TIME KILLER: The Man Who Changed Yesterday, Thus Tomorrow
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Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Retro Radio – old time radio in the dark, brought to you by WeirdDarkness.com. Here I have the privilege of bringing you some of the best dark, creepy and macabre old time radio shows ever created.

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

Welcome. I'm E.G. Marshall. Time. That great mystery of time. The silent, never-resting thing called time. Rolling, rushing on, swift, like an all-embracing ocean tide, on which we and all the universe swim, like apparitions, which are, and then are not,

That's how Thomas Carlyle thought of the miracle of time. But there are people today who think of time a little differently. They see it as something without a beginning and without an end. The whole block is just one big excavation, a big hole in the ground. Read that sign up there, Professor. The buildings formerly at this location have been demolished.

in order to make room for what will be known as the showplace of the nation, Radio City Music Hall. Radio City was built over 40 years ago. What's that? The good old 6th Avenue L. They tore that down back in 1938. There is no L. There hasn't been one in over 35 years. They tore it down and sold it for scrap. Professor, I think you need a little help. Maybe I do. But if what I think has happened has really happened...

then I'm either the luckiest man in the world or the most miserable. Our mystery drama, Time Killer, was especially written for the Mystery Theater by Arnold Moss and stars Mandel Kramer. It is sponsored in part by Allstate Insurance Companies and Buick Motor Division. I'll be back shortly with Act One. ♪♪

Do you recall the ancient story of King Canute, who, in order to demonstrate his absolute power, commanded the ocean tides to stop, but the waves kept breaking relentlessly. Time and tide, he learned, wait for no man, not even a king.

But is it conceivable that man, by force of some strange inner power, may one day be able to conquer both the tides and time? It started one day last year in December, just before the Christmas holidays. Professor Edwin Quillen was giving his end-of-the-semester lecture at the university in his course in parapsychology.

The point, ladies and gentlemen, is that time can be just as elastic as space. If, for example, you were in space hovering over the surface of the Earth in some kind of huge helicopter and the Earth kept revolving beneath you, you could choose to land almost at random at any point on that surface. Now, in the same way, every period of time that ever was, that is, or for all we know ever will be,

is out there someplace just waiting for us to put ourselves into it. Well, how do you suppose that'll happen, Professor Qualen? Some man or woman gifted with special extraordinary sensibilities might even be someone in this very room will somehow, someday, puncture a tiny hole in the wall of what up to now has been the impenetrable barrier to our physical and psychic senses. When that happens, and the time is near, the human race as we know it

will be forever released from the bondage and fog-bound limitation of its own feeble making. All right, thank you. And whether you're leaving New York City or staying right here, I want to wish all of you a very pleasant holiday and a happy new year. Thank you, Professor. Professor Kylan, if you have a moment, I'd like to ask a question. Oh, certainly, Clovis. Miss Mason, I hope I can answer it. Well, I'm almost positive you can.

I'm practically starved. How soon do we eat? As soon as the rest of the class clears out. Oh, I am really looking forward to these next few days with my favorite teacher, Professor Qualen. No more than I with my favorite graduate student, Clovis Mason. Oh.

All we have to do is beat Princeton tomorrow, and that'll put us even in the league with Columbia. Well, what are the chances, Tubby Boy? Pretty good. If you don't mind my saying so, Tubby. Aren't you up a little late with a game on tomorrow night? Oh, you're right, Professor. I lost track of the time. Well, thanks for inviting me over to your table, Clovis. I hope I didn't interrupt some heavy discussion on time or space. Not at all, Tubby. Nice talking to you, Brasser. Yes, good luck.

The body beautiful, the brain nonexistent. That wasn't very nice of you practically asking him to leave. It wasn't very nice of you. You were very discreet for that matter, asking him over to our table. Well, harm is there. Anyway, what do you care? I wouldn't like you to cost me my job. You're really scared I might? Well, you know how I feel about being so much older than you. And besides, I always get a little edgy and tense in a place like this. Ed.

Why don't you just relax? I do try. You know that. You keep telling me all the time about the self-discipline you learned in those 12 years you spent in the Himalayas. Where was it? Nepal?

You know, 98% of the time, you're wonderful. Thank you. When you want to be, you can be the calmest, easiest, most charming man in the world. And such fun to be with. And the other 2%? Well, like now. Nervous, irrational, and sometimes a little scary. But you're improving every day. Well, I thank you, ma'am. Thank you.

You know, sometimes I think it's a shame that we didn't keep prohibition. Prohibition? What's that got to do with it? What's the word? I get so uptight in places like this.

And in the old days, way before you were born... Actually, I was hardly more than a kid myself. There used to be wonderful little places, speakeasies... Where two people like you and me could go for a good dinner... And a quiet, relaxed evening together and no noisy kids barging in on you. And discreet? Very. I'll bet you'd like nothing better than to turn up in one of those joints. If that were so possible. It is possible. And they were not joints...

As a matter of fact, maybe that's where I should have taken you tonight. You know, there are still one or two of them around. They keep up the appearance of how they used to be. Well, why didn't we go to one of them? I never really want to see the inside of one again. Ever. Really? At the same time, I have mixed feelings. Because I'd give almost anything if in some way I could follow up what once happened in one of them. A long time ago. Follow up?

I haven't ever told you about it for a very good reason. You see, one night, I met this character and things began to happen. Before I had the chance to find out what was really going on, I ran out on the whole thing. I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, forget it. It's too long a story. But if I could ever...

This theory of time that you believe in so deeply, just suppose in some way you could prove it actually works. Well, you know that someday it will. Of course. And suppose... Suppose that I was the one who would prove my own theory correct? That a person of particular sensitivity could more or less pick his own period of time? And as well as place? And deliberately project himself into it? Why not? Why not? Why not?

Why not indeed? And when I do, I tell you that... Ed, put that glass down. You'll break it. Ed, what have you done? What are you doing?

broken the wine glass right in your hand. It's the strangest coincidence. Coincidence? Oh, you're bleeding. Here, let me tie my napkin around your fingers. Waiter! Waiter! Is there anything I can do, Coles? Oh, Tommy. He's had a little accident. Have you got your car here? Oh, sure thing. Could you, would you give us a lift to his apartment? Of course. Get out of here, the two of you. What? Leave me alone. I want to be alone. I'll take care of everything myself. I don't need you. I don't need anybody.

Glovers and tubby left. I got up to leave. With no warning, I suddenly felt very dizzy. I found it hard to breathe. The whole restaurant started turning around me like a huge spinning top. Somebody loosened my tie, gave me a drink of water. The next thing I knew, I was walking up Fifth Avenue somewhere in the 50s. Without thinking, I automatically turned west into 52nd Street. In minutes, I was standing in front of a darkened door, ringing a bell. ♪

I was at Luigi's. It had always been one of my favorite hangouts back in the old days. A peephole in the door opened and I appeared. The peephole closed. With a pause, the door opened. I was there.

Well, evening, Mr. Qualen. Ain't seen you in some time. Well, I've been a little busy. Good crowd tonight? Oh, can't complain. Why the people? Can't be too careful, Mr. Qualen. You know that? Not these days. Hey, make yourself at home. Uh...

Anybody sitting here? All yours, brother. Hope yourself. What'll it be, Mr. Qualen? A regular? Yeah, please. Vodka and tonic. What'd you say? Vodka and what? Vodka and tonic. Was that something new? Some kind of a Russian drink? What's the gag, Luigi? Gag? It's nothing, only your regular is an orange blossom. Sometimes you switch to a Bronx cocktail. Orange blossom? Yes, of course. A

Bring me an orange blossom. Make mine another Brock's cocktail, please. Okay if this one's on me? I, uh, yes, I suppose so. Thank you. You just visiting our fair city? No, no, I'm, uh, I'm born and bred New Yorker. Right here in Fun City. Fun City? Oh, that's a peach. I got to remember that. How about you? Well, I've been here three years in the advertising game. Name's Joe Delaney. Ed Quaylen. Glad to know you. What's your racket? Racket?

I'm a college professor. Come here often? Well, not as much as I used to. A lot of my drinking pals have died off. Oh, sorry to hear that. I used to be able to walk in here, meet three or four buddies, have a quiet drink. No arguments about should we stay in the U.N., should we leave the U.N. U.N.?

The United Nations. You mean the League of Nations. No, no, I'm talking about the United Nations, Delaney, not the League of Nations. Here are your drinks, gentlemen. Luigi's stuff is the best right off the boat. Off the boat? The liquor. I think he brings it in through Canada. That's very funny, Delaney. What's that? Well, you hardly seem old enough to have been around in the old days, and yet the way you talk, the phrases you use... I don't know. I really don't know.

Something funny seemed to be going on. I had the feeling of having seen all this before, even though it was all happening for the very first time. Where'd you find that? That's a real collector's item. Find what? A pack of cigarettes. I haven't seen one of those since... You remember, you know, with the war? The war? All the green packs of that brand, like the one you have there, were almost overnight put into white packs when the war started. They wore? Sure.

And they'll never write tunes like those old ones. To me, most of this new stuff is just so much noise. You can't even get a seat to the show that one comes from three months in advance. What, you mean they've revived it? Revived it? With such a hit, they've cut the nerve to ask 440 for an orchestra ticket. 440? Really? Things are kind of dead here. What do you say we toddle over to the Casablanca? I haven't been there in ages. Where is it?

You don't know the Casablanca? Was it downtown? No, right over on 6th Avenue, under the L, number 1270, one flight up. The L? Come on, Ed. I think we can both use a little air. Watch the damage, Luigi. Here's the bad news, Mr. Delaney. Okay, here.

Lenny, you don't mind if I call you Joe? No, no, no. I hope you won't be offended if I tell you that some of the expressions you've been using are a little puzzling to me, a little peculiar. How so? Well, things like the advertising game. I haven't heard that in years. What's the damage? Toddled over to the Casablanca. I haven't heard anyone talk like that, and I can't remember. Well, now that you mention it, there are a couple of things you've been saying I find a little odd. No offense, of course.

Like that first drink you ordered. What was it? Vodka and what? Tonic. Fun city. United Nations. The war. The war has been over since 1918. It should change, Mr. Delaney. Wait a minute. I don't believe it. Where did you get those bills, Luigi?

I robbed a bank. Where do you think I got them? Where I get all of them, Mr. Qualen, from customers like you. But the government withdrew those large-sized bills back in 1928. That's when they put out the smaller ones. Like these. That's absolutely amazing. But what are they, anyway? Counterfeits? You ever see these little bills, Mr. Delaney? Is this another gag ad, like trying to make us think you couldn't remember what kind of a drink an orange blossom is?

What is this, Ed? That's what I intend to find out. Who can undo what time hath done? Who can win back the wind? Not an easy question to answer. Most of us acknowledge the idea that life is but a dream. We are not quite ready to accept the notion that time, too, may be nothing more than an illusion.

which is what our friend Ed Quillen, professor of parapsychology, may or may not be about to discover. I'll return in a moment with Act Two. What is time? The shadow on the dial? The striking of the clock? The running of the sand? Day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries...

These are only the outward signs, the measure of time. As for the nature of time itself, Professor Quillen, who seems to have little more in common with Joe Delaney than his taste for good whiskey, is about to find out. The House of Representatives has just passed the measure by a vote of 211 to 105. It is expected that the new law...

But one moment, please. Please stand by for a special announcement. What's that all about? Listen, it may be there's been a... I am reading from a special announcement that's just been handed to me from the newsroom.

The body of Charles A. Lindbergh Jr., infant son of the great American hero Charles A. Lindbergh, was found dead less than an hour ago. Missing since March 1st of this year, a continued search for the child, dead or alive, had, up to this evening, revealed nothing. Turn it off, Luigi, please. Despite of the fact that $50,000 had been paid to the unknown kidnapper... What do you know?

He paid the ransom and the kidnapper killed the kid anyway. Took two years to find the kidnapper. Two years? How would... In 1934. 1934? Yes. Bruno Hauptmann, a carpenter. He was brought to trial the next year in Flemington, New Jersey, I think it was, and found guilty of the crime. After that, they changed the law, the Lindbergh kidnapping law. Hold your horses, Ed. How do you know all this? What are you talking about? It was all in the papers.

The Lindbergh kidnapping is part of history. Sure, but you're talking about 1934. That's right, 1934. Ed, are you some kind of... Luigi, you happen to have today's paper? Which one? The Mirror, the Journal American, the Herald Thrift. I got them all. Any one of them. Here you are, Mr. Delaney. Thank you. Now, Ed, will you please read the date on this paper? Today's paper. May 1932. I've got a little headache. I've got a little headache.

Going out for a breath of air. Let me go with you. You want to try that other place you spoke of, Joe? Casablanca? If it hasn't changed too much, I think you'll like it. Besides, the walk over there will do you good. Yes, it might. It might indeed. I should have got rid of him right then and there and gone home. But there was something fascinating about the whole idea of going along with him. Something challenging. Anyway, minutes after we left Luigi's...

No hat, Joe? No overcoat? At this time of the year? What do I need a coat for? End of December. I make it the middle of May, Ed. Pleasant spring night with even a touch of summer in the air. What am I doing with this heavy coat? Muffler? Fur-lined gloves? Take them off. Carry your coat on your arm. I don't understand it. You'll be all right, Ed. Just what is it you said you teach? Parapsychology. Par-what? Parapsychology. Parapsychology.

The part of psychology that examines and tries to explain phenomena like clairvoyance, telepathy, ESP... ESP? Extrasensory perception. Would that be something like mind reading? Well, not exactly. There are people who can anticipate what's going on in someone else's mind days before the thing itself happens, even though the two of them are separated by hundreds of miles. Not fakes? Oh, definitely not fakes. I'll be a monkey's uncle. In fact...

One of the things I've been working on is a new theory of time that says that past, present, and future are in a sense all one and the same. That a person, without changing in any way himself, might be able to introduce himself into any period of time that he chooses. How could that happen? Because time is not real. It's nothing but an idea that man has invented. Hold everything, Ed. Take a look at that. What is it?

I told you I hadn't been here in almost a year. I completely forgot. Forgot what? This is where the Casablanca used to be. Well, there's nothing here. All blocks and excavation. Just one big hole in the ground. Read that sign up there. Buildings formerly at this location have been demolished in order to make room for what will be known as Rockefeller Center. On this site will be built one of the most beautiful and modern theaters in the world to be known as Radio City Music Hall.

But Radio City was built over 40 years ago. What's that? The good old 6th Avenue L. They tore that down the end of 1938. Take it easy, Eddie. There is no L. There hasn't been one in over 35 years. They tore it down and sold it for scrap. Professor, I think you need a little help. Maybe I do. But there's someone I have to tell about this. If what I think has happened has really happened...

Then I'm either the luckiest man in the world or the most miserable. I'm not sure which. Taxi! Taxi! I had the same dizzy feeling I'd had earlier in the evening. In fact, I'm almost certain that I blacked out right there in the cab. I can't be sure for how long. Then, before I knew what had happened, I was in Clovis Greenwich Village apartment.

Clovis, darling, I apologize for what happened earlier this evening. Oh, I understand, Ed. You were more than a little wound up, and when that wine glass broke in your hand, you really lost control. I know, and I'm sorry. How is your hand? It's all right. It's fine. Clovis, listen. You are the only person in the world who can understand what happened. What happened? Yes. Do you remember I kept talking about the days of prohibition, the speakeasies? Uh-huh. How I wished we could have gone back to one of them? So?

Well, Clotas, that's where I've been. To a speakeasy? To a 1932 speakeasy. What are you talking about? I have been back to 1932. I don't follow you. You know that imaginary helicopter I keep using in my lectures? Yes. Hovering over the earth as the earth revolves beneath it? Of course. And how I keep saying that almost any day now, someone whose sense is attuned to a fine sensitivity and who has the strength of will to want it to happen...

We'll make that helicopter land at almost any point in time that he wills. Yes? Clovis, I'm almost certain that I have done just that. I think I am that someone. Only I made one big mistake. I left too soon. I left Delaney standing there right under the 6th Avenue L in front of the excavation for Radio City Music Hall. Ed, stop pacing around the room. Sit down, please. Don't you see, Clovis, if I don't go back tonight...

Look, I have to find Delaney again. It's of the greatest importance. Why? Who is this Delaney? By himself, he's nothing. But meeting him again may be the answer to everything I've been searching for. Take me with you, Ed. I want to go with you. When the time is right, you'll come with me, Clovis. But not before. The night had become quite cold. There was a feeling of snow in the air. I pulled up my overcoat collar and started walking uptown. For a second or two, I had the same whirling feeling I'd had earlier in the evening. Oh!

This time I knew what it meant. I felt strangely excited, exhilarated, impatient for the thing to happen. Now, if I could only get myself to land at that exact point in time that I was looking for... Hey, where you been keeping yourself all this time, Mr. Qualen? Long time no see. Oh, I've been away, Luigi. Out of the country, I bet. Something like that.

Must be a good year, year and a half. How long is that? Well, the night they discovered the Lindbergh, baby. I remember you. You were here. That was a year ago last May, wasn't it? Yes, I guess so. And here we are with another new year practically knocking at the door. 1934. 1934. Yeah, well, at least one good thing. After next week, Prohibition will be repealed and I can run an honest joint again. Luigi...

You ever see that Mr. Delaney, the Joe Delaney? The big advertising man? Yes. One of my regulars. Usually turns up around this time of the night. At that point, I realized I had missed the exact point in time I had been aiming for. I'd overshot it by almost a year and a half. Instead of getting back to May 1932...

I had landed into December 1933. I don't believe my eyes. My friend, the professor, right? Quigley, Quinn, something with a Q, correct? Quillen. Ed Quillen. Right, I'm Delaney. Yes, I remember. Joe Delaney. Advertising, account executive, right? What a memory. Where have you been keeping yourself all this time? Away. Can I buy you a drink? Why not?

They didn't put you away, did they? What's that supposed to mean? Well, the last time you were here, the night we met, you were practically raving. Saying some of the kookiest things. Like how they discovered the murderer of the Lindbergh baby. Well, here it is a year and a half later and they still haven't found the guy. And then we walked over to 6th Avenue. You remember that? Very well. You kept giving out like some crazy mind reader how they were going to tear down the L, sell it for scrap money.

Delaney. I see you got over it. Listen to me, Delaney. Listen carefully. Your drinks, gentlemen. We have begun to populate the space around the Earth with man-made stars. We have begun to create new heavenly bodies that never were before.

There is every indication that in the not-too-distant future... ...we may even be able to create... ...or recreate the miracle of life itself. Well, what do you know? The biochemists are getting closer and closer to it every day. Do you follow me, Delaney? I'm not a very bright fellow, but I'm doing my best. In the same world where a man has walked on the moon... A man has walked on the moon. Did you hear that, Luigi? Where the entire notion of distance is yielded to the terrible onslaught of speed...

Yes, Professor. In a world where distance and space have become almost meaningless, so has time. Delaney, believe it or not, I am living in the year 1976, and I have willed my way back more than 40 years to what you call now. You want to know something? You are a very sick man. Am I? You don't belong here. You belong in some kind of an asylum.

You don't mind, Luigi? I'm taking my drink over to one of the tables. And if I were you, Luigi, I'd call an ambulance. Now, just a minute. Take your crummy hands off me. You ignorant little huckster. Luigi. He's getting a little violent. You'd better throw him out before he loses control. What do you think you're doing? Put that broken bottle down. Don't you take another step toward me, Delaney. Not one step. You really are crazy. Yes, stay where you are. What do you think you're threatening? Oh, my goodness.

I spent broken bottle in the pipe! Hey! Hey, you pushed Delaney over. He hit his head. He's out cold. And his face and head are all covered with blood. I didn't mean to. Maybe you better send for a doctor. Mr. Quailen, you can't leave now! Don't try to follow me, any of you. Where are you going? Where none of you will ever find me. Not if you were to live forever. The world-famous British philosopher Alfred North Whitehead said some years ago...

Heaven knows what seeming nonsense may not tomorrow be demonstrated truth. The miracle by which you now hear my voice began in the great mind and imagination of a man whose dream was, at the start, called childish and nonsensical. A wild dream called radio. I shall return shortly with Act Three.

The tree that is seen is real enough for the sensation of the eye. The tree that is dreamed of is equally real for the person who's dreaming of it, as long as the dream lasts. But the tree that is seen and the tree that is dreamed of can never be the tree itself, the real tree.

In the same way, the experience of time can be an illusion. Something that's not quite real. Something that exists in the mind alone. We join Professor Edwin Quaylen the following evening in the apartment of his young friend, Clovis Mason. Will you stop fidgeting while I change this dressing on your hand?

That's quite a cut you gave yourself last night in the restaurant. Is the glass all out? I think so. Ed, after what happened that night in Luigi's place, that was when you took off for Nepal and the Himalayas? Inside of hours. I was on a freighter on my way out of the country.

A couple of months later, I stumbled my way into that little village, 50, 60 miles maybe, northwest of Kathmandu. Now, hold still. This may hurt. People took me in as if I were wanted. Ow! That does hurt. I'm sorry. Anyway, in the next 12 years or so, I learned whatever I now know about myself. And when you returned to the United States? 1946. I was a much wiser man, sensitive to the disciplines of concentration...

Of self-will, of the need to conquer time and space. What about Delaney? In all these years, I've never been back to Luigi's, not since that horrible night in 1934. The place is still there, of course. I know, but you're not answering my question. Delaney, I think I killed him, Clovis. That's why I ran away. I see. And the knowledge that I may be a murderer, a killer, has been haunting me all my life.

And now that I... that I have this power to will myself back into the past the way I did tonight, I'm going to find out what really happened to Delaney. I understand. But you're not quite sure, is that it? Well, I intend to find out. I've got to find out about Delaney.

Anything is possible. That does it. Now, try to keep the dressing clean. One question? Yes? When you go back this time... I expect to prove several things. For one, here in the year 1976, I am the respected Professor Edwin Quaylen, Ph.D. On another plateau of time, it could turn out that I have killed a man. And if I have...

Are you expecting someone? No. Uh, who is it? It's me, Tubby. I came to return that psychology paper I borrowed. I'll get rid of him real fast. Oh, boy, is it ever freezing outside. It's colder than... Oh, uh, excuse me, Professor Quaylein. I didn't see you. Tubby. Here's the paper, Clovis. I hope it helped. It sure did. How's the team doing, Tubby? Well, so far, no complaints. Of course, a lot will depend on what happens tomorrow night. Oh, I'm sure of that. Clovis...

You can have a glass of water, please. Right away? Well, what's wrong, Professor? Anything I can do? No, no. I'll be all right in a minute. Here. Here's your water. Thank you. What happened? I don't know. For just a second or two there, I just suddenly felt faint. I had a kind of buzzing in my head, a kind of high whining sound. Everything about me started to vibrate.

I'm all right now, though. You're sure there's nothing I can do? No, no, thank you. Well, then, uh, guess I'll be going. I'm sorry about tomorrow night, Tubby. Uh, tomorrow night? Yes, the game. What about the game? What are you sorry about? To lose such an important game by one measly little point. What? In just the last eight seconds of play. Uh...

I don't think I follow you, Professor. The game, tomorrow night, 97 to 96. They are favored. But, Ed, they won't be playing until tomorrow night, 24 hours from now. That's quite true, isn't it? Uh...

You know, if you'll excuse me, I think I have to be going. You sure you're okay, Professor? Yes, I think so, Tubby. 97 to 96? That can't be. It just can't. No!

This has been one of the most exciting games in the entire conference. The score has been seesawing back and forth all evening. With less than 15 seconds left, the home team is still leading by just a single point, 96 to 95. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Red Summers has just got hold of the ball. We're ahead, Ed. I'm so glad you were wrong. He pivots. He passes it to Tubby Sammartino. Tubby Sammartino.

He shoots. Oh, no, no. It just misses the basket. Tex Goldberg picks it up for the other team, dribbles it to the other side of the court with almost no interference. He shoots, and it's in. The score is 97-96. They're a favor. That's what you said. That wraps up the game. The home team has lost by a single heartbreaking point, 97-96.

And with the conclusion of the... Ed. Yes? How did you know how tonight's game would turn out? I'm not altogether sure. It just sort of came to me. How? When? I guess it was when I... when I got that dizzy spell. Clovis. What is it? Clovis, could this possibly mean that I've actually done it?

That I've gone ahead in time? You know how I've always said that imagination is the beginning of all creation? Lesson number one in your course. That you imagine, you conceive the thing you desire. That the next step is to will. To make happen the thing that you imagine. And in the end, to actually create what you will. Until last night, you thought you had succeeded only part of the way. Until last night, I wasn't 100% sure. I had been able, I am able, to will myself into the past.

But last night, I think I completed the cycle. That silly basketball game was a kind of test. Test? Yes, I was up there for the briefest moment in that imaginary plane I keep talking about. And I looked down on everything. The past, the present... And the future. Exactly. I was there, Clovis, during those last eight seconds of the game. My body was here in this room, but I was also at that game.

Tonight's game, 24 hours before they actually played it. I saw it all happen. And now what? They say a criminal always returns to the scene of his crime. Tonight, I'm going to try to go forward in time and visit the same place. What are you doing with that gun? I'm taking it with me. It may be needed. Oh, please, Ed, don't do anything foolish. I won't. I give you my solemn word. Oh!

I left Clovis' apartment and started walking. I can't recall which way I was going. Toward the river, I think. Then, just as it had happened before, I heard that weird ringing in my ears. Everything got blurred before my eyes. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a stool at the bar in Luigi's. Here you are, sir. Your drink. Thank you.

Uh, bartender? Yes, sir? I'm curious about this place. Has it been here long? Luigi? I thought everyone knew about Luigi. He's been here since the 1920s. That so? Well, is there a... Was there ever an actual Luigi? Oh, indeed there was. Luigi was sort of an institution by himself. He died only last year. That's his obituary up there over the bar. December 25, 1978. Oh.

Great man. He died this past December 1978, Christmas Day, three, four months ago. Sad day for all of us, for all his friends. Evening, Roger. A little windy tonight. Good evening, son. Are you regular? Thank you. Mind if I sit here? No, I'll talk. Up yourself. Some wind out there tonight. Visiting our fair city? No, not really. I work here. And so? Yes, I'm a teacher.

Yes.

Yes, sir. This place has seen just about everyone and everything. U.S. presidents, foreign dignitaries, movie stars, murderers. Murderers? A man was killed right here at this same spot we're sitting at. Back in the 30s. A man was killed? Never found the fellow who did it. Disappeared that same night into thin air.

One of the great unsolved mysteries of the police department. That's all. What did the victim, this Delaney, actually die of? A fractured skull. You see, as he fell down... Excuse me, sir. Did you just say Delaney? Yes, the name of the man who was killed. How did you know his name was Delaney? Oh, you just said so. No, no, I did not. I mentioned no name. That's funny. I thought you had. I guess maybe I had read about it at one time and the name just stuck in my memory. Of course.

By the way, what did you say your name was, Professor? Quillen. Edwin Quillen. I thought so. You thought so? Why? Do you know me? You have no idea how happy I am to meet you, Professor Quillen. Wait a minute. What do you think you're doing? Putting handcuffs on you, Professor. You're under arrest. Are you out of your mind? Not quite. I'm a detective attached to the 17th Precinct.

I've been looking for you for a long time, Professor. What's this all have to do with me? This is a double pleasure, a double satisfaction. Your drink, Mr. Delaney. Thank you, Roger. Delaney? Yes, I'm Vincent Delaney. You see, Professor, the man you killed, Joe Delaney, was my father. And that's why you'll never get me. Never. Wait a minute. What's happening?

Where are you? No, no! Roger, have I gone out of my mind? Did you see what I saw? I don't believe it. He vanished. He disintegrated right in front of my eyes. And the craziest thing, he took my handcuffs with him wherever he went. And if they think for one minute that I'm going to live out the next three years just waiting for them to catch up with me... Ed, what are you doing with that gun? Put it down. I will not spend the rest of my life in jail. Give me that gun, Ed. Go ahead.

Open it, Clovis. Open it. I'm going into the bedroom. Oh, hi, Clovis. I was wondering if you and Professor Qualen might like to be my guests. Guests? Yeah, yeah. Next Saturday, nice game. I got two complimentary tickets to every game. Oh, no. Oh, dear Lord in heaven, no. No.

According to the police, there's still no explanation for the fact that locked onto the right wrist of the body of Professor Edwin Qualen was one half of a new type of police handcuff. The other half was dangling free. What puzzles the police authorities even more is the serial number of the handcuffs. The number QX15296410.

will belong to a new model that the police are contemplating purchasing at some time in the future. They do not anticipate that this new type of handcuff will be in production much before the end of 1978. When Columbus, Magellan, the Phoenician navigators probed into the mysterious realms of the distant and the unknown...

They hadn't the remotest idea that they were among the first to do away with distance and space. Once they were able to measure things, nothing was quite as immense as it was before. Nothing was too big to be firmly grasped by man's imagination, even the idea of time. I'll return in a moment. ♪♪

Do you recall how Professor Quillen in his lecture said that every period of time that ever was or will be is out there someplace waiting for us to put ourselves into it, if we wish?

that some specially gifted person might one day penetrate the barrier of time and do what now seems impossible. Do you suppose that one of you listening at this moment to my voice might be the very one to do this? Our cast included Mandel Kramer, Rosemary Rice, Jackson Beck, Russell Horton, and Arnold Moss.

The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. He could be a criminal genius, but don't let his running away convince you. All children do that when they're caught in a crisis. Stuart has run away, and we have got to find him. Just to find out, is he smart? No, Miss Telford, to find his friends.

He's the only lead. Surely I don't have to explain. What would the Pentagon pay for a disintegration beam? How many millions would an element transmuter be worth? If we could teleport, travel by mind alone, how powerful would we be? My goodness. Mr. Herod, this professor's almost got me convinced. How about you? Mr. Warwick, your caper makes us look like pikers. Thanks for letting us cut in on you. We'll pay off.

We'll find that kid. Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by Allied Van Lines and Carrier Air Conditioning. 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.

Hold the kaleidoscope to your eye. Peer inside. One twist changes everything. A woman awakens in a grotesque, human-sized arcade game. A mysterious cigar box purchased at a farmer's market releases an ancient djinn who demands a replacement prisoner. An elderly woman possesses the terrifying power to inflict pain through handmade dolls.

An exclusive restaurant's sinister secret menu includes murder-for-hire and harvested organs. With each turn through these 20 tales, Reddit NoSleep favorite AP Royal reshapes reality, creating dazzling patterns of horror that entrance as they terrify.

The Kaleidoscope, 20 Terrifying Tales of Horror and the Supernatural by A.P. Royal, narrated by Darren Marlar. Hear a free sample on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com.

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

Monsters, myths, mysteries, mirth, and more every Monday with Mind of Marler. I like alliteration, can you tell? You can find a list of where you can subscribe to the podcast at WeirdDarkness.com under the menu tab for podcasts.

This is the Mysterious Traveler, inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and the terrifying. I hope you will enjoy the trip, and it will thrill you a little and chill you a little. So settle back, get a good grip on your nerves, and be comfortable, if you can, as you hear the story I call Death Has a Thousand Faces. Death Has a Thousand Faces

Our story begins at police headquarters in an eastern metropolis. In a small, shabbily furnished office, Horace Riker, a patrol officer for the state prison commission, is seated at his desk, which is completely covered with gift packages. As Horace, a small, mild-mannered man in his late 40s, starts to open some of the gifts, there's a knock at his door.

Come in. Oh, hello, Captain. Hello, Horace. Well, I see none of the boys forgot you. 25 years with the State Prison Commission. That's a long time. Yes, I never knew I had so many friends. Why, look at all these gifts. There must be at least 20. Well, here's another one, Horace. This is for me and the other boys in the Homicide Squad. Oh, I don't know how to thank you and the others, Captain. You've all been so kind. Ah, nonsense, Horace. You

You know how we all feel about you. I'm really a very lucky man, Captain. I have a job I like, fine friends, and a wonderful wife. So you and Millie are hitting it off okay, eh? Of course. I told you it would work out all right. Even if I am 20 years older than Millie. Well, I'm glad to hear I was wrong. Here, let me help you open your gifts. Thanks, Captain. Looks as though half these gifts are boxes of cigars. I'm afraid you'll have to take up smoking, Horace. Guess you're right. Well, this one doesn't seem to be cigars.

Sounds like a clock. Clock? Yes, I can hear ticking inside. Doesn't seem to be a card with it. Well, I'll unwrap it. The card is probably inside. Wait just a minute. Let me see that package. Why, of course. Here. Well, there's a ticking inside, all right. Cheap wrapping paper, no store label, return address.

Why should anyone send you a wound-up clock? Well, maybe they just wound it up to make sure it worked. I like the looks of this. What do you mean? Mac, this is Captain Ross calling from Riker's office. Get the bomb disposal squad over here on the double. It's an emergency. What did you find out, Captain? Morelli and the bomb disposal squad have just finished. It was a bomb, all right. Oh, dear me. Morelli said it was extremely well-constructed.

If you had opened that package, you'd have been blown to bits. Who... who could have sent it? Oh, it's pretty obvious. It must have been sent to you by one of the convicts whose parole you revoked. You... you really think that's it? Of course. I wonder which one it was. That's all we'd like to know. There's nothing about that bomb that we can trace.

Well, you'll have to be doubly careful from now on. Doubly careful? Yes, this con may make another attempt on your life. I'm assigning one of my men to you for protection. But I don't need protection. And think how frightened Millie would be if she found out. Now, don't you worry. She won't find out. I'll see to that. Well, if you think it's best. Just leave everything to me, Horace. Now, you better run along home.

Millie? Millie, where are you? Oh, here I am. Stop yelling. Look, Millie, at all the gifts I got from the men at the office. They... Isn't that a new dress you're wearing, darling? Yes, I bought it this afternoon. How do you like it? Oh, it's beautiful. You look wonderful in it, Millie.

Uh, how much did it cost? Eighty dollars. Eighty dollars? Yes. It was marked down from a hundred. I just couldn't resist it. But, Millie, you bought two new dresses just last week. Well, you can't expect me to go around in rags. I'm sick and tired of having to skimp all the time and never have... No, no, no, Millie, if you want to keep the dress, of course you may. The only thing is, I don't know how I'll be able to meet the insurance payment due this week.

You mean, if I keep this dress, you won't be able to make the payment on your policy? Yes, dear. Oh. Well, in that case, I'll return it. You must keep up your insurance. I'm sorry, darling, that you have to return it. I'll try to find a part-time job in the evening so we can increase our income. You're going to have everything you want. Yes, Horace, you're right. I am going to have everything I want.

One way or another. That night, as Horace took Millie out to a movie, they were followed by a detective who Captain Ross had assigned to guard Horace. But as the days slipped by, Horace went about his work as usual, completely disregarding his bodyguard. After three weeks had passed and no further attempts were made on Horace's life, the detective was assigned to another case.

Good evening, darling. Sure was hot today, wasn't it? Yes. Serp will be ready in a few minutes. All right, dear. Is there any beer in the refrigerator? Yes, I put two bottles in there this morning. Good. Nothing better than cold beer on a hot day. You want some beer, Millie? Now you know I never drink it. It's too fattening. What did you do today, dear? What did I do? I don't know.

I went shopping. Oh. Oh, this beer is cold. Makes my eyes ache. Horace, I can't stand this heat much longer. When are you getting your vacation? Well, I've been given the second and third weeks in September. But that's weeks away. I know, Millie, but I didn't have any choice. I'm sorry that we... What's wrong?

My heart. It hurts. That's what comes from drinking beer when you're overheating. Oh, it feels worse. Oh, nonsense. You'll be all right in a minute. Millie, help me. Get a doctor. I can't breathe. Horace, are you sure you need a doctor? Yes. Hurry, Millie. Hurry. Hurry.

How is he, Doctor? It was a close call, Mrs. Riker. But he'll be all right. You can go in now. Oh, thank you. Doctor, I'm Captain Ross, friend of Mr. Riker's. How do you do, Captain? Millie, that is, Mrs. Riker, said it was a heart attack. Is that right? Yes, Captain, it was a heart attack. Brought on by poison. Poison? Yes. Do you have any idea how it happened? Yes. Strychnine in the beer.

Fortunately for Riker, he only took a sip of the beer. Had he taken any more, he'd be dead. This is a matter for your department, Captain. Yeah, so it seems. I must turn in a report to you. Thank you, Doctor. That's quite all right. Well, I've got to leave now. I've got another patient to see. Good night. Good night, Doctor. Strict now. Has the doctor left? Yes. How's Horace? He's asleep now. That beer that Horace drank...

When did you get it? Oh, it was delivered yesterday from the grocery. Did the delivery boy give it to you directly? Why, no. He left it on the rear porch. I was out all day. I see. What are you getting at? Horace's heart attack was caused by poison. Poison in the bottle of beer. Poison? Mm-hmm. But who would want to poison Horace? Oh, maybe it was one of the convicts whose parole he revoked. Then again, it might be someone else.

You have no clue? No, not yet. But I can promise you one thing. I'll not give up until I've got the person who's trying to murder Horace. Hello, Horace. How are you? I'm feeling fine, Captain. It's good to be back at work. Well, sit down, Horace. Thank you. I suppose you realize what a close shave you had. Yes. Horace?

I've got four men working on the case day and night. We've been checking on all the convicts whose paroles you've revoked. Well, that sounds like quite a job. It is. Naturally, we've been checking other angles as well. Other angles? Yes. You understand, of course, it's my duty to investigate every... every aspect of the case. Certainly, Captain. There's nothing personal in what I'm doing. It all comes under routine investigation. Yes, of course. Well, what I'm trying to say, Horace, is...

I've had one of my men check up on your wife. On Millie? That's right. But that's ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. You have no right to... It isn't ridiculous. We've uncovered some very interesting facts about your wife. What? These are the facts. First, your wife worked in an aviation instrument factory during the war. She's a skilled mechanic. Of course, I know that. It's absurd. Your wife has the ability to construct a bomb. A bomb such as the one you received. Are you...

Are you trying to say it's Millie who's out to murder me? Let me give you the rest of the facts. You're out of your mind. How dare you make such an accusation against my wife? How dare you? Fact number two.

Six months ago, you took out $50,000 worth of insurance on your life. Whose idea was that? It... How can you possibly afford to carry $50,000 worth of insurance on your salary? That's none of your business. I refuse to listen any further to these absurd accusations you're making against my wife. Fact number three. Your wife is two-timing you. Has been for months. She's seeing a young man by the name of Jerry Clapper. I won't take that from anyone, not even you. I'll show you... Oh, don't be a fool, Harness. I'm only doing my duty. Now, sit down. Sit down!

And stay down. Aris, we've been friends for 20 years. Do you think I'd tell you all this if I didn't have to? It's lies. All lies. Fact number four. Your wife's boyfriend works for a medical firm. He has easy access to poisons.

including stricken. Nothing you're saying is true, nothing. If you were honest, you'd admit that you don't like Millie. You never have. You were dead set against my marrying her. That's true, but that has nothing to do with this. I love my wife and I trust her. I don't believe a word you've told me. If you knew her as I do, you'd know she isn't capable of such a thing. Are you so hopelessly in love with her that you can't see what I'm telling you is the truth? It isn't the truth. And nothing you can say will change my mind. And I warn you, Captain, if you spread any of these lies about my wife around, I'll...

I'll kill you. With this threat, Horace stormed out of Captain Ross' office and returned to his own. In the days that followed, he avoided Ross, which was soon noticed by his fellow workers.

Horace told Millie nothing of the accusations that Ross had made. If anything, he was twice as devoted to Millie as ever. The two spent long hours together making plans for their vacation. The day before they were to leave, Horace was summoned to Captain Ross. You wanted to see me? Yes, have a seat. I prefer to stand. Very well. I understand you're leaving on your vacation tomorrow. Yes. Where are you going? None of your business. I'm asking you as your superior.

We may wish to get in touch with you. We're driving to Virginia. We're renting the same cottage we had last year. I see. Have you had any further attempts made on your life? No. While you're on your vacation, be careful. What do you mean by that? You know what I mean. You don't stop insinuating that my wife is trying to murder me. I'll see to it that you... Just be careful. That's all I'm asking. I'd like to see you come back. Is there anything else? No. Thank you. Thank you.

Well, I've won. Ah, this is a life lying peacefully in a hammock far away from everything and everyone. Enjoying yourself, Millie? Yes, Horace. Just like our honeymoon, isn't it? Yes. And we've done all the same things. We've gone fishing, swimming, boating, and we've tramped all over the countryside. It's been wonderful.

You know, the only thing we haven't done that we did last year is visit the gigantic caverns. Yes, that's right. I'd forgotten about that. We did visit the gigantic caverns last year, didn't we? Yes, Horace. Why don't we spend tomorrow exploring the caverns? Do you remember that wonderful waterfall and pool? Yes, it'll be a lot of fun. Do you remember the way we almost got lost in the caverns last year? Oh, if you get lost in there, you can wander days without finding your way out. Well, this time I'm going to be very careful. Yes, Horace.

We've got too much to live for to let anything happen to us. Well, here's the entrance to the caverns, Millie. It certainly is deserted, isn't it? Yes, no one comes here after Labor Day.

Now wait till I tie the end of this string to this tree. Uh, how long is that ball of string? Oh, about 5,000 feet. Almost a mile. There. That should be long enough to take us to the waterfall and the pool and the cabin, shouldn't it? Yes, just about. Are you ready, dear? Yes, Horace. I'll carry the flashlight. Your eyes will become accustomed to the darkness in just a minute.

Cool in here, isn't it? Yes. The only thing I don't like about these caverns are the rats running around. And the bats. Oh, they won't bother you. Uh, do you want me to unwind the ball of string for you? No, Millie, I can manage nicely. This place is fascinating. I'm certainly glad you suggested this little trip there. Horace! Horace!

Look how high the roof is, Miss Cavern. I must be 200 feet. Yes, these caverns get more interesting as you pass from one to another. However, I'm afraid we can't go much further. We've about reached the end of the string. But, Horace, I wanted to see the waterfall and the pool. I should have brought along another ball of string. Why are you stopping? I've reached the end of the string. Horace, listen a moment. Do you hear the waterfall? No.

Yes, I think I do. It sounds as though it's directly ahead. Let's keep going a little further. But darling, there isn't any more string. Oh, we'll only go a little way. It doesn't sound very far off. We'll be able to find our way back. Well, all right. Wait till I tie the end of this string around this rock. There. Come along. Come along.

Well, we've come quite a way, but here it is. Yes. Shine your flashlight down on the pool, Horace. All right. It must be quite deep. Yes. What are you thinking of, darling? If a person fell into the pool, there'd be no way to get out. The walls of the pool are sheer rock. There'd be no way of climbing up them. Yes, that's right.

What makes you think of it, darling? I don't know. Standing here or looking down at the pool. It just comes to mind. It couldn't be...

that perhaps you want to get rid of me. Oh, Horace, how can you say such a thing? It could be, couldn't it? After all, I'm 20 years older than you are. I'm not good looking and I haven't any money. Oh, don't talk like that. Why not? It's true, isn't it? My friend Captain Ross thinks it's you who's made the two attempts on my life.

I? Yes. Ross said that you could have constructed the bomb that was sent to me and have poisoned the beer I drank. How dare he say such a thing? He claims you're after my insurance. And of course he mentioned the man you've been seeing, Jerry Clapper. He told you about Jerry? Yes. Well, you don't believe that I sent you that bomb or poisoned the beer, do you? No, Millie.

I know you didn't. Oh, it's good of you not to think so. You may want me dead, Millie, but I know it wasn't you who made the attempts on my life. How can you be so sure? It's very simple, Millie. Because it was I who sent the bomb to myself and poisoned the beer. You? Yes. But why? Why? You're in love, Millie. You should know to what length love can drive a person...

In that horrible moment seven months ago when I found out you were deceiving me... I came close to killing you. Horace! Does it surprise you that a mild little man my age could feel so deeply? But then I realized that wasn't the way. That... wasn't the way? No. I began to formulate a plan. A very clever plan. First, I took out a $50,000 life insurance policy... with you as beneficiary...

Several months later, I followed that up by sending myself a bomb, and shortly afterwards, I poisoned my beers. But why did you do all that? I knew that sooner or later, my friend Captain Ross would come to believe that it was you who was attempting to kill me, and that's exactly what happened. But why? Why? It was all part of the perfect buildup.

The buildup that had led to this moment. What? Yes, Millie. You're going to die. Here and now. No, Horace. No. I loved you so, Millie. I loved you so. Horace, don't come near me. Don't touch me.

Boris! Boris! Save me! Don't let me drown! Where's Jerry? Where did he save you? I wasn't good enough for you, was I? But you need me now, don't you? Boris! Help me! Help me! Millie? She's gone. I... I better get out of here.

As soon as I get back to the cottage, I'll call the sheriff and tell him my story. He'll believe it, particularly after he talks to Captain Roth. There won't be any trouble. After all, I'm just a mild little man in his late forties. I'm not the type who can love deeply or hate deeply. Well, at least she found out before she died. Let's see...

Here are three pads. Which one is it that will lead me to the string? It's the one on the left. Yes, that must be it. It's about a half mile from here to where the string ran out. Then I follow the string for a mile and I'll be at the entrance. Strange, I...

I don't remember this turn in the path. But then I may not have noticed it before. This must be the right path. But then they all look so much alike. These caverns are just a maze of passageways. Maybe I took the wrong path. Perhaps I should have taken the middle one.

Yes. Yes, it must be the middle one. I'd better retrace my steps. All I have to do is keep calm and I'll be all right. People only get lost when they're excited. I just have to go back to where the three paths are and take the middle one. I mustn't get excited. I mustn't get excited. I mustn't get excited.

Horace Riker ignored the rapid beating of his heart and attempted to remain calm. But as he made his way along, he was constantly confronted with diverging and crisscrossing passages, all of which looked unfamiliar. After wandering for an hour, his flashlight burned out and he could no longer go on. Exhausted, he sank down to the ground, completely losing all track of time.

Meanwhile, the absence of the Rikers from their cottage went unnoticed. It was only after the fifth day that it was discovered they were missing. The countryside was searched without any success.

Captain Ross flew to Virginia to aid in the search. Then, someone remembered the gigantic cavern. A week from the day he'd entered the cavern, Horace Riker was found semi-conscious, babbling deliriously. He was rushed to a hospital, but the search for his wife went on. You may go in now, Captain Ross. Thank you, nurse. Hello, Horace. How are you feeling? Captain Ross...

What are you doing here? I flew down here two days ago to help in the search. I was with the party that found you in the gigantic caverns. Millie, did you find her? Yes. How is she? She's dead. Dead? They found her body in a large pool by a waterfall. Poor Millie. Suppose, Horace, you tell me exactly what happened. The whole idea of visiting the gigantic caverns was Millie's.

When we got to the entrance, I led the way in while Millie unrolled the ball of string behind me. After we'd gone a mile, the string ran out. In the distance, we could hear a waterfall.

Millie insisted that we go on, though I argued it was dangerous. What did she say to that? She said she'd marked the path with her lipstick as we went along, and we could find our way back to the string that way. I see. We must have gone about a quarter of a mile when I suddenly realized Millie was no longer following me. I turned, but she was gone. Then I called out to her. I could hear her laughing in the distance and telling me to find my own way out. What did you do then?

I am afraid I got panicky. In that moment, I realized everything you told me was true. I tried to follow Millie's laughter, but it seemed to come from all directions. As I tried to retrace my steps to the string, I became completely lost. And that's all I remember. I see. Despite the lipstick marks she made as a trail, Millie apparently became lost when she ran away from you. Yes. Captain, I want to apologize for not having believed you.

I hope there aren't any hard feelings. None at all, Horace. I'm just glad I was one of the party who found you before it was too late. I suppose I was in a bad way when you found me. You were semi-conscious. Slowly sinking. By the way, Horace, this will interest you. Oh, what's that? It's a phonograph recording. I'll play it for you. I had it made just after you were brought to this hospital. Listen. Listen.

I wasn't good enough for you, was I? Why, that's me. I've got to find my way out of here. Do you think that all these months I haven't known what's been going on, huh? I may not be young or good-looking like your Jerry, but I have brains. So dark here. So dark. It took brains to work all this out. First the insurance. Then the insurance.

Then the bomb. And poisoned beer. And now this, Millie. Just the way I planned it. You're drowning, Millie. You're drowning. And they'll never find out, Millie. I'm too clever for them. Yes, Horace, you are clever. I must apologize. I completely underestimated you. If you hadn't been delirious when we found you, I'd never have known that you murdered Millie. I'm sorry.

This is the mysterious Trapper again. Did you enjoy our trip? He had the perfect blueprint for murder. Only he left no margin forever. How was he to know that he would confess all while delirious? Oh, you have to get off now. I'm sorry. I'm sure we'll meet again. I take this same train every week at this same time.

They've been here for thousands of years, making their presence known in the shadows. They might be seen by a lonely motorist on a deserted road late at night, or by a frightened and confused husband in the bedroom he's sharing with his wife. Perhaps the most disconcerting part of this phenomenon boils down to this question. Has the government been aware of their presence all along and is covertly working with them towards some secret end?

In the audiobook, Runs of Disclosure, what once was fringe is now reality. While listening, you'll meet regular people just like you who have encountered something beyond their ability to explain. You'll also hear from people of great faith and deep religious belief who continue to have these strange and deeply unsettling encounters. Author L.A. Marzulli explores these ongoing incidents to discover the answers to these questions.

Who are they? What do they want? And why are they here? Can you handle the truth? Listen to this audiobook, if you dare. Rungs of Disclosure Following the Trail of Extraterrestrials and the End Times by L.A. Marzulli Narrated by Darren Marlar Hear a free sample on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com

Miss Flea. Miss Flea.

Mystery House, that strange publishing firm owned by Dan and Barbara Glenn, where each new novel is acted out by the Mystery House staff before it is accepted for publication. Mystery House. Well, Barbie, tonight's Mystery House story deals with blackmail, doesn't it? It certainly does, Dan. It's called Salt for the Goose. That's an intriguing title.

Let's go. Just a minute, Dan. Before you do, here's a message from our sponsor. All right. We all ready? Get to the scene, Tom. Sauce for the goose. Our story opens with Joe Wood, a private detective, driving to a party with his girlfriend, Mary Fox.

Well, here we are. And, Joe, if the Jenkins want us to play bridge after dinner, please don't refuse. Bridge? Hey, you're doing well enough getting me to come to the Jenkins for dinner. You didn't say anything about bridge with those stuffed shirts. I'm going to make a human being out of you yet. Okay, okay. Mine, not the reason why. It's number 314.

It's up to the third floor. I'll ring. You might at least live in a building with an elevator. Go the walker, do you good. Yeah. Hey, Mary, wait a minute. Wait a minute. Do you smell anything funny? Why? It smells like gas. Don't write it, does it? It's coming right from this apartment here. Door's locked.

Give me a nail file. Wait a minute. Here. Here it is. Yeah, thanks. Yeah, yeah. I think the tumbler's clicked. Let's see. Look out. Stand back, Mary. Stand back. See where it's going. Terrible. Oh, Joe, you weren't going in there. Of course I am. I'll be right back. Joe. Are you all right?

Is there anyone in there? Joe! Yeah. She's passed out. Thank goodness she's still breathing. We've got to get her to the hospital right away. Joe!

All right, come on, Mary. We're going to find out what this is all about. The nurse said room 205. Mm-hmm. This is it right here. After you, my dear. Thank you. Well, how's our patient, hmm? Who are you? Oh, that's all. That's right. You wouldn't know, of course. This is Miss Mary Barnes, and I'm the nurse.

And I'm Joe Wood. We're the folks who got you out of your apartment. Oh. I suppose I ought to thank you. No, it isn't necessary. Well, thank you for nothing. Now I'll just have to do it all over again. Oh, now, come. It can't be that bad, miss. Things are never that bad. You'd like to know how bad it is. That's why you're here, isn't it? You think maybe it's an exciting story. Why, I've only been granted to. Well, what did you expect, Miss Barnes? I knew what I was doing when I turned on that gas, and I knew what I wanted to do. It took nerve to do it.

Don't ever let anybody tell you that only a coward commits suicide. I know different. It takes a lot of courage. Courage? Sure it does. Also, it takes a mighty stupid view of things. But you can. Oh, yes, I can. You or any other dizzy redhead. Not a brain in your head. That's my guess. Why, you big... Get out.

I said get out! Just who do you think you are, anyway? Well, first of all, I'm a guy who's always barging into other people's business. And right at the moment, I'm a guy who's trying to find out whether a certain girl's feelings are completely deadened. I don't think they are. What do you mean? If you were completely whipped, you wouldn't give a lead nickel what anybody thought about you. I could insult you all night. It wouldn't make any difference to you.

But you do care. So things can't be all together, Hopus. All right, I'm properly grateful for all you've done for me. You were wonderful. You saved my life when I don't want it. So now leave me alone. I don't think we're making much of a hit show. You'll catch on. Maybe we'd better go. No, before we go anyplace, I want to know some of the answers. It wouldn't do anybody any good. But maybe I could help you. Nobody could help me.

Well, why not let me be the judge of that? Well, I suppose you're entitled to something for your trouble. I haven't gotten money, so the best I can do is give you a story. It's not a very pretty story. We're listening. There isn't any romance in it, not much excitement. I was a clerk in the Johnson's menswear store, a really smart haberdashery. Mm-hmm. I know the store. Go on. Well, one day, about a year or so ago, I'd been having a rush of business.

About 10 o'clock in the morning, a well-dressed man came up to me. I'd like to look at his shirt, please. Yes, sir. We're having a sale today on these plain white ones. Either plain or French, cost $2.65. They're $3.50 value, just as advertised. One of these should be all right. Fifteen and a half collar, 33 sleeve length. Yes, sir.

Here's a $5 bill. Thank you. Your change and package will be back in just a minute, sir. All right. Oh, say, I'd like a good linen handkerchief for my coat pocket. Let me see. This is a nice one right here. Rolled edges, hand-stitched. Excellent linen. How much? A dollar each. Six for five dollars. I guess one will be enough.

Oh, here's your package. And here's your change. That was $2.70 with the tax. Let me see. $2.75, $3, $4, and $1 is $5. But I want the handkerchief now. A dollar, you said? A dollar, too, with tax. I guess I have a couple of pennies. Let me see. There they are. I'll have the handkerchief wrapped up for you. No, that's all right. I'll just stick it into my pocket.

Here. Look all right? Mm-hmm. Very nice. Oh, I'd better make out a sales ticket on it. I'm in a hurry, miss. Could you help me, please? Just a moment. Thank you, sir. Now, ma'am, what would you like? I want to look at those neck ties in the case. Those right there. I always pick out my husband's... I didn't know it at the time, but the man was from the Personnel Investigation Bureau, a firm that investigated salespeople to see whether they were honest.

I was busy all the rest of the morning, late getting away for lunch. I hurried back and there was a message for me that my boss wanted me to go to see a Mr. Carson in the Layton Square building. I went up to his office and he said... Sit down. Thank you. I suppose you're wondering why you're here. Why, yes, I am. You didn't think anybody would ever catch up with you, did you? What do you mean?

Don't remember me, do you? Why, no. Oh, wait a minute. You bought a shirt from me this morning. And a handkerchief. Remember? I bought a handkerchief, too. Well, wasn't everything all right? Everything was not all right. Miss Moran, your boss hired me to find out whether or not his employees were on it.

How long have you been robbing him? Why, you. But the idea, you can't talk to me that way. Come off the high horse. You're a thief and you're caught. I'm not a thief. I never took anything that didn't belong to me in my life. Sure. That's what they all say. If you're so honest, why didn't you turn in that dollar sale you made to me this morning? I was so busy, I never got a sales ticket made out on it. But the money's in the back of my cash book. I'll turn it in as soon as I get back. Oh, no, you won't.

Because you're not going back. But the money's there. I haven't cheated anyone out of anything. I was busy. I just didn't get a chance to make a house. You had all the chance you're going to get.

The money's not in your cash book now, and you don't get a chance to put it back. That'll be getting off pretty easy. Look here, I'm not a thief. I work hard for every cent I earn at Johnson's. Sister, you're on the road to jail right now. But you've got to believe me. I believe what I see. And what's more, I know how much you've stolen altogether. Altogether? You think there's more? I know it. You're insane. I never touched a penny of that store's money. Altogether, it comes to $1,000.

A thousand dollars? Why, that's ridiculous. I wouldn't know what to do with that much money. Didn't know it added up to that much, did you? A dollar one day, two dollars a night. You worked in that store over two years. I wouldn't be surprised if you've taken more than that.

But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. This simply can't be true. Things like this, you read about them, but they just don't happen. Yeah? Well, it's happening to you right now. And I've got good evidence. Plenty good to stand up in any court. Court? Oh, but you wouldn't. I wouldn't?

That's my business. I'd send you to jail in a minute. Jail is where you belong. But you're wrong. That's what they all say. And I'm going to give you another chance. What do you mean by that? How much money have you been able to save out of what you've been knocking down? I tell you, I haven't... Give it. How much money have you got? Nearly $300. I'm going to give you a chance.

You make up that $1,000 and I can keep Johnson from prosecution. But I tell you I didn't... Now listen, sister, I don't care what you tell me. Now get this through your head. You've been caught with the goods. We go to court and we can send you behind the bars. There'll be plenty of publicity, too. You'll be marked for life. But it's not true. That dollar is in my cash book. I know it is. And I know it isn't. I checked this new one while you were out to lunch. You probably bought your lunch with it. Are you...

Are you going to make up what you stole from your boss while you're going to jail? But I tell you, I didn't take anything. You've got to believe me. Oh, no, I don't. I'm not in this business for my health. I get half of everything I can turn back to your boss. That's why I'm not particularly interested in sending you to jail. Gail, you don't do him any good and you don't do me any good either. What do you want me to do? I want you to sign a full confession.

I have it all written out for you. Well, I'll do no such thing. I'm not guilty of anything, and I'm not admitting something I didn't do. Big, brave word, you little tramp. How dare you? Sit down. And quit the acting. I've been through it before with better actresses than you. Now, sign this paper. No. Sign it, and you get a chance to pay me back the money. A thousand dollars. If you refuse to sign it, you go to jail.

Sign it and Johnson and I are the only ones who will ever know that you're a thief. Don't sign it and everybody in the world finds out about you. I'll see a lawyer. That's a laugh. Lawyers want clients who aren't guilty. But I'm not. Now listen. I know how to get my evidence and I've got it on you. Now come on. Sign up. And if I sign this, there'll be no stories? That's right. That's the end. You'll not even be questioned. It'd be worth it to avoid suspicion. Why, sure.

After you sign, mom's the word. When do I pay? You pay $300 now. The rest, as time goes on. Why, that's blackmail. Now, look, I'm giving you a chance. Do you want it or don't? But I didn't take it. It's an open and shut conviction, otherwise. Now sign. I suppose there's nothing else to do. Now you're being sensible. Here's my pen. And don't think you're going to skip town, either. Because you'll be watched every minute until that $1,000 is...

Well, I paid the $1,000 more than a year ago. I know because I kept track. Then what's the difficulty? Oh, this man, this Carson who runs the Personnel Investigation Bureau, he still has my signed confession and he says I still owe him $500. How come? It seems there are a lot of thieves involved in collecting from me. It's a little matter of interest.

Oh, don't you see? As long as he has that signed confession to hold over my head, he can go on believing me for the rest of my life. Why, he couldn't do a thing like that. Yeah, couldn't, maybe, but he's doing it. I'd rather die than go on like this. For nearly two years now, every penny I've been able to get my hands on has gone right to Carson. And the only way I can beat him is to die. No, Miss Moran. I think it's going to be much simpler than that. And not nearly so painful.

Mary? Yes, Joe. You are about to become a thief. Oh? Yes. I hope you do a good job of it. What plan has Joe Wood decided upon to beat Carson...

We'll find out in the second act of our story, but right now, here's a message from our sponsor. And now, for the second act of Sauce for the Goose, we go to the Personnel Investigation Bureau. Mr. Carson, the owner of the bureau, has a caller. It's Joe Wood, who seems to have a problem.

That's why I'm suspicious of her, Mr. Carson. I can't get any proof, but I'd almost be willing to swear she's been doctoring my books and robbing me blind. You came to the right place, Wood. I've caught more thieves than the whole police force in this town put together. You know how I do it? No. How? By making it easy for them to steal when they think there isn't a chance of getting caught.

What's this girl's name? Mary Barnes. I'll catch her for you. Don't worry any more about it. And I'll be able to get quite a bit of the money back for you. You, uh, understand my fee? Fifty percent? Oh, that's quite all right. That's cheap, one way you look at it. Now, I'll have to pose as a client of yours. I'll make my payments in cash to Miss Barnes. I won't wait for any receipt. We'll have an open and shut case. Yes, but what if she won't pay up? Oh, she'll pay, all right.

They all do. You sent for me, Mr. Carson? Yes, Miss Barnes. Something about your case? Sit down, Miss Barnes. Thank you. Miss Barnes, how much money have you stolen from Mr. Wood altogether? What?

I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, yes, you do. And it isn't going to be tough to find out because you're really guilty. What do you mean, really guilty? Now, look here, Miss Barnes. You've been framed and caught. I gave you a $50 payment to Mr. Wood yesterday, and you didn't enter it in the book. Well, you said you didn't want any receipt. Right. I wanted to see what you'd do. You couldn't prove you'd paid it. Oh, yes, I could. It

It was Wood's money. The bills were marked. Oh, you dirty, scheming crook. Now, now, Blondie, that kind of talking will get you anywhere. What have you taken from them altogether? Nothing. I haven't taken anything. How much, Blondie? There's a jail cell waiting for you if you make it too low. I... I...

$7,000. What? $7,000. And he'd never have caught me if it hadn't been for you. Sister, I'm going to send you to jail for a long, long time. Don't make me laugh. You won't do any laughing, Blondie. Not when you're behind bars. You're having a chance. You seem kind of sure of yourself. I am. Why?

With what I know about Wood's clients, he's never dared get me into court. I talk and talk plenty. Wood isn't the guy who'd take you to court, sister. I'm the one. Oh. You mean you... I mean I'm in charge of this case. Wood doesn't have anything to say about it. He pays me half of what I recover. That's all. But you... Isn't there some way... Turn over that 7,000 bucks to me and I don't care what happens.

There's only one place where I can get it. Where's that? From Wood. You're crazy. Oh, no, I'm not. The man he helped in the big swindle case is coming in tomorrow with $8,000. But what's the... Why do you care where I get the money? Just so you get yours. Maybe you're right.

But now, if you'll just sign this confession. No. Uh-uh. No dice. Nothing doing. Either you sign or... Be yourself, Mr. Carson. I'm not signing anything. You want the dough? You'll get the dough. Tomorrow.

Well, Miss Barnes, I see you brought your employer with you. Hello, Carson. It's no use, Mr. Carson. He knows everything. Oh, so he found out about you, hmm? About us, Mr. Carson. About what? About us. Get your coat, Carson. We're going down to the police station. He made me confess everything, Mr. Carson. What's this all about? I won't go anywhere with you. Take it easy, Carson. Unless you want a ride to the morgue in a dead wagon. Miss

Miss Barnes confessed. Oh. Oh, confessed. Well, that's fine. I expected to get her signed confession today anyway, but take your hand out of your pocket. We're going to the station, Carson. I said she'd confess everything. That

That confession will put you in jail, or I'm badly mistaken. You won't be out of your head. I'm sorry, Carson. I had to tell him. He forced me to. I don't know what you're getting at. He got it all out of me. All about how you made a deal with me to go on stealing his money and split with you. What? Are you a dirty little liar? You can't call me... He didn't leave out a thing, Carson. He told me how you made a deal with her to go to work until she could steal enough from me to make this case worth your while. Oh, she's lying. Get out, Carson. No funny business.

You're in a spot, bud. A bad spot. You can't... I said sit down. All right. Now, I'm going to give you a chance to come clean. How much have you and this girl stolen from me altogether? You're crazy. Oh, no, I'm not. I know exactly how much you've taken. I...

I'm giving you your chance. Why, I didn't... I mean, I never... You've already taken $1,700 of my money, haven't you? That's a bare-faced lie. I've never even touched any of your money. This girl is trying to rope me in to make things easier for herself. Mr. Carson, I had to tell Mr. Woods everything. You might as well come clean. But I didn't. I tell you what... Come on. We're going over to the police station. Wait a minute.

This is ridiculous. I'm not laughing. Come on. You couldn't prove I'd taken up any of your money. Ah, but we'll talk that over at the station. The judge will decide whether she gave you any of my money. But you can't take me to court. Oh, no? Why, you'd ruin me. My business... You mean the publicity wouldn't be good for you? No employer would sign a contract with me. He'd think I was working with the thieves in his firm instead of trying to find them. All I want is my $1,700.

Well, I told you I don't have your $1,700. I never heard of such a thing. I did. I heard of it. You? Yes, me, Nancy Moran. You ought to remember me pretty well. I never forget a thief. I ought to punch you in the nose for that, Carson. You too.

You took $1,700 away from this girl. $1,000. And she stole them from her employer. She admitted it. I have her signed confession. Well, if she's already paid back the money, what are you doing with her signed confession? Why, she hasn't paid all the expenses on the case yet. Mm-hmm. Your blackmail scheme's all wound up, Carson. It isn't a blackmail scheme. It's a perfectly legitimate business. There's nothing legitimate about it. In the first place, you know that your evidence wouldn't stand up in any court in the country. Oh, yes, it would.

I have signed confessions. Yeah, and those confessions are secured by what the law calls entrapment. You know that our courts aren't interested in convicting people by inducing them to make mistakes. You make it easier for the poor people you trap to keep the money than to turn it in. You actually persuade them to steal. They sign those confessions in agreement to their own free will. That's a rotten racket, Carson. It's one of the worst I've ever seen. Yes, you give them a choice, all right. A

A choice of going to jail or paying you blackmail money for the rest of their lives. If they aren't dishonest, I don't hurt them. I never did a dishonest thing in my life. You frame me and you know it. They all talk like that. Now look, Carson, I won't beat around the bush. You're being blackmailed yourself right now. What do you mean? Well, Miss Barnes has given me a signed confession that

That she was splitting the money she stole from me. Splitting it with you. But that's a lie. Sure, it's a lie. And, uh, you want to know something else, pal? What? She never even stole any money from me. It's crooked. You couldn't get away with it. I never knew it to fail. A crook always hollers for the law the minute somebody else puts a squeeze on him. Oh, no. You aren't entitled to any protection, Carson. All right.

Now, I won't ask for any. But get this. You take me into court and the girl goes right along with me. Send me to jail and you have to send her, too. Yes, again, Carson.

I bring an action against you for the recovery of my money. I don't have to bring any action against Mary unless I feel like it. And I don't feel like it. You couldn't collect 1,700 cents. No, but I could cause you an awful lot of trouble. I don't imagine you'd be too happy to have the authorities looking into your affairs. I'm within the law. Oh, no, you're not, Carson. I've got you on compounding a felony. What? Yes. When you...

When you sent Mary back to get $7,000, you thought she was going to get it by stealing it from me. And yet you told her to do it. You couldn't prove that either. I suppose you deny it. I don't have to deny it, Blondie. You're not up against a half-wit, Wood. The things I put in writing are all legal. The things I say? Well, I don't have to be very fussy when I'm dealing with a lot of crooks. Meaning you work your blackmail racket on people who don't dare go to court because

Because you're holding their signed confession. So what? So now you're going to be hauled into court on a charge of stealing $1,700 from me. $1,700? Why don't you make it $50,000 while you're at it? Make it good. I made it $1,700 because that's the amount you bled Nancy Moran for. How touchy. Look, I still have my hand in my pocket, and I'm not fooling. Now, you either pay up, or we take you over to the police station. All right, Wood. You win.

I'll pay the $1,700. It's worth more than that to me to keep the police from getting nosy. Just a minute. No funny business. There you are. $1,700. Count it if you like. Count it, Mary. Okay. And, uh, you're forgetting something else, Carson. Yeah? What's that? That signed confession of Miss Moran. But I don't... You don't think we'd leave that in your hands, do you? Now come across, or else... All right.

There it is. Thanks. The money's all here, Joe. Give it to Nancy Moran. Thanks again. And now, get out. All of you. I never want to see... No chance. We're glad to be here. Come on. Hi. Oh, pardon me. What the hell? Inspector Slappery, I believe. Yeah. Hello, Joe. Fancy seeing you here. How are you, Miss Barnes? Just fine, Inspector. Never bet it. What's this all about? Joe, we

Would you by any chance be the guy who made that anonymous phone call to me? Why, Inspector, what are you talking about? I got a call that if I'd stand out in the hall at 1015 Layton Square Building, I'd get an earful. And I sure been getting it. And then, Sam...

Enough to put this guy Carson out of circulation for 50 years. Why, you... Get him, Flannery, get him. The fire escape. He's heading for the fire escape. He's going to get away down the fire escape. No, no, Miss Barnes, don't look. Well, I guess the old one still goes. Who is that? It's always good to look before you leave. The End

The End

The End

The End

Night 8.

Hi, this is Randy Stone. I cover the Nightbeat for the Chicago Star. Stories start in many different ways. This one began with a guy going fishing and ended with that same guy being kidnapped and held prisoner by a whole town.

A guy I think the world of. One Randy Stone, a square. Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone. The remnants of my so-called vacation this summer were spent at a fishing lodge near Duluth, Minnesota.

It was the ideal spot for a jaded journalist to relax. No newspaper, no radio, no shaving. Nothing. Idle talk was punishable by solitary confinement in the boathouse. And fish, there were tons of it. Some of them this big. Not to mention the ones that got away.

My cabin came equipped with a French Indian guide who could fry those fish like nobody's business. Come and get it, Mr. Stone. Magic words, Lebois. You catch them, I cook them. Stone? Mr. Stone? Somebody call you from the main watch. I go see. Mr. Stone's wanted an encounter...

Chicago calling, Mr. Stone. Chicago? Tell them I'm not here. I'm gone for the day. Okay, with me, but they said it's urgent. Yeah, well, tell them you couldn't find me. It's a Mr. Burton that's calling. My city editor? What does he want? Where are you going? Like you said, I'll tell him. Wait a minute, wait a minute. I'll tell him myself. Civilization, I cursed the tentacles of the telephone system that could smoke you out of paradise itself.

I wish I had the guts not to take the call, but we're all slaves to the telephone one way or another. After all, you never know what might be at the other end. I hiked across the clearing of the main lodge and into the big empty lobby. The phone was still off the hook. Hello? Randy, this is Burton. Mr. Stone is not here. He was last seen chasing a city editor through the forest with a tomahawk. How are the fish biting? Just fine. I'll tell him you called. Bye. Hold on, Randy.

How far are you from Duluth? Oh, 40, 50 miles wide. Remember that Pierce kid who shot the gas station mechanic a couple of weeks ago? Well, you see Canfield on the police beat. It wasn't my story. I know it wasn't, but do you remember him? Yeah, I remember. What about him? He escaped a couple of days ago, got out of the hospital ward. Oh, thanks for calling. I'll do my best to avoid him. His family lives in a town north of Duluth, Pierceville. Can't be very far from where you are. He may be headed there.

Well? Why don't you drive up there, Randy, and look around? Some beautiful women in those small towns. Hmm. His name's Einar Pierce. Stands 6'1", 24 years old, fair hair. Yeah, I know what he looks like. You had him all over the front page for two days. Get out there right away, will you? You're asking me or telling me? Okay, I'm asking you. Well, that's nice. Yes, Mr. Burton. Get going. Get going.

LeBois told me how to get to Pierceville, but he frowned at the idea of me going out there. He told me the whole town was full of Pierces and that they weren't too friendly if your name wasn't Pierce. I climbed up and down hills for a couple of hours, and then from the crest of one of those miniature mountains, I saw a small cluster of buildings. Pierceville. I crawled down the side of the hill in low gear and hit the main street. The place seemed deserted, so I pulled up in front of the general store. A couple of men watched me as I got out of the car and...

When I walked into the store, they turned away from their window and stared at me. There was an Ichabod Crane character behind the counter. Something for you, mister? Yeah, a cold drink, anything at all. Orange? Very fine. Any place a guy can get some supper? Nope. No cafe in town. Ain't that right, Gus? That's right.

There's no hotel, neither. We don't cater much to the tourist trade. Yes, it's easy to see. What happens if a guy wants to stay over? You just don't. That's nice and cozy. Maybe you need a passport to drive through your town. Not if you're passing through. If I was you, I'd get going. Them roads is hard to drive at night. Mind if I use your telephone? It ain't working. Hello? He's not here yet, Mr. Pierce.

Yeah, he is. Just stopped in for a minute. He's leaving now. That's right.

I thought that phone was out of order. You can call in, but not out. Well, do you mind if I try? I've got away with broken down telephones. Keep away from it. I see. Somehow I knew you'd say that. Pete! Get out there and head him off, quick. Right. Hey. The fellow out there in that car, that's him. Einar Pierce. Hold him! Stay put, mister. That's the gun I got in my hand. A real one with bullets and all. Are you crazy? That's Einar Pierce. He's wanted for murder in Chicago. Let me get the sheriff and... Just stay where you are.

Well, I can't argue with a gun. Now, get moving. Into the back room. You know what you're doing, fella? You're helping a murderer escape. You're mistaken, mister. Now, get moving. Sit down on that nail cake. You can't let that guy get away. He's a killer. He shot a man during a holdup. You realize what that makes you? Shut up. Listen, guys, put down that gun. Let me get out of here. Some other time, not today. Mister, you're holding me against my will. You know what the law calls that? Kidnapping. Kidnapping.

Maybe you'd like me to tell you about some of the penalties for kidnapping? Save your breath, mister. I know all about it. I ought to. See, I'm a sheriff. I don't know whether I was being kidnapped or pinched, but with that .45 staring me in the face, I wasn't asking any questions.

The big guy who said he was sheriff kept me there about ten minutes, and then he steered me out the back door and followed me up a gravel pathway that stopped in front of a two-story frame house. He knocked on the door. Yes? He's here, Paul. Bring him in. Go on. What you doing, Mr., uh... The prisoner's name is Stone, Randy Stone. Mr. Stone.

Are you with the Duluth police force? I'm not a policeman. I'm a newspaper reporter. He's a tricky one, Pa. You come looking for Einar? Yeah, I should have brought a troop of infantry with me. He recognized him in the car. That's too bad. But it's not to be helped, I guess. Oh, by the way, Mr. Stone, I'm Rolf Pierce. This is my son, Gus. Oh, I've met him on the wrong end of a gun. Gus, go see your ma. She's asking for you. Take my gun, Pa. Keep your eyes on it. I will, boy. I will.

Uh, Mr. Pierce. Now, your son, Gus, who calls himself Sheriff... He is Sheriff, Mr. Stone. Well, if he is, a lot of the rest of you are getting yourselves into an awful mess. I know Pierce is wanted for murder. To help him get away adds up to some serious complications. Not to mention the fact that I'm being held a prisoner. It was bad luck for us when you came along.

Well, I don't get it. Your son is sheriff and still you're willing to let him ruin his life. And at this minute, Einar's making good his escape. You're wrong about that, Mr. Reporter. Einar will not run away. He's a desperate man, Mr. Pierce. You don't know what he's liable to do. But I do know, Mr. Stone. You see, Einar is my son, too. A nice little trio. Einar Pierce wanted for murder, his brother the sheriff, and his old man keeping him out of the hands of the law.

Gus came downstairs after a while and sat opposite me, his gun in his hand. Then the front door banged open and the old man got up. That you, Einar? Yeah. Me. Who's this guy? This is Mr. Stone, Einar. Officer Stone, you mean. He is no cop, Einar. He writes for the papers. Just as bad? Newspapers have been pretty good to some criminals. You'll not refer to my son as a criminal, Mr. Stone. Why don't you let the court judge that?

Can't you see what you're doing? Keep minding your own business, mister. He'll get to court in good time. At midnight, we'll be turning him over to the police from Duluth. You're going to turn him over? I kept telling myself, get home, I know you'll be all right. They'll never get you. When I get home, so what? My own family turns on me. I know better than those I run away from. You shouldn't be the one to talk about family. Okay, brother Gus. Go ahead and play sheriff. Turn me over to the cops so I can fry. Okay.

Just so long as I don't hurt the family's pride. A piercer be beholden to no man. A piercer run away from nothing. Not even death itself. Einar, I'll ask you to remember we've a guest in the house. Maybe I'd better go out and sit on the porch a while. No guest of mine sneaking, prying reports. You've said enough. I'll say more. No, you won't. Not if I have to. What? Will you shut up? No. You're all a bunch of hypocrites, including Prague. You'll be sorry for that, Gus. You had it coming, Einar. We'll see about that.

Where's Nancy? In her room. I hate to interrupt a family reunion, but if you folks will excuse me... Oh, yes, of course. You must be tired, Mr. Stone. I'll show you up to a room where you can rest a bit. Yes, that's a good idea. Einar's got better manners than he led you to believe, Mr. Stone. I guess he's a little excited with the wedding and all.

The wedding? Oh, didn't I tell you? Oh, no, no. It's more fun to be surprised. Come seven o'clock, Ina and Nancy are getting married here in this house. And with that little item for the society page, the old man left me. It was a nice little room, locked door and all.

I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to puzzle it out. It was a group of people, all seemingly decent, respectable folks, digging themselves into a mess which included murder and kidnapping. What? The sound in the next room interrupted my mental gymnastics. It was a woman crying. I couldn't figure out why the sound seemed so close, and then I saw a hole cut in the wall a little over my bed.

It was meant for a stovepipe to go through, but it served even better as a peephole. By standing up on the bed, I could see clearly into the next room. There was a girl in there, standing in the middle of the floor, crying her heart out. Einar Pierce was pacing up and down in front of her. I pulled my head a little to one side so that I couldn't be seen. Oh, Nancy, please stop your crying. Oh, wedding day, Einar.

What a wedding day. Well, it don't have to be like Pa wants, honey. Do what I say. Come with me tonight and they'll never get us. And hide out the rest of our lives. What about your father? What would it do to him if you were to run out on him? Oh, the island will be our own. Nobody knows about it but me, Nancy. They can look for us until doomsday and not find us. No, we couldn't do that to your folks. We'd never be happy if we did. You know us. No, I never. We'll have to wait. And you're... I'm what, Nancy? I killed a man!

And give me the chair. Can't you understand? I can get away tonight. I've got it all planned. The boat will be waiting. Nancy, if you love me, you'll come with me. I love you, I know, but I can't. All right, then I'll go myself. If you want to tell them where I am, go ahead and do it. Where are you going, I know? To get cleaned up for my wedding. Nice wedding. A ring for the bride's finger, another one for the groom's neck. I know. Yes, that's the way it happens in real life. None of those clearly defined black and white good and bad storybook characters...

but mixed up flesh and blood human beings. I lay down on my bed and tried to figure them out.

to figure exactly what kind of part I played in their crossword puzzle. And I keyed turn in the lock of my door, and Mr. Pierce came into the room. Have a good rest, Mr. Stone. Not bad. Mind if I sit down? Well, that's what I call a courteous approach to a prisoner. You'd make a fine warden, Mr. Pierce. I'd rather think of you as my guest than my prisoner. Okay, warden, have it your way. I've got to have a wee talk with you. I want to remind you, Mr. Stone...

That when this is over and you make your report to the police, this whole thing's my doing. Nobody else's. Well, it's not that simple. As far as I can see, you've had lots of help. The whole town, I might say, not excluding the sheriff. I've been giving the orders, Mr. Stone. I see. Now that you understand that, I'm asking you to attend my son's wedding on one condition. And that is? That you talk to no one about Ina. That you'll not mention a word of it to Ina's mother.

And if I don't promise? I'll keep you locked up till the dance is over. The dance? Well, you didn't think there'd be a Pierce wedding without a dance, did you? There'll be the whole countryside at the town hall tonight. Well, what do you say? Supposing I tell you that Ina's planning to get away tonight? As my guest, I'd say you're mistaken. As a prisoner, I'd say you were a liar. I suppose I couldn't convince you that he is. No. I'm waiting for your answer. Will you be my guest? Yes.

Well, under the circumstances, yes. You say that Ina's mother doesn't know about this? No. She's been spared. Now, if you'll come with me, I'll have you meet her. She heard your voice downstairs, and we had to tell her that you were one of Ina's friends from Chicago. You'll bear me out on that, won't you? I'll do my best. Come, lady. How do you expect to keep it from us sooner or later? The good Lord's arranging for that, Mr. Stone.

She's dying. NBC is bringing you Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone. Here's a note for Sunday listening on most NBC stations. David Niven and Geraldine Fitzgerald will co-star in Sunday's Theatre Guild on the Air production of I Know Where I'm Going.

Make a note to hear David Niven and Geraldine Fitzgerald in this great drama Sunday on Theater Guild. Theater Guild is heard immediately after Tales of the Texas Rangers, which stars Joel McRae. Sunday, it's Tales of the Texas Rangers, then Theater Guild. Both fine shows for you to hear. Now back to Nightbeat and Randy Stone.

After I picked my heart up off the floor, we walked downstairs to Mrs. Pierce's room. There was nothing left to say. I stood alone in the doorway and watched the old man walk over to his wife's bed as though it were a shrine. She opened her eyes slowly and the stamp of death was in them. She was past pain already, and if her voice was slow and halting, there was a serene dignity about her that seemed pretty close to this thing we call happiness. Father? Hey, Mother.

I thought you might be sleeping. Sleeping? With my son's wedding in our way? Hello there, young man. Hello, ma'am. You're Einar's friend from the city, aren't you? They work together in Chicago, mother. Yes, that's right, ma'am. We were very good friends. I'm so happy you could come. And you'll not be angry with us for keeping him here? He belongs with his folks, you know. Oh, yes, yes. He belongs with us. The land's waiting for him.

And Nancy, to make him a home and give him children. Poor Arthur, that she is. With no folks to be at her wedding. Nancy came to our house when she was just a baby. And from the first time we saw them standing together, we knew they was to be married one day. And this is it, their wedding day. How long before the preacher will be here? A little more than an hour, mother. You'd best have a nap now till he comes. A nap?

Goodness, it'll take me that long to make myself pretty for the wedding. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place now. Only from where I was sitting, the picture was beginning to look like a king-sized lump in my throat. The old man was holding Ina until he could get her married off to Nancy, taking a chance on going to prison himself just so he could give his wife something she had to have before she died. I got to feeling mean and ugly for butting in. All through the ceremony, I made myself as small as I could.

When it was over, the newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Einar Pierce stood around and accepted the sober congratulations of the few guests. And after supper, as sad a wedding feast as I've heard of, we all went down to town hall. The old man and young Einar and Nancy stood near the doorway to receive the company. I sat against the wall right behind them.

The time of dancing was starting. Too many long faces around here, including yours, Einar. They stand there gawking at me. When they're out of hearing me say, look at him, the rotten, murdering thief they'll get. He'll get what's coming to him. Ah, Tosh, lad. There's no one here but wishes you luck. There's no one here that won't pray for you. Ah, there's more here that wish me the electric chair. You can see it in their faces. That'll be enough. You go to trial with the best lawyers that can be hired.

The judge will mark you for a fool, not a criminal. And they'll be fair to you. When are they coming for me? Midnight. Now then, folks, limber up. The dancing's about to commence. And first, of course, comes the bride and groom's special dragger, Mrs. Einar. Choose your partner, skip them a little. Choose your partner, skip them a little. Come on, come on, come on.

Go on, I know. They're waiting for you. I'm not dancing. I know. Please. Come on, Mr. Groom. We'll wear out a hole in the floor just standing here. Maybe he knows he ain't the boss anymore. Nancy, you bring him out. Go on, boy. Go on. I know. It's like walking behind your own coffin.

Come on, then. They started to dance, and in a few minutes, some of the younger kids joined them on the floor. Mr. Pierce came and sat down with me. Hey, are you enjoying yourself? It's an experience I'll never forget, I'll tell you that. Well, now, if you take a liking to some of the girls, ask them to dance. Oh, there comes Gus. I've been wondering about him. Everything's all right, Paul.

Ma said she can hear the music from the house. Sounds fine. I wish she could be here with us. She said to tell you that she was standing at your side. Thank you for telling me, son. Did you phone the police in Duluth? Yes, sir.

Take him a couple of hours to get out here. Gus. Yes, Mr. Stone? Can I talk to you for a minute alone? I guess so. Let's go outside. What'd you want to see me about? Ina. What about him? Ina's gonna try and make a break for it. What makes you think so? I heard him tell Nancy he was to some island. Oh, he said that 50 times today, but he won't try. Oh, yes, he will.

He's not like you and your father. Frankly, that's why I'm thinking about your dad. You think I'd walk out on his dad knowing the old man would be held responsible? That's exactly what I'm saying. Mister, you don't know us pisses. What you're trying to say should get you a punch in the nose. Okay. Okay. But keep your eye on him. Now get out of my way. When I got back into the hall, they were finishing the square. It was nice to watch.

11 o'clock, the big clock on the wall said. I moved up close to Ina and his wife. If he was going to try to get away, it would have to be soon. The music blared up and suddenly Ina grabbed hold of his wife's arm and stared her onto the floor. A frightened look came into her eyes and she tried to pull back, but Ina whispered something to her and she let herself be led away. I know that something was going to happen. I wanted to be near and try and stop it. I walked up to a gorgeous brunette standing against the wall, the girl who'd been singing a while ago.

May I have this dance, please? Love to. First time you've danced tonight, isn't it? Yeah, I... I was afraid you girls wouldn't dance with a foreigner in Chicago. Well, come on. A one and a two and a three and a four. Hey, hey, wait a minute. Take it easy, you know. I kind of knew it. This better? Yeah, yeah, for a beginner. Isn't it sad? About Einar and Nancy, I mean. Yeah. Mind if we dance a little closer?

Not at all. No, no, no. No, I'm to them. That door there, they're near now. Where does that go to? Downstairs, the basement. Why? Oh, nothing, nothing. I'm just curious. Can you get out of the building through the basement? Yeah. Why do you ask? You don't think... Oh, how can I think, lady, with you in my arms? The dance was over. I thanked my partner and leaned against the wall, watching Inair.

He said something to Nancy, and then as casually as if he were going for a drink of water, he slipped through the door leading to the basement. As fast as I could, I followed him. I turned the door, and Arby locked the door behind me. I went out the side way, ran around to the back of the building. Then I saw him moving toward a clump of bushes. He heard me. He turned around. A piece of lead pipe in his hand made a wicked silhouette in the moonlight. It's you. You better get back in there with your dad, Arnie. Keep away from me. Come one step closer, and I'll kill you. Don't be a fool, Arnie.

I can let out one holler, everybody in the dance hall will come running out. And your father will know you tried to sneak out on him. Maybe I'd better make sure you can't holler. Try to stop me. Let go. Oh, you can't run out on your dad. I won't let you do it. All right, then. Take this. I know. Now put that down. Gus. Put down that pipe. I'm getting away from here, Gus. Not while I've got this gun you want. You wouldn't. You wouldn't use that on me, your own brother. Wouldn't I? Gus.

I wouldn't believe Mr. Stone when he said that you were planning a getaway. When I saw you out here, I wanted to kill you. Why didn't you? Might as well. Because Pa wants you to decide when the police come for you. Are you all right, Mr. Stone? Yeah, yeah, but why didn't I see that city editor of mine? I'll take Einar into Pa now. I'll come back and look after you. Come on, Einar. Come on.

Gus came back and he nursed the lump on my head until it felt a little better. You think you can make it now? Paul's been asking for you. Did you tell him about Ina? I couldn't bring myself to do it. Well, I'm glad you didn't. Let's not tell him. Tell him that I tried to get away and you had to slug me. Paul will feel hurt pretty bad. He's trusted you. You'll feel worse if he finds out how I really got it. Ina.

There was hurt and disappointment in the old man's eyes when Gus told him I'd tried to run out on him. And something strange had happened to Weiner. He stood quietly beside his father, his head bowed. It was a little before 12 now. Gus walked over to the orchestra and spoke to the dance caller. Then the drummer crashed the cymbals for attention. Attention, folks. We're leaving now, so you'll pay your respects to the host and guest of honor as you file out. I love you.

Good night, Mr. Pierce. Good night. One by one, the couple shuffled past the little group and made their awkward speeches. The old man stood tall and straight and accepted their thanks with a quiet degree. Congratulations, Nancy. N.R. stared straight ahead of him and spoke to no one, and Nancy kept her eyes glued on the floor and cried without tears. Well, Mr. Pierce, me and my boys will be getting home. Thank you, Pete.

You played mighty fine tonight. Well, thank you. Come on, boys. And good luck to all of you. Thanks. You'll close that door behind you, please. It's midnight. Oh, I know. Don't cry, Nancy. I don't want to see you crying when I go. I'll try not to. You here, Gus? Let him come in. No. He'll come out to them. Tell him he'll come out himself. All right. Nancy? Nancy?

Look at me. Pick your head up. Yes, I know. I love you, Nancy. More than you've reason to believe. I hope I can come back to you someday and prove it to you. I'll be here, waiting. Pa, I... What is it, son? I don't know how to say it, but, Pa, I'm awful proud of you. And will you pray for me like you promised? I'll pray for you. They're getting impatient, Gus. Before I go, Gus, I gotta tell you... Never mind, Ina.

I understand. Thank you, Mr. Stone. Me? Thanks for... You know what I mean. Yeah, I know. Yes! You'd better go now, Sutton. Yeah. I better. Well, it's three weeks now since all that happened, and I'm back on the job again. Turning out the required amount of grist for my nightly stint.

But every time I close my eyes, I can see the picture of old Mr. Pierce standing straight and proud while his son walked out of the door to the waiting cops. And a thought comes over me that's kind of tough to put into words. It's, uh, well, it's that God created more majesty in a man like old Mr. Pierce than he did in all of his other works put together. We kind of forget sometimes what real greatness is made of.

Yep. Copy, boy. Oh.

Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy, is produced and directed by Warren Lewis. Tonight's story was written by Lou Russoff, with music by Frank Worth. Mr. Pierce was played by Bill Johnstone, and Bill Conrad was Gus. Others in tonight's cast were Lamont Johnson, Harley Bear, Vic Perrin, Helen Marr Van Tile, and Georgia Ellis. The folk singer was Terry Ali.

Frank Lovejoy may currently be seen in Milton Sperling's production, Three Secrets, released by Warner Brothers. ♪♪ Listen next week at this time, and every week, as Randy Stone searches through the city for the strange stories waiting for him in the darkness. ♪♪

Nightbeat came to you from Hollywood. Three chimes mean good times on NBC. Tomorrow's radio fair on most NBC stations includes the premiere of two programs. Hedda Hopper brings you personalities from the motion picture world in her new program tomorrow. Be sure to listen, and listen to for Noah Webster Says. That's Hedda Hopper and Noah Webster Says. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company. ♪♪

And now, the old studio clock on the wall tells us that it's that time again. It's nightfall, and Nightfall Mystery Theater is here to scare you half to death. It's summer, so how'd you like to go on vacation? Forever. A new play by Janet Benelli is our presentation tonight. Its title, In the Name of the Father. Its moral, Still waters do indeed run deep.

Listen now, if you dare. Hello? Hello? Hello, are you free? Excuse me, is your cab free? I want to go to Cup 6-M. Oh, do you know the distance? It's a long way, you know.

I'm free, all right, but it'll cost you. I know it's a long way. How much is your flat rate? Fifty. At least fifty. And I won't get a return fare, so it's double. Oh, come on. I have friends in Halifax. They said maybe sixty or seventy at the most. So let your friends drive you there. I'll say eighty-five. And that's it. Well, I guess I don't have much choice, do I? Okay. Eighty-five.

Give me a hand with my luggage, will you? It was a bad summer. It had started late, like it was too tired to get up and get hot and get on with it. But I needed a holiday. And my Halifax friends had recommended Comfort's End, a coastal community with lovely scenery, low prices, and decent people who minded their own business.

Well, I didn't know that part of the province, but I desperately needed a few fresh air-filled weeks by the sea. And then I saw the rocks. You going to Comfort Sand on business? Oh, no. No, it's a holiday. Oh, yeah? Well, not much to do there. Wouldn't be my choice of a holiday spot if I was a young lady. My friends tell me it's quite beautiful. Isn't the town some sort of historical site? Oh, never heard that one. A lot of superstition, but no real history, I don't think.

No place for a holiday as far as I'm concerned. Well, I'm a writer, and the place we pass in Central Drama is interesting. I'm sure I'll like it. Besides, I don't enjoy places where people spend their nights in bars and things for their vacations. Oh, yeah? Where are you staying? Well, my friends, the people in Halifax, they booked a room for me with a family called Wicklow. Do you know where their house is? Oh, yeah.

I know it. It took us about an hour to get there. And all along the way, I saw the rocks. They were large, flat, shapeless, smooth and gray as a winter sky. And beyond the rocks was the ocean, deep and half-asleep. Black glass disturbed only by the occasional curlew fishing for lunch. Or, once, cut in parallel stripes by half a dozen bleak, unbending fins. Oh, look, look! What?

Look at those sharks. Oh, lots of swimming things out in these parts. Fish and everything in the water out here. And suddenly I didn't like it. Dark waves, a low, low sky, both splashing and drizzling on those flat, gray rocks. I didn't like it. And something told me to turn back. I couldn't. And this was, of course, long before I knew anything about the people and their damnable, dreadful christening Sunday. Are these good friends that sent you out to the ends of the earth for your vacation?

The money's hard to place the same as anyone, I think. My friends speak very highly of the Wicklows. I gather the food at their place is very good. Oh, Nan Wicklow has a reputation for her cooking. Whatever else happens, you'll be fed, all right. As we approached the town, it appeared to be even prettier than I'd imagined. My apprehension faded for a while, caught up in the atmosphere. Oh, the houses were so old, they'd sunk beneath the street, so a person would have to step down to get into the entrance instead of stepping up.

And these signs dangled from wrought iron arms in strange shapes like snail patterns. They said things like traps sold, fresh lobster nets mended. And then, for people like me, souvenirs. Oh, thank you very much, miss. Planned to give me a guilt complex, did you? Well, that's very kind of you. Here's hoping the holiday's all it's cracked up to be. Well, here's my card.

Nan Wicklow can call me if you need transportation back. Well, here you are. We've been expecting you. We don't really get many visitors, although we're well equipped to hire them. Your form's very iris and seems like my ears. You may well put on a few pounds if you have a taste for seafood. Thank you.

It was everything Kate Ryerson had promised. That night we had tiny shrimp served with brown bread and sweet butter, smoked haddock and milk, scallops cracked at the edges in white wine sauce, blueberry muffins, and green beans that snapped in their dish. Late that night I sat on the veranda watching the street. There were lights in the harbor. There was a murmur of voices, but I couldn't see anyone. I'm breaking water.

Outside my window, the moonlight fell on the rocks. Slippery rocks bedded in bubbles and green pools of swimming things. I was the only guest in the house, but I knew there were other people. Nan Wicklow had a husband. Oh, and they both had a daughter. Her name was Callista. Hello there. I'm Callista Wicklow. I'll assume you're sleeping well.

People like that bedroom you're in. I like my mother's cooking, too. Although it's no time to go on a diet. Yeah, your mother's a sensational cook. And yes, yeah, I'm enjoying myself very much. So far. Yeah, well, of course, so far. We don't get many visitors. Certainly not at this time of year. Well, surely this is a good time. Late summer is good weather. It's an excellent time for scenery and good weather. That's why it's our time. We don't encourage strangers.

Well, not to make you feel unwelcome. You like people, and you're so pretty. You'll be well liked. I hope people like me. Although, I've been here almost a week, and I've never seen anyone outside of your mom and dad and a few men down by the harbor. Do the local people take their own vacations somewhere else in the area? It's a sort of vacation, I guess. But no one's gone away. And then I saw them. People in twos and threes, coming from a large building set high at the end of the street...

They were all walking together, talking together, laughing and waving back and forth. They're all women. Oh, my God, they're all pregnant. I knew fishermen were only home in the off season, but this is amazing. Come on, Al. Calista, did I imagine that? Isn't it wonderful? Next year, it will be my turn. Next year, she said, it will be my turn.

What turn? A turn at being popular? A turn at having babies? Callista was a talkative girl, yet she told me nothing. And far, far more interesting was the old man who came to stay at the Wicklow house on my seventh day in the town. His name was Mortimer. First name or surname, I never knew, but he was a professor with Dalhousie and he specialized in maritime biology. It's a good place to study ocean life here. There's no place better. And you, a writer, couldn't have picked a better spot?

Are you interested in the sea? Well, I haven't been before, but now, yes. And, well, when I drove from Halifax, I saw sharks. They were very close to the shore. It was a bit frightening. But I guess that's part of the ocean's attraction, beauty and fear. You're very lucky. There are not many people who see the sharks. Though porpoises come in by the dozens. But the sharks...

Yes, seeing them so close is a rarity. The ones that appear in this part of the world are usually mutations. Mutations? You mean like crossbreeding? They're not true sharks? Oh, there is no true shark, as you call it. You see, along the coast of every maritime state and province, there live a breed of aquatic creature called Silvacians. Now, some are recognizable to the layman, some are recognizable only to the scientist, and some are primordial lynx.

They have no name. Next year, it will be my turn. Lots of swimming kings out here. Well, we never hear much about there being sharks and strange fish in this part of the world. We, I mean me and people in the city. There's no need to apologize. I'm a city man.

There are scientists that claim sharks never travel in the depths. Yet a shark has been found recently two and a half miles down in the Atlantic, heavy with young, where the water pressure measures 5,900 pounds per square inch. Dogfish, hatched for centuries off the coast of South America, have been found breeding in the chilled waters of Antarctica. Strange things.

happen in the ocean. We'll never know it all. Copy? Mortimer kept me up to date on the fads and phobias of underwater life. Then Callista laughed enigmatically and added nothing to my store of knowledge except the speculation that she just might be as crossbred as Professor Mortimer's Salachians. She was just a little vague and out of touch. Days passed, nights passed, and I slept well because of the fresh air.

Then I slept lightly because of the voices. Then I didn't sleep. You don't look well, my dear one. Will you be packing up and I'll call that taxi man to take you back to the city. A few nightclubs will break me up again. No, that's the very thing I'm trying to avoid. And I never thought I'd hear a born-and-bred maritimer recommending the bright lights. I would have thought you'd be pushing me down to the harbor to breathe the cold sea air.

The low, cloud-colored sky drizzled steadily on those gray rocks. And I didn't like the town. I couldn't leave. Daddy? Zeta? It's okay, darling. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, can you? It's all right, love. You know...

One thing I really regret is that I never made you a grandfather. Now, I know it was important to you, and I know you should have been able to see the child your daughter would produce for you. And I would have picked a healthy man. I would. Are you laughing? Daddy? Squeeze my hand if you're laughing. No! Ida! You died! Oh, it's only a thunderstorm. I'm here. It's only a storm. It's okay. Really, I'm okay. I just...

I had a nightmare and I'm all right now. Would you just leave me alone? Sorry, I just... I just wish that I could look out the window and see something else besides those damn bloody rocks. Now, why would you say that? And they're so beautiful. It was less than three days before I planned to leave when things started to happen.

Suddenly, going towards the harbor on my ritual walk, doors were opened. Things were sold, nets were mended, and fresh lobster floundered in a tub. The fishermen were unusually animated and talked amongst themselves. And there was a man that looked like Mortimer touching up the paint on the run runner. He was up on the prow of the ship, painting great black eyes and jagged teeth. I really thought he was mad. I mean, painting eyes and a mouth on that poor old boat. Oh, nothing wrong with that, dear.

He's well accepted around here now. Professor Mortimer is one of us, and he only needs to help. Have a bit more? Oh, thank you, I will. It's an old superstition in Comfort's End that the folks must be armed against the enemy, against things in the sea that could overcome us. More tea? She served me rainbow trout nestled in a bed of new PEI potatoes, heavy with salt and butter.

For dessert, I was given a choice of cheese and a tray of home-baked oatmeal cakes. Calista was unusually quiet until... It's that helmet. Don't go out. It's birth night. What did you say? Calista? What? She's a foolish girl. Turkey on her last birthday. We have to keep her home. It was almost fun coming to the hospital tonight, Dad. Some, uh...

Woman in maternity had quadruplets. Oh, well, newspapers are here. People from the television. You know, giving birth is big news in a hospital, I guess. How are you feeling, darling? Squeeze my hand if you're okay. Dad, squeeze my hand. We weren't finished, Daddy. We weren't finished.

You left me and it wasn't over yet. I don't care what you say. I was born here and even I can find the town moody and depressing. You dry your tears and I'm phoning your taxi driver friend to come out tomorrow and take you back to Halifax. Not a word now. That's what's happening. Now get into the lounge and Calista will bring you and the professor a nice cup of coffee.

Um, Callista said it was birth night. Ah. Is there such a thing? I mean, does that mean things in the ocean breed at this time of year or what? Well, considering I'm leaving soon, I feel I'm entitled to know what makes this community tick. Yes, um, people around here do believe that things happen at this time. Old wives' tales and superstition, call it what you... Here, now, for example...

People like to think of the sharks as leaders of the local lifestyle. The symbols of the community, you might say. Good luck charms for childbearing. You know, the breeding habits of the male shark set it apart from the rest of the underwater world. If you ever saw one up close, you'd see that it had two claspers protruding from its side when the pelvic fins are stretched at right angles to the torso. Now, these claspers...

A thrust into the female's body, and the seminal fluid is injected under the skin. And a mating shark appears to be embracing the female. And, of course, it's quite capable of mating in this way with another species. Oh, sounds disgusting. Do you mean the male shark actually can, well, hook itself to another species for the purpose of mating? Is that what you're saying? Of course.

That's what you're saying, my dear. You know what imaginations you young writers have. If I read you a few more chapters out of my biology text... and left you listening to the oceans roll and the poor old foghorn... I bet you'd have a saleable horror story underway before dawn. Colorful imaginations, your stocking tray, not mine.

Is it one spoon of sugar or two? Oh, I listened to the old man until nightfall. And then I went up to my pretty room and cried. I liked that coral-gabled rooming house, and I liked my view. Dismal rocks and all. And what it came down to was I didn't want to leave. At all. I'd like to say I slept well. But the chanting kept me awake. And the waves and the rocks became louder and louder and louder.

until I knew that the shadows were more than moonlight. They were swimming things. They were creeping up out of the water, sitting on the rocks, touching them, tripping and sliding, streaking back along those seaweed slime paths, watching for seagulls, and finally disappearing through that black glass surface of saltwater bubbles. I'm sorry, my dear. The patient has expired.

Come on, dear. Scotch kippers and poached eggs. You won't get it this good in Halifax, despite what the tourist bureau says. Well, I've got to thank you, Nan. You've been very kind and patient. I realize I wasn't the best of houseguests. Rubbish! But just spell my name right when you put all your feelings into a short story or a play. Well, I'm sorry.

Well, I went down to the harbor to excuse me. I just wanted to say goodbye to everything. Will you tell the driver to wait? Okay, he'll be here in a minute. I wandered as far as that large building at the top of the street, the one which disgorged all the happy pregnant girls when I first arrived. It was a sort of church, it seemed, a kind of community hall, a vast auditorium. I went inside. There were bright green walls.

with black trim, scrolls everywhere on snail patterns. The windows were painted out, and the air, it was green and filtered like water under the sea, green and mottled. It was decayed light, and little twinkling candles in fragile, blown-glass lanterns, and high-backed chairs, and a sort of altar. I didn't mean to frighten you, my dear.

But now you're here, a little history of the place is called for. You see, to the primitive man, the shark is a vengeful god and cunning. He cannot be satiated by the occasional gift of a man. He demands extraordinary homage.

Sometimes natural rocks are used for stone altars and are the sites of mystic ceremonies. Who are we to question our ancestors? Who are we to deny our inheritance? No, no, Professor Mortimer, this is 1981. We are not in Samoa. I mean, we're not in ancient Tahiti. This is Nova Scotia. The people here, they're fishermen. Yes, they're childlike and they're superstitious, but they are not violent. They're

They're not frightening. They're not pagan. Don't be afraid, my dear. If you don't believe, you can leave. Remember, you have always had the right to leave. They're all down by the rocks now. They're down by the rocks now, she said. And they were. It was a clear day. Seagulls swooped down, antagonizing the curlews.

and bright black patent leather fins cut lines in the water, silver streaks among the dank gray rocks. And all those fine young women, thin now and red-cheeked, they were lying up against the tide with their blanketed bundles in their arms. The season be with us, and praise him for our own. The season be with us, and praise him for my time shall come. The season be with us, and praise him for he is the father's.

I watched. Fascinating. And terrifying. And a man suddenly stepped forward. It was Mortimer. He wore a white lace cassock. It was gleaming like his hair and lined with rows of green and blue stitching, deep sea colors. And his hands were paler.

In the name of the Father. In the name of his Son. Let it be the children. Who are buried in the kingdom. That's what I want to do. For they shall come. For they shall come. In the name of the Father. In the name of the Father.

Dead feet with no pads. Jagged edges for cutting feet. And straight, slime-colored slides on the bottomless pools to fall in. You see, when the wind came up, without learning, catching the pink and blue blankets of those young women, whipping them all like the eye of a slime, battering more hair in a sea-green cassock, I shielded my eyes.

And then I ran away. And the tide was full of swimming things. The bottom was touched with bubbles. I cut my feet. My stockings were blood-soaked. My hands were raw. And things in those rocks, they snatched out at me. They embraced me. They clung to my hair. They slipped across my lips and slid along my legs. I made it as far as the highway. A truck aimed for the city took pity on me and picked me up.

I never went back for my bag. How are we feeling now, dear? Do we feel like visitors? There's a Mrs. Wicklow outside to see us. She seems like a nice lady. Why do hospitals always operate on the royal we? And Mrs. Wicklow isn't here to see us. She's here to see me. Sorry, yes, I'll see her. And there are you, looking as pretty as ever.

I knew the mood of our part of the country was hard to take. I told you. Mrs. Wickliffe, did I really see it or did I imagine it? You didn't imagine anything, dear. It just had a nasty fall against a rock. And that's the way it's been. Oh, whenever I tell anyone about that christening Sunday... ...when the wind gathered in the little fishing community of Comfort's End...

and pulled out hair and hurt our eyes and forced the folds of those soft blue and pink christening blankets back for an instant in the arms of those bright-eyed young women. And whenever I try to explain about those bulging baby eyes and those fragile membrane fins pressed against those pale baby cheeks, they say I'm crazy and they turn away. Easy, dear. Take it easy. Remember, next summer...

It could be your turn. THE END

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪

You've been listening to In the Name of the Father by Janet Benelli, starring Dixie Seedle as Ada, with Chris Wiggins as Professor Mortimer, and Ruth Springford as Nan Wicklow. Nikki Guadagni was Callista, Hugh Webster was the cab driver, and Eve Crawford was Kate. The studio technician was our own Ray Fulcik, the sound effects were by Matt Wilcott, and the production assistant was Nancy McElveen.

This edition of Nightfall Mystery Theater was produced and directed by Stephen Katz. Arts Nationals Friday Night is produced by Philip Coulter with the assistance of Matthew Baird and Ray Falsick and support from the rest of the Arts National team, Neil Quarry, Barbara McKenzie, Srule Irving Glick, Lori Lockhart, and executive producer Keith Horner.

I'm Ian Alexander, inviting you to join us next Monday through Thursday for concerts and features from Guitar 84, plus a Friday night show including Music in the Life of Anna Russell, a Pops concert by String Band in Russia, more of Leon Bibb's Blues, and all our other features. Right now, stay tuned for the news, then Norris Bick from Calgary with some late night sounds, and after midnight, Ron Robinson's Nightlines from Winnipeg as the music continues on CBC Stereo.

The Colgate Palmolive Peat Company, makers of Halo Shampoo to glorify your hair, and Colgate Tooth Powder for a breath that's sweet and teeth that sparkle, bring you Mr. and Mrs. North, starring Alice Frost and Joseph Curtin. ♪♪

People like Pam and Jerry North enjoy living in New York because there's always something going on at any hour of the day or night. But if there's one time when the big city sleeps or even dozes off for a moment, it's in the wee hour just before dawn when the streets are deserted and your car is just broken down on the outskirts of town.

Oh, it's no use, dear. This thing wouldn't start if I gave it a dose of Benzedrine. I wish it stopped turning the motor over. I'm beginning to feel like a malted milk. Must be the distributor, or that float in the carburetor. Oh, no, it's the starter, Jerry. It keeps spinning around and around as if all the ice cream weren't melted. What ice cream? Well, I hadn't thought about the flavor. I suppose it's chocolate.

In the carburetor? Oh, is that what you call those things? What things? Those aluminum containers they mix mortars in. Darling, I'm talking about starting the car. Well, for goodness sake, what do you think I'm talking about? I don't know, dear. You haven't given me a clue. Jerry, where are you going? Well, we can't just sit here, Pam. I've got to find a garage or a telephone or somebody that'll give us a hitch to one. Everybody around here seems to be asleep. Oh, there must be some sign of life.

Other people drive home from late parties, don't they? Not along this road. There doesn't seem to be a single... Ah, a milk wagon. What are you so happy about? We don't want any milk. Hey there, hold up a second, will you? Oh, Nellie.

What's the trouble, mister? Run out of gas? Run out of engine, I think. Do you know where I can find a garage that's open at this time of the night? Well, now, I don't know as I can. I don't have much use for garages, you know. Not while there's good horses around. Now, you stop laughing, Nellie. You'll break down, too, once in a while. What's the matter, Jerry? Won't he help us? Oh, I'll help you, ma'am, as soon as I finish up my milk route.

Nellie won't mind taking you to a garage so long as you don't make her go in. The smell of gas gives her colic. I guess she doesn't even like to talk about it. She don't mind. Well, how long do you think it'll take you to finish? Oh, it won't be long. I haven't got but a few more calls to make. You just sit here in the wagon and wait for me. I'll be back in a minute.

Do you think we ought to, Jerry? Wait in the wagon? Why not? I don't know. It just seems kind of funny to be sitting in a milk wagon. I don't know a thing about cows. I don't either, dear, but I'd just as soon get home tonight. Come on. Let's be awfully lonely being a milkman. Leaving bottles at people's doors, sitting up here in the driver's seat. You never see anybody face to face. Not even the horse. Woo!

Will you please sit down and leave Nellie out of this? The first thing you know, I'll have to... You'll have to what? Stay where you are and don't make a sound. Well, Jerry... Shut up, I tell you. Jerry North, how dare you talk to me like that? I'm not talking, Pam. It's this manly-looking gentleman who's just stepped up to the wagon. Who's what? The one on your left with the scar on his face. And the long-nosed gun in his hand. Oh, how do you do? Keep your trap shut or you'll get hurt. Where's the milk? Matt, well...

What milk? Come on, come on. Where are the cases that were piled up and back? I don't know. We're strangers here. Well, push over and let me look inside. Yes, sir. Is that all the milk there is, just these four bottles? As far as we know, we haven't touched a drop. No, we're coffee drinkers. Shut up. I ain't got time for polite conversation. Hey, what are you doing? That's somebody's milk. Mind your own business. Oh, you can't do that. Think of all the trouble the cows went to. Sit down and keep out of the way. Hey.

Jerry, he's milk mad. He'll break all the bottles and we'll get the blame for it. Well, that's that. There's some cream over here in the corner. Never mind. Where's the milk route? The what? The list of places the milkman delivers to. It ought to be hanging up here somewhere. Is this it? That's what I want. Now, wait a minute. You can't get away with this. No? What are you going to do? Pay for the milk. That's more like it. Just to make sure you don't get in my hair, I'm going to send you two on a little buggy ride. Buggy? Buggy?

Here, don't you dare take those reins. You'll get them back in a minute, lady. Give him a good ride. Hey, don't do that! Jerry, stop him. That thug's running away. Never mind him, Pam. The horse is, too. The Horse

Atta girl, Nellie, just take it easy and we'll find your master for you. Maybe it'd be better not to, after running away with his horse. The horse ran away with us, dear. And if she hadn't tired on that long hill, we'd have been in Cleveland by now. Oh, golly, she's starting again. Now, now, don't excite her, Pam. She just sees her master. Where? Waiting right over there on the curb next to our car. Oh, Nellie, easy, girl. This is the end of the line.

You'd better start talking, Jerry, before the milkman turns sour. Fine thing. Fine thing. If you want to go for a ride, why don't you find a merry-go-round? We can explain everything, driver. You can't explain overheating this horse. She ain't air-cooled, you know. Well... Gosh almighty, you broke my milk, too. Now Mrs. Snyder won't be able to take her back. But it wasn't our fault, driver. That horrible man had a scar on his face and a...

gun in our ribs. Otherwise, the horse wouldn't have run away. Don't you see? I see, all right, but I don't think I'm hearing so good. He broke the bottles, the thug, and he took the milk route, too. Now, why would anybody want to break milk bottles? That's just it. We don't know.

Unless he sells cardboard containers. It's a lot more serious than that, Pam. That guy was desperate. I don't believe the whole story. Stick him up. Huh? Stick him up, all of you. You'll get shot. Jerry, it's a girl. Now, what kind of a joke... Shut up. Hand over all the milk you got. Come on, lady, pass it down. But there isn't any more. Will cream do? We have some very thin cream. Don't be funny. Give me the cream. Yes, ma'am.

That all there is? Just these two? That's all, lady. Mrs. Foley and Mrs. Rosenblum. Gosh, that's not just cream. That's extra heavy. What happened to all the milk? The man with the scar got it. He got the milk route, too. The man with the scar? That's what they tell me. Get in, driver. How's that? Get in, I said. We're all going for a little ride. Another one? My horse is exhausted. Do like I tell you. You're going to take me back over your milk route. Oh!

Oh, why did he do it? Why did it have to happen to me? Every bottle along the route has been broken. Stop your whining and keep driving. There's Mrs. Henderson. There must be milk insurance. There's Mrs. Flowers, both warts. There's rain insurance. They'll never forgive me. I'll have to move to a new neighborhood. Oh, why did he do it?

Oh, there's one that isn't broken. Where? I see it. Mrs. Breedham's house. Oh, oh, Nellie. Oh. Take it easy now. No tricks or I'll let you have it. We may get out, may we not? One at a time. Keep in front of me. All of you. Come on, Pam. Watch us up there. How can I? With a hot gun breathing down my neck. Go ahead, milkman. Stay with him. I'm staying. Only I wish you would... Keep moving. Oh, yes, ma'am.

Not too fast now. Keep in line. Anything you say. Go ahead, Jerry. I just can't understand why all the other milk bottles are broken and this one is still whole. Wait a minute. I think I understand it now, Pam. What is it? A man lying across the steps. A dead man. Oh, no. How do you know he's dead? He's been shot through the head. Jerry, that thug did it. The man with the scar on his face. He killed him. No, Pam.

That thug didn't kill this man. Why not? Because this man is the one with the scar on his face. Well, this is one situation where there's more to cry over than spilled milk. Hello, everybody, hello. Halo is the shampoo that glorifies your hair. So, halo, everybody, halo. Halo.

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Don't just stand there, Jerry. Get the police. I'd be very happy to, dear, but I doubt if this young lady with the gun will let me. I will in a minute, mister, as soon as I search this guy's pocket. Oh, don't do that. It's against the law to move a dead man. Against the law to do a lot of things. I'll bet you've done them all. Shut up. All I wanted from you was milk. Just the same, you're going to get into a lot of trouble if you don't stop throwing suspicion on yourself. You're mixed up in a murder case, young lady. No, I'm not. I'm just looking for a ring. What kind of a ring? A ring.

Is that what he was looking for? That's my business. It'll be the police's business, too, when they catch up with you. Don't forget you've got three witnesses here who can identify you. Cut it out, will you? I didn't kill this guy. But you do know who he is. He's a skunk, a no-good double-crossing skunk. Oh. I see.

I take it you're in love with him. I was until he tried to run out on me, just swiping somebody's ring. A dirty rat. He said the cops were chasing him down the street. He had to get rid of it. So he just left it in my milk wagon? That's what he told me. He said he cut through the cap of a milk bottle and dropped it inside so he could pick it up later. Only the wagon had moved by then. I guess so. Well, if he was double-crossing you, why don't you put that gun down and let the police take over? Because I don't want to get blamed for stealing that ring. I want to put it back before she finds out it was stolen.

Who is she? The woman I work for. She'll think I took her because I'm her maid. Who's the woman you work for? I've told you too much already. Now turn around, all of you. What's the idea? Turn around, I said. Keep facing the street. If anybody tries to follow me, I'll shoot. Stay that way, all of you.

We'll see which way she's going, Jerry. No, and I'm not going to look either. She's too nervous to be tempted with that gun. I'll see. We should have found out who she works for. The woman who owns the ring is the key to the whole case. We don't even know who she is. I know who owns the ring. Who? Mrs. W. W. Stewart. There's so many inscriptions. What inscriptions? What are you talking about? The ring that was in the milk bottle. You mean you've seen that ring? Seen it. I've got it. I found it while he was out gallivanting with my horse. It's right here in my pocket. What?

Homicide. Sergeant Mullins speaking. Mullins, this is Mrs. North. So early in the morning, Mrs. North. Don't tell me you're going to start finding corpses at the break of day. Well, we found this one, Mullins. There may be more later. You mean there's one already? A bona fide murder? As far as we're concerned, it is, but

We'll leave it to you to make it official. Well, I'd better get right up there. That's why I'm calling you, Mullins. Jerry and I are going to take the diamond ring over to Mrs. Stewart's place. But you'll find the body on Hewlett Street, six feet from Mrs. Breeden's milk bottle. What? Oh, you can't miss it, Mullins. It's homogenized. And the milkman will be waiting there for you with a gray horse. We must have a bad connection. Nothing but gibberish is coming out this end. Well, it's going in clear enough.

Corpse is on Hewlett Street, 722. I got you. A milkman is waiting there for you to tell you about the murder. I got you. And Jerry and I have to dash over with a ring because that maid of hers might kill somebody. I lost you. Mrs. W.W. Stewart is certainly taking her time about answering the doorbell, Jerry. Well, it's only 8 o'clock, dear. She might still be asleep.

Yes? Mrs. Stewart? Mrs. W. W. Stewart? Yes? I believe you own a diamond ring with a large stone in the center and a circle of emeralds around it. Why, who are you?

What do you know about the ring? Well, we don't know very much, except that it was stolen last night. Stolen? From this apartment? Oh, don't be alarmed, Mrs. Stewart. The ring isn't missing anymore, but if you want it back, we'll all have to go to the police and... No, no, I don't want any fuss about that ring. But there is a fuss. There will be if we stand here talking about it. Well, what shall we do? Make signs? No, please, go away, will you? Don't you understand? My husband is a very jealous man. I can't stand here any longer. I really... Oh, is it there? Oh...

Um, just some people from, uh, from down the hall, Ed. Please. Will you go away and come back some other time? Mrs. Stewart, you don't seem to realize there's been a murder. I can't help it. There'll be another one if you get my husband involved in this. But what about your maid, Mrs... Goodbye. Well, that was a cordial little reception. Another minute and she'd have served tea right in our faces. Very strange, Jerry.

Didn't seem as if she were at all interested in getting her ring back for the murder either. Seeming isn't believing, dear. She didn't even seem to seem. Well, before we go off the deep end on this, I think you'd better run down to the drugstore on the corner and phone the police again. I may need Mullen strong right on before I'm through here. What are you going to do? Find out a little more about this ring. Alone? I won't be alone long, Pam, if you hurry that call. A squad car can be here in three minutes. All right, Jerry. I'll be right back. Thank you, dear. Thank you.

And don't keep telling me I can trust you because I can't. You lie like a trooper. Don't argue with me. I've got to get to work. Oh, excuse me. Yeah? What are you doing here? What do you want? Why, nothing. I was just... Don't hand me that. You were just about to ring the bell. You're one of her friends, aren't you? No. As soon as I tell her I'm going to Chicago, they start coming early in the morning. Now, wait a minute. I was here just a moment ago. I rang the bell. Then she was lying to me.

She said it was somebody from down the hall. Hey, let go of my coat. I'll make an example of you, mister. Come on. Come on. Get up. So you can knock me down again? No, thank you. Get up, I said, or I'll grind you into the floor. No, no. Wait, wait. Now, look, I don't even know your wife. I just came here to help her get her ring back. What ring? The big diamond one that was stolen last night. I've got it right here. Don't you lie to me. That ring is at the jeweler's.

She told me she left it there to have it fixed. Well, I don't know what she told you, Mr. Stewart, but... Hey, hey, hey, that's my throat you're squeezing. Come on, we're going to find out about that ring right now. Wait a second, will you? My wife's downstairs in the phone booth. I don't care where your wife is. You're coming with me. The End

Operator. Operator, get me police headquarters right away. Yes, ma'am. Police headquarters. Put that phone down. Oh, it's you. Oh, dear. It's you. Put that phone down. Of course. Now.

Hand over the ring. What ring? Don't play dumb. I saw the milkman give it to you. I've been following you ever since. Well, you haven't followed very closely. My husband's got it. Get it back. But I can't. He's upstairs in the apartment on Tilden Street, and you're holding me here on Monroe Street. What are you talking about? Well, it ought to be plain enough. You're holding me here on Monroe Street, and my husband... Wait a minute.

There goes your husband now, with Mr. Stewart. Where? Can't you see through the window? They're crossing the street. Well, don't you want to find out where they're going? You bet I do. Come on. Until I get that ring, I'm not going to let either of you out of my sight.

Well, I wish you'd tell me why you're dragging me to a jewelry store, Mr. Stewart. I've got the ring in my pocket. Be quiet. The store's right here. It isn't open yet. Then we'll wait.

There's something awfully fishy about this ring business, and I've got a hunch my wife is behind it. Why? Because she doesn't ever tell the truth until I dig it out of her. Only this time, I'm going to dig it out of a jeweler. Say, what was that? Sounded like a shot to me. There's another one. Where are they coming from? I haven't got the faintest idea. Quick, get down. That one was too close for comfort. What the heck is going on here? Don't you know, Mr. Stewart? Somebody's trying to kill us. The End

Well, it looks like Jerry is going to be kept very busy for a while.

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Those shots are coming from across the street. Get back in the doorway, Mr. Stewart. You're too big a target. If you are the target... It's me, all right. My wife's firing those shots. See her over there? She's coming this way. You'd better beat it before she gets the range. Where can I go? She's got us carted in this doorway. Well, I'd stand in front of you, but the way she looks, I think she'd shoot through me. Come on out of there, Ed!

Now, wait a minute, honey. You don't want to kill me. Keep talking, Miss. Police car coming up. I know we had our little spats, but... Stop shaking, you big bluff. If I hadn't been afraid of you, this would never have happened. But I don't want you to... Stop that good lady and stop it fast. Mullins. It's all right, Mr. North.

I've got hold of her now. You got here just in time, officer. She was going to kill me. Don't be a fool. I was just trying to frighten you away from this store. I didn't want you to speak to the jeweler before I did. Why not? Because I lied to you about that ring, Ed. It wasn't being repaired. I pawned it about a month ago, and I didn't want you to know about it. So I had a duplicate made. And that's the one I've got? The one that was stolen? Yes, Mr. North. The stones aren't real. Well, I don't know what you two are talking about, but you're all coming down to headquarters for questioning.

I've got a murder to solve. That's a lucky thing you found us, Mullins. How'd you know we were here? Well, didn't your missus get a message through the headquarters? Ah, she pulled a fast one, Mr. North. Made believe she was hanging on the phone and left it open all the time. What? That's how we knew that the other girl was hauling her. What other girl? What are you talking about, Mullins? Where's Pam now? I don't know, Mr. North. Don't you? No. What's that? Oh, there she is across the street. Quick, Mullins. That other girl will kill her. It's all right, Jerry. I've got the...

Pam, what happened? You're not hurt. Now, don't get excited, dear. We just had a little argument over the revolver, and I won. Watch him, Ellen. Here, I got her. I didn't kill him. I didn't kill him, I tell you. Oh, but you did. You admitted he was running out on you when you called him a skunk. You had every reason to kill him, and you proved it by refusing to give yourself up to the police when we told you to. Oh, no, that wasn't it. They're afraid they'd blame me for stealing the ring. Oh, but you didn't have the ring, so you couldn't have stolen it. You see?

The only thing you had to hide from the police was murder. Get up. Awfully nice of you to take us home, driver. You sure you don't mind? Oh, it's a pleasure, Mrs. North.

I wish I could take you home every morning. Without a murder, of course. Oh, aren't you sweet? You really mean that? Sure do.

Why, if I could make my milk route with you, I'd leave an extra bottle of heavy cream at every doorstep. Oh, I think you're pretty swell, too. Say, what is this? A mutual admiration society? Why, Jerry, no. You're not jealous, are you? I think it's fun coming home with a milkman. So do I. As long as the milkman doesn't come home with us. The End

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

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

is one that is known as cashmere bouquet. Like magical gardens with blue skies above, so enchanting and trancing, the fragrance men love. It's thrilling to bathe each day with cashmere bouquet. No other soap gives your skin this exciting bouquet.

Next Tuesday night, Mr. and Mrs. North find a lawyer, namely to wit as follows wherein murdered, and a murdered man asking for their help. Charles Stark speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Ah!

Obsession.

Too many times, money has been given the highest priority as the root of all evil. However, money has nothing to do with evil.

Evil is within. The evil is the obsession one has for money that lends the impetus to lie or steal or cheat, yes, or even murder. In a moment, you'll hear the story of an evil obsession for money. A story that centers around these moments starring Bonita Granville. ♪♪

so

This is the story of Cousin Charlie, a man who refused to die, not knowingly, of course, for what man has that conscious right? But in the house of Trina and Jake Crowley, there is desperation that merges into near panic as the days pass. Jake Crowley works for a bank as custodian of money, and at...

But this time of the year, the green and silver of it has none of the joyous glitter of Yuletide. For to Jake Crowley and Trina, money is an obsession. $321.17 won't buy anything. That's all that's left, Trina. How much was it to begin with, Jake? Almost $10,000. $10,000? Where has it gone? Why do you think?

You wanted a new car, didn't you? You insisted on that trip to Tahoe last summer. You asked for this house, didn't you? Oh, so I was the one at fault. I spent the money. I suppose the next thing you'll be saying is that I instigated the whole affair. Oh, listen, Trina, we won't get anywhere this way. We've got to figure a way out.

I need your help. When are the bank examiners due, Jake? Next Tuesday. But can't you cover up some way? Isn't there something you can do? Not a thing. Since that new manager's been in, I haven't had a chance... Oh, Jake. I don't know what to say. It's... It's... The word's larceny, Trina. Grand larceny. And that's how it began...

That was the reason we had to do what we did. We were desperate. There didn't seem to be any way out. No way at all.

Then, as though fate had planned it, a letter came. Oh, try and be nice to him, Jake. Cousin Charlie doesn't visit us often. It's too often to suit me. When's he due in? Noon train tomorrow. He says we needn't bother meeting him at the station. He'll come ahead to the house. Oh, that's just dandy. I can hardly wait to hear that cheery laugh of his. Oh!

Then there's the one about the two bookies who went to heaven. Have I told that to you? Is it funny? It sure is. Well, then you haven't told it. Then I haven't told it.

Say, that's good. That's real good. Yes, that is good. Cousin Charlie, I've laid out some towels for you if you want to freshen up. And your room's ready whenever you are. Oh, thanks, thanks. I guess I'll go upstairs and... Say, where's that little traveling kit of mine? Oh, over there with your suitcase. Oh, so it is. Getting so I can't see a thing without my glasses, think I'll take my suitcase up to... Oops, dropped the kit. Oh, here, I'll get it, Cousin Charlie. You seem to have...

Why, you seem to have a lot of money here, Charlie. Oh, it kept coming open, didn't it? It's in cash. Sure. Just sold a piece of property of mine in Missouri. On the way out here, some funny old codger bought it. Insisted on doing business in cash. Quite a lot of cash by the looks of it. Yep, $10,000. That's an awful lot of money to carry around. Yes, haven't had a chance to deposit it yet.

You know, the funny part of it is I've been trying to get rid of that property for years No one to touch it Then suddenly this fellow offers me $10,000 for it Just like a present, ain't it? Yeah Well, I guess I'll go up to my room Good night, kids Good night, Cousin Charlie All right You know, Jay, I've been thinking As long as Charlie has the guest room $10,000 $10,000, Trina

That'll make up what I'm short at the bank. Oh, I know. I know, but I don't think... $10,000. Jake. Good Lord, Jake. Cousin Charlie's got $10,000.

Tina, you remember Charlie saying he couldn't see very well without his glasses? Yes. He's always been quite nearsighted. All right. One of us has to get our hands on those glasses. We break them. Make it appear accidental, of course. Then? I've typed this note. We'll find some way to get him to sign it. He won't know what he's signing if he can't read it.

What are you going to use for the... Potassium cyanide. Encyclopedia says five grains are fatal. I can buy it at a photography studio in town. They use it for developing pictures. That way I don't have to sign for it. Oh, Jake, I'm frightened. No, you're not. You're not, Trina. You understand? When people get frightened, they get caught. You remember that.

But if Charlie should suspect anything... If... If Charlie should what? Charlie. Good morning. My ears are burning. What was you saying about me? Nothing. Nothing at all. Oh, yes, you were. I heard you. Heard what? Heard you mention my name. Come on. What's the secret?

Oh, well, I was just telling Jake if he could fix the water faucet, well, maybe you could. Would you try before you sit down for breakfast, Charlie? It's stuck. Why, sure thing, regular handyman. That's me. Which one is it? Let's see. Uh...

Doesn't seem to be anything the matter with... Oh, dear, I've flattered your suit, haven't I? I'm so sorry. Here, take this dishcloth. Now, let me have your glasses. I'll dry them. Oh, that's all right. I can do it. No, no, let me. I... Oh, dear, look what I've gone and done. I've broken your glasses. Yes, and...

My only pair. Oh, I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm terribly sorry. It was later that afternoon. Jake had gone to work and Charlie and I were on the sun porch. I had but one thought. How was I to get him to sign that note?

Then, as if in answer to my question, an article in the magazine caught my eye. Here was the solution. And so simple.

Cousin Charlie. Hmm? Here's an interesting article. Yeah? It's about the different specimens of handwriting. It says that your entire character can be determined just by the way you sign your name. Yeah? Uh-huh. And it says if you circle your eyes instead of dotting them, you're an extrovert. And if you don't cross your T's, you're an introvert. What are you, Charlie? An extrovert or an introvert? Oh, I don't know. Anyway, I don't go for that handwriting stuff. It's all out of bunk. Oh, maybe it's not. Oh.

They have a chart here that explains the whole thing. Here, write your name and let me see if I can analyze your handwriting. Oh, no, Trina. I think I'd like to take a walk. Oh, it'll just take a second. Oh, some other time. Oh, now, Charlie, don't be a stick. Here, use my pen. Write your name on this piece of paper. All right. Here. Now, are you satisfied? Uh-huh. Yes, I'm satisfied.

So far, so good. Then the next step. Jake was late getting home that night. Charlie and I had finished supper and he'd gone into the living room.

I was straightening up in the kitchen when I heard the car turning in the driveway. Jake came in the back door. Jake, you're late. Where have you been? The stores were jammed. I had to wait forever at the photography studio. I was worried about you. I'm sorry. You could have called. I said I was sorry. You don't have to take my head off. Did you... Did you get it? Yeah. Did you get... Here. Oh, Katrina, you're wonderful.

I was afraid for a while. Here comes Charlie. Tina, I... Oh, Jake. Finally got home, huh? Yeah. Well, I just come in to say goodnight. Oh, are you going to bed so early? Yep. Gotta get my beauty wings. Well, goodnight. Goodnight, Cousin Charlie. Bye, Charlie. Oh, Charlie. Yeah? We, uh... We're just getting ready to fix some tea, weren't we, Trina? What? What?

Oh, yes, yes, we were. Why don't you join us in a cup before you turn in? No, thanks. I don't think so. Well, then maybe Trina can bring you up a cup after you get to bed. Help you to sleep. Well, okay. Bring it up when it's ready. Night. Night. What's the idea of the tea? Trina. You mean now? Sure. It's perfect. Can't you see? I'll put the water on. Come on.

Oh, Jake, let me see that note again. What's the matter with you? You've seen it. But we might have left something out. There might be a mistake. I tell you, it's all right. If it'll make you feel better. Here. Now, is there anything wrong with that? No, I guess not. Then put this in his cup. There's ten grains here. All right. Wait, Jake. What's the matter now? The police will ask where we got the poison. Trina, Trina, don't you think I've thought of that?

Charlie must have found it in the desk. I used it last summer for developing pictures. Jake, I'm afraid I'm going to be sick. You're not anything of the kind. You're all right. Everything's planned perfectly. Now take that tea up to Charlie. All right. Go ahead. Up the stairs. Yes, I'm going.

Yes, Trina? Here's your tea, Cousin Charlie.

Murder in cold blood for only $10,000. A cheap levy against life. A dollar a day for 27 years. And Cousin Charlie is nearing 50. A dollar a day for 27 years. And that is the price Jake Crowley and Trina has placed on life. With no rate of interest...

The perspective on money and life becomes incredible when that perspective is twisted and warped by obsession. ♪♪

Back now to our story starring Bonita Granville. It was the following morning after solicitous Trina took Cousin Charlie a cup of hot tea. A cup of tea loaded with cyanide. A lethal charge sufficient to kill many Cousin Charlie.

And perhaps this morning, cousin Charlie lies sprawled in the guest chamber in the horribly contorted paroxysm of death. At least, that is the burning hope of Jake and his wife, Trina, as they recount their evil conspiracy in the breakfast room downstairs, their voices hushed by the tense mute of a desperate obsession.

I don't want to go up there, Jake. I just can't. All right, you don't have to.

Let me have the suicide note. I'll take it up and put it on the lamp stand. Must we call the police this morning? Of course. But there's nothing to worry about. We simply tell them I went upstairs to call him for breakfast and found him... Well, that way. Jake. Listen, Trina. I was thinking last night. There may be more than 10,000 in this forest. Charlie's a rich man, isn't he? I think so. And you're his only living relative, aren't you? Yes. All right. He's almost certain to have mentioned you in his will.

Do you realize what that means, Trina? We'll be rich. Rich? Oh, Jake, it must be wonderful to be rich. You said it. Trina, we're both alike. I think that's why I love you so much. And I love you, Jake. I always will. Well, good morning. Cousin Charlie. Charlie? Oh, what's the matter? Oh, baby.

Nothing. Oh, here's that cup of tea, Trina. I must have fallen right to sleep last night. Didn't get a chance to drink it. Thanks anyway. Oh, well, come on. What are you staring at me for?

Well, what have you got for breakfast? Breakfast? Oh, breakfast. Eggs. Fine, fine. Say, how about dishing me up a platter? I'm kind of in a hurry. Thought I'd go into town this morning and get a pair of temporary glasses. Oh.

Oh, yes, I'll fix you something right away. Oh, see, I meant to tell you. I used the phone in my room for a long-distance call yesterday. Hope you don't mind. Oh, no, of course not. Had to call my foreman at one of my ranches. We're going to enlarge. Finally got an okay with some building material. Figured on going up to look it over day after tomorrow. You told the foreman you'd be there day after tomorrow? Why, yeah. Sure.

Say, uh, how about them eggs? Oh, sorry. Right away, Cousin Charlie. Jake and I had been very lucky. If Charlie had drunk the tea after making that phone call to his ranch, the police would have checked with the foreman and become suspicious.

Yes. We had been lucky, but it hadn't solved our problem. So that evening... Trina, did Charlie get back? He's in the front room, listening to the radio. Did he get his glasses? Yes. Good. There's only two days left, Trina. I know, Jake, but... Listen, this is foolproof. We'll tell him there's a package for him in town that he must sign for personally. We'll

We'll loan him the car. How does that... The skid chains are off, and the roads are slippery with snow. I've loosened a bolt in the master cylinder of the brakes. Before he reaches town, all the hydraulic fluid will have leaked out. You mean the brakes won't hold? Call Charlie. Oh, no, Jake, I can't do that. We haven't much time. Call him, Trina. THE END

It was easy to talk Charlie into going. And as the front door closed behind him, I felt relieved, exhilarated. I stood by the window listening for the car motor to start.

I didn't hear it. Instead, I heard a voice calling. Trina! Jake! Come here, quick! Wait, it's Cousin Charlie. Sounds like he's on the porch. Open the door. Charlie, what's wrong? I slipped on the steps. Oh, don't seem to be able to get up. Here. Give me a hand, will you? Yeah, here. Be careful. Let's get him into the house, Jake. Yeah, all right. Take it easy, Charlie. Come on. Come on.

Charlie had sprained his ankle. We called a doctor. He advised Charlie to stay in bed and he would pay him another visit in the morning. Jake found an old cane he had used when he had had a foot infection.

We left it at Charlie's bedside and went downstairs Jake was furious The thing was getting to be an obsession with him I don't care, Trina I don't care what's gone wrong We can't wait any longer, we can't We won't be able to do it, Jake You can see that It just wasn't meant to be It was meant to be, all right And it's going to be Oh, no Don't you realize, Jake There's something bigger than you or me There's nothing bigger than you or me

Listen, you've kept up the insurance on the house, haven't you? Why, you know I have. All right. This time we'll do it. There's plenty of kerosene in the basement. We'll burn this house to the ground and Cousin Charlie with it. Oh, you can't... We'll be in the garage, understand? We won't notice the fire until it's too late. Charlie started it with a cigarette, accidentally. He was smoking in bed. But he's crippled. He'd never be able to get down the stairs. Of course, that's the idea. Oh, no, we couldn't do that to him. We can and we will.

Oh, Trina, we've gone too far to stop now.

Hello, Charlie. How do you feel? Oh, a little better, thanks. Say, Charlie, that money of yours, don't you think Trina and I'd better put it away for you? Oh, I don't know. Nobody's going to rob me, are they? Oh, no, of course not. I just thought, well, we have a wall safe downstairs, and inasmuch as you're laid up... Oh, come to think of it, might not be a bad idea. There's my traveling kit over there. Take it down with you. Fine.

Say, uh...

What have you got in that can there? Oh, it's kerosene. We were just going down to the furnace. Thought we'd heat your room up a little for you. Oh, thanks. Oh, dear, I spilled it. I'll get a cloth and clean it up right away. Oh, don't bother. Don't bother. It'll dry up. Well, if you're sure you don't mind. Oh, no, it's okay. Here's a package of cigarettes, Charlie, in case you'd like to smoke. Oh, well, thanks. You better keep them. I don't smoke. You don't smoke? No, sir.

Oh. Oh, that's right. I forgot. Come on, Trina. We'd better go downstairs. Come on.

But, Jake, regardless, why can't we tell the police that it started with the cigarette? Don't be a fool. Don't you think they'd discover he didn't smoke? No, we've got to find something besides the cigarette. What can it be? I'll get it. Hello? Speaking. Oh, hello, Evans. Yes? Yes? Hey, what? They're on the way over here now. Yeah. Yeah, I'm glad you called. Thanks.

Goodbye. What is it, Jake? Jake, what's wrong? They've discovered the shortage at the bank, Trina. The investigators are on their way over here now. Evan said he thought I'd like to know. He's a nice kid. But how? I thought the bank examiners weren't doing till... I don't know how. Trina, Trina, you said you loved me.

I do, Jake. Heaven help me for it, but I do. We'll run away. You and I. But supposing we're caught? We'll be caught if we stay here. Trina, we've got Charlie's 10,000. Maybe we'll be able to start again somewhere else. Oh, do you think that this is the right... Will you come with me, Trina? Yes. Yes, Jake. I'll come with you. I'll come with you.

Are you afraid? No, not anymore. They're probably at the house by now. Jake, do you have to drive so fast? Well, they'll be looking for us pretty soon. But you're doing almost 70 in the road to... Jake? What's the matter? Jake? Good Lord, Jake! The brake! The brake! The brake!

Hello? Who? Well, this is Charlie Burton. They... What? Both of them? Yes. I'm Mrs. Crowley's cousin. Well, I... I have a sprained ankle. But if you'll send someone... Yes. Yes, I'll come down and identify the bodies. What?

What? $10,000? That's strange. I was planning on giving him that money as a... as a present. Why?

I thought the world of those two kids. You have been listening to Obsession. Obsession.

The End

Good evening, creep. Welcome to the Mystery Playhouse.

Creeps over the minds of mortal men come many shadows. Shadows of greed and hate, jealousy and fear. Darkness is the absence of light. Though in the sudden shadows which fog the minds of men and women are to be found the strange impulses which urge them into the unknown. Listen now to Turnabout, tonight's venture in the dark. My motive for killing Marvin Rice was really quite commonplace. Fear, hatred, envy.

Now, let's skip the motives. The part I find fascinating was the actual crime itself. It was so original. So amazingly clever, if you'll pardon me saying it. There wasn't a Florida in anywhere. There wasn't the slightest chance in all the world that it would fail. And it didn't fail. Yet downstairs in the prison courtyard, they're testing a gallows built especially for me.

As I said, my motive for killing Marvin was in no way unusual. He and I were partners in an exporting business. For a long time, I had helped myself to considerably more than 50% of the profits. When Marvin found it out and added it up, it came to something like $50,000.

But I think he was really more shocked at my reasons for taking the money and hanging out. You mean you spent all this money on another woman? But what about Ellen? Well, Donner, she's your wife. Oh, don't try to figure it out, Marvin. It's quite complicated. You see, I'm not like you. I can't trot home to my suburban paradise every night to sit by the fireplace in my bedroom slippers and jabber about the petunias. You can't.

That makes your Francis luckier than my Ella. But cheating on your wife, that's the worst part. That's the part I can't forgive. No speeches, Marvin, please. I'm not in the mood. Oh, you're not in the mood, huh? In that case, I'm sorry I even brought the matter up. Perhaps you are in the mood to tell me what you're going to do about this $50,000 shortage. I don't know. I'll think of something. I see. Well, what day is this, Richard? May 20th. Why? May 20th. I am circling June 1st on my death calendar.

You haven't replaced the money by then, I'll put you in jail. Jail? We wouldn't do that, Marlon. You want to bet? No. In the meantime, no one will know about the short. We'll continue working in the office as we always have. Until the first. Partners for the end. After stealing $50,000, what did you expect me to do then? Offer you my congratulations?

As soon as I left Marvin's office, I telephoned the lady I'd spent the money on. She was very understanding. She assured me she'd hock all the things I'd bought her, and she told me to come to her apartment that same evening to pick up the money. When I got to the apartment, I found the only vacancy in the city of Los Angeles. She'd run out, all right. I telephoned Marvin right away. She ran out on you, huh? That's too bad. But I've still got June 1st, sir, cologne. I can't... But, Marv, listen to me. You've got to give me a little more time. June 1st. But I can't... I asked my lawyer just what the estate was for embezzlement.

It runs as high as ten years. Well, what good would it do you to put me in jail? You still wouldn't have the money. As I told you, I'd put Marv... During the next week, I found that lifting $50,000 is a lot easier than raising $50,000. There wasn't a chance in the world of getting that money. Oh, but I knew when it came to a showdown, Marvin wouldn't send me to prison. Ten years...

She wouldn't lock me away for ten years. You want to bet? Ten years. Everything's gone. No, I couldn't let him do that to me. You want to bet? I'd kill him first. I'd kill him. Yes, I'd have to kill Marvin. The thought drifted into my mind with the ease of an old friend. I'd have to kill Marvin. There was no other way. But how? Without bringing suspicion on myself.

I went downstairs for a cup of coffee and found the answer tacked to her cash register in a little cafe. Waiter. Yes, sir? That's fine. If the coffee's weak and the sake is tough, blame Sally. I don't think I've ever seen anything like that before. Except the gag the manager cooked up. Figured if the customers blamed Sally, they wouldn't pick on us. But what about Sally? She must take a lot of punishment. That's just it. You see, there isn't any Sally. More coffee, sir? I said, more. Say, more coffee?

No, no, no more coffee. But thanks anyway. Yeah. Thank you very much. And so I found my plan of murder. If the customers blamed Sally, they wouldn't pick on us, and they couldn't pick on Sally if there wasn't any Sally. There was something else so fascinating about the idea. Marvin Rice, the ideal husband who despised me so for cheating on my wife, Marvin Rice, was going to be killed by another woman.

Now, really, wasn't that a perfectly wonderful idea? I went back to the office. It was after closing time, and Marvin was on the 615 Suburban Special headed for Palmdale, his wife Frances, and the Petunia. The office was empty except for Miss Brown, Marvin's secretary. She was working on some reports. Well, this was as good a time as any to begin. I went into my private office, but I didn't close the door. Without picking up the receiver, I started dialing our own number. I felt like a kid starting a snowball down a hill. Miss Brown didn't hear me dial.

But she did hear the phone ring an instant later. I picked up the receiver and moved my lips as though I were talking. Oh, hello. Uh, Miss Brown? Yes, sir? That call was for Mr. Rice. Better tell him about it tomorrow. I'll leave a note on his desk. Who was it? Somebody named Sally. Sally? Yeah, no last name, no middle initial. Just Sally. Said she was a friend. I don't know. She sounded kind of mad.

After Miss Brown left for the day, I called the Bartlett Hotel. I reserved a room for the following night in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Marvin Rice. And I told the clerk to be sure to have a good bottle of wine in the room and two glasses. And I called the ticket agency and reserved two seats for the ice volleys for Mr. and Mrs. Marvin Rice. Later, I went to a hawk shop in Skid Row and persuaded the kindly clerk to sell me a $20 revolver for $100. I was just about all set. Halt!

The next morning, I got a quick look at Marvin's appointment book and saw he was going to be out from 11 to 1. I went down to the cigar store, closed myself in a telephone booth, and dialed Western Union. Hello, uh, Western Union. I want to send a telegram to Mrs. Marvin Rice, Palmdale, California. Here's a message. Won't be home tonight. Busy with Barnes and E.S. on new catalogs. Call at noon and we'll explain. See you tomorrow, Marvin. Oh, no, make that...

Love, Marvin. Uh, this is Marvin Rice calling. Yes, Mr. Jeff? I want you to send a nice orchid corsage to my wife. Send it to the Bartlett Hotel, room 612. That is my account. Yes, Mr. Jeff? And enclose this note, To my Sally, Without you, life has no meaning. Love, Marvin.

I got back to the office a few minutes after 11. Marvin had already gone to his conference when his wife Frances called. I took the call. I got the wire. Wire? Yeah, from Marvin to work all night long. Hmm? Marvin's catalog was coming out tonight. What is it? Oh, I'm working on some reports of my own tonight, but I... Oh. Well, Marvin didn't say anything to me about working. But the wire is right here in my...

Oh. Well, as a matter of fact, Marv told me he was leaving early tonight. Look, as soon as he comes in, I'll have him call you. I'm sure he'll be able to explain everything. Uh,

Marvin, your wife called while you were around. Oh? Yeah, her mother's taken ill. Ill? Oh, it's nothing serious. But Frances is going to spend the night with her. Oh, well, I'd better call Frances up and find out what's wrong. Well, you won't be able to reach her. She was just leaving the house with a train when she called. She said for you to stay in town tonight. In town? Mm-hmm. Where does she think I'm going to get a place in town this late? Well, if you like, I can get a room for you somewhere. Oh. Okay, you'd better do it. All right. By the way, how's the money-raising situation? Hmm? You know, June 1st is only two days away. Oh, that. Yeah. Well, you know, Marvin...

You know, I think I figured a way out of that mess. Yeah? Well, for your sake and for Ellen's sake, I hope it works. Thanks. So far, not wood. It's working fine. Around four o'clock, I went down to the corner telephone booth and called Marvin's wife again. I told her that he'd called in and said he'd be home for the rest of the day, or rather that he'd been gone on business. I hit that word, business, just right. After that, I found Marvin and told him I'd reserved him a room in the Bartlett, room 612.

Then I asked Miss Brown to work overtime with me, and Marvin went over to the hotel. He called me the second he got into the room. Hey, this place gives me the creeps. Why? You know what I found over here waiting for me? No, why? I don't. And a chilled bottle of wine. Why am I? What'll Francis say? Well, it's not funny. Don't make sense. Oh, I'm sure there must be a logical explanation for everything. Look, I'll drop over and we'll have a drink of that wine. Maybe we can figure this thing out, huh? Yeah. Do that, will you, Dick? Oh.

I went out to the front office and told Miss Brown to wake me in an hour, then I was going to take a snooze. Then I locked my office, went out the window, down the fire escape into the alley. It was ten after eight. I had to be back at the desk when she knocked at ten after nine. I made one stop. I bought a 60-cent tube of lipstick. By the time I got to the bar, but it was 14 minutes to nine. The lobby was crowded. Nobody would remember me. It was exactly ten minutes to nine when I knocked on Marvin's door. Oh, Judy, come in.

Well, the things that have happened tonight, it certainly got me confused. Has it, Marvin? Yes. What are you doing with that lipstick? Just decorating a few cigarette stubs in this glass. Huh? Sally has a good taste in lipstick, hasn't she? Sally? Who? Sally. Dick. Dick, that gun. What are you...

On my way down the hall, some guy opened his door and asked me if I heard pistol shots. I turned my head and said, yeah, I thought I did. I got back to the office building, and three minutes after nine, the gun was still in my pocket. I wasn't going to dump it any place where somebody would find it. I got into the basement of our building and ducked the gun behind one of the boilers that was just an inch thick on it. No one had been around there in 40 years. I got up to the office at six minutes after nine. I took off my coat. I slumped down on my chair. I felt fine. And four minutes later, Miss Brown remembered me. Yeah? Yeah.

What is it? What happened? I'm Mr. Bond. So soon, huh? Oh, gosh. Seems like I just closed my eyes. And that's all there was to it. They found Marvin a couple of hours later and there was a big investigation. But they never found a trace of the person they were looking for. A girl known only as Sally. Created quite a sensation. The sanctimonious Mr. Marvin Rice. Murdered in a love nest.

Everyone was so shocked. My wife, Ellen, couldn't get over it. We all pitied poor dear Francis. Now, no one could understand it. But the guy who could understand it least of all was poor Inspector North, who'd been assigned to the case. It's driving me nuts, Barnes. The dame doesn't just vanish in a puff of smoke, you know. Still no trace of him? Nothing. I traced back everything Rice did for the whole week after the murder. Everywhere I turn, I see evidence of Sally, but not one person who ever saw her. Mm-hmm. Well, what are you going to do? What am I going to do?

I don't care where I have to go or how long it takes. I'm going to keep looking for her. And I'll find her. You see if I don't. And he did look for quite a while, too. And then he gave it up for fresher, less complicated murders. I became full owner of the company and life was very good. That is, until three months ago.

That morning I came down to work, and Miss Brown, who is my secretary now, was waiting for me with a funny look on her face. Mr. Barnes? Yeah. Someone called you last night after you left, and again this morning. Yeah? Who? Well, she... she said her name was Sally, Mr. Barnes. Sally? And that she had to see you sometime today. Sally?

Sally called? How could she? You're lying. I'm not lying. Well, why should I lie? How could it be Sally? Don't you think you'd better go to the police, Mr. Barnes? Police? Well, wasn't Sally the name of the girl they think killed Mr. Rice? Yes, yes. But I... Yes? Hey, this is Ellen. What do you want? I couldn't. She needs to wipe my hair off.

I just called about the telegram. The what? The telegram you sent. I got it about an hour ago. I didn't send a telegram. But of course you did. Telling me you wouldn't be home tonight. I'll be home tonight, busy on New Campbell. When did you get that telegram? I told you about an hour ago. But you must have sent it to me or your name is on it. I don't care whose name is on it. I'll be home tonight. Do you understand? I'll be home tonight.

I grabbed a taxi and headed for the police department. I felt like a guy in the middle of a nightmare. What was going on? Well, that cop Norse was pretty smart. He'd find out who was behind this. And then it hit me right between the eyes. I couldn't go to the cops. Whoever was doing this knew that I'd killed Marvin. Hey, Cappy. Never mind the police station. Take me back to my office. Well, Mr. Barnes. Did you go to the police? Huh? Yeah, yeah. They...

They said they'll make a complete investigation. She called again while you were gone. Who? Sally. What does her voice sound like, Miss Brown? Well, it's... Does it sound like Ellen's or Mrs. Rice's? No. Why should I... All right, skip it. Any other calls? A couple of business calls and... Oh, yes. The Acme Ticket Agency. Acme Ticket Agency? Yes, they were able to get you two tickets to the Ice Follies. They'll hold them for you until 8 o'clock. That's very kind of them, especially since I didn't order the tickets. Well, then who did? I don't know who...

I'll get it. Yes? This is the room to the expository hotel. I'd like Mr. Barnes. Mr. Barnes, what do you want? I just wished to inform your reservation for tonight, Mr. Barnes. My reservation? Yes, room 612 will be available if you request. 612? But I didn't request anything. I beg your pardon, sir. Wait, wait, yes. It slipped my mind. I'm sorry. Room 612 will be fine. I'll be there tonight. I had to go to the hotel and wait for Sally...

Whoever Sally turned out to be. Because if I didn't, I'd never be safe again. But when my Sally came to the hotel tonight, she wouldn't find me shivering under the bed. She'd find me waiting with my gun. I went down to the boiler room of the office building and dug it out. Four bullets left. Then I went out and had a couple of drinks. After that, I did a crazy thing. I went to the cemetery where Marvin was buried. He was still there, of course. And I felt like a jerk for even going. I got to the Bartlett Hotel lobby at 7.30 in the evening. The drinks were wearing off. I didn't feel any too good. I didn't feel any too good.

It is your key to 612. Thanks. Did Mrs. Barnes show up yet? No, sir, she hasn't. But we sent the wine up just as you ordered. Wine? Yeah, I kind of expected it would be there. When I got to the room, it really took plenty of courage not to just turn around and start running. But if I did that, I was through. Somebody knew what I'd done. Somebody knew the whole plan. Whoever it was was coming here tonight. Probably to shake me down. I felt the gun in my pocket. There wouldn't be any shake-down.

After the bellboy left, I looked around the room. I could feel my whole insides turning around like a washing machine. I saw some cigarette butts in the ashtray that was lipstick on them. Hey, Mr. Barnes, look, you told me no one had been up here in my room. And there hasn't been anybody, sir. Don't lie to me. Who was it? I beg your pardon, sir. There's cigarette stubs in the ashtrays. They didn't get there by themselves. So is it, sir, the main ashtray. You know, it's so hard to get your patients healthy. I looked at my watch. It was 8.30. If everything went according to schedule, there'd be a knock on the door at 10 to 9. And then I'd know...

I held the gun level. Stuttered for the door. My legs weighed a ton. I'm coming, Sally. I'm coming. Flowers for Mrs. Barnes, sir. And the floor is just delivered, sir. Looks like an orchid.

It was an orchid, all right, and there was a card in it. And the card read, To my Sally, without you life has no meaning. Love. Only this time it was signed, Richard. I felt myself going to pieces. It was almost 20 to 9. Twice I went to the phone to call Detective Norris, but I couldn't go through with it. It would be like sticking my head into a noose. I started drinking the wine. That helped me a little. I broke the gun open. Everything was all right.

i looked at my watch again 15 minutes i got one to the door i opened it quickly and looked down the hall the hole was empty i closed the door i was trembling like a dried up old man it was almost time i took out the gun and put it on the bed it was 11 minutes to nine one more minute if sally were to arrive on schedule picked up the gun and held it with both hands i pointed it to the door

Okay. Okay. You asked for it. I don't know how long I just stood there, looking at the four bullet holes in the closed door. The empty gun was still in my hand. I walked in the door. Who would it be? Okay, Barnes. Just hand over the gun. Inspector Norris. That's better. Hey, wait. Harry, take the son to the laboratory right away. Give you any odds you want, it's the gun that killed Marvin Rice. Take your time.

It's a gun. I killed him. That's the whole works, Inspector Morris. We'll take every detail. Something for the reformers to worry about, isn't it? The menace of small signs nailed over cash registers. If that meant for that, I'd never thought up Sally. If that hadn't been for Sally, I'd never caught up with you. What are you talking about? There isn't any Sally. Yeah, I know, but it took me some time to realize that.

Remember what I told you? Didn't care where I had to go or how long I had to look, I'd find her. Well, I looked so hard, I found you instead.

But how did you know about the telegram and the orchid and everything else? It wasn't tough. I told you before, I checked back on everything that had happened to Rice for the whole week. When I realized I wasn't a Sally, I had to find another suspect. I chose you. You turned my own plan against me. That's right. It was a shot in the dark. When you didn't come to me for help after I started things going, I knew I hit the jackpot. Oh, one last question, Professor.

When did you find out there wasn't any Sally? When I started tracing back in Marvin Rice's life. That's where I slipped up, huh? I should have known no one would believe a smug, sanctimonious bore like Marvin could ever have another woman. Oh, but you're wrong there, Mr. Barnes. I knew Sally was a fake because during the investigation we discovered the other woman. Her name wasn't Sally and she had a perfect alibi. I'll get you. The other woman's name was Ellen.

Your wife, Mr. Barnes. A creeps that rings down the curtain on Dark Venture featuring Elliot Lewis. Tonight's performance in the Mystery Playhouse. The Price of Fear. Vincent Price presents Michael Jason, Sandra Clark, and Daphne Hurd in Goody Two-Shoes by William Ingram.

Vincent Price. Hello and welcome. The story I'm about to tell you is a love story. If not a perfect love, at least the perfecting of it. Something difficult to achieve. Something which can often lead to disastrous, indeed horrific results.

David and Anne Fordyce. Mr. and Mrs. Both mid-thirties. They'd been married for five years. Known each other for ten. They were, well, what you might say, meant for each other. Everybody said so. Attractive, personable, identical tastes, interests. Meant. And yet...

A feeling of growing apart was the way David eventually put it. The reason for this growing apart neither knew or even understood. Both finally blamed it quite simply on the rat race. They thought about it a lot. It preoccupied them. A need to get away out of the rut. A chance to find themselves and each other again.

And they both believed it. Really believed it. Once decided, the move wasn't difficult to arrange. David's credentials as a junior partner in one of the city's most reputable law practices of fine mind, excellent connections, it was all there just for the asking. Their best friends, Charles and Victoria, said so at the time. They even said so after my little story was told.

But at the time, there was no sense of sacrifice, of giving up anything, and was quite simply the most important thing in David's life. So, Freshfields and Pastures knew it had to be.

the city chambers lost him to a small country practice. Their stylish Georgian terrace house in London to a temporary flat above the office in that distant market town in deepest Devonshire.

And it was from there, every weekend, they'd drive deeper, ever deeper, into the surrounding countryside in search of... Well, at the time, they'd both have found it impossible to put a name to that.

It was late evening when we got that first glimpse of Ty's cottage. Just a glimpse at first. Briefly, between the hedges and high elms. Only the roof, really. Torn sacks. No smoke rising from the lopsided old chimney. Neglected. But strangely... Beckoning.

Darling, hold on. Have a heart. You need a flamethrower to get rid of these bambles. Oh, it gets better once you find the power. It certainly couldn't get worse. What? You do realize we're trespassing. What ever happened to your spirit of adventure? I left it at the gate. Oh, come on, then. Come on. Come on.

Anybody at home? And if there were, I might be needing you to talk yourself out of it. Hello? God, what a shamble. It's not exactly house and garden. I'm whacked. There's a three-legged chair if you want to bring it up. Now where? Oh, the living room is huge. I'll take your word for it. Oh, open hearted. Ingle nook.

A twisting little staircase. It's not very safe, but then right up to the bedroom. Reluctant now I have to take your word for that, too. And, love, and...

Darling. Hmm? Now what are you pondering? Only the possibilities. Come on, Anne. I'm starved. And it doesn't look as though we're going to get invited to dinner. What possibilities? Oh, only possibilities. There aren't any. Use your head. The roof leaks. That can't be resolved. That staircase. We'll obviously need a bit of fixing. But it's a positive slum. So water and elbow greens, me own dearie. Anne...

You're not mad about the idea, are you? No. You're obviously not. You're quite right. It's getting late. Oh, to hell with that. It's just that I thought getting away from it all was part of the general idea. We'd as good as settle for something on that new estate. Estate. Yes, there's always that. But who the hell wants to live in a boot box when there's the challenge of something like this? Challenge is right. Please.

Please, David. It might not even be on the market. It might, though. Well, at least think about it, please. Please. Idiot. All right, I'll think about it. But for God's sake, don't set your heart on it. I already have.

Ann needn't have worried. Ty's cottage was on the market. It had been for a very long time. And at the price, even David found it impossible to resist. They spent their first night there on a borrowed and very uncomfortable pair of cat beds. Ann slept like a top. David, hardly at all.

Breakfast was served amidst the debris of the old cottage's colors. And just as I was dropping off, those damn birds started their manic twittering. Piccadilly in the rush hour I can take, but those damn birds... Oh, not to worry, darling. Look at you, sir. Have to, won't I? God, look at the time. I must be off. What's on the agenda? Water and elbow grease. Oh, can't do much else till the sanity gets here. Well, they did promise midday, ladies. Yeah, so we all know what that means.

Anyway, I've arranged for a Mrs. Perkins from the village to come in and give me a hand. Mrs. Perkins? How rude. Ain't it just so? What about lunch and dinner? Oh, I'll pop in and do a shop once I've got things organized. Oh, don't worry, darling. When you get home, you won't know the old place. Somehow, I think I might. And what happened? From the start, nothing but hitches.

By midday, no furniture van and no reliable Mrs. Perkins. Anne decided to cut her losses. She left a note explaining her absence and set off across the fields to the village and the small general store. At least David wouldn't have an empty larder to add to the list of discomforts. It was early afternoon by the time she got back to the cottage and the surprise that awaited her.

Not only had the furniture been delivered, but Mrs. P had already got things very much in hand in the living room. The carpet down, the three-piece suite arranged very much as she would have chosen. And upstairs in the bedroom, her dressing table was just in the place that she would have chosen. Well, well, well. Clever old Mrs. Birkin's.

It wasn't until an hour or so later when that clever lady called up to her from the bottom of the stairs that she realized that something was amiss. Hello? Anybody home?

Mrs. Fordyce. Yes? Oh, don't be a little... Not you, Mrs. Perkins. Who do you look after? Oh, that should do it. I know, Mrs. Perkins.

Talk about the morass of century, isn't it? I bet they make them every sport. You find it getting chilly? Just give me a hand to pull this sheet off a little bit, and we can slam the door on it. Oh, there. Oh, that's better. That's a lovely old stuff there, Mum. Yes, my husband will have to rebalance it. Come on through to the living room. Would you like some tea? No, thank you, Mum. It's no trouble. I haven't mastered that stove, but we scrounged up a primus, so... No.

Really? Thank you, ma'am. Oh. Well, later then. Is something the matter, Mrs. Perkins? I've just come to say how sorry I am, I have. Sorry? Well, Jack, that's my husband. He says no need. No need to go apologizing for something that's not really of your making, he says.

But like I said, as far as that poor woman's concerned, all water under the bridge, none of it her doing. We're not to know who I say. Least I can do is to get out there now, Lou, and say how sorry I am for not being able to get here at all. Not able to get here at all?

Mrs. Packers, you did say... Come on up, then. Up? No. No, it's just that I had to go into the village for a few things, and I left you a note. But if you've just got here, you won't know about the note. No, ma'am. Anyway, it all took rather longer than I expected. Down in the village, I mean. But when I got back, most of the furniture was neatly stacked in the front garden. And this room, the range, just as you see it now.

I just took it for granted it was your day, you see. Oh, my dear. Mrs. Parkins? My dear Lord. Look, are you all right? Oh, sit down for a minute. Oh, yes. There should be some brandy. No. I'm all right in a minute. So...

Started already, I should say. She? I might have known. Should have expected it in view of what's gone afore. But it'd been such a long time now since the last couple moved out. Always townies. One foot inside that door and it's love at first sight. But no sooner settled than moving on again.

An alice of a sudden light. Didn't they give a reason? Most locals never got that close. None of our business was it. So what, call us to ask why he's in Red Forest? Just a moment ago you said, started again, has she?

Did I mean she? Did they say she? Two shoes. I'm sorry? Goody, two shoes. Now, you can smile. Just a name for her. Good as any other. Nursery rhyme name. No telling for why they first give it to her. But when I heard little Nade...

I used to listen to the old ones talking in the village and tell them a tale and smile, just smile. Tell me about her, Mrs. Parting. The right to know. The right to know. Well, abandoned on her wedding day at the church, according to your saying. Oh, not in so much thought in these days, but in good East time.

Well, even now possible to imagine the snidings and the whys and whispers on every tongue. This cottage is already unprepared, Finley. So, cause here she comes and stays and never ventures. Swear ain't never to be seen again by another living soul. Out the night and in the day was what they reckoned.

But not even the night poachers in the night ever caught a glimpse of her from wedding day on. Long dead when they finally notices no smoke from her chimney. Long, long dead. So, no face to be put to her, even in death. But seems grave all arranged and paid for.

Even something in her own hand wrote for her stone. Accept the gifts I offer. Accept them, come what may. But see but once there is work, unless you ruin your day. How did you know that, ma'am? I don't know.

But you've never even seen the grave of it. No. No, I haven't. Mrs. Perkins... Oh, sorry, ma'am. I must leave you now. Oh, but please. Mrs. Perkins, please. And as Anne turned back into the passageway, something different. The tea chest had gone. It now stood on the landing at the top of the stairs. The bedding it had contained was already neatly stacked...

in what she'd only just decided should be her linen cupboard. Even before she'd opened the door, she knew it would be there. It didn't really worry her. She'd already decided not to tell any of it to David. And then, several weeks later...

Happy? Need you ask? Just as... Well? As I always imagined it might be. More. Much more. Didn't I always tell you? The place had possibilities. I just hope you're not overdoing things, that's all. I've loved every minute of it. It's almost as though... Well? As though we owed it something. Which is why we came here. Meant...

Now it's loving us back in return. Idiot. Dear idiot. I'll just take these coffee things too. Is the woman from the village still coming in to give you a hand? No. Not anymore, darling. Oh? Well, her husband was taken ill. Quite suddenly. Oh?

She says she can't manage it anymore. When did she drop that on you? Oh, just recently. How recently? A week or so back. Then you'll have to look around for somebody else. No, we don't need anybody else. But... We don't, do you hear me? We don't, darling. Really, we don't. She didn't, of course.

If there had been any initial terror, it had long passed. She groaned to depend on her good fairy to take her for granted. It no longer even surprised her to leave the kitchen to return a few minutes later and find the dishes washed and stacked away. To find a fresh supply of logs in the polished hearth. Freshly baked bread and cakes when she entered the pantry.

If there was any motive in her continued silence, one had to look no further than David's praise of her. And yet, as the months passed, she felt the need of a wider, less captive audience.

Their old friends, Charles and Victoria, proved the obvious answer. When we got your invitation, Vicki and I had an each-way bet. No, I didn't. Don't fit, my love. Will you tell them? Take my word for it, she said. Either they've decided to throw in the rural Spartans or... Or...

Oh, poor David's gone over the orchard wall on his own and he's beseeching us to get the spare bedroom. Oh, kill him! Not that far from the truth. Oh, do tell. Oh, come on, darling. Don't mind admitting it. But you already are, son. Oh, I agreed to the getting away from it all and to hell with the rat race a bit. But, uh...

I wasn't too keen on ending up as Wurgel Gummidge while Better Half put on the old mop cap and got on with the jam-making out back. We did have our doubts. If you'd seen this place when we first set foot through the door, they'd have been more than justified. Better that else up? Worse.

I still thank God for a telephone in the village and a hotel within striking distance just in case. You see how it's all come out? Oh, you little face. I'll take your word for it, old chap. God, looking at the condition he's in now. It's just about six months, isn't it?

Just about. Positive miracle. Yes. Yes, I suppose it must seem like a bit of a miracle. You all right, darling? Fine. Everything's fine. Just felt a bit stuffy in here for a moment, that's all.

Charles. Victoria. A nice day to you. Anything else? Oh, not another crumb for me, darling. You sentenced me to a six-month pass, as it is. Oh, some boa, dear girl. Oh, super. Mmm. They see that country pie of yours. You know, I can't remember ever having shambled it before. It would be damn surprising if you had. Oh?

Mrs. Beaton, did you say, darling? Oh, previous to that concert. Have you seen us previous to that? Go on. Well, can we share a dark secret? It is no dark secret, ma'am. It is commonly made parts. Partridge, wood-pigeon, lark, sweet jelly-wrench, if you don't mind to ask, cider-soaked truffle, dill, peppercorn, fennel, and butter margarine. They have stood one year around. Ah, yes.

First catch your laugh, eh? I wonder if we can all do it from our local station way. Yes, yes, yes. Anne came across an old recipe book when she was clearing out the attic. Receipt, my sweet dear. Receipt. God knows how long it had looked there. Handwritten. Oh, fascinating. Crabbed like you'd never believe. Crabbed, you say? Well, it seemed easy enough for you.

Anyway, before you could say Mrs. Beaton's grandmother, we've resurrected the old herb garden, flirted with a local gamekeeper, and I've been playing your 18th century guinea pig ever since. You're not finding a fault, my sweet dear? So far from it. Um, can I give you a hand, you say? You stay out of there. You hear me? You hear well what I'm telling you. It is my place. Mine. No others. No damn call for her to go meddling in. You hear me? Anne.

Dolly. Your face is so...

It happened several months later. Summer had gone. Autumn was in the trees. Anne had started out to the village when she remembered her shopping list on the kitchen table. As she passed the half-drawn curtains of the living room windows, she caught her first glimpse of her. Small. Very small. Much older than I... Oh, how very old she looks. Not at all frightening, Phil. Such white hair...

pulled neatly into a tight bun at her neck, made to seem even whiter, I suppose, by her long black dress, hitching right to the ground from any age. And yet, if I stretched a little higher over the sill, I can just about see the stone floor.

And on tiptoe, peering over the window ledge, Anne saw, peeping out from under the hem of the long dress, a pair of black kid shoes, polished to brilliance. On their front, two very large, silver, shiny buckles. Then Anne looked up. For just the briefest of moments, their eyes met. Then the old lady was gone. Accept the gifts I offer. Accept them, come what may.

But see but once their giver. And live to rule the day. For God's sake, darling, haven't you made a move yet?

Here. Oh, thanks. Have to be a beaker, I'm afraid. Come to that about the only clean crock in the house. What? And why the hell didn't you let me give you a hand with the dinner things? Dinner things? Your gourmet specialities certainly go through one hell of a lot of pots and pans. It's ruddy chaos down there. But I did. What? No, nothing. They won't take me long. The way things are going lately, it'd be a damn sight better if we cleared the decks before we turned in. What?

On top of which, that damn cat must have knocked the sugar bowl over. It's all over the ruddy place. The fire won't catch because the sticks are damp and it rained in the night. So? So one of us seems to have left the living room window off the catch. Go hell, love. I don't even have a clean shirt. It was that first morning Anne began to realize things were not as they had been. That something was amiss.

Much as she tried, the shambles continued. The more she tried, the worse it got. Untidiness became chaos. Chaos turned to silk. She tried, but could do nothing to prevent it. Nothing, my dear, darling David. Nothing in the world.

Simply too much. Out of my hands. You see? You see? But why, love? Why? The change. There must be some reason. Beyond reason, my old dearie. All right. Perhaps I shouldn't have depended on you so much. Taking things for granted. If that's why. If it's something that can be put right. Don't laugh at me, damn you. Give me that. Don't laugh.

Please don't. Poor, dear David. Oh, poor, poor David. It's all my doing. I should have told you before, confided in you. But you've suddenly grown so proud of me. Too proud. See, I've grown to depend on it. She must have realized that, counted on that.

Right from the very first moment we walked through those doors. All those long years before. Just waiting for us. Who, my love? Her. But I don't understand. No. No, you could never understand. Too late to understand. Hold me closer. Oh, please hold me. I saw her, you see.

She told that once, but I should never have done that. It was the briefest glimpse. I should never have caught her. She hated me for that. That evening, even as David walked up the path, he sensed a change in the place. The smoke curling up from the chimney, the brass knocker again worked to a brilliant shine, just as he'd remembered it. Anne? Anne?

Anne? Anne, are you up there? It was in the kitchen he found her, dear Anne. She was wearing her favorite dress. She was smiling at him, so tender and sweet a smile.

as she swung gently back and forth from the heavy oak beams.

There was one other detail David took in, in that first horrendous moment. The chair she must have climbed on and then jumped from was back in its usual place, below the recently polished window. And then beneath the chair, something as incongruous as it was bewildering. A pair of shoes, of the old-fashioned kind.

Much too small for Anne, tiny. Low-heeled, kid leather, polished to brilliance. And in the front, two heavy, silver, shiny buckles. And reflecting in their shine, the swinging course. The End

David married again. The new Mrs. Fordyce was quite the opposite of Anne. Sophisticated, poised, almost glossy. She ran her own advertising agency far too well for her male competitors. On the domestic front, and only in a crisis, she could just about manage to top up a coffee percolator. Thatch Cottages gave a hay fever.

And yet the match seemed to work well enough. David probably prefers it this way. That was Goody Two Shoes, starring Michael Jaston as David Fordyce, Chandra Clark, Anne, and Daphne Heard, Mrs. Perkins, with Francis Jeter, Victoria, and Nigel Graham, Charles. The Price of Fear was presented by Vincent Price, written by William Ingram, and directed by John Dyer.

Ellery Queen. In the interest of a safer American home, a happier American community, a more united state, the American Broadcasting Company and its affiliated stations bring you Ellery Queen, celebrated fighter of crime. Ellery Queen.

As usual, Ellery invites you to match with him as he relates the mystery. And before revealing the solution, he gives you a chance to solve it. Tonight, Ellery's guest armchair detective, who will represent you home armchair detectives, is the popular vocalist, Miss Peggy Lee. And now, here's Ellery Queen, your host for the next half hour. Thank you, Paul Masterson, and good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Tonight we meet Mr. Mark Gallows, who played a very dangerous game. I call it One Diamond. And this is... Miss Eve Angel, Mr. Queen. How do you do? How do you do, Mr. Queen? Won't you sit down, Miss Angel? I'd love it. The notes, Nicky. Yes, Ellery. Is this your secretary? Yes.

Yes, I'm his secretary. But, Miss Angel, Miss Porter... How do you do? How do you do? And what can I do for you, Miss Angel? Mr. Queen, I've come to invite you for the weekend at the home of my employer. I'm tempted to say this is so sudden. Isn't there some mistake? Oh, no. I'm sure, Mr. Queen, you've heard of...

Mark Gallows. Mark Gallows? You work for Gallows? I'm Mr. Gallows' secretary. The Gallows Diamond. What, Nicky? The Gallows Diamond, Mallory. It's not been publicly displayed for... How long is it, Miss Angel? Forty or fifty years? That's the Gallows.

You are an efficient secretary, Miss Porter, aren't you? I do my little best, Miss Angel. But I don't get this, Miss Angel. I've never met Mr. Gallows. Why should he invite me for a weekend? Because I asked him to. Oh. I'm to be your guest? In a way. What, Nicky? Nothing. I just went. Will you come? Yes. Goody, goody, a weekend off. Oh, no, Nicky. You're coming with me. For notes, Ellery? Yes. Yes.

For notes. Do come to, Miss Porter. For notes. Friday afternoon, Mr. Queen, at the Riverdale Estate. Miss Angel. Yes? Why did you ask Mr. Gallows to invite me? See you Friday. Au revoir. Interesting. Yes, isn't she? No, no, I mean the invitation, Nicky.

Of course, this is Gallows doing. Not her idea at all. Want to bet? Oh, don't be silly, Nicky. There's skullduggery involved. Is Gallows the type? Mark Gallows? Don't you know anything about him, Nicky? Just that he's one of the richest men in America. He's a misophobe. A who-sophobe? Afflicted with misophobia, Nicky. Morbid fear of dirt. Dirt? Mm-hmm. Gallows is supposed to have a gold-plated washstand in every room he commonly uses so that he can wash his hands on a second's notice. Oh.

Oh, you're kidding. No, that's the story. Buys germicides by the gallon. Picks strange objects up with a specially sterilized tissue. Must be rough on his wife. No, fortunately, he's not married. I wonder what's behind this invitation. A two-legged word spelled E-V-E. Oh, no, no, Nicky. She's just bait. I'll answer it right away, Ellery. Oh, never mind, Nicky. I'll go. Yes? Nobody here. Who is it?

Hillary, what was that? That sounded just like a sh... Hillary. Hillary.

Ellery? No, but Ellery, you can't. What are you thinking of, son? Oh, he's a fool, Inspector. You're not getting out of this bed, Ellery, and that's that. But I'm all right, I tell you. All right. With a bullet wound in your arm? It's nothing, just a flesh wound. You heard the doctor. It's that woman, that's what it is. Oh, it's not...

that woman at all, Nicky. It's the whole thing. You think the attempt on your life is connected with the invitation, son? When I'm shot at within two minutes, Dad...

Of course. Somebody followed Eve Angel, guessed her purpose, and tried to rub me out. But why? To keep me from going to the gallows place this weekend, Nicky. Which is why I'll be there if I have to go in an ambulance. And come back in a hearse. Ellery, be sensible. You're still shaky, son. I'm going. You're not. I won't let you, Ellery. By gosh, I'm still your father, and you'll do as I say. THE END

And this is the gold room, Mr. Queen. Really royal, Miss Angel. That is a washstand, isn't it? Yes, Miss Porter. By the way, when you meet Mark, I'd suggest you don't offer to shake hands.

germs, you know. Germs. I suppose we all have them. Yes. Let's go out onto the terrace. I want you to meet Mark's other houseguests. Oh, I think that would be delightful. We have a sort of international house here this weekend, Mr. Queen. Oh, really? Mark and I are Americans. Sidney Duff Brown, the Englishman.

Cornelius Van Cleek of Holland, and Reginald Doss, who's an Anglo-Indian. What's the matter, Mr. Queen? Oh, nothing, Miss Angel. You bumped my sore arm. Oh, I am sorry. Shots? Yes, shots. Oh, dear. Now I'll have to be so careful not to let you get romantic, Mr. Queen. By the way, before we go out there, when you meet Mr. Duff Brown, Mr. Van Cleek, and Mr. Doss...

Could you act just a little mysterious? Just to impress the moon, you know. The great detective. Oh, would it make you happy, Miss Angel? Oh, very. Then I'll do my best. This is going to be such an exciting weekend. Shall we go out? Yes, I think that would be a good idea. It's right this way. Oh, there they are.

Gentlemen. Ah, Miss Angel again. Ah, with Marguerite. George, I didn't know we were going to have any competition. Miss Porter and Mr. Queen. Mr. Reginald Doss. How do you do, Mr. Doss? Mr. Cornelius Van Cleek. Glad to know you. And Mr. Sidney Duff Brown. How do you do, Mr. Duff Brown? I'll fix something for you people in a moment. Miss Porter, is it? That's right, Mr. Van Cleek. Nicky Porter. Watch Van Cleek, Miss Porter. He's a lady killer. Oh.

or he thinks he is. Now, don't mind those fellows. What do you do, Miss Porter? Except be beautiful, I mean. I work for Mr. Queen here. Work for him? In trade? By George, incredible. This is an amazing country. Well, not half so amazing as Nicky, Mr. Doss. I really don't know what I'd do without her. Working for Mr. Queen isn't really being in trade, Mr. Duff Brown. No. Definitely not. You see...

He's Ellery Queen, the famous detective. Detective? Really? Your drink, Mr. Queen. Oh, thank you very much. Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Porter. I forgot yours.

What can I get you? Not a thing, thank you. But the detective, Mr. Queen, this is exciting. I quite agree with Mr. Das. Are you here socially, Mr. Queen? Or are you after one of us? Why, Mr. Van Cleek, do you gentlemen have guilty conscience? Oh, dear, that's Mark. Yes, Mark. Is that that fellow Queen out there? Yes. Bring him in here.

Is Mr. Gallows in the habit of referring to all his guests as that fellow, Miss Angel? Never mind, Nicky. If you gentlemen will excuse us. Back through this terrace door, Miss Angel. That's right. This way, please. Miss Angel, there's something very strange going on here. Will you come this way, please? It's right in here. Oh, there you are.

Confound it, Eve. You've got to do something about Reeves. He put my newspaper in my desk without spraying it first. I'll discharge him right away, Mark. Here, I'll get you a sterile towel. No, no, don't touch it, Eve. Well, so this is the famous celery queen. And my secretary, Miss Porter. How do you do? I'm afraid, Queen, we've rather put one over on you. Have you, Mr. Gallant? Oh, it does seem such a waste, Mark. He's so attractive. Then you were bait, Miss Angel.

All right, Mr. Gallows, now that you've got me here, what next? Why, Queen, now you leave. What? That's right. He served his purpose, my girl. You'll please leave now, Queen. So... This way out. Hillary, Queen, are you going to stand here and let me leave? No, no, Nicky. Mr. Gallows... Oh, dear. He's going to be difficult. There's no difficulty, Eve, that can't be smoothed out with a little money.

Send me your bill, Queen, whatever your fee is. I don't charge fees. No? Then what do you live on? Nuts. I don't know exactly what double-dealing intrigue you've whipped up here, Mr. Gallows, but certain things are fairly obvious. Are they? This interests me, Queen. What's obvious? You're the owner of one of the most famous diamonds in the world. You have three houseguests, Mr. Duff Brown of England, Mr. Das of India, and Mr. Van Cleek of Holland. England is the spearhead of the world's diamond trade.

India's Maharajas are the world's greatest collectors of precious stones. Holland is the capital of the world's lapidaries. I'd say Duff Brown, Das, and Van Cleek are here to buy your diamond, Mr. Gallows. Be quiet. Yes, Mr. Queen? Why, we're suddenly all politeness. Why you schemed to have me put in an appearance here, I don't know. But...

Would it interest you, Mr. Gallows, to learn that within minutes of Miss Angel's visit to my home, I was shot at with intent to kill? Your arm. Mark, where were you? Nonsense. That can't have anything to do with me. Somebody didn't want me to show up here, Mr. Gallows. You're a writer, aren't you? Yes. This is real life. Get out. Mr. Gallows, you're an idiot. Come on, Nicky.

Excellent, excellent brandy, Mr. Gallagher. I'm glad you like it, gentlemen. Now, Eve. Yes, Mark? Go out there and close the door and stand in front of it. Keep those long-nosed flunkies of mine away, do you understand? Mark, you're going to... Go ahead, go ahead. Oh, but I wanted to see it. Eve, I said get out of here. All right, Mark. Gentlemen, will you excuse me? Oh, no, don't bother to get up, please.

Have fun. Thank you. Well, gentlemen. I have the very odd feeling, me conflare, that this is the great moment. Hadn't you better have someone lock that door, sir? My estate is well patrolled, Duff Brown. Ah, stardass. You don't look very interested. This is an old story with me, Mr. Gallus. Is it? Then look at this.

Around 150 carats, Mr. Gallows. 162 and three quarters, Mr. Fincliffe. Larger than the Port of Rhodes from Kimberley. And of just as fine a water, Duff Brown. May I examine this, Mr. Gallows? Certainly, Doss, certainly. Doss, let me see that. I have one moment, Mr. Duff Brown. The gallows I am colossal. My father's wedding gift to my mother. Very sentimental man, my darling. His will provided that the stone mustn't be touched for 25 years after my mother's death.

It's been a great trial, many gentlemen. Very unproductive. Money gathers money. Diamonds gather dust. It does. Do you like it? Mr. Gallows, it is quite the most superb imitation I have ever seen. Imitation? I say, Ventric, stop pushing. By George, it's not genuine. This is a jest, Mr. Gallows. I have come all the way from Amsterdam. This is an exact copy.

Worthless, of course. But sufficient for you gentlemen to base your bids on. When may we see that genuine stone, Mr. Gallows? It won't be exhibited, Van Cleek, until I get what I consider a selling bid. Confirmed by the principal for whom you're acting as agent. I can't say, Mr. Gallows, I feel entirely comfortable. I've never had my integrity questioned before. Nor I. Nor I. I'm sorry. I have to be careful, gentlemen.

You forced me to show my hand. What do you mean, sir? That fellow Queen, the detective whom I had Miss Angel invite a few days ago for the weekend. Actually, she engaged him on my behalf to check up on you gentlemen. Yes, sir. What is your meaning? Queen came here today to tell me the result of his investigation. He tells me that one of you was a fraud and an imposter. Imposter? Yes. An international jewel thief who's here with forged credentials.

Can you blame me for being careful, then? Oh, Eve, Eve, you should have seen their faces. You're so clever, Mark. You think I'm not, though? Oh, I get a kick out of this sort of thing, Eve, outsmarting them. You don't know these fellows the way I do, Eve, Eve. They're canny traders. They take their time. But they won't in this case.

Why, they'll fall all over themselves, proving they're not fakes. Each one will rush to make his bid and present me with confirming authority from his principal. Things are going to hum around here, darling. And I'll bet you I get 20% more for the diamond. Mark. What? Look at this. Get that charred scrub of paper? What is it? Take it. Read it. What's the matter with you? Wait till I spray it.

So you invented the story that one of them is a crook, did you? When, of course, all the time they're all honest men. I don't know what you're talking about. Where'd you find this, Eve? Living room fireplace. It just missed getting burned. Of course, it doesn't say much. Wait a minute. This is the beginning of a letter. To me. I didn't see this. Neither did I. Dear Mr. Gallows, we regret that our representative has been delayed.

Will not be able to arrive in the United States until May 15th to inspect the gallows... Eve. Eve, my lie was true. One of them is an imposter. Where's the rest of this, Eve? Talk, talk, will you? The envelope, the rest of the letterhead. Who is this from? Which one does this refer to? Mark, you'll have another attack. One of them intercepted the mail this morning. He must have been watching for this very letter. Maybe the rest of the letter's in the fireplace. Eve, wait. Mark, wait a minute. I searched the ashes. This is all that was left. Get...

Get Queen on the phone. Ellery Queen? But, Mark, he will come now after... Get Queen! Yes, Ellery? Mark Gallows. Said he kept calling me all night, Nicky? What for? He wouldn't tell me. Said he had to see you and right away. Did you tell the great Mr. Gallows that Dad and I were out all night on another case? Yes. Do you want me to call him? No, no, Nicky.

Anything interesting in the mail this morning? I haven't finished. Let's see. Bill, fan letter. Special delivery. Special delivery. I didn't notice it, Ellery. From Mark Gallows. From Gallows? Apparently, Mr. Gallows is in a tizzy. Let's see. Dear Mr. Queen, you've got to help me. One of my guests is an imposter. What? Huh. Huh.

He used me, Nicky, to scare Das, Duff Brown, and Van Cleek into thinking one of them was an imposter, to force a quick sale, and then, by gosh, he found out one of them really is. Oh, serves him right. Expose the imposter, protect the diamond till the sale goes through, and, Mr. Queen, I'll pay you 10% of the sales price as a fee. Don't you dare turn him down. I need a raise. It's this way. The diamond has been buried on my Riverdale estate for years. Buried? Yes.

I enclose a copy of my original map showing the hiding place. If anything should happen to me... Oh, darn it. I'll take it. Hello? Nicky? Oh, Inspector. Let me talk to Ellery, will you? Oh, yes. Ellery, it's for you, Inspector. Dan?

Yes, Dad? Your friend Mark Gallows... Gallows? Yes, what's happened? He's committed suicide. Suicide? Mark Gallows? Hanged himself from a rafter in his barn. Dad, keep everything the way you found it. What do you mean? I'm coming right up there. For what? I tell you, Ellery committed... Dad, sight unseen. He was murdered. Mickey, come on.

Oh, my God.

You men, kite down! Well, son... Murder. But, Ellery... I'm sorry, Dad, it's murder. I don't know how you can say that, Ellery. Neither do I, man found hanging from a rafter, not a clue to a second person. Look at this rope he was hanged with. What about it? The rope comes from this barn, Ellery. It's filthy. It's what? His phobia. That's it, Nicky. Dad, Gallo suffered from a morbid fear of dirt. Now, there were two ropes in this barn, this dirty one here and that clean one hanging over there.

Even approaching death, Gallows would have used the clean one if he was going to hang himself. Huh? Gallows was strung up, Dad. And almost certainly by one of those three diamond buyers. The imposter. Imposter? What imposter? No doubt about it, Nicky. No doubt about what? I'm afraid we're a little ahead of you on this one, Dad.

Are Van Cleek, Das, and Duff Brown still here? Yes. You better hold them here for a while and keep them out of my way. Why? What are you going to do? Dad, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I give up. You men. Yeah? One of you watch the body. The rest of you come with me. All right, Joe. You better stay here. Ellery, what are you going to do? Look, Mr. Gallo's over. Turn around, Nicky. Oh. What are you looking for? Gallo sent me a copy of the map.

Where would he keep the original? I'd say it's an even better way to keep it. He carried it on him, Nicky. In a secret pocket, you mean? Yes. Or here. What? Leather pouch around his waist, next to the skin. Is it in there? Oh, no. It's empty. His killer took the map. Yes. But how would the killer know? About the map? Uh, Nicky, do you think you can stand a look at Gallo's face? Well...

Awfully dead-looking. And dirty. See here, Nicky. Dirt around his mouth. I think our diamond hunter tortured Gallows into telling his secret. By putting dirt in his mouth. His phobia. Really nasty, Nicky. Why are you looking at the copy of the map, Ellery? Killer has the original. Must have dug up the diamond. I know, Nicky, I know. Let's take a look anyway, shall we? THE END

maps, buried treasure. Why didn't he put the blasted Bobby in a bank vault where it belongs? I think this is exciting. There is something gold-buggish about it, Mickey. Well, let's see. Uh-huh. I think this is it. What's it? This tree, Dad. It's our starting place. Here, look at Gallo's map.

I guess so. On this tree, you go due south. And then due west, and X marks the spot. Wonderful. Due south, due west. But how far? It just says 10 on the first leg and 10 on the second. 10 what? Miles? Now, don't be sarcastic, Inspector. Not miles or feet or inches either, because then it wouldn't be far enough to cross that brook, and the south leg on the map does cross the brook. Right, Nicky. Therefore, it must mean yards. Dad, let me have that compass and yardstick, will you? Here. Here.

Which is this way. One yard, two, three... Hey! What, Inspector? Look at this, Nicky. A sort of trail in the grass. Ellery, see this trail? I saw it, Dad. I'm right on it. Heller's been here before us. Didn't I tell you, Ellery? Try it. Come on, Nicky.

Here, watch this rope. Oh, gosh, I'm getting all wet. Very treasured. Here's the trail again. And this is the end of the ten yards, Dad. But the trail keeps going, Ellery, in the same direction. Uh-huh, another yard. Keller went 11 yards due south. Yeah, and then he turned west. Two...

Three, four... And parallel your route. A yard away? I don't understand. How far does the map say you've got to go west, Ellery? Another ten yards. Nine, ten. But the killer's trail keeps going, son. Here. Catch him.

Another yard. Exactly. Again, he went 11 yards instead of 10. Funny. Wait. What is it, Dad? Ellery, come here. Let Mickey stand on this spot, the end of the 10 yards west, so we don't lose it. X marks the spot. Or does it? What, Dad? Look here.

Somebody dug here, then filled up the hole. He found it, son. That map we've been following must be wrong. Darn it. For sure it must be wrong. After all, he had the original. Gallus must have deliberately falsified the figures on the map he sent you, Hillary. I doubt it. Maybe the killer didn't find the diamond. Maybe he was wrong, and we're right. There's only one way to find out, son. Uh-huh. Well, Nicky, hand me that shovel. Uh-huh.

When you strike water, Ellery, let me know. No sign of anything yet, son. Not yet, Dad. Wait. Here it is. The diamond? No. Metal box. Pretty well chewed up, too. Dad, give me a hand up. Here, son. Just a rusty old box. No, I think it's so eaten away, it'll give without much trouble. It's diamond. Diamond.

Holy smokes, son. Is that real, Ellery? It's real, Nicky. So the killer knocked off old Gallus for nothing. Dug in the wrong place. Yes. Well, now let's go back to the house and finish this off. ♪♪

And there you have our mystery for tonight. Nikki, would you please introduce our very lovely and charming guest armchair detective for our listeners? Certainly, Ellery. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Miss Peggy Lee, the popular vocalist who has made Manana and her Capitol Records album, Rendezvous with Peggy Lee, both of which have set the public humming and dancing. Welcome, Peggy, to the armchair.

Say, you know, it's too bad that we don't have a little more time. Then we could hear you sing one of the songs from that Rendezvous with Peggy Lee album. Which you did in cooperation with your husband, Dave Barber. Well, Ellery, right now I'm too nervous to sing anything. I've never been a detective before. In this case tonight, I was missing the downbeat, if you know what I mean. I'm afraid you're just jesting, Peggy. Anyway, what about our case? Tell me, have you figured out who hanged Mark Gallo's...

Well, I couldn't say exactly, I couldn't exactly name one person, but I think that Eve Angel had something to do with it because she knew all about his fear of dirt. And I think that she probably was the only one who could intercept the letter that was partly burned.

and also that she was the only one who would know about the map. And he may have told her the wrong directions. Just throw her off? Yeah, I think so. That's a very interesting deduction, and thank you very much, Peggy Lee. We'll find out in just a moment if your solution is correct. Now here's Paul Masterson. What's the picture for your pocketbook in 5, 10, 15 years?

It depends in large part upon the use to which you put your money today. Buying United States security bonds today serves two important purposes. It takes out of circulation money which would compete with somebody else's for scarce commodities.

The second important reason for buying bonds is to make sound investments. Your plans for the future, whether you want something set aside to make leisure time enjoyable, whether you want to establish a business of your own or send your children to college, there is no better way to ensure those plans than to buy United States security bonds today. ♪♪

I will not be held indefinitely. I'm a subject of his majesty. Will you stop that weeping? You give me a headache. Oh, but he was so kind to me. Miss Angel, if you please. What's this nonsense about murder, Inspector Queen? Yes, the man hanged himself. You said so yourself, sir. Yes, I did, didn't I, Mr. Dyer? You people all through? All right. Go ahead, son.

Unfortunately, Gallo's murderer made a mistake. Mr. Gallo sent me a copy of that map, and by following its directions exactly, I located the spot where he buried the Gallo's diamond. How did the killer miss it? Well, what were the directions? To go ten-something due south, and then ten-something due west. We assumed that the figure ten referred to yards, as they did. Since by going ten yards south, and then ten yards west, we did find the diamond.

Then the killer did not take the figure 10 to mean yards, or he'd have found the right spot, too. He took it to mean a different unit of measurement. Mickey, exactly how far did the killer measure? 11 yards instead of 10, each way. He reads the figure 10 and measures off 11 yards. Now, how can that be? Only if, in the kind of measure he was using, 10 units equal 11 yards.

And which unit of measurement is that? The meter. The meter? That's right. Meters exceed yards in exactly the proportion of 11 to 10. But that gives us our criminal. Oh, I do not see that. Van Cleek, you're not alone. How does that give you your criminal, Mr. Cream? It tells me, Mr. Doss, that the killer of gallows thinks in terms not of yards, but of meters. Could that be Miss Angel? Me? No, it couldn't.

Miss Angel is an American, and we use yards, not meters. So do we in Britain, Mr. Queen. That's quite true, Mr. Duff Brown. And so do the Hindus, especially one as anglicized as Mr. Reginald Doss. Fortunately for me, sir. But almost all of continental Europe uses the metric system, including, of course, the Dutch. Hillary! Stop it, Van Cleese! Stop it! You have the advantage of me, Mr. Inspector.

And there, ladies and gentlemen, you have the solution to our mystery. Thank you, Peggy Lee, for serving as our guest armchair detective this evening. As mementos of the occasion, I have for you a copy of my latest mystery anthology, The Queen's Awards, 1947, and a subscription to Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine.

And here's Mr. Masterson. Panting, Mr. Q. About next week, I mean. Suppose I give you a good reason to pant, Paul. Want to meet a movie star? Are you kidding? Where? Where is she, Ellery? Uh, Mickey? Yes, Ellery? Mind stepping over here, Miss Porter? Me? What's the matter with you? Paul, and ladies and gentlemen, I want you to meet... Mickey Porter, starlet.

This is Ellery Queen saying goodnight till next week and enlisting all Americans every night and every day in the fight against bad citizenship, bigotry, and discrimination, the crimes which are weakening America. ♪♪

All names used on this program are fictitious and do not refer to real people either living or dead. Among members of tonight's cast were Howard Culver, Herb Butterfield, Kay Brinker, Joan Banks, Bill Boucher, Wilms Herbert, Eric Snowden, and Sidney Miller. Music was by Rex Corey, direction by Dwight Hauser. Entire production under the supervision of Ellery Queen.

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