THE GHOSTLY PAIR OF HANDS: Her Invisible Spectral Housekeeper From The Beyond | Paranormal & Crime
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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 jinn 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 Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Dinner Sanctum. Bye.

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. The top names, Broadway Joe Namath, O.J. Simpson, Johnny Unitas, Frank Gifford, all the glamour of the football world may be household words. But about the rest of the men who play this brutal game, one half the country doesn't know who they are or cares.

And for the half that does, few of them know the names of most of the top players. This is the story of one such guy who became the center of a bigger game even than the Super Bowl. I'm finally going to meet him? Not exactly meet him, but you'll see him. We made arrangements so that we can keep an eye on him from this room. What is this machine?

A sophisticated sort of periscope. The view is startlingly frank, which is a well-chosen word. What do you mean? I suggest you prepare yourself to be startled, Mr. Stevens. There's really no way anyone could quite prepare you for what you are about to see.

Our mystery drama, The Spit and Image, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Ian Martin and stars Michael Tolan. It is sponsored in part by all state insurance companies and Buick Motor Division. I'll be back shortly with Act One. ♪♪

He came out of a small college in the Middle West. The pro scouts were all high on him as a prospect. Only two knocks against him. He was too light, 190. The other, he didn't have quite enough speed. For eight years, he knocked around the leagues, waiting for the break. But somehow it never came.

And one day he was 30 and Gil Stevens knew he had ridden the bench for his last season. It is time to look for a full-time job with a future. No more odd jobs. How could he have known that he was about to give his life to one of the oddest jobs anyone ever had? ♪

Hey, man. Don't you know you can get picked up for loitering? What, in front of a precinct house? Not me. I got a friend inside, name of Detective Sergeant Wagle. Yeah, that's me. Say, aren't you Gil Stevens, used to hang around, kid me, was a middle linebacker? No, I didn't hang. I sat on my duff most of the time. Knocked there by a big, ugly, gung-ho offensive guard, supposed to be my buddy. Ah.

Those were the good old days, eh, Gil? Yeah, the best. Tell me, any luck today? Nope. Stockbroker deal didn't work out, huh? Nope. Well, something will turn up. Hey, come on, I'm off duty. Let's you and me go on home and grab a couple of beers. We can pick up some stuff at the deli, you know, get home, take our shoes off, knock a few back, Gil. No, I won't be staying, Deke. I'm moving out tomorrow.

What are you talking about? You can't cut out an old roomie that way. Oh, come off it, Dick. This isn't the old days. You're married. You got a home, a kid, a job, a whole new life. I'm in the way. Betty doesn't mind. I know, but I... I got to split. I can't live off you. Well, what are you going to do? Well, there's always welfare. Or digging ditches. Merchant Marine Army something.

Somebody's got to be able to use a warm body somewhere. It was all my fault. When I got that good job last spring with the paper bag and container company, I should have hung in there and let football go. But then the Hornets had that rash of injuries in training, and they were hurting for linebackers, and they wanted to sign me as a free agent. I couldn't resist, and I was back with the jocks again.

Then the second exhibition game, I got the concussion. And they put me out on waivers, and nobody claimed me, and I ended up back on the bench again. There was suddenly no jobs open. Oh, all right, you knock it off. Now we're going to get things cooking for you. You know something I was thinking? Why not TV or movies or acting or like that? Are you kidding? Other jocks, maybe. Other jocks had big names, a good press. People knew them. Yeah, but just the same. It's like Betty says. Show business is always looking for new names.

Like this here. Cue to casting. Here, let's see this. Equity showcase. Terrific opportunity. Star part for unknown and new play. Man of 30 or less in magnificent condition must sing, dance... Well, I guess not. You gotta be kidding. I'm no actor. I don't have any talent like that. Would you hold it? Now listen to this one. No previous show business experience required. Mature young man...

Must be exactly six feet, weight not over 190, brown hair, light brown eyes, with Midwestern accent. This is a long-term contract, so he should be single and, if possible, unattached. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Knock it off. You know what that is? Some stud for a skin flick. Would you listen for just a minute?

Full bond will be posted. Object cannot be revealed, but this is a nationwide search which will make the winner secure for life. Write post office box 240 daily journal and include copy of birth certificate, photograph, address, and a short biography. Well, what do you think? I think you're a good friend, and I thank you for your interest, Deke. But just let me work this out for myself, huh? I had my Allstate ring.

Pawning that gave me enough to move into the Somerset in the mid-40s off Times Square. I haunted all the part-time employment agencies in the neighborhood. Nothing. Till one day by accident I passed a newsstand and saw a copy of Cue to Casting. On an impulse I bought it. Pretty near my last four bits. In a doorway I leaped through it. And suddenly the ad leaped out at me again. No previous show business required. What the devil, I couldn't lose.

I wrote box 240 and waited for an answer. It came two days later. A message at the hotel desk and an appointment. If the sumptuous hotel and the office number, which turned out to be the penthouse suite, surprised me, my interviewer surprised me even more.

Yes? I'm, uh, I'm Gil Stevens. Oh, please, come in. Uh, you can take your things off and leave them there. My things? I meant your coat, hat, whatever. That'll be sufficient for the moment. Well, now, just a moment, Miss. You'll not like the Christmas log. E-W-E-L-L. Oh. Well, my name is Gil Stevens. Yes, I know. I recognize you from the picture you sent. I could have picked you out anywhere in a crowd.

What does that mean? Just my mordant sense of humor. Mordant? It means... I know what it means. Caustic, sardonic, sarcastic. I only questioned it coming from you. Why? You picture me as the wholesome, all-American girl. Aren't you? I'm a factotum, all-purpose gopher, secretary, girl Friday, okay? You got me pegged. Hey, I didn't mean to get you back up. You didn't? Don't flatter yourself. Are you ready to answer some questions? I'm not sure.

Maybe you're getting my backup. No, no, please, please. I'm sorry. Don't go. Well, it's you. Couldn't know how important. To you? And you. What's so special about me? What is this whole gig, anyway? A perfectly legitimate business deal, if you're interested. Interested? I wouldn't kid you. I'm on the ropes. A job is what I need. I can tell you one thing, honestly. This is one you'll have the inside track on.

Won't you sit down, Mr. Stevens, and let me ask you those questions? As long as it's just between us girls. Shoot. I wouldn't have been so flip if I'd known that it wasn't just between us. I wouldn't have been flip at all, even considering this was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life. I would have taken off and run like I'd intercepted a pass and there was nothing between me and the goal line.

The only difference is once I'd crossed it, I'd have kept on running. Right out of the stadium and the whole game. Rather than ever meet the two I didn't know then were watching me through the one-way mirror on the wall beside the desk. Hubie the Hook and Nick Vados. It's miraculous, Hubie. We found him. Don't strain your brain. Turn on the sound, please. Sure, boys. See your driver's license, please. I suppose I don't have one.

What's incredible? Oh, forgive me. I was just surprised. You're a Taurus, too. A what? A Taurus.

The astrological sign that you were born under. Oh, that's bad? No. No, it's good. Do you have insurance? Yes, so far. What does that mean? Well, if I don't make the next payment, I guess it's kaput. I see. Who's the beneficiary? My mother. Where does she live? In Nebraska. Look, is all this necessary? You put everyone through this? No. So far, you're the only one.

Why me? Because the moment I saw you, I knew you were going to be right for this job. And I think that my boss will be in complete agreement. Yeah, she's right. That's what she'll be. Let's go meet the new Mr. Durwood Drake. I couldn't figure it. Nothing made much sense. What job? What kind of job that depended on the way I looked? Whether I carried insurance? And the most far out of all, what astrological sign I was born under?

But at least I might be about to learn something more. As an inner door opened and two men came in. One was short, squat, and fat. The other was huge. As tall as a basketball center and built as solid as a tackle. I estimated him at 285. With forearms pretty near as big as my thighs. Except that on the end of the left one, instead of a hand, he wore a prosthetic device best described as a hook.

It was the first time I knew for sure I was out of my depth. And I stood a good chance of drowning. Oh, I'd like you to meet my employer and his associate. Hubie, this is Mr. Gil Stevens. Uh-huh. And my boss, Mr. Nicholas Vadis. Mr. Vadis, this is Mr. Gil Stevens. Uh, no, he isn't. What? Well, maybe you don't know it, but Karen, Hubie, and me already do.

Starting as of now, you are the number one mystery man in the world. And the richest. You, my friend, are Mr. Derwood Drake. As Gil stares in astonishment at the fat little man... a cold trickle of fear runs down his backbone. He has no wish to give up his own identity. And some insistent warning tells him that if he did...

The last person it should be for is Durward Drake, except that suddenly his mood changes. For there are few men in America who would not gladly exchange places with a legendary Durward Drake. I'll return shortly with Act Two. Durward Drake.

The name itself evokes mystery, romance. Heir to the Drake Machine Company, international playboy, headline maker as financier, lover, and sportsman. A man who was willing to lay his neck on the line for any risk. Automobile racing, powerboats, flying, skydiving, whatever was exciting and dangerous. And then, suddenly...

Mysteriously, he dropped out of the news and out of sight. Only to become a new source of press interest. This time, speculation instead of reporting. Whatever happened to Durward Drake? Protected by his billions, where does he hide? Why did one of America's foremost playboys suddenly disappear? Is Durward Drake alive?

Or dead. Derwood Drake? Why not? No one could tell you apart from him? What does that mean? You look like him, sound like him. As well as I know him, if I didn't know that you were someone else, I'd swear that you were Derwood. Uh, what was the name again? Mine? Gil Stevens. Excellent, Mr. Stevens. Now, suppose we get down to business. I, uh...

I'm not sure I want to. This is a straight business proposition. We need your services for, say, a month to six weeks. $1,000 a day. $15,000 up front for the first two weeks. Deposited in any bank you say in your name. The rest after you have delivered the service we require of you. What service? There's nothing very complicated. Just pretend to be someone else temporarily. Okay.

It's time the press and the media stopped questioning where you are. You're talking about Mr. Drake? Yes, that's right. You want me to take his place because I look like him? It's taken a lot of money, time, advertising to dig you up. Supposing I told you no? I'd turn you over to Hubie. You'd be his problem. And I'd keep on advertising till I found someone else close enough to handle things. What do you mean, turn me over to Hubie?

Well, you already know too much to let you go. Hey, back off, man. You don't mean you'd have me killed? Why not? You mean you'd have that gorilla shoot me in cold blood? Oh, no, no, no. Hubie needs no guns. Show Mr. Stevens your eraser, Hubie. It's so pretty, but it sure comes in handy. Hubie has no qualms about using that hook. In fact, he rather enjoys it.

I don't imagine you suffer any pangs either. Oh, none at all. I have no conscience. You make a great pair. But I just can't figure what kind of girl would get involved. Just stay out of my affairs. I don't see where you could fit in. Karen happens to be my daughter. And I've heard quite enough from you now, except what I want to hear. Do you accept my proposition? I don't seem to have much choice.

But I still don't see what you need me for as a stand-in for Mr. Drake, unless... Well, you... you killed him. Don't be ridiculous. Scarcely. Don't be silly. My father is Derwood's right-hand man. He couldn't run his empire without him. I can hardly blame you for being suspicious, Mr. Stevens, but let me assure you of one thing.

And trying to hire you, I, all of us, are only acting as Mr. Drake's agents. What's the matter with him? What's he hiding from? He's a recluse. He prefers to keep away from other people. Why? Oh, come, come, come. You read the papers, Mr. Stevens. You know that he's a complex man with many idiosyncrasies. And he's rich enough to be able to indulge them. What are you hesitating for? Surely the pay is generous enough? Oh, it's too generous. Too good to be true.

Just exactly what would I have to do? Very little, actually. Be seen a good deal in public. Escort Karen here to the races, theater. Meet the press. Give them statements we will prepare for you. Appear at some board meetings. Actually, it's a public relations job to restore confidence in Drake Enterprises. Okay. What have I got to lose? When do I start? As of now.

We go straight to the plane. Wait a minute. What about all my stuff at the hotel? And I've got to check out. Oh, very well. You'll be? Yeah, boss. Take Mr. Stevens to his hotel. Let him check out. Pick up his baggage. Get him some dark glasses. And see he wears a muffler around his face. Just in case some smart reporter got wind of the plane and us coming in. And no messages. No contacts. Hey, now look, I don't... You heard the boss. I move everything.

And just so you don't get any funny ideas, I'll give you a little hint of why you shouldn't. The cold steel bit into my neck, stinging like the fangs of a serpent, drawing blood as I instinctively jerked away. Just as instinctively, a sheer reflex action, I swung at the giant. His reaction was fast. My fist slammed into the palm of his one huge hand. The punch stopped so abruptly I nearly dislocated my shoulder. I might as well have hit a wall.

Hubie grinned at me a moment, then closed his hand over my fist. It was like a vice. The pain was excruciating, till suddenly he let go. Don't mess around, buddy. You could get hurt. I went as obediently as a child. What the devil, I told myself. I could take it for six weeks, and 42,000 bucks would put me back on my feet again.

Besides, I reflected, despite all the strong-arm stuff, they'd never dare use it once I was on the job. I'd be too valuable to them. All in all, I decided, as long as I wasn't hurting anyone, this wouldn't hurt me. The only trouble was, I was dead wrong on both counts. Only I didn't learn that till later. He's not married? No. Lives alone? Yes.

Any relatives? One, his mother. Where does she live? Nebraska. What town? I... I don't know. I'll find out. Why? I want her picked up. What for? I want her control. Make sure I knew what Drake does just as he's told. Oh, no, no. Please leave her alone. Don't do that again to someone. I've got to be able to keep them in line. You should understand that better than anyone. Come on, let's get to the plane.

I can't just drop out of sight like I fell off the earth, Mr. Ewell. What'd you call me? Mr. Ewell. The name is Vados. Nicholas Vados. But your daughter... Oh, is she married? No, but her name is Ewell. It's quite correct. You see, she's my stepdaughter. Oh. Why can't you just drop out of sight? Who would miss you? Girlfriend? No, but my friend Deke Wagle and his wife...

I'm supposed to go there for dinner tomorrow night. Oh, we can take care of that. Who else? Relatives, friends? Well, no one here in New York, but... Well, my mother. Didn't Karen say she lives in Nebraska? Yes, but she's quite old and all alone. She'll be expecting to hear from me on Sunday. Where in Nebraska? A little town in the middle of the state. Albion. Mm-hmm. You can get in touch with her on the U.S. coast. Is that a promise? Well, that is a definite promise. What about the deke?

You can call him from here on the plane before we take off. What's the number? 555-4246. You can call that from here? Oh, all the comforts of home. Karen, did you get that number? 555-4246, right. That's right. Buzz me when you have it. I'll pick up here. All right, Nick. What do I tell him? Well, the same way you're going to be telling anyone who needs to know.

That you've gotten a job that takes you out of town, on the road, selling. Selling what? Something logical. Weren't you a football player? Yeah. One of the ones you couldn't tell without the scorecard. Okay. So that's what the job is, sporting equipment. What's the name of the firm? It's a new firm, Hardnitz. No, it won't wash. Deagle want to know how to get in touch with me. Fine, he can reach you through the main office in Chicago. I'll have Karen get the address for you. You mean there really is such a firm?

Yes? Mr. Drake picked it up a couple of months ago. Uh, excuse me a moment. Uh, come in, Hubie. I need you. Yeah, sure, boss. Oh, that'll be your call. You can pick up the phone. Uh, just one warning first. Stick to the script I laid out, hmm?

One false word and you'll be here. We'll drop the curtain on you. Deke wasn't home, but I broke my news to Betty, who was delighted I'd gotten a job and wrote down the address Karen brought me. I kind of dragged out the call because somehow I felt that when I hung up, I was cutting my last link with the past. And in an oddball way, with myself.

Finally, I did. And within 15 minutes, we were airborne. The plane was something else. A 707 laid out like a penthouse apartment with bedrooms, living room, office, kitchen, and dining room. While Vados worked in the office, I got Karen to mix me a drink and join me so I could ask some questions. You might as well have a look at what's in the envelopes. What is it? Pictures of Derwood. I mean, Mr. Drake. Well...

Here's looking at you before I look at him. To better acquaintance. Please, don't do that. You're a funny girl. I can't figure you out. Don't try. Stick to business. Open the envelope. Okay. Is this the way he looks now? Those were taken some time ago before he... before he went into hiding. Hmm.

And you think I look that much like him? Once you grow a mustache and we get your hair dyed darker. I don't particularly see it. I do. Boy, when you talk and look at me like that, I could almost forget what a... Go ahead. Finish it. No, it doesn't matter. Uh, where are we heading for? Vegas. Las Vegas? Well, I thought he, Mr. Drake, was out of the country somewhere. He was. He isn't anymore.

You sure he's alive? Oh, yes. Quite sure. Then what's the point of me? Who needs me? He does. Why? That is something he'll have to tell you himself. That was all I could get out of Karen or Nick Vados or Hubie. The man of mystery that I was hired to double for remained as much a man of mystery as ever.

Till we got to Vegas. The plane landed and a helicopter was waiting to lift us back into the hills to a cleverly concealed complex of building, masked from the air by trees and surrounded by an electrified fence. The security was tighter than Fort Knox. I got some notion of why from my introduction to Derwer Drake. All right, Mr. Stevens. You're about to find out the answer to many of your questions. I'm going to meet Mr. Drake?

Not exactly meet him. He's not very sociable. But you may see him. I think that perhaps will explain a great deal. Where are you taking me? To the room next to his. We have found it advisable to make arrangements so that we can keep an eye on him. It's all right, Carl. It's just me. Allow Mr. Stevens here to look through the viewer.

Well, you are about to meet the man you resemble so closely. I was looking through a viewer that fitted to my eyes like the mask on a periscope or an old stereopticon. By some trick of complimenting mirrors, the entire room was revealed and somehow lighted at the same time so that even though the drapes were drawn and the room shaded, every detail was as clear as bright daylight. Too clear. Too clear.

as I looked at the man sitting on a chair facing me. I could feel my stomach churn like I was going to be sick. I was literally frozen with horror as I finally saw why Derwood Drake had chosen to become a recluse. What is Gil seeing through that strange device that is revolting him?

What had happened to the man whose disappearance from society had so intrigued and mystified not only his own countrymen, but half the world? I shall return shortly with Act Three. This was the picture Gil Stevens saw, a travesty of his own face.

barely recognizable, like the distorted reflection in a carnival mirror. The forehead was thickened and distended by the overgrowth of the frontal sinuses. The nose and lips were thickened and coarsened. The whole head was gigantic in comparison with the body that supported it, as were the huge hands and feet. It was a sight at once so horrible and repellent

that though he wanted to shut it out, he was held as though spellbound. Good Lord. What happened to him? The medical name is acromegaly, a form of giantism. It's caused by hyperfunction of the pituitary. Can't anything be done about it? With his money, don't you suppose everything has been tried? In his case, no. No wonder the poor devil hides himself away. Is he sane?

If you mean, are his mental processes impaired by the disease? Not at all. Physically, his symptoms are all outwards. Psychologically, well, that's another matter in town. What kind of future does he have? He lives only for one thing. His, uh, well, called an empire. Which is getting shaky. We'll go in the other room. We can talk. After you, Mr. Drake. That's not my name. From now on, it is.

What exactly is it he wants me to do? Be what he can't, or won't allow himself to be. His visible presence. What difference will that make? Oh, a great deal. Believe me. The flaw in the empire that Derwood Drake built is that it is a one-man show. None of his companies are public. There are no boards, no machinery of government except for him. He dictates all strategy, all direction, all finances.

His system has worked because he is a prodigious genius... and has the confidence of every top echelon member of all his staffs. Well, I should say... had. He's lost their confidence? He's losing it because he's hidden himself away so long. More and more people are becoming convinced that he's dead... and they're starting to desert. Why? Because of taxes. Under the present financial structure, the death taxes would be so colossal... it would bring the whole conglomerate down like a house of cards. Everyone knows that...

Man, they want to jump before it happens. The nervous ones are starting to bail out already. And since he won't show himself as he is, he had to find a substitute. Correct. Look, I'll never get away with it. I mean, even if people take me for him, I don't know the ones he knows. Or anything about business, or... I don't know a thousand things. While you're growing your mustache, you'll be instructed by me and Karen and... Everywhere you go, one of us will accompany you. It'll work, because it must. No!

The next week was a nightmare cram course. Charts, names, faces, thumbnail sketches, scrapbooks of old news stories, pictures, biographies written about him, a detailed personal history of his life, mostly told me by Karen. Uh, where are we heading for? The summer house? If you don't mind. No. I just wondered why you always head for there when you talk about him. Oh, just habit, I guess. How come you know so much about him, Karen? Because I...

We were going to be married before... Before he got sick? Yes. Do you, uh... Do you still love him? I don't know. It's hard to tell after all this time, particularly since... Oh, it's so unfair. You're so like him. I... Sometimes I'm afraid to look at you. What am I going to do? Hey, hey, hang in there, baby. Is there anything I can do to help? Yes. I don't know. If only I could think of a...

Oh, it's Hubie. Hide me for a minute so I can dry my eyes. Sure. I don't want him to know what I told you. He won't. Oh, hello, Hubie. Are you looking for us? Uh, yeah, yeah. The boss wants to see the geek. The what? The performer, Wonder Boy here. Oh, I gotta say one thing for you, fella. Oh, you're the spittin' image of number one.

Come on, you. We don't want to keep Mr. Votto's waiting. You come too, Karen. What does he want, Hubie? I think he wants to put pretty boy here to work. I think we're going to let him out on a leash and let the public look him over. The next two weeks were a whirl. I spent most of them with Karen. But I was so busy meeting politicians, bank presidents, corporation men, trying to keep them straight and remember which I was supposed to know and which I didn't,

that I had no chance to talk to Karen about what I really wanted to. What she'd been trying to say in the summer house when Hubie interrupted us. Even the few times I tried to get her alone, she avoided it. Apparently, she had decided against talking to me. And then late one afternoon, while she was instructing me on people I would meet the next day, she led me to the summer house.

This tall man with the heavy horn-rimmed glasses is chairman of the board of Roswell Refineries. You know him casually as well as the other people in these pictures. Here, let's sit down. You look them over and I'll identify them for you. Keep concentrating as if you were memorizing the pictures. I have to talk to you. Um, this is wife? I'm listening. That's she. First name, Marjorie.

He's dying. I just found out. It changes everything. Mr. Drake? Yes. Vados isn't trying to save the Empire. He's pirating it. How can he do that? Through you. He'll teach you to forge Durwood's signature. Durwood can't sign for himself anymore. Why not? The disease is spreading. He's almost blind. His heart is already affected.

It's only a matter of time. Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to be a forger. You'll have no choice. I'm not committing any crimes. I have to take my chances. It isn't yourself you'll have to worry about. What does that mean? I'm sorry, Gilbert. They have your mother. What? Watch it. Don't think Hubie or someone doesn't have binoculars on us. At least I know this place isn't bugged. Are you sure about my mother? Yes. Now, there's only one way out.

Only two people stand between us and freedom. Hubie and Vados. What about the army of guards? We don't have to worry about them. If I can just get to see Derwood, he'll be our passport to freedom. Then see him. That's the trouble. Since... well, since his illness, he's left orders he doesn't want to see me. Not that Vados would allow me to anyway. Then we're back at the beginning. How can we get rid of those two?

It would take a gun to stop that tank, Hubie. Can you get hold of one? Not a chance. How about when we're out? I got a friend who's a cop I could call in New York. Or we could go to the police here. We could. And never see either of our mothers again. Then it's got to be here. You keep Vados busy. And I'll have to figure a way to take Hubie. How? That's the big question, all right. How? How?

The next couple of days, I studied Hubie as carefully as I ever crammed on pregame films. How he moved, his reactions, their speed and predictability, probing for a weakness. Whatever I did, if I went for him, I'd most likely have only one shot to take him out. I had to figure out what it would be. And then I thought I saw it. His hand. It was amazing in that big hulk, but it was as soft as a baby's.

The nails always lovingly manicured by someone, clean as a woman's. And the care he took of it, it was his most precious possession. He didn't want anything to happen to that hand. But as it happened, it was my hand that triggered the climax. Right, damn you, Stevens, right. My hand is cramped, Vados. I gotta rest it. I suppose there's time. How much are you planning to milk the conglomerate for?

Oh, 50 or 60 million. All the available liquid assets I can lay my hands on. Well, that'll bankrupt everyone. Throw thousands of people out of jobs. I told you I had no conscience. And once you have your money, all the rest of us will become dispensable, too. Well, we'll cross that bridge. Let's see how cooperative I find you. Let Karen and her mother and mine go, and I'll cooperate all the way. Even if I were disposed to, that'd be quite impossible. I need their cooperation, too.

I'm quite sure I couldn't count on it if they were free. Now, come on. You're wasting time, Mr. Stevens. Well, I'm afraid you need a little more persuasion. I'll send Hubie upstairs to arrange that. No sense in kidding myself. If I was going to make a move, this was the time. I had a glimmering of an idea. There was a heavy glass paperweight on the desk. I made a fist over it with my left hand. In the right, I had a pen.

I opened the big, heavy teak desk drawer on my right and pushed some pens in there towards the back. I was as ready as I ever would be for Hubie. I hear the boss wants you moved along a little faster, huh? Well, no, no, honest, Hubie. I'm getting it. You better. It's just my hand is cramped and the pen's out of ink.

You, uh, you want to give me a new one out of the drawer? Ah, get it yourself. As soon as I, as I work the cramp out, my, my fingers won't open. Ah, yeah, that'll open. Here, here, here. I'll get the pen. As soon as he reached his hand in, with all the power I could summon, I slammed the drawer shut. Ah, my hand! I could hear the bones grind and snap. And at the same time, I

I brought my left hand around with the paperweight in it to the pit of his stomach. It was like hitting a board. I'm going to kill you for that. My hand. I'm going to cut you to ribbons. He pulled open the drawer with his hook, freeing the mangled right hand. And then his face twisted with rage and pain. He started to stalk me. I moved backwards lightly, waiting for an opening.

At least I didn't have to be afraid of the right hand now. And I felt my reflexes would be quicker than his. Suddenly, the door was at my back. Now, and my timing had to be just right, I waited till he raised the hook. Then, pushing off from the door with all the strength in my leg, I went underneath and low for an ankle tackle. With a grunt, I took his feet right out from under him. And to save himself...

The hook bit into the oak door like it was pine. As he struggled to free it, I hit him hard behind the ear with a paperweight. Three times. Until he sat limply and the body fell heavily to the floor. The stump tearing out of the harness and leaving the hook impaled in the door. I dragged him away. Struggled for a moment until I freed the hook. At least it was some kind of weapon. I pulled open the door. Karen was just coming down the hall. Look out!

Nick, he's coming upstairs and he has a gun. I turned. His head was just coming level with the landing. With an expression of utter fury, he lifted the gun he was carrying, aiming it at Karen. Not you, but her. I warned you, Dad! He never got the warning out, because reflexively as he brought up the gun, I had hurled hook and harness at him. Turning and twisting in the air, the two razor-sharp prongs had dug deep into the jugular on each side of his fat neck.

He fell like a stone all the way down the stairs. Well? Everything is all right. Derwood knows everything. He'll be our safe conduct. Oh, Gil. Take it easy. It's all over. Vados, is he... Is he dead? It was him or me. And Hubie? You couldn't crack that skull with a poleaxe.

But he's trussed up tight, so if he comes to, he's not going anywhere. Oh, but we are out of here. I'll go get Derwood. You know, one thing I'm happy about... We need at least one. ...that he doesn't see so well. I wouldn't want him to look at you and see what, well, what he once was. Under hospital care, Derwood Drake's death was less imminent than it seemed.

He lived long enough to reorganize his companies and save his empire. It was his genius that accomplished it, but the actual work was carried out by his new right-hand man. Gil Stevens simply carried out orders, including a personal one Durward insisted on. Gil resisted at first, but finally carried it out, since, after all, it was the one he most wanted to obey.

He married Karen. I'll be back shortly. I am indebted to Hubie, that unforgettable character, for the title of this story. Not only that, but to learn that that puzzling phrase has nothing to do with expectoration. It comes from the old English word spit, meaning an exact likeness. Thus,

Your double is your spit and image. Our cast included Michael Tolan, Patricia Elliott, Ralph Bell, and Earl Hammond. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. Oh, God.

I am so sorry. I bothered everyone. Now, Karen, you know there's no such thing as a ghost. Where was this ghost, Karen? She came from the woods near the greenhouse and on the lawn.

She... Oh, yeah. Yeah, she. The white ghost. She's always a woman. And this woman, she had long blonde hair. And her face. I could not see her face. Because she doesn't exist. Oh, yeah. Yeah, the white ghost. She's always a girl who's been murdered. And she comes back. Now, that's nonsense. Oh, no. But it is true.

She always come back to the house of the people who have loved her to let them know she still loves them. But we don't know any girl who has been murdered. Yes, we do. Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by Sinoff, the sinus medicines, and True Value Hardware Stores. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre.

Until next time, pleasant dreams.

Now there's a new way to share weird darkness with the weirdos in your life. It's a skill on your Amazon Echo device. Just say, play Weird Darkness, and you'll immediately start hearing the newest episode. With your Amazon Echo or smart device, you can let me keep you company all day and all night. And it's easy to tell your friends how to tune in, too. Just tell your Amazon device, play Weird Darkness, to start listening.

Do you like my horror-able humor episodes called Mind of Marler? If so, and you'd like more, it now has its very own podcast. Comedic creeps, sarcastic scares, frivolous frights, macabre madness. Every week I dive into strange history, twisted true crime, and paranormal weirdness. All the stuff you'd expect from me on Weird Darkness, but delivered with dark comedy, satire, and just the right amount of absurdity.

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!

It happened when I lived for a time in Cornwall. Trisillac was the name of the house where it happened.

and it stood quite alone at the head of a coom from which you could hear the sea but you couldn't actually see it. It was advertised in a nearby town as secluded and secluded it most certainly was. It also happened to be cheap and in those days I was poor and so I found my way to the farm of Mr Hosking on whose land the house stood and who was offering the house at a very reasonable rent.

You come to see me? If you're Farmer Hosking. I'm Farmer Hosking. What's it about? About the house you have for rent. Tresillac? Is that its name? Yes. You'd better come inside, hadn't you? Thank you. Sit down. Oh, thank you, Mr. Hosking. You been to the agent in town, then? Yes. On your own, are you? Yes. Yes, I am. I see.

Bit odd, isn't it? What, Mr. Hosking? That I should want to rent a house or that I'm on my own? A bit of both, to tell the truth. Well, if we're going to tell the truth... No, no, miss, don't get angry. I only ask because, well, I'm not saying you're like the others, but... What others? The other tenants. The other tenants that have come here.

Some of them have caused me no end of trouble. I haven't come here to cause you trouble. I'm not saying you have, miss, but I have to be careful now. Because the house is secluded, they got up to all kinds of things. Shady goings-on, I can tell you. Why, I... I don't think I want to know the details, Mr. Hosking. I can assure you that in my case, nothing shady will go on as far as I'm concerned. Yes, well... What does that mean?

A young lady on her own. No husband, no guardian, no protector of any kind comes here out of the blue. Well, I don't know. Mr Hosking, let me be as truthful with you as you have been with me. First and foremost, I am a spinster from a decent family. I am a spinster by choice.

and upon the recent death of my mother, I decided I would like to live a rural life of combined seemliness and economy, for I have only a small, regular income. Well, I don't know what more I can say. Proof? Uh, look, perhaps this letter from the family solicitor informing me of my annuity would be sufficient proof of identity and integrity. Uh...

If you did come here... Yes? If, mind, only if. There is one thing I must tell you, though. Oh? And what's that? Whoever takes the house must take Mrs. Cahill along with it. Mrs. Cahill? Is she the housekeeper? Yes. She was the wife of a late cousin of mine. I see. I'm sorry, miss, but I had to make it a rule after... Well, after some of the things that happened up there with the previous tenants...

You won't find her so bad, Miss. Mary Cahill's a sensible, comfortable woman, and she knows the place inside out. She was in service there to Squire Kendall until he sold up and went. Her first place it was. Yes. If you'd be good enough, Mr. Hosky, perhaps I could see the house now. Of course, Miss. Follow me. And this would be your bedroom, Miss Poulton, if you decided to rent the house, that is.

Oh, Mrs. Carhill, it's perfect. Absolutely perfect. This is better than anything I dreamed of. I shouldn't let my cousin hear you say that if I were you. He'll want to put the rent up. I take it you like the house, then? Oh, yes.

Everything is so immaculate. You keep it in beautiful order, Mrs. Carhill. Thank you. Then you'd like to rent the place, is that it? Oh, yes, Mr. Hosking. It's beautiful. I've fallen in love with Tresillac already, and I like this room best of all. I think she'll be happy here, Robert. Oh, I know I should be. And it is for the rent specified, isn't it, Mr. Hosking? Yes, it is. Then if I suit you...

What do you think, Mary? Does she suit? I think she'll suit nicely, Robert. Oh, Mrs. Garhill. Good morning. Been along the beach, have you? Yes, it's a lovely walk down from the coon. You go there very early in the morning, Miss. Don't you find it chill in the air at that time? A little, but it's bracing.

I don't disturb you, do I? Getting up so early? No, no. I heard you one morning, and so I thought you weren't feeling well. So I went to your room, but you weren't there. Then I saw from the window you walking up the path, so I guessed what you were up to. I suppose...

You don't have much time to go out, Mrs. Carhill. Oh, yes. Well, enough to satisfy my old bones. I don't know how you have any free time at all. You keep my bedroom, well, the whole house so spotless. That's kind of you to say so, Miss. Makes me feel more than a little guilty, I can tell you. Guilty? Guilty?

Why should you feel guilty? That you won't allow me to help. I wouldn't mind, really. But you're the tenant, Miss Poulton. It's not required of you. But the house is so big. And I have so little to do except some writing I've started. I can manage, thank you, Miss Poulton. All that polishing and cleaning. You don't need to worry about it. I enjoy housework. I take great pride in the way Tresillac looks. I wouldn't want anyone into it.

Well, taking over what is, after all, my job. Well, I must be the luckiest person alive. My every need is attended to. If I were paying twice the rent, I couldn't ask for more. That's why I feel so guilty, Mrs. Carhill. I've been here a month now, and I don't think I'm contributing enough. I can't afford to pay more, but I could help more by... Mrs. Carhill? Mrs. Carhill? Hmm? What? Are you all right?

yes yes I'm sorry what were you saying? what is it? did you hear something? oh no no my mind just strayed to one of those little jobs I should be doing and which so far today has been neglected well Miss Fulton if you'll excuse me I have a great deal to do

Yes, Mrs. Carhill always had a great deal to do. Meals were prepared to the moment. In a hundred odd little ways, this orderliness, these preparations, seemed to anticipate my every desire. Did I but wish the roses renewed on the dinner table, and sure enough, at the next meal they would have been replaced by fresh ones.

I told myself that Mrs. Carhill must have noticed and interpreted a glance of mine and had done it forthwith. One morning, I thought I'd test her. I woke up extra early and went down to the kitchen to discover whether Mrs. Carhill was an even earlier riser than myself, carrying out all the housework in the first light of dawn. Mrs. Carhill? Mrs. Carhill! Heavens! I can't!

I don't believe it. Everything's spotless again. Clean as a new pin. You're getting up earlier than ever, Miss Poulton. Oh, Mrs. Coyle, you frightened me. I didn't hear... I'm sorry. I followed you down because I heard you pass my door and then call out. Well, no, I wasn't calling out exactly.

The kitchen is so clean and tidy. Isn't it usually, then? Oh, of course. Please don't misunderstand me. The kitchen, my room, everywhere in the house, in fact, is always spotless. No. I'm asking, well, questioning, really, when you could possibly have done all this work. Is that so important? Not in itself, no.

But last night, after all the jam-making, I came in here to make myself a cup of tea. And the kitchen was a tip. An absolute tip. What are you trying to say, Miss Poulton? Well, you couldn't have cleaned up last night because you went to bed before me. I was reading in the dining room till quite late and I heard you go upstairs. Shortly afterwards, I came in here and made myself a cup of tea.

So I imagine that you must do your housework, or at least the major part of it, in the very early hours of the morning. I thought... well, I thought I'd come down and test my theory out, that's all. Catch you out. But what do I find? It's already done. Yes, impeccably. Everything has been scrubbed. The utensils gleam, the kitchen range sparkles...

When, Mrs. Carhill? When? That's all I ask. Miss Poulton, if it'll put your mind at rest, then I must tell you I'm one of those people who cannot sleep knowing there's a job left undone. You were quite right. I was tired after all that jab-making, and I decided to have 40 winks in my room before coming back down to the kitchen to clear up. I came down about, oh, I suppose it must have been about 2 o'clock.

I see. It only took me an hour. Then I went to bed again and slept content. It must have taken you much longer than an hour to complete all this, surely? Not an hour, that's all. The clock struck three as I came upstairs. As I've said before, Mrs. Carhill, you're a remarkable woman. A truly remarkable woman. Fulton, some roses, aren't they lovely? Beautiful, miss.

I'll get a vase to put them in. Thank you. On their lovely colour. And the fragrance is quite overpowering. I thought they'd look nice in the hall. You're not putting them in your room, then? Well, I wasn't planning to, no. Oh, I see. Here's the vase, Miss. Oh, thank you. Yes, that'll be perfect. Mrs. Coyle? Yes, Miss? This tap isn't working. Not working, Miss? No. It wasn't yesterday either, I noticed. There isn't a drop of water coming out. Look.

Let me look. Maybe it's stuck. Well, no, it hasn't stuck. See, you can turn it on and off quite easily. There simply isn't any water coming through. Dear me. You'll have to fill the vase from the bathroom tap. The taps in the rest of the house appear to be working quite normally. I never use the pantry tap myself. I've no cause to. No, but there has to be a reason. And you must find it a great nuisance washing up the plates and glasses in the kitchen and not here in the pantry, surely. I

I suggest we go and take a look at the cistern. The cistern's all right, Miss. I assure you, I don't think that's the trouble. For someone who's so proud of Tricelac. I am, Miss. You know I am. Yes, well, then you must be concerned about the tap.

and the possible reasons for its not working. I mean, at the moment it's only affecting this tap, but if left, the trouble could spread. I mean, one morning we could wake up and find ourselves without water altogether. Now let's do as I say and take a look at the cistern at the back of the house. It's just as I thought, Mrs. Carhill. What's that? The big cistern is just about full, and yet the smaller one, this one at a lower level, is empty. And what does that mean, miss? I

I'm afraid I'm not very good at this sort of thing. Well, it means the pipe between the two cisterns is choked. Now, let me see if I can... I wouldn't do that, miss. I really wouldn't do that. The pantry tap is only cold water and of no use to me. The kitchen boiler gives me hot water, you see, and that serves to do... Yes, but I want the pantry water for my flowers. Ah, I thought as much. There, there's something blocking the pipe. A plug. A plug?

Or a cork. Oh, look. It was stuck in the outlet. See, Mrs. Garhill? It was stopping the flow of water completely. Good Lord. What, miss? It looks as if... Oh, no. Well, it appears that someone has deliberately placed it there. See? The cork's covered in a piece of rag. A calico print to make it fit better in the outlet hole. I... Oh, no. No, that's too silly for words. Yes, miss?

Nothing, Mrs. Garhill. Nothing. Oh, what in heaven's name is... It's not raining and yet... What's the time? Two o'clock. Oh dear, I just can't concentrate on my book with that noise going on. There's a tap on somewhere. That's it. And it's running into a drain outside my window. It's the pantry tap.

Oh, what's that? Oh, it can't be the tap running again. I turned it off. I know I did. It is the tap. It's Mrs. Cahill's doing. Oh, no, don't be silly. Why would she want to do that? To get her own back because she didn't want that pantry tap working. Oh, no, that doesn't make sense. Oh, damn the tap.

I'll have to go downstairs and turn it off again, I suppose. Oh, my God! Oh, no! No! No, I'm seeing things. I must be seeing things. Oh, Mrs. Carhill! Mrs. Carhill! Mrs. Carhill, come quickly! Come quickly! Come quickly!

I tell you, Mrs. Cahill, I've never seen anything like it before in my life. At the sink in the pantry, two small hands, a child's hands. I can't tell you how they ended. They weren't cut off or anything like that, but I saw them distinctly. Just a pair of small hands, the wrists, and after that, nothing. They

They were washing themselves clean. I saw the water trickling and splashing over them, not through them, but just as it would on real hands. And they were the hands of a girl, too. Boys wash their hands differently from girls. Don't ask me how, but there is a difference, an unmistakable difference. Well, Mrs. Cahill, you knew the time. You knew. It was you who plugged the cistern, wasn't it?

That piece of calico print, I knew I'd seen it before. One of the dresses you wear. What do you want me to say, Miss Poulton? You have seen. You must tell me, never mind how bad the details are. Is it...

Murder? Oh, Lord bless you, Miss. Whatever put such horrors in your head? She was washing her hands. And so she does, poor dear. But murder? And dear little Miss Margaret wouldn't hurt a fly. Miss Margaret? That's right. Squire Kendall's only daughter. She died when she was seven, and that was about 20 years ago. I was her nurse, Miss, so I know. Diphtheria it was. She got it down in the village. But

How do you know? It's Margaret. Those hands. How could I mistake the hands of a child I'd held in my arms so often? But why does she wash them? Well, miss, being always a dainty child, and the housework, you see...

you mean to tell me that all this tidying and dusting is it she who's been taking care of me who's been cleaning and polishing my room cleaning the kitchen who else miss oh poor little soul i'm so glad you take it like this because there's really nothing to be afraid of is there it's my belief she loves you miss really

well i just think of what a dreadful time she must have had with the others the others what others the other tenants miss the ones here before you were they bad they were dreadful didn't farmhousekin tell you

They carried on fearful, one after the other, and each one worse than the last. What was the matter with him, Mrs. Carhill? Drink? With some of them it was, yes. There was a major, he used to go mad with it and run about the coop in his nightshirt. Oh, scandalous it was.

And his wife drank, too. That is, if she ever was his wife. Just think of that tender child washing up after their nasty goings-on. Oh, poor thing. But that wasn't the worst by a long way. There was a pair here from the colonies, or so they said, with two children, a boy and a girl. The elder was scarcely six. Poor mites. What happened? They beat those children, miss. Oh. Your blood had boiled. And starved and tortured them, too, if the truth were told. Oh.

You could hear their screams, I've been told, way back along the high road. And that's the best part of half a mile away. Sometimes they were locked up without food for days on end. But it's my belief that little Miss Margaret managed to feed them somehow. Oh, I can see her creeping to their door and comforting them. No more, I beg you, if I'm to have any peace of mind in this house. But you won't go? Surely, Miss, she loves you. I know she does.

and think what you might be leaving her to. What do you mean? Well, what sort of tenant may come next to replace you? For she can't go, even if you can. She's been here ever since her father sold the place, and he died soon after. No, miss, you mustn't go. You can't. Oh, Mrs. Carhill. Please, miss, say you won't go. Very well, I won't go. Oh, thank God.

Thank you, Miss Poulton. After all, it's as you say. There's nothing to be afraid of. That's it, Miss. It's nothing at all. We've got the secret between us, so we can lie in our beds, and if we hear anything, we can say, God bless the child, and go straight back to sleep. I spent three happy years at Trisillac, and all that while, we shared the secret.

It ran through my waking life like a song. It smoothed my pillow, touched and made my table comely, in summer lifted the heads of the flowers as I passed, and in the winter watched the fire with me and kept it bright. Then that fateful day came as I knew it must, the day I had to leave Tricillac. So, the house. That's right, miss. I know it's nothing to do with me, Mr. Hosking, but...

May I inquire the name of the purchaser? Colonel Kendall, miss. Brother of the old squire. Brother of C. A married man, is he, the colonel? Oh, yes, miss, with a family of eight. As pretty children as you ever saw. And the mother is a good and gracious lady.

It's the old home to Colonel Cantle, so he says. And that is why you felt bound to sell him the house, is that it? Well, I have to admit to the fact that he's offering a good price as well. I see. Of course, I'm very sorry to have to turn you out, Miss Bolton.

I know you've enjoyed your stay here. The house has meant a lot to you. Yes, it has, Mr. Hosking. It has indeed. However, I think you're doing the right thing. You've told her then, Robert? Aye, Mary, I have. I'm sorry, miss. I really am. Don't be silly, Mary. I think your cousin is doing the right thing. I've just told him so. Colonel Kendall. Yes, it sounds right.

Oh, but what's going to happen to you? I shall be staying. Oh, good. That's good news. The colonel said he wanted a housekeeper, and I said if he didn't mind, well, then neither did I. Good. That's settled, then. Till the end of the month, then, miss. Yes, Mr. Hosking. I'll be gone by the end of the month. Excuse me. Must get back. Of course, Mr. Hosking. And thank you.

Don't look so sad, Mary. I know it's right for her, for Margaret. She'll be so happy with her cousins for company. That's what I thought. Oh, Miss, I'm so glad you think the same. I do. I do.

You all packed then, Miss Poulton? Yes, all packed. I'll miss you. Honest to God, I will. I'll miss you, Mary. Still, I'm all fixed up. I found myself a furnished room in London with a well-to-do family. They want a companion. I shall be all right. And I'll write to you often. Oh, yes. Do that, please. Before I go, there is something... Oh, I know, it may sound silly. What's that, Miss?

I want to say goodbye to Miss Margaret. Do you think you ought? I'd like to just say goodbye. There can be nothing wrong in that, surely. And so, while Mrs. Carhill waited in the drawing room, I went into the kitchen and then threw into the coolness of the pantry. I whispered. There was no answer. I had scarcely hoped for one. Yet, I tried again.

Shutting my eyes this time, I stretched out both my hands and whispered, "And, and, I will swear to my dying day that two little hands came and rested for a moment in mine." *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *Dramatic music* *D 荧* *Dramatic music* *D 荧* *Dramatic music* *D 荧* *D 荧* *D romantic music* *D romantic music* *D romantic music* *

No, no, stay where you are. Do not break the stillness of this moment. For this is a time of mystery. A time when imagination is free.

and moves forward swiftly, silently. This is... The Haunting Hour. By request. A man sits quietly by his fire.

His eyes drawn to the shifting, darting tongues of flame. The crackle of the burning wood breaks in upon the silence, and the man stares comfortably in his chair. Roger Stevens is at peace with the world. Lost in the stillness of his study, the goodwill of the universe seems crowded into this man's successful life. But there is a deception to this peaceful scene of contentment.

For at this very moment, the life of Roger Stevens abruptly changes its course. There it is, the phone jangling harshly, cutting the silence into jarring bits of sound. Roger Stevens becomes aware of the insistent ringing. He rises from his chair, walks toward the telephone. He is wondering who can be calling at this late hour. It is almost midnight. There, he is lifting up the phone.

Hello? Hello? Who is this, please? Is this Roger Stevens? Yes, but who's calling? Did you live in Oak City about ten years ago? Yes. See here, who the devil is this? My name doesn't matter, Mr. Stevens, but I'd like you to know that I'm a friend of Mike. Mike? Mike?

Mike who? You know who I mean, all right? Say, if this is some sort of joke, it's a rather poor one. I'm afraid I'll have to bid you good night. Don't do that, Mr. Stevens. You'd better hear what I have to say. Who are you? I guess you wouldn't know me without my wings, Mr. Stevens, but you might call me an avenging angel. And... Oh, you're drunk. Go home and sleep at all. I've been looking for you for ten years. I thought you might have changed your name, but you played it smart. After the verdict of suicide...

You figured you were in the clear. Now look here, whoever you are. This ceases to be an amusing situation. If you don't tell me who you are and what you want, I'm going to hang up. All right, Mr. Stevens, if that's the way you want it, okay, I'll give it to you straight. Ten years ago, Mike was in business with you. He found you were stealing from company funds. You killed him. Forced the books to make it look like you'd been the guilty man. And planted the idea of suicide. I never believed it.

Never. Why, you're crazy. I don't know what you're talking about. And when I came home, I tried to tell the police that it couldn't have been suicide, but they wouldn't listen. You had left the city. No one knew where. Now, listen to me, you fool. You've got the wrong man. I don't know any man named Mike. I never killed anyone. I know you murdered Mike, Mr. Stevens. I've got the proof. But I'm not giving it to the cops. I'm going to kill you myself. What?

I'm going to make you suffer like Mike. Now, look, I tell you, you're wrong. I don't know who you are or what you want. If this is some joke... You know it's not a joke. Now, look, if you don't leave me alone, I'll call the police. That's a good idea, Mr. Stevens. Why not tell the police you're a murderer? It might be better that way, with clear Mike. Okay, then. Two days are all you get. Confess the murder in two days, or I'll kill you myself. Confess to what? I've done nothing. Two days, Mr. Stevens. Two days.

Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Now, I've heard stories like this before, Mr. Stevens. There's no cause for alarm. But this fellow threatened to kill me, Lieutenant. Naturally, that's part of the routine. These practical jokers have rather wild imaginations. Lieutenant, I'm not yet convinced. Take my word for it, then. I've been a police officer for 20 years, and I know a phony threat when I hear it.

As for this murder you're supposed to have committed, well, I'm afraid the verdict is not guilty. Hello? Sorry to bother you again so soon, Mr. Steele. What is it? Why don't you let me alone? I'll be around for two days.

Unless you just made that unnecessary. What do you mean? I just followed you to the police station. Did you confess to killing Mike? Oh, stop it, stop it. Now, this has gone too far. Carrying murder around on your conscience for ten years must have worn you down. Now, listen to me, whoever you are. I don't know what you're talking about. I've been to the police, but only to report you for the nuisance you are. Now, I have a great deal of work to do, and I need my rest. Please don't bother me again. Good night. There. That should end it.

Oh, Walter, come in. I'm glad to see you. Sorry to disturb you this late, Roger. But I noticed a light in your window as I was passing by. Say, you look rather drawn. Huh? Been reading a mystery or something? Worse than that, Walter. I've been in one. You what? Oh, that's wonderful. Here, let me sit down by the fire. Tell me all about it. It's not that amusing, Walter. Oh, I'm sorry, Roger. I didn't realize you were so upset.

Well, tell Professor Stone all about it. Well, it began about two hours ago. Some fellow called me up on the phone and insisted that I'd murdered a friend of his. Roger, are you making this up? Of course not. I told you it was incredible. This fellow, whoever he is, claimed that his friend used to be a partner of mine, that he supposedly committed suicide, but in reality, I'd killed him. Roger, I've only known you for a few years, but it's never quite struck me that you were a jack-in-the-hide character. I went immediately to the police, but they...

They insist it's only a practical joke. What else could it be? Well, then how do you account for the fact that a few moments after I returned home, this madman phoned me again. He insisted that I confess the murder and he's given me two days in which to do it. And if you don't confess this imaginary murder... He's going to kill me. Say, he's covered everything. A very thorough fellow. But who can it be? Oh, probably one of the boys down at the office.

You've been driving him pretty hard, you know. Well, I've got to, Walter. I promised the architectural blueprints for the new Wilson skyscraper by next week. If I don't deliver, I might as well declare bankruptcy. That's the biggest job I've ever gotten. Yes, I know. Your bid was a few thousand lower than mine. I hope you make it, Roger. It's a wonderful chance for you. Don't I know it. Everything was going along beautifully until this maniac began to bother me tonight. I'm worried about this.

He must have me confused with someone else. Oh, forget about that, Roger. You heard the last of him. Ah, there it is again. Shall I answer? No. Well, I will. Maybe it's someone else. At this time of night? Hello? I'm outside the house, waiting. Why don't you tell me who you are? Here, let me have it. Hello? Hello? There's no one on here. Hello? Hello? Hello?

You're not hearing things, are you, Roger? Oh, please, Walter, not from you. I couldn't stand it. Couldn't you recognize the voice? No, I can't. He's not familiar at all. I wonder why he left the wire when he heard my voice. Perhaps he knew you would have recognized him. Yes, that's probably it, Roger. Well, whoever it is, you'll be able to dress him down properly when you discover his identity. Then it'll be your turn to call him up all night long. We're only a simple design. If only...

If only what, Roger? Oh, nothing, Walter, nothing. Well, I'll be getting along, Roger. You look as if you need some rest. I hope I can get it. Better see to it that you do. You have to be in shape for those Wilson building blueprints tomorrow. Somehow they seem unimportant now. Look here, Roger. You're letting this thing get the better of you. Now hold on to yourself. Don't let this jokester upset you. Thanks, Walter. I'll be all right. That's the boy. Well, have a good night, please.

Well, it's about time you showed up, Stevens. I've been waiting here for you at my office for an hour. Oh, I'm very sorry, Mr. Green. I came as quickly as I could. Do you have the blueprints for the Wilson building? Well, you know, it's quite an assignment, Mr. Green. I'm aware of that, Stevens. But your company promised those plans would be ready for me this week.

I've got to start construction the day after tomorrow. Well, you'll have them, Mr. Queen. I'm finishing them this evening at home. Very well, then. I'll expect the blueprints no later than to moon tomorrow. Well, they'll be ready. I promise you that. And if you fail, Stevens, you're through as an architect. I promise you that. Thank you.

Joe, is my car ready? Oh, hello, Mr. Stevens. Yeah, sure. It's all service. Oh, thanks, Joe. Oh, say, Mr. Stevens. Yeah, Joe. Some fellow passed by and left this message for you. He... Who was he? I don't know. I never saw him before. You... All right, Joe. Thanks. Okay, Mr. Stevens. Joe?

Mike and me are waiting. Tell the cops the truth about the murder. You have one more day. Best regards, the Angel. I've never heard of any criminal called the Angel. This fellow's no ordinary crook, Lieutenant. He's got me confused with someone else. Someone who really murdered his friend. Well, you could check with the police of Oak City, but you don't even know the name of your hypothetical victim.

Besides, it's obviously a hoax. You're a reputable citizen. But can't you trace this man by his note? Even a Ouija board couldn't help me with this, Mr. Stevens. It's printed, and there's no legitimate signature. Any man in this city could have written it. Well, isn't there anything you can do? Frankly, I don't think anything's necessary. I still feel this is nothing but the work of a practical joker. Look, can't you give me a police guard? Tell you what I'll do, Mr. Stevens.

I'll post a man outside your house. That's the best I can do at the moment. Well... That's all I can do. What about the telephone call? I can't stop calls from coming through. But don't worry too much about that. Your angel is bound to get a wrong number sometimes. All these plans for the building. I've got to finish them. If he'd only leave me alone. I can't think. Green must have them. Construction the day after tomorrow.

No, I won't answer. Why doesn't he let me alone? If it only stopped ringing. Hello, Mr. Stevens. I've been waiting for you to pick up the phone. I know you're there. That's all right. You don't have to answer. I guess you're tired. Ten years of hiding would be tough on any man. But it'll soon be over. Just one more day.

Good night, Mr. Stevens. It won't be long now. Hello. Hello. Yes, Mr. Stevens. Operator. Yes, sir? Quickly, trace that call that just came to my apartment. What was that, Mr. Stevens? I said trace that call I just got. I don't understand, sir. There hasn't been a call to your apartment for two hours. Hello?

The life of Roger Stevens has turned sharply from its security and contentment to a torment of fear and anxiety. A strange man has been phoning him constantly, threatening him with death unless he confesses a murder to the police.

Stevens has one more day left in which to confess this crime of which he knows nothing, or he will be killed. Roger Stevens feels a growing terror in his heart. Just a few moments ago, he had received another telephone call. But upon asking the switchboard operator to institute an immediate tracer, he was informed that no one had phoned his apartment for the past two hours. Roger Stevens sits in his study.

staring vacantly into the fire, the dull glaze of fear in his eyes.

The jangling of the phone again, like a sharp sudden pain. He jumps up quickly, runs rapidly across the room. Hello? Hello? I understand you're looking for me, Mr. Stevens. Oh, yes, yes. I'd like to find you. You'll see me soon enough. You can count on that. Look, why don't you come to see me now, huh? Maybe we can talk this over. I made our bargain, Mr. Stevens. There's nothing else to say. I'll pay you anything. Only go away. Leave me alone. You haven't much time left.

Better make up your mind. For the last time, I tell you, I don't know your friend, Mike. You won't even let me know his last name. You know his name. Tell it to the police. Hey, look, I'm carrying a gun. If you try to touch me, I'll kill you. Put it back in your desk. It won't do you any good. You're going to die. And without any company from me. You're a brave man, hiding behind a voice. I won't have to much longer. Goodbye, Mr. Stevens. This is the last time I'll be calling you. The next time we talk...

You'll see me much better than you do now. No, no, no, wait, wait. I have, too long. Oh.

Yeah, I know, Mr. Stevens, but a private detective has other things to do besides running around looking for comedians. Mr. Harris, I'll pay you any price you want, but I must have your protection. Sorry, Mr. Stevens, but I can't take the case. But the man who's been calling me is a dangerous criminal. He's threatened to kill me. If he does, it'll be a joke on him. Oh, I'm sorry, but you see...

I've heard so many similar cases to yours. How do you account for the telephone call to my apartment? Well, maybe the switchboard operator is in on the gag. Or maybe it's your imagination. It wasn't my imagination. There was such a call. Well, whoever your friend is, he's covered all the angles. Then will you help me? No. No, Mr. Stevens, I'm afraid I can't. It's not in my line. When you have a meter on your hands, look me up.

Take hold of yourself, Roger. You're going to pieces. What would you do? Somebody's threatened my life. I don't know him. I don't know what he's talking about. You know, it's just possible that this whole thing is real. I know it is. I know it is. Walter, you've got to help me. What can I do? Stay here in my office with me, Walter. Stay with me. You'll never come near me with you around. I can't do that, Roger.

Oh, it's ridiculous. He wouldn't dare harm you. He's just trying to frighten you. I'm not sure. I don't know. How can I take a chance with my life? Listen, Roger. You've got to get a grip on yourself. Green wants those blueprints by this afternoon. You know what it means if you fail to deliver them. I don't care. I can't finish them. But you must. It'll mean the end of your business if you don't. I don't care. I don't care. I can't do it. Roger, come to your senses. Green will be here at any moment. Now, what did you tell him? I'll tell him just what I've told you. I'm giving up the plan. The Wilson building can be built by somebody else. You take it over.

Are you sure of all this? Yes. You made up your mind? Yes, yes. Good heavens. Leave me alone, will you? All right. All right, Roger. You know what you want. You go over to my place and wait for me there. I'll speak to Green when he arrives. I can stay with you, Walter. Of course you can, Roger. Now, don't worry anymore about those telephone calls. We'll fight this thing together. Thanks, Walter.

You'll hurry, won't you? As soon as I can, Roger. Here, I'll walk to the elevator with him. He said I have until tonight. It'll probably end then. He's tired of the whole thing himself. If I could only be sure. Here we are. Look, why don't you come home with me now, huh? Be reasonable, Roger. I've got to talk to Green about new blueprints for the Wilson building. Going down, sir? Goodbye, Roger. And don't worry...

All the way, sir? Huh? Oh, uh, street level, yes. Say, you're new here, aren't you? Yes, Mr. Stevens. Well, that's strange, you're knowing my name. I saw you come in. I make it my business to know all the tenants in the places I work. You know, you're strangely familiar to me. I've worked in a lot of buildings. No, it's not your face, it's...

Anything wrong, sir? No. No, it's nothing. You were saying something about my being familiar, Mr. Steele. No, no, I was mistaken. Forgive me. What's wrong? Why are we stopping? I don't know. We're stuck. What floor is this? We've stopped between the fifth and sixth floors. Well, use your emergency switch. I've got to get out of here. The lights. The lights have gone out. Yeah. Yeah, our power's off.

We may be stuck here for a few hours. Well, we can't be not jailed up here in this elevator shaft. You don't have much choice, Mr. Stevens. You better make yourself comfortable. Your voice, here in the dark, there's something about it I... Oz, is that what you recognize? No, no, there's just something about it. It's probably just my imagination. Well, Mr. Stevens? Yes. Yes, what is it?

I guess this is it. What do you mean? There comes a time when every man's life... No, stop that. No, no, don't, don't, don't, don't. Come near me. When you pull your ideas together and think of how quickly the years have gone... No, no, no, no, please, no, no, don't touch me. Please. Life just seems to slip through your fingers. No, no, don't! No!

All right. All right, everybody, stand back. Stand back. Give him a little air, will you? What's wrong here? What happened to Mr. Stevens? The elevator got stuck in the shaft, sir. Mr. Stevens, well, he sort of went to pieces. Stevens. Stevens, wake up, man. Wake up.

How do you feel? Oh, Mr. Green. Yes. The elevator man, he tried to attack me. Oh, I did nothing of the sort, sir. He just went wild in the car and began screaming like someone was trying to murder him. Before you had this fit of yours, Stevens, did you finish the plans? I didn't do anything to him. All right, that's enough. I believe you. Well, Stevens. No, Mr. Green, I'm sorry. Walter Stone is up at my office. He's taking over. He had better take over everything, Stevens.

You're through in this town. I'll see to that.

Hello, Roger. Oh, hello, Walter. Come as quickly as I could. Old Man Green was a bit of a problem. It took a lot of convincing that I could finish the plan. Don't talk to me about the blueprints. I'm not interested. Oh, what you need is a good rest. Go away and forget about this morbid joke. You still persist in calling it a joke, huh? I'm sorry, Roger. Walter. Walter, this is my last night. I haven't gone to the police to confess. I'm afraid. I'm terribly afraid.

What happened to you in the elevator? Oh, I don't remember it too clearly. I thought the operator was the man who's been phoning me. I spoke to him on the way down in his car. He told me he was just talking to pass the time when you suddenly seemed to go crazy. Maybe I am. I don't know. Take it easy, Roger. It's all... Oh, it'll never be over.

What do you mean, never? I'm going to get myself up. You really are going crazy. I don't know the man who's been calling me, but I can't take this any longer. I'm going to tell the police the truth. The truth? Yes, Warner. Ten years ago, I did murder a man. His name wasn't Mike. It was George Matthews. He was my partner. Great Scott, Roger. It's unbelievable. Why do you think these calls began to drive me out of my mind? If it were just a joke, I'd have ignored these phone calls. Then you did kill George Matthews in Oak City. Yes, in Oak City. How did you know it was Oak City?

Why, I... I never told you I lived in Oak City. I never told you it was Oak City this fellow Mike was supposed to have been murdered in. Look, Rogers, stop imagining. I told you it's all over. And the plans for the Wilson building. You wanted that contract. You always did. Excuse me, Rogers. The phone. I've got to answer it. No, I'll answer that phone. Maybe it's our friend. Rogers, I think it would be better if I... I'm going to answer that phone if I have to knock you down first. Hello? Yes? Yes.

I guess it's all finished, Mr. Stone. I understand you got the contract. Boy, you should have seen Stevens in the elevator. He almost went nuts. Would you mind repeating that? I said he almost... Wait. Who is this? Go on. What's the rest of it? Who is this? You're not Mr. Stone. He hung up. Roger. Please.

Put that gun away, Roger. I once warned the voice over the phone that I carried a gun. Didn't he tell you? Put it away. We can talk this out man to man. Yes, Walter, you made the same mistake I did. You were too greedy. It never works out. That call that the switchboard operator denied receiving, you planned that also, didn't you? I didn't know you'd killed a man, Roger. I asked the operator to say she hadn't received any calls, but it was all part of a harmless plan. It was all an accident. I...

I just wanted to frighten you into not finishing the plans. I needed the contract. Walter, you've given me a brilliant idea. Stay away from me. Stay away. No, Roger. Please, it was only a joke. Glad you didn't get the last laugh. Roger. Operator. Operator, get me the police. I want to confess a murder.

The End

From shadows and stillness, mystery weaves a spell of strangest fascination, charging the mind with doubts and fears. For mystery is a strange companion, a living memory in the haunting hour.

You can stay in this cabin and fight it out, or face the men who are waiting to lynch you. Either way, it's a poor choice. Have Gun. Will Travel.

Starring Mr. John Daner as Paladin. San Francisco, 1875. The Carlton Hotel. Headquarters of the man called Paladin. Oh, good morning, Mr. Wong.

Mr. Chang, good morning. Please, Miss Wong, at the Cotton Hotel, you speak to me as, hey boy, everyone does. Oh, yes, I forget.

Good morning, hey boy. Good morning. Oh, you did not meet Mr. Paladin before he left? No. The lady in charge was showing me what the new duties would be each morning. He left very early. Oh, yes. But in a few days, he'll return. Then I introduce you to my very good friend. Oh, that would be very great pleasure. Oh, yes. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Something is wrong? Oh, when you make Mr. Paladin's bed, you make it West Point style. West Point? I don't know what you mean, West Point. Oh, I show you. Oh, Mr. Paladin very particular about bed made army way. Mr. Paladin?

Oh no no no but he was several years ago. Oh yes. He say it is only proper way to make bed. Ah so. You do not tuck your blanket on the corner like this. Oh no. Watch careful now. First you fold on the bottom side like this. Then you hold up the end of blanket and tuck on the corner like this. Now drop blanket and tuck on the whole side. Oh.

Oh, goodness, very smooth this way, Mr. Chang. Yes, a hay boy. Ah, yes, a hay boy. May I please try the other side? Okay. Mr. Paladin teaches you to make bed like this? Oh, yes. Oh, yes. I learn many things from Mr. Paladin. While I work at Carlton Hotel, perhaps you teach me many things? Oh, yes. It would be a great pleasure.

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See your authorized Longine Whitmore jeweler. He will be honored to serve you. The job was finished. The man who had hired me and Salinas had given me an extra hundred dollars to prove that he was pleased, and I was on my way back to San Francisco. It was good to be alone on horseback. As I rode through the verdant coastal valley, I was reminded of Illinois, as I had known it when I was younger.

In my imagination, I could see myself riding along on my father's farm, everything very green and sparkling and wonderfully new. Hours became minutes. Then suddenly I realized it was almost sundown, and I was lost. I'd apparently taken the wrong turn at a fork a few miles back. My plans had been to stay overnight in Morgan Hill with an old friend, but now I'd have to bed down on the trail after I found water.

While I was looking for a stream, I saw some smoke circling over the treetops a couple of hundred yards ahead. A closer look revealed a small cabin nestled in a grove of eucalyptus. Easy, boy, easy. Don't come no closer. This is private property. Well, hold your fire. I'm not trespassing. This is my land. Strangers ain't welcome. How come you're nosing around here? I was looking for a creek. My horse needs water. Don't look for creeks in these parts.

Everybody around here as friendly as you? Just be on your way, mister. Look, I've been riding all day. If you look at my horse, you can tell he needs water. You got a well. I'd be willing to pay. How much? You tell me. It's your water. You willing to pay two dollars? That's your price. Let me see the money. Here. All right. You can have the water. Dismount and walk your horse up to that trough by the pump. I'll be right behind you with this rifle. All right. Walk. Walk.

You're mighty free with that rifle. Been a lot of horse stealing lately. You got a lot of horses? Few out back. They're good ones. They're worth stealing. I don't take any chances. I see. Man don't just happen to wander out of my land. This ain't on the road to no place. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't got lost. I was on my way to Morgan Hill. You're better than ten miles from Morgan Hill.

There's not much water in the trough. There's more when it's gone. I'm afraid I won't have any luck picking up that trail before morning. It's going to be a dark night. Dirk? What is it, Agnes? Supper's on the table. I'll be in in a minute. What's he doing here? Watering his horse. Dirk, I heard the shooting. What was it? Nothing. Who's that man with you? A stranger. Is he staying for supper? No.

I'll need more water. Well, you just pump it yourself. Turk, why did you hit him? I don't trust him. You killed him. He ain't dead. He ain't moving. Why'd you do it? I aim to find out who he is. He don't look like he's breathing. He's breathing. There ought to be something in this wallet telling who he is. You read the printing on this card? I see. It says, have gun, will travel...

Wire Paladin. San Francisco. His name is Paladin. And that card means he's a hired gun. You don't think... I might have known. Come snooping around here near dark saying he's lost. You think the ranchers hired him? Yeah. Probably old Fred Mosley. I got more of his horses than any others. Don't pay, really, does it? What do you mean? Always running, hiding, pretending. Don't mount to a thing.

We could make a better living digging clams on the beach. Horse thieving don't amount to a thing, Dirk. Now, don't start that again. You just get us ready to move out of here by sunup. What are you going to do with him? I don't know. I never killed a man before. This just might be the first time. No!

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Finally, when I was able to focus my eyes, I found I was lying on a bed in the corner of the cabin. In the middle of the room, there was a table with a dim lamp on it, and the woman, Agnes, was bending over a box, stuffing it with pots and pans. She must have heard me move because she looked up. Oh, finally woke up, huh? Why did he hit me? You can be thankful he didn't kill you. Why would he want to kill me?

We're on to you, mister. Dirk thought you looked suspicious and he was right. He found your card. We know you was hired by the ranches to come after Dirk. I don't know what you're talking about. I suppose you deny your name's Paladin. No, that's my name. Well, don't be tricking me. You can be honest with me because I saved your life. Dirk wanted to kill you, but I talked him out of it. You can thank me for that. I'm grateful. I do thank you. That ain't your skin I'm worried about.

I'm just not going to have my husband start killing. Why would the ranchers hire me to get Dirk? There you go again. Now, listen. I don't know who your husband is or what he's done. I was lost. The smoke from your cabin led me here. I wasn't hired by any ranchers. I don't know anybody this side of Morgan Hill. Now, believe me. I'm telling you the truth. If you are, we wouldn't have to move on. I'm telling you the truth. We could stay here...

Dirk? Dirk? Come in here. You believe me? Maybe I do. I wasn't lying. I'd like to believe you. Maybe because I'm tired of running. Maybe because I like this valley, this cabin. Seems like a home. I told you to keep the door closed. What do you want? He woke up. Is that why you called me in here? I was talking to him.

I think you ought to hear what he's got to say. We don't have time to prate with bounty hunters. I got the wagon hitched up. Are you done with the packing? He says he wasn't hired by the ranchers. Has he been giving you some soft talk? You always was a sucker for soft talk. I wasn't soft talking your wife. The ranchers didn't hire me. If he's telling the truth, we don't have to run. I'm not taking any chances. Dirk! Now, Sly, get down on the floor. Can you see anything? No. No.

Now, it's pitch dark out there. Come on out, Dirk. We know it's you that's been stealing our horses. Come on out. That's Fred Mosley. Come and get me, Mosley. There's the answer to your soft-talking friend, Agnes. Listen to me. She was beginning to believe you. I was right. You was hired by the Mosley gang. I don't know Mosley. I didn't know you were a horse thief. You ain't even a good liar. Look, if you'll untie me, I'll prove to you I'm not with those men.

I'll help you out of here and see to it you get a fair trial. Otherwise, they'll hang you. Derek, maybe what he's saying... He's tricking us again. Don't listen to him, Magnus. He led those men here. I should have killed you in the first place. And I'd shoot you now, but I got a better plan. Mosley! Yeah? I got your man tied up in here. What man? The man you hired to come after me. We didn't hire any man. He says he was hired by you.

His name's Paladin. I'm going to shoot him if you don't leave me be. It won't work. You're wasting your breath trying to fool us, Dirk. If you don't come out, we'll burn you out. Do you believe me now, Dirk? Maybe he was telling the truth. It don't matter now whether I believe you or not. They're going to burn the cabin. Paladin, what would you do if we untied you? Help to see that your husband doesn't get lynched. Now, how can you do that? Well, there's at least three men out there, and they're not going to settle for anything less than a lynching.

No matter what you or anybody else says to him. Besides, what do you care if I hang or not? I believe in a fair trial. A man's guilty, it should be decided in a courtroom. Trial or no trial, I'm gonna hang. At least you wouldn't hang tonight. You'll have a chance to hire a good lawyer. Are you coming out, Dirk? Or do you want to stay in there and fry? Paladin, how do you figure on getting me this fair trial you're talking about? Give yourself up.

They'll take you nearby. I can follow you and surprise them before they get the rope around your neck. Agnes can go with me with a shotgun. With us undercover in the dark, the odds will be just about even. All right. All right, maybe it'll work. But there's just one thing you didn't mention. What's that? Agnes will stay behind you all the way with that shotgun, and she'll shoot you if you don't do what you just now said. Fair enough. All right, Agnes. Untie him.

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I can feel it.

You're different from most. You're clean. There ain't no pretending with you. I know that for sure now. Hold up. All right, get down. We'll walk from here. Now follow me and be as quiet as you can. There they are. Quiet now.

Come on. All right. Let's stop here. He already got the rope tied on his neck. Yeah. And they're ready to slap the horse out from under him. Hurry, Paladin. Stay behind this rock.

Keep this shotgun trained on Mosley, but don't shoot unless you have to. I'm going to move up closer. Mosley! Who's that? I got four men with me armed with shotguns. We say you're not going to hang Dirk. Come on out here where I can see you. Not likely. Why do you want to stop a hanging? He's a horse thief. Clear out, Mosley, before we start shooting.

How do I know there's four of you? Try us. You don't leave me much choice, mister. We can't fight men we can't see. All right, Tom. You and Bill get on your horses. Mosley, don't try anything. We're leaving. Oh, wait. Oh, no. Agnes, stay back there. Dirk, Dirk.

Can you hear me? You cut him down in time, didn't you? He's all right. He ain't moving, but I know he's all right. Ain't he? He's dead. We didn't stop him, did we? Slapped that horse out from under Dirk right before our very eyes. I'm sorry, Agnes. You tried. That's all you could do. You want to cry, Agnes? Go ahead. It'd help. I don't want to cry. I knew it was going to happen one way or another. That's why I was scared. I'm sorry.

But it's all over now. I'm not scared anymore. How would you like to help solve a mystery? This is a medical mystery. The mystery of MS, multiple sclerosis. Multiple sclerosis is a chronic crippling disease of the central nervous system. It can affect various parts of the body and usually puts its victims in wheelchairs.

Those victims, thousands of them, are hit mainly in young adulthood, in the age group between 20 and 40. Nearly all of them, when they're told they have multiple sclerosis, say they've never dreamed it could happen to them. As a matter of fact, it can happen to anybody. That's one of the few things we know about MS. Much of the rest is a mystery. But you can help solve that mystery. Its solution will come through painstaking, costly medical and scientific research.

The money for this research must come from the MS Hope Chest. Help fill that hope chest now. Give new hope to thousands of sufferers from MS by giving to your nearest chapter of the Multiple Sclerosis Society or sending your contribution to MS in care of your local postmaster.

And Sam Rolfe is produced and directed by Norman MacDonald and stars John Daner as Paladin with Ben Wright as Hayboy. Tonight's story was written by Frank Michael. Featured in the cast were Vic Perron, Gene Bates, Joseph Kearns, and Virginia Gregg. This is Hugh Douglas speaking. Join us again next week for Have Gun, Will Travel. Have Gun, Will Travel

Mystery is my hobby. Today's story took place one evening last October. It was Indian summer, and I had gone out for a stroll after dining alone at the Lamplighter's Club.

Suddenly, a young girl rushed up and threw her arms about my neck. Darling, how are you? I beg your pardon. Well, after that, I'm sorry I'm not the man you were looking for. Don't pretend that you know me. I'm being followed. Followed? By whom? He's behind you. Leaning against the bank building. Oh, no, no, don't turn around. Oh?

There's a policeman on the corner. I'll call him. No, no, no. A policeman would only make things worse. But... Come, walk along with me. Here, I'll take your arm. He must be convinced that we're old friends. This is not...

Rather an amazing experience. Would you mind telling me your name? It's Claire Wesley. You've probably heard of my uncle, Howard Wesley. Howard Wesley. Oh, yes, yes, of course. He recently returned home after being malumed on a South Sea island for more than 30 years. Yes, Uncle Howard was the only survivor of the line of Belmoral. He had a most unusual experience. And what is your uncle's return to do with the man who you believe is following you? A good deal. Barton, James. What?

Oh, you know my name. Oh, yes. Oh, please trust me. I need your help. Oh? When Uncle Howard was living on his island, he discovered a buried treasure. Buried treasure? Now come, Miss Watson. Oh, I'm serious, Mr. Drake. Uncle Howard drew a map.

At first we thought, like you, that, well, perhaps he'd only been imagining finding a treasure. Mm-hmm. And what convinced you, otherwise? Well, he'd removed part of the treasure and brought it home with him. Oh, I see. What type of valuables were they? A few old coins dated in the 16th century. A brooch and a ring. You've checked and found them authentic? Yes. Two experts have guaranteed their authenticity. Well, well.

And why exactly do you need my help? Because... Well, because someone is trying to steal the map. Oh. Ever since the newspaper story was published, men have been coming to the house. And what makes you think their purpose is to steal the map? Because of the way Uncle Howard acts. He's terrified half the time and... Oh, yes, yes, yes. My advice to you, Miss Wesley, is to get in touch with the police immediately. Oh, but you don't understand. There have been threatening letters. Uncle Howard has been warned that...

that he'll be murdered if he contacts the police. Miss Wesley, I don't understand why... Uncle Harvey's been away so long, you see. Well, he's afraid of civilization. He told me he'd destroy the map if it would assure him of a peaceful existence for the rest of his days. I see.

Tell me, are you your Uncle Howard's only heir, Miss Wesley? No, no. They're a damn. And actually, you don't want the map to be... Yes, you're quite right, Mr. Drake. Naturally, we don't want the map destroyed or stolen. It is worth a small fortune. I don't pretend that we're not interested in that fortune. I'd be a hypocrite to say otherwise. I admire your frankness, Miss Wesley. Thank you.

Oh, Mr. Drake, will you come in and talk to Uncle Howard? What if your uncle's striking to people, if he suspects that everyone's attempting to steal his man? I'll introduce you as my fiancé. Your fiancé? You tempt me, Miss Wesley. Then you will come? How can I refuse? First I'm accosted and kissed by a beautiful girl. Then asked to be your fiancé. Lead the way. Oh!

I'm in the library, Mr. Drake. Uncle Howard, this is Miss Jessica and Hall. I'll call in. Thank you. Miss Wesley. Yes? Since we're supposed to be engaged, can we drop the formalities? Just for appearances' sake, of course. Why, I... Well, I suppose so. Your uncle, I'm sure, would think it strange to hear his niece referring to the man with whom she's deeply in love as Mr. Drake. Deeply in... Oh...

Very well, Barton. Thank you, Claire. I'll be back in a moment. That is interesting. What? By Joke. Maybe something hit the matter after all. I'm coming. Take it easy. Claire, what happened? Good heavens. It's Uncle Howard. He's been shot. He's dead.

The End

Now, what? You really don't expect me to believe that stuff about buried treasure and maps and shipwrecked millionaires, do you? I was just amazed that you are, First Inspector. But now you believe it, eh? I don't know. That man's been murdered. Apparently, there were no other motives but obtaining possession of the treasure map. Treasure map. Look.

How did this guy happen to be rescued after being lost for 32 years anyhow? Well, according to the newspaper, Inspector, a fisherman found a sealed bottle on which there was a note written 32 years ago by Howard Wesley giving the location of his island. Shades of Captain Kidd. But have you been reading adventure books or something? You don't believe it, eh, Inspector? Of course not.

Look, have you seen the treasure map or the note that was sealed in the bottle? Not yet, but I expect to shortly. Oh, Claire, come in. Claire, this is Inspector Noah Danton. How do you do, Inspector Danton? Hi. Just a minute. But how long have you and Claire known each other? About an hour, Inspector. You see, Claire... An hour, he says.

And already he calls her Claire. I'm trying to explain, Inspector. Mr. Drake, if you don't mind, I think we'd better forget the fact that we were engaged. Engaged? After all, my uncle has been...

Is dead? Yes, I know. However... Oh, please, Mr. Drake. I'd rather not discuss it. Very well, Miss Wesley. But I just can't believe your grief over your uncle's death is very sincere. I beg your pardon? After all, you've known your uncle for less than a month. But I... According to the story, he disappeared 32 years ago. Are you 32 years old, Miss Wesley? Of course.

Of course not. Which means that he disappeared several years before you were born. Say, that's right, isn't it? I'm afraid, Miss Wesley, that the bond of affection that you feel toward your Uncle Howard is based on something much more practical than deep human emotion. I see. Very well, Mr. Drake. Since that's the way you feel, I'll have to ask you to leave. Whoa, just a minute, lady. Drake stays. There's been a murder, remember? I don't care if there has. Mr. Drake was working for me and... And now he's working for me.

Go ahead, Bart. Ask your question. Thank you, Inspector. I'm sorry, Miss West. Is that the map of the buried treasure you're holding? Yes.

If you care to look at it. Thank you. And now, if you don't mind, I'll go. Unless I'm to consider myself under arrest. Now, look, young lady, we haven't got time to fool around with injured pride. And that sort of thing... Now, wait a minute. Miss Wesley, did you find the note that was taken from the sealed bottle? Find it? Why, I think it's in my purse. Oh, yes, here it is.

Thank you. In her purse, she carries it. Well, is there something wrong with that? And Judd copied it all for the newspapers, and I put the note back in my purse. Well, how can you possibly think... Who's Judd? He's my half-brother. Why? Just asking. What's the note say about... I'll read it, Inspector. Here we go.

Weather signs this. Please have the authorities broadcast by radio my location. Somewhere near 18 degrees south latitude and 175 degrees west longitude. Long ways away. Now go ahead, bud. I'm the sole survivor of the liner Bell Morrill, wrecked four months after leaving New York.

I could go mad unless soon rescued. We'll try and hold out until help arrives. Find Howard Westley. It doesn't tell us anything. I read the same thing in a newspaper a month ago. Yes, so did I, Inspector. Miss Westley. Yes? If your uncle valued this treasure map so much, how was it that you were able to put your hands on it immediately? Uncle Howard valued my confidence also, Mr. Drake. Oh, so then he told you where the map was hidden? Yes. Hmm.

Did Judd Graham also know the hiding place? Of course. However, Judd is inclined to disbelieve Uncle Howard's story of the buried treasure. Well, it's nice to know that someone's being smart in this field. Oh, well. You still discredit the story of the buried treasure, eh, Inspector? Sure I do, white dog. I'm a... Why, Inspector?

Why, why? Why do you discredit the story? Because it doesn't make sense. No? Now, look. This is the room where Howard Wesley was found murdered, isn't it? Okay, look around. Everything's in order. Nothing touched. No drawers open. No rug pulled up. Nothing. Mm-hmm. Well...

If the guy who murdered Wesley was looking for the buried treasure map, he'd have turned the place upside down. You're forgetting, Inspector, that the map was hidden in another room. Miss Wesley just brought it to us. Okay. How about it, Miss Wesley? Was the other room that side? Why, no.

As a matter of fact, it wasn't. Well, I guess that proves my point. I'm not dumb, you know, Bart. You certainly are, Inspector. Your reasoning in this particular instance was most logical. Well, thanks, Bart. It seems nice to have you agree with me. I'm sorry, Inspector, but I don't agree with you. Huh? I think that the person who murdered Howard Wesley believes there is a buried treasure. I believe his motive for murder was to secure possession of that map.

I also believe that the murderer will return here within 24 hours. Hello, Betty. Well, Judge Graham, where have you been? I got here as quickly as I could. Quickly as you could? That's a lie. You've been drinking. You stopped at Tony's. Oh, Betty, listen to me. Put your hands off me. I told you what the deal was going to be.

Well, did you get the map? Oh, be reasonable, Betty. I did what you told me. I tried to find it. Oh, Judd. And you promised. I know I promised, and I'll keep the promise. Believe me, I will. How can I believe you now? Oh, Betty, listen to me. The map's around the house somewhere. It's got to be. You've been saying that for a month. What if someone else finds it first? Oh, how can they? Claire and I are the only ones allowed in the house. But Claire might have... Oh, that's nonsense. Even if Claire did know where Uncle Howard had hidden the map, she wouldn't steal it. Are you sure? I'm positive.

Claire... Claire isn't that kind of girl. I see. Then you think that I am. No, no, I don't think that at all. I... I think you're the most wonderful girl in the world. Do you, Jack? You know I do. Jack? Yes, Betty? Love me? Yes, I... I love you so much, I... I sometimes think I'll go mad. Darling, kiss me. Betty, I...

You will go away with me, won't you? Well, of course I will, Judge, darling. And we're going to be terribly happy together. Only... Yes, yes. Only you want me to get the map. But, darling, don't you see we haven't any money? It wouldn't be any fun without money. And so many people would pay us for the map. Okay, okay. I'll try again. Well, you don't want.

Oh, I do, Betty. I do. I said I would, didn't I? Doesn't sound very convincing. You don't seem to care what I want. Oh, Betty, stop talking like that. You know that's all I care about. Well... I'll get the map for you, Betty. If it's what you want, I'll get her. Even if I have to... If I have to kill Uncle Howard. Oh!

Well, I must say, Mr. Drake, I'm not much impressed with your method of solving a murder. Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Wesley.

What would you suggest I do? Oh, I don't know. I'm sure. But I'm not a detective. If I were, I'd certainly do more than merely sit around waiting for the murderer to put in appearance. Then you don't think he will? Certainly not. That story about a criminal returning to the scene of his crime is a fallacy. Is it really? Very well. Laugh at me. But I...

But I've read a dozen times where that theory's been explored. I'm not laughing, Miss Wesley. Furthermore, I've read the same thing. But of course, being Barton Drake, you're going to prove that the authorities are wrong. I'm going to attempt to.

I can tell you better what my chances of success are after Inspector Danton has completed his search of the house. And just what does Inspector Danton expect to find as the result of his search? I don't know. Possibly he thinks the murderer might be lurking in some dark closet ready to pop out at us. I'm not amused, Mr. Danton. No? Well, then perhaps you'd like to accompany me on an errand I have to do. Well, under the circumstances... My destination is a reference room of the morning lecture. But I don't believe that I... I'm quite sure I can show you something of interest, Miss Wesley. I see...

You're not asking me to go. You're demanding. Oh, come, Miss Wesley. You suspect me of murdering my uncle. All right. I'm your prisoner. What a very charming prisoner. Will you get your hat, please? Let me see now. September 5th. September 6th.

Here we are, Saturday, September 8th. If you're looking for the account of my uncle's rescue, it's on page 7. Thank you, Miss Westwood.

Page seven. Here it is. Lost millionaire rescued after 32 years on South Sea Island. Do you know good to read the entire account, Mr. Drake? You'll find that everything I've told you is true. Are you bored, Miss Wesley? I've had more exciting times. Miss Wesley, you are a very charming prisoner. Your flattery is wasted, Mr. Drake. Oh, I'm sorry. Pardon me, please.

Howard Wesley, millionaire, who worked a leaf ground from his yacht to Del Moro. What do you know about that? Oh, Mr. Wesley's taking up temporary residence with his niece, Miss Claire Wesley, at her home on Clark Street.

Hmm. I suppose by that, hmm, you mean to imply that you've made a great discovery. Indeed I do, Miss Westley. Oh, what for goodness sake? For one thing, I'm surprised to learn that your uncle was picked up in a small boat which he had manufactured himself. How remarkable. The fact that Uncle Howard manufactured a boat of his own gives Barton Drake a clue to the identity of his murderer. Yes, it's amazing, isn't it, Miss Westley?

Well, let's go back to the house. Inspector Danton will be getting impatient. Well, here we are, Betty. You wait outside and I'll... Oh, nothing doing. This time I'm going to see to it that you really look for that mess. Yeah, but Claire might be home and... I hope she is. Time I met that sister of yours.

Say, you're not ashamed to introduce me to her, are you? Of course not. I... I want you to meet her, darling. Only... Only what? Uh, nothing, nothing. Come along. Why did you ring the bell? Well, if Claire's home, I don't want to go barging in on her unannounced. Well, no one's answered the bell. Have you got a key? Yes, I've got one.

No one here could have heard us before now. I guess you're right. Where's your Uncle Tim? Come with me. You're sure he keeps a map in the house? Oh, yes. He wouldn't trust it anywhere else. This is Uncle Howard's room here. Well, at least he doesn't keep his door locked. Well, it wouldn't do him any good. The keys to all the rooms are the same. Nobody here.

Uncle Howard and Claire probably went out together. They usually do at this time of day. Well, come on, let's get started. Well, you begin at the bureau, and I'll go through with this. Okay. Hey, what does the map look like anyway? Oh, it's just an ordinary piece of paper. All right, you two, get your hands up. Say, what is this? Who the devil are you? Sandy Claus. Now, do you get your hands up? Don't do it, Judd. He's after the map. Don't.

Go and get him. Get him. Yeah, get him. How about it, Bob? Are you going to take the babe's advice or mine? I got the gun, you know. What is it you want? If it's the map, you're wasting your time. Bob, in just a second, I'm going to waste a bullet. Oh, don't believe him, Judd. He wouldn't dare shoot. Lady, it looks like you're asking me to plug holes in your boyfriend. All right, all right, all right. I've got my hands up.

Now, what am I supposed to do? You're supposed to tell this babe to shut up, for one thing. Oh, don't listen to him, Judd. He's going to try and make you tell her the map is. Lady, if you don't button up your lip, I'll... Tell him who you are, Judd. Tell him you live here. Tell him... Live here? Tell him a horsey lives here. Who do you think you are, breaking into honest people's houses? You're just a... Now, wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Bob, is your name Judd Graham? Well, of course he's Judd Graham. You knew he was all the time. Now get out of here before we call the police. Oh, shut up. I won't shut up. You won't make me shut up. I know why you're here. Why? What? I said why. What? Now, just a minute, Betty. For heaven's sake, calm down. There's nothing we can do so long as he has the gun. Bob, you're smart. Now look. What's that? Don't get excited. It's only Drake. Drake? Who's he? You'll see in a minute. Hey, Bob.

Bart. Down here. Coming, Inspector. Well, what have we here? A talking machine and a guy who says his name is Judd Graham. A couple of cops. Judd? What in the world has happened? Perhaps you can tell us, Claire. If this man is a friend of yours, I wish you asked him to point that gun the other way. But why is he pointing it at you at all?

Doesn't he know who you are? Sure, he knows who we are. We just told him, but the big flatfoot hasn't got any sense. One more crack out of you, lady, and I'll... You what? Just a minute, please, please. Inspector, whom did you think these two people were? How should I know? They come sneaking in here, began poking around. I figured they were looking for the map. The map? Oh, then it's all a mistake. Judd wouldn't have to look for the map. He knows as well as I will Uncle Howard kept it. What was that?

Now, just a minute, Betty. Why, you double-crossing, two-timing chiseler. What kind of a sucker do you think you're playing me for? Oh, Betty, listen. You've got to listen. I didn't know. Honest. Honest. Claire only thought I did. Oh, Dad, that's not so. Oh, the lousy tricks. Hey, I'm getting out of here. Just a minute, please. Get out of my way, breaker, dick, or whatever your name is. Uh, Inspector, I don't see a pleasure. All right, lady, relax. Keep your hands off of you. If Betty wants to leave, she can. Says who? Oh, Mr. Drake, will you please explain what this is all about?

It's Judd's business if he wants to bring his... his girls to the house. Yes, but it's not Judd's business when there's a crime involved. A crime? What the devil are you talking about? In a minute, I'll explain, Graham. Tell me. Was it really the map you were looking for, or, uh...

This slip of paper... What slip of paper? Where did you get that? Your sister gave it to me. She had it in her purse ever since you copied it off and gave the story to the newspapers. But that's only the note that Uncle Howard wrote and placed in the sealed bottle. But, Judge... Do you want to tell her, Judge? Why, I... Naturally, you don't. But suppose you tell me why you pretended to this young lady that you'd been searching for the map. Or shall I tell you? Yeah. Yeah, you tell us, smart guy. Frankly, I... I can only guess.

Judd, are you in love with Betty? Well, I... Yes, I am. I thought so. Up until she read about your uncle's treasure map, Betty wouldn't marry you. Is that correct? That's none of your business. But I'm making it my business for a very definite reason, Judd.

When Betty read about the treasure map, she asked you to get it. She figured it would be worth considerable money. She threatened to break your engagement if you didn't get it. Now, look here, Drake, you can... I'm only guessing, Graham. You can deny my statements any time you like. Oh, what do you... Sure, you're right. I told Betty I'd get her the map. I... I didn't want to lose. But you never found the map, even though you knew where it was all the time. Instead, you kept searching for this note. Yes, that's right. But why, John? Why? I'll answer that, Miss Westling.

Judd knew the map was worthless. He knew there wasn't any treasure. He knew that unless he found and destroyed the note which your uncle allegedly wrote, someone would reveal the hoax and his girlfriend would lose interest. Hoax? What do you mean, hoax? I'm sorry, Miss Wesley. The man who told you he was your uncle was an imposter. He was never shipwrecked. In fact, I doubt if he was ever out of the city. Well, now, isn't that just dandy? So Uncle Howard made chumps out of a whole bunch of us, huh?

Well, okay, so we lose. Anyway, we're still alive and that's something. What do you mean we're still alive, miss? Well, we are, aren't we? And that old coot... Go on.

No. No, I wasn't going to say anything. On the contrary, you were going to say that that old coot was dead. I wasn't. I don't know what you're talking about. I'm afraid you do, miss. How did you know that Uncle Howard was dead? Well, I didn't. Say, you're not going to pin this on me. Let me out of here. You're not going to hear me. Hold her, Inspector. Don't worry. She won't get away. Relax, lady. You've got nothing to worry about. You're only under arrest for committing first-degree murder. No!

.

Yeah.

Too bad for him that the babe decided to come looking for the map herself Got caught and had to shoot good old Uncle Howard Yes, a pity, Inspector The thing is, Uncle Howard fooled everyone but Drake, eh? Hmm, you're quite wrong, Inspector Judd Graham wasn't fooled for a minute

Is that so? Very much so, Inspector. It was Judd, you know, who gave the story of the sealed note to the newspapers. Well? Well. When Judd copied off the note for him, he omitted one phrase. One phrase? Yes. What is it? He omitted the phrase that said, Whoever finds this, please have the authorities broadcast by radio my location as somewhere near 18 degrees south latitude and 175 degrees west longitude.

No such location, eh? No such thing as a radio 32 years ago, Inspector. Well, I'll be a cross-eyed goose. Say... Yes, Inspector? Where are you going? Well, if you'll pardon me, Inspector, I'm going to thank Claire. So, it's Claire again.

What do you want to see her for? I want to explain to her, Inspector, in a negative sort of way, that among other things, mystery is my hobby. THE END

Petri Wine brings you Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce in the new adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The Petri family, the family that took time to bring you good wine, invite you to listen to Dr. Watson tell us another exciting adventure he shared with his old friend, that master detective, Sherlock Holmes.

And I'd like to talk about an adventure myself. An adventure in good eating. It begins with a good wine. Petri California Sauternes. You just serve that Petri Sauternes the next time you have fried chicken. You like fried chicken? Cooked so it's crispy and a beautiful reddish gold color on the outside and just as tender as all get out on the inside. Now that's chicken. But when you try it with Petri Sauternes, that's a wine.

That Petri Sauternes is a pale, delicate golden color. You can just look at it and you know it's going to be one of the most delicious wines you've ever tasted. If not the most delicious. Petri Sauternes is not only wonderful with chicken, it's great with fish or any kind of seafood, too. Get a bottle of Petri Sauternes.

When it's a Petri wine, it's a good wine. And now I'm sure Dr. Watson's expecting us, so let's go in and join him. Come in, come in, come in. Ah, there you are, Mr. Bartell. Good evening, Doctor. Good evening. Drop your chair by the fire. That's it. The tobacco's in the jar beside you over there. Thanks.

Well, Doctor, all ready for tonight's new Sherlock Holmes adventure? Yes, Mr. Bartell, though on this occasion I'm going to tell the story a little differently. You see, I didn't take part in it myself, so I shall act as a narrator and recount the adventure as it was told me some years after it actually took place. Told you by Sherlock Holmes, I suppose. Yes, at the time the story happened, the whole world, including myself, believed that my old friend had been dead for three years.

What did he do with himself during those three years, Doctor? He wandered about the world, Persia, Egypt, the south of France, and two years of his time was spent in Tibet, where he disguised himself as a Norwegian explorer by the name of Sergasson, his object being to visit the forbidden city of Lhasa. The story began as Holmes stood on the outskirts of a tiny encampment, high in the Tibetan snows, disguised as a Norwegian Sergasson.

Surrounding him was an excited group of native guides, their fur-capped faces and shaggy sheepskin coats making them appear like strange wild animals as they stood there gesticulating wildly. The freezing wind whirled great clouds of snow away from the mountaintop that loomed above them, and Holmes told me that he felt a premonition of impending disaster. Sarge, my men will go no further.

They say the goddess of the mountain is angry.

If we climb further, she will swallow us up. She will bury us. But we cannot go back now. We have come so far, a thousand feet, eight hundred feet higher. We shall reach the pass. We shall be safe. I will not go. We can stay back there in the tents until the goddess of the mountain tells us we may go further. He is right. We can go. We don't want to go anymore. It's too... Fools! If you stay here in the wilderness, in the village...

Holmes was the only one who survived. He struggled up the pass that led to safety, the icy gale whipping round him in a frenzy. A few moments after he reached the top,

The avalanche occurred. The tents, the guides, and all their equipment were buried beneath hundreds of feet of hurtling, thundering snow. The way behind him was closed. He could only forge ahead. Alone, unaided, he descended the path that led to the plateau beyond. But the goddess of the mountain was still angry. Through the knifing wind and snow he battled on, without food and without, as he told me later, much hope. Even Holmes was helpless in that battle of man against the elements.

What happened in that 36 hours, he never really knew, except that the wind howled and the driving snow slashed at him without mercy. Finally, his mind began to wander, and he became delirious. Watson, dear boy, hand me my violin, will you? Moriarty, I want to introduce to you the goddess of the mountain. I think you will have a lot in common.

2-21B Baker Street, cabbie. If heaven's sake, get me there as fast as you can. I think I've caught a chill. Though his mind was wandering, his great strength combined with instinctive urge for self-preservation must have kept on his feet. But finally he returned to normal consciousness to find himself jogging along a rough road in a primitive cart drawn by two oxen. The sun shining on him and a white girl feeding him warm broth from a cup.

For a moment, the girl looked at him with a comforting smile. And then she spoke. No wonder you look puzzled, poor man. You can't make up your mind whether you're in this world or the next. Who are you? And how did I get here, please? My name is Eileen Farley. I'm a medical missionary. I found you wandering out of your mind two days ago. And I've taken you under my wing. We're going to the monastery of Panchapushpa. I'm most grateful to you, Miss Farley.

You have saved my life. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Sigurdsson, Olaf Sigurdsson. I'm a Norwegian explorer. Oh, no. No, your name is Sherlock Holmes, and you're a famous English detective. Please, I don't understand. Mr. Holmes, you've been delirious for the last two days. In your ravings, I was delighted to learn that great Sherlock Holmes did not die two years ago at the Reichenbach Falls. I can see that formulation is useless, my dear young lady. However...

I must implore you to keep my secret. It's essential that for a while longer the world continues to think me dead. You don't need to worry, Mr. Holmes. I'm a great admirer of yours, and I promise that no one will ever learn your secret from my lips. Try drinking a little more broth. You're dreadfully weak. Thank you, sir. Help me, please! Please, forgive me! Help! Another white man travels the road to Panchapushpa. Stop the cart! You need help? Stop! My own cart has broken the wheels.

You are going, perhaps, to the monastery of Pancha Pushpa? We are. Ah, good. Pyotr Dmitrievich Gorodzin, Imperial Russian Envoy, will travel with you. I'm pleased to make room. As possible. Remember my secret. The cart may proceed. Pony Mosh.

Your name, please, young lady. I'm Farley. I'm an American medical missionary. I do not approve of missionaries, but you are very beautiful. So Borodin will forgive you. Who is this magic lying on the floor? He looks half dead. I am half dead, Grosbodin Borodin.

My name is Sigurdsson. I am Norwegian. What is a Norwegian doing in Tibet? I have been exploring the mountains. And what, may I ask, is a Russian doing in Tibet, of course, for the emporium? What is a Russian doing? You shall see, my friend. To Holy Mother Russia shall belong Tibet. But now let us begin. We have some hours ahead of us.

You like vodka, Miss Violet? I'm afraid I don't drink. Borodin will teach you to drink. Then he will sing you songs of his native Russia. We shall be happy. Holmes told me that every note jar is aching weary head.

After a few hours, the strangely assorted trio arrived at the gates of the monastery. An edifice, as Holmes told me, of great antiquity and of breathtaking beauty, and built in the shadow of a giant mountain. He was fed and bathed, and shortly afterwards, he found himself together with his two companions in the presence of the head abbot himself, a man of great age and infinite wisdom. The faint chanting of religious music could be heard coming from another part of the monastery.

My dear Miss Farley, my dear gentlemen, I have welcomed you to the monastery, and yet each one of you has come to me separately and asked that he be given permission to go to the sacred city of Lhasa.

I cannot give that permission, my children. Borodjin has traveled a long way. For us, you will be most unhappy if he does not get the permission. I am an explorer, Reverend, sir. Will not that fact entitle me to some consideration? I, too, have traveled a great way, sir. My children, I realize your claims, but the permission is not in my power to grant. Tibet is ruled by our Chinese overlords. In any case, I will ask you to turn your heads.

The gentleman approaching us has preceded you in residence here. He also wishes to tread the road to Lhasa.

You have new visitors, I see. Yes, my son. Permit me to introduce you. Sir Harvey Forrester, Mrs. Miss Eileen Farley. How do you do? How do you do, Sir Harvey? Gospodine, Borodine, from Russia. How do you do? One cannot travel the world without meeting an Englishman. Good, we push you, Watson. And Mr. Olaf Sigurdsson from Norway. Good luck, Sir Harvey. How do you do? Please be seated.

My children, the Chinese ruler in this province has heard of your presence here. He has announced his intention of visiting you. Before he arrives, I should like to ask you each a question. Four of you, all from different countries, have traveled here to the mountains of Tibet. At this monastery, I can offer you refreshment, the opportunity of acquiring wisdom and peace.

What more do you seek in Lhasa? I shall ask you each that question in turn. You, Miss Farley, what do you seek? I seek the opportunity to bring both God and health to your Tibetan people. And you, Mr. Sigurdsson? I seek to chart the true course of your mountains.

and so to bring knowledge to the world. And you, Gaspardine Borodine? I seek to bring about complete understanding between the great peoples of Tibet and Russia. If I succeed, Tsar and his family may consider turning to Buddhism. Indeed.

And you, Sir Harvey, as representative of the British government, what do you seek? I shall not join in this contest of wishful thinking. I merely remind you, sir, that your government has signed a treaty with my... And was not that treaty forced upon us by our Chinese overlords? No, my children, you have advanced brave reasons, but I cannot help remembering that the streams of Tibet bear gold nuggets the size of hazelnuts.

You foreigners, in your pitiful ignorance, esteem gold. That signals the arrival of Watson.

The Chinese emissary. Your problems will be settled, my children. I will acquaint him with your request. Why are you smiling, Mr. Holmes? At the name of the Chinese overlord, Wat Sun. I must avoid falling into old habits and saying, Elementary, my dear Wat Sun. Shh, he's going to speak. Silence! Silence! The abbot has told me your wishes. I will hold conference. American lady and Norwegian will not be allowed...

Only Great Britain and Russia have treaties with my country. I insist that I have prior right over the Russian representative. Short voice, man. I represent the Tsar. And Russia is your neighbor. I demand my diplomatic privilege. Follow me. I will decide these things. Not you. I shall inform the British consul in Peking. This is an insult to the Tsar. Only Mother Russia will never... Well, Mr. Holmes, it looks as if you and I, at any rate, don't get to Lhasa. No. You look...

You look worried. Does the journey to Lhasa mean so much to you? It isn't that. I'm worried about the potential danger that hangs over this monastery. Violent forces are at work. What do you mean, Mr. Holmes? As you know, Miss Farley, I have some specialized acquaintance with these matters, and I tell you that I have rarely seen more clearly exemplified that emotional tension which leads to one thing. Murder. That is what I'm afraid of, young lady. Murder. That was what Holmes was afraid of.

Later that day, as the sun was setting over the mountaintop, the old abbot walked slowly in the monastery gardens as he talked to the man who he thought to be Sigurdsson. Mr. Sigurdsson, what can I do to help you? Our conversation has pleased me. You are a man of rare perception and knowledge. I grant you one worthy to enter, Lhasa, but I can offer no hope.

Mr. Waugh has already rejected the applications of both the Englishman and the Russian. He did that? He did, my son. He told me they were both very angry and threatened him. If anything were to happen to the Chinese emissary, would you have the right to grant permission for a journey to Lhasa? Yes, until the new envoy arrives to Pekin. But what are you suggesting, my son? This monastery is a haven of peace, a backwater far from the troubled stream of life.

No violence has ever occurred here. I hope it never will yet. The Chinese envoy was threatened, you say, Reverend Sir? Yes, my son. He has left the monastery, of course. No, those who come here even for a short visit must break bread with us and sleep at least one night.

Mr. Waugh is quartered in the cell you see before us. Then do you mind if we call on him, Reverend, sir? Of course not, my son, though you will not waste your breath in talking to him. He will not give you permission to take the road to Lhasa. He sleeps, my son. Let us not disturb him. If you don't mind, Reverend, sir, I must waken him, if he can be wakened. The End

What can be wrong? I think I know. I'm going in. There is your answer, Reverend, sir. He is dead? Yes, sir. Strangled with his own cue. The poor misguided man has taken his own life, my son. No, sir. Look at those marks on his shoulder. He has been murdered. But what are we to do?

As it happens, Reverend, sir, I have a certain amount of experience with these matters in my own country. If I were to produce the murderer for you with certain proof of his guilt, would you authorize my going to Lhasa? Yes, since for a few days that mission is mine to give, I will grant it. You fill me with a strange confidence, but how will you find this taker of life? I can't tell you now, sir, but I shall find him.

All that I require is a little assistance from you, sir. Of course. What is it? Let us both leave this cell, post guard here, and give him strict orders that no one is to enter unless accompanied by me. Very well. But, my son, where are you going? Before very long, sir. I hope to be on my way to Lhasa. Lhasa

Dr. Watson will tell us the rest of his story immediately, so I'll just take a second to remind you that hamburgers, yep, hamburgers, are practically an all-American food. We all love a good hamburger, but wait till you taste a juicy hamburger together with a glass of Petri California Burgundy. Boy, that Petri Burgundy is a hearty red wine that's just the best friend a hamburger or steak or any kind of meat dish ever had.

So remember, if you want a red wine for dinner, you want Petri Burgundy. If you prefer a white wine, you want Petri Sauternes. And if you can't make up your mind which you want, it's simple. Don't buy one, buy two. But always buy Petri. P-E-T-R-I. Petri.

Dr. Watson, it seems to me that Sherlock Holmes was in a tough spot. There he was, thousands of miles from England, a murderer was running loose, Holmes was in disguise, and he hadn't got you to help him in the case. Oh, thank you, Mr. Bartell. I must say, I think that I always was useful to my old friend, but I wasn't there. So this time he enlisted the services of Eileen Farley, the American girl. Immediately after he'd left the cell of the murdered man, he'd gone to Miss Farley and told her of the tragedy.

As I returned to the scene of the crime, he found that his instructions had been carried out and that a guard was barring the entrance to the dead man's cell. There's a guard in front of the cell. My instructions. Abbott gave you your orders? Yes. You may go in. Please close the door behind us.

I'll show you how to do this, Miss Farley. It's not a pretty sight. I've seen sudden death before, Mr. Holmes. In any case, I would dare appear frightened. I'm so flattered that you asked me to help you. You were the only one who knew my true identity. That's why I suggested that you take my old friend's place. I need... What shall I say? I needed a sounding board for my deductions. Wait a minute. Here. I'd like a match. There we are. Now, here's a candle. Oh! I warned you it wasn't a pretty sight. Hold the candle, will you please, Miss Farley? Thank you.

This isn't hard to reconstruct. The killer stood behind his victim, held him by the left shoulder. So, he wound his cue around his neck and pulled back. Yes, yes. The marks are self-evident. Hello? Hello?

What's this on the floor? A speed. A cigarette. Dropped as it was burning, I should think. And now it's nothing but ash. Exactly, ash. Now, which of the visitors at the monastery smoke cigarettes? Yourself, the Russian, and Sir Harvey, the Englishman. I think we may justifiably omit myself from the list of suspects, so that narrows us down to two. Look, Miss Farley. What is it?

There are clear traces here to the naked eye, not only of tobacco ash and paper, but of cardboard. But what does that signify, Mr. Holmes? The case is nearly solved. Come on, young lady. We must pay a visit to Borodin's cell at once. The End

Arguments. Always, Sir Harvey Forrester, you give me the arguments. But, my dear Borodin... I am not your dear Borodin. I'm Pyotr Dmitrovich Borodin, ambassador of Holy Mother Russia. I'm no friend of yours. Come in, come in, come in. Ah, the missionary girl and the sick Norwegian. Come in. We will drink vodka.

And I will sing Russian songs for you. We haven't come here to listen to songs. The Chinese envoy was murdered tonight. So we have been told, my dear. Sir Harvey and I are very happy because of his death, are we not? Well, I won't pretend I'm heartbroken. What is it, Norwegian? You were in the cell tonight at the time of the murder. That's a lie. I can prove it. In that cell I just found ashes of totally burned cigarette ashes that included fragments of cardboard.

Only a Russian cigarette has a cardboard mouthpiece. What you can or cannot prove is of no interest to me, Sigurdsson. He's very obstinate tonight, Sigurdsson. We've just been having a political argument. Couldn't agree on a single point, except on the danger of the common man. He was telling me of the most extraordinary revolution in his estates. Do you know they chop off one of his hands? Your hand already didn't quit.

Which one? As God was merciful, my left hand. The one beneath your glove? Is made of wax, my good Norwegian. Is made of wax.

Mercy for yourself? Extraordinary. It's more than that. It is conclusive proof. What do you mean, Mr. Seagulls? I cannot tell you now. I must leave you here. Let me warn you. The three of you will be well advised to keep an eye on each other. Meanwhile, I must see the abbot. Why, Mr. Seagulls? Because now I know who murdered Batsun. Batsun.

The pink fingers of dawn are stealing across the mountain top, my son. Soon you will be on your way to Lhasa. Yes, Reverend, sir. You have kept your promise. You kept yours, Mr. Sigurdsson. The Chinese soldiers have arrived and the taker of life has been given into their custody. Before you leave, my son...

I want you to do something for me. Anything, Reverend, sir. What is it? The hood figure in the corner is that of the monastery scribe. He keeps our annals. I want you to explain for our records how you knew which one of the three was the taker of life. It was not difficult, sir. The killer had gripped Warton's shoulder with the left hand while the right was used to strangle him.

Therefore, the Russian Borodin could not be the killer since his left hand was artificial. Quite so. It was, as you told me, made of wax. Then... But the clue of the cigarette pointed directly to the Russian.

Therefore, it had obviously been planted there deliberately to incriminate him. Now, there is no trained police force in Tibet. We need no police. There is no crime here, my son. But continue. Why should the cigarette be planted to incriminate the Russian? Unless there was someone capable of making the deduction from a handful of cigarette ash. Therefore, the murderer was the one person who knew my true identity.

Miss Eileen Farley, a supposed missionary. No missionary, as it transpired when she confessed. And no American. No, a secret service agent of German origin, seeking to reach Lhasa before the Russians, and infuriated by Watson's denial of passage. Any secret services that are off without such employees. She will pay for her mortal sins. May she redeem herself in her next place on the wheel. My son. Yes, Reverend Sir. You are about to leave me.

And I shall never see you again. Though evil and death came to Panchapushpa and to my monastery in the caravan that brought you here, I shall miss you, my son. I shall miss you greatly. And I you, Reverend Sir. Would you consider staying here? I can only offer you peace, a shelter from the outside world, and quiet companionship. Three great gifts from you.

But I cannot take them. My work is not done. I must go on. Of course, my son. It was an old man's dream. One last question. What is it, sir? You spoke of your true identity just now. Who are you, my son? Reverend sir, I cannot tell even you the answer to that question. One day, perhaps, but not now. Let us just say that I have wandered through a world of trouble...

just as you have remained tranquil in a world of peace. I hope, sir, that we shall meet again. I hope so, too. Goodbye, my son. Goodbye, Reverend, sir. Goodbye.

Doctor, that was really an unusual story. You told it so well, I felt you were actually a part of it. No, my boys, I said the story was told to me by Holmes. I've never been to Tibet. Been to India, of course. I never really wanted to go to Tibet. Horrible mountains, terrible weather, lots of bandits on the roads. Dangerous place. Doctor, you're not afraid of danger, are you? Ten years ago, Mr. Bartell, a question like that would be an insult.

Today I realize that all of us, unless we're stupid, have some fear of danger. I would say that I'm definitely not a coward, nor am I a thrill seeker, but I'm done with searching for something new. Me too, Doctor. I'm through searching for something new also.

Now that I've found Petri wine, I'm going to stick to it. Mr. Bartell, no matter what we talk about, when you say it, it always sounds like Petri wine. Well, why not? I can't think of a more delicious wine. And no wonder. The Petri family has been making the fine Petri wines for generations. Ever since the 1800s, they've handed on down from father to son, from father to son, the fine art of turning luscious, sun-ripened grapes into fragrant, delicious wines.

And because the making of Petri wine is a family affair, you can rest assured that the Petri family takes pride in doing a good job. They won't put that name Petri on any wine that isn't up to the high Petri standard. Yes, if it's Petri wine, you know it's good wine. Because Petri took time to bring you good wine.

Well, Dr. Watson, what new Sherlock Holmes adventure do you plan to tell us next week? Well, now, next week, Mr. Bartell, I'm going to tell you a story that started off in a very light-hearted way and ended on the same note. And yet it involved Sherlock Holmes and myself in serious danger and caused us intense humiliation. I call it...

The adventure of the pigeon feathers. Sounds swell, Doctor. Oh, thank you, thank you very much. And before you go, I want to remind the families of our returned veterans that their sons are more than heroes. They not only fought bravely, but in the armed forces they acquired new skills, learned or bettered themselves in some trade or furthered their education. Our men have returned with a new maturity and a new wisdom.

They'll be more valuable to past or to future employers and more valuable to their country. The greatest assets America has at this moment are her veterans. Remember that. Good night. Tonight's Sherlock Holmes adventure was written by Dennis Green and Anthony Boucher and was suggested by incident in the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle story, The Adventure of the Empty House.

Music is by Dean Foster.

Mr. Rathbone appears through the courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and Mr. Bruce through the courtesy of Universal Pictures. We're now starring in the Sherlock Holmes series. The Petri Wine Company of San Francisco, California invites you to tune in again next week, same time, same station. Sherlock Holmes comes to you from our Hollywood studios.

This is Harry Bartell saying goodnight for the Petri family. For a solid hour of exciting mystery dramas, listen every Monday night on most of these same stations at 8 o'clock to Michael Shane, followed immediately by Sherlock Holmes. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System. The sight of old battlefields invariably evokes in our mind's eye a vision of the men who fought on them in a former day.

But all this, we insist, is merely an association of ideas. And we continue to insist, even though there is on record an authentic story which goes far to prove us wrong. It was on Saturday night, November 5th, 1932, that Tom Horner drove with his friend Arthur Wright from Philae to Harrogate's.

I'll wager you aren't even aware that we're right in the middle of Marston Moor, are you, Tom? Marston Moor? Didn't some battle or other take place there? One of the greatest battles of all time. It's where Cromwell's men defeated King Charles' army in 1644. Right where we're driving, along this road. Though, of course, the road itself probably wasn't... Oh, watch out, old boy. Another car coming toward us.

A bus of some kind. Just as the two vehicles were about to pass each other, Wright gasped. Tom, look out! Those men! Suddenly, two men had appeared, walking down the center of the highway, just a few feet in front of the car. I say, Tom, they've got long hair. And they're wearing hats with cockades in them. And cloaks.

In boots. They must be going to a masquerade party of some sort. Well, wherever they're going, I wish they'd get a move on. There isn't room to pass them. The two strange figures paid no attention to Tom Horner's signal. Instead, they trudged slowly down the middle of the road. And Tom had no choice but to creep on behind them. For on one side of him, the bus was passing now. And on the other, a high hedge marked the edge of the road.

When the bus had passed, Tom switched on his bright light. Now we can see what those chaps really look like. I couldn't tell whether... Hello? What happened to them? The two figures had disappeared. Baffled and incredulous, Horner stopped the car. He and Wright climbed out and peered up and down the road. They walked back several yards in the darkness. But they couldn't have got off the road.

No one could jump those hedges or even get through them. At least not in two seconds. Well, perhaps, Tom, perhaps there weren't any men. We must have imagined it. How could we both of us imagine the same thing? I don't know. It's possible, I suppose. We were both talking about Marston Moore, about this being a battlefield. By George, those men were dressed like soldiers. Like soldiers from Cromwell's army. Come to think of it, they were, weren't they? Bill, I don't see... I know, but it doesn't make sense.

But it's the only logical answer. There simply weren't any men. Hello there! The voice came to them through the mist and darkness. Horner turned quickly and saw a man approaching. Hello! Who are you? I'm the bus driver. Just passed you back there on the road. You didn't happen to see a couple of queer-looking blokes with long hair? They were walking down the middle of the road half a minute ago. Sir?

And so Tom Horner and Arthur Wright knew that they had not imagined the strange figures. For now a third witness had testified to their reality. Here on Marston Moor, almost 300 years after the most famous battle of the Great Rebellion, two men, dressed like soldiers in the Parliamentary Army, had appeared for a moment and then vanished. If we deny that they were stragglers out of the remote past, out of the days of Cromwell and King Charles, then how shall we explain this remarkable vision?

A vision incredible but true. Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup present Inner Sanctum Mysteries, starring Boris Karloff. Good evening, friends of the Inner Sanctum.

This is your host, to welcome you through the squeaking door into the land of ghosts, vampires, and other gay, hilarious people. Friends, are you looking for an apartment? Well, we have just the place for you. It's sturdily built, completely of marble, with cold, running water every time it rains. You don't have to worry about the landlord putting you out. The lease is forever. Forever.

All you have to do to get this little love nest is call your undertaker and get yourself a little bit dead. Mr. Host, I assure you, no one is the least bit interested in your offer. But Mary, just think. Once you're dead, you can appear on Inner Sanctum. You know, we always have a ghost in our story. Someone whose voice comes back from the grave and gives advice to our characters. Sometimes I think our theme song should be, My Mummy Done Told Me.

Why, that's very funny. But you know, Mr. Host, talking about voices coming back, that's what happened to me the other day. I heard my own voice coming back to me on the radio while I was eating breakfast. No. Yes. Yes.

I just heard the new Lipton jingle, and then I heard myself. Yes, there I was, talking about inner sanctum and about Lipton tea, too. You see, it was a record, an electrical transcription that I'd made, all about Lipton's brisk flavor, how Lipton's always tastes fresh and full-bodied, never wishy-washy.

And you know what? There was a man on the record who talked almost like you, Mr. Host. An imposter. I'll kill him. Oh, it was just in fun. He made spooky remarks when I talked about Lipton tea. But I did get a chance to say that Lipton's is the largest selling brand of tea in the whole world. All right, Mary, you've had your chance. And I'll make room for the creepiest voice you ever heard. The curdling kid himself, the star of stage, screen, and radio, Boris Karloff.

Tonight's story is called The Wailing Wall. It's an original radio play by Milton Lewis. You'll hear Boris Karloff in the role of Gabriel Hornell. All set, friend? Then turn out the lights, curdle close to the fire, and listen. Night. On the waterfront of downtown Manhattan, the fog creeps in like a crawling cloud. Tucked in between the towering skyscrapers, there's an old run-down mansion. An anachronism. A freak among the streamlined giants.

It's the Hornell home. And tonight, leaping tongues of flame from behind the black shutters. That is Johnny. Is there anybody in that old dump? They say an old guy lives here, don't they? Cabral Hornell. I hope he had sense enough to get out. That place is like a tinderbox. Yeah, pretty well gone.

Get that horse. Hey, there is someone in there. Get the action. Come on. They're right behind you. What? Get out of the way. Hurry, will you? Knocks it off. All right, come on in. You see anyone in there? No, we can't stay. Hey, there he is. Oh, the crazy cootie didn't even have sense enough to get out. Here.

Grab his shoulders. Yeah. Don't hold me. We're just taking you out. I don't want to go out. We ain't asking you what you want. Come on, Johnny. Before this joint collapses. Take me out. I can't leave the house. Good evening, Mr. Hornell. I hope you're feeling... Oh, Mr. Hornell. Mr. Hornell. The head nurse. And Harry...

Hello? Hello, this is Nurse Hopkins on the 18th floor. Gabriel Harnell is not in his room. The window is open from the bottom. Yes, I'm sure he did. There's a letter. I know, but I'm sure he's not alive. Oh, the letter? Yes, I'll read it to you. To whom it may concern... By the time you read this, I shall be dead. There can be no mistake this time. Death holds no fear, no terror any greater than what I've endured in life.

For the past 40 years, I've searched for freedom. I hope now I've found it. Even now, as I write, I can hear her voice calling to me as she did that night years ago. I'd prepared everything while she was in bed. Just the last few minute little details had to be completed. Gabriel, Gabriel, do you hear me?

What do you want? What are you doing down there? I'm... I'm fixing something. Well, why don't you come up? I don't want to be alone here. I can't bear to be alone. Come up, Gabriel. Why don't you answer me? Oh, you're just doing it for spite. I know you... Stop that hammering, Gabriel. No, I can't bear that noise. Now, stop it, please. Gabriel, will you stop that noise? Oh, you came down. Well, of course I came down. Did you expect me to lie there while all this racket was going on? Now, you know I'm a sick woman, Gabriel. You know I'm a sick woman.

you doing there anyhow? You can see. Well, yes, I can see, but it doesn't make any sense to me. Oh, you've made a huge gaping hole in the wall. Now, what on earth did you want to do a thing like that for? You'll find out soon enough. And what are all those things? Stonemason's tools, cement, plaster. Well, I never dreamed you knew how to use them. Oh, I'm going back to bed. No, Agnes. No? No. Gabriel,

That rope in your hands. Yes. I've thought carefully about this rope, Agnes. It's the most merciful way. It leaves a little trace since there's no blood. Gabriel! You won't make it difficult, will you, Agnes? Murder! It's the only way. No, Gabriel! We couldn't go on like this. Your imaginary illnesses, your constant nagging...

I have to be free of them, Agnes. But murder... This is best for both of us. No, Gabriel. Send me away. Do anything you want. You can get a divorce. A divorce there, see? That would solve everything. You could have your freedom. Stand there, Agnes. Just as you are. I know. That other woman, Dorothy Carter, that actress. That's why you're doing this. Oh, you thought I didn't know about that, Gabriel. Well, I do. Yes, I do. No. No, let go of me. That rope.

Help me, somebody! It will be done in a minute. Done? Oh, you'll never be free of me as long as you live. The cat saw everything with its yellow eye. The cat saw me take her body to the tomb I'd made in the wall. The cat saw me place her there and carefully seal it up. Oh!

I worked quickly, skillfully, with infinite care. First the bricks, one on top of the other, then the plaster, then the wallpaper to match the rest of the room. That wasn't very difficult. In a short time, it was done. I was free. All I had to do now was to go to the police and report her missing. It was even simpler than I thought. I put on the coat. I was about to open the front door when I heard it for the first time.

I thought it must be my imagination. I listened carefully. A rush to the wall put my ear to it. What I heard made icy perspiration ooze out of every pore of my body. The whale was coming from the wall. It was like the insane shriek of some creature of another world. Was she alive in there? She couldn't be. She was dead. I knew she was dead. Yet I heard her voice wailing. I could swear it was her voice.

I couldn't go out as I'd planned. What if someone else should hear it? Would they go to the wall? Investigate? The doorbell? Oh, it couldn't be at this hour. It couldn't be, but... But it was. Oh, boy. I had to risk everything and answer it. I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Hornell. It was patrolman Cleary. He was the officer on the beat. He was blue with cold. I was passing by and I saw the lights on. I peeked in the window. You...

You looked in? Yes. Since you were still up, I thought I'd ring. It's a bit of cold out tonight, and I'd like to warm these old bones for a minute. Oh, yes. Yes, of course, Cleary. Don't stand there in the door, man. Come in. Come in. Thank you. I see you've got your coat on, Mr. O'Neill. Just got in? Only a few moments ago. As a matter of fact, I was going to see you. See me? Why, yes. It's about my wife.

Is something wrong? I hope not. I was out all evening. When I got home, she was gone. It's not like her, Mr. O'Neill. No, it isn't. Was she alone all evening? Yes, at least I think she was. You know, she hasn't been feeling very well lately, and I hate to think it possible, but she may have destroyed herself. Mrs. O'Neill? No, she wasn't the sort... Oh, she was ill, terribly ill.

I tried to keep it secret until she recovered. But the doctors knew. Insane. Yes. Don't you see the river? I'd better get back to the precinct and report this. You'd better come with me. Missing persons bureau will... Hey, Mr. O'Neill. Yes? You must be mistaken. Isn't that her? That... that isn't a woman. Of course it is. Coming from that room there.

Sure, it's your wife. I know her voice and she sounds like she's in pain. It can't be. There's no one in that room. She must have come in the back way. Come, I'll show you. No, don't go in. What? Nothing. Well, you can see for yourself there's no one here. No one? I swore your wife was in this room. Well, how'd you like to live in a house with wailing walls?

Well, one thing you have to admit, things aren't so very dead in the Hornell Mansion. Or are they? Well, all I can say is I'm glad I don't have to live in that house with that awful wailing. Why, Mary, there's a wailing, whistling kind of noise in your house, too. The first time I heard it, I was so scared I shivered in my shroud. Oh, you're talking about my whistling tea kettle. Oh, goodness, there's nothing scary about that.

Now, if you'd only try Lipton tea with its wonderful brisk flavor, that whistle would sound as cheery to you as birds whistling in the morning, especially on these chilly mornings when a cup of Lipton's just makes you feel like the sun was shining inside of you.

And folks, if you want a sunny disposition, you should try relaxing with a cup of Lipton tea after a hard job like, well, maybe washing out your window curtains. Yes, and what's more, you can help your friends feel right with the world, too, by serving them Lipton tea when they come to visit you. Lipton's always tastes so tangy and heartwarming, never flat or wishy-washy.

Yes, that brisk flavor makes all the difference in the world. All right, friends, we've given you a chance to warm your blood. Now we fondly hope to turn it to ice again with the help of our star, Boris Karloff. Oh, let's hear the second act of Inner Sanctum. We continue with the strange letter left by Gabriel Hornell.

Cleary watched in silent fascination as the cat screamed and leaped against the wall. Would he notice the new wallpaper in the dim light? Suddenly, the policeman turned to me. Yes, I guess that noise is only the wind. Strange how like a wailing woman it can sound, isn't it? Yes. Well, I'll be leaving now. I guess it'll be all right for you to stay here. I'll make a report at headquarters about your wife. It's very good of you, Cleary.

She turns up, you let us know? Yes, I'll let you know. Good night, Mr. O'Neill. Good night. He left. I locked the door and came back to the room. The room where my wife was entombed. Was she still alive inside the hollow of that wall? I listened all that night. The wailing rose to a high, insane shriek. And then towards morning, it began to grow weaker, as though she were losing strength and seemed to die.

The cat crept away. There was a merciful silence in the house. She was dead. She had to be by now. I sat down onto the sofa into a feverish sleep. Somewhere a bell was tolling, calling the mourners to the grave. Suddenly I sat bolt upright, shaking, trembling. I had been dreaming.

The front doorbell was ringing. It was night again. How long had I slept? The house was silent. Oh, there was nothing to fear now. I ran to the door, opened it. Hiya, kiddo. Dorothy. Well, are you going to keep me out here in the cold? No, no. Come in. Come in. I haven't been... I haven't been feeling well, Dorothy. Is that why you forgot our date tonight? I must have overslept. What time is it? Ten o'clock. Ten o'clock?

I must have slept clear through the day. Well, aren't you glad to see me? Glad? Why, yes. It's a delightful surprise. That's more like you. Come here, kiddo. You've got the blues, but Dorothy will wipe them away. Give us a kiss. What's that? Just the wind. Oh, no, it can't be the wind. This is a very old house, Dorothy. You sometimes hear strange noises. Oh, I've never heard anything like that before.

Sounds human. Oh. She's still alive. Even after 24 hours, suddenly I realized that the doorbell was ringing again. There was a large pair of wooden sliding panel doors between the room that we were in and the vestibule that led to the street. I wasn't going to take any more chances. There's someone at the door, Gabe. Yes.

You wait here, Dorothy. What are you doing? Closing these doors. Why? I'd advise you not to ask too many questions. Evening, Mr. O'Neill. Officer Cleary, who are those men with you? Hey, I've got something to show you, Mr. O'Neill. You'd better brace yourself. It's not going to be pleasant. All right, bring it in, boys. You can put it over there. What? What is it? It's a body. A woman. Just fished out of the river right near here.

She can't be dead more than 24 hours. My wife? That's hard to say. You see, the body got caught in the propeller of a boat. It's not easy to recognize it. Unless it was examined by someone who knew her very well. Like yourself, of course. Let me see it. Take away the burlap. Look, Miss Dunya. I know. It's pretty bad. Is... is it your wife? Agnes? Yes. Yes, of course. It's... it's her. You're sure now? Yes, I... I'm sure.

All right, boys. Take it away. You can stay here, Mr. Arnett. I'll take care of everything down at headquarters. Good night. Good night, Cleary. Luck, fate, whatever it is that seemed to control men's lives was playing directly into my hands. They'd never investigate now. The nightmare was over. This time I was really free. Suddenly, panel door opened.

Dorothy was standing there, a curious smile on her lips. I heard everything, kiddo. You did? So you were married. No longer, Dorothy. My wife died. Suicide. So I heard. Now everything will be quite all right and we can get married in a few weeks. We'll have money, lots of money. She left you plenty, eh? She was very wealthy. What's the matter? Nothing. Nothing? Nothing.

I see what happens to your face when you hear that wail. Did you kill her? What are you talking about? Did you murder her? You heard what he said. She was found in the river. You can fool a dumb copper, but you can't fool Dorothy. That wail. It's queer. Awful queer. Look at what that cat's doing, will you? Jumping up on that wall like it's gone crazy.

Yes, there's something about that wall. That's what the cat's trying to tell me. Something about the wall. You better stay away from there, Dorothy. I'm going to find out something, Ariane. Yeah, put that bookend down. Not till I'm done with it, kiddo. What are you doing there? I'm going to break through that wall. You crazy fool, stop it. No. Give me that thing. You're too late, Gabe. I've broken a hole through and I'm going to look. Now you've seen. Is it the hand? The hand of a woman? Yes.

It's her. Your wife. Yes, Dorothy. You murdered her. Yes. Well, ain't you the kid? What are you going to do about it? What do you think? I want money. Lots of... That rope. Yes. This rope. It leaves no telltale traces. Oh, no, no, kiddo. Didn't you get it? It was all a joke.

No, don't come any closer. Don't scream, Dorothy. It won't do you any good. Gabe, listen to me. I don't want a cent. Not one penny. I love you. I love you, I tell you. I'll keep your secret. I'll do anything you want. Anything. That rope. Take it away from my neck. Don't give in the name of heaven. Don't. Don't break. She was dead. I took her body, put it in an old trunk in the storeroom of the cellar. I had to think of some plan, some way to get rid of those bodies.

In my confusion, there was only one thing that I was certain of. I must never leave the house. Not even for a minute. I never did. At nights, I would sit there, listening. Then it would come. The whale in the wall. I knew that after a week, she couldn't be alive. What made the whale? Plants? I thought of a thousand plants. But all of them would mean that I had to leave the house. And if I left...

Someone would hear the wail and find out, just as Dorothy did. Yes, fire. That would do it. The idea danced like a flame in my mind. No, no. They discovered charred bones of the skeletons among the wreckage. No, it wouldn't be worth it. The only way I could be safe was to stay there in the house. I stayed. I, who had risked everything for freedom.

One day, the doorbell tickled. I opened it. Mr. Harnell? Yes? I'm Mr. Crawford from the bank. May I come in? Just in here, in the vestibule. We've written to you a dozen times, but you've never replied. What do you want? Well, Mr. Harnell, you may not realize it, but you've overdrawn your account. The money your wife left is gone. Gone? So short a time? So short? Yes.

My sheep died 40 years ago. 40 seems only yesterday. We've been investigating. Even the grocer who used to supply your food no longer will extend you credit. What do you want with me? I'm not starving. If you'd see your face, you'd realize that you are, Mr. Hornell. Now, if you'll only be reasonable, we can see to it that you get $250,000. A quarter of a million? How? By selling this house, it's become very valuable. No. You get out of here. Get out. But, Mr. Hornell. Get out! Get out!

Very well. He was right. I was starving. That night, when I heard the wailing begin again, I came to a decision. I had spent 40 years in the house. More punishment than criminals receive who've committed even worse crimes than mine. I'd take a chance. I opened the wall I'd sealed up 40 years ago. She... she was still there.

But the wailing continued. Why? Why? I looked into the tomb I'd made for her and then I saw it. I saw this thing that had ruined my life. It was a tiny hole in the outside wall that I'd made when I first broke it open. The wind rushed through and made that horrible wail. What was the use?

I took a match out of my pocket. I set its flame to the curtains. In a moment, the place would be an inferno. I decided to stay. I wanted to perish with the house. In death, at least, I did. But even then, freedom was denied me. They rescued me, brought me to this hospital. I had the nurse make inquiries from the police.

She told me. No, there was nothing unusual found among the ashes. Everything was burned to a fine powder. If... If I had only set fire to the house 40 years ago. But no matter. The window is open. And it's 18 stories to the ground. I will soon be free.

Oh! Everybody's dead but the cat. We overlooked him because we couldn't find him. Of course, I'm sorry that that wall made such an unpleasant noise, such a tuneless wailing.

We tried to teach her to whistle the new Lipton tea jingle, but we didn't have time, eh, Mary? Now, you just stop teasing me, because I'm not going to talk about the Lipton jingle now. No, and I'm not going to talk about Lipton tea either. Instead, the Lipton people want me to remind you folks about something important. I mean the Victory Loan Drive. You know, friends, we've been buying bonds for many years now. But this drive is in some ways the most important, because if a job is worth doing, then it's worth finishing.

The bonds you buy now won't buy weapons. No, this time the money will help bring our boys home. It will also help take care of our wounded soldiers, provide them with the finest medical care in the world. And, friends, we can certainly do no less. And the victory bonds you buy now will help launch our veterans into a safe and secure post-war world, the kind of world they've been fighting for.

Yes, you're helping others and yourself, too, every time you buy a victory bond. So buy all you can, won't you? All right, friends. Until we meet at some haunted house, here's a parting thought. Don't seal your wife in the wall. That won't keep her quiet. Hehehehe.

Oh, by the way, this month's Inner Sanctum mystery novel is Devil in the Bush by Matthew Head. Yes, and next week's Inner Sanctum story, directed by Hyman Brown and brought to you by Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup. Next week's story is about a man who gets hunches. His hunches are about death. He's sure he's going to be killed. Not by poison or fire or strangling. Nothing simple like that.

Now, our character has a nice, interesting death waiting for him. Oh, if you'd like to be in at the death, drop in next Tuesday. And now it's time to close the squeaking door, so good night. Pleasant dreams.

Folks, the colder it gets, the more we all enjoy a good hot plate of soup. And for soup with a fresh, home-cooked taste, you can't beat Lipton's Noodle Soup. Yes, Lipton's is blessed with a real chickeny flavor, and it's just swimming with tender golden egg noodles. But listen, Lipton Noodle Soup takes almost no time at all to prepare. And Lipton's is economical, too. Costs less and makes lots more than canned soups.

So don't forget to try Lipton's Noodle Soup. And don't forget to tune in next Tuesday night for another Inner Sanctum Mystery. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Every door has a key.

There's a key to every situation. Behind every unopened door, there is a mystery. And the opening of this door introduces us to another in the series, the key. Janie!

Gee, you scared me, Mama, coming in like that, so quietly. Now, what are you doing? Just reading, that's all. I might have saved myself the question. When aren't you reading? But you put that paper away now and you get ready, and I won't tell you again. This is three times now I've called. All right, Mama. I'll be ready in time. Next thing you know, you'll have missed the bus and you'll have Grandma standing out there in the sun waiting to meet you. But you won't be there on time.

She'll have to wait for the next bus then, and she's too old to be standing out in the sun for hours on end, just waiting for you to turn up. I've just got to change my dress. Well, change it. Get a move on. Grandma won't ask you over for the weekend anymore if you... Janie, don't just stand there looking at me. Now give me that paper and get your other dress. You've been reading anyway. Just about, Beryl.

Holly found it? I told you you weren't to read about Beryl. You weren't to talk about her. You're too young to... Now look, if I catch you reading any more of these newspaper stories about Beryl, I'll be after you with a hairbrush. He did some dreadful things to her, didn't he? The man who took her away... Now stop it! Remember, another word about Beryl or any more looking at newspapers and you'll be sorry. I'll expect you downstairs in five minutes. Oh, that poor little Beryl. Such a pretty kid. Just like Janie.

Oh, that poor woman's seeing a child. I hope they catch that man soon and put him in the electric chair. Five minutes, Janie. No longer. Well, let's see now. Handkerchiefs. Where are your hankies, Janie? Underneath the other thing. Well, I can't... Oh, yes, here they are. Socks. Mm-hmm.

Oh, yes, that looks all right. Now, show me where you put your money. Here. This pocket. Well, don't forget to keep it in that one. And keep it in the purse, too. You'll lose it otherwise. Yes, Mama. Good. Now, what do you tell Grandma?

Mama, sorry she couldn't come with me, Grandma, but Daddy suddenly got the flu and I had to go to bed and she can't leave him. Have you said goodbye to Daddy? Yeah, on my way downstairs. You didn't go right into the room, did you? You just stood at the door? Yeah, Mama. Yes, well, I don't want you going down with the flu as well as Daddy. He's enough to look after.

Now, what else do you tell Grandma? You'll see her next week sometime. And will she pop me on the bus about three Sunday afternoon... so I can get home while it's still light? And will she ask the conductor to keep an eye on me? All right. Now, you see, you keep that dress clean...

They're very nice in it. And if you look after it properly, well, I'll get you another one at the end of the month. Yes, ma'am. Mm-hmm. Oh, well, have a good time and don't be any trouble to Grandma. No. And don't forget, no talking to strangers on the bus. If anyone tries to talk to you anywhere, you tell them to go away or you'll call a policeman. Yes, ma'am. Will you come down to the bus stop with me? How many more times do I have to tell you I can't leave Daddy? Daddy!

There's no need to be scared about going to the bus stop by yourself. Just don't talk to anyone and you'll be all right. But, Belle... Now, that's enough. But, anybody think you're still a baby? You remember all I've said and you won't get into any trouble. Yes, Mom. Oh, there's your father calling now, and I'll have to go to him. You get off then and give Grandma my love and I'll see you on Sunday. Yes, Sunday. Hello, Janie.

What are you doing, propping up the bus pole? Hello, Mr. Blake. I'm just waiting for the bus. I'm going over to my grandma's for the weekend. Oh. Well, you'll have to wait a while for that bus. I just passed it back there. It's broken down. I'll have to be another one along sometime, I guess. Where does your grandma live, honey? Harborside. 16 Lavender Street. Oh, Lavender Street, Mr. Blake. I sure do. Look, I tell you what. I have to go through Harborside. Hop in, I'll give you a lift.

Goodness knows how long they'll take with a bus. All right, then. Yeah, it's too hot to be standing there. Got your swimsuit to have a dip? There's a good pool over there on the other side. Yes. Grandma will be taking me down there this afternoon. You're lucky. I wish I could go somewhere for a swim today. Why can't you? I've got to make a long trip right away from the water. Whereabouts are you going? Beckerwood. Beckerwood?

That's where they found Beryl Garland, wasn't it? Yeah, I believe they did find her there. What's Beckerwood like? Have you been there before? Uh-huh. Quite a few times. It's a nice place. Plenty of trees. Not many people are out. I like Beckerwood. I think maybe I'll build a place there sometime. I wish we could build a place somewhere. We haven't got enough money. Oh. I hear your father's home from work, Janie. Uh-huh.

What's wrong with him? Hello. You don't seem very worried about him. He'll be all right. Mama's looking after him. She runs around doing everything for him. Do you like my mother and father, Mr. Blake? Now, that's a funny question. Do you, though? Yeah, of course I do. I think they're both very nice. And you know what? What? I think they're very lucky to have a little girl as nice as you. I wish I had a daughter like you. You can't until you get married, can you? No.

But I hope when I do get married and have a child, it'll be a girl and she'll look as pretty as you do. Thank you, Mr. Blay. I don't like my mother and father much. What? Janie, what a dreadful thing to say. Well, I do, but... Well, I bet you Mr. and Mrs. Garland love Beryl more than my mother and father love me. They loved her when she was alive, and now she isn't, they'll love her memory even more.

My mother said so. Now, Janie, your mother and father love you more than anyone else in the world. And how you could think they didn't? Still, you'll change your mind about all that in time. I guess everyone thinks they're not loved at times. Suppose I thought the same thing about my parents when I was a boy. But I was wrong. And you'll find out you're wrong, too. Maybe. I wonder if they'd be sorry if they didn't have me. If I died. Of course, they'd be sorry. And it's not nice to talk like that, Janie. Mm-hmm.

Oh, you have to turn here, Mr. Blake. It's all right. I know another way. A shortcut. But I've always gone this way before. Then it'll be an adventure for you going this new way, won't it? I always think we should make everything we do an adventure. That brings some excitement to life. THE END

Harry, during the phone people again yesterday. Uh-huh. What did they say this time? Well, they'll send someone out as soon as they can. Oh, that's what they've been saying all the week. I don't know. You pay for things and you pay a lot. Don't get any use out of them. This is exactly one week our phone's been out of order. Do you realize that? Seven days. Yes, Fran. Well, it's not good enough. People trying to get in touch with us and they can't. What's that? Speak of the devil and up he'll come. I must have just fixed it.

Well, aren't you going to answer it? It's about time. That's all I can say. If you deduct this time, it's been out of order from the account. Oh, you inconvenience. Hello? Repairman here. Your line is back in order again now. Thank you very much. Hmm. Hello? Someone at the front door, Fran. Yes, I know. Mother!

Where's Janie? That's what I came over to ask you, Fran. I've been trying to raise your number, but they told me it was still out of order, so I got in a cab... She's not with you. But she left here over two hours ago. The ten o'clock bus, she was to get that. Well, I waited at the stop until twenty minutes ago. The bus trip doesn't take any more than twenty-five. There are plenty of them at this time of day. But where is she? What's happened to her? Just a minute now. Well, what has happened? She should have been with your...

past ten at the latest. Fran, calm down. There's no need for such a panic. There's probably some quite simple explanation. Tell me it then. You try to explain what could have... Oh, my. No. No, it couldn't have happened. Not to her. You mustn't start thinking things... Oh, dear God. Please, not to her. Not what happened to Beryl. Fran, pull yourself together. This is not... The police. I must ring the police. Not to my child. Not Janie.

Well, can't someone say something? What is there to say now? Nearly seven o'clock. No word. Oh, Janey. I can't even cry anymore. I only wish to heaven I could. These tears would ease the tension. Oh, Mother, Mother, please. I can't bear this waiting anymore. None of us can bear it, but it...

Oh, sorry, I didn't mean... Oh, why on earth can't they ring? Not that I think it'll be bad news when they do. It couldn't be, but... If they'd just let us know something. Why won't it be bad news? What other news could you expect now? Nothing could happen to our kid. Happened to Belle Garland. Fran. The kid just disappeared. Much the same way as this. And when they found her... Fran, stop it. For the love of... No, leave it to me, Fran. I'll take it.

Hello? May I speak to Mr. Langford, please? Langford speaking. Oh, it's the police here, sir. You found her? You can tell us? Yes, sir. Oh, I'll come straight in and collect her. I'm sorry to say this, sir, but we think it must be your child. From your description... What do you mean? A girl has been found at Beckerwood. I'll have to ask you to come out there with me to identify the body. Beckerwood

Hello? Mr. Langford? Hello? What is it? What have they told you? They found her at Beckerwood. Are you there, Mr. Langford? Beckerwood. That's the place where she... Mr. Langford? Yes. We have to go out there to identify the... Hello? Mr. Langford? Would you please answer the phone? Hello? Oh, there you are.

I'm sorry the news had to be broken to you so abruptly. There's no chance of a mistake. Well, judging by the report I've had from my man at Beckerwood, no, sir. Hello, sir. Oh, Taylor. Mr. and Mrs. Langford, Mrs. Wyvern, Mrs. Taylor. He's in charge of investigations here at Beckerwood. Hi. May I speak to you for a moment, please, sir? Oh, yes, of course, Taylor. Excuse me, please, will you? Yes, of course.

Yes, Taylor, what is it? Well, it seems now, sir, there's been a mistake. What do you mean? Well, a short time ago, a woman reported her child missing. The woman's inside now, and she's just identified the body of the girl we found as her daughter. What? Well, it is her kid, all right. We've enough proof of that now. So that means the Langford child is still missing. I see. So this brings a score to three. It's more than likely the Langford kid's around here somewhere. This is his operating ground. The way the Langford girl disappeared points to this character we're trying to hunt down.

Anyway, I'd better let the Langfords know. I'll be inside in a minute to talk to the other woman. Very well, sir. Mrs. Langford, I have some news for you. Something you'll be very glad to hear. What? What sort of news? There's been a mistake about the child, sir. I'm desperately sorry that I had to shock you so much. Do you mean the child in there isn't Janie? No, sir. It's some other girl. She's just been identified. Oh, Fran. Oh, Fran.

So she's still alive. Janey's still... We hope she's still alive. Rest assured, we'll do everything possible to find her. You must find her for us. Given half a chance, we will. Now, I suggest you let my driver take you back home. No, I want to stay here. I want to help look for her. There's nothing you can do, Mrs. Langford. I'll be in touch with you as soon as I have something definite.

Martin here. Excuse me, sir, but we've just been put under something by a woman who's here with me now, Mrs. Craig. She says she saw Jane Langford getting into a car on Saturday morning about ten. What? Could she have discovered the car? Well, better than that, sir. She recognized the driver, a man called Arthur Blake. Quite well known in the Langford district. He owns a garage. Sure. Anything else? Well, there's only one other thing. Mrs. Craig knows Blake, and he knows he goes to Beckwood quite often.

He usually leaves on a Saturday morning and stays in Beckwood overnight, coming back on Sunday afternoon. Uh, someone else looks after his business for the weekend. Is he going to Beckwood this weekend? Well, Mr. Craig thinks so. Right. Circulate a description of Blake in his car and pull him in. Yes, sir. I tell you, you're wrong. I wouldn't hurt the kid. I wouldn't hurt any kid.

For Pete's sake, won't you believe me? I'm not this maniac murderer. I'm not. You've got to believe me. All right, Blake. We'll try it again in a minute. You can't make me admit there's something I didn't do. We can talk again shortly. I wouldn't hurt the kid. I wouldn't hurt any kid. Uh-huh. All right, I see.

Right, keep on the job. Now, Blake, given the matter some more thought, feel like telling the truth now? I have been telling the truth. Everything I've said has been the truth. I see. Then how does it fit in that your car and you were seen near the spot where we discovered the last kid you murdered? I didn't. That was Beckerwood Station on the phone. A party of four people out on a picnic saw you. They've described you in detail. They saw you near the murder spot late Saturday afternoon, 4 o'clock.

And it was about four that the girl was murdered. Well, I know where I was about four on Saturday afternoon, but I didn't know that was the place where the kid was murdered. You're lying. I swear I'm telling the truth. If she was found near the old dam, this is the first I've heard about her. What were you doing out there? Well, I'd had a row with my girl. I told you she lived in Becker. Wouldn't I go to see her? Why should a row make you go out to the old dam? I just got in my car and drove. I wanted to get away somewhere quiet to think things over.

I just happened to go there. Oh, you just happened to go there. Well, I could have ended up anywhere. It was just that I took the old damn road. Well, I thought things over. I went back to my girl and apologized. We're going to be married. I'm going to have children of my own. How could I murder these poor little kids? Everything points to your killing Beryl Garland, the second girl, Ann Deacon, and now Jane Langton. I didn't, I didn't. I never saw the other kids...

I know Beryl, but I hadn't seen her about for ages. And then Janey... Where is Jane Langford? What have you done with her? I don't know where she is. I let her off at 11 to speed her up, deciding what happened to her after. Why didn't you go to her grandmother's then if you let her off there? I don't know. Can't you understand? I don't know what happened to her after I let her off. You didn't let her out of the car. You took her somewhere else. Shut up, shut up. I don't know what happened. I... Yeah.

Get a doctor for him. Well, doctor, what's the latest on Blake? He'll be all right again shortly. His nerves are all shot to pieces, of course. All that question... Yes, yes, I know. I don't like doing it, but what else can I do? I've got to find out what's happened to this kid. What's the latest psycho report on him? The same as before. The psychiatrist maintains the manners of normal, average intelligence. Exactly the same story. Yeah. Yeah.

And yet everything points so clearly to... Oh, no. Excuse me, Doctor. Yes, of course. No, no, don't go. There are a couple of other things I want to talk about. All right. Yes, Martin speaking. What's that again? Where? All right, I'll be right there. What is it? The Langford girl. She's been found down in the docks area. Come on, Doctor. You're coming with me. Come on.

You're all right now, honey. Come on. Come on, dry your eyes. Nothing to cry about. You're safe and I'm taking you home. That's all right. You just lie back there in the seat. And don't you worry about a thing. How is she, doctor? Everything all right? She's all right physically.

I had a pretty bad time with it, though, with shock and so forth. You know, being out all night. I had to move in case Blake found her again. Could she stand up to a few minutes at headquarters to identify Blake? Yeah, it's five minutes, not too many, huh? All right. Stop him, then we're going back there. But, Janie, you know I dropped you off at Lavin Street. You must tell them, honey. Tell them the truth. If you don't, you'll get me into dreadful trouble. I'm coming. Jane! Sit down, Blake!

You won't get near your Janie. He said he was taking me on a shortcut. But we went past Lavender Street right out of the dot. It was all quiet. There was no one about. I tried to get out of the car, but it hit me. No, Janie, you're making this up. You did. You did hit me.

He took me to the doctor's. Before we were there, I'm a quiet part. He tried to put his hands up on my neck. No! I got in there for a while. I was a scream. Don't listen to him, you folks. Don't listen to him. Hold it there. All right. Here, Sandy, go on. I tried to find him often. After a while, I got free. I grabbed my bag and opened the door. He tried to get me again, but...

I got away from him and hid. Oh, I'm so scared. Okay. Okay. You don't have to tell us anymore. The Langfords are here, sir. They're waiting outside. I'll take the kid out. Yes, sir. Come on, Janie. All right now, Blake. Let's start again. Oh, no. No, I'll take it, Sergeant. Martin here. What? Huh? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I see.

Yeah. Okay, I'll be in touch. Sergeant, go out there and tell the Langfords to wait. If someone else, I want to clear up with the child. Lieutenant Martin, I've had enough of this. You won't speak to my child. Mrs. Langford, you can do one of two things. Stay in here and keep quiet or go outside. I'll report you to your superior, Martin. The same goes for you, Mr. Langford. Well, I... Okay, we'll be quiet. Oh, that's better.

Now, listen to me, Janie. You can stop those tears at once. No, you're a very clever little actress, but you're not putting it over anymore. You tell me the truth or I'll order your father to wallop the daylights out of you. Tell me the truth. You lied about Mr. Blake, didn't you? Be quiet. Janie, you lied, didn't you? You were quite prepared to see Mr. Blake, an innocent man, go to the electric chair just because of your lie. Tell me. You can't lie anymore. Oh.

That phone call was to say another little girl was nearly killed at Bakerwood an hour ago. The police caught the man with her. And on top of that, we just had a report that two people saw Mr. Blake drop you at Lavender Street. Saw you catch a bus that would take you to the dock. A bus that came along a few minutes before your grandmother woke up from a bus stop. Now, you admit that's true before... It's true! Watch me. All right. Now, why did you tell all those lies?

Why did you try to get this poor man into so much trouble? They don't care. Your mother and father don't care. They don't care. They don't care. I can't believe it.

Well, you'd better get her out of here. It's up to you what you do. Mr. Blake, I... How can I say... May I ring Dr. Wood, please, Lieutenant? Carol, my girl. Yes, yes, of course. And my deepest apologies. I just want to get out of here. Take Mr. Blake into the next room, please, Sergeant. Come with me, please, sir. Jane, come here. We'll take her home now, Lieutenant.

I'm very sorry. Franch? Jealous kids. Taylor. Sir? Fix a car for me, will you? And I'm going to Beckerwood as soon as I've apologized properly to Mr. Blake. That's if I ever can. A closing door finishes a story.

Next week, another key will open another door to another story. Mist, romance, or adventure all start when a door is unlocked by the key. Ironized Yeast presents Lights Out Everybody.

is later than things. Lights Out brings you stories of the supernatural and the supernormal, dramatizing the fantasies and the mysteries of the unknown. We tell you this frankly. So if you wish to avoid the excitement and tension of these imaginative plays, we urge you calmly but sincerely to turn off your radio now. This is Arch Oviller.

Dreams are part of all of our lives, and tonight we bring you the story of a woman's strange dream. But first, Frank Martin for just a moment. Frankly now, friends, is that you saying you're so thin and weak and frazzled out you can't do your work or enjoy your fun? Well, cheer up. Maybe all you need is more vitamin B and iron, and ironized yeast gives you vitamin B and iron. Yes, both vital substances in pleasant-to-take tablet form.

They've helped thousands of people who, only because they needed more of these substances, were weary and worn out. Helped them so amazingly that today these folks tell how fine they feel, how thanks to good pounds gained they look like a million, really enjoy life today. Yes, that's ironized yeast tablets. Make a note of that name right now. And now, lights out, everybody.

Claire? Oh, Claire? Yes, Charles? What time is it? Eight. You haven't been asleep? No. Not at all? No. Oh, that's terrible.

Claire, Claire, we've got to do something about it. What? Why don't you take some pills or something? No. But you've got to sleep. Claire, look here. Tell the truth. How long is it since you've slept? Really slept? What's the difference? Tell me. Three nights. No. You asked me. I had no idea. I thought you slept but didn't sleep soundly, but three nights. You'd better get up. It's late. Oh, never mind me. We've got to do something about this. You, Claire...

Claire, what's wrong? Wrong? The reason. The reason you can't sleep there. Must be some sort of a reason. I just don't sleep. All right. That settles it. What? You're going to a doctor today. Yes, this morning. No. What do you mean, no? No wonder you've been looking so ill. Charles, I don't want to. It's settled. You're going to a doctor right away. Wait a minute. Look at me. You're not hiding anything from me. What is there to hide? I just can't sleep. No!

Your heart action, lungs, everything quite normal. Of course, you're in rather a nervous state, but that's quite understandable. If, as you say, you haven't slept for that length of time. I haven't. Of course, I believe you. Please, won't you sit down? Thank you. What's troubling you, Mrs. Collins? Troubling? Yes. Nothing at all. If you're quite true, I think I'm going home. I have to... No, please, sit down. I'm warning you, Mrs. Collins, to go without sleep for as protracted a period of time as you have is most dangerous, physically and mentally.

For your own sake, you must let me help you. What can I do? Have confidence in me. Your husband tells me you refuse to take any sort of soporific sleeping powder. Is that true? Yes. It follows then that you don't want to fall asleep. Is that true? Well, Mrs. Cullens, I said it before and I say it again in complete sincerity. For your own sake, you must answer me. It's true, isn't it, that you don't want to fall asleep? Yes. Why? I don't dare. Why? Because I'll...

Dream? You don't want to dream? No. Why not? All right, then. Tell me this. How often have you had this dream? Two times. I see. What is this recurring dream about, Mrs. Collins? I can't tell you. Why not? I just can't. My dear woman, don't you realize I'm not just prying for the sake of simply prying? I'm trying to help you. And the way to help you is for you to help yourself by bringing this thing out into the open. You've got to tell me about it.

A dream generally has a basis in reality. We talk about it. Perhaps we can find the underlying cause of the dream and so eliminate it. Don't hesitate to tell me. You know I'm a physician. Everything you tell me is in confidence. Supposing we start. You go to sleep. Close your eyes. You dream. What do you dream? I dream. I dream. No, I can't tell you. Mrs. Collins, where are you? Well, I'll be...

Uh, Claire? Yes, Charles? Would you hang a towel on the doorknob? Yes. You gotta get out now.

I hope they don't rush in hot water in this part of the country. There. If I have to miss my goodnight tub, my morale will go lower than Hitler's conscience. Pals on the knob. Oh, yeah, yeah. Thanks, dear. Found it under the shelf. Yes, sir. Nothing like a tub to make a man sleep. Claire. Oh, yeah. Where's that robe? I'm sure going to find out in the damp.

Oh, Claire. Claire, the doctor. What, Charles? The doctor. I was so busy all day and then you didn't... Well, what happened? What did he say? He said I was all right. But, well, was that all? Didn't he say what was the cause? No.

Well, what in the... He didn't seem to know. It's crazy. I mean, when I got to the office, your sleeplessness was all I could think of. And then C.L. started to have one of his desk-banging fits, and then New York started in on the teletype, and I... Well, I just forgot all about it. The doctor, he did prescribe something for you, didn't he?

Yes. Of course. Pills are what you need. You just got yourself into an insomniac state of mind, but once sleeping pills breaks you of it, why, you'll be all right. Yeah. Pardon me. I guess I'm tired. Yeah. What do you say we turn out the light and both of us go to sleep, huh? All right. Wait a minute. Have you taken whatever the doctor gave you?

Yes. Fine. Well, off with the light, huh? You will be all right, ain't you? I'll be all right. Yeah. Sure you will. Pills will start to work in a few minutes. You'll be all right. Sleep. Wonderful thing, sleep. Wonderful thing. Sleep. Wonderful sleep. He's right. Wonderful sleep.

No, mustn't think about that. Mustn't think about anything but staying awake. Wonderful. No, isn't wonderful. Horrible. Horrible sleep. I won't sleep. I'm so tired. If I could close my eyes. Just a minute. Just a second. I wouldn't sleep. Rest. Just rest. No, I'd fall asleep and then... Got to stay awake. Got to stay awake.

Just close my eyes for a second. Just a second. Could sleep. Won't sleep. Won't sleep. Won't sleep. Won't sleep. Dream. I am asleep. Dreaming.

Walking. Where am I walking? Street. So long. Empty. Where am I walking? Running. Why should I run? Where am I running? I've got to stop running and walk. But I can't stop. I can't... House. What is this house? No. No.

I won't go up there. I won't, I won't. But I... I am. I won't, I won't. But I... I am. Going in. Who's in here? Hello, Claire. Claire?

Where's my father? You again. Where's my father? You again. Where's my father? The same dream. Where's my father? Don't say that. Where's my father? Stop saying that. Where's my father? No. Stop saying that. Where's my father? Close your mouth. Stop saying that. Stop. All right, I'll make you stop. Where's my father? Drink this. Drink. Just like the other time. Drink. Drink. That stopped you. Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy.

Dream. Just a dream. Running at my dream. Just a dream. Wait. Where are you going? No. Don't touch me. Put me down. Don't swing me around. I can't stand it. I'm getting dizzy. Around and around and around. Faster, faster, faster. Don't let me go. Why am I screaming?

Just a dream. I'll stop screaming. Dark. Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? Tunnel. Someone following me. Something. No! I know what it is. I know. It'll get me. Never get me. Run, run, run. Never catch me. Never, never. Dark.

Can't go any farther. End of tunnel. River. Can't go. So dark. And it's still coming for me. No, you won't get me. Won't get me. Swim. I can swim. Swim in the dark. Away from. Am I swimming in? Can't see what. Oh. Oh.

swimming in oh no i remember now it's a dream oh this is just a dream just a dream just a dream you can wake up out of a dream i will wake up i've got to wake up wait stop screaming wake up wake up you're having a nightmare claire you're having a nightmare wake up

Ladies and gentlemen, just to reassure ourselves that we're not dreaming, supposing we take time out from the story of the dream and leave Claire and Charles long enough to slow down our galloping bloodstream and...

While we're doing that, listen to some young ladies discussing a problem that is most important to them in these times. Of course you're lonesome. You mope at home all the time. Why, I'll bet you haven't seen the gang in months. Oh, but nobody wants to see me anymore. And I'm so thin and tired and all that, I just don't care. Oh, if I could only feel good once again. Maybe you can, and quickly, too. Maybe you're one of the thousands today who suffer simply from vitamin B and iron shortage. If you are, why don't you try ironized yeast tablets?

They give you both these vital substances, and believe you me, they are vital. You see, when you don't get enough vitamin B from your food, you may lose your appetite, not eat all you need. Why, even what you do eat may not do you the good it should. So, naturally, you lose weight, lose your pep, feel frazzled out.

And when you don't get enough iron from your food, you may be weak and pale. You may feel only half alive. And you say ironized yeast tablets supply both vitamin B and iron? Yes, and they're a cinch to take. Just pleasant little tablets. Yet it's these pleasant little ironized yeast tablets that have been of such amazing benefit to thousands who only needed more vitamin B and iron.

Today, these thousands tell how quickly ironized yeast helped them gain glorious new strength and pep, new pounds, new popularity. So, try ironized yeast tablets. If more vitamin B and iron is what you need, then see if soon you aren't saying... Oh, I feel wonderful. I've gained pounds. That weary, washed-out feeling is gone, and now I'm really enjoying life. Oh, how I wish I'd tried ironized yeast tablets ages ago. And now back to...

Lights out. It's the following morning. The husband and the doctor stand outside the bedroom door discussing the dream. Acting this way isn't going to help her, Mr. Collins. I'll grant you that it's serious not sleeping for six days. But I'm positive she'll be sensible now and tell me what it's all about. But the way she lies there, Doctor, her eyes... I told you, stop thinking about it. You ask me to help her and I'll help her. Now go make yourself some coffee while I go in and talk to her. But I...

All right, Doctor. And stop worrying. Morning, Mrs. Collins. Mind if I talk to you? I understand you had a bad time of it. Well, I can understand you don't feel much like talking. Suppose I pull up a chair, sit down, do the talking myself. What do you want? Something very simple. The truth. Truth? Yes, if not for your sake, for your husband's. What do you mean? I want to find out the source of your dreams.

You don't tell me, the consequences may be disastrous. The human organism simply can't endure without the proper rest. Mrs. Collins, I beg of you. Tell me. You must. I... Yes? I must sleep. Of course. If I tell you, you swear you won't tell him? You have my word as a physician. I... I've been married to Charles for two years. Yes? I was never married before, but I'm his second wife. I know. He had a child by that first wife. I...

I didn't like that child. He was always a reminder that Charles loved someone before me. I didn't like that. Well, go on, Mrs. Collins. Now, now, Mrs. Collins, please, go on and tell me. No, no, you shouldn't do that. Mrs. Collins, there's only one answer to this. You must take a sedative and get some rest. A few hours of sound sleep and everything will straighten itself out. I'm sure of that. Now, you will take a sedative, won't you? Yes, sir.

Yes, I will. Fine. You'd better take some right now while I'm here. Water. Here you are. Drink this. Come now, drink. Leave it. I will. Promise? Yes. Here's the sedative. Take two now, and if that doesn't do it, take two more in, say, half an hour. I'll leave you more than enough. All right. Now, you will take it. Yes. It's the only sensible thing to do. I'll drop in and see you this afternoon. I know that after you've slept, you'll feel more like talking to me.

Yes. Well, sleep well. Goodbye. Goodbye. Sleep well. Sleep well. Sedative. Yes. Sleep well. Must sleep. Must. But if I sleep... I've got to sleep. Got to. Don't care what happens. Got to sleep. Water. Where he left the glass. Pills. How many...

I don't know. I don't know. Put them in. Drink. Drink it all. I will sleep. Will sleep. What if it doesn't work? No. Doctor said I will sleep. Close my eyes. Don't care. Will sleep. Will sleep. Will dream. I'm asleep. Dreaming again.

Walking. Where am I walking? Street. The long. Empty. Where am I walking? Running. Why should I run? Where am I running? I've got to stop running and walk. But I can't stop. I can't. House. What is this? House. No. I won't go up there. I won't. I won't. Not again. But I... I am. I... I don't want to. But I am. I...

I won't. I won't go in. But I... I am going in. Who's in here? Hello, Claire. Where's my father? You again. Where's my father? You again. Where's my father? The same dream. Where's my father? Don't say that. Where's my father? Stop saying that. Where's my father? No, stop saying that. Close your mouth. Stop saying that. All right, I'll make you stop. Drink this. Now drink. Just like the other time. Drink. Drink. Drink.

There. That stopped you. Didn't it? Didn't it? Dead. Jimmy, you're dead. I did kill you. That's the way it was. I did kill you. I said it. I did kill you. I had to. Every time I looked at you, it was the infernal first wife of his I saw. You understand? I had to kill you. Gone. Jimmy, gone. It never happened before.

Never happened before in my dream. Dream, just a dream. Why do I run? It's just a dream. Wait. Where are you going? No. Don't touch me. Put me down. Don't swing me around. I can't stand it. I'm getting dizzy. Around and around and around. Faster and faster and faster. Don't let me go. Don't let me go. Don't let me go. Don't let me go. Run! Run!

Why am I screaming? It's just a dream. I'll stop screaming. So dark. Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? Oh, no. Someone following me. Something. No! After me again. Again. It won't get me. Never get me. Run, run, run. Never catch me. Never. Never.

I can't go any farther. End of tunnel. River. Can't go. So dark. And it's still coming for me. No, you won't. Don't get me. Swim. I can swim. Swim in the dark. Away from. Am I swimming in? Can't see what...

Swimming in... Oh, no. I remember now. It's a dream. Oh, this is just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. You can wake up out of a dream. I will wake up. Why can't I wake up? It's just a dream. A dream. Always at this moment I've been able to wake up. It's coming through the water after me. I've got to wake up. I've got to wake up. I can't swim in this. I can't.

I've got to wake up. Why can't I wake up? Dream, just a dream. Always woke up before. Why can't I wake up out of this dream? What if I could never wake up out of this dream? The pills, the doctor's pills. I took all of them. He said only two. But I remember, I didn't think I... I took all of them. I'm not dreaming. I'll never wake up out of this dream.

I'm dead. Ah, Mr. Obler. Trapped in a dream, huh? Why not? You know, Frank, there are some people that say that for all we know, all of us are in a dream. Did you ever see a dream walking? Oh, I did. Oh, seriously. Doesn't everything exist only through your senses? What you see exists, what you hear exists, what you smell exists. But the existence of things in a dream is just as real.

Is it possible that right at this moment you're dreaming? Well, time out till I pinch myself. Oh. No. I'm awake enough to want to know what's happening next week. Well, next week. It's a really exciting story. But supposing you tell me first, Frank, what you've got to say, and I'll follow you. Well, I'll just take a moment for another very important point about ironized yeast.

Folks, if vitamin B and iron shortage is what's keeping you miserably thin and weak and jittery, for your own sake, get ironized yeast tablets right away. They cost but a few pennies a day, and you don't risk even those few pennies. For ironized yeast is sold on a money-back basis. That's right.

If you don't quickly begin to eat and sleep better, to gain new pounds, to feel much stronger and peppier, the cost of the first bottle will be refunded to you in full by Ironized Yeast, Box IY, Raleway, New Jersey. But remember, there's only one Ironized Yeast. You'll know it by the big letters IY on the package and on each tablet. Now...

What were you saying about next week's story, Mr. Obler? Well, before I tell you that, there's something of vital importance to you and me I'd like to talk about. I mean, to all of you out there. It's inflation. Yes, that's a terror as much as a nightmare. The fight against inflation involves every man, woman, and child. This is a front on which, in the words of President Roosevelt, everyone in the United States will be privileged to remain in action throughout the war. Now, what causes the present danger of inflation?

Our factories are working at top speed, but they're turning out equipment needed to win the war. Not goods for you. More to spend, less to buy. This is the danger point. This can be the beginning of disastrous inflation if we start bidding against each other for the limited amount of goods on hand. If each of us tries to get a hold of everything he can, we force prices up. Savings, insurance policies are wiped out. Now, our government has taken steps to control the rising cost of living, and you, well, you ought to know about those details.

These include provisions for keeping prices stable and for distributing goods fairly through rationing. As part of the same anti-inflation program, wages and farm prices have been stabilized and excess profits are being taxed. We can beat inflation if all of us understand these measures are our protection to ourselves and work to make them effective. We shall lose out to inflation if each group and individual acts on the principle of, "He got something, I'm going to get something too." Now, beating inflation means buying only what we need, putting aside for the future every other extra dollar.

And now about next week's play. It's a story about a man who did exactly this. He took out a match, he lit it. And he looked into the flame and as he did so, he thought to himself, why, that little dancing thing in the flame is alive. For life, he knew it was anything that moved by itself and fed another matter. And that definition certainly applied to the flames.

So we'll end another match, and then... But that's next week. Yes, tune in next Tuesday again for Arch Obler's eerie story, The Flame. And if you need more vitamin B and iron, be sure to try Ironized Yeast. The one and only Ironized Yeast. With the big letters IY on the package and on each tablet. It is later seen.

Be foresighted about caring for your shoes. Make a note now to use Energene shoe white on your white summer shoes and get more satisfactory wear from them. Energene shoe white is made with the whitest pigment obtainable. It spreads over your shoes quickly, is easy to use, dries in a neat white uniform coating over the entire shoe. Use it regularly to keep your white shoes looking their best all the time.

Remember, for the best of care for the white shoes you wear, Energine shoe white. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Ladies and gentlemen, we take you now behind the scenes of a police headquarters in a great American city, where under the cold, glaring lights will pass before us the innocent, the vagrant, the thief, the murderer. This is The Lineup. Hey!

The End

Now we can sit right here, Mr. Hunter. How many men will we look at? Oh, 31 altogether. Our men probably won't be any of these, but... May I have your attention, please? You people out there near the side of the wire in the audience room, may I have your attention? Thank you, my name is Greb. Sergeant Matt Greb, I'll explain the latter.

Each of the suspects you will see will be numbed. I'll call off a number, then they will charge. If you have any questions or identifications, please remember the number assigned to the prisoner as I call his name. Please be prompt with your questions or identifications.

The questions I ask these suspects, only to get an actual tone of voice, so do not pay too much attention to their answers as they often lie. Bring on the light. All right. Come on. Open up to the end of the stage. Right on up to the end, that's right. Now turn and face front, hands to your sides and then straight ahead. Now when I ask you questions, talk up so the people in the back can hear you.

All right, number one, John Nathie, robbery, face front and talk up. Where do you live, John? 66 River Street. What's that? Seamus Hotel. Don't look at me. Look right out front so the people can see you. What do you do, John? Ships cook. Anybody arrested with you? No. Any weapons? Yes, sir. Pistol, wasn't it? Yes, sir. What kind of pistol? 32, I think. 38, I know.

Yes, sir. Do you have a car? Yeah, Chrysler. Well, sedan, a coupe, or what? Sedan. What color? Black. Okay. Number two, David Moore, assault. Where do you live there? 205 South Neal. Can't hear him, Matt. Now, look, I don't want to tell you boys again. It's a long way to the back of the room, so you got to talk. Come on, now.

Where do you work, Dave? Fisherman's Science. What do you do? What's your work? With Tom. Your landlady says you hit her. Yes, sir. With what? A hot plate. Something you cook on? Yes, sir. I was cooking. She said I was smelling up the building. Why didn't you hit her? Oh, it's a long story, Sergeant. You'd have to know my landlady.

Okay, number three, Ivan Seiberling, drunk disorderly. Any of these men, Mr. Hunter? No. Great Park, 644 North Horton Place. Don't tell me. Tell the people out there. What do you do, Ivan? Construction engineer. You were pretty drunk. Yes, sir. The arresting officer said he's had complaints before. Yes, sir. He has complained for a week.

Who's she? My wife. You live at 644 North Hudson? Yes, sir. The report says you broke a window at that address. The door was locked. I broke one other night, too, when she locked me up. I will keep right on breaking them until she leaves door unlocked. Maybe you'd better stop drinking. Yes, sir. Any questions or identifications from the audience? How about it, Mr. Hunter? Number two was picked up in your neighborhood. No. Any questions or identifications from the audience? We'll look at the next bunch. Nothing, Matt.

All right. All right, run them off. Bring her on the next line. Have a coffee, Mr. Hunter? Thank you. Yeah, we won't keep you much longer.

There you are. Thank you. Sergeant Grab should be here any minute now, right? Aye. This is Mr. Hunter, man. Sergeant Grab. Well, how do you do, Mr. Hunter? Sergeant Grab, a chairman. Thanks. Say, I voted for you in the last election, Mr. Hunter. Good. Didn't you spot anybody in the line at all? No, I didn't. Coffee, man? No, no, thanks.

Mr. Hunter can't think of anybody who'd want to kill him. And you can't remember seeing anybody suspicious hanging around your house? No, no, I can't, Sergeant. Well, none of your neighbors saw anybody either. Here's the report from the lab. The bomb was a time bomb. Found pieces of an old alarm clock. The size of the explosion must have been about eight or ten sticks of dynamite. Sure lucky you and the family were in the back of the house.

Very lucky. Well, we'll do our best to catch whoever it was, sir. Probably just a crank. A man like myself, politic, public figure, makes a lot of enemies for one reason or another. Maybe this one didn't vote for me last election, doctor. Come to think of it, maybe. Well, we may want to talk to you again, sir. Don't pardon me. Guthrie. Yeah? Yeah.

Oh, yeah? How long ago? Anyone hurt? Right, sure. Another bombing. What? Friend of yours, Councilman Adams. Well, was he hurt? Yeah, both he and his wife. They're in the hospital. They've got a child. Oh, the child's all right. Ruined the house. Were Adams and his wife hurt badly? Well, I don't know. Ambulance took them away. I'll have to check with the hospital. This is awful. Everybody should certainly be warned. Well, they will be, including the mayor.

We'll put a man with you and your family, Mr. Hunter. In the meanwhile, we'll go and look at Mr. Adams' house. Here's a coin. Here's a coin.

I got a man over here who thinks maybe he saw the guy who planted the bomb. Oh, well, let's go talk to him. Go over and talk to Chief Anderson, Matt. See what he's got to say about the damage. Sure. This man's a neighbor. His name's Crump. Mr. Crump. Yes, Sergeant? This is Lieutenant Guthrie. Hiya, Mr. Crump. Oh, glad to meet you, Lieutenant. Let's move over here where we can talk. All right. All right.

All right. Now, tell the lieutenant just what you told me, Mr. Krupp.

Well, at about 4.30, I was working in my backyard mowing the lawn, and I saw Mrs. Adams get into her car and drive out of the garage. Well, about an hour later, I went around front to get the hose, and I saw an old truck pull up across the street. I saw a man get out, kind of an old man, you know, old clothes. He went around the back of the truck and took out something that looked like a box. It was about this big, I guess. Then he headed for the Adams' house.

A couple hours later, I was sitting in my living room and I saw Mr. and Mrs. Adams pull up in front of their house and go in. A little while later, my wife and I were having dinner and the...

The explosion happened. Busted most of the windows in our house. I didn't think about the old guy with the box until I found out what had happened tonight. I remembered reading about this other bombing yesterday. Figured that box the old guy was carrying might have been the bomb. Yeah, I see. Can you remember what this old guy looked like? Well, maybe if I saw him again. And what kind of a truck was he driving? Oh, it was a real old one. Really beat up at an old Ford or Chevy. You know, one of those pickups. Yeah.

What did you say? I said you didn't get the license number. Oh, no. Why would I get it? I didn't even think anything about it until after the explosion. Well, um, if you saw him again, do you think you might recognize him? Yeah, yeah, I think so. Well, all right. Thank you very much, Mr. Crump. We'll keep in touch with you. Oh, glad to help. Go on in. Get Mr. Crump's phone number and anything we might need. Right. I'll be up with Matt. Okay. Ben. Yeah. Okay. Come on, Guthrie.

Quite a mess, huh? Yeah. Bomb, do all that? Bomb and the fire. Used more dynamite than the last time. Blew this room sky high. Uh-oh, watch out for the glare. Yeah. Center of the explosion was right about here. Uh-huh. Probably walked up to the side of the house, stuck the bomb into that opening in the foundation. Surprised nobody saw him. Somebody thinks he did. Well, you better catch this boy. He hasn't killed anybody yet, but he's trying pretty hard. Uh-oh.

Oh, getting cold. Yeah, paper says snow. How'd you make out with Crump? Nothing. He looked through the whole mug file and that a thing. I talked to the hospital this morning. Adams isn't going to be all right. No luck on that old Ford pickup? Uh-uh.

Why don't you turn up the heat? Oh, okay. Say, I bet we get a blizzard. We do, you know. Guthrie? Yeah? What was he wearing? Uh-huh, well, that sounds like him. We'll be right down. Well, maybe we got the bomber. Yeah? Twenty minutes ago, picked up a man wearing old coveralls and a dirty leather jacket coming out of a state building. Spotted him. Followed him three blocks before they grabbed him. He was climbing into an old Ford pickup truck.

With 30 sticks of dynamite in the back of the truck.

All set, Matt? Yeah, Ben. I got Crump sitting out front. How many men are you going to show? Three besides the suspect. Okay. I'll go sit with Crump. Hello, Mr. Crump. Hello. Oh, Lieutenant Guthrie. I couldn't see. Yeah, well, we want you to look at some suspects. Oh, that's what Sergeant Graff said. Yeah, we think one of them might be the man who planted the bombs. Well, I hope I can help. All right, Ben. Run him on. Yes, sir. Lights. Lights.

Bring him on, Quine. All right, come on. Move out to the interstate. Come on. Get on the line. You all get on. Coveralls and Leatherjacket. Take a good look. All right, now. The man on the end, Lieutenant. Yeah, what about him? That's the man. No doubt about it. I remember better than I thought I would. He's the one that got out of the truck, all right. The one with the box. All right, Matt. Run him off. Yes, sir. That's all. I'm off. We'll need a statement from you, Mr. Crump. Oh, sure. Um...

What were the others arrested for? They weren't, Mr. Crump. Three others were police officers.

Edmund O'Brien, who plays the title role in yours truly, Johnny Dollar, will be on his latest case tomorrow night over most of these same CBS stations. In one of his most thrilling investigations, Johnny Dollar goes to London to join forces with the men from Scotland Yard in the Hatchet House Theft Matter. How that London trip had Johnny Dollar's famous old expense account. Don't miss Johnny Dollar on Wednesdays.

He's gonna be a tough nut. Arresting officers couldn't get a thing out of him. We've got men over there talking with people in the state building. So far, nobody remembers seeing them come in. Yeah. Name's Louis Black, huh? Yeah, driver's license gave his address at 1910 East Flower. Ash is over there now, checking. I wonder what he was doing in the state building. I'm worried, too. I wonder if...

Oh, no. No, he couldn't have. What a big building. I hope you're right. Hello, Lewis. I'm Lieutenant Guthrie. This is Sergeant Grimm. Quinn? Yeah. We'll see you upstairs. Right.

Sit down, Lewis. I want to talk to you about these bombings. We know you made those bombs. The man saw you walk up to the Adams house with one of them. It's sheer cold in here, isn't it? It started to snow. That's right, that's right. Why don't you tell us about it? Well, I made them, sure. Why? I made them. I don't have to tell you why. You put one of them on the George Hunter's house. Do you know him?

Know who he is? But you don't know him personally? No. Did you know Adams? No. Well, then why try to kill him? Isn't there a heater in here or something? I've been out of work. Been out of work long? Yeah.

Hunter or Adams have something to do with it? You sure want to know why I made those bombs, don't you? We'd like to know. It's no fun being out of work. I've been out of work for a long time. You ever been out of work? Yeah. Well, then you know it's no fun. You try to get a job? Oh, sure. I couldn't get... I kept trying. Just couldn't get one. Look, do we have to sit in here? It's really getting kind of cold. We'll get out of here as soon as you tell us about it. Don't try to push me. I don't like being pushed around.

I can stand it, darling, just as long as you can. We're not trying to push you. No? No. We don't like this any better than you do. Just a job. If it weren't us, it'd be somebody else.

If you had a job, you'd try to do it the best you could, wouldn't you? Oh, sure. I used to have jobs all the time. I always did the best I could. What kind of jobs did you have? Oh, all kinds. I was a miner once. I worked in Pennsylvania. Is that where you're from, Pennsylvania? Yeah, I did all kinds of jobs once. Then I couldn't get it until nobody gave me a job. That's the trouble. There's not enough jobs. You've got to do something about getting jobs for people. Ah, that bunch of...

A bunch of dirty politicians. They don't worry about guys. I mean, they make speeches, sure. Yeah, they get elected. They don't do nothing. Like Adams and Hunter. You're darn right. Adams hunted a whole bunch. Even the mayor. Sure, the mayor. And the governor. He's the worst one of the bunch. He's the biggest. He could do something if he wanted to, but he don't. Gee, I ain't had a job in three years. You'd like to take care of him like you did Adams and Hunter, wouldn't you? I'm not going to tell you anything. You think I'm going to tell you something, don't you? But I'm not. What were you doing in the state building?

Why don't you try and find out? Look, Lewis, we don't want you to get into any more trouble than you're already in, so... I don't want to talk anymore. I want to go back to my cell. I'm cold. You can go back to your cell as soon as you... I'll tell it. Can I see you a minute? Yeah, Coy. Sergeant, can we have some heat in here? I'm cold.

Then we've got a janitor upstairs in the state building. He remembers seeing Louis Black come into the building by the side entrance. He says Black was carrying a big box. Holy. Look, see that the state building's cleared as fast as possible. Rope off the street. Step on it. Right. Louis, I just found out that you planted a bomb in the state building. I don't care what you found out. I'm not going to tell you. I'm tired of playing with you. Where

Where's that bomb? Where did you put it? Oh, sugar, if you can do anything you want, get rough. Beat me. I won't tell you where I put that bomb. Well, at least tell us when it's set to go off. What time is it? It's six minutes to five. You won't find it. How much time? About 40 minutes, I guess. Everybody's out of the building.

You find out where he put it? No, he wants it to go off. We got him over in the car with Walter and Asher. They'll keep working on him. Ah, it's an army car. Captain Phillips, demolition expert. I'm Phillips. I'm Guthrie. Hope we can use you. Know what kind of a bomb it is? Quiet, I'll tell you all we know. We've got to get into that building and try to find it. 30 men are there now, covering every floor. Who's in charge? Harrison. He's in the basement. Come on, then.

What time is it? About 25 minutes, more or less. Any luck? Not yet, Lieutenant. Harrison's still in the basement? Yeah, yeah, he's down upstairs. Thanks. Harrison? Over here, Ben. Well, any luck? No. How much time we got? Less than 25 minutes.

What orders did you give? Well, if the bomb's found, it's to be taken directly to the street. If we've still got any time left, the car will drive it to a safe place.

That army man get here? Yeah. Well, this is the way I want it to go. It's 513 by my watch. I'll set your watch. Right. Now, at exactly 525, order your men out of here. Tell them I got ten minutes to get clear. We'll go tell the rest on the other floors. Right, Ben. All right, men. Come on. Let's go down to the stairs. Which

Can you run an elevator, man? Well, sure. Now take the second floor. I'll take the ordinance, third, fifth, and so on. Be sure they set their watches with yours. Right, men. Sergeant. Yes, sir? You got a watch? Yes, sir. Set it with mine. Five seconds. It'll be 5-14-35. Now. Okay. Have all your men off this floor by 5-25. 5-25. Yes, sir. 5-25.

Ben. 525. Everybody's out. Yeah. Well, what do we do? That's a good question. Black wasn't lying. We've got something like ten minutes.

Ma'am. Yeah? Go out to the car and get black. Huh? Go out and get black. Maybe the last thing I do, but I'm going to find out where that bomb is.

Go on, get in there. No, no. Oh, no. I won't get you. Give me a little trouble. All right. Get out of here, man. What? Get out of here. Wait a minute. Suppose you find out where the bomb is. Who's going to watch Black while you get it? I'll worry about that when I get to it. Uh-uh. I'm staying. Okay. I can't argue. How about it, Black? You want to tell us where it is? Never find it. What time is it?

R-28. Ah, you can't scare me. You think if you keep me here, I'll tell you where the bomb is, huh? About five minutes, huh? I guess so. You're not very smart, are you? I said 40 minutes. Well, maybe 40, but maybe not. I can't be sure. Might go off in a second. I guess so. Who are you kidding? You won't stay in here. You're scared. Listen, Blank. You're darn right we're scared.

But so help me, you're going to tell us where that bomb is or it's going to blow all of us sky high. Now shut up unless you want to tell us. I'm not afraid to die. You're going to have a chance. Eight stories in this building. Yeah. If it's too far away, we may not have time anyway. Let me out of here. You're not going anywhere. You're going to stay right here until you tell us where it is. Tell you I won't. Well, then shut up. 529. Black...

You're not doing anything but wrecking a building and killing yourself. You can't get the governor. He's been taken out. You can't make me tell you. Okay, okay. How much dynamite's in that bomb, Lewis? Fifty sticks. Hope you guessed right about the time. Ben? Yeah? I told you it would snow. Oh, it's gonna be a big one. Lewis, why don't you tell us? I can stand it if you cheat. Five-thirty. Five-thirty?

All right, all right, all right. I'll tell you, it's in the basement. Show us. Step on it. How much time is it? Not much. Can you stomp it? Yeah, yeah. Now, now, where, where? It's up there. On top of the big pipe, you see, in the back. How did you get up there? Here with the ladder. Where's the ladder? Everything's been moved. Forget the ladder. Show us the spot. Right about here. Give him a booster. Come on, come on. Put your front of my hand. What's going on?

No wonder we couldn't find it. You see it? Well, grab it. All right, hand it down.

Okay. Let's get out of here. Let it go off. We don't care. We might not have time to stop. Can I tear off these boards without setting it off? Yeah, yeah. Well, explain it to me while I rip them off. I don't know. I don't remember. Please, let's get out of here. If you want to get out of here alive, you better remember. Well, this is dynamite. It's an old alarm clock. It's batteries and breakers. The alarm goes off and causes the circuit in the batteries. Okay. Okay.

Now take it apart. No, no, no, let me get out of here. You're going to stay right here. Now you settle down. Come on, Lewis, tell me. Tell me what to do. The wire from the battery to the dynamite. Pull them loose. These? Yes, yes, yes. Okay. Now, are you sure that does it? Yes. All right. Let's get it out to the street. Can you make it all right, Ben? Yeah. All right, let's go. All right, Lewis. Come on.

What is it? Those wires. It would have... It would have... Ben, I may be late to the station in the morning. I'm going to take my alarm clock and throw it as far as I can. Ben!

The Line Up, where before you pass the innocent, the vagrant, the thief, the murderer. Listen again an hour earlier, a week from next Thursday, when we will again bring you The Line Up. May I have your attention, please? You people out there in the land, why are you on the phone? May I have your attention? The Line Up

The lineup starring Bill Johnstone as Lieutenant Guthrie and Wally Mayer as Sergeant Matt Greb is written by Blake Edwards with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Howard McNair was heard as Louis Black. Featured in tonight's cast were Jim Backus, High Everback, Sidney Miller, Peter Leeds, Joe Duvall, and Harry Lang. The lineup is produced and directed by Jaime Del Valle. ♪♪

Beginning next week, the lineup will be heard on a new day at a new hour, Thursday nights at 9 o'clock Eastern Daylight Saving Time. This is Dan Cumberley inviting you to join us July 5th, a week from next Thursday, when we will again bring you The Lineup. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. ♪♪

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