes in, and he will come in.

He'll give himself up through fear. Fear of the law or of God. Oh, yes? In the meantime, I'll just wait. Oh, I admit I was furious, stupid, coward indeed. But then I realized that I wasn't a coward at all in the country. In facing the inspector so calmly, I'd learned not to be afraid.

Still, I needed money, and now I didn't dare to sell any of the old woman's stuff. I determined to try my newfound courage on a publisher of my book.

Sit down, Mr. Raskolnikov. I'm glad to see you. We had a very nice response on your book. Oh, that's good. I've almost finished another one. Oh, is that so? You might let us see it when it's done. Well, you see, as a matter of fact, another publisher, well, he has offered me an advance of 750 rubles on it. He has? Yes. Well, the pirate, you're my discovery. Well... Look, I'll give you a thousand rubles advance. How's that? Oh.

Oh, that's fine. That's wonderful. Yes, it's wonderful. I took the money. I paid my landlady in full. I bought myself a whole new outfit of clothes. Oh, I was riding on top of the world. But then a disturbing thought occurred to me. Of course, the inspector hadn't suspected me for a moment, but undoubtedly he would find my name in the old pawnbroker's books. He...

You might think you're curious. I hadn't mentioned it myself. I decided to go and see him again voluntarily. Yes, out of my own free will. That's what an innocent man would do. Or would he? Well, anyway, I'm going. I'm going.

The inspector will see you in just a moment. Thank you. I'm in no hurry. Well, Mr. Raskolnikov. Sonia, what are you doing here? The inspector sent for me. He returned my Bible. He asked me a few questions. Questions? What kind of questions? About the day I went to the pawnbroker. Did he want to know anything about me? Yes. What did you tell him?

About the money you gave me. Oh. And then he wanted to know. What? What did he want to know? Before I knew what had happened, he made me tell him what you said. Oh.

That she deserved to die? Well, she did, she... The inspector will see you now, Mr. Raskolnikov. Sonia, I must see you later. Where do you live? Catherine Street. First house from the bridge, second floor. I'll be over as soon as I can. Wait for me. This way, sir. Thank you. Ah, Mr. Raskolnikov. I am delighted to see you again. Come to claim my watch. Yes, sir.

Your watch? Come on, let's not beat around the bush. I hate to part with it, but I need the money, so... So I took it to the old woman and I... What old woman? Oh, you know, the palm broker, the one that... The one we were talking about. Oh. Oh, did you have dealings with her? Did I? You know I had. You know I was there. I'm... I mean, isn't my name in her book? Oh, wait a minute. I...

Why, so it is. Funny I didn't notice it. What are you trying to do, upset me? Upset me? No, not at all. And I'm sorry, but there's no watch listed among her effects. I'm afraid it's still in the murderer's possession. Well, thank you very much. I must be going now. Oh, by the way, that's a new suit, isn't it? Yes, it is. What of it? Why shouldn't I be wearing a new suit, huh? Things have taken a turn for the better, eh? Yes, things have taken a turn for the better. I sold another book. Congratulations. Congratulations.

I hope you'll have some theories in this one that'll help me solve this murder. We're still holding that poor wretch of a painter. Oh, oh. Your real murderer hasn't come in, huh? No, not yet. But I haven't given up hope. Oh, you're very optimistic. That's good. Suspect anyone in particular? Oh, I suspect anyone and everyone. That's good.

I'll admit now that for a time I even connected you with the murder. Me? Yes. You know how a policeman's mind functions. No, I don't. I began piecing things in a pattern. Your desperate poverty, the fact you almost fainted when I mentioned the murder the first time. Your talk of supermen being above the law. Oh, now I can see. Your going around town flashing all that money, which I didn't know until just now, came from your publisher. You had me followed, huh?

Well, a matter of routine. Yeah. Well, let me tell you something. If I were the guilty man, I'd be too smart to try to sell that junk. I'd have gone into the country and buried it under stone. You hear me? Yes, under a big heavy stone. So? Come on, accuse me of murder if you like, but

But don't insult me by believing that I'd overlook 1,500 rubles in a mattress. Try your clumsy methods on halfwits like that poor fool you're going to sacrifice just to keep your records clear. But I'm not accusing you.

I don't accuse a man I think is guilty if I have no proof. I just sit and wait. Yeah, you sit and wait. Stop playing this cat and mouse game with me. If you think you have a case against me, come on, arrest me or bring me to trial. I'll show you out. Inspector, this man just confessed. Yes, I confess. I'm guilty. I'm the murderer.

You're lying, you fool. You didn't kill her. I hit her over the head with a poker. I hate her. You idiot. You didn't even know about her until we arrested you. You didn't know anything about it until we beat it into you. Take him away, officer. He wants to go to Siberia that badly? I'm killing her. I'm killing her. Get him out of here. Oh, what a triumph for your methods, Inspector. First you tried to make him confess, and now you try to make him believe he's innocent. Ha, ha, ha.

Doesn't your conscience ever bother you? No. Let the real murderer suffer from his conscience, and it'll trouble him. He's no Napoleon. No, he's not hard enough. He'll come in, and I'll be waiting for him. I'll be waiting. Good luck. Who is it? It's me.

Oh, where have you been? Oh, I'm walking the streets. I don't know how long. I know it's late. I had to talk to you, Sonia. I may never see you again. You're going away? Yes. Where are you going? I don't know. Then why? Because I'm free now. Yes, I'm free. Free to go where I please and do what I please. Free? Yes.

From what? Police. They suspected me of the murder. Oh, it's all over now. Sonia, come away with me. Did they find the guilty man? They had him all along. He confessed this morning. Who was he? Oh, a painter who worked in a house. Why all these questions? Leave me alone. I've been questioning enough. Please put that Bible away. I don't want to be reminded of that old hag. And Jesus said...

Take away the stone. What stone? What stone are you talking about? How do you know I hid it under a stone? It's the stone under which Lazarus was buried. Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead man was. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, Father, thou hast heard me. And when he had thus spoken, he cried in a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. And he that was dead came forth. Sonia...

Sonia! You should kneel to me. Have mercy on me, Sonia. I killed that old woman. Yes, I killed her. Why did you do it? I was mad. What shall I do now? I don't know what to tell you. Because you have no faith.

But if I did have faith... Then I would tell you to confess. Huh? Atone for what you've done. Confess to the police? How else can you save the one who's being punished in your place? Confess and go to Siberia and rot in prison, Sonia? How can you ask me to do that? Because I love you. You love me, Sonia. I know. I know it now. You know, I have faith. You have given it to me. You have given it to me.

You've made me see myself, yes, as I really was, and just a coward who thought himself brave. All right, Sonia, I'll go and do as you say. Oh, my God, I'll wait for you. I'll always wait for you, forever. Come in. Good evening, Inspector.

Good evening, Raskolnikov. I've been expecting you. I've been expecting you for quite a long time. And now here is Peter Lorre for a final word. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, in a way, this is my final word because tonight our summer series of classic mysteries comes to a close.

I feel deeply grateful for your response to our efforts. Also, at this time, I'd like to thank our sponsor, Makers of Camel Cigarettes, for giving me the opportunity. And I certainly feel compelled to express my deep appreciation for all those men who have worked with me, especially our director, Mr. Cal Kuhn. Next Thursday night, Camel's Bob Hawk Show, one of America's favorite quiz shows, will be heard over these same NBC stations.

They tell me Mr. Hawk doesn't murder anybody. Oh, he just quizzes them. Well, to each his own. Good night.

Crime and Punishment has been adapted from the screenplay Crime and Punishment by arrangement with Columbia Pictures, producers of the Technicolor musical Down to Earth. Listen next Thursday at 10 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, 9 p.m. Central Standard Time, 8 p.m. Mountain Time, and 7 p.m. Pacific Time for the Bob Hawks show over these same NBC stations.

Music for Mystery in the Air was composed and conducted by Paul Barron. The artists supporting Mr. Lorry tonight were Henry Morgan, Peggy Weber, Joe Kearns, Ben Wright, Louis Van Rooten, Gloria Ann Simpson, and Herbert Butterfield. This is Michael Roy in Hollywood wishing you all a pleasant good night for Camel. This is NBC, the national broadcast and company. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition.

Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

At the same time, convenience is still crucial for me. I am busier now than I've ever been in my life, so eating food fast without eating fast food is a bit of a challenge. Was a bit of a challenge. With Factor, I get to check both of those off my list. I just heat it up, and two minutes later, I'm sticking a fork in it.

Factor is more than convenient though. I don't even have to jump into my car to go through a drive-thru or pay a bunch of extra money so I can wait 30 minutes to an hour for a delivery app to come through for me. Factor meals arrive directly at my door, fresh and ready to eat. And with my new weight loss goals, the menu options are a real bonus. They have gourmet meals if I want to be calorie smart or pack on the protein, go keto and more. They have 45 weekly menu options.

How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

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She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

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For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. My guess is that you've heard a lot of people talking about Factor, the two-minute meals packed with nutrition. Up until recently, though, I didn't really care much about nutrition. I was into convenience. Burgers, pizza, you get the drift. But, well, the older you get, the more you realize nutrition is kind of important.

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How many weeks are there in a year? 52? Yeah, that's pretty dang close to a different menu for each week. I can use Factor for breakfast, quick lunches, premium dinners, even guilt-free snacks and desserts. Imagine that. Snacking without guilt. I didn't think that was possible. If you'd like to join me on this journey, you can visit factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping in your first box.

That's factormeals.com slash darkness50off, then use the code darkness50off to get 50% off and free shipping. I'm not big on trends, never really have been, so I can't be trusted when it comes to clothes shopping for others. I'm married to someone who does understand what looks good.

Quince.com asked me to endorse them on Weird Darkness, and at first I thought, eh, that's a bad idea, for reasons I've already laid out. But I let my bride check out their website, and, well, she immediately started shopping for Christmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, Just Because Day, apparently that's a real thing, and now she keeps going back to Quince.com. Their lightweight layers and high-quality staples have become a go-to place for everyday essentials now.

Quince has all the things you actually want to wear this summer, like organic cotton silk polos, European linen beach shorts, and comfortable pants that work for everything from backyard hangs to nice dinners. And the best part? Everything with Quince is half the cost of similar brands.

They work directly with top artisans, so they cut out the middlemen. And Quince gives you luxury pieces without the markups. And Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. I honestly didn't think I needed Quince.com, but Robin says, yeah, I do. Desperately. I think that means she'll be buying some clothes there for me, too.

She's tired of seeing 98% of my closet being weird darkness t-shirts. Go figure. She's also making me out to be the hero in front of my nieces. We got a cute little toddler-sized poplin-smocked flutter-sleeve dress for my youngest great-niece, complete with pink puppies for the pattern. It's adorable, I'll admit that. We got a pair of cotton-stretched skinny jeans coming from my newly-teenaged great-niece, along with a set of organic cotton long-sleeve and pants pajamas.

My oldest niece, the mom in the family, is getting a pair of ultra-soft high-rise pocket leggings. Emphasis on pocket. That's a pet peeve of my bride. She refuses to buy pants without pockets. And we're also sending a pair of ultra-form high-rise leggings. I would look horrible in all of this stuff, but the ladies in the family are going to look awesome. Of course, we'll be going back to quince.com in the next few days to begin shopping for the nephews.

I'm not allowed to pick out those clothes either. Robin just does not trust me. Good call. Stick to the staples that last with elevated essentials from Quince. Go to quince.com slash weirddarkness for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's quince, Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash weirddarkness to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash weirddarkness

Okay, yeah, I got to admit, this T-shirt is kind of fading. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive could save hundreds. With that kind of money, you could go big time on a fancy water bottle with Ultra Titanium Alloy Metal. You're not sure why you need all that. I mean, it just holds water. But you're getting it anyway, because if you're hiking near an active volcano and you accidentally drop the bottle into molten lava, your water will still be icy cold. Switch to Progressive and you could save big time.

For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. And now the Mole Mystery Theater. Presented by M-O-L-L-E. Mole. The heavier brushless shaving cream for tender skin. Good evening. This is Jeffrey Barnes. Welcoming you to the program that presents the best in mystery and detective fiction.

The story I have selected for tonight's program was received with so much acclaim when we first presented it last year that we are bringing it to you again this evening. It is a story that deserves to be ranked with the greatest classic mystery stories of all time. Thomas Burke's The Hands of Mr. Outermore. It concerns a Jack the Ripper sort of character who in the year 1890 terrorized the city of London with a series of brutal murders.

Arnold Moss, star of the recent Broadway presentation of The Tempest. We'll narrate. Pardon my ignorance, Mr. Barnes, but what is a Jack the Ripper sort of character anyway? Well, Dan, he's a fellow who just can't help murdering. Oh, I know, like a man with tough whiskers or a tender skin. You know, he can't help murdering himself every time he shaves. That is, unless he uses Molay, the heavier, brushless shaving cream. Yes, sir, man, with Molay, it's smooth.

So smooth. It's slick. So slick. It's a smooth, smooth, slick, slick shave you get with M-O-L-L-E. Molay, the heavier brushless shaving cream for tender skins. That's right. Molay is the cream you need if you have a wiry, hard-to-cut beard or a tender skin. Because it is heavier, Molay not only softens your whiskers, it stands them up straight, lets your razor take them right off.

so you get a smooth, slick shave every time. Yes, you shave faster, closer, easier, and you shave painlessly with Molay, the heavier brushless shaving cream for tender skins. And now for tonight's Molay mystery starring Arnold Moss, The Hands of Mr. Ottermoor. Have you ever thought you might like to kill someone? Have you ever thought someone might like to kill you?

Not murder for the usual motives, you understand. Not murder for greed or hate or frustration. But a killing without reason, without motive. Murder of this kind happens so simply and so unaccountably. Two ordinary people are walking down the street, minding their own business, even as you or I, and suddenly, why, no one knows. One becomes a murderer, and the other becomes a victim. Take Mr. Weibrauch, for example.

Mr. Weibrau doesn't know it, but he's about to be murdered. Oh, he's just an ordinary fellow, Mr. Weibrau, walking home from work at the present evening, strolling casually through the cobweb alleys of London's East End. It's the spring of 1890, and Mr. Weibrau has nothing more important on his mind than buying the evening papers.

Good evening, James. Good evening, Mr. Wybrow. Things are pretty quiet. No murders or anything in the papers, sir? Oh, one or two last knees, but no killing, sir. It's a shame they can't schedule a good murder every two or three weeks. It helps the sale of papers, it does. People sure likes to read about murder. For my part, I'm just as happy there aren't any murders. It's a good thing when people respect law and order. Well, here's your paper, Mr. Wybrow. I'll see you tomorrow night. Bye.

But murder isn't something you just read about in the papers, Mr. Weibrau. Murder is something that happens to people, something final and violent. And tomorrow night, other people coming home from work will find your name in the paper. And your death will help the sale of James' newspapers. For at this very moment, as you walk down Largo Street, a man has begun to follow you.

This man following you, Mr. Weibrauch, he isn't a bad man. In fact, he passes everywhere as a respectable man, as most criminals do. But the thought has come into his moldering mind that he'd like to kill someone. And, being without conscience, he's going to do it. And then go home to tea.

Yes, Mr. Weibrau, murderers do eat the same sort of food you and I eat. Even the same sort of fish you've stopped in to buy on your way home from work in accordance with Mrs. Weibrau's instructions. Evening, Mr. Weibrau. What'll it be tonight? The missus thought a little attic would be nice. How's this one here, sir? Kind of small, but I guess it'll be all right. Wrap it up for me, will you? Right away.

Now you've got company, Mr. Weibauer. The man who's about to kill you is just coming into the same fist. Don't turn away. Look at him. That's right. There's nothing unusual about him, is there?

You've seen him before? Nice night, isn't it, Mr. Ossimor? Haven't seen you around in some time. I guess it's because I've been coming home from the shop earlier. Here's your attic, Mr. Weibrau. All wrapped and ready. Very speedy of you. Just charge it, huh? I'll be in to pay you the first of next week. Oh, and good night to you, Mr. Ossimor. Quiet, but friendly sort of fellow, your murderer, isn't he, Mr. Weibrau?

Yes, it's a friendly world. So take your fish and leave the market and go on to your rendezvous with death. You're almost home now, Mr. Weibrau, but don't hurry so much. Take a look around you. It's your last look at the world. And if you knew it, you'd look at it more closely.

The more slowly you walk, the longer you'll enjoy the fragrant air of this evening, the longer you'll see the dreamy lamplight of the shops. Pause a minute before you cross Loyal Lane. Pause among the houses that shelter the useless and beaten of London's camp followers. Hear the music of the people in the streets. It's the last time, Mr. Weibrau, the very last time. ♪♪

Now, Mr. Weibrau, there's only a minute or two on earth left for you. You've turned into your own street now. And right behind you is your murderer. Listen. Don't you hear something in his footfalls?

Can't you hear something that cries out... beware, here comes death, here comes murder? No. No, there's no warning in footfalls. They're neutral. The foot of villainy falls with the same note as the foot of honesty. All right, Mr. Weibrau. Go into your house. Is that you, dear? Yes, it's me, all right. Did you remember to get the fish? I did.

I remembered all right. Good. Put it on the table, then. I'll be ready with tea in just a minute. Oh, is that someone at the door, dear? Yes, dear. I'll answer it. Go away from that door. Don't touch it. Get as far away from it as possible. Go out of the back door. Run to the garden. Over the fence. Call the neighbors. But don't touch that door. For on the other side is death.

Why, hello. I didn't expect to see you again tonight. Something wrong? Come in. Here, I'll get a chair for you. I say, what are you doing? Just... What are you...

Henry? Henry, is that one of your friends? Invite him to stay for a small tea.

I say, Crane, is this all you've been able to find out about the Weibraugh murder? As editor of this paper, I expect... Well, it's a baffling case, sir. There he was, strangled to death, and absolutely no one around could have done it. Now, now, now, Mr. Crane, somebody must have been there. Well, if you think it's so easy, let me be the editor for a while, and you be the reporter. Now, whoever did this murder disappeared like magic. Mr. Weibraugh was seen by the neighbors to enter his house at the usual time.

Now, there was a policeman at the end of the street. He saw no one else enter or leave the house, but suddenly screams were heard. Then the policeman's whistle. Well, the criminal must have got there some way. He couldn't just fly in and out. You'd better go over to police headquarters and see what they know. Very well, sir. Yes, Mr. Crane. It certainly is a baffling case. But this is only the beginning.

Even now, Mr. Crane, as you're on your way to police headquarters, the killer you seek is stalking another victim. The murder of Mr. Weibrau has only whetted the appetite of our killer. He wants to try it again and again for his own pleasure in killing. And his conscience doesn't bother him one little bit.

As the curtain falls on Act One of tonight's Mole Mystery, a mysterious killer is at large on the streets of London, and where he will strike next, nobody knows. Why, Mr. Barnes, don't tell me you can't see a murder coming. Well, no, Dan, that's practically impossible. Not all the time. Why, some men can see murder coming every time they stand before the mirror to shave. And say, men, if you can't see a murder coming,

If that's how it is with you, chances are you have wiry whiskers or a tender skin. But you know shaving needn't be painful, not if you shave with Molay, the heavier brushless shaving cream. That's right. Molay is the heavier cream that gives you a smooth, slick shave. Because Molay is heavier, it not only softens your whiskers, it stands them up straight and lets your razor cut them off close and clean.

With Molle, you shave faster, closer, easier, and you shave painlessly. Try it. See if you don't say, it's smooth, so smooth. It's slick, so slick. It's a smooth, smooth, slick, slick shave you get with M-O-L-L-E. Molle, the heavier brushless shaving cream for tender skins. Molle.

And now this is Geoffrey Barnes returning you to Act Two of The Hands of Mr. Uttermore. The murder of Mr. Wybrow in London of 1890 was called the London Strangling Horror because it was something more than murder. It was motiveless, and there was an air of black magic about it. For no one had seen or heard the killer, and it was as though he'd disappeared into thin air.

And now, as the sun fades and night deepens on a strange dark street, the killer prowls again, and victim number two has run out of time. Now, listen to that. I've no notion it's reached that hour.

I've kept you out too late again, Jane. Oh, go on. No, it's you that should be getting to bed. What with your work to go to so early. Let's put you on the tram car here. I've only half a block to run home. You'll be all right? Oh, why shouldn't I? Only half a block to go home, really. But that's strangling the other day. Oh, don't you worry about me. Oh, listen, here comes your tram car now. Oh, it's hard to say goodnight. Oh, no, but I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget, same time. Oh.

Hurry up. Now, get on board. Good night, Janie. Best love. Good night to you. Good night. That's your last goodbye, Janie. Your very last. For down the street in the shadow of a doorway is the strangler. Even as you walk down the street, his footsteps have begun to echo along with yours. Do you hear them, Janie? Nothing menacing about them, is there?

Then why do you feel frightened all of a sudden? Why have you started to walk faster? Are you afraid of a pair of footsteps? Well, you're right to be afraid of them. So put your head down and run. Don't look back. Don't look back. Janie, don't stop. Don't even speak to him.

Oh. Oh, it's... Tell me, you are... I don't know what's wrong with me. I started to walk fast. Scared, I guess I was, but... I don't guess anybody can be scared of you. Hey. What are you... What do you think you're doing? Hey. What do you think you are, anyway? I...

Now see here, Constable MacDonald. A young woman in the prime of her youth. Brutally strangled and in front of her own home. I say it's right. My newspaper is demanding action. The strangler must be found. Then you find him, Mr. Crane. There's absolutely no clue. Once again he's disappeared like a whiff of smoke. Don't worry. I'll find him if I have to spend the rest of my life doing it. The End

That's only murder number two, Mr. Crane. There are to be more of these stranglings, and each will be committed at a time when the streets are empty of any perceptible or possible murderer. Wherever people meet, in the streets, markets, shops, they discuss the one topic, murder. They bolt their doors and windows at the first fall of dusk, and they yield to apprehension and dismay.

For by the whim of one man with a pair of powerful hands, the structure of their daily life is shaken.

You mark my words, Alf. It's them gypsies what's responsible for these murders. Them eastern fellas. They know plenty of tricks. I've heard sailors tell of how they make themselves invisible. How they have potions that make anything possible. The only way to stop these stranglings is to drive them gypsies out of London. There's no panic. Panic rules the population.

And no one in London feels safe unless there's a policeman somewhere around. But policemen are only human. The same as the rest of us. It's possible to strangle a policeman, too. And then, then, where does safety lie? That's right. Victim number three is Constable MacDonald, who stops to talk with an old friend. Hey! Oh, it's only you. Give me a start. All night long I've been walking this here deserted street...

Every once in a while, the stranger approaches, the same as you've done. And I tighten my grip on my nightstick. I kept looking around so much, I've got a crick on the back of my neck. Maybe if you'd just run your hand over it a little, it'd help some. Right here. That's where it goes. No, easy. Ah. Uh, here. Here. What are you doing? Let go of me. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

When these London strangling horrors reach three, they're almost over, but there's to be one more, one more, and no one is ever to know the identity of the murderer. That is, no one but two men, the murderer himself and our young newspaper friend, Mr. Crane.

And fate has a strange trick to play on Mr. Crane, as fate sometimes does. Sergeant. Oh, uh, Sergeant. Oh, evening, Mr. Crane. I've a few questions I'd like to ask you, Sergeant. These three stranglings, you discovered all of the bodies, didn't you? No, not exactly. I discovered Mr. Wybrow's body, and I discovered Constable MacDonald's body...

Uh, the girl, I got there just after she'd been found. You didn't see anything? You didn't see anybody? I'll swear on my life, there was no one around. But how could the killer get away so quickly? Is it possible that he could have hidden right at the scene of the crime? No, sir. We went over every bit of the White Browse. No one could have hidden there. McDonald was killed in the street. No one could hide there, of course.

As for the girl, it was unlikely anyone could hide nearby with a crowd around. That's what I want to know, Sergeant. Did a crowd form immediately after each murder? You know how people are, Mr. Crine. Let them hear a policeman's whistle and they all come running to see what's up. Do you think that has something to do with the murder, sir? Might have and it might not. Thank you very much, Sergeant. I'll commend you to the inspector. Thank you.

These questions you're asking, Mr. Crane, what are they leading to? What idea is trying to shape itself in your mind? Do you think you're going to uncover the identity of the strangler? Men with more intelligence than you have been trying to solve it and failed. And the closer you come to finding out the killer, the closer you come to your own death. So don't think about it. Walk down the street, go into the music hall, where you can forget all these questions. Murder.

Oh,

Here you are, Mr. Crane. Ham sandwich and a glass of ale. Oh, just a minute, waiter. Look at this ham. Why, it's nothing but fat. Well, I didn't make the sandwich, sir. Oh, now, look here. Are you trying to tell me that this establishment isn't responsible for its food? After all, the ham is there. Somebody had to put it there. It just didn't fly in by itself and...

George, that's it. That's what, Mr. Gray? Oh, it's you, Mr. Editor. Sit down. I think I've solved the mystery of the strangling murders. What? What's that? Yes. I just saw a vision in my ham sandwich. A vision? How did the ham get into this sandwich? Oh, you fool. Somebody put it there. Precisely.

And three persons have been strangled. Therefore, somebody had to be there to do it. Ah, you have a genius for the obvious. Yes, and it's obvious the only way the murderer could escape was either by running away... Yes? ...or by standing still. Standing still? Standing still, so he wouldn't be conspicuous. Here, here, wait a minute. Where are you going? Out into the street, sir. Out into the street to discover the man who could stand still the best. ♪♪

This is Jeffrey Barnes again. In just a moment, we'll bring you Act Three of The Hands of Mr. Ottermoor. When you have dandruff, you might just as well try to combat it with plain water as with many ordinary hair preparations.

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Your ham sandwich has told you a good deal about the strangler, Mr. Crane. You're getting very close to him now. As you leave the music hall and think over and over to yourself, who can stand still best and attract the least attention? The answer comes to you. Why are you being so heroic, Mr. Crane? You're on a dark, lonely street now. It isn't necessary for you to bring the murderer in single-handedly. Look. There's a police station across the street. Run over to get help.

All right, then. Go on by yourself.

Be a hero. Snuff out your own life merely to prove that a vision you saw in a ham sandwich is the correct one. Go ahead. Turn the corner now and confront the Strangler. Good evening. Oh, good evening, Mr. Cline. Have you dug up any new evidence about the murder since I spoke to you the other day? No, nor has anyone else. Really? Now, as man to man, tell me why.

Just why did you kill all those innocent people, Police Sergeant Ottermole? God, you can't believe I did it. It couldn't be anybody else. You were present or nearby when each of the bodies was found. There wasn't time for anyone to escape the scene of the crimes. Therefore, the strangler escaped by standing still. God. And who could stand still? Who could be more inconspicuous in a crowd than a policeman? Than you, Sergeant Ottermole. You think that's pretty clever, don't you?

You won't tell anybody about this. Stand back. I thought you might get robbed, so I brought along this gun. Try anything and I'll use it. All right. Don't worry then. I'm not going to try to get away, Mr. Crane. I know when the game's up. But there's still one thing I've got to know. Why? Why did you do it? I don't know exactly. But I've got an idea.

Everybody knows we can't control the workings of our minds, don't they, Mr. Crane? So they say. That's right. Ideas come into our minds without asking. Yet everybody's supposed to be able to control his body. Why? We get our minds from Lord knows where.

Maybe from people dead a hundred years before we were born. Yes. Yes, go on. Well, might we get our bodies in the same way? Can't ideas live in nerve and muscle as well as in brain? Couldn't it be that parts of our bodies aren't really us? And couldn't ideas come into those parts all of a sudden? I take my hands...

Look at them. See how big and strong they are. Well, couldn't hands like these suddenly get the idea to choke things?

Like this? Let go of me. Let go or I'll shoot. I told you they're good ideas. Ideas to choke me. Give me that gun, Mr. Crine. You're breaking my wrist. Drop that gun. Big beast. I've shot you twice.

Why don't you die? But it's my hands that's strangling you, Mr. Crine. No. My hands. Don't. Don't. My hands. Mr. Crine. No.

The next morning, two men were found in the same street. Mr. Crane, the reporter. Mr. Ottermole, the police sergeant. But very much the same in one important respect. They were both very dead. Yes, and the strangler has been found out. But that's not the end. For fate still has its ironical prank to play on Mr. Crane. Poor Mr. Crane.

Six months after his death, a proclamation was made by the Lord Mayor of London. Whereas the stranglings in London's East End suddenly and strangely came to a halt, it can only be concluded that the strangler died or was killed.

In consideration of certain evidence, it has been decided that the strangler was undoubtedly a certain reporter named James N. Crane. And it is poetic justice of the most exalted kind that this strangler himself finally met his death by strangling. Therefore, I have ordered a special bronze medal struck in memory of the man who freed London of this horror and gave his life in so doing. Police Sergeant Ottomol. In memory of Police Sergeant...

And now this is Jeffrey Barnes again, inviting you to be with us next week when we present Patricia Wentworth's In the Balance, starring Jim Amici. The original music for the Mole Mystery Theater is composed and conducted by Alexander Semler.

The Hands of Mr. Ottermole was written by Thomas Burke and adapted for radio by L.K. Hoffman. Arnold Moss was featured in tonight's program. This is Dan Seymour saying goodnight until next Friday at this same time when the Mystery Theater presents In the Balance. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.

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

WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can listen to free audiobooks I've narrated, get the email newsletter, visit the store for creepy and cool Weird Darkness merchandise. Plus, it's where you can find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression, addiction, or thoughts of harming yourself or others. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com.

I'm Darren Marlar, thanks for joining me for tonight's retro radio, old time radio in the dark. Hold the kaleidoscope to your eye, peer inside. One twist changes everything. A woman awakens in a grotesque, human-sized arcade game. A mysterious cigar box purchased at a farmer's market releases an ancient djinn who demands a replacement prisoner.

An elderly woman possesses the terrifying power to inflict pain through handmade dolls. An exclusive restaurant's sinister secret menu includes murder-for-hire and harvested organs. With each turn through these 20 tales, Reddit NoSleep favorite AP Royal reshapes reality, creating dazzling patterns of horror that entrance as they terrify.

The Kaleidoscope, 20 Terrifying Tales of Horror and the Supernatural by A.P. Royal, narrated by Darren Marlar. Hear a free sample on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com. Now there's a new way to share Weird Darkness with the weirdos in your life. It's a skill on your Amazon Echo device.

Just say, play Weird Darkness, and you'll immediately start hearing the newest episode. With your Amazon Echo or smart device, you can let me keep you company all day and all night. And it's easy to tell your friends how to tune in, too. Just tell your Amazon device, play Weird Darkness, to start listening.

Do you like my horror-able humor episodes called Mind of Marler? If so, and you'd like more, it now has its very own podcast. Comedic creeps, sarcastic scares, frivolous frights, macabre madness. Every week I dive into strange history, twisted true crime, and paranormal weirdness. All the stuff you'd expect from me on Weird Darkness, but delivered with dark comedy, satire, and just the right amount of absurdity.

Monsters, myths, mysteries, mirth, and more every Monday with Mind of Marler. I like alliteration, can you tell? You can find a list of where you can subscribe to the podcast at WeirdDarkness.com under the menu tab for podcasts.