ASSASSINATION IN TIME: Can They Save Lincoln From His Historic Fate? Should They?
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The Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Inner Sanctum. Light. The Seal. Presents 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 that I've narrated. Plus, you can visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you're struggling with depression, dark thoughts, or addiction. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com.

Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into tonight's retro radio, old-time radio in the dark. The CBS Radio Mystery Theater presents... ♪♪

Come in. Welcome. Welcome.

I'm E.G. Marshall. William Shakespeare's place as a poet is secure for all the ages. Yes, sometimes his towering reputation tends to scare away ordinary people. Strangely enough, the very people he wrote for, whom he fondly called the groundlings, because to watch his plays, they swarmed to fill the floor of the theater where they had to stand.

What drew them there? Plays of such fury, terror, excitement, suspense, and magic as the one you hear now. What did he say, Brutus? He was just playing with words, Caesar. I don't mean Cassius. I meant that voice I heard above the crowd. You didn't hear it, Brutus? No. Cassius? Nor I. Antony? Yes, I heard him. And his words? He said, Caesar, beware.

Beware the Ides of March. Our mystery drama, The Assassination, was adapted from William Shakespeare's great classic play, Julius Caesar, especially for the Mystery Theater by Ian Martin and stars Norman Rose and Robert Dryden.

It is sponsored in part by Buick Motor Division and Allied Van Lines. I'll be back shortly with Act One.

In our era of politics, the manipulation of mass emotions by all media, the tragedy of civil war and countries divided against themselves, perhaps no story that William Shakespeare dramatized is more timely than the fall of his benevolent dictator, Julius Caesar, and the consequent and ultimate disaster of civil war.

This is the story of Julius Caesar as William Shakespeare shaped it. Not in his words, but the pattern of the plot.

I swear by the time we press through this crowd, the races will be over, Marcus Antony. The people gather wherever you go to show their love for you, Great Caesar. I sometimes wish they were a little less faithful. No, no, no, I didn't mean that. Whatever love they have for me, I return to the citizens of Rome, to

To them, you are Rome. If that's true, then I am theirs. Even Calpurnia claims they come before her in my thoughts. The fate of any politician's wife. Am I not right, Brutus? Wouldn't Portia agree with me? You must ask my wife that yourself.

For myself, I dare not. Oh, come now. You men are all the same. Oh, there you are wrong. Caesar stands head and shoulders above the rest of us. You see, you are no politician's wife. Ah? What am I, then? A statesman's wife. Or maybe more than that. What did you say, Cassius? I? Only agreeing with you, Brutus. What did he say? Cassius? Oh, he was just playing with words. I don't mean him. I meant that voice I heard above the crowd.

The one who shouted at me. They all shout for you. This one could be heard above all the rest. A warning. You didn't hear it, Brutus? No. Cassius? No. Antony? Yes, I heard him. And his words? He said, beware the Ides of March. That's what I heard. Was he a great, huge man with a beard street gray and piercing eyes? Yes, I think that one there. Oh, no! Oh!

What frightens you, dear? I know him. A soothsayer. A man with second sight. Then we should take his first sight from him if he threatens Caesar. Let's not spoil a festive day. Leave him with his dreams. Besides, he warns of tomorrow. And today, the race is awaiting. Come, let us go. Caesar, you are not going to stir from the house tomorrow just the same. We shall see.

Aren't you going to the course, Brutus? I'm not a gambling man like Antony or Caesar. Don't let me keep you, Cassius. No, I want to talk to you a moment, if I may. Why not? We are friends. I hope. Lately, I haven't been so sure, Brutus. Why? Somehow you seem to avoid my eyes when we meet as if something lay between us. Does it show so openly? Yes. I can't believe it. Can you see your own face?

Well, the eye doesn't see itself, except by reflection. Too bad. What? That you have no mirrors that will reflect not only your face, but the thoughts and the man that lie behind it. Hail Caesar! What is that? I think you know. I'm afraid I do. They want to make Caesar king. And you want that no more than I do? Not from personal ambition. I have better reasons.

What were you trying to tell me before you heard that shout? And what did you mean, except by reflection? That. Him. Caesar. Cassius, I don't know if I like what you seem to be trying to draw me into. Brutus, I must. Today Julius Caesar administers the state. Tomorrow he could rule it. And after that what? Do we make him a god? Tell the truth. Isn't that what worries you? Ah, yes. It should. It should.

I am trying to tell you that you are a greater man than Caesar, even myself. Ambition in you, Cassius, beyond all the triumphs you've already had as a soldier? I was born as free as Caesar as you were. And I mean to keep my freedom. I'm as good a man and better.

One day in full armor, he dared me to swim with him across the Tiber. I plunged straight in and he followed. But halfway across, he was crying out, Help me, Cassius, I'm sinking. And I had to drag us both to shore. And now, suddenly, he is a god and I have to kneel to him. Now, Cassius, be fair. None of this has happened yet. And you may easily be starting at shadows. Help me, Cassius! Help me, Cassius!

But listen. Some new honors being awarded him. Brutus, the man imagines himself a giant with the world at his feet. And small men like you and me are little better than slaves. The tide of the times. No. Men can be masters of their fates. The fault lies not in our stars, but in ourselves if we are slaves. Brutus and Caesar. Which name sounds better? Write them, say them, conjure with them.

Brutus, you are as well loved and respected in Rome. What meat does Caesar eat that he is grown so great? I knew you once when you would have faced the devil to keep your rightful place in Rome. Enough, Cassius. Enough. What you have said, you have said out of friendship. As much for our country as for you. I know that. And in fairness, I will admit what troubles you is heavy on my mind as well. Hail Caesar!

I'm glad my words have shaken you more than they'll ever know you to. Not half so much, perhaps, as the worship from the crowd. What have they offered him now? Shh, the race is over and he's coming. We'll take sour old Casca aside and find out. Caesar looks angry and Calpurnia pale and worried. And all the rest, even into me, look shaken. Well, no matter. Casca will tell us all.

If you are one of us. Don't push me too hard, Cassius. I need time to reflect. Caesar, why? Why did you not accept? It was scarcely the most opportune moment. Damn my failing. Oh, you give too much of yourself. You need rest. Caesar, what is it? The strangest thought has crossed my mind. I think I would like to have around me only men who are fat.

and lazy, and like to sleep. Cassius there has nothing but muscle on his bones. He's lean and looks hungry to me, like a wolf. Well, surely you have nothing to fear from him? He's a noble Roman and one of us? Perhaps. He never relaxes, cares little for music or plays or games as you and I do. He is a... What shall I say? A secret man. No, no. Maybe better...

A private man. You don't trust Cassius? I get a sense that he is dangerous. I must get home to Calpurnia. Come on my right side to my good ear and tell me what you think of Cassius. Oh, Cascais.

Tell me what happened in the forum. No sooner were they on the dais with all the crowd pressing round than his faithful doormat, Mark Antony, would lie down and let him wipe his feet on him, if Caesar asked, offered him a crown. A crown? Not exactly. A coronet of leaves. But there was no mistaking it.

He was testing the public mood. For my money, Caesar was, too. Oh. You heard the mob. They screamed for him to accept, but he put it aside as if he wasn't worthy of the honor.

Though I, standing beside him, could smell how much he desired it. And the crowd accepted his refusal? Are you mad? It was like an audience at a play. They were all the more determined to see him crowned. So Anthony offered it again. He was working them up to a frenzy. And himself, you can be sure that Anthony and he had plotted the whole thing between them. So...

But when it was handed to him a third time... Caesar took it? Well, I'm sure he planned to, but suddenly he fell down. Frothing at the mouth and twitching as though he'd been run through by a sword. Well, bless the timing that he was taken by the falling sickness. We will not be so lucky again. And we should be ashamed that we are men of no resolve. We have our own sickness...

The failing sickness. What is more fickle than the public? Then we must move fast to bring him down. Faster than you think. The word is that tomorrow in the Senate they mean to vote Julius Caesar king. He will wear that crown. I know where I will wear this dagger.

I will be no man's slave. Nor I. The gods speak in anger, too. A good omen for us. Are we enough to carry it through? Yourself, myself, Trebonius, Ligarius, Decius, Metellus, Cimber, and Cinna. Seven we can count on. If we were 17 or 70, we wouldn't be enough without... Yes, without Brutus. He's the key. Hmm.

Can we win him to your cause? He is three quarters of the way our man already. We need only some... some device to tip the scales. Can he be bought? No, no, no, no. I don't mean with gold. With power. No, he's too honest a man to care for either. There is no such a man. Everyone has his price.

I know how to make Brutus one of us. Yes, to lend his name and leadership so the sheep may run for us and not for Caesar. How? We must all together write messages as though they came from the common people. Wrap them in stones and fling them through his windows tonight. What messages? Messages that call for the downfall of Caesar before he makes himself a god. And the common man of Rome spends the rest of his life in slavery. Let Rome remain a republic and let us be free men.

That's all I ask to fight for. Then we all stand with you. So we abound in blood. And no man bears the blame alone. And we make sure that death is killed. Dead.

Did you see and hear that? See what? Above the Capitol. All shimmering with fire about him like a halo, and great forked bolts of lightning shooting from his hands. The soothsayer, pointing towards Caesar's palace. Soothsayer? The one who cried out to Caesar on the way to the races, beware the Ides of March. I didn't see him. I'm less superstitious than you, but I will take it as an omen.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is marked for Caesar's fall. The gods themselves demand it. We are only the instruments of his revenge. Then we'll meet at daybreak before Brutus' house. And if I know my friend, who by then must think the people as well as us have condemned Julius Caesar, then he will lead us to the assassination. The End

Over 2,000 years ago, the world was as troubled as it is now. But what is desperately sad is that the struggle for power and the motives of the men who waged it have changed so little. I shall return shortly with Act Two. ♪♪

The night before the prophesied doom of the Ides of March, the elements provide a fit setting for the gathering storm.

That 15th of the month, the city of Rome is wracked by a wild electrical storm. A storm that disturbs everyone's sleep. Brutus, disturbed enough himself, is kept awake by his frightened wife, Portia. And while Brutus wrestles with his conscience, he finds no sleep.

as Cassius, Casca, and the other conspirators hurl messages, presumably from the people, through the windows of his house. How can I sleep?

Facing the fact that if I will not see Caesar made a king, no more than that an emperor, I have to face that other fact that he must die. Oh, still another petition, and this time breaking my favorite urn. Are you asleep, Brutus?

Awake yourself. Must Rome lie prostrate under a tyrant's foot? Are you not man enough to come forward and save the Republic? My lord, what was that crash I heard? Portia, my darling, sleep while you can. It's nothing to worry about. Oh, no, not the Grecian urn. Shattered in pieces. Oh, why? Oh.

Another stone through the window? Another message? It seems that few can sleep tonight. Few? Oh, what's happening, Brutus? It's only a matter of state. It can quickly be resolved. We need to be in shape for tomorrow's events. Portia, do you love me? Oh, with all my heart. Go back to bed and I will join you as soon as I can. Please. Be careful. I will take care. But of what? I dare not tell you. Oh.

Who are you? Your brother Cassius and friends. Forgive us for intruding on your rest. Who rests tonight in Rome? Come in. I ask again. Who are you? Not one man among us who does not honor you or does not wish you held the same opinion of yourself which every noble Roman bears.

Welcome. Decius. Our most welcome to... Casca, Cinna, Metavisimba. All welcome. But for what purpose? Where is the east? That window there. Then look beyond the storm, Brutus.

A new day arises. The Ides of March. Cassius, come aside. Give me a moment. I want to talk to you. Excuse us, gentlemen. Cassius, what brings you here in the middle of the night? I think you know. Caesar. Yes. Would all these stand with us? If you were with us,

They know it must be by his death. 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. Crushed?

Come. Brothers, 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 perches, not murderers. Brutus is right. Mark Antony is as helpless as Caesar's arm when Caesar's head is cut off. I still fear Antony. Caesar only. It is time for us to part. There is one drawback.

It's doubtful if Caesar will come to the capital today. Why? He's superstitious lately. Don't forget the soothsayer who warned him to beware the Ides of March. Ah, this very day? Leave Caesar to me. I promise you that I will bring him to the capital. Very well. When and how do we strike him? It must be openly, before all. Let's see. Yes, why not?

Metellus has a suit for Caesar to give amnesty to his banished brother, Casca Cassius. And I will press this suit. Artofonius draws Antony a sign. The others gather about Caesar and on a sign, we strike. Agreed? Agreed. Then let us meet at the capital. Till then. Till then. All right. The sun is rising on the Ides of March. Oh, Caesar, you should beware.

Forgive us for what must be done. What must be done? Portia, why didn't you stay in bed? It's a raw, cold morning and bad for your health. I'm afraid, Brutus. Who were those men who came here, hiding their faces in their cloaks, coming by night like criminals? Something awful has happened or is to happen that makes you sick at heart. Oh, my darling, I want to share your grief. Hush, darling. Nothing for you to worry about. I'm your wife, not your mistress.

Don't I deserve your confidence? What is it, Portia? Nothing. Nothing but my sickness. Oh, help me back to bed. I'll carry you back to bed. Your heart against mine? Oh, you are the dearest thing in life to me. Accept my honor. Perhaps after all, I don't want to know. Oh, Brutus, take me to bed.

And let us try to get some sleep. Sleep. I wonder if anyone in Rome sleeps tonight. Good morning, Caesar. Brutus, what are you doing up so early on this miserable morning? I came to walk you to the Senate house.

God, what a night this has been. My poor wife wracked by nightmares, crying out three times in her sleep, help, they're murdering Caesar! In her sleep. At least she did better than I did. I found the thought of having my throat cut kept me uncomfortably awake.

I'm not sure I should go to the capital today. Not go today, but... Caesar, where are you? Forgive me a moment, Brutus. Calpurnia is calling me. May I wait? I want to talk to you further. By all means, I won't be long. Who's outside with you? Brutus. Brutus?

What is he doing here this hour of the morning? He came to walk with me to the Senate House. Oh, no, no, Caesar. You're not setting foot out of this house today. I must, Calpurnia. It is expected of me. My beloved, for your own sake. It has been a week of ill omens. My sleep has been one long nightmare, and I tell you, that man yesterday who warned you to beware, I made my blood run cold.

Who can fly in the face of fate? If there are omens and predictions, they're as much for the common man as Caesar. There are no comets in the skies when beggars die. The heavens light up only for the death of princes. And cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant taste death only once. How can a man fear death?

knowing that it cannot be avoided and will come when it will come. If you have a heart, listen to me, my darling. Well, to please you then, I will stay home. Come, let us tell Brutus. He can carry the message. Good morning, ma'am.

What, Caesar? You're not dressed. It's getting late. I am not going to the capital, Brutus. Will you tell the senators that I cannot come today? Perhaps I should say, dare not. No, both are false. Simply say, I will not. Brutus, say he is sick. No, no lies.

Just tell them, Brutus, I will not come. I ask you to give me some reason to give them when they ask. Why not? It is my will. That is enough. He was warned to beware the Ides of March. By a ragpicker who dreams of having second sight? If he had true insight, what he would have said was, All hail the Ides of March. For I must tell you now what the Senate is waiting to tell you itself.

Today, you will be offered a crown and made our king. Let them make him king tomorrow. Calpurnia, you know these senators and their pride as well as I do. Can we be sure they will stay with their resolve if I must tell them how lightly Caesar prized the crown they offer? Oh, forgive me, Caesar, if I speak openly. Unless... Unless you do not want the crown. Not want it? My greatest ambition, the culmination of all my life...

Come, Calpurnia, help me with my robe, for I must not keep Brutus or the Senate waiting. Hail, Caesar! Hail, Caesar! Hail, Caesar! And to you, my fellow senators, all hail.

Well met, friend Cassius. And you, good Casca. Where's Antony? I believe he has some business with Trebonius. Where is... Oh, yes, I see. It must be very intriguing from the way they have their heads together. Cassius, are we all ready? Yes. And Casca says to waste no time, for there is some chance our intentions may be known. Then this is the hour.

Caesar, may I and some others take you aside for a moment before the general business begins? Today I could refuse no man any request. What is it, gentle Brutus? In the matter of Trebonius's suit. For amnesty for his friend Metellus's brother. To reveal the degree of banishment. Ah, now I see why Trebonius is bending Antony's ear. But all in vain. We all know the reasons involved. Don't question me any further. Just accept...

that someone must lead and be unshaken. Why else do you pick me for the honor you intend? Caesar! No, Casca, no more words. Then my hand shall speak. For me! And me! Cassius! Ligurius! Metellus! Dacius! Even...

You protest. Liberty. Freedom. Tyranny is dead. Proclaim it in the streets. Come go to the common pulpits and cry out liberty, freedom, and equality. Senators. Senators have no fear. What's done is done.

Ambition's debt is paid. Where is Antony? He's approaching now. Brutus, don't trust him. Leave it to me. Is he dead? Antony, Ambition is the most deadly of all diseases. And Caesar was infected? Do you doubt it? If you assure me so. Who doubts Brutus's word? But he was my friend, let me say it openly. If you think that I bear the contagion too...

And kill me now. Brutus. Our quarrel was with one man only and his ambition. If you are one of us and wish to protect the Republic, then give us your hand. Let us all dip our hands in his blood and then forswear each other. Well said. I make only one request. That as a friend, I may say a few words from my heart about him at the funeral. That is only fair. And unwise. Hush. First, let us go and state our case before the Senate and explain why what has happened had to be.

The rest will wait for the future to exonerate us. Oh, mighty Caesar. Do not lie so low. You will be revenge. Oh, pardon me, you bleeding piece of flesh, that I am meek and gentle for the moment with these butchers.

Our time will come when every knife wound in your body will open like a mouth and cry for justice. Cry more than that.

cry havoc, and let loose the dogs of war! The tragedy of history, as Shakespeare knew, and the world can never seem to learn, is that violence only begets more violence. I shall return shortly with the final act. The End

Over 2,000 years ago, Julius Caesar was cut down in bleeding ribbons by a cabal of his fellow senators. Whatever Caesar's motives may have been, his death is fait accompli, and we are about to face the chaos of a country in disorder. It is the day of Caesar's funeral, and he lies in state in the Forum. ♪♪

Brutus, I hope you know what you have done to allow Antony to speak at his funeral. I shall speak first, and reason will and must prevail. Hush. Greetings, Antony. To you and brave Cassius. We welcome your eulogy over Caesar's body, but remind you that for the sake of the Republic, you must not blame us.

Lo, you will, as a friend, speak all good of Caesar. You may speak fair, Antony, but do not try to stir the passions of the crowd. Cassius, I am a soldier, not an orator. I only pay my respects to the dead. Well spoken. I can only hope my eulogy will do him justice. Romans, countrymen, hear me for my cause. What I have done was not because I loved Caesar less...

But that I loved our country more. As Caesar loved me, I weep for him. As he was valiant, I honor him. But as he was ambitious, I slew him. I slew my best friend for the good of Rome. And here in my hand, I have my own dagger when it shall please my country to ask my death. Good citizens, let me depart alone in my grief. And for my sake, stay here with Antony.

And listen to his farewell to the great man we have lost. Antony, Antony. Can a man be too honest for his own or anyone's good? If he can, there he goes. Brutus, my friend. And fool, so it may prove. Hush, Antony. Friends, Romans, countrymen, I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them. The good is so often interred with their bones in the grave. So, let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus says he was ambitious, and this must be true. For Brutus is an honorable man. If Caesar was, it was a grievous fault. And grievously has Caesar...

Paid for it. But I am here under leave of Brutus and the rest to speak over the corpse of my dear friend, whom Brutus, that most honorable man, has said was ambitious. Enough. He has said enough. Too much, I begin to realize. But you cannot stop him now. He has caught the crowd. Only yesterday the word of Caesar could have stood against the world.

Now, he lies there... with none to do him reverence. Oh, Romans... if I were disposed... to stir your hearts and minds... to mutiny and rage... I should do Brutus wrong... and Cassius wrong... and all those... honorable men... who brought him here. If you dare try... the crowd would pull you apart...

I made a mistake to give Anthony a forum. Do you see this parchment? It is his will. Ladies and gentlemen, if you have tears, prepare to shed them now. Think of this mantle pierced by envious daggers here. Cassius. Here. Casca. Here. Casca.

The unkindest cut of all, where Brutus, whom Caesar dearly loved, ran him through with a mortal blow. Why? For ambition? To save you against power, a tyrant, a dictator? Now, then, I read. Here is his bequest to what he loved best of all. You, Caesar.

The citizens of Rome, to every single one of you, he leaves 75 drachmas. To all of you, he leaves his private walks, his arbors, orchards, everyone this side of the Tiber, to you and to your heirs forever to walk abroad as free men. Here was a Caesar. When will there come such another?

I knew we should have killed Antony, too. I was wrong. Not in what I did, but in what I did not do. Now our lives are in peril. What steps do we take? Antony will league himself with Caesar's nephew, Octavius. And with all the city behind him, he has an army ready made for the... Ah, he has no talent to rule. His triumph is temporary. Not strong enough this moment to present us with our heads. If we're wise, we will start at once to levy armies.

For there will be civil war. Civil war.

Brutus, my brother, you have wronged me. I do not wrong my enemies. How could I wrong a friend? You have condemned one of my men for taking bribes from the Sardinians. I have? In times like these, we cannot question every man's honesty if we have need of him. If any time, I can. And I tell you frankly, Cassius, that you yourself are accused of having an itching palm. My God, if you were not Brutus, I would run you through for that. Did we bleed Caesar for anything but the sake of justice?

If we did it to enhance ourselves, to live by bribes, to dirty our hands for money, then by God, I would rather be some dog, my tail between my legs, baying at the moon. You call me dog? I won't take it. I'm a soldier older than yourself, abler than you in practice. You are not, Cassius. You expect me to take this? I and more. When Caesar lived, he would not have dared move me like this. You wouldn't have dared tempt him like this. Don't count too much on friendship.

You may drive me to do what I may be sorry for. You have done things you should be sorry for. I sent for gold to pay my legions and you denied me. No, a misunderstanding. A fool brought my answer. If you believe me so false a friend, then here, take my dagger and strike as you did at Caesar. But now I know when you hated him most, you still loved him better than Cassius. I'm going to sheathe your dagger.

Be angry when you will. Do what you will. And I shall pass it off with a laugh. Oh, Brutus. Forgive me. Can you not remember I was born with my mother's temper? Then if we quarrel again, I'll blame it on your mother. Now come, give me your hand, old friend. And my heart. I have need of both. I never thought I would see you so angry. Now you find me sick of many griefs.

Most of all, Portia is dead. How did I escape your killing me when I angered you so? How? What had I left her to live for? She saw the end more clearly than we. What end? Why, that we die in battle. We are outnumbered and hemmed in. Well, we'll see that tomorrow. All things look better with a good night's sleep.

Marcus Brutus! Marcus Brutus! Marcus Brutus! Who's there? Who speaks? Who's without there? My voice speaks to you from within and with many mouths, the mouths of all my wounds. Marcus!

Great Caesar. No longer great. Why must you haunt me? Ask yourself that question. Or ask me again when we meet at Philippi. We must march on Philippi, Cassius.

I don't agree. There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. We must sail with the tide or lose all. Or lose all sailing with the tide. This day, one way or another, will end what was started on the Ides of March. On to Philippi! On to Philippi!

Hacker, how goes the battle? Against us, Captain. We are outnumbered and outflanked. Tell us. Dead. Down beneath us are the two sinners, too, and the guardians. And I will not live from the thrust where Anthony ran me through. And Brutus? Surrounded, held at bay like a stag, the hound yapping at his feet. What kind of coward am I? I will not live to see my best friend taken. And no man shall take me. How...

How is it with you? No enemy shall take me but death. Then let me join you. Here? With this good sword I ran Caesar through. Take it by the heel. No, Casca. Yes, Casca. Casca.

Would you have me live a slave when I can still die free? Now, my face is covered, guide the sword, and strike! Well, Chuck, there is no more gas there. Oh, Caesar, you are revenged. And with the sword that killed you... You...

Fellow, are you not servant to Brutus? Yes, master. Go bring him the news of all who are dead and tell him to flee. You can add Casco's name to the list.

All gone, Stokkel. Where are your leaves, sir? Ligarius. Vesius and Trebonius, too. Only I am left. But I have learned too late that great ends never justify small means. Wait for me a moment. I have business in my tent. Marcus Brutus.

Marcus Brutus. Is it you, Caesar? Yes. We meet again at Philippi. As you promised. Have you come for me? All the rest have fallen. As I did. Oh, forgive Caesar. Oh, Strato. Yes, my lord. Strato. Strato.

By this paper here, I make you a free man. A life for a life. If you do me one last favor in exchange, hold my sword. Oh, no, my lord. Hold it steady and true while I run upon it as you love me. I could not do it for less than love. Then steady. Oh, my... Caesar...

Now be still. I kill you. Not with so good a will. Ah.

No better epitaph from me than Antony's words when he found Brutus dead. All the conspirators, save only he, did what they did in envy of great Caesar. This was the noblest Roman of them all. I shall be back shortly.

So many people shy away from Shakespeare, afraid of the imagery of his poetry, that he is hard to understand and his plots are hard to follow. We hope now that you will find he wrote of men and women not so unlike you and me, except for the customs of their time.

flesh and blood and as exciting as any tale we may have brought you on this series our cast included Norman Rose Robert Dryden Joan Shea Russell Horton and Ian Martin the entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown

And now, a preview of our next tale. If I were to let you go, you would kill yourself? Without hope, yes. Then listen to me close. Take this bottle and the liquid in it. Go home, be mercy seeming, and give consent to the wedding Thursday.

Wednesday night, make sure you are alone and drink this liquor which shall lull you to a drowsy state which counterfeits death. For two days will you lie so. By the second night, when you are laid to rest in a Capulet tomb, by my word and letters, Romeo shall come and wake you from your drug sleep to carry you off to Mantua to freedom and to love. Give me the vial, father.

And for all the rest, I place my trust in you and what heaven shall decree. Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by Allied Van Lines and Buick Motor Division. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre.

Until next time, pleasant dreams. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky, in the steel mill in Gary, where I eventually joined him.

Through him, I learned what hard work was and saw that the men and women like him were the backbone of our community. Through my law practice, I've been fortunate enough to give back to those in need with food programs, clothing and toys for children, and educational support. Every day through the Allen Law Group, I want to make my community and my father proud. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky in the steel mill in Gary, and the parents of my partners worked in the mills too, or in the building trades or driving trucks.

So at Allen Law Group, we understand the struggle working people face when they lose their livelihood because of an accident. That's why we work so hard to help injured people win justice. Unlike the other firms, that's all we do. And because we know what you're facing, we won't quit until we win. I guess you can say it's in our DNA. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky in the steel mill in Gary, where I eventually joined him.

Through him, I learned what hard work was and saw that the men and women like him were the backbone of our community. Through my law practice, I've been fortunate enough to give back to those in need with food programs, clothing and toys for children, and educational support. Every day through the Allen Law Group, I want to make my community and my father proud. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky in the steel mill in Gary, where I eventually joined him.

Through him, I learned what hard work was and saw that the men and women like him were the backbone of our community. Through my law practice, I've been fortunate enough to give back to those in need with food programs, clothing and toys for children, and educational support. Every day through the Allen Law Group, I want to make my community and my father proud. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky in the steel mill in Gary, and the parents of my partners worked in the mills too or in the building trades or driving trucks.

So at Allen Law Group, we understand the struggle working people face when they lose their livelihood because of an accident. That's why we work so hard to help injured people win justice. Unlike the other firms, that's all we do. And because we know what you're facing, we won't quit until we win. I guess you can say it's in our DNA. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky in the steel mill in Gary, where I eventually joined him.

Thank you.

Mr. District Attorney, champion of the people, defender of truth, guardian of our fundamental rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And now, Mr. District Attorney, now the law, all things of the law, and the law of the law, and the law of the law.

The case of charity never began. The wind's chilly, John. Should we go inside with the others? Not yet, Molly. Read me that last part again. My goodness, I'll have the newspaper worn out.

You mean where it tells about us? Please. I could read it myself, but my glasses... Of course, John. Well, first it tells about how Dr. Harrell founded Maple Lodge here. You know, for older people. Oh, he was a wonderful man, Molly. I know. Oh.

Then it goes on to tell about his death. And Mr. Fay? Yes, that part right here. Attorneys said later today that because Dr. Dennis left no will, Maple Lodge becomes the property of his nephew, Gerald Fay of Chicago. He's not even a doctor? It doesn't say, John, just that he announced class to continue the lodge as before. Does it mention this woman he brought with him? Miss Mills?

No, no, it doesn't. Mrs. Benson says she's pretty. Well, I wouldn't say pretty exactly, John. If she's a good nurse, that's all I am. Oh, Molly Fulton, it's your age. What, John? No, I don't see that funny, John. Coby, tell me. You aren't afraid I caught her, are you, Molly? Me? Me? Oh, you bone-bed rat. John, someone's coming. Yes? Yes?

Aren't you supposed to be in your room? What? Oh, Miss Mills. In our rooms, Miss Mills? But we were waiting here on the porch. Oh, but lunch, he means. Today's Wednesday. We'll have corn fritters this noon, you know, and John just loves them. Apparently you didn't hear me, Mrs. Fulton. Mr. Fay says you're to stay in your room. Miss Fulton, and I certainly don't see... No one's asking you to see anything.

Now, will you get off the porch, both of you? Molly. I don't want to have to tell you again. And never mind about my baby legs. I never... She... She isn't very pretty, is she, Molly? No, John, she isn't. Now I wonder about Mr. Fay. Oh!

Oh, my God.

Mr. Ferry, Chief. Go right in, please. Thank you, Mr. Miller, isn't it? That's right. Thanks, honey. Mr. Mr. Gattari? Yes, come in, Mr. Ferry. I see you've met Miss Miller. We spoke outside, Chief. Oh, yes. And this is Mr. Harrington. Ah, how do you do? Now, sit down, won't you? Sorry to keep you waiting. Oh, not at all. I can't wait.

I'll get right down to business, D.A. Yes. I suppose you know about Maple Lodge? The old folks' home? That's right, Mr. Harrington. Belonged to my uncle, Dr. Harold Ennis. For years, I had the pleasure of meeting your uncle several times, Mr. Fay. We were all sorry to hear of his death. For all community-wise, everyone says Maple Lodge was such a fine place. Oh, not was, Miss Miller. Is.

And if Jerry Fay has anything to say about it, it's going to be even better. Yeah, the paper said something about you running it. Yeah, I came the minute I heard, Harrington. Just dropped everything in Chicago and came on. I owe that much to Uncle Harold's memory. Yeah. You're a doctor, are you? No, sir, I'm not.

Hey, D.A., Maple Lodge needs your help. I don't mind saying, after I started the situation out there, I came right to you. Help about what? Well, it's a good home, sure, but it needs support, D.A., your public interest. Publicity, if you want to put it that way. You mean money.

In a way, yes. In other words, Mr. Faye, you want to raise funds. Isn't that it? Can you think of a worthier institution, D.A.? Maple Lodge has a right to accept charity, of course. As I recall, the guests pay only a moderate fee to live there. Yes, that's right. But with outside help, a few donations here and there...

Well, I can make the place a paradise. Yes, sure. So what am I going to do? Get ink, Harrington, ink. That's an old newspaper phrase, ink publicity. Yeah, I know. Will you help, Mr. D.A.? A speech from you, a banquet or a dedication, something like that, that'd be a great start. Well, this isn't a publicity office, Mr. Fay, you know that. Still...

We've never refused our help where we think it's needed. Well, that's fine. Then I can count on you. Oh, and say, you come out and get to know our people, will you? You too, Miss Miller? I'm telling you, they'll tear your heart out. Oh? Yes. Well, you're a busy man, D.A., so am I. You'll hear from me soon. Thank you for coming in, Mr. Miller. Oh, thank you. If it don't bother Miss Miller, I can find the door. Thanks again. So long, Faye. Bye. Good morning, Faye.

Didn't you say something, Harrington? Well, I don't get it, Chief. Seems clear enough, I suppose. A place like Maple Lodge can always use donations. Yeah, but that guy here. Well, everything he said stacks up okay, but... If you ask me, he makes me creep. Exactly, Miss Miller. Me too. I know what you mean. He seems to have the best of intentions, but still...

Something about him makes me wonder. Hey, Karen, did you see the eagle? They put that feature story on page three. Great. Do you want a drink, Jerry? Now, lay off, I told you. I told you that'd make the papers, kid. Ha, ha.

John and Molly. Loving the old folks, huh? Well, one of your lovebirds is cooling his heels outside. What, up here in the office? The old man, John. I told him to just sit and wait. Now, what's he want now? How should I know? He complains all the time. They all do. Any more trouble in the dining room? Sure. They were yelling about the mashed potatoes. Where'd you learn that trick with the air hole? Sorry.

Honey, that's as old as the hills. You shoot air into a pot of mashed potatoes, you end up with a mountain of them. That's what they taste like. Well, so what? Hey, did I tell you I saw the DA? Four times. So he's going to make a speech. So what? All right, look, I know this ain't a picnic, but will you stop griping? I don't like institutions. They remind me of... You have places. Well, you like dough, don't you?

Give me six months with this layout and we can retire. In six months you'll have a mutiny. They're all yelling, I tell you. Take that old fool outside. They can be handled. Send them in. They ought to be in straight jackets. Yes, ma'am. Now take it easy. All right, come on. You, I mean.

I've been waiting a long time, Miss Mills. Have you got anything better to do? Well, what's on your mind, John? I'm busy this morning. When Dr. Harold had this office, we didn't have to walk up the stairs. My uncle is dead. We can't have you people using the elevator, John. You might get hurt. Is that what you wanted, to holler about the elevator? I don't want to holler about anything, Miss Mills.

It's about the paper this morning. The paper? There's a story about Miss Fulton and me, Mr. Fay. Everyone's talking about it. Oh? It seems to say that we're in love, I think, is the way to eat. Mother? Don't you go ignoring him, Mr. Fay. We won't stand for it. You won't what? I didn't come up here to argue, Miss Mills.

We found out what good that does. Now, now, just a minute, old man. No, Mr. Clay, you listen to me. A story like that is cheap and insulting, both to Miss Fulton and to me. Well, I'll... I'll handle this, Karen. Go back to your room, John. I will. Only let this be a warning to you, my boy.

We won't stand for it. None of us here. We won't stand for a lot of things. Mr. Fay said to go to your room. Both of you. You think we're all in helpers. Well, we're not. You go too far, you'll see. You hear me? You'll see. Well, what do you know? An old ghost slammed the door on you. You know something, Karen?

That old goat can go too far. All right, Mr. Perry. If it was a mistake, I'm sure you'll call the papers and correct it. No, no trouble. All right, and thanks. What'd he say, Chief? Well, he saw the papers, Harrington. He admits that much at least. Saw them? Yes. By golly, it's in every paper in town. Look at this headline here.

Movie star's mother welcomed the old folks home. Yeah. How do you explain it, Chief? Why, he says he merely called the newspapers and said she'd be welcomed at a reception out there. He what? Yeah. That's his explanation, Smither. He meant she'd attend a party, and the papers took it to mean that she was going to live there. Oh. Now I've heard them all. Yes, it impresses me as questionable, to say the least.

However, he promised to call the papers and correct the matter. Well, he'd better. You know, see if I got a thought about Mr. Fay. I've had quite a few myself in the last week or so. Well, it's nothing I can put my finger on, understand? But all these newspaper stories, all this high-powered publicity. Well, I think it's disgusting. And another thing, all those stories about Molly and John, you know, the two old people in love?

That's so cheap. Yeah. I'll go on, Hank. Well, it's just a thought, Chief. Like Miss Miller says, he operates kind of cheap. I'll say so. So how about if I call a few of the boys in Chicago and ask some questions? You know, just to see who he really is. THE END

I got news for you, Jerry. He's waiting outside again. John? Hmm? I kind of expected it. Molly with him? She can't climb the stairs. You know what to do if things get rough. How rough can they get? Never mind. That story made every paper in the state.

And what a picture. Look, Jerry. It's your show. Way back in Chicago, I just came along for the ride. We're doing okay, baby. Another week of build-up, I'll start yelling for donations. Touch off the campaign with the DA himself making a... Look, will you let me on?

You're going overboard, kid. What's that supposed to mean? Just what I said. That break about the stars, Mother. That wasn't so good. All right, so we apologize. Maple Arch still made the papers, didn't it? Okay, okay, let that one rot. But if I were you, I'd lay off John and Mother.

The old man will blow his cock. We're ready for that one, aren't we? Well... I said, aren't we? I'll let him in. You can come in now. Good morning, John. Mr. Trey... Sit down, won't you? What I have to say I can do standing up.

I've written a letter, Mr. Fay. Molly made three copies. A letter to who? Let John finish, Miss Mills. To the newspapers. I have them right here. You see? Well, I'll be glad to look at them, John. You know that? I'll keep them, Mr. Fay. Yes, and I'll see that they're mailed, too. Well, what do they say, John? We'd be interested. I should think you would be. They're about the lodge, Miss Mills. The bad food. The

The way we have to stay in our rooms. How you got rid of the radio. Everything. Oh? And what's more, we've told the papers the truth about these cheap publicity stories. I see. Oh, Miss Mills, do you have something to attend to outside, I believe? No, Mr. Fink. Yes, I think so. We'll excuse you. Right along. Whatever you say. Thank you.

All right, John. Let's get at it. You're going to mail those, are you? I am. Unless things change, sir, and change might be fast. I see. You seem to forget we have rights here. All of us, we paid when we came. Our life savings, some of us.

I go on. That was the understanding with Dr. Harold. We played, and in return we're to be cared for. Well, I think you're just excited, John. Folks don't like the food.

Now, we'll fix that immediately. No, it isn't only the food. All right, everything, then. We'll get new radios. A lot of them. And the newspaper stories? About you and Molly? Not another one, John. After all, I didn't realize you'd object. It was just a... I'll call it a human interest angle. We object strenuously. Then they'll stop. Now, anything else? Why, no. No.

No, I think that's all. I must say, this surprises me. Why? Because I want to do the right thing? Oh, come, John, give me a chance. I want you people to be happy. It just takes time for me to learn, that's all. You know, I believe you mean that, Mr. Fay. I'll tell the others. Of course I mean it. Now, you go back downstairs and forget all about it.

Everything's going to be just fine. Oh, thank you, Mr. Fay. I will. Thank you. Well, it's dark here at this landing. I must put in a light. Say what? Oh, yes, yes. Thank you again, sir. I'll tell the... Oh! Oh!

Mr. Clay, what happened? Is that you down there, Miss Mills? Hurry, will you? The old man fell down the stairs. Hurry!

I'm certainly sorry you picked a date like this to visit us, D.A. Yes, it happened this morning, you say, Mr. Faye? Yes, that's right. The poor man wanted to see me, and since the elevator's out of order, he had to use the stairs. What's the matter with the elevator? I don't know, Mr. Harrington. I've got a man coming this afternoon. Oh, what about Molly? She must feel terrible. She does, Miss Miller. John's death was a terrible blow to all of us.

Well, we won't bother her at a time like this. We're going to have a service tomorrow, D.A. It would mean a lot if you could make it. Well, I'll try, Mr. Faye. Will you check my calendar when we get back, Miss Minnick? I will, Chief. Well, I'll be glad to show you around now, D.A. You know, as I say, it's a sad day here at the lodge. No, no, we won't stay. You ready, Miss Minnick? Yes, I'll get to do it. Come again, won't you, tomorrow, if you can? We'll be seeing you, Frank. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Hello, ma'am. I almost feel as though I've known him. So do I. You know, I... What happened, Miss? I'm all right. I slipped, I think. Let me help you. Are you all right? Sure. Can you stand? Sure. I'll be, Chief. I just slipped. I'll tell you. Hey, look at your sleeve. What?

Oh, no. My new coat, too. You must have torn it on the tread. Say, I don't like this, Carrington. Stairs like these in a home fully aged. I don't like it at all. Oh.

I shouldn't have to tell you, Molly. Don't come into this office without knocking ever. I'll take her back to her room. You just keep your hands to yourself, Miss Mills. Unless for coming up here, you just try and stop me. Now, now, now, you're upset, Molly. We all are. John's death is a tragedy. Listen to me, young man. I may be old, but I'm not a fool. There's something going on here. What do you mean by that? I mean I'm leaving, for one thing. And I'm going to find somebody on the outside who will listen to me.

How can you leave, Molly? Didn't you give my uncle your savings when you came? Mr. Fay is right, Molly. You'd be a public charge. Would I? It may interest you to know John gave me his bonds, young lady. War bonds, good as gold. Oh? I think you'd better come back to your room, Molly.

Now, get your hands off me. You don't frighten me. No one wants to frighten anybody, Molly. I know that. You can't afford another accident, can you? What? You heard me. You think we don't know the district attorney was here? That's none of your business. No, well, it's going to be, young man, and don't think it isn't. You come with me, Jerry. Go, I... We're in a room, Karen. Come on, go. And when you get her, they'll lock the door. Go.

Well, this will help, Chief. Yes. I got the reports in Chicago. On Jerry Faye Harrington? Himself. He sure ain't had much practice taking care of old people, Chief. Oh? Now, as far as the boys can figure, he used to sell slot machines. What? That's right. He's been picked up four or five times on suspicion.

served here once for assault. How in the world did Dr. Dennis get a nephew like that? Well, that's here, too. Apparently, the old man never even laid eyes on him. Oh, I remember that when he died. The papers mentioned it. Yeah, well, the fact remains he's got his hands on Maple Lodge. Yeah, some place for old folks, all right.

Stairs like that. Oh, how's your arm, Miss Miller? I'm all right, Harrington. I just bruised it a bit when I tore my coat. You went back and examined those stairs, Harrington? That's like you said, the chief. Yes. They're steep, but they're sound. No building inspector would condemn them. How about the elevator? The elevator fixed it. At least it was running this afternoon. Oh, Harrington, did you see Molly? No, I didn't, but I asked about her. That dame said she was resting. I guess the old man's death must have hit her pretty hard. Oh, sure. It's me hard, too.

There's nothing definite to go on, but still... Yes, Chief? Well, there's something wrong out there, and I want to know what it is. Ah!

Now look, Jerry, either you go with me or I'm clearing out alone. I can go back to that dice table in Chicago, you know. Will you calm down? There's no need to blow your top. How is he? With the D.A. here this morning and that Harrington jerk back again this afternoon? Well, so what?

Did they find anything? He asked for miles, didn't he? You can't keep her locked up forever, you know. I can take care of her. How? Another accident? Maybe. Oh, you're crazy, Jerry. We're not even sure the D.A. buys the first one. All right, I'll think of something else. What? Oh. Look, I'm telling you, I've got this all set up now for a pitch. I've got enough publicity we can get real dough. People go for charity stuff, baby, you know that.

Charity begins at home, Buster. I want to go back there. Yes, but admit there was something phony. Don't be stupid. The thing now is to think. Oh, great. Great. Well, start thinking some. Start with old Molly, locked up in her room. Oh.

You want my idea, Chief? Yes. Let's go out there and tear that place apart. With what kind of a warrant, Harrington? We can make an inspection, that's true. And you know how much that would bring. Well, if you do go, be careful of the stairs. The stairs? Oh, I was just kidding. Yes, I know, Miss Miller. Only those stairs bother me, and I have ever since.

Sam Spiller. Yes, Chief. That coat you were wearing, the one you tore. Oh, my green one. Yes, is it here? Why, uh... Well, yes, Chief. I was going to take it out and have it fixed. May I see it, please? Why, sure. It's in the closet here. I don't follow you, Chief. Well, it may be nothing, Harrington, but still, I have an idea. Oh!

What did you do wrong? Molly, the last one on the roof. All right, come on. Is that the rest of them safe? No, they're all in their rooms. Jerry, wait. Now what?

Well, you're just going to talk to her, aren't you? What's the matter with you? You're getting soft. I just mean don't start anything rough, that's all. She gets hurt, you'll never explain it. That depends on how bad she gets hurt. Now go on, open up. You got the keys? Right here. Only watch. Will you? We're in deep enough right now. Open the door. Yes, sure. Oh. Mind if we come in, Molly? Yes, sir.

Shut the door, Karen. Who are you? Mr. Fay told you. We want to talk. I'll talk, all right. I've been locked in here like a prisoner. Yes, well, that was a mistake, Molly, and we're sorry. And, John, that was a mistake, too. What? Don't play innocent with me, the two of you. I don't know what you're trying to do, but it's not right, and I'm going to the police. I don't think you'd do that, Molly. Wouldn't I?

Oh, I've thought this over, my young friend. You can't stop me if you've tried. Can't I? There's no stairs here, Mr. Fay. Jerry. I'll handle this, Karen.

Now, you get something straight, Molly. Once and for all. I think I have. You're old. Not only that, people don't care about you. That's not true. Suppose you had a heart attack or something. Right here in this room, let's say. Don't you talk that way. You think anybody would really care? It's another poor old woman, they say. They have to die sometime, you know. Jerry. Shut up. You see what I mean, Molly? Don't come near me. I warn you. I've had enough out of you, you old hag.

All I have to do is hold my hand over your mouth. Jerry, no. Go. Go. Jerry, you fool. Let her go. Jerry, don't. Jerry, look out. Let me go. Go.

Mother, this will go up. Hurry. Oh, Molly. He was trying to... It's all right, Molly. Here. Oh, here on the... Follow Dr. Brophy. There we are. And take this woman with you. Let go, Molly. You okay? He won't hurt me, Willie. He was trying to kill me. No, he won't hurt you, Molly. Not where he's going. We want him for murder. All right, pick him up, Carrington, and let's go. Let's go.

The End

Oh, my God.

Listen again, same time, same station, when we again present Mr. District Attorney. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio Service. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky in the steel mill in Gary. Through him I learned what hard, dangerous work was and saw that workers like him need a voice when tragic things happen.

That's why I focus my law practice on helping hardworking people get justice. Like Mike, whose hand was mangled at work because of a dangerously defective machine. We fight every day to protect the rights of accidentally injured people. In fact, it's all we do. I guess you can say it's in our DNA. My dad worked in the mines of Kentucky in the steel mill in Gary. And the parents of my partners worked in the mills too, or in the building trades or driving trucks.

So at Allen Law Group, we understand the struggle working people face when they lose their livelihood because of an accident. That's why we work so hard to help injured people win justice. Unlike the other firms, that's all we do. And because we know what you're facing, we won't quit until we win. I guess you can say it's in our DNA.

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Midnight. You fool. You idiot. I'll fix you. I'll take you back there and... Marisa. No. Don't. I told you not to touch me. Now it's all over. We've played our last performance together. Midnight. The witching hour when the night is darkest.

Our fear is the strongest. Our strength at its lowest ebb. Midnight, when the graves gape open and death. You'll learn the answer in just a minute in The Secret of XR3. The Secret of XR3

And now, Murder at Midnight. Tales of mystery and terror by radio's masters of the macabre. Our story by Max Ehrlich is The Secret of XR3. The Death House. A man sits in a tiny cell, his head bowed, waiting for the moment when he will pass from light to eternal shadow.

The clock ticks on. But the time is not yet, not quite yet. Then footsteps sound in the corridor. The door opens. It's almost time, my son. Yes, father. I know. Is there anything I can do? No. Still, I'm glad you've come. Father, look at me. Look at me closely. Yes? I frighten you, don't I? I terrify you. No. No, my son.

Nothing frightens me except the evil, immense hearts. Am I evil? I don't know, my son. Father, I... Sit down. Let me tell you my story. And then when I'm finished, perhaps you can tell me. They call me Gorgo. All my life I've been a little man, only three feet high. Perfectly normal in every way, you see, except for my height.

Perhaps you saw me down at the Century Theater not so long ago. The boat-wheel team of Petrov and Gorgo. Acrobat Supreme. Petrov was a huge, ape-like man... who tossed me through the air like a rubber ball. The audience liked the act. The contrast between the big, big Petrov and the little, little Gorgo... intrigued and amused them. And on the stage, I laughed and smiled... and went through my tricks like a happy little fellow. But in the dressing room...

It was different. I did not like your performance tonight, Gorgo. But what was wrong with the Petrov? You were slow. You landed too heavily. You did not smile enough. But they liked us, Petrov. You heard them. We got three curtain calls. We should have gotten five. Petrov, I did my best. My very best. Believe me. Your best was not good enough, little one. Perhaps you will do better tomorrow if I lock you in your room tonight without supper.

That was Vladimir Petrov, a gorilla of a man and master of my body and soul. How I hated him. How many times I wept in the silence of my room. All my life I had walked in the shadows of bigger people. See, all my life I had looked up instead of straight ahead, endured the stares of the curious and sensed the pity that was in their hearts.

That was why I used to wait in the alley near the stage door between performances because it was dark there. I loved the dark. It protected me and hid me from those who stared and mocked. One night... I beg your pardon, you were Gorgo? Yes. My name is Dr. Mead. I saw your performance earlier tonight. I was just coming in to see you. Yes? What about? I happen to be an expert in glandular work, particularly in the function of the pituitary or growth gland...

I think the results of my recent experiments will interest you. I, uh, I don't understand, Dr. Maine. Do you ever hear of XR3? XR3? No. Well, it's an extract, a synthetic, I discovered about two years ago. In my experiments to date, whenever I injected it into stunted or dwarfed animals, they grew. Grew? Yes. You mean to normal size? By using controlled doses, yes.

You mean, if you could do this with animals, then you could... I don't know, Gorgo. I think the time has come to try. Except for your size, you were perfectly formed. Just what I've been looking for. I came to ask you if you'd volunteer. Yes, yes. You understand I can't guarantee a thing. I understand, and that doesn't matter. I...

Dr. Mead, you don't know what it means, even the chance, a chance to grow to normal size. One thing, though, I must have your written permission. My permission? Yes, yes, Dr. Mead, I'll give it to you gladly. I'll do anything, anything. Speak a little hastily, do you not, Orgo? Petrov. Yes, little one. I'm sorry, Dr. Mead.

I'm afraid you will have to find someone else for your experiments. Someone else? My little friend cannot act as your guinea pig without my consent. You see, I am Gorgo's legal guardian, and I have the papers to prove it. No, Petrov, no! No, you've got to give me this chance! Silence, little fool! As I said, I am sorry, Doctor, but... But, my dear sir, if I can make Gorgo grow to normal size... If you did, what would become of our act? It would be worthless. The people come to see Big Petrov and Little Gorgo.

Do you mean to say, Mr. Petrov, that you would let your Vordrel act stand in the way? Yes. I spent years building the team of Petrov and Gorgo. Do you think I am going to let you ruin my investment now? Petrov, please, please let him do it. You've got to. Shut up, you little fool, and get inside. As for you, Doctor, I wouldn't advise you to come around here again. This was a blow I could not stand. Dr. Mead had opened a prison door for me, and Petrov had slammed it shut again.

I resolved then that come what may I would have my chance. The very idea of the XR3, of becoming a man like other men, made me drunk and gave me daring.

One morning, while Petrov was away, I paid a visit to Dr. Meade at his office and begged him to try the experiment without Petrov's permission. I'm sorry, Gogo, but I cannot. The experiment would be very delicate if anything should happen without your guardian's legal permission. No, I'll run the risk, Dr. Meade. I'll be glad to. I'm sorry, but it can't be done. I see. Dr. Meade? Yes? Yes.

Just what does this XR3 look like? Well, I made it up in capsule form. Here, I've hold bottom of the capsules in my desk drawer. As you see, they're green in color. So those are the magic capsules. Thank you for letting me see them, Doctor. Thank you very much. Late that night, I slipped out of my hotel room and down the fire escape.

Keeping in the shadows, I went to Dr. Mead's office and climbed through the grilled bars in the window. It was easy for a man of my size. And when I left, I had the bottle of XR3 capsules in my pocket. Well, that was Saturday night. I took one capsule and then another. It made me ill, lightheaded. Then I fell into a deep sleep. And then a knock on the door awakened me. Uh...

Who is it? Petrov. Why are you sleeping so late? I don't feel well. My little one doesn't feel well. Let it be. Please, Petrov, I want to sleep. Today is Sunday and there is no performance. But tomorrow, my little Gorgo, you had better be in the best of health, understand? Otherwise, I'll see that you really become... After he left, I fell into the deep sleep again.

And then something woke me. My muscles ached as though I had been stretched on a rack. It was daylight again. It was Monday. My pajamas seemed uncomfortably tight and I looked down and the sleeves only reached my elbows. I stared and my heart stopped beating. Remember the XR3? Like a drunken man, I staggered over to the mirror and looked. Yes, I had drunk.

My pajamas were stretched to bursting. I was growing. I was at least five feet tall. Five feet! It was almost time for the performance now. Petrov would be coming for me any minute. And I didn't want him to see me. Not yet. So I piled furniture against the door. And waited. All right, Gorgo. Time to go to the theater. I, uh... I can't go, Petrov. Not tonight. I'm still sick. What?

Corco.

In the name of heaven, what... Yes, Petrov. I got it. I stole the XR3 and I took it. Now, you see... You idiot. Do you realize what you've done? You've ruined the act. You've ruined it. Do you hear me? Yes, but I'm a man now. A man, not a dwarf. They won't stare at me now. They won't... No? That's what you think. If that doctor could make you grow...

He can make you small again. Smaller than ever. No, Petrov, no! Yes, Korgo. You've grown, but not so much that I can't handle you. We're going to see him right now. Petrov, no! Let me alone, for heaven's sake! I'll struggle you as a razor. No, don't! I told you to leave me alone. I told you. And now it's all over.

We've played our last performance together. A doomed man sitting in the death house pauses in his story, recalling the first time the clock struck twelve for... Midnight. Midnight.

And now here is Gorgo again, continuing his story to the priest in the death house. I stayed in my hotel room another day and took two more XR3 capsules. And when I looked in the mirror that night, I was over six feet tall. That was enough. That was all I wanted. Now I would leave the hotel. They'd never know who killed Petra. They'd be looking for Gorgo, a three-foot midget. Never suspect me.

Yes, I was in the clear. I stripped Petrov, put on his clothes. They were a little tight, but they did well enough. Then I went through the lobby and into the night. The mere experience of walking was exciting, exhilarating, as though I were walking on a high fence. And nobody looked at me twice. The staring eyes were gone. I was normal, normal, normal.

First, I had to find a place to live. I passed by a boarding house with a sign, room to let. I rang the bell. Oh, hello. Hello. I, uh, my name is Baker, John Baker. I saw your sign about a room. Hmm, yeah. Would you like to see it, boy? If you don't mind. I don't mind a bit. Come in. It's a lovely room.

We got a nice class of people. I'm sure you'll like it. I'm sure I will. But first, Miss... Devlin. Rhoda Devlin. Yeah, I... Well, Miss Devlin, I just wanted to say I've been living in hotels all my life and I can't give you any references. Forget it. My mother owns the place. Well, we're not exactly formal. Besides, you look good to me. I do? Oh.

Yeah. I... Well, I always did go for big men. Big? Yeah. Oh. And I, uh... I've always liked pretty girls. This was a dream come true. I was a normal man. And a normal girl was attracted to me. She was blonde and blue-eyed. And her head came up to my shoulder. A week passed.

A week that was beyond my wildest dreams. I took Rhoda out and we went everywhere. I fell in love with her, madly in love. She was so small, so delicate, I wanted to protect her always. She had opened up a new and magic world to me, a world of light and love and laughter. And then, one night it happened.

I was taking Rhoda home from the movies when we were passing a billiard parlor and there were several idlers in front of the place. They began saying things. Look at the giant. Yeah. How's the weather up there, big boy? Hey, Garley, what do you got there, Pikes? You wait here, Rhoda. I'll shut their mouths then. All right. I crack the skull of the next man who opens his mouth. Yeah, but they're saying... I know, but don't mind him. No, I wouldn't. All right.

What do you know? The big baboon trying to throw his weight around. I wanted to smash their jeering faces, knock them down. Rhoda and I walked down to her mother's boarding house. And she was strangely silent as we entered the dimly lit foyer. She hadn't said a single word since we had passed that billiard parlor. I was vaguely disturbed. I took her in my arms, but she pushed me away. No, please don't.

What's the matter, baby? Is it what those men at the billiard parlor said? It seems to me you're growing bigger. Growing bigger? I thought at first I was seeing things, but now I know it's true. I know it's crazy. When we first met, the top of my head reached your shoulders. Yeah? What about now? Now it doesn't reach your shoulders anymore. You've grown bigger. Now, Rhoda, you don't know what you're saying. This is your imagination. No. Now it's true. We'd better not see each other anymore.

I'm afraid of you, John. You're too big now. Rhoda, listen. Rhoda, please. Let go of my arm. No, not until you hear what I have to say. Rhoda, I love you. Do you hear? I love you, and I'm not going to let you just toss me aside. Stop that. Stop that screaming. You want to waste the whole street up. Stop it. Stop it. Stop that screaming. Stop. Rhoda.

Rura! Rura! Oh, her lifeless body sagged in my arms. I'd forgotten my own strength. And in my fury, I'd strangled her. Just like a man in a dream, I lowered her body gently to the floor and then turned to look at my reflection in the full-length mirror in the foyer. Yes. Yes, it was true. The pitiless mirror reflected a giant. I'd grown at least six inches. The XR3 had continued its work, was making me grow even now.

Now I was a freak again. They stared at me again and pitied me. The beautiful, normal world I had so briefly enjoyed came crashing down over my ears. I ran out of the house like a wild man and into the street. Dr. B? Yes, I had to see him. Once, I ran to his office, avoiding the well-lit streets, and the light was on, and I prayed that he was in. I knocked on the door.

Yes, what... Good Lord. Hello, Dr. Meade. You remember me? No, I can't say that I do. Look up into my face, Doctor. The features are the same you looked down upon not so long ago. Gogo the midget. No, Dr. Meade. It's Gogo the giant now. So it was you who stole the bottle of XR3 capsules from my desk? Yes, yes, yes. And this is the result? This and Petrov's murder? He deserved to die. That does not alter the fact that it still was murder. Dr. Meade!

I'm not here to argue law with you. I want you to save me. You've got to stop this growing process. But how? What can I do? An antidote. You must have an antidote. I'm sorry, but I haven't. There just isn't any. What? No antidote? Oh, you're lying. I assure you, I'm telling the truth, Corgo. I was interested in making things grow, not making them smaller. Then I'm lost. There's no way out. I'm sorry. All my life I was a little man.

I wanted to know what it was like to be a big man. Now I am big. Too big. Isn't that amusing, Doctor? Too little and then too big. Like the swing of a pendulum. I wish I were little again. I knew what to expect then. I was used to that.

Now they'll stare at me again. They'll laugh and jeer at me. Gorgo the Giant! Gorgo the Giant! I think we'd better call the police, Gorgo. Well, Father, that's my story. That's why I'm here in the death house. Now, tell me, am I evil? No, my son.

You have been unfortunate, but not evil. You have sinned, yes, but you have been sinned against, too. They're coming for you, Gorgon. I hear, and I'm glad. Glad? Yes, glad. I don't mind dying now. This world, Father, what has it ever meant to me? But there, in the next world, there no man will be strange and all will be equal. Perhaps there I will find peace.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪

♪♪ Remember to be with us again when death walks through the darkness with giant strides and the clocks strike 12 for... ♪♪

The part of Gorgo was played by Carl Swenson. With music by Charles Paul, Murder at Midnight was directed by Anton M. Leder.

So

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This is Orson Welles.

Speaking from London. The Black Museum. The repository of death. Yes, here in the grim stone structure on the Thames, which houses Scotland Yard, is a warehouse of homicide. Where everyday objects, a skillet, a screwdriver, a photograph, all are touched by murder. Murder!

Here's a .22 caliber pistol. It's a familiar object. You've seen one or it's pictured. Never touched one. An elegant little weapon. Blue steel. Mother of pearl inlaid grip. Beautiful in its dainty, snub-nosed wickedness. A lady's weapon, wouldn't you say, Pepper? Looks as if it wouldn't harm a fly. Pretty.

Pretty in its way, Inspector? Pretty and dangerous. There ought to be a law forbidding the manufacture of these toys. Every one of them is capable of death. Well, today, this little blue .22 can be found among the exhibits in the Black Museum. Oh!

From the annals of the Criminal Investigation Department of the London Police, we bring you the dramatic stories of the crimes recorded by the Yard's Gallery of Death, the Black Museum. ♪♪

Well, here we are in the Black Museum. Scotland Yards, Museum of Murder. It's an impressive place. The kind of echoing awe which comes from a vaulted ceiling and somber lighting. Weird, fantastic, with a harsh, real fantasy that comes with murder. Here lies death.

And so neatly. Each object placarded with a small white card labeled with black lettering. Name, place, date. Disposition of the case. Here's an odd-looking ashtray. Soapstone. It's carved rather nicely with the crouching figure of a woman.

Something decorative for your living room, but observe closely now the red-brown stain on the rim. Lift up the tray, hold it by the figure of the woman. Yes, it's comfortable in your hand, and suddenly, this is a weapon.

Ah, here we are. Little blue 22. Well, it's silent now. It was silent, too, during Vivian Davis's cocktail party in London's smart, sophisticated West End. Vivian's quite sheeshy apartment. It was not destined to be silent, though. Now,

Not very long. It's a nice place, Vivian's apartment, if you go for ultra-modern glass and metal combinations. Nice people, too. Well, nice looking, anyway. Young men are quite, quite impeccable. The young ladies are lovely, lush, well aware of the well-put-together attractiveness.

Oh, yes, these are the chic young people. Larry, darling, have you been watching Vivian and Donald? What else, sweet? They are at dagger points, aren't they? Well, frankly, Larry, if Viv has one more martini, she'll kill Donald with a look. An alcoholic look, at any rate. But why all the fuss and bother? If Donald wants to play, she ought to let him. I'm sorry.

I know at least three males who are perfectly willing to give vivatime, really. Including yourself, Larry, my sweet? No, darling, I'm the fourth. But then why bother? A trifle strange, isn't it? The ultra-sophisticated, the over-civilized, and yet, you know, beneath the polish, the

The same old jealousy that you can find in savages. Oh, yes, simple jealousy. For instance, at this moment, Vivian herself is approaching the chrome and plastic bar where Donald is mixing a drink. Donald, haven't you had enough? You're quite tight, you know. Am I, really? I asked you, Donald, haven't you had enough? I don't believe I have.

Will you have one, dear? I've had enough, let me tell you. This is my party. You might be polite enough to pay some attention to me and a little less to that strawberry blonde. Ah, she's quite attractive in a leggy sort of way. Oh, yes, quite elemental beneath the polished surface. An interesting situation that continues, of course.

as long as the party lasts. It continues, as a matter of fact, well past the end of the party, even to the moment when May and Larry are making their farewells.

The last of the guests to go. It was simply marvellous, Viv, darling. Just delightful. I always adore your parties, Viv. The liquor flows like water. Thank you both for coming. My little parties wouldn't be the same without you. Isn't that so, Donald? Huh?

Yes, yes, of course. Can't mean Donald, though, son? Well, I don't exactly know. Oh, Larry, please. What? Put my foot in it, didn't I? I'm sorry, old man. Au revoir, Viv. Let the martinis run again sometime soon. Bye, darling. Ring me, won't you? Oh, soon, darling, quite soon. Donald's for it now. Did you see the look in her eyes? Come along, dear. Don't be catty. The party's over now.

Silence descends on the carpeted hallway for a moment or two.

And then, through the muffling walls... You stupid little, silly little beast on that woman. Oh, stop it, Viv. I'm not interested in her. No, you make me look like a perfect idiot. Man versus woman. A jealous woman. Where does it go? Isn't it obvious? Of course. Somebody's bound to be hurt.

Inspector Summers and Detective Pepper arrive quickly from the yard. This seems to be the weapon, Inspector. A .22, blue steel, mother-of-pearl grip. A lady's weapon, wouldn't you say, Pepper? Looks as if it wouldn't harm a fly.

Pretty in its way, Inspector. Pretty and dangerous. There ought to be a law forbidding the manufacture of these toys. Every one of them is capable of death. Funny. What is? The body. Out here. On

On the landing? Yes. Well, we'll find a reason for that shortly. Not much blood. Twenty-twos don't make much of a hole. Stay here, Pepper. I want the pathologist to see the body before it goes to the morgue. You know the procedure. I'll be inside with the prime and only suspect. Yes, sir. I understand.

All right. Tell me how it happened. Don't you dare to talk to me like that. Take hold of yourself, Miss Davis. I need the answers to a few questions. I'll answer that. Don't you dare. That's my telephone. Yes? No? This is Inspector Summers of Scotland Yard. I see. I'm sorry, Lady Munsey, you can't speak to your daughter just now.

Yes. She'll be coming down to the yard. You can come there if you wish. Goodbye. Now would you leave me alone? You know who my mother is. Which do you prefer, to answer my questions here or to come down to the yard? I refuse to answer anything. That won't look well in the report, miss. Oh, get out of here. Get out. Take hold of yourself, Miss Davis. I told you and told you. Donald and I were arguing. I suppose I grabbed the gun from under the pillow where I keep it.

He tried to take it away from me. The next I knew there was a shot and he was mumbling something about the doctor. And then... Then he was dead. Oh, now leave me alone. Leave me alone. Inspector Summers felt that further questioning was indicated. The location he chose was his own office at the yard.

Where did you get the gun, Miss Davis? My husband gave it to me several years ago. Are you married? I was. I'm divorced. Inspector Summers thought of many questions. Where did you struggle over the gun? In the bedroom. I see.

Why do you use linoleum for a floor covering in the bedroom? Because it's easy to keep clean and because it's chic and because... Oh, what has that to do with Donald? I'm asking the questions, Miss Davis. Oh, yes, there were many, many questions. How long have you lived at that address? How long did you know Donald Martin? How long?

Have you ever bought any ammunition for that gun? What were you quarreling about?

It went on and on. And finally... Very well, Miss Davis. We shan't hold you. But don't leave London. And your mother is waiting for you. You'd better go home with her. We're sealing your apartment. Oh!

An inconvenient matter, violent death from a gunshot wound. Apartments are sealed, people investigate. One's whole life is turned inside out.

Then there are the experts. The scientific facts contradict some of Miss Davis's statements, Inspector. They do? For instance? There's no evidence of any scorching of the clothing around the bullet hole. From that fact and the spread of the smoke stain, I deduce that the gun was held from three to six inches from Martin's chest.

As the blood ran down the chest, he must have been standing at the time. It would be practically impossible for him to hold the weapon himself in that position. Could he have clutched the barrel, say, in an attempt to take it away from Miss Davis? In that case, his fingers would be singed, or at least blackened. They're not. I do not believe that the man was touching the weapon at all when it was fired. An embarrassing conclusion, to say the least.

There were other things. I've checked Martin's shoes at the morgue, Inspector. Well? If they struggled in that bedroom, on that polished linoleum floor, his shoes would have had to scratch the floor.

They're leather-soled, and they have metal taps on the tips. Very good. Another discrepancy. Now, Pepper, I think we'd better have a bit of a talk with the neighbors. Are you certain of that, Mrs. Merritt? I am positive. It's not the first time they yelled at each other, those two, and the walls are fizzed. Do you have it down, Pepper? Yes, sir. They had a quarrel about two weeks ago.

He left. She leaned out of the window, only half-dressed, and shouted at him, "'Laugh, baby, laugh for the last time.'"

And then she fired a gun at him. Thank you. Now then, Mrs. Merritt, before the shot last night, did you catch any of the words they said? Yes. Oh, no, sir. But, well, her bedroom is next to mine. And I heard her say as clear as day, and at the top of her lungs, I will kill you. Thank you, Mrs. Merritt.

Anything else? No, sir. Very well. Let's go, Pepper. All right, Pepper. I think we have the makings of a case. Pick her up. We'll book her for willful murder. And today, the little blue .22, which was to play such an important part in the case, can be seen among the other exhibits...

In the Black Museum.

As the inspector said, they felt they had a case. The evidence was piling up. Vivian Davis was arrested. Her defense counsel was a distinguished member of the bar. The prosecutor assigned was no less brilliant. But some of the conversation about the case was...

was, well, a lot less brilliant. Why, if Larry and I had stayed, we might have seen the whole thing. And darling, those letters. Imagine leaving letters like that lying in your bureau drawer where anyone might find them.

And you suppose the prosecution will use them for evidence? This is one trial I simply shall not miss. Let me say here and now, if May owns a gun, I'm walking out, and at once. But Viv always was unstable, you know. That's the kind who'll pull a gun on you when you least expect it. Not for me, old man. Not for me.

I always said she was no better than you'd think. Wild parties at all hours, firing guns around, drinking. Oh, I dare say the woman wasn't happy. But then who is? Now I ask you, who is? Poor Viv. I understand the food in prison is all starches. Oh!

Seen the headlines. This is a juicy one, what? I see a witness. You don't say. Really now, you don't say. They tried the case in public gossip long before it came to proper trial.

And when the proper trial began, the courtroom was crowded naturally with bright young women and polished young men, the familiars of the defendant. This, however, failed to ruffle the solemnity of a British court. I shall permit no demonstrations. At the least lapse from property quorum, I shall have the courtroom cleared. And that settled that. The trial proceeded.

Vivian Davis in simple black sat in the dock between the two wardresses assigned to guard her. On the witness stand, the pathologist repeated his evidence at his conclusions with the prosecution. There was no cross-examination.

With Inspector Summers, it was another matter. Inspector, you heard the prison doctor testify that when Miss Davis was admitted to the prison after her arrest, he found bruises on her arm and on one side. Yes, sir. And that such bruises might have been sustained in a struggle. Yes, sir. Very well.

Now then, in your experience, have you found that when one person handles a gun, that person's fingerprints are usually found on the weapon? That has been my experience. However, if two parties struggled for possession of a certain weapon, would there be fingerprints? In most cases, no, sir. They tend to smudge or eliminate each other's prints. This weapon, which you've identified and which has been entered in evidence as Exhibit A, did you...

Did you find this weapon at the scene of the alleged crime? I did. Did you examine it carefully? I did. Did you have it tested for fingerprints? I did. Did you find any? Yes, sir. How many tests? Only one set of prints were on that gun. Whose were they, Inspector? Now tell the jury, please, whose fingerprints were on that gun? Only my own. One more point, Inspector. Do

You stated that you found a bullet in the wall of the bedroom. Correct? Yes, sir. Have you any reason to believe this bullet was fired on the night of the alleged crime? It could have been fired at any time, I suppose. Thank you, Inspector.

That's all. Mrs. Merritt, the eager next-door neighbor, had her proverbial day in court. Yes, sir. Just as I told the inspector, she screamed at him, hanging out of the window only half-dressed, and then she fired a shot at him.

Counsel for the defense spent a little time in the cross-examination of Mrs. Merritt. Madam, did you actually see Miss Davis fire a pistol or gun of some sort at the deceased? I heard the shot after she yelled at him. You said she was only half-dressed at the time. Yes.

Is that correct? Yes, sir. Then you must have seen her. Well, I took one look, and after that I only listened. Why? Why, Mrs. Merritt? When a woman is in her condition, no other woman cares to watch her. I see. This is your opinion. It certainly is. Your Lordship, I respectfully request that the answers to the last two questions be stricken from the record as constituting an opinion and not evidence.

Further, on the grounds that opinions are not warranted, as the witness is not qualified as an expert. Well... The clerk will strike the last two answers from the record, and the jury is instructed to ignore the testimony. Proceed. No further questions. Thank you, Mrs. Nettis. Thank you.

Back and forth, the battle raged, a battle for a woman's life. A case for the Crown was ably presented. The defense, by cross-examination, by objections in the record, sought to upset testimony to establish points which could be played upon later, the climax of the trial, when Vivian Davis herself took the stand in her own defense.

Now, Miss Davis, you understand the seriousness of this situation. Of course. I refer to the testimony that you once fired a gun at Donald Martin from your bedroom window. He

Is this true? No, it's not true. What did happen that evening? He'd come to see me. He'd asked me for money to pay a gambling debt, and I refused. We quarreled, and he left. I was furious, and I called to him from my window. Then I went back into the room and fired one shot to make him think I'd killed myself. What happened then? Oh, Donald. Mr. Martin came rushing back, and we were friends again. Mr. Martin?

Miss Davis, have you ever pointed a weapon at Mr. Martin? No, never. Have you wanted to? No, never. Did you shoot him the night he died? No! Have you any recollection of his having spoken to you between the time he was shot and the moment he died? I'll never forget it as long as I live. What did he say? He said...

I wish the doctor would hurry. I want to tell him that this was an accident. It's not your fault. He said it over and over. And then he was dead.

Thank you, Miss Davis. You're a witness. Pull yourselves together, Miss Davis. Yes, yes, sir. Very well. I submit, Miss Davis, that the truth of your first public quarrel is, as it was stated by your previous witness, that you did fire out of your window at Mr. Martin. Oh, no, never. I fired in the room. I wanted to frighten him. Miss Davis, he

Is this your pistol? Yes. Is this the weapon which killed Mr. Martin? Yes. And on the night this gun, your gun, killed Mr. Martin, you had a quarrel, a second quarrel. Yes. You were, to put it simply, jealous of his behavior with other women. Oh, I was so jealous, I threatened to kill myself. You threatened to kill yourself? Yes.

Then why did you shout, I will kill you? No, no, no, I never said that. What did you say, Miss Davis? I, I never said I'll shoot myself. The other, I never said, why should I? I was jealous of them because I loved him. Oh, you've got to believe me. I loved him. I did. I did. I did.

There was more, much more, over and over. But they never managed to shake her on the essential points. I never pointed a gun at Donald in my life. And, of course... I never said I'd kill him. I said I'd kill myself. At long last, with Vivian Davis on the verge of collapse, the prosecutor let her go. Shortly thereafter, the defense rested. Summations were brief.

For the prosecution? This woman is guilty of the crime with which she is charged. There is no doubt in our minds, nor should there be any in yours, that she held the pistol and fired the shot. For the defense? It is clear that no woman kills the man she loves, despite the violence of their cause. This was an accident. It is clear that it was an accident. The presiding justice was clear and concise in his charge to the jury.

Gentlemen of the jury, in conclusion, let me advise you there are three possible verdicts you may return under the present indictment. Guilty of murder...

Guilty of manslaughter or not guilty of any offense. I commend the accused to your most painstaking deliberations. The jury filed out. I stayed out for two long, weary hours. There was chatter in the courtroom. How was this? But even the gossip was subdued. Everybody waited. Waited.

But it seems perfectly incredible. A murder trial, and I've been in on it since the beginning. Why, do hope the judge wasn't as much against her as he seemed to be. It's really too exciting for words. I've had more dinner invitations because I know Viv. Oh, well, after all, the poor girl might be hanged, you know. Oh, grisly thought.

Well, for my part, even if she gets off, there'll be one advantage. She'll never be my neighbor again, and that will be an improvement, I'd say. And at long last, the waiting was over. The prisoner arose in the dock, the judge's request. The foreman of the jury faced the prisoner in the courts. The age-old formula was intoned by the clerk. Ah! Ah! Ah!

Members of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict? We have. Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty of murder? Not guilty. Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty of manslaughter? Not guilty. Yet, despite that verdict...

The little blue .22 can be seen today among the exhibits in the Black Museum. Yes, they let Vivian Davis go free. In many minds, the question was and still is, did Vivian Davis get away with murder? Frankly, I don't believe anyone gets away with murder.

Murder stays with the killer, twisting mind and heart and soul even in the unsuspected and therefore unsolved cases. Where Vivian Davis was concerned, perhaps the real crime was insecurity and the kind of violent jealousy that grows from fear. I don't know. That's for the psychologists, not for you and I to decide. Meanwhile, the little blue 22 remains in its customary place in Scotland Yard, in the Black Museum.

And now, until we meet again next time in the same place and I tell you another story about the Black Museum, I remain, as always, obediently yours.

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W-A-T-E-R to 64,000. By texting 64,000, you agree to receive recurring automated marketing messages from Pocket Host. Message and data rates may apply. No purchase required. Terms apply. Available at pockethost.com slash terms. My heart is acting up a bit, and your constant shouting at me isn't helping it any. I don't need to pay you to tell me my heart is acting up. What I want to know is, how much time have I got? Well, that's difficult to say. If you avoid all excitement, I think I can say a year, possibly two. Hmm.

A year, possibly two. Yes, but only if you do as I say. For one thing, there's no reason you should insist on remaining in this darkened bedroom month after month. Why, it's been a year since you've been out of this room. Are you going to start on that again? This living in complete seclusion is bad for you. You should leave this room and see people, take an interest in life. No, Dr. Jeffries.

I won't have my maid pushing me around in a wheelchair, the object of everyone's pity. I prefer to remain in my room and have people think of me as I was, not as I am. As your physician, I insist. I said that I prefer to remain in this room and that's final. Please, Mrs. Richards, your heart. Then stop trying to make me do things I don't want to do. Very well. Only I can't see why you refuse to have any visitors.

Give you some interest in things. It may surprise you to know, Doctor, that I am expecting two visitors. Indeed? What made you change your mind? I think it's time I drew my will. Before I do so, I want to get acquainted with my only living relatives. My former husband's nephew and niece, Gerald and Millicent. I haven't seen them since they were children, and I'm curious to see what they've become.

I understand Millicent is an actress. An actress? You don't mean that your niece is Millie Richards, do you? Yes, have you heard of her? Of course. She's one of Broadway's leading actresses. I saw her in a play recently and thought she was excellent. She probably drinks and smokes and has been married a half a dozen times. I'm afraid I don't know anything about that. Before I draw up my will, I intend to learn everything about her and her brother Gerald.

He's 22 and probably never worked a day in his life. Aren't you being unfair, judging them before you've even seen them? Oh, perhaps. But I'll give them both every opportunity to prove they're worthy of the Richard fortune. They said they'd be here in time for lunch. They should be on their way now. THE END

Oh, my head. How's the hangover, brother dear? Painful, I hope? Millie, what am I doing in your car? Where are we going? Have you forgotten, darling? This is the day we were invited to visit Aunt Martha.

You remember Aunt Martha. She's the one with all that money. Save it, will you? I'm in no mood for your witticism. Well, considering I spent half of last night looking for you under nightclub tables, you might be a little more grateful. I can recall doing as much for you. Where are we, anyway? About 20 miles from Aunt Martha's. Oh, my head. What a night. Yes, wasn't it, darling? Everywhere I went looking for you, they gave me IOUs you'd left behind.

Exactly how much do you owe around town? Three months ago, it was $11,000. That means you probably owe twice as much by now. Look, Millie...

You've got to help me. If I don't clear up my debt soon, I'll be in real trouble. And what exactly am I supposed to do? You've got to lend me enough money to hold off my creditors. Lend you money? Oh, you may not know it, Gerald, dear, but I'm in far deeper than you are. But you were getting a thousand a week for playing the lead, and why not be happy?

How could you be in debt? It's really very simple. I was getting a thousand a week. I was spending two thousand. Oh, that makes everything just perfect. Both of us so deeply in debt, we probably won't dare go back to town. Perhaps after this visit to Aunt Martha, we'll be able to go back to town in different circumstances.

What do you mean? Have you forgotten Aunt Martha has something like four million dollars? So what? You think she'll lend us money to pay our debts after not even seeing us for 20 years? Gerald, you're a fool.

Why do you suppose she invited us to visit her? Because she's getting along in years and she has decided to make her will. Naturally, before she does so, she wants to see what we, her only relatives, are like. Melody, do you really think she'll leave us for money? If we make the right impression, there's no reason she shouldn't leave us all of it. All we have to do is convince Aunt Martha we deserve it. And how are we going to do that? By showing her we are simple, lovable, and unspoiled.

You remember the original role I played in I Dream of Love? Yes, of course. You weren't half bad. Half bad? I was superb.

The critics were mad about me. Brooks Archer said that in all his life... All right, all right. You were superb. What about it? Well, I think I'll play that role for Aunt Martha. Just a simple, unsophisticated girl, unspoiled by success. Well, maybe you can get away with it, but you know I can't act. How am I supposed to behave? You just play the strong, silent type and leave all the talking to me.

Well, I only hope you can sell the old lady on our charm. Darlene, you are forgetting I am, quote, Broadway's leading younger actress, unquote. When the curtain rings down on my special performance for Aunt Martha, the Richards' money will be ours.

Come in. Miss Richards and Mr. Richards are here, madam. Will you see them now or later? I'll see them now, Philip. Yes, madam.

Mrs. Richards will see you now. Thank you, Philip. Come in, Mildred Gerald. Well, it's been a good many years since we've seen each other, hasn't it? Yes, it's been a long time, Aunt Martha. Yes, I've been meaning to call on you forever so long, Aunt Martha. But my work has always interfered, and just at the last moment... Well, what finally brought you here? Well, when you said in your letter that you weren't feeling well, I simply couldn't stay away. I'm very touched.

Of course, the fact that you might get an inheritance has nothing to do with it. Why, Aunt Martha, what a thing to say. I'm not like that. Of course she isn't. Millie doesn't need money. She's one of the finest actresses on Broadway. Oh, I've heard. And what do you do for a living, Gerald? Oh, Gerald works for a Wall Street firm, Aunt Martha. Yeah. He works so hard. They pay him so little. I seem to remember that Gerald's father left him a sizable inheritance. What became of it? The inheritance? Yes.

Oh, that was lost in poor investment. Yes, I see. I'm afraid there's a good deal about you two I don't know. I haven't done very much and I haven't gotten very far, Aunt Martha, but Millie's really been a credit to the family name. Everyone's heard of her. Notoriety is hardly a guarantee of worth. Why, Aunt Martha. Now, see here. I want you two to be my guests for a week. Frankly, I want to know what you're like before I decide.

How to draw up my will. Yes, of course, Aunt Martha. But I hope you'll take care of yourself so you will live for years and years. Thank you, Millie. Now I must ask you to leave me. I'm a bit tired. But serve me, Aunt Martha. Of course, Aunt Martha. We'll talk some more tomorrow. I'm glad we're out of there.

She stares at you as if she could see right through you. The room's so dark it was hard to see her. But you can tell she can't last much longer. The main point is, did she fall for a little act? If you ask me, she wasn't exactly bowled over by your performance. Nonsense. I played my role perfectly. She's a bit suspicious now. That's only natural. But before I'm finished, she'll be eating out of my hand. Well, I certainly hope you're right. Just give me a week, darling, and you and I will be heirs to the Richards fortune. Oh!

A week passed, a week in which Millie was constantly by her aunt's bedside. Millie told her aunt about her Broadway career and read her notices from a large book of clippings. Martha Richards listened quietly, now and then venturing a question. And Millie became more and more certain she'd won the old lady over.

By the end of the week, she was quite sure that she'd convinced her aunt of her own simple, unspoiled character. Hello, Millie. Gerald, where have you been all night? I've looked every place for you. I spent the night in New York. You've been drinking. So what? You're a fool. What if Aunt Martha heard about it from the servants just when everything's working out perfectly? So everything's working out perfectly, is it? Yes, it is.

Last night Aunt Martha phoned New York. I listened in on the hallway extension. It was her attorney she was calling, and he's coming out here tonight to draw up her will. You don't say. Well, well. What is the matter with you? You're acting very oddly, Gerald. My dear Millie, it may interest you to know that the greatest performance of your career has gone unnoticed.

Why? What do you mean? You may be able to sweep a Broadway audience off its feet, but not Aunt Martha. Oh, I tell you, she believes in me completely. Oh, does she? While Aunt Martha was listening so devotedly to your every word, she had a private detective in New York at work investigating us. She had a private detective? Yes, dear sister. While making the rounds of the nightclub last evening, I learned that quite a few questions have been asked about us this past week. So that's what she's been up to.

Hiring a private detective to pry into our past. And you can guess what she'll do when she learns that I haven't any job and gambled my inheritance away. And what do you think she'll say when she hears you were named as correspondent in three divorce actions and were involved in the Wainwright scam? I'd like to scratch her eyes out.

playing with me like a cat with a mouse. Well, the game's up. We may as well go to our rooms and pack. And walk out on four million dollars? I should say not. There's no use being stubborn about it. We gambled and we lost. Tonight the lawyer will be here and she'll cut us off without a cent. There's nothing we can do about it. Well, I don't give up so easily. There must be something we can do. Well, what, for example? I don't know yet. Let me think. I won't go back to New York so deep in debt I can never get out.

For the rest of my life, I'd be hearing her voice. Millie, dear, I want you to tell me all about yourself. Where you've been and what you've done. Well, she won't beat me. Before I'll let her cut me off with a spin, I'll... Yeah. Oh, yes. What are you planning? Gerald...

Aunt Martha is not going to cut us out of her will. Yes? And exactly how are you going to prevent her? If we have nerve enough, we can stop her. We can inherit the whole fortune. Now you listen to me, Gerald. And listen closely. As Millie explained her idea to Gerald, his face whitened. But she scornfully beat down all his objections. And in spite of his fears...

In the end, he agreed to do as Millie suggested. Then in the hours that followed, Millie locked herself in her room and practiced her aunt's signature and her aunt's voice until she was satisfied she could imitate both perfectly. After that, there was nothing to do but wait tensely and nervously until 8 o'clock that night when Millie and Gerald quietly slipped down the hall to their aunt's room.

Millie, we can't go through with this. It's crazy. Be quiet, you fool. It's the only way out. What if we're caught? You know what that would mean. If you do as I say, we won't be caught. Now get hold of yourself and let me knock. You know exactly what you do. Yes. Yes.

Come in. Good evening, Aunt Martha. I hope you're feeling well, Aunt Martha. Oh, Millicent, Gerald, come in. Thank you. It's dark in here, Aunt Martha. Shall I turn on a light? No, that isn't necessary. I prefer the dark. Of course. Just as you say. Your voice sounds strange, Gerald. Is there anything wrong? Oh, no, of course not, Aunt Martha.

How do you feel tonight? I'm a little tired tonight. Oh? Gerald, perhaps you ought to fix Aunt Martha's pillows. She doesn't seem very comfortable. Oh, you needn't bother. I'm quite comfortable, thank you. Gerald, fix Aunt Martha's pillows. I can't go through with it. I can't. I should have known better than to count on you. What are you two talking about? What's going on? Nothing. Nothing important, Aunt Martha. Yes.

Let me fix this pillow for you. But I tell you, I don't want it, Viggo. But you do. Millie, don't. Millie! Take that pillow, will you? I can't breathe. Millie, don't. She's suffering. Oh, be quiet. If you haven't been there, I will too. Yes, I have. It's almost over. If this doesn't overtax her heart, nothing will. There. She's limp. She's not struggling anymore. I'll take the pillow away.

She's still alive. How do you feel now, dear Aunt Martha? Is there anything more we can do for you? You will kill me. Everything I've heard about you is true. But you won't ever get any of my money. Oh, my heart. She's gone. She's dead. Millie...

Her eyes are still open, staring at us as if she could... as if she could see right through us. Never mind her eyes. They can't bother us now. She's dead. Not from suffocation, but from a heart attack. I told you my plan would work. We... we killed... Nonsense! We simply helped nature take her inevitable course. You think of it that way and you'll feel better. You... you aren't... You... Well, I'm afraid we haven't time to discuss that. Aunt Martha's lawyer will be here in an hour. Now, will you do as I say or won't you?

Now that we've gone this far, I guess I have no choice. Thank heavens you have enough sense to see that. You do exactly as I say and we can't fail. Millie, the car just stopped in front of the house. Must be that lawyer, Jordan. Well, certainly it's punctual.

Are you ready for him? No, no, no. I need a little more shading under the eyes. Millie, hurry. You'll be here in a minute. I've never been late for a curtain yet, and I won't be late for this one. There. Now, you help me on with Aunt Martha's bed jacket. All right. Here you are. There. No, no. How do I look? You look exactly like Aunt Martha.

If I didn't know her body was in that closet, I'd swear you were. In the dim light of this room, no one can help but think I'm Aunt Martha. Yes, but what about your voice and the things you'll have to know? I have been practicing, Gerald. Listen to this. As mistress of this house, I answer only those questions I wish to answer. And I assure you I shall not be tripped up. Now, how does that convince you I can play the starring role of Aunt Martha? Yes, I'm convinced.

Millie, quick, get in bed. I just saw him coming. All right. Please stop shaking. I tell you, we can't fail. I shall give the greatest performance of my career. Come in. Good evening, Miss Richards. Good evening, Mr. Jordan. Please come in. Thank you.

Hope you're feeling well. I'm 67 and I feel 87. Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I don't think, Mr. Jordan, you ever met my nephew, Gerald Richards. Hello, Mr. Jordan. How do you do? Mr.

Mr. Jordan, I want to have a will drawn up and signed tonight. Tonight? Surely you can't be serious, Mrs. Richards. Fast holdings like yours require a will that will take days to draw up properly. All I want is a simple will dividing my entire estate equally between my nephew Gerald and my niece Millicent. But, Mrs. Richards... I'll be frank with you, Mr. Jordan.

I have a premonition that there is no time to wait for an involved will. I see. I've been feeling worse than I've admitted to Dr. Jeffries. Quite possibly, I won't be here tomorrow to sign a will. I surely hope you're exaggerating, Miss Richards. If I am, we can draw a new will later.

Tonight I won't rest easy until I know that my wishes have been put into writing. Very well, Mrs. Richards. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I left my secretary downstairs until I'd seen you. I'll just step out and tell her what you want. She'll draw up the papers in a very short time. Thank you, Mr. Jordan. I won't be long. Well, Gerald, feel better now? You fooled him, Millie. He's completely taken in. As soon as the will is signed, I'll get rid of him.

Thank goodness there's no danger of Dr. Jeffries getting here tonight. No, you might not fool him quite as easily. Well, he's attending a meeting of the State Society of Physicians. Wait a minute. Is Jordan coming back? Since all you want is a simple declaration, Mrs. Richards, my secretary won't take long over it.

Is this Millicent Richards, your niece, by any chance the Broadway actress? Yes. Have you seen her? Yes. I never miss any of her plays, if I can help it. Indeed. And what do you think of her? Well, she always puts on a good show, but privately I think she has a tendency to overact. Oh, you think she overacts, do you? Yes.

I take her last play, Why Not Be Happy. I think she played it much too hard for comedy. I'd have preferred to see an actress like Joan Walker in her role. The critics didn't agree with you. Gerald, will you please hand me Millicent's scrapbook? You'll find it on the desk there. Really, Aunt Martha, do you think... Gerald, hand me that scrapbook.

Very well. I can understand criticism when it's justified, Mr. Jordan, but it seems to me that you're going against my niece's huge public. Here's the scrapbook, Aunt Martha. Thank you, Gerald. Oh, just a moment, Mr. Jordan, and I'll read you what the critics had to say about Millicent's performance in Why Not Be Happy. Oh, here we are.

This is what Martin Walter's dramatic critic of the evening, Sentinel, had to say. Rarely in 30 years of theater going has this reviewer seen such a fine flair for comedy as was displayed last night by Millicent Richards in her new hit, Why Not Be Happy? And that, Mr. Jordan, is the opinion of one of the best critics in the country.

Well, I may be wrong, Mrs. Richards. Naturally, I was only venturing a personal opinion. Excuse me, Mr. Jordan. Yes, Miss Anderson. Finished already? Yes, sir. It's just a paragraph, as you instructed. Here's the original and the copy. Good. Now, let me see what you've written. Mm-hmm.

Yes, perfectly straightforward. Everything in order. Now we need witnesses. Miss Andrews will do for one, the butler for the other, if he's handy. He's just out in the hall. I'll get him in here. Thank you, Gerald. Now, Mr. Jordan, you're sure this will is going to stand up in court? Oh, yes, Mrs. Richards. But if it's probated, it'll certainly leave a good many unsettled problems to your ears. I'm sure they'll be able to handle them.

Oh, Phillips. Yes, madam. I want you to witness my will. Certainly, madam. Give me the will, Mr. Jordan. And the pen. Now. Thank you. Now, I sign here. Right at the bottom, Mrs. Richards. There. Now, the carbon copy. There. Now, I feel better. That does it, except for the witnesses. Now, Phillips, will you sign here? And here, please. Certainly, madam.

That's it. Now you, Miss Andrews. Excellent. Your will is signed at witness, Miss Richards. Oh, I'm glad. It wasn't too late. Now, if you don't mind, I'm very tired.

I'd like to be left alone. Of course, Mrs. Richards. Phillips, show Mr. Jordan and Miss Andrews to their rooms, please. Yes, madam. If you'll just follow me. Good night, Mrs. Richards. Good night, Mr. Jordan. I'll see you in the morning, I hope. Of course you will. They're gone. And the will is signed. See, I told you it would work. So far, but we aren't through this thing yet. Oh, don't be a fool. The money is as good as ours.

All we have to do is put Aunt Martha back in her bed and slip out of here, and tomorrow someone will find her dead, and you and I will inherit everything. Mrs. Richards. Mrs. Richards. Dr. Jeffries is here. Mrs. Richards, excuse me, but... Dr. Jeffries. Dr. Jeffries.

Dr. Jeffreys, come quick. But it's so dreadful. If only we'd known, if only we'd been able to help her somehow. To think of her dying alone in the night with nobody. Now there, Miss Richards, you must be brave. Your aunt wouldn't want you to take her death like this. You're very kind, Mr. Jordan.

She said only last night that she had a premonition she might not live much longer, and that she felt worse than she admitted to you, Dr. Jeffries. That's quite possible. She hated to seem ill or in any way not her old self. She didn't suffer, did she, Doctor? No, I'm sure it was all over very quickly. Her heart just gave out. She must have died shortly after you left her, or she's been dead about ten hours.

I really didn't take her seriously when she spoke of not living through the night. She seemed so strong when we were talking. As if she'd grown younger. And she and I were arguing. It was quite like old times. You and Mrs. Richards had an argument last night? Not an argument, really. They were just discussing my sister's ability as an actress, Doctor. Yes, Doctor. That's all it was.

I hope you won't mind, Miss Richards, but I told your aunt I thought you overacted your roles. Of course I don't mind.

What did she say to that? Oh, she almost hit the ceiling when I criticized you. She claimed you were the finest actress in the country. That Martha always was a dear. Strange that she should have said that, considering she never saw Miss Richards perform. Well, maybe she hadn't, but she opened a book of clippings about Miss Richards and read to me what one of the critics said about her niece. She did? She read you the review? Are you sure? Of course I'm sure. I see.

And was Miss Richards present at the time? No, I wasn't there, Dr. Jeffries. Why? Because I think, Miss Richards, that Mr. Jordan's criticism was justified. You do overplay your role. I beg your pardon. I never overplayed a role in my life. I'm afraid that you have. You overplayed your biggest role last night. Last night? What do you mean? Your Aunt Martha was an extremely proud woman, Miss Richards. She couldn't stand to be pitied.

Just a year ago, she became quite blind. Aunt Martha was blind? What are you saying? Her eyes were... Yes, they seemed very bright and penetrating. But they were sightless. No one outside this house knew the truth. Mrs. Richards refused to leave her room. Kept the light turned down low. Saw almost no one.

Thus she kept her secret. Oh, but, but, if Mrs. Richards was blind, how could she have read me that notice last night? She didn't, Mr. George. She did, she did. An egomaniac actress disguised as Mrs. Richards read her own notice to you, then forged Mrs. Richards' signature to a false will. Isn't that so, Mrs. Richards?

Go on, tell them, Millie. You were so clever. The greatest actress in the world. Nothing could go wrong. You had everything worked out to the smallest detail. Don't be quiet, you fool. No court in the world will believe them. I'll give a performance that will sweep a jury off its feet. They'll never commit me, do you hear?

This is the mysterious traveler again. What happened to Millie and Gerald? Oh, didn't you hear? They're both playing in a long run now. Life imprisonment.

The critics thought Millie's performance at the trial was superb, but the jury disagreed. They're inclined to think she had overacted. That recalls the case of another actor who tried to play the role of a dead man. He did it so realistically that they buried him and then...

Uh, you have to get off. Swear Maurice Tarplin, Mercedes McCambridge, Gladys Thornton, Martin Wilson, and Jimmy Lipton. Original music was played by Paul Taubman. Engineer, Alfred King. Sound, Walt Schaefer. The Mysterious Traveler is written, produced, and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Kogan. The Mysterious Traveler

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Mystery House. That strange publishing firm owned by Dan and Barbara Glenn, where each new novel is acted out by the Mystery House staff before it is accepted for publication.

Mystery House. Mystery House.

Hi, Mr. Glenn. Everybody else here for the Mystery House novel trial? Oh, yeah, here and waiting. This murder for laughs looks like quite a story, too. Well, it certainly does. We were afraid you weren't going to make it, Art. Oh, did you rehearse while you were waiting for me? Well, of course not. We couldn't rehearse without you. All we could do was sit and wait. Oh, I could have furnished plenty of entertainment, Mrs. Glenn. But we couldn't rehearse without the whole cast being here, Tom. Well, sure we could. You forget, you only need one man to rehearse this part of the show.

Okay, places, everybody. Set the scene, Tom. Murder or laughs?

Tonight's story opens in the private office of Captain Corlett, a conscientious police executive. Clayton Rogers, a police reporter, barges into the office, says Corlett looks up from a letter. Hey, why don't you knock before... Oh, it's you. Right, Captain Corlett. What?

What's the matter? Oaks are bothering you again? It's a wonder I got any stomach left with all the worry that campaign of yours is causing me, Rogers. The Herald is the champion of community spirit, Corlett. If the police force doesn't function properly, it's up to the Herald to act as the voice of the people. You sure think you're a smart guy, don't you, Rogers? Smarter than most of your cops, Corlett. Yeah. You reporters all feel that way. You've got all the answers on paper. You can sit at the typewriter and solve every crime that ever went on the books. You can... Oh, no. Oh, no.

Go on, Captain. You interest me. Yeah, well, I'm just annoying my ulcer. It rolls off you like water off a duck's back. Listen, the police force has a tough job. Not enough men, not enough money to get the kind of men I want. Politicians trying to run my department for me. Which ones, Captain? I'll be delighted to help. You just name them. Yeah, and lose my job. Yeah, I know.

You're altogether too smart for your age and size, Rogers. Thanks, Captain. I wish the big boss would feel that way about it. I'm surprised Mary Cruz hasn't pounded some sense into your head. Now, speaking of Mary Cruz, there's a subject we agree on. What she sees in you is beyond me. A guy who makes his living by writing half-truths and distortions... Oh, lay off, Corlett. You're just sore because we've got you dead to rights. You're the one competent cop on the force and you know it. That's not so.

You think it's smart to sound off about incompetent policemen. Well, let me tell you something. You put yourself in their spot and you wouldn't be doing half the job most of them are doing. Don't kid yourself, Corlette. I'd be doing a whale of a lot better job than they're doing. This is an age of scientific crime detection and you don't have a competent man in a carload. I'd like to give you a little job and let you see just how good you are, Sonny. That might not be a bad idea, Corlette, but you wouldn't dare. No? No.

If I solved a case that had you stumped, I'd never let you forget it. And neither would the Herald. We'd talk about it from now till kingdom come. Maybe I've got a case that I don't think you could solve, wonder boy. Huh? Are you leveling? Do I sound like I'm kidding?

Listen, mister, you take this baby on and I'll let the opposition newspapers know about it. And if you flop, you get the razzing of the century. You have to promise you wouldn't let your cops interfere with me. Well, I'll even help you any way I can. I'll get you all the help any man on the force could get. Ah, you don't mean that. If I took it, you'd do anything you could to make me fall down on the job. No, no.

Because it happens, Rogers, that I'd a lot rather catch a murderer than escape a horse laugh from the Herald. Now, you solve this one, and the Herald can laugh at me from now on until I retire. What is it? That's a bit of a real murder story breaking in a couple of weeks. Say, if you've been holding out on me... I'm not holding out on you. Well, how about it? I'll take it. It's a deal. What's the case? Well, you remember that accident case we got yesterday?

Hmm? Can't say I do. Yeah, a cab starter standing in front of the Carlton Arms Hotel. One of those big cement flower pops up on the ledge of the building. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I remember now. It fell off and hit him. He died instantly. You sure it fell off, Roger? Why, sure. Now, read this. Came in this morning's mail. Hmm. An address to you. What is it? Read it and see. Dear Captain, you and your comedy cops are going to get a chance to do a lot of laughing.

There's something basically funny about a man being killed by a falling flowerpot, isn't there? That chum was a product of murder for laughs. How do you like our work? You'll get a chance to snicker at more of it. Very truly yours, murder for laughs. Hey, is this on the level? You know as much about it as I do. But...

Somebody who wanted to get your goat could have read about the accident and written this letter. That's the first thing I thought of, Rogers. So I went out with a couple of men. That flower pot had been built right into the ledge and had been broken loose with a chisel. But there had to be some motive.

Sane men don't murder just for laughs. Sane men? No. Look, I checked that cab starter from the cradle to that flowerpot. He was a harmless little guy, the kind that nobody even knows. Oh, there had to be a motive. You can't... Well, you find me a motive, bright boy, and I'll bow low three times. You just... Oh, hi, Mary. Oh, morning, Mary. Hi. Hi.

I've got a little story for your paper. Your pal Rogers has just taken over a case for me. Hey, now, wait a minute. Listen, Corlette, this is no time for horseplay. I've got a case for you. What are you talking about? I got a phone call about a half an hour ago from a woman who said she was Mrs. Martin Carver. Claimed she had a big story for me. Well, there was something phony about it. Somehow it didn't quite sound like a woman's voice. So I decided to check. Now, there wasn't any Mrs. Martin Carver, and the address was a vacant lot, I'll bet.

The boys are having fun with you again. There was a Mrs. Martin Carver, and the address was right. And Mrs. Carver was there with her head bashed in with a rolling pin. What? The woman was dead. Ah, probably a disgruntled husband. Got sore arms. The neighbors said her husband's overseas. Been there for seven or eight months. No enemies that they knew of. Oh, wait a minute, wait a minute. Hello. What? Telegram for me. What does it say? What? What?

Repeat that. No, never mind, never mind. I heard you. What's the matter? There goes my ulcers again. Just when I think I'm getting my stomach all calmed down... Oh, for the love of Mike, what was it? It was for you, wise guy. A telegram addressed to me. And it said, being hit over the head with a rolling pin has always been funny, hasn't it? Murder for laughs. But then the same murder... Listen, who would... Don't ask me, Superman. This one goes right into your department. Remember?

The End

Well, any luck, Hawkshaw? No, not so far, Mary. I hope you realize that Captain Corlett's taking you for a ride, but good. He'd have given me an ordinary case. Alibi-ing already? No, but hang it, not a clue. Any connection between the two victims? None whatsoever. I'm satisfied of that. And no motive for either murder. Oh, there must have been. I'm almost convinced there wasn't.

It's almost as if those killings were what the murderers said they were. Murders for laughs. Oh, don't be ridiculous. I'm not Murray. It's entirely possible that a maniac could kill for the joy of killing. And if he happened to have a weird sense of humor... You're getting desperate.

Does Captain Corlett have any clues? No, that's one consolation. His comic cops haven't been able to do any better than I have. Well, they better not, Hawkshaw. Because if they do, every paper in town is going to give you the full preface. I guess I can take it. You won't get a chance to take it. Can you imagine compass old Conrad keeping a reporter who's given the opposition a chance to give the Herald a horse laugh? Hey, I hadn't thought of that. Well, you better think of it, mister. Let's go up to Corlett's office and see what's going on. Okay.

I hope he's... Hello, Miss Cruz. Oh, hello, Annie. Sorry, I can't use any paper flowers today. I'm not selling any paper flowers to you, Miss Cruz. Have the cops been picking on you again? Oh, they never quit, Miss Cruz. Chasing me out of office buildings, bringing me into the jail...

And I ain't hurting nobody, Miss Cruz. Oh, the big bullies. I'll speak to Corlette about it. Oh, she won't do no good, Miss Cruz. He told me there'd been too many complaints about me making a pest of myself. And the next time I was brought in, he was going to send me to an institution. I ain't crazy, Miss Cruz. You

You know that. Of course you aren't, Annie. But it does irritate some people when you try to sell them your flowers. When they say no, if you just leave quietly... But everybody always says no, Miss Cruz. Nobody'd ever buy if I didn't use the whammy. Say...

Did anybody ever have bad luck, Annie, when you cast your evil spell on them? The whammy? Mm-hmm. Oh, you bet, Mr. Rogers. Terrible things happen to people when Annie puts the whammy on them. Like what, Annie? Oh, I wouldn't dare to tell you, Mr. Rogers.

Oh, come on. I wouldn't tell anybody. Well, like the starter over at the Carlton Arms. He didn't do very well after he got the whammy, did he? You mean the one who was hit over the head with a flower pot? Sure. Ha!

I bet he wished he hadn't laughed about the whammy. Annie, Annie, did you ever put the whammy on a Mrs. Martin Carver? Oh, I don't know. You know, the name ain't familiar. But I sure put a good one on that uppity actress in the Carlton Arms. Only this morning. Who? That actress.

Think she's so high and mighty, sneering at me. How horrible, she says, when I shows her my flower. What's her name? Oh, let's see. Adriana something or other. Adriana Bird? Yeah, that's her. Oh, my flower's horrible, will she? Say, Mr. Rogers, couldn't you use a nice lapel flower? Only a quarter? Sure, Annie, sure. Here.

Come on, Mary. Where? Up to Captain Corlett? No, don't you remember? We have an appointment to see Adriana Burr. Glad you mentioned it, Annie. Oh, yes. Goodbye, Annie. I'll go along with you. Maybe she's ready to take back the whammy by now. Maybe I can sell her some flowers. Why, okay, Annie. That might not be a bad idea.

Come along. I don't like this, Mary. You said she wasn't answering her phone. There's nothing unusual about that. If you were working in a show every night, you wouldn't get up in the morning either. We've got to talk to her. You suppose she'll buy some flowers? I don't know, Annie. I hope so.

I can't believe that what you're thinking is right. Why not? It only just couldn't be. Nonsense. I think we've gotten a break, Mary. A crazy break. It all ties together. No answer. I wonder if we should break in. Well, if nothing's wrong, you'll be in trouble. I'm afraid there's not much danger of that. Stand back. Oh, how terrible.

She's dead, isn't she? Yeah. Not much question about it. Smothered. Something stuffed with cotton and then laced tight around her head. It's a girdle. Girdle? Not an instrument for murder. Hey, just a minute. What? The note in the hand you made? Yeah. What does it say? It's typed. It says, Comedians seem to get a lot of laughs with references to girdles. Funny, huh? Murders for laughs.

Is the mysterious murder for laughs a person or more than one person? And what's the reason behind these killings?

We'll find out in the second act of tonight's story. Meanwhile, here's a brief message from our sponsor. And now, act two of Murder for Laughs. The scene is Captain Corlett's office, and both Rogers and Mary Cruz are there. A stranger is being questioned by Corlett, as Annie whimpers in the background.

Oh, please, Captain, I didn't mean to... Ah, quiet, Annie, quiet. Adriana Burr had no enemies that you knew about, eh, Mr. Mace? None whatsoever. She was one of the most popular women in the theater. Generous, gracious... It was the women. I put the women on her. What are you going to do with this woman, Captain? I don't know, poor devil. Pretty safe bet that we never will get the whole story from her. Yeah, I don't suppose. We'll put her away, of course. Yeah, but I'm wondering about something, Mace.

I wonder if somebody didn't put her up to killing Miss Burr. Nobody could. Adriana had no enemies. How long have you and Miss Burr been married, Mr. Mace? Why, seven years. See here, you don't know. No, no, I don't think you had anything to do with it.

But Annie here didn't have the, well, the mentality to figure out such goofy murders. She's been sought to police for a long time, Corlette. You just hate to admit that I found your killer for you, don't you? Look, Rogers, if I really thought you had the murderer... Hey, Scott, Corlette, what do you want? Annie admits that she put the whammy or whatever she calls her crazy curse on two of them.

She told Mary and me how the police had been shoving her around. And she wanders all over town. Nobody pays much attention to her. She had plenty of opportunity to commit all three of the murders. Yes, but so well they did it. I ought to be able to sell flowers for even good now. What do you need, Corlette? You have to see her kill somebody? It seems to me you're making it tougher than you need to. Poor Annie. Yeah, poor Annie. That's just the point.

She didn't commit any of these murders. Not a blessed one. I've given you some facts to back up my theory, Corlette. Yeah? I can give you some facts to back up mine. I don't know what they'd be. Well, now, Annie isn't what I'd call a comedian. That's beside the point. She didn't commit those murders because she didn't write those notes. Did you, Annie? Oh, but they're whammy on him, and it works.

I guess maybe you'll be afraid of me now. You won't shove me around anymore, will you? I'm not shoving anybody around, Annie. Now, don't you worry. Listen, Corlette. I'm demanding that you put her under arrest. Well, I'm not doing it. If you don't, I'll smear you all over the Herald. I'll take my facts to the public. I'll run you right off the police force. I wouldn't try it, Rogers. You've gotten into my hair plenty and I've stood still for it. But you go breaking that kind of a story and you'll wash yourself up. Are you threatening me?

I'm not so sure these murders weren't your work, Rogers. What? What are you talking about? All right, it makes sense. Just as much sense as what he's been saying about Annie. He's been on an assignment to smear the police force with a flock of stories. So first he makes us look bad with a series of comic opera murders. And then he makes himself the big hero by finding a killer. Isn't that a bit far-fetched, Captain? No more than what he's been yipping about Annie. Let me get this straight.

You're accusing me of having murdered these people just to make the police force look bad, huh? That's right. But you couldn't make an idiotic thing like that stick, not in a million years. Go ahead and try it if you want to. I'm going back to the office and write my story. You're forgetting something, Rogers. Maybe I can't make my story stick, but I can keep you from making a fool of yourself. Of you, you mean? I'm putting you under arrest for these murders, Rogers. You...

You're joking. No, I'm not. Well, you can't arrest me. I've done nothing and... I wouldn't get any closer to that door if I were you, Rogers. You're under arrest. One move and I shoot.

Did you get any more information out of that woman that, uh... That Annie kept? No. What kind of information do you expect me to get from her? She's people-minded. People-minded or not, she ought to be put away.

You've done that, haven't you? No, I haven't even done that. He let her go and kept Clayton Rogers in jail. It's none of my business, Corlette, but it looks to me like you're... Oh, hello, Annie. Folks here are pretty worried about you. Oh, I'll get along all right. Now I know how well the whammy works. The funny thing about the whammy, Captain, I wasn't... Oh, stop it, for heaven's... Annie, Annie, what's that on your hand? Why...

Blood, Miss Cruz. Blood? Sure. I tried to wear me on a guy right after I left here to see if it really worked. He got real nasty with me about buying flowers, so I put it on him good. Rents the parking lot downstairs, he does. But that blood. I'm coming to it.

I come back like you told me, Captain. But I decide to see how the whammy's working, if it's started yet. There's nobody around the park and not, so I go into the little shack. And there he is. He was dead. Dead? How had he been killed?

It was kind of peculiar. Hat pin jabbed through his heart with this piece of paper struck right on the hat pin. I tore it off. It's all bloody. Here, give it here, give it here. You read jokes about people getting jabbed with hat pins. Pretty funny. Yes? Murder for laughs. Oh,

I guess that convinces you, doesn't it, Corlette? Convinces me of what? That Annie's the killer. It doesn't convince me of anything of the kind. But you surely don't think I killed this parking lot attendant, not while I was in jail. I never thought you killed anybody, Roger. Put that woman under arrest and get it over with, Captain. You just keep away from me. You've picked on me enough. Look, Annie...

Did anybody ever tell you to try to sell flowers to that cab starter at the Coffin Arm? No. I got a right to sell flowers wherever I want to. I know.

Did anybody ever tell you to try to sell your flowers to any of these other people? No. Nobody but that uppity actress. What? She was the only one. Oh. And somebody told you to try and sell her some flowers. Sure. This man right here. He said she liked flowers and she'd buy lots of them. And she didn't. Hmm?

How about that, Mace? You tell Annie to pester your wife? Why, of course not. Adriana hated that sort of thing. You did so? You told me? You said she'd buy lots of flowers. For the love of heaven, Corlette, what difference does it make? Put her in jail before she kills someone else. You didn't tell Annie to talk to your wife, Mace? Why, certainly not. You surely won't take the word of a crazy... I don't know what I'll take, Mace.

You, uh, loved your wife, did you? Yes. Yes, of course I loved her. Mm-hmm. You ever have any fights with her? No. No, we got along beautifully. She was beautiful, talented, successful woman. She... I think I'll do a little checking there, Mace. But there's nothing to check. You have the murder, you have the motive, you have everything. Well, I'll check anyway. Well, suit yourself, but... I don't see why... Because I think you killed your wife, Mace. What? Why, that's as idiotic as...

As, uh, the rest of these murders? No, no. I don't think so, Mace. You and your wife are living at the Carlton Arms. Annie hung around there a lot. Sure, she hung around there. And all the murders have been right in that vicinity. Doesn't that prove... How were you yesterday morning when your wife was murdered, Mr. Mace? Why, over at the theater, I suppose. For how long? I... I don't know. But this murder was one of a group. Anybody see you at the theater? Why, I don't know. Listen, I won't stand for this. Sit down.

I don't have to check on you and your wife, Mace. I've already checked, right after the murder. Just wanted to see if you'd deny you were having trouble with her. But I don't see what difference that makes. This was one of a series... I know. One of the murders for laughs. Only this one wasn't for laughs. Your wife had been to a lawyer, Mace. She was suing for divorce and demanding an accounting of $200,000. She claimed you'd stolen. There was nothing to it. Adriana, well...

You. You.

You must be mistaken. Oh, I'm not mistaken. When I turned Annie loose, I had her followed. But somebody else followed her, too. Followed her until she put her whammy, as she calls it, on the parking lot guy. No, no, that's a lie. The cop who followed Annie ain't much on imagination, Mr. Mace. He couldn't make a description to fit you that well, not if he deliberately tried.

You're under arrest, Mace. No, you can't do such a thing. I have some rights. Once we had a suspect, we could do a lot. That rolling pin came from a store near the Carlton Arms. The clerk remembered selling it to a man. A man who didn't look like the kind of a guy who'd bake very much bread. We found a chisel in your suitcase. And I imagine we'll find the hat pin originally belonged to Adriana Burr. I think... You've thought too much already, Captain. Colette, look out! He has a gun! Yes, you bet I have a gun. And this murder won't be for laughs.

If you'd had any imagination, you'd never in the world have suspected me to put that crazy flower woman in jail. Well, thanks to your stupidity, you found me out. Thanks to your stupidity, you're going to die for it. Look out for it! My ulcer will bother me a lot more than that kind of shooting, Mace. My wrist! You shot my wrist? Yeah. I could have killed you. But a murderer like you doesn't deserve that easy an out.

I want to see if you laugh in the electric chair. Thank you.

The End

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

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We'll be right back.

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Hi, this is Randy Stone. I cover the Nightbeat for the Chicago Star. Stories start in many different ways. This one began with a brawl in an alley and ended up with a murder that just missed. ♪♪ Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone. ♪♪

Dayside, a reporter more or less walks in the sun. He talks to people in banks, offices, on street corners, doctors, druggers, housewives, salesmen, ballplayers. He gets a good look at their faces and they get a good look at him. But nightside is different. Stories are different, personnel different. Pugs, gangsters, singers, police, yeah, and lovers. Nobody hardly ever gets a real good look at anybody's face. Maybe it's better that way.

Sometimes you see things in eyes that you don't want to see and feel things in looks that you don't want to feel. But I'm an after-hours boy and that's what makes my copy. Like last Tuesday night, I was strolling down Rush Street wondering if I'd be able to find a story somewhere in one of those sleazy gambling houses or bars or clip joints.

I found one, not in any one of those places, but in an alley in the shadow of a cheap two-story apartment house. There were two men struggling. One was giving the other the full treatment. I figured two rummies having it out over the last drink in the bottle or a tap on the head robbery. Hey, what's going on there? When they saw me coming, the tall one ran off in the opposite direction. I went over to help the other one slump down in the alley. All right, now take it easy, old-timer. You're all right. Thank you, sir.

Thank you most kindly. I'm afraid I got the worst of that. I'm afraid you did. You'll need a little first aid. Yes, I... All right, look, you stay right here. I'll phone the police and... No, please, please. I'd rather you wouldn't. This is a private matter and I don't want the police notified. Now, if you'll just give me a little assistance, I'll thank you for your concern and be on my way.

Well, wherever you're going, mister, you aren't going to be able to get there without help. Maybe I'd better go with you. That would be most kind of you, sir. I'll put your arm over my shoulder. Ah, yes, yes. I'm indebted to you.

I shall see that you are repaid for your efforts on my behalf. Yeah, I know. Sure. Sure you will. You'll remember me in your will. Easy now. Your name, sir? Stone. Randy Stone. I'm happy to meet you, Mr. Stone. My name is Noah Arnold. Arnold? Seems to me I should know that name. Well, perhaps you do. Wait a minute. You see, I'm Judge Noah Arnold. Chicago District Court. And he was...

As soon as we got out in the street light, I looked him over. I recognized him from pictures I'd seen many times in my own paper. And I thought he was some old bum in an alley ball who didn't want me to call the police because he was afraid he was liable to get himself booked for vagrancy. After all, how often are you going to find a full-fledged judge getting mauled by a hoodlum in an alley? Well, I hailed a cab, took him over to his place on Riverside. We broke out the iodine and gauze compresses and patched him up, and then we broke out some rye. Here you are. Thank you. Thank you.

Ah, that's much better. Well, Judge, I guess you'll live now. Thank you kindly, sir. I suppose I owe you an explanation of what I was doing on Rush Street, Mr. Stone. You don't owe me anything, Judge. I think I should tell you that after the name Stone come two more words. Chicago Star. You're a newspaper reporter? Yes, I'm one of those. When a man in your position takes a beating in a Rush Street alley and doesn't yell copper, somebody's liable to think it has the makings of a good newspaper story.

So if you're trying to keep something to yourself, Judge, I'd better run along and get my ears out of here. Wait, wait, Mr. Stone, wait. You're the man I can talk to, I'm sure. And I must talk to someone. Well, I'd be glad to listen, Judge. Thank you. This whole affair concerns my daughter, Linda. She lives in Falco Arms. On Rush Street? Yes, it doesn't seem plausible, does it? Not exactly, Judge. Falco Arms isn't what you'd call a little bit of heaven. To say the least.

Mr. Stone, in the last year, Linda's become interested in the psychological aspects of crime. And she felt that she must reside in an atmosphere such as Rush Street affords. And study firsthand the operations and the lives of some of the criminal elements known to reside there. Well, that's certainly the place to write an encyclopedia on the subject.

She quarreled when she disclosed her intentions, but Linda's a headstrong girl, and she moved out of his apartment. And you went down there tonight? To try and persuade her to return home. Mr. Stone, I've practiced law, and I've sat on the bench some 35 years. I'm supposed to know what is right and what is wrong. I even sentence people to punishment according to my convictions. But in my own daughter's case, I'm afraid to pass judgment.

afraid to say what I think. What do you think, Judge? That my daughter is not just objectively interested in crime, but instead that she's had a taste of the gutter and she likes it. He seemed very old and very tired and very sad and I wanted to get out of there and not listen to him anymore. He took me to the door, shook my hand weakly and I was out of the night again.

But I couldn't stop thinking about the way the judge had looked at me with helplessness in his eyes, and I couldn't forget the picture I'd seen on his desk. So I dropped by the Falco Arms apartment house on Rush Street to have a look at Linda Arnold. It's a pretty drab place with a pretty colorful landlady. No, she ain't here. She ain't been in here all afternoon and all evening. Everybody around here thinks I run a regular secretarial service. What do you think I do, keep my eye on everybody every minute they come in and out of the door?

I gotta eat and sleep and drink. And good night. I didn't do much good there, so I dropped downstairs at the Falco bar and found myself asking a question of my old friend Al the mixer. One beer, two bits. Al, ever heard of a girl named Linda Arnold? Linda Arnold? No. She lives upstairs in the Falco arms. I thought she might drop in here occasionally. In here? No. No.

I saw her picture tonight. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, 23... Or four, maybe. Yeah. Now... Oh, Al. Now, uh...

Try me another question. Another question like what? Like does this doll you're asking about travel around with a guy named Rocco Daly? Well, does she? Maybe. Sounds like the dame I see him with. Who's Rocco Daly? A hood with a look, Randy. Slow and sweet when it does the most good. Fast and hard when that does the most good. You know him well? No, no. Just to look at. Now, the girl, she's swift and soft and listens to him like he was somebody.

But she doesn't belong with him, not his kind. I'd like to meet Rocco Daly. I'd like to meet this girl of his. Oh, that's nice. I'll introduce you. Hmm? That's them that just walked in. Over there in the corner having a schlong. Thanks, thanks. I'll introduce myself, Al. I remember what I said about him, Randy. Good morning, dear Al.

Hello, Rocco. How's tricks? I don't know you, Mr. Beat it. Yeah, I don't know you either, but I'd like to. Oh, suppose you tell me why. I'd like to say hello to this pretty girl. Go on, beat it. I'll say hello anyway. Hello, Linda. How are you? Who are you? Do you know this guy, Linda? No, Rocco. I never saw him before in my life. You're telling me the truth, baby? Why, sure. Sure she's telling me the truth, Rocco.

She never saw me in her life, same as you. You never saw me either. My name is Randy Stone. I'm a reporter. Well, blow off. Get lost, scram, drift, before I run you through a typewriter full of knuckles. I got friends around here, too, Rocco. The bartender, the owner, those three fellows over at that booth. Go on, you bother me. Linda, I'm a friend of your father's. I came here to see you, but it doesn't look like we can do much talking with Junior here around. What about my father? Go on, beat it, Stone. You see, we really can't do much talking with him around. We really should talk, but I'll see him.

It worked. She started to get up and follow me, but he pulled her back in the booth with him. I stepped outside and waited. A couple of minutes later, she came out alone. Mr. Stone, I only have a minute. Please tell me why you've been looking for me. As I said, Linda, I'm a friend of the judge. My father. Mr. Stone, tell him I'm not in any difficulty. Tell him I know exactly what I'm doing and that I think it'll be invaluable when I'm practicing law. You sure you aren't going a little too far?

Did my father pose that question? No, no, I did. He doesn't even know, Rocco. Your father was beaten up in an alley tonight when he came down looking for you. Oh, no. Oh, yes. Was he hurt badly? Well, not too much. Lucky for him, I came along in time. The brave man beating him up ran when I yelled at him. The criminal element, you know. He shouldn't have come down here. He doesn't know about these things. And you do, huh? Look, don't you think you ought to go home right now, sort of straighten it all out? Yes, and I will, Mr. Stone. I...

But I can't. Not now, not tonight. Why? I've got something terribly important to do. I simply can't tonight, but first thing in the morning. Well, then, thanks for that much. Oh, Linda. Yes? Be careful of Rocco. I've seen his kind. Don't worry, Mr. Stone. I can take care of myself. Four years of college, two years of law school, good clothes and nice friends don't exactly equip you to handle the Rocco dailies on this earth. But then who was I to jump in and tell her what I knew about Rocco?

About that time it dawned on me I didn't know anything about him, so I put in a call to find out. The paper called me back ten minutes later. Got the dope for you, Randy. Shoot. Daly Rocco Daly, age 29, 14, arrest two convictions, both for burglary. First sentence by Judge Connors, second sentence Judge Arnold. What was that last name? I said the last time he was sent up it was Judge Noah Arnold, did it?

Suddenly, Linda Arnold's association with Rocco Daly took on all sorts of horrible new aspects. You can find them in the dictionary, all under revenge. I didn't like the setup one bit. I grabbed a cab and headed for her place. She was in this time. Her door was standing wide open. She was sitting on the edge of a sofa in the half dark, staring out at nothing. There was a little ring of white around her lips. A nickel-plated .38 was sitting on her left. Oh. Oh, Mr. Stone.

I came here to wait, just as Rocco told me. Yeah, that's right, Linda. Where'd you get the gun? Oh, this? Rocco gave it to me. Uh-huh. Let's see it. Why not? It's been fired. Yes. Yes, that's quite right. That's exactly right, Mr. Stone. It's been fired six times. Yeah? At who? Where? What's been going on? I'd imagine that... My mouth doesn't seem to work right.

It doesn't take very long at all. Linda, what are you talking about? You say that you die in an electric chair very fast. I won't mind at all. I won't mind. Now, you listen to me. What is it? What have you done? What are you trying to say? It doesn't take any time at all. I won't mind it. Are you trying to tell me that you killed somebody tonight? They go off so quickly, so quickly. They're empty all of a sudden. And then you see a man crumple and fall, and you see his blood on the floor, and you...

She's dead. I wanted to know about crime. Now I know all about it. Mr. Stone, tell me. Am I a good killer? Am I? Am I? NBC is bringing you Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone.

If the chimes shudder a little on Sunday afternoon, well, they know the mystery and peril in store with men of action like Mike Waring, better known as the Falcon. After the Falcon, it's the widely acclaimed dramatic series High Adventure. Then the big guy steps in. And when you hear the big guy telling chilling bedtime stories to his children, they're not make-believe. The new private eye, Charlie Wild, concludes with a few casual and somewhat deadly homicides.

The chimes mean mystery and action this Sunday afternoon on most NBC stations. Now back to Nightbeat and Randy Stone. Linda Arnold was too broken up to say anything logical at the moment, so I flagged a cab, put her in it, and told her to drive it ahead from my place. On the way, she said not a word. When we got to my place, I thought the thing to do first was to pour a couple of drinks into her before I started asking questions, and that's just what I did.

She was better, but she still had a lost look in her eyes. Stop staring at me. What do you want me to say? Well, anything that'll make sense. I want to help you. I'm sorry I dropped the glass. That's all right. If I'm going to help you, I have to know more than I do. I... I can't tell it. Well, try. It'll ruin him. His daughter. A common murder. Linda, the more you cry, the more time we're wasting. Come on. Please snap out of it. It's just that I'm so mixed up. All right, I'll try. Good.

Rock O'Daly said he was going to pull a burglary. I tried to talk him out of it. I even offered him money if he needed it, but he just laughed. Now, wait a minute, wait a minute. Start back further. How'd you ever get tied up with Rock O'Daly? Well, my father made arrangements so our college class could visit some prisons. We visited Joliet one afternoon. I started talking with one of the prisoners. It was Rock O'Daly. Scared, honey? I won't bite you.

I'm not scared. Of course, they got these bars here for a good reason. I'm a dangerous member of society. I might kill and steal and burn and do all kinds of nasty things if they let me as much as put one leg outside on the streets. Well, you did do something to get in here, didn't you? Oh, sure. Sure, I was the West End Terrorist.

Hey, get your pencil and your notebook out, and I'll tell you all about it. Let's see now. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. One my old man stole, of course. I went to the best schools, met the best people, played polo and yachting, all that stuff. One day, my old man lost everything in the stock market, and I couldn't stand it. Here he was, down to his last dollar cigar.

and my poor old lady with only one jar of caviar left in the icebox. It was enough to drive any sensitive young man like me to a life of crime. Now get out of here, you society thrill-seeker, and leave me alone before I pull these bars apart and teach you something. If you wouldn't mind, would you tell me calmly and politely what you did and how you got here? Calmly and politely. All right, you blue-nose busybody, I'll tell you. I was born in a bed you wouldn't be found dead in.

I grew up without enough to eat or enough soap to wash with, so I learned to take little things I needed here and there wherever I could find them. And the bigger I got, the bigger things I took. And one day they caught me. But I didn't care because I had 22 good years when they didn't catch me. Now put that in your notebook. I'm sorry. Sorry? You're about as sorry as the guy who pinched me.

All you're looking for is a good story to bring back to your society, sisters. Mr. Daly, you're just wrong. I'm sincerely interested in criminal problems. You see, my father is a judge. Oh, now, lady, don't I know it? Your father's the man who put me in here. Two to five years. I didn't know. You talk about finding out about crimes.

Well, you'll never learn anything about it in that gold-plated mansion on Riverside. You've got to get down with the people where the pinch is on and find out firsthand. I'd like to. How can I do it? Well, it's easy. I'll be out of here in four months, August 1st. And I'll show you enough about crime to fill 15 notebooks like that one. All right, Mr. Daly. I'll meet you at the prison gate, August 1st. And you actually met him? Yes. He said I had to live his kind of life to really know what I was trying to find out. Fine, fine. So you end up in a murder. I know. I know.

I knew it was the wrong thing to do. I didn't belong there. I wish I were dead. No, no, no. Don't start that again. Now, you've got to tell me about tonight, exactly what happened, and try to remember everything. Well, he said he was going to knock over a safe in the warehouse. Which one? The Elliott Transfer Company on Douglas Street. Is that where you shot the man? Yes.

He gave me a gun. I was afraid to carry it, but he said it was the only way I could actually get the feeling a criminal has on a job. And you actually let him talk you into this? Something this dangerous? I know it sounds stupid now, but I had to see what it was like. We went in the place. The watchman showed up at the wrong time, pulled a gun and jumped on Marco. Marco lost his gun and yelled, shoot, shoot, Lynn. And before I knew what I was doing, I did shoot. The watchman screamed and...

It was blast. Steady now. Take it easy, Linda. Rocco examined him. And the watchman was dead. What you need is a sedative. I didn't have any sleeping tablets, but in the stone household, hot lemonade laced with a little rye always did the trick. So I watched her until it took effect. Gradually, she stopped crying and her eyelids slid shut. I went into the living room, closed the door to the bedroom, and called Sergeant Kalski at police headquarters.

What's on your mind, Randy? Look, Kosky, you got a homicide report from somewhere down on Douglas Street, the Elliott Transfer Company. No, no, Randy, we haven't had a homicide report from anywhere tonight. Well, I just got a tip. The watchman was shot there in an attempted safe job. Where'd you get the tip? Well, never mind. Take it for what it's worth. Oh, get right on it. Thanks, Randy. Don't thank me. Right then, there was just one thing I wanted to do, find Rocco Daly. If he hadn't already gone into hiding, I thought I had enough friends around Rush Street to help me ferret him out.

One hour and two $5 bills later, I finally picked up a tip that he'd gone into the Red Eagle, a combination pool room and bar. I knew the man who ran it, Biceps Bill Candless, accurately named. Ah, hello, Randy. Hello, Bill. I seen a guy named Rocco Daly around. Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. A friend of mine just saw him come in here. I'm a friend of yours, ain't I? You see him anywheres around and about? Well, what about the back room? I tell you, I ain't seen him. Mind if I take a look myself? Yeah. Yeah.

Well, I think I'll take a look anyway. Randy, I'm not used to being called a liar, even by you. I might get so mad as to rap you over the head with this pool cue. Bill, I don't get the pitch. Look, maybe we're friends, but I make my living down here. I got to get along with an awful lot of people. You don't bring me no business. They do. You can look around the hall all you want, but stay out of the back. You're invading my private rights as a citizen.

I was more moved by the thickness of his bicep and the size of the pool cue in his hand... ...than by the snatch of civil liberties he threw at me. So I rented a table, played a quiet little game of three cushion, keeping my eyes open all the while. It was time well spent. Fifteen minutes later, I was surprised to see a man in a battered hat and a brown trench coat hurry out of the back room. I caught up with him just outside. He might have been a great judge, but he was no actor. Oh, Mr. Stone. I knew I made a grievous mistake talking to you earlier tonight...

You're just following me looking for a juicy tabloid story. Judge, I wasn't following you. I ran into you by accident. Well, then leave me alone and go on your way. What were you doing in the back room of the Red Eagle? That, young man, is my business. Good day. No, it isn't. It's liable to become anybody's business. Will you let go of my arm before I call a policeman? Judge, you're in no position to call a policeman. What do you mean by that? What were you and Rocco Daly talking about in the back room? I...

I never heard of a man called Rocco Daly, and I see no reason to answer you. All right, play it stuffy all the way down the line, but I know something you don't, and you're going to have to come clean with me to find it out. What do you know? I know where your daughter is. Let's go someplace private. We did. We went to his house. He was as nervous as a burglar all the way. As soon as we arrived there, he drank a glass of straight scotch, started to cry, and then pulled himself together long enough for me to get something out of him.

He said my daughter killed a man tonight. I just couldn't believe it. He said he could hush the whole thing up. For $25,000, he'd get out of town. Well, Judge, I'm sorry to say you walk right in one of the best shakedown rackets in the world. I'm surprised at you.

Get a rich girl in a killing, make her buy her way out. That's the formula. You should know better. Well, what am I going to do? My reputation, my position, my career will all be destroyed. I think you better worry first about your daughter. Yes, I'll have to hide her somewhere. She's safe where she is. Now, Judge, look at it this way. If there was a murder and Rocco Daly was involved, he wouldn't dare go to the police. He knows what he'd get. You don't have to worry about him turning your daughter in because he goes with her. Judge, if I were you, I'd forget the blackmail.

Your job's to worry about your daughter. How can you get her out from under a murder? Who are you phoning? The police. Now, just a minute. I... Hold on, hold on. I'm not going to tell them a thing. I'm just looking for information. Police headquarters. Sergeant Kalski, please. Just a moment.

Sergeant Kolsky. Randy Stone, Sarge. Hey, I've been waiting for you to call. Something's really screwy. You mean the warehouse shooting? Yeah, something happened there, all right, but I don't think it's exactly what you heard it was. Well, what happened? I can't figure it out. There was some shooting, but the bullets were blanks. Yeah? We found the paper wadding all over the place. The blood...

Well, what about it? Well, it was all over the place, too, but it wasn't human blood. It came from an animal. Oh, well, I'll be... What do you make of it, Randy? What was going on there? I haven't the slightest idea, Kalski. Not the slightest. You'll figure it out, goodbye. I would have explained the whole thing to Kalski right then, but it seemed to me the judge rated first copy. When I gave him the good news, I thought he was going to collapse from relief. Then I left for my apartment to get Linda. I don't believe you. I...

I don't believe you. It's some psychological trick you're trying to pull on me. It's the truth. The whole thing was staged. It was phony bullets, phony blood, and a couple of phony guys who flim-flammed. Stop it. I'm an adult. I was there. I know what I did. Linda, I'll take you to the police, to the scene of the crime. Prove it if necessary. I want to believe it, but I can't. I saw it. Yeah, well, look, smarter dames than you have been taken in by dumber guys than Rocco Daly. That's right, honey.

Rocco. The guy's got it right down the line. Haven't you, nosy? Put the gun down. It might go off. Oh, shut up. Rocco, did I kill that man or didn't I? I said your boyfriend here was right, didn't I? You gotta be beat over the head before you understand. You know, for a girl with a college education, you got a brain like a jerk. You never were serious about anything. You were just making a fool out of me all the time. You were making a fool out of yourself. I told you the first day I met you. You were just buying a ticket to the circus. Why don't you put that gun down, Rocco? Shut up, you!

But now, honey, you're going to do something for me. What? You're going to see that I get out of the state safe. I won't help you again if I never help anybody. Think twice, honey. Think twice. Call up the judge. Tell him to send a car and a little money down here. And tell him it's for you. That you want to go on a vacation. No, I won't. Do it. Do it or so help me, I'll pull a bullet right through you. Let me tell you something, Rocco Daly.

I learned a lot down here with you. Your kind. Guns, brass knuckles, blackjacks. You never use them unless the advantage is three to one in your favor. Deep down inside of you, you're afraid. Insecure. You can't look an honest person in the face. I believe you call it yellow. Are you listening, Rocco? Now stay away from me. Stay away from me, both of you. Or so help me, I'll shoot. You wouldn't shoot anybody.

Now give me that gun. Now get back. Get back, you crazy dame, get back! Give it to me? You're asking for it? Watch it, Linda. I'll show you what honest courage looks like. Don't make me do it! Don't! Give it to me! Get your hands off me! I saw his trigger finger tightening and then I jumped. I knocked his arm down and the bullet plowed into the floor. Then I grabbed his wrist. He shot twice more, but they only hit the walls. I was too busy to notice what Linda Arnold was doing until Rocco Daly suddenly slumped in my arms and fell to the floor.

She was standing over him with a Coke bottle in one hand. Do you think I... Do you think I killed him? No, no, no. He's just out for the con. I'll call the police. No, no, no. Let me do it. Since I started, I guess it's up to me to end it. Well, that about does it. It's all your show, baby. Yes, Randy. I think the lesson's over. I've learned all I want to know about crime. THE END

Well, it's early morning now, and I hope the right people are all back in the right pigeonholes, and Linda's had her look-see at the other side of the tracks. You know, I hold no brief against looking in on your neighbor once in a while to see what he's doing. How can I? I make my living that way. But there's a right way to do it and a wrong way. The right way, you make a friend. The wrong way, you get punched in the nose. So, if you decide to poke into somebody else's life, make sure you know what you're after. Because it's easy to misjudge your neighbor...

Particularly since it's an even money bet you don't even understand yourself. Copy, boy.

Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy, is produced and directed by Warren Lewis. Tonight's story was written by E. Jack Newman and John Michael Hayes, with music by Frank Worth. The part of Noah Arnold was played by Herb Rawlinson. Linda was Jane Webb. Others in tonight's cast were Peter Leeds, Lou Krugman, Jay Novello, and Bill Justine. Frank Lovejoy may currently be seen in Milton Sperling's production, Three Secrets, released by Warner Bros.,

Listen next week at this time and every week as Randy Stone searches through the city for the strange stories waiting for him in the darkness. Nightbeat came to you from Hollywood.

Big time.

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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.

You're a free sample on the audiobooks page at weirddarkness.com. 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.

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.

In the dream, you are falling.

Lost in the listening distance as dark locks in. Nightfall. The play, a first for this series by Prince Edward Islander Larry LeClair, is called Baby Doll. Wait a minute. I should be carried. Do you carry women on a professional summer anniversary? Shh. Keep your voice down. Come on.

Oh, come on, Al. Shh, take off your shoes, will you? Sounds like I'm leading a horse. Oh, thanks a lot. Come on, Kath, just play along, okay? Humor me. But I... Please. Oh, all right. If that's okay, okay, I'll take off my shoes. And the least you could do is tell me what's... It's a surprise. You're damn right it is. Oh, wait a minute. I get it.

New shoes, is that it? You got me new shoes for my anniversary, right? That's why the bare feet. Why the whisper? Who whispers around new shoes? Unless, of course, they're hush puppies. All right, all right. You ready? Let's go. Okay, okay, okay. Would it be too much to ask where we're going? The guest room. Guest room? We don't have any guests, do we? You'll see. Of course.

Stop that. It was so mysterious. So there's someone in the guest room. Who is it, Loomis? Loomis? What makes you think that? Oh, come on, Alex. Who else is always passed out in the guest room, eh? I don't know, Kath. You tell me. Will you knock it off, Alex? I mean, it's hardly a big surprise. He fights with his students. He fights with the dean. He fights with the bottle of scotch. And he goes home, fights with his wife, fights with his kids, and eventually ends up over here trying to pick a fight with you. Oh!

I mean, it has to be Loomis, right? Right? There's only one way to find out. Well, Kathleen? What? Go in there? Are you crazy? It's dark in there. So? There's a light by the bed. You'll be all right. Come on. I have to... Yes, you have to. Now go on, Kathleen. Walk in, turn on the light, and have a look. All right. But I warn you, if this is some kind of a joke... It's no joke, Kath. Really. Go on. You'll see.

God, I hate this. How's the light switch? Finally. Okay, now, what's it... Oh, God. For a second there, I thought it was real. Happy anniversary, Kathleen. That's it? A doll? You put me through all this, but... Hey, come on. It's not just a doll. I mean, look at it. Look at the stitching. That doll's handmade, Kathleen.

Do you have any idea how much work must have gone into making a doll like that? All by hand? Oh, come on, Alex. It's a doll, not the goddamn Suez Canal. No, thanks. Well, don't get mad. I looked all over town for that doll, Kathleen. You know where I found it? It was in a pile of junk at an auction down on the waterfront. Some auction. Bunch of old ladies scrounging through the estate of another old lady.

Some estate. Junk. That's what it was. It was all junk, except for this. This doll's an heirloom, Kathleen. It's a collector's item. God only knows how old it is. Look, Alex, it's not that I don't appreciate the effort. It's sweet of you to go to all that trouble. Really, it is. It's just...

I mean, what would I want with a doll? It's not like we have any kids or anything. Exactly. We both work. We don't have any kids. You come from a big family, Kathleen. I know how much it must bother you not having kids of your own. What are you saying? You brought this home so I could mother it? Well, the subject does come up.

Remember the fight the other day? So? I mean, what are you going to do the next time we have a fight? Go out and buy me a kid? Will you calm down? All I'm trying to say is I'm aware of the fact that every woman has a maternal instinct. And if it's not fulfilled, well, it's like Loomis says. Loomis, I was right the first time. It was a joke. Look, it's not a joke, okay? Where are you going? I am going to bed. Happy anniversary.

Great. Just great. Alex? What's that noise, Alex? Oh, come on, Alex. You must hear it, too. Where's it coming from? Oh, okay, it's late. Go back to sleep. There's something out there. I know it. A baby. Bruce baby. It doesn't make sense. How can Alex sleep through this?

It's coming from the guest room. How? There's nobody in the guest room. Please stop. Stop crying, please. Oh, God. Kathleen? Kathleen, are you all right? Kathleen, what the hell's going on? Are you all right, Kathleen? You didn't hear it, did you? Oh, God, you scared me half to death. Hear what? How she cried.

Terrified. So cold and dark. Oh, I didn't hear anything. No. No, of course not. You didn't hear it. You gave it to me. She's my responsibility. Oh, wait a minute.

I thought there was something wrong. Maybe somebody broke in. Maybe you were having a nightmare or something. Really, Alex, I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm talking about hearing a scream in the middle of the night. What are you doing? She's cold. This isn't funny, Kathleen. Do you have any idea what time it is? It's two o'clock in the goddamn morning. I have to go to work tomorrow. Are you listening to me? Shh, please.

Keep your voice down, Alex. Very funny. Get me up in the middle of the night to play little games. This is a dumb stunt. You know that, Kathleen? Dumb. I mean, if you don't like the doll, I'll get rid of it. She's mine. You gave her to me. All right, Kath. Have it your way. Tuck your little doll into bed and cover her up. Make fun of my little speech about maternal instinct. See if I care. You go back to bed, Alex.

I'll be in after a while. Sure. I'll go back to bed. You want to get even? Okay. You've had your little joke. We're even. You know something, Loomis? Having lunch with you is like going Dutch with a trash compact. Look, Alex...

Don't blame me, okay? You wanted advice, I gave you advice. You didn't give me advice. You gave me a dumb speech about maternal instinct. Oh, come on, Alex. It can't be that bad. I mean, so what? So she didn't like the doll. She hated the doll. Okay, so she hated the doll. I mean...

Why make a federal case of it? Why don't you just drop it? I can't. Why not? Something happened. I'm not sure what. Honest to God, Loomis, this is the first time I've ever known her to be vindictive. What did she do? Buy you a doll? Will you knock it off? This is serious. She hated the doll, Loomis. She hated it. Only instead of getting rid of it, she's taken to doting on it.

Know what she did yesterday? What? She went out and bought this wallpaper. You know the kind. Elephants, teddy bears, that sort of thing. She's turning the guest room into a nursery. Maybe she's pregnant. She's not pregnant. She's... Oh, hell, I don't know what she is. Does any of this make sense to you? Very little of anything makes sense to me, Alex. You think a spite? What else could it be? It's either that or she's having some kind of breakdown. I mean, those are the only two reasonable possibilities. What about the doll? What about it?

Well, you said you got it at an auction, right? Yeah, that's right. Why? Well, how much do you know about it? Like, how old is it? Where did it come from? Wait a minute. What in the hell are you trying to say? Alex, it's like I tell my students. Sometimes, well, the reasonable possibilities just don't seem reasonable. So? Yeah. You're saying I should think in terms of the unreasonable? Is that it? Yeah. I mean, I thought I was going out on a limb suggesting Kathleen might be cracking up. But what the hell are you suggesting? Just calm down, okay?

I'm suggesting you should find out as much as you can about the situation. I don't have a situation, Loomis. I've got a wife with a petty sense of vengeance, and that's all I've got, okay? Hey, come on, come on. Where are you going, man? I'm going to pick up my wife and go shopping. And after that, I'm going to have a little talk with her, see if I can't straighten out my situation.

You got me into this mess, Loomis. Now I'll get me out of it. And as far as any more advice goes, thanks, but no thanks. Hey, come on, Alex. You're overreacting. Well, let me make one final suggestion, okay, Loomis? I suggest you lay off the sauce for a while. Otherwise, it won't be Kathleen who'll crack up. It'll be you. Alex? Hey, come on, man. Don't go away mad. Alex? Look at that. Isn't that sweet? Sweet is not exactly the first word that comes to mind, Kathleen.

I mean, don't you think this has gone far enough? She always comes up with such wonderful surprises. Imagine waiting like that in the window. Will you knock it off? I mean, it's not funny anymore, Kathleen. What are you talking about, Alex? I'm talking about leaving a goddamn doll in the window on your way to work so that when you come home, it'll look like the doll's waiting for you. I mean, that's not sweet, Kathleen. That's sick. Wait a minute. Where are you going? Kathleen! All right. That does it.

Okay, that's that. Fine thing when a man can't even get his wife to help him in with the goddamn groceries. Kathleen! Look, Kathleen, like I said in the car, this has gone far enough. I think it's damn near time you stopped acting like a schoolgirl and started acting like a wife. Do you hear me?

Kathleen, I said... God, it's freezing in here. What's that smell? It's awful. It's nothing unusual, Alex. Nothing unusual? Will you listen to yourself? Look at this place. It's like a big playpen in here. It's freezing cold, and to top off everything else, it stinks. And you call that nothing unusual? I don't mind. You don't mind? You really don't mind, do you?

This whole thing doesn't really strike you as the slightest bit unusual, does it? Why don't you go start dinner, honey? I'll be out in a little while. Why don't we go out for dinner, okay, Kath? Somewhere quiet where we can talk. No. Come on, Kath. I said no. We already spend too much time away. I'm needed here, Alex. Can't you see that? There's something wrong, Kathleen.

All along, I thought it was a joke. Maybe mean, maybe spiteful, but just a joke. Nothing serious. It never was a joke. You're not angry at me, are you? Angry? No, Alex, I'm not angry at anyone. Why should I be? I'm perfectly contented. Can't you see that, Alex? No, I can't see that. I know. It's your work.

You've been working too hard, that's it, isn't it? Not anymore. What do you mean? I quit. You what? Yesterday. No, the day before yesterday. I've been so busy, I'm not sure. You quit? I mean, just like that, you quit without even mentioning it? Well, I didn't think you'd mind. I really can't spare the time anymore, Alex, what with baby doll and everything. You understand, don't you, darling? I'm beginning to. Kathleen, you're sick, honey.

It's the doll. There's something wrong with the doll. We've got to get rid of it. Touch her and I'll kill you. Kathleen, you're not well. I'll call Dr. Thompson. Poor dumb Alex. Go ahead. Call whoever you like. What are they going to think when they find a sweet young wife worried sick that her husband's having a nervous breakdown, eh? Imagine thinking your wife's become possessed by a doll. You expect anybody to seriously believe that?

I didn't say possessed. You said possessed. Mine. Mine. She's mine. None of you are a fair, do you hear me? You touch, baby doll, and you'll burn. You hear me? Burn. Alex? Darling? Where are you going? Out. Loomis was right, Kathleen. Who? Loomis? We don't know anybody by that name, do we? How long will he be gone? I don't know, Kathleen.

How long does it take to find the unreasonable? Go away. Can't you read? The sign says closed. Next auction's not till next Thursday. That's okay. I'm not here for the auction. I'd like to talk to you. What about? Well, I was at an auction here a couple of weeks ago. I don't know if you remember me, but I bought a doll. Oh.

Oh, wait a minute. Yes. You are the one, aren't you? You better come in. You do remember me, then. Good. I was wondering if you could tell me... You weren't supposed to have it. I mean, how was I to know she'd put it in the will? It? You mean the doll? They didn't find the will till afterwards, and...

Well, by that time, you were gone. Nobody knew where. It was a mistake. Don't blame me. I never knew the different self. Begad I didn't. Please, could we start at the beginning? Who owned the doll? Bessie McAllister. She was a dear old thing, really. Had a little room down by the waterfront. Lived alone. No close relatives.

None that come to the funeral anyway. And the doll? Look, the fuss she made over that doll, you just swear to God the thing was human. Of course, she wasn't that sound in the head, you know, coming on to the end, took to talking to it. Even bought it little dresses. Imagine her scraping by on the pension, saving her pennies to buy little doll dresses. But...

That's the way she felt about it. Nothing was too good for Baby Doll. Baby Doll? Yeah, that's right. That's what she called it. Did she say anything else? I mean, did she ever tell you where it came from or how old it was? Anything like that? Well, she did, but...

Look, truth be told, most people thought Bessie was crazy as the crows coming on the end. She might have rambled on to me about it, but just how much store you can place in that? No, no, please go on. Tell me the rest. Well, there's not really that much to tell. One night, not that long before she died...

I happened to mention it to her, you know, just for something to talk about. Well, she up and told me all about it right out of the blue. It was like she knew her time was coming and she was worried about what was going to happen to it after she was gone. I didn't really pay that much attention. Of course, if I'd known, she was going to put it in the will. Well, what did she say about it? Well, apparently it's been in her family for years and years.

Bessie herself didn't know how long. It was originally a child's doll. It seems there was a fire, and the poor little child was lost, burned to death. But the doll survived. A fire? But the doll didn't burn. Well, now, according to Bessie, it didn't. She claimed that ever after that, the doll's been passed down from one generation to the next.

Always from mother to daughter And always to whatever daughter That remained unmarried Bessie claimed that That was the reason she never married But I imagine there was a lot more to it than that It's jealous That's what it is

A woman with no husband and no children could spend all her time with. Jealous? God, you're as bad as Bessie. It couldn't be jealous, dear. I mean, it's just a doll. It's not a baby or anything. Well, what about the will? What did she want done with it? All right, just a second. I got it right here. And if you still don't believe what I say about Bessie,

I should imagine this is all a convincing you'll need. Here we are. Now, listen to this. I hereby decree that upon my death, my dearest earthly possession, known to you all as Babydoll, should under no circumstances be sold, bartered, or otherwise exchanged.

It is my most fervent wish that she be taken immediately to the nearest Christian cemetery and that she be buried there with all appropriate rites and ceremony thereto attending. Buried? And in a Christian cemetery, no less.

You see now, dear, what I mean. Whether it was living all alone with that doll, or whether it was just old age, whatever it was, poor Bessie was right off her head at the last of it. Right clean out of this world. You'll be all right. Don't be afraid. He's not going to harm you.

He can't, even if he wanted to. Oh, God, Kath. Don't you realize what you're doing? Doing? I'm not doing anything, Alex. You can't feed it, honey. You don't have any milk. Kathleen, do you understand what I'm saying? You can't breastfeed it. God, this can't be happening.

Why? You bought her. You bought and paid for her as if she were a lump, a mass, an object. You bought and paid and gave her to me. Oh, darling, how can I ever thank you? It was so wonderful of you to bring her to me. Something I'll love and cherish always. No. Poor, poor, stupid Alex. I detest you. No.

Did you know that, darling? I loathe the sight of you. So why don't you just run along, you stupid, sickening little man? This is my house. Do you understand me? I will not be driven out. Leave here. Leave or you'll burn. Who are you? You're not my wife. You're just using her body, aren't you? Well, answer me. Who am I talking to? All right.

If that's the way you want it, I'll tell you who you are. You hear me? I know who you are. You died in a fire, didn't you? I thought so. Why are you here? Why didn't you die? What happened? Where was your own mother? You made me go away, Mario. Now look. You see what we've done?

We left her alone. Poor wee bear. No, be yourself. Dear God in heaven, Mario, what have we done? There's no inner body. No inner body to be buried. No, your mother was wrong. Do you hear me? There is a body. You're clinging to the body. Go back to baby doll. I can bury her. Touch her and I'll kill you. She's mine.

She's so mean and you can't have her. Of course. You're a child, that's it. You don't know what you want, do you? It's the emotions you want, isn't it? It's the mothering. You feed on the warmth of it, don't you? It's no use, you know. You can't frighten me away. Not now, not ever. You'll never have her. Not entirely. There'll always be me around, upsetting things, trying to take her from you. What if I gut her back? Then what'll you do? I will burn you.

You have to go. Your mother's dead. All your mothers for all these years are dead. It's time to go. No! No. Afraid. Afraid. It's okay. It'll be all right. It'll be all right. You'll see. It'll only last a little while, and then you'll have your mother back. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Mother?

Mother's gone. No, no, no, she's not. She's not, you'll see. She's waiting for you. Even now, after all this time. Don't worry. You go back to Babydoll. I know what to do. I'll take Babydoll to a nice place. A real cemetery, just like I'm supposed to. I'll make sure it's a real service. A Christian service. I'm afraid. So afraid.

No, trust me. It's the only way. You go back to baby doll. And after I do what I'm supposed to do, there'll be light and warm. Your real mother, just like always, waiting for you. You'll be so happy. Kathleen? Alex? What? Shh, shh. Don't say anything, Kathleen. Just stand up slowly and pass me the doll.

Please, Kathleen, there's something I have to do. Just stand up slowly and pass me the doll. Okay, okay, I've got it. Let it go, Kathleen. Okay, good. Now I... Oh, oh, God. Oh, God. It's getting hot. Oh, no. Don't change your mind. No!

Alex! I'm sick! What the hell's going on here? Alex! Hey, buddy, don't come any farther, okay? There's been a fire back here. What happened? That's what I'd like to know. 14 years on the job, I've never seen nothing like it. I mean, it must have been propane or something. I mean, did you find anybody in there?

You knew these people, huh? Yeah. Well, if it's any consolation, I can tell you they didn't suffer. Matter of fact, I doubt if they knew what hit them. Hey, how many kids did they have? Kids? They didn't have any kids. Why? Oh? Just a second. You wait here, okay? Yeah. Hey, look at this. Here's these two poor people burned to cinder and this thing lying on the floor between them. I mean, it was in the same room during the same fire. Look at it.

Hasn't got a mark on it. I mean, can you believe that? Oh, God. You recognized it? Seen it before, huh? No, no, no. I've heard about it, though. Ah, yeah, well, not much wonder. Beautiful piece of work. Bet somebody will be glad to have it. Bet somebody will get this doll and just love it to death. You have just heard Baby Doll by Larry LeClaire.

Featured in tonight's cast were Elva Mae Hoover as Kathleen and Jay Bowen as Alex, with Jimmy Morris as Loomis. You also heard Ruth Springford as the old woman and Claude Ray as the fireman. The recording engineer was Brian Pape with sound effects by Matt Wilcott. And the production assistant was Peggy Este. Tonight's program was produced and directed for this series by Fred DL. The executive producer of Nightfall is Bill Howell.

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. They've been here for thousands of years, making their presence known in the shadows. They might be seen by a lonely motorist on a deserted road late at night, or by a frightened and confused husband in the bedroom he's sharing with his wife. Perhaps the most disconcerting part of this phenomenon boils down to this question.

Has the government been aware of their presence all along and is covertly working with them towards some secret end? In the audiobook, Runs of Disclosure, what once was fringe is now reality. While listening, you'll meet regular people just like you who have encountered something beyond their ability to explain.

You'll also hear from people of great faith and deep religious belief who continue to have these strange and deeply unsettling encounters. Author L.A. Marzulli explores these ongoing incidents to discover the answers to these questions: Who are they? What do they want? And why are they here? Can you handle the truth? Listen to this audiobook if you dare!

Rungs of Disclosure, Following the Trail of Extraterrestrials and the End Times, by L.A. Marzulli. Narrated by Darren Marlar. Hear a free sample on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com.

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For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. ♪♪ The Colgate Palmolive Peat Company, makers of Halo Shampoo to glorify your hair and Colgate Tooth Powder to get teeth sparkling and super clean, bring you Mr. and Mrs. North, starring Joseph Curtin and Alice Frost. ♪♪

In all respects, Pam and Jerry North's car is an excellent car with only one defect. It always picks the long way home. That's especially the trouble tonight when Pam and Jerry are coming from a weekend in the country and the car seems to have chosen the longest, darkest, and most deserted road.

Pam, I'll have to take ten minutes shut-eye, darling, before we can go on. I'm getting dangerously sleepy. Well, let's do it then, Jerry. This is no place to have a smash-up. Just lie back in the seat, dear. I can just feel myself drifting right off to sleep, can't you? Jerry, that's right. Go to sleep right while I'm talking. For all you know, I might have had something very interesting to say.

I didn't, but I might have. Jerry! What? Listen. Somebody's playing a musical instrument. A way out in the country. He's good, too. Where's it coming from? I don't see any houses. I wonder... Look, there. By the side of the road. A man playing a clarinet and coming toward us.

He's seen us. Hey, come with me. Come with me this way. Why, what's the matter? Just behind those trees. Come and see. What's there? A tree got in the way of my car. Oh, an accident. Anybody hurt? A girl. And the tree killed her. She's dead. Please come and help me. Right away. Where's your car? Over here, behind these trees, see? Holy... You really smashed up. The girl's in the seat. Help me, will you? Jerry, you look and see. Right. Say, there's no girl in your car, alive or dead. What? Well, she was here a minute ago. Are you sure...

Could you kill a girl and not know it? We better look around for her, hadn't we? Jerry, our car's starting up. Hey, stop! That was the girl who took your car. But you said she was dead. That's right, she was dead. She isn't now. Stop! Come back! That's our car! Which way did she go? Well, that way, didn't you see? Jerry, here's a brand new man. What? Oh. Who are you? Where'd you pop from? I've been right here with you all the time. I didn't see you.

I guess it's so dark. Sure. That's why you didn't see him. It's so dark. Lady, you said the girl drove your car toward New York? You were right here, too, you said. You must have seen the car go. Only he didn't, lady. It's so dark. Let's not argue about it. If she drove toward New York, I know exactly where she's going. Get in. Get in what? My car. It's right here. Come on. I didn't see any other car here. Of course you didn't. It's so dark. My car's been here right along. What's the matter with you anyway?

Now, all of you, get in and we'll go to town. Here we are. Made it fast, didn't we? If you ask me, we made it in no time. Oh, it's too dark here. I'm going inside where it's dark. What place is this? It's a pretty gloomy looking house. This is where the girl came. It's where we all live.

So long. So long? What about our car? And the girl who was dead but isn't? What dead girl? What are you talking about? The girl in your car in the wreck. Only she wasn't there and then she stole our car. Lady, you're all mixed up. Sure, it's so dark. Well, so long. Me too, so long. Wait. If you're going inside and you think the girl's in there, we're going in too. Oh, no, you're not.

Murder goes on in that house and you're not allowed. But the girl's got our car in there. Nothing to it. It's dark in that house and if you go in, you'll get killed. So long. He's gone. I never saw people move so fast. Jerry, we've got to find out what happened to our car. The only way we can do that is to get into that house. Jerry...

It's so dark. You sound like that clarinet player. This is the darkest cellar I've ever been in. I don't think it's a cellar, dear. It's a corridor. I can touch both walls at once. Do you hear anything? No. We'll have to get upstairs. Here's the door. Can you open it? I can't find the handle. Oh, here it is. Stick right behind me, Pam. I'm so close behind you. I'm practically in front of you. Here goes. It's heavy.

Oh, Jerry, what is it? It's a jam session. These many musicians getting together and playing just for themselves. There's the man who drove us in. He's playing the trumpet. And next to him, that clarinet player. There's no air in here. And it's hoppy.

Jerry, there's the girl, and she's singing. Yes, her mouth's open, but the orchestra's so loud I can't hear her. Can you? No. Oh! Jerry, look at the walls. They're closing in on us. The room's getting smaller and smaller. But look behind the musicians. There's no wall at all. Only black space. We'd better get out of here. Oh, no. We can't get out now. Oh, the clarinet player. How can you be talking to us here? Your clarinet's still playing.

My clarinet plays by itself. I told you not to come in here, didn't I? Now you're going to die. Jerry! You're going to die by the knife in my hand. Jerry, where are you? He's gone. Listen to that trumpet. Listen to him climb. Okay, boys? One, two. When he hits high C, this knife goes right into you. Oh, no. Jerry! Jerry, where are you? Listen to the trumpet. Okay.

G-sharp. Hey, B-flat. Now look at this knife, and here comes High C. Jerry! Pam! Pam, darling, what's the matter? High C! Don't, don't, don't. I'm right here, sweetheart. Wake up. Wake up? I was asleep. Sure. Oh, darling, what a horrible dream. It must have been. You were waving your arms and kicking your legs.

But you're safe in the car, and we can start driving home again. You know, darling, it all started when I dreamed I heard a clarinet playing. And then I saw... Jerry, am I awake? We both are. And I hear it too. Somebody's playing a clarinet somewhere near us on the road.

Yes, Pam and Jerry are awake now, but it's still pretty dreamlike to hear a clarinet in the country on a dark, dark road. Hello, everybody, hello. Halo is the shampoo that glorifies your hair, so halo, everybody, halo. Use halo shampoo if you want naturally bright and beautiful hair. Remember, even finest soaps and soap shampoos hide the natural luster of your hair with dulling soap film.

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Now, back to Mr. and Mrs. North. Jerry, we've got to see what it is. I know what it is, darling. A clarinet being played on a dark road on a dark night. The point is, why? It's coming from behind those trees. We'll see in a minute. Now it's going away, Jerry. Maybe drawing us after it, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. I'm right.

Look at that car against the tree. It's pretty badly smashed. Someone may be hurt. Maybe it's a girl. Oh, but she isn't there now. What makes you say that? That's the way it was in my dream. He's there? Yes, there's a girl. She's there? She's not dead, is she? She's alive, ma'am. Somehow I knew she would be. Lupe, you've got to take me back. You've got to, Lupe. You're all... Oh, who are you? We found you here in the wrecked car, miss.

Are you badly hurt? No, I just hit my head, I guess. Here, let me help you out. Thanks. Where's Loopy? The man who was playing the clarinet? We heard him, but we haven't seen him. Good. You got a car? Could you take me back into the city with you? We'll be glad to. And you ought to see a doctor. How'd the crash happen? Loopy tried to get me to run away with him, and when I caught on, he wouldn't turn back. I crashed the car on purpose. Loopy's the greatest hot clarinet in this world, or out of it. I'm on it for Mark. I...

Yes, we ought to know who you are, but... I'm a hot singer. They call me the scat girl. I guess you don't get around. No. But shouldn't we try to find Loopy? I don't want to find him. I want to get back to the city. Wait a second. Here's another car.

It's Eddie. Eddie, darling. Morning, baby. You okay? Eddie, I'm so glad you got here. Now you can take me back into town. You bet, honey. And I want to get my hands on Loopy. Loopy doesn't seem to be around here anymore. Excuse me, folks. This is Eddie Rayburn, a hot trumpet if there ever was one. We're Mr. and Mrs. North. Hi. And as you're in good hands, Mr. Mont, we'll be getting back to our car. Wait a minute. What?

Eddie. Huh? Something's been stolen from my handbag. You know what it is? You bet. And so do you. Oh, maybe that was Loopy's doing. That guy must be around here someplace. Jerry, our car's starting. Hey, wait! That's Loopy taking it. We've got to come with us now. Look out! How do you like that? Eddie, you know where he's going, don't you? Yeah, but how do you know I know? I wish I didn't. Won't you take us with you in your car? Okay, hop in.

Okay, cats, there's your crate parked just ahead. I never expected that... Jerry, we've got the car back. I hope it's all in one piece. Anyway, thanks very much for the lift, Eddie. And Mona, I hope you're okay. I will be. So long, folks, and thanks. Oh, just a minute. I want to see that Loopy McGee and give him a piece of my mind for stealing our car. Now look, Mrs. North, you're not going to see Loopy. I'm giving a private party. And you're not coming into that building with us or you'll get hurt. Permanently. Now take your car and get going.

So long. Nice people. We'd better go, Pam. It's late and there's our car. Jerry, I'm remembering that awful dream. It's all coming true, this strange building. This is where Eddie brought us before. Don't forget it. Dreams never come true. I know, but something tells me we're not going to leave here. No? Just watch us. Get in here. I'll get in the other side. Jerry. Jerry.

Look at this here on the seat. Never mind, dear. Never mind. Get in. But, Jerry, it's a wanted circular for an escaped convict. Hmm? Wanted. Eddie Malden escaped six weeks ago from state penitentiary while serving three-year term for armed robbery. Dangerous. Former occupation, trumpet player. Look at the picture.

That's Eddie, the man who drove us into town, the man who just took the girl into that building. And this must be the thing Mona missed from her handbag. Loopy stole it from her. And they were both scared because Loopy found out he's a fugitive. That's right, Mr. North. Now I'll take it from you. Eddie, we thought you were inside. Give me that thing. Here you are. Well, so long, Eddie. Hold it. Now that you know who I am, you think I'm going to let you run off and call the police? Not a chance. Come on inside. Oh, dear.

What are you going to do with us? Keep you locked up in the cellar while I finish some unfinished business? Just a second, Pam. The door's opening. Don't make any noise, Jerry. Not if I can help it. One more push. Okay, we're out. Gosh, it's dark. Jerry, it's exactly like it. Like what? Like the way it was in my dream. I wonder where that door is. I remember now.

We just turned a corner and there... Wait a minute. Oh! Don't move. Who's that? I don't know. Just a man I bumped into in the dark. Won't be dark long. There's a light right here. There.

Oh, there's two of you characters. Just what do you got in mind sneaking around here? Talk fast or you'll get in trouble. Let's begin by finding out who you are. Flash Farrell, Mona Tremont's manager and future husband. There's a private jam session going on and you haven't been invited. Now you take a course. Jam session? Then there is a jam session. Yeah. What do you want with it? We've got to get in there to prevent a...

Oh, um, Mr. Farrell, I want you to hear me sing. You sing, do you? Oh, haven't you heard of me? I'm Pam, Choo-Choo North. Choo-Choo, that's my style. Okay, Choo-Choo. And who's this guy? Look, Mr. Farrell. That's my husband, Hot Lips North. Do you ever hear him play on the zither? Zither? Who can play hot on a zither? Oh, you've never heard Hot Lips...

Has he hot lips? Eh, no, he never has. It all sounds fishy to me. Okay, then, just show us where the jam session is. Okay, Choo-Choo. And the first thing we'll do is to hear you sing. And you better be good. ♪

Bongo, bongo, bongo, I don't want to leave the conga So I think I'll stay where I am Choo-choo, civilization I'll stay right here Choo-choo! Okay, Choo-choo, you're not so bad. She's okay, isn't she, boy? Oh, I'm so glad you liked it, Mr. Carroll. Jerry, the way it was before, Loopy had a knife. See if he has one now. I'll be right back.

Hey, North. Yeah? Who let you out? Farrell? No. Oh, no. We let ourselves out and met him in the corridor. Now, look, North. Anybody that crosses me up gets it, including Flash Farrell. I'll kill anybody that gets between me and Mona. Farrell's in love with the two, isn't he? Look at her, boy. Wouldn't you be? I've got a very charming wife, thank you. Say, hot lips. Hot.

Hot lips. Oh, yes, Farrell? Sorry, we haven't got a zipper for you. Oh, that's all right, Farrell. Oh, how did you think I was, hot lips? Just great, Choo-Choo. Eddie, how about giving us a number? Sure, Loopy, but I'll have to make it the last for tonight. Okay, Eddie, but come on, come and flash me. Yeah, sure, I'll see you later, Choo-Choo. Jerry, it's more and more like my dream. You've got to stop Eddie from playing. Okay, I'll try. Hiya, folks. Say, I didn't know you two were half. Half?

To what? To the river. I didn't know you had the power. Look, Mona, I've got to get over to the bandstand. No, you don't. There's a gun in this handbag of mine. Make like he's just chatting so nobody gets leery. What's the matter? I saw Eddie talking to you. What'd he tell you? He said he'd kill anybody that came between you and him. That means Loopy, because he knows about Eddie. Does Farrell know about Eddie, too? No, he doesn't. What are you two going to do?

We don't know. I'll tell you what to do. Nothing. Just you two keep your traps shut or you'll have bad trouble with me. We can't let him commit murder. Hey, folks, shut up, will you? Eddie's going to rip out with a little lip. All set, Eddie? Take it high. It's going right out the roof. Okay? One, two. Jerry. Yes, darling? The dream, the dream. What? The trumpet was playing and Loopy started to come at me with a knife. The trumpet went higher and higher like he's doing now. Pam, you're imagining things. Nothing can happen now that he's playing.

A-flat. A. B-flat. He's getting closer. Jerry, do something. I told you, Jerry. What's the matter with him? Here, let me see. Jerry, is he... Yes, Eddie Malden is dead. Oh, dead. Just dead.

It's a bad spot for Pam and Jerry, for they know the murderer is right in that cellar room with them. The last word on cleaning teeth is your dentist. Yes, the last word on cleaning teeth is your dentist. And over 4,000 dentists in a nationwide survey said Colgate Tooth Powder with the two-minute routine gets you...

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It looks like he's been poisoned. Eddie, my Eddie. Okay, which one of you did it? I've got a gun in this bag that's ready for him. Mona, wait. You'll only get yourself in trouble. Listen to what the guy says, Mona. Unless you don't care if you shoot Mona. I care, all right. I want to get the guy that did it. Mona, you're awful sure it was one of us. That's what I was thinking, Mr. Farrell.

Mona, you were certainly anxious before to keep us away from Eddie. You're onto it, Pam. How about it, Mona? If anybody tries to hang Eddie's murder on me, they'll go right along with him. I loved him. Mona, don't point that gimmick at me. Listen to reason, Mona. I'm listening. Somebody talk. Pam, I've got an idea. No tricks now, Mr. North. What is it, Jerry? Eddie told me he was going to kill Loopy because Loopy knew he was a convict. And we all know Loopy was in love with Mona. You mean I killed him? You're off beat, mister. Not much.

You killed him to get a free hand with Mona. Okay, Louie. This looks like the last course for you. Jerry, wait.

That doesn't make sense. No, you're in the groove, Mrs. North. Oh, but it does make sense. Good sense. Sure, Loopy killed him. He hated Eddie. Don't you move, Farrell. Don't any of you forget this gun. I'm not forgetting it. But you listen, Mona. You yourself told us that Farrell didn't know that Eddie was an escaped convict. That's right. What are you getting at, Pam? Well, Loopy didn't have to murder Eddie to get him out of the way. He knew Eddie was an escaped convict, and so all he had to do was report him to the police.

But, Flash, you didn't know that. And so to get Mona away from him, you thought you had to kill him. That's a lie. Farrell, you're going after Eddie. Don't shoot, Mona. Grab him, Loopy. I've got him. Me too. Nice going, Mrs. North. You sure got the power. Oh, just call me Choo-Choo. Oh, Jerry, what a night.

Now it's almost dawn. We'll be home in a moment, darling. And then some sleep. I could go to sleep right now. Jerry, listen. It's that clarinet again. Where's it coming from? Am I dreaming? And so once again, the Early Rises Club greets you with music to put you in tune for the day.

A disc jockey on the car radio. And we start as usual with our theme, a recording by Loopy McGee and his clarinet. Want to hear it, dear? I do not. Take me home and let me sleep and never dream again.

Remember every Tuesday night at the same time the Colgate Palmolive Peat Company, makers of Halo Shampoo and Colgate Tooth Powder, brings you Mr. and Mrs. North, starring Alice Frost and Joseph Curtin. The

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your enchanting entrance scene with a subtle perfume that whispers of romance in a candlelit room and it's thrilling to bathe each day with cashmere bouquet no other soap gives your skin this exciting bouquet

Be sure you join us again next Tuesday when the North's a pigeonholed by a pigeon, chased by a pair of lovebirds on the wing, and caught by a murderer who has flown the coop. This is Charles Stark speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.

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For water bottles. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states. Potential savings will vary. Obsession. The abject misery of loneliness has no circumference, is bounded by no rivers or seas. It is the well of darkness.

wherein only the shading of a friendly light can lift the soul to peer over the crags of a storm-ridden coast, as you shall see in the story of The North Wind, starring Jane Wyatt. Along the northern reaches of a New England's windswept coast, time and tide have carved from the stone of the tall, menacing crags an unpretentious little fishing village...

that shall be known as Cape Sharp. Here men live by the grace of the elements and the yield of the sea. This is the land of the north wind and a land rich in the loam that is the perfect culture for the growth in the mind that is known as obsession. I'm Elsa.

I came to Cape Sharp because I was alone. I came in search of my aunt whom I'd been told had taken residence at the resort there. The journey had been hard and long. I stood at the cliff's edge and gazed down upon the Cape for the first time. It was early evening and the lights were just starting to blink lazily in the village glow. So calm, so peaceful there.

A contrast to the rest of the coast, where the sea lashed against the cliffs violently, frighteningly. I started down the path. This was to be my home, here with the wind and the ocean of life.

Hey, Marcus! Hey, Pedro! Good catch today? Si, si, very good. And you? Oh, can't complain. Fine, that's very fine. We can be thankful for our good luck today. Soon now we may not be able to go out. And why? The north wind, she's coming again. You had better lash up real good from now on, Marcus. I will. Thanks, Pedro. Si. Mister, fisherman! Si. Could you tell me where the resort is? No resort. No...

Well, of course there is. My aunt... It blew away last year. Blew away? Yeah, the big wind. That's all that's left. There, ahead, see? But where did the people go? The ones who live there? Who knows? Everyone's gone? Mm-hmm, everyone. Thank you. Hey, what's wrong with you? I'm sorry. Don't fall. Here. Oh!

Now, don't try to sit up. Stay where you are. How do you feel now? What... what happened? You fainted. Here, drink this. It'll do you good. What is it? Soup. Go ahead, drink it. Oh, no, thank you, I... Go ahead. All right. How did I get here? Did you... I carried you. This is my house.

You feeling any better? Yes, much. You've been very kind. I think I can manage all right now, though. You're going? Yes. Where? Why...

But you haven't got any money. Where are you going to go without money? How did you... I went through your purse. You... Oh, I wasn't going to rob you. I just wanted to find out who you were. Oh. You're Elsa, aren't you? Yes. I'm Marcus. I'm the best fisherman on the Cape. You are? Yeah. I can afford a lot of things the others can't. I eat well. I live well. My house is paid for. That's fine. I own a shed behind this house. I sleep there in the summertime.

I could sleep there again. I... I don't understand. Well, you're welcome to stay in my house if you like. You're sick. I think you're hungry, too. My house is yours. And my food. I appreciate your kindness. Believe me, I do. But...

It wouldn't be possible, though. Why not? Where else would you go? I don't know. Well, then stay. I can't take your house. I offer it to you. Rest first and, well, then go where you like. You're very generous. No, I just... Hey, Marcus! They're calling you. Yes, that's my very good friend Pedro and his friend, Emmanuel. They want me to go into town with them tonight. Marcus! Yes, I hear you.

I'll not go with them, though. You won't? No, but I'd invite them in if you'd care for company. Why, if I'd care, Marcus. Well, they come to drink wine. Sometimes they get drunk. I won't mind. Well, I'll get the wine from the kitchen, then. No, no, that's all right, Marcus. I'll get the wine for your friends. You should have seen.

I've seen him, Marcus. When he pull up his net instead of mackerel, he's got a whole school baby shark. Where did it happen? About five miles out. You know, Marcus, I was last in tonight. I don't like the look of it out there. Pedro is right. He's too quiet. Just like last year before the blow. What do you call them? A lullab before the storm. A lull, Manuel. Oh.

Will you have some more wine? Any of you? No, thank you. Marcus? I don't think so, Elsa. I think I have one more glass. Check it. Manuel! Huh? A lady's name is Elsa. Oh, si, si, Marcus. No harm. Quiet, quiet, Manuel. Marcus, we were talking about the wind. Yeah.

You really think the north wind will come again this year, Pedro? I think so. Well, we better be ready for it this time. What do you care about a little wind for, Marcus? You got your house here on the hill. You got some wine. A nice little chiquita. Manuel, wait for me. Get out. Get out. Come on, Manuel. We'll go. You're not too much. Come on. I take care, Manuel. See you tomorrow, Marcus. Good night, Pedro.

Oh, Marcus. Yeah? I don't think he should have done that. You're wrong. You don't know Manuel.

I should have told him he was unwelcome here long ago. I'm the one who doesn't belong here, Marcus. Already I've come between you and your friends. That's not so. Manuel is no friend of mine. He's not like the rest of us. He's got a bad streak in him. We'll come to trouble someday, he and I. I feel it. But, Marcus, I... No, no, no. Think no more about it. I'll go out to the shed now, Elsa. Take my boat out at five in the morning. I won't see you until tomorrow night. Good night, Elsa.

Good night, Marcus.

Marcus! Marcus! Elsa! What are you doing up at this time of the morning? I fixed some breakfast for you at the house. I didn't see you go. No, I started early and ate at the stand. Oh, well, here's a little something to take with you in case you get hungry. Well, thanks, Elsa, but you shouldn't have bothered. Well, that's all right, Marcus. Just put it down there in the boat. Aye. Aye.

Put it in the boat? Yes, in the cabin there. The cabin? Oh, come on, Elsa. What's wrong? No, Marcus. You take the sandwiches. Elsa, you're afraid of the boat and the sea, aren't you? Yes. It won't sink. I know, but... Then why don't you... No. No, Marcus. No. Oh, it's all right, Elsa. Don't be ashamed. Don't be afraid. I was afraid once, too. You...

You hear that wind out there? Yes. That's the north wind. That's what I used to be afraid of. Until I found out what it was. Found out? Sure. That wind isn't blowing just out there, Elsa. It's blowing a lot of places. Sometimes it's down inside you. And it blows hard and cold and you've got to fight it. And when it's worse because you can't see it, but you've got to make it stop. And if you do, you won't be afraid anymore.

You won't ever be afraid. I'm going out now. Take care of yourself, Marcus. I will, Elsa. I'm coming. Just a moment.

Yes, what... Hello, Chiquita. Manuel. I forgot something last night. Can I come in? Well, all right. Come in.

Why didn't you go out today, Manuel? Oh, the wind, she blow too much. Anyway, I think it good time for me to come over and see you. You've been drinking? Oh, just a little bit. What did you forget, Manuel? I want to ask you a question. What is it? Oh, come on, why you speak so quick like that? You mad with Manuel? Manuel, you better leave here...

Marcus will be home very soon. Oh, Marcus. Poor Marcus. Hey.

I know how you came to be here with Marcus. He picked you up on the pier last night, see? Get out, Manuel. Everybody tell poor Manuel to go. Nobody like poor Manuel. Maybe it's a key to let poor Manuel in. Let me go. Give poor Manuel a key, a key, a key. Stay back. Just a little key for Manuel. Get out of here. So you slap Manuel. I teach you. Maybe you don't act so smart now.

Manuel, look. It's Marcus. Coming up the path. Go on now. Leave. Marcus, that's a joke. I'm telling you the truth. Look. There. Through the window. It is Marcus. Go. Go quickly. Or Marcus will kill you. I'll go and get back to Horseshoe. Elsa. Elsa. I'm coming. Coming, Marcus. Come on.

Who was that that was just here? Why, it was... Elsa, your face is scratched. Yes, I... That looked like Manuel outside. Was he here? Marcus. Was Manuel here? Yes, but... He scratched your face. Oh, it's all right, Marcus. Manuel. Manuel. Marcus, go in. Marcus, come. Please come back. No!

Buffeted by the winds and the storms, Elsa shows terror. But against the buffeting of the lust of man, she shows only the bravery that is a woman's heritage. And the reason for that bravery is the bubbling spring of hope and courage. Yes, and of love. That becomes in the shriek of the wind an obsession. The End

Returning now to the wave-whipped bulwarks of the New England rock coast and the story of the North Wind starring Jane Wyatt. Madness or wine, perhaps the two have conspired in the shrieking winds of the North to intoxicate the mind of Marcus to revenge the insult to Elsa.

The Elsa that has reached into the innermost pockets of his heart and found comfort there. And thus out of the night has gone Marcus in search of Manuel. Down from the hill into the village, walking swiftly, watching carefully, oblivious to the driving rain that beats against his face, the roar of the surf from the straggling beaches, and the fury of the north wind, oblivious to everything except...

Finding Manuel. And Elsa waited at the house, keeping a vigil at the window. Held there in the grip of a strangely surging building. Obsession. The storm grew. And I wondered when it would stop. If it would ever stop. I looked down to the lights in the village. One would flicker and go out. Now another. It was growing dark.

I remembered the day I'd stood on the cliff and gazed down at the village for the first time. How friendly, how beautiful it had seemed then. How changed it was now. Suddenly I felt a chill, something blowing cold and hard. The wind. Marcus. Marcus, I'm alone. I'll be afraid if I'm alone. Come back, Marcus. Wherever you are, come back.

Manuel. Marcus. I'm going to kill you, Manuel. No, Marcus. No, stop. Marcus, stop. Marcus. Elsa. You're back. Yes. The blood, you're hurt. No, no, no, I'm all right. You, you killed Manuel. No.

Then... He was drunk. We fought. That's all. Oh. Oh, Marcus. I was afraid that... No, he deserved it. I couldn't do it, though. I'm glad, Marcus. Yes. I'll get some warm water. Those cuts should be bathed. Elsa. Yes? Sit down. I didn't kill him because of you. Because of me, Marcus? If I had, you'd have hated me, wouldn't you?

I could never hate you, Marcus. You see, we fishermen are simple people, Elsa. We think but two ways, right or wrong. If you're right, the Cape's a good place and people are glad to share your wine and you're glad to give it to them. And if you're wrong? Manuel was wrong. Marcus, your hand, it ought to be bandaged. Elsa, I want you to understand. I think I do. I'll get the water. I'll get the water.

How long will the storm last? Oh, there's no way to tell. Seems as though it's getting worse. It can't get much worse, can it? Never has before. Marcus, doesn't anything ever frighten you? I don't think so. What if the storm would grow until the sea came up and washed away the village? Even your house would be washed away.

Wouldn't you be frightened then? The sea gave me this house. It's been good to me. Why should I be frightened of it? But what if you were to drown? Well, then I'd be dead. And what can you be afraid of when you're dead? Oh, Marcus, you're funny. Why do you say that? Marcus! Marcus! There's someone at the door. I'll answer. Marcus! Marcus! Marcus!

Pedro. Where's Marcus? I... Oh, hello, Pedro. Marcus. Marcus, I come as fast as I could. They're looking for you in the village. You've got to leave here right away. Now, take a breath, Pedro. Who's looking for me? The police. The police? What do they want me for, Pedro? You know. I don't know. What is it? Manuel. What about Manuel? He's dead. He's dead? But Marcus... Marcus has big fight with him. He kill him. I didn't kill him, Pedro.

Elsa, I didn't kill him. But they find him in the street outside the saloon. Maybe you don't know you hurt him so bad. But I didn't fight with him near the saloon. Look, amigo, I believe what you say, but the police, they will not believe you. They hear too much in the village. They come here to take you to jail. You go now, Marcus, before they come. Yes, Marcus, go. Don't let them catch you. Elsa, you'd have me run away. Oh, Marcus, they mustn't catch you. They mustn't. It is all because of me.

You're afraid for me? Yes. You shouldn't be afraid, Elsa. I've told you before not to be afraid. Marcus, if they find you, they'll... They'll take you to prison. No, Elsa, I'm not a criminal. I know. I know, but... I won't run. I'd never run. I'll tell them the truth when they come. They'll believe me. I've never lied to anyone. Oh, Marcus. Marcus, the police are here. Open the door, Pedro. Open the door. Open the door.

Marcus the fisherman? Yes, I'm Marcus. Come in. You know Manuel? Yes. You fought with him tonight? Yes, but I didn't kill him. You're under arrest. Oh, no, no, no, he didn't do it. Come along. No, you can't take him. You can't. Come along. I'll be back, Elsa. Wait for me. I'll be back. Oh.

What time is it, Pedro? It's almost midnight. Pedro, he won't come back. Shoot me. He will. You know it, too. All right. I guess I do. We've got to help him, Pedro. Si, si. I want to help my very good friend Marcus. But what can we do? I'll go to the police. I'll explain it to them. Explain what? That he didn't do it. That he couldn't lie to anyone. They won't believe you either.

We can try. You love Marcus, don't you? What difference does it make? You too. Yes. Marcus is good, man. He love you too. Pedro can tell. Then Pedro...

Take me to him. But we cannot drive the road into the city. She's washed out. Well, how did the police get here? They come in their big boat. They go back down the coast in it. A boat? I got small boat. Be much danger, though. She's acting up something bad out there. We'll... We'll go in your boat, Pedro. You might get scared. No. We'll go, Pedro. Pedro.

Yes? You have a man here by the name of Marcus? Is he a fisherman? Yes. He's here. May I see him? He's held for murder, no. But he didn't do it. I want you to know that. He didn't. Do you have evidence? No, but... No, you can't see him. Please. Get out. What did they say? They won't let me see him. Pedro, sorry. Oh, Pedro. Don't cry. Come. We'll go back. No. Pedro.

I'll wait here. But you can't do nothing. I want to wait. All right. Pedro, wait, too. Elsa. Marcus. Amigo. They let me go, Elsa. Oh, Marcus. He was drinking after I left him. A car ran over him in the storm. The driver just reported it. It...

It's all over? Yes. We can go home now, Elsa. amigo, the storm, she's letting off. Yes, it looks like the end of it. Pedro has his boat waiting. You came in that? Yes. You weren't afraid? No. No, I wasn't afraid. No.

The storm is over now. The north wind has come and gone. Out across the water, the dawn is breaking. And this will be a beautiful day. The fishermen are going out. Marcus is with them. Marcus says the north wind may come again next year. If it does, we'll be ready for it. And I won't be afraid. I know what it is now. I'll never be afraid again. The North Wind

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I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me for tonight's Retro Radio, old-time radio in the dark.