WISHES CAN BE FATAL: Her Innocent Looking Embroidery Is Supernatural And Deadly | Paranormal & Crime
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The Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Inner Sanctum. I am the Whistler.

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

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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.

This is an unusual story about an unusual grandmother who, without really being able to explain it, performed an act of the supernatural. Yes, supernatural, because sitting in her room in a nursing home, working on a needlepoint portrait of her old house, she somehow brought her son to his senses and created peace where there was chaos.

It began in the strangest way. Nell Atterwood's grandson, Rick, 25, was paying her a visit at the home. What's that you're working on, Grandma? A picture of my old house. Oh, a copy of the needlepoint in Dad's living room. More or less. You've left out the maple tree by the side of the house. Oh, it never should have been there in the first place, Rick. Killed the grass. I've taken it out. So did the windstorm night before last. What?

And the old maple blew over. Did you know that? Oh, funny coincidence, isn't it? Our mystery drama, Wishes Can Be Fatal, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Roy Windsor and stars Carmen Matthews.

It is sponsored in part by Buick Motor Division and Anheuser-Busch Incorporated, brewers of Budweiser. I'll be back shortly with Act One. Are thoughts just dreams until their effects have been tried? Maybe. I'm not sure.

If you have a thought and act on it, you will find out if it's useful or foolish. But what about thoughts you don't act on? Is any one of them strong enough to affect someone else? Extrasensory perception, for instance. Some psychologists use that phrase to explain clairvoyance and telepathy. Can we deny them? And can a thought not acted on

Act of itself. Evening, darling. Well, why are you home so early? It's only 5.30. The buyer canceled the appointment. I'm afraid he's decided on some other house. And there goes your commission. That's the way it goes in real estate. We could have used that money. I know it. We're overspent. We'll have to cut down, Elsa. Cut down where? We didn't need the new car. Not right after you had the kitchen redone.

I just can't afford... The old car was six years old and falling apart. It made me feel creepy driving it. You know, you don't know what it's like for a new wife to move into a house where you lived with her and two children and your mother. Ghosts in every room. That car was hers, so was the kitchen, and our bedroom was her bedroom. We ought to sell this old ark and buy a place of our own. I like the house. My roots are here. Well, mine aren't.

Look, Ed, your mother's in a home. Yeah, whenever I think about it, I feel rotten. Nothing wrong with my mother. She didn't belong here with us. It was her home. She owned it. And gave it to you. She wasn't happy with me here. She didn't expect you to remarry. She's better off in a nursing home than in this old place. Darling, why must we always argue about my mother and the house? It's mine. My mother never visits, and my children are off on their own. I just feel smothered by your past.

Ed, let's sell the house. Move to Florida. Real estate's big business down there. In no time, you'd be making all kinds of money. And think of the weather and the beaches and being away from all of this. Is that what you really want? Yes, Ed. I'm just stifled here. And it's what I'm going to have one way or the other.

Let me think about it. What's there to think about? For one thing, money. Well, this house is worth something. Not too much after I pay back the mortgage. But the money you borrowed can be added to the sales price. A lot of it went into repairs. And the new car. And the new kitchen. And into redecorating. And into my mink coat. Okay, say it. You're thinking it.

Am I supposed to run around in rags? Oh, I don't begrudge you any of these things, Elsa. I'm just saying they cost money. And I'm just not selling enough to keep up with the expenses. Well, ask your mother to help out. Ask my mother? Why not? She's still got a substantial income from stocks and savings. After giving me the house, you want me to ask her for more help? What if I cozy up to her? I don't think I'd try, Elsa. Elsa...

She's 74, but she's as sharp as a razor. No, I wouldn't try that. Where are you going? Upstairs to lie down for half an hour. Oh, did they come over and cut that old maple into logs? Yes, they stacked it in the cellar. Sorry about losing that old tree. That's odd. What's odd? The needlepoint picture of the house. What about it? I could swear that when my mother made it for us, the old maple was right there. It's gone. Gone?

Well, you're mistaken. If it was there, how could it not be there now? The real maple's gone, blown over by the wind, and the maple in the picture is now gone. I find that very strange. THE END

Hey, Paul, how's my favorite sister? Fine. What's this favorite sister jazz? I'm the only sister you've got. True, true. So, this is it. I like it. Not bad, right?

This little living room, a bedroom, and kitchen, all for $175 and utilities. Pretty good location, too. The shore road's okay. Yeah, yeah. I like it. Well, sit down, Rick. Hey. Mother's old Windsor chair. I'll be darned. Dad said I could have it, and Marie Antoinette couldn't have cared less. She goes for ultra-modern in aluminum and fake leather. I took some other old things, too, and some photographs.

I always liked that one you took of Mother and Dad. Yeah. Yeah, I like it, too. What a mess. But it's a fact, and we have to live with it. Oh, he could have fallen for that selfish, tasteless chorus girl I'll never... Model, not chorus girl. Oh, I don't know. He's only 51 and lost after Mother died. Long comes this girl, Elsa, whose teeth can cut steel. What are you going to do about it? Nothing. Nothing.

She drove Grandma into a nursing home. We couldn't stand to live there. I'm sorry for Dad, but I'm glad I've got a place of my own. What if we found a big place? Two or three bedrooms and the three of us moved in? Three? Which three? You and I and Grandma. I hate to think of her in that nursing home. She seems to be doing all right.

I don't know, Paul. The idea that the three of us together doesn't really send me... Oh, she'd love to keep house for us. Maybe, but we're not kids. We've got our own friends. Now, I love Grandma, but I don't see myself as her little boy again. Or you, too. No, no, no. Gran is all right. She's lonely for what was, I suppose. I worry about Grandma. Don't. She's well. She just needle points. Right now, she's making another portrait of the old house. Oh, that's sad. Yeah. Yeah.

It's something else, too. Her copy hasn't got the old maple tree in it. You remember the one? I carved my initials in it when I was six. Well, maybe she's forgotten the tree. No. She's leaving it out because it's no longer there. But the tree blew down night before last, and Grandma didn't know about it. That's off the wall. Weird, right? How are you, Mother Atterwood? What else, uh...

What an unexpected surprise. Do sit down. Oh, thank you. How are you, my dear? Quite well, thank you. Ed sends his regards. Well, that's very nice of my son. And how are you? No complaints.

This is a nice nursing home. Old folks' home, I should say. Not many need nursing. I managed to fill my time and get outside whenever I want a change of scenery. I went into the city last week with a friend and had a glorious time last Wednesday. Took in a matinee and had supper at a very good Italian restaurant on 53rd Street. Sounds wonderful.

Theater, dinner. We haven't been in the city since before Christmas. Can't afford it. Oh? I thought Ed was doing quite well. Not well enough to keep up with expenses, and we've had a lot of them lately. I even suggested he sell the house and we move to Florida. Oh, and you'd like that? Oh, I'd like anything better than being cooped up where I am. Then I think that that's what you ought to do. Sell and move.

You mean that? Of course. I don't say what I don't mean, Elsa. You know that. Well, Ed's reluctant to be so far away from you and his children. I'm content. And the children are hardly children. Rick's 25 and Polly, let me see, no more than 23. Tell Ed not to let us stand in his way. He's begun a new life with you.

Well, I'm surprised to hear you say that. You're much happier with me here and with Rick and Polly elsewhere. Isn't that true? That's a harsh way of putting it. It's not sentimental if that's being harsh. If we sold the house, a lot of the money would have to be used to pay off our debts. I'm surprised you have debts. Oh, we've got a list a mile long. And when they're paid off, there won't be much left to start a new life in Florida.

So, I wondered if... I think not, Elsa. Why not? It's your son. And you have more money than you'll ever need. He's also over 21. If he's been imprudent, he'll have to economize. But we can't go to Florida with just a few thousand dollars. Florida isn't going to run away. Get out of debt, and it will be waiting there to welcome you. You wouldn't consider... My dear Elsa...

Under no circumstances whatsoever. What? Oh, no. Poor Chin Chin, that poor little dog. Who ran over him? What? Left him to die in the street. That's horrible. He's where? My husband will come get him.

Chin Chin. Oh, poor Chin Chin. Hey, what's the matter, darling? Here, hang up the telephone. Oh, Ed, someone ran over Chin Chin and killed him. And left him to die in the street. Oh, I'm so sorry, darling. I really am. Please don't cry. You hated Chin Chin. How can you say that? You called him a nasty little mob. I liked him. Where is he now? Is it the Humane Society?

I don't want him destroyed. We'll bury him in the backyard. All right. I'll drive over there now. Will you be all right? I will never be all right. First, your rotten mother... Now watch it, Elsa. She is selfish. I told her our plans and she said that under no circumstances would she help us. And she's quite right. We're stuck right here until I get us out of debt. But I don't want to stay here. She's a selfish, nasty old woman. I'll be back soon.

Well, I'll be darned. Elsa, come here. Look at the needlepoint picture. That miserable thing. I hate it. When my mother made it for us for a wedding present, she put Chin Chin in it. Down here in the middle of the front lawn. Do you remember that? Yes. Well, where is Chin Chin in the picture? Gone. He's gone. Chin Chin is dead and his picture is gone. Get that thing out of the room before I destroy it.

Get it out or I'll destroy it! Remarkable. Can a wish become an act? In what other way can we explain that as old Mrs. Atterwood makes a copy of her original needlepoint portrait of her former house, omitting certain items from the copy, those same items disappear from the original?

Even more remarkable is the terrifying disappearance of the real items, the tree and the Pekingese dog. More when we continue with Act Two shortly. I don't suppose there's anyone who at one time or another hasn't said, I could kill him or I wish you were dead. Angry remarks soon forgotten.

And, of course, we've all heard the expression, if thoughts could kill. Now, is that possible? Well, my goodness, the two of you. Please sit down. How are you, Grandma? Oh, just fine. Are they treating you okay? If they didn't, they'd hear about it, Rick. No, no, it's a nice enough place. But it's not home. Well, yes, it is.

A home for the homeless. Oh, that sounds sad. Well, it isn't really, Polly. Most of the people here just couldn't manage homes of their own any longer. The time comes when others have to manage for them. I'm still spry enough to run a vacuum and put a meal on the table, but...

Not alone in a home of my own. I wouldn't like to live that way. Too lonely. I wish all of us still lived in your old house. Well, we don't. And it's just about time you stopped mooning about it. Times change. Nothing ever remains the same. Your old house is too full of good memories for me. Well, treasure them. But live for the present.

You have your own life to lead, Polly. Don't moon about what was. My goodness, that's just about all that I listen to around here. So you want to stay here? Why, of course. It's not bad at all, and I get out whenever I please. But you still think about the good life we had in the old house, don't you, Grandma? Well, I mean, why else are you making a copy of that needlepoint picture of the house in the grounds? Well, yes.

I admit, the house holds many memories for me. The needlepoint portrait is a kind of talisman for me, a reminder. Sentimental nonsense, I suppose. Grandma, may I see your needlepoint? Certainly, my dear. It's here in my bag. There you are. You see, Paul? What did I tell you? No maple tree. Oh, where's that dog? Huh?

Oh, hey, no chin-chin. Well, I'm glad you left him out, Grandma, nasty little dog. I agree. He gave me a good nip when I was still living there. Well, it's going to be a lovely picture, Grandma. And much airier without the maple. And more serene without Elsa's pet. Yes.

You're idealizing it, right, Grandma? Well, I suppose you might say that, Rick. In the original picture, I put in everything that should be there. House, trees, shrubs, the three of you, and Elsa and her Pekingese. In my copy, I'm just going to keep what the house ideally ought to be. And that doesn't include the old maple or the dog. And nature sure cooperated with you about the tree.

You, um... You got any more magic up your sleeve? Rick. Well, nice to see you. Hi, Dad. All right if I come in? Now, what kind of question is that? Well, you might be busy. Come in. That's... That's not what you meant, Rick, is it?

Sit down. Can I get you something? No, no thanks. Is Elsa at home? She's upstairs. Very upset. Chin Chin got run over late this afternoon and was killed. Oh, I'm sorry. That's too bad. I know how much Elsa loved that dog. Yeah. Yeah.

Well, how come you decided to stop by? I was in the neighborhood. Polly and I had a visit with Grandma, and I just kind of naturally drifted down here. How is Grandma? Sharp as a tack. You ought to visit her more often, Dad. If you don't mind my saying so, I guess Elsa paid her a visit today. Yeah. I asked her not to. I knew what would happen. Your grandmother tell you why Elsa came to see her? Polly and I kind of dragged it out of her, something about money. Yeah.

I'm in debt. And it's my own fault. She's done enough for me. I'd never ask her for another cent. Yeah. I, uh... I see the old maple's gone. Yeah, we had to cut into logs and store it in the cellar. Mm-hmm. And Chin Chin's dead. That's right. What's that about Chin Chin? Oh, uh... Hi, Elsa. Darling, you ought to be resting. How can I sleep when all I can think about is that poor little dog? He was killed this afternoon, Rick. Yeah, so Dad just told me, uh...

Sorry, Elsa. Thank you. But you didn't like him. Nobody liked him except me. And your grandmother hated him. I know. That's what's funny. What's funny? Well, the old maple blows down, then the dog dies. Have you had a careful look at the needlepoint picture of the old house? We're going to destroy it. The tree and the dog both are gone from it as if somebody had just picked out the stitches.

Have you gotten rid of it, Ed? It's in the cellar. I want it burned before something else happens to us. Darling, what has the picture got to do with what's happened? Everything. There is something evil about it. Can you explain how you can take a tree out of a picture and then the real tree blows over? I'm going down in the cellar and cut the thing to pieces. Don't do that, Elsa. No, I can't explain how the picture changes and predicts the future. But don't destroy the picture. It might tell us...

What will happen next? Who is it? Me, Rick. Oh, just a second. Oh, it's almost 11, Rick. Yeah, yeah, I've been at Dad's. I told you why I was going to go over there and see him. And? Well, the dog is dead. Elsa's darling little chin-chin was killed late this afternoon. Oh, that's far out, Rick. That's just what it is, far out.

Grandma sits over her needlepoint like Madame Defarge over her knitting, recording everyone headed for La Guillotine. Oh, that's weird. Yeah, it scares me stiff. What are we going to do about it? Oh, did you tell Dad that Grandma is making a copy of the original picture of the house? I was going to, but Elsa's so crazy angry about the dog, who knows what she might do? You mean like going after Grandma? Sure. Sure.

That doesn't make sense. A tree can blow over, a dog can die, but who's got the power to make these things happen by changing a picture? We're in the original picture, Rick. So is Dad. And Elsa. Yes. We have to tell him. Him or Grandma.

Maybe we should ask her what she's up to. Well, I thought you did. Didn't you ask her how come she took out the tree and it blew over? Didn't she say coincidence? That's what she said. But I don't believe it. Well, you think she's flipped out? No, but she...

Well, she's found some crazy power that's made her deadly. What power? Who knows? Maybe some kind of voodoo. You know, needles stuck into a doll. Oh, you don't believe that kind of stuff, do you? I'm ready to believe just about anything. What time is it? Oh, it's too late. I can't visit her now. Well, what about Dad? Well, if Elsa's asleep, I'll speak to him. Not if she's awake. If she suspected the truth, she'd be dangerous.

Isn't she awfully young to be struck with that kind of disease, Doctor? Elsa tells me for over a year she's had aches and pains. She hasn't been very good about physical checkups. I would have spotted the condition long ago. Well, will she be crippled?

Remissions have been known to occur, but there's no specific cure for rheumatoid arthritis. And she has the symptoms? Yes. Where'd she get it? Don't I wish I knew. Now, what your wife needs is bed rest, baths, rubs, and a good frame of mind. She... she will become crippled? I won't deceive you. It's likely, yes. Good Lord.

She's only 38, Dr. Berg. I know. Doctor, doctor, take a look at this. Oh, the needlepoint picture of your house. A fine piece of work. I told you about the tree and the dog. Now look at this. Hmm. Figure of a woman leaning on a cane. Well? As late as nine o'clock tonight, that figure was standing erect. Now...

It's leaning on a cane. But I don't understand. Neither do I. You're sure you're not mistaken? No. It's some kind of... of... of... magic.

That's a little beyond my understanding. Excuse me, Doctor. I'll be on my way. Be sure that your wife gets plenty of rest. Yes. Oh, Rick. Hi. This is Dr. Berg. My son, Rick. Hello. And goodbye. What is it, Rick? I have to talk to you, Dad. Can't wait. I've had a devil of a night. Yeah, me too. Oh, well. Sit down.

What's the picture doing back up in the living room, Dad? Take a look at it. There's a good chance that Elsa's got rheumatoid arthritis. That's awful. Yeah. I don't think she knows it yet. Elsa was right. There's a curse on that picture. Take a careful look at it. The figure of the woman leaning on the cane? Yeah. Well, that's what I came to tell you about. Dan, I'm scared. I thought something like this might happen. Why? Grandma. What? What?

Grandma is making a copy for herself of this original needlepoint picture. Yes. Yeah, and in the copy, she's omitted the maple tree and the dog and... Well, and now in real life, both are gone. And I'm willing to bet that in Grandma's copy, the erect figure of the woman is bent over and leaning on a cane. Do I sound crazy? I can't believe it, Rick. How can we believe that my mother has discovered some power to...

Oh, no. It doesn't make sense. Have you known about this for some time? Only since I saw Grandma's needlepoint with a tree gone from it. And that was just at the time the tree was blown down. I saw her tonight, and the dog was gone. And now, Chin Chin is dead. This is beyond sense. Dad, I wouldn't tell Elsa... No, I suppose not. I think if she can move...

She'd want to kill my mother. I almost feel that way myself. The question is this. Is old Nell Atterwood a force for good or for evil? And there's another question. Does she know she seems to possess thoughts that can kill?

As distinguished a philosopher as Santayana once wrote, that there is nothing impossible in the existence of the supernatural, its existence seems to me to be decidedly probable. More when I continue with Act 3 shortly. Dreams are trips into limbo.

Many are fantastic, but most of them are remembrances of highlights in our lives, of narrow escapes, of triumphs, of pleasures that are still vivid in our minds. And the good dreams are a storehouse in each of us which is a safeguard and guide in our daily living. But is the strength of any remembrance strong enough to be lethal?

Is Grandmother Atterwood a killer? What have you been doing, Mother? Good morning, Ed. Rick? Hi, Grandma.

I don't see you for months, and you greet me with, what have I been doing? Well, what I've been doing is living here at the home, minding my own business. You've been needlepointing a copy of the picture of the house you gave me and Elsa for our wedding present. Along with the house, let's not forget that, Ed. Yes, yes, I have been making a copy of the old house. And killing a tree and a dog, and inflicting rheumatoid arthritis on my wife. You sound addled.

I kill a tree and a dog and injure Elsa. That's preposterous. May I see the needlepoint? I think not. Are you afraid to show it to me? Not for myself, no. But I don't want it damaged. And in your mood, you might try to rip it to pieces. Because you've taken out the tree and the dog and you've made the figure of the woman on the front lawn a cripple. And everything you've done on that canvas has come true in real life.

What's happened was bound to happen. I had nothing whatever to do with it. Those things were determined in the nature of things. The maple was rotten. Chin Chin always chased cars. And as for Elsa, arthritis is no great surprise in a person who's had gout. Just what are you accusing me of? Hatred.

You hate Elsa. You hate me for marrying her. You hate being here instead of in your own house. And somehow you've destroyed a tree and a dog. And now you've inflicted an injury on my wife. Dad, that just doesn't make sense. You be quiet. Now listen, Mother.

I don't want you to take another stitch in that miserable picture. Are you accusing me of necromancy? Conjuration? Can you in your right mind believe that I have such a power? How else can I explain what's been happening? It's not I who hate Elsa or you for marrying her or living here instead of my old home. It's you, Ed. Why don't you face it? You're miserable. You were bedazzled by a pretty face and a good figure. But is Elsa happy?

Half the person that your first wife was. I'm in love with Elsa. No, you're not. Infatuated, maybe. You're so far in debt, you're planning to sell the house and move to Florida. Move with what? A few thousand dollars left over from the sale. No. No, with money. Elsa wanted me to advance. I'm sorry about that, Mother. I'm sorry about the whole thing. It's all very strange.

I'm making a copy of the original picture because I want it to remind me of the house. The disasters you speak of just happened. They're signs of a decay, of the rotting away of values that were good. For which you blame Elsa. No. How can I blame her without blaming you? And how can I blame her when she and I just couldn't get along with each other? You are blaming me. You must admit that you hate her. I don't admit that.

Elsa hates everyone except herself. There are people like that. She may even come to hate you if you don't become the man she wants you to be. No, Ed. No, Elsa is just incompatible with your family. That's why we scattered in all directions. But we still love you. Am I right, Rick? Of course. I'll be going along to work. I'm sorry about the things I said. Ed, let me explain something.

You know that figure leaning on the cane? I am that figure. No. Are you crippled with arthritis? I will be. Now, here's what I intend to do. I'll take out that figure and stitch in a new one of a person who is erect and without a cane. Let's see what happens next. ♪

Well, Dr. Berg? Your wife is much improved. She still has pain, especially in the right hip, but she can move around. Remission? No, Mr. Atwood, not this quickly. Arthritis, it doesn't go away overnight. I learned just now she has had a history of gout. It's an allied disease. But she can get around. Oh, yes. For a while. Well,

How long, I could not say. I've prescribed for her and she'll get relief. Well, that's good news. Oh, darling, how are you? Better. Dr. Berg's been wonderful. Thank you. I'll be on my way. I can see myself out. Good night. And thank you. Ed, I've got something to tell you. Sit down, darling. I hope you'll understand. I'm leaving.

I see. I have some friends in Pompano who'll take me in for a month or so until I find a place to live. You've made up your mind? Your mother made up my mind. After what you told me about that needlepoint of hers, I'm not safe in this house. That old witch killing my dog. Chin-chin chased cars and got run over. Not until she took his picture out of the needlepoint. She's in league with the devil. Look, I'll put the house on the market and we'll... No! Stay here. This is where you belong.

Not with me. I want to be free of you and your family. You two are becoming regular visitors. Yeah. Rick told me what happened this morning, Grandma. Well, it wasn't very pleasant, Polly. But you'll agree it's all been kind of funny. Yes, and I've been thinking about it all day.

Darned if I can figure it out. Maybe, not consciously, but maybe deep down inside your mind there's a powerful subconscious wish to restore what was. You know, you and us with Dad in the old house. Oh, I can't believe that, Rick. I told you before, what's past is past. I did make the change in the needlepoint. Is it just about complete? Just about. Here, take a look.

Oh, it's just lovely. Thank you. Grandma, that change in the needlepoint you were making, Rick said you told Dad you'd take out the figure of the woman with the cane and put in one of a woman standing erect. Yes, substituting Elsa for me. Elsa upright. I was the figure with the cane. Well, where is the figure? Pardon? There's...

There's no figure of the woman in the picture at all. Just Dad and Polly and me. Let me see that. Saints above. You... you did sew in the new figure. As I sit here before you, I picked out the stitches of the other figure and... Well, this is incredible. Now, what could have happened to the new figure? And what could it mean?

Maybe we'd... We'd better telephone Dad and... Yeah, uh, let's go over there, Polly. I smell trouble. That's all I can tell you, kids. I carried her bags down to the car and she drove off. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry, too. It's weird about the needlepoint. When we looked at Grandma's copy and the figure was gone, we...

Well, we thought Elsa had died. What is the explanation? Don't ask me. I really began to think that my mother was practicing some kind of magic. But I don't believe in the supernatural. Look, why don't you sell the house and go after Elsa? You love her, don't you? I thought I loved her. She's a beautiful woman. But she's been slipping away from me for the last couple of years...

What did your grandmother say when she saw the figure missing from her copy of the picture? She was bowled over. I wish I could explain it. None of this makes sense. Unless you believe in some superpower that decreed these things should happen. And that's beyond me. When I mentioned them to Dr. Berg and showed him the needlepoint, he gave me a very funny look. Said I'd imagined all of it. I wish I had. Have you destroyed the original picture? No. No?

And now I'm not going to. It's leaning against the wall behind the sofa. I'd like to take a look at it. Dad, now what are you going to do about dinner? Why don't the three of us go out? I don't like to think of you here alone. That's thoughtful of you, pal. But I'd like to be alone. I've got a lot to think through. You are not going to believe this. Either of you. Take a look at the original picture. The dog has been restored. And so has the figure of a woman. Oh.

I give up. I really do. What does this mean? I think I know. If you come with me, we'll find out. This is madness, Elsa. You know that. Well, you don't have to, Doctor, but wouldn't you enjoy the drive south? I can't deny it.

You're really a terrible woman. Why? Because I'm vital and want to enjoy every ounce of life? But, uh, why me? You're not unattractive, Doctor. And being a doctor, you'd be able to, uh, look after me. Here it is. With four figures in the foreground and a dog. When did you do this, Mother? I don't know.

Well, I worked on it all day, but I don't think that that will restore Elsa to you, Ed. You say she's left? Yeah. Just about the time her figure disappeared from this copy of the picture of the house. Explain the dog, Grandma.

Well, as I told you, the house was to be an ideal house. It needs a good dog. And then there you are, Ed, and here are Polly and Rick, with your wife dead and with Elsa having run away. The place needed an older woman to kind of hold it together. So that's you in the picture, right? Yes.

It doesn't mean I'm back there in the house any more than you or Polly are, Rick. It's just a picture of a reasonably happy group. And it gives me pleasure to look at it, that's all. No magic. No. All the magic went out of it when Elsa moved in. She wasn't entirely to blame. She wanted things her way. You made it possible for her. And drove you into this place and Polly and Rick out on their own. And me into debt.

Regret is a hiding place, not a sanctuary. What happened to you is regrettable because you say it is. But if you don't put your regrets aside, you won't have a tomorrow, Ed. And what I want for tomorrow is to have you move back into the house with me, Mother. And Polly and Rick, too. Is that what you really want? Now? Yes. And I'll tell you something. It will hurt, but you'll find it out sometime.

So you may as well hear it from me. Dr. Berg, who attends us here, is driving south for a week. He's not going alone. He's chauffeuring a patient of his who has shown signs of rheumatoid arthritis. He's been interested in her for a long time. You're implying... I've suspected it. So I did try a kind of magic to save you and your sanity. Then...

Then all this really was a supernatural phenomenon? You might call it that. Well, what do you call it? I think I call it love. It began with a needlepoint picture of an old house that first showed signs of decay when a man's second wife methodically emptied it of his mother and his two grown children.

It was restored when love, apparently helped by some strange magic, made an ideal copy of the picture and events followed that restored the impetuous man to his senses. Did Nell Atterwood possess supernatural powers? She denied it. But will her happily restored family ever really know? I'll be back shortly.

A bad apple can spoil a barrel. There are persons like that. Those who don't fit into society because they're self-centered, unapproachable, and defensive. Such a person was Elsa Atterwood. She almost squeezed the life out of the family that adopted her. But not quite.

Our cast included Carmen Matthews, Terry Keene, Gordon Gould, Jennifer Harmon, and Russell Horton. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by True Value Hardware Stores, Contact, the 12-hour allergy capsule, and Greyhound Package Express. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre.

Until next time, pleasant dreams.

Hi, I'm Richard Karn, and you may have seen me on TV talking about the world's number one expandable garden hose. Well, the brand new Pocket Hose Copperhead with Pocket Pivot is here, and it's a total game changer. Old-fashioned hoses get kinks and creases at the spigot, but the Copperhead's Pocket Pivot swivels 360 degrees for full water flow and freedom to water with ease all around your home. When you're all done, this rust-proof anti-burst hose shrinks back down to pocket size for effortless handling and tidy storage.

Plus, your super light and ultra durable pocket hose copperhead is backed with a 10-year warranty. What could be better than that? I'll tell you what, an exciting radio exclusive offer just for you. For a limited time, you can get a free pocket pivot and their 10-pattern sprayer with the purchase of any size copperhead hose. Just text WATER to 64000. That's WATER to 64000 for your two free gifts with purchase. W-A-T-E-R to 64000.

By texting 64000, you agree to receive recurring automated marketing messages from Pocket Host. Message and data rates may apply. No purchase required. Terms apply. Available at pockethost.com slash terms. 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. Hi, I'm Richard Karn, and you may have seen me on TV talking about the world's number one expandable garden hose. Well, the brand new Pocket Hose Copperhead with Pocket Pivot is here, and it's a total game-changer.

Old-fashioned hoses get kinks and creases at the spigot, but the Copperhead's pocket pivot swivels 360 degrees for full water flow and freedom to water with ease all around your home. When you're all done, this rust-proof anti-burst hose shrinks back down to pocket size for effortless handling and tidy storage. Plus, your super light and ultra-durable pocket hose Copperhead is backed with a 10-year warranty. What could be better than that?

I'll tell you what, an exciting radio exclusive offer just for you. For a limited time, you can get a free pocket pivot and their 10-pattern sprayer with the purchase of any size copperhead hose. Just text WATER to 64000. That's WATER to 64000 for your two free gifts with purchase. W-A-T-E-R to 64000.

By texting 64,000, you agree to receive recurring automated marketing messages from Pocket Hose. Message and data rates may apply. No purchase required. Terms apply. Available at pockethose.com slash terms. Hi, I'm Richard Karn, and you may have seen me on TV talking about the world's number one expandable garden hose. Well, the brand new Pocket Hose Copperhead with Pocket Pivot is here, and it's a total game changer.

Old-fashioned hoses get kinks and creases at the spigot, but the Copperhead's pocket pivot swivels 360 degrees for full water flow and freedom to water with ease all around your home. When you're all done, this rust-proof anti-burst hose shrinks back down to pocket size for effortless handling and tidy storage. Plus, your super light and ultra-durable pocket hose Copperhead is backed with a 10-year warranty. What could be better than that?

I'll tell you what, an exciting radio exclusive offer just for you. For a limited time, you can get a free Pocket Pivot and their 10-pattern sprayer with the purchase of any size copperhead hose. Just text WATER to 64000. That's WATER to 64000 for your two free gifts with purchase. W-A-T-E-R to 64000. By texting 64000, you agree to receive recurring automated marketing messages from Pocket Hose. Message and data rates may apply. No purchase required. Terms apply. Available at pockethose.com slash terms. 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

Hi, I'm Richard Karn, and you may have seen me on TV talking about the world's number one expandable garden hose. Well, the brand new Pocket Hose Copperhead with Pocket Pivot is here, and it's a total game changer. Old-fashioned hoses get kinks and creases at the spigot, but the Copperhead's Pocket Pivot swivels 360 degrees for full water flow and freedom to water with ease all around your home. When you're all done, this rust-proof anti-burst hose shrinks back down to pocket size for effortless handling and tidy storage.

Plus, your super light and ultra durable pocket hose copperhead is backed with a 10-year warranty. What could be better than that? I'll tell you what, an exciting radio exclusive offer just for you. For a limited time, you can get a free pocket pivot and their 10-pattern sprayer with the purchase of any size copperhead hose. Just text WATER to 64000. That's WATER to 64000 for your two free gifts with purchase. W-A-T-E-R to 64000.

Murder by Experts. The Mutual Broadcasting System presents Murder by Experts with your host and narrator, Mr. John Dixon-Kars.

world-famous mystery novelist and author of the recently published bestseller, The Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This is John Dixon Carr. Each week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story of crime and mystery which has been chosen for your approval by one of the world's leading detective writers. Those experts who are themselves masters of the art of murder and can hold tensity at its highest.

This time, our guest expert is the noted mystery novelist Kelly Roos. From the innumerable thrillers he has read and enjoyed, Mr. Roos has chosen a story by Robert Foster. To quote Mr. Roos, the story is a fascinating study of an ambitious and corrupt man venturing into the unknown and being caught in a whirlpool of violence and death.

And now we present Carl Weber in Two Coffins to Fill. The scene, Nick's Place, a popular roadhouse on the West Coast. It's early evening, and the dimly lit cocktail lounge is empty, save for the bartender and a couple in a corner booth. Roger. Roger.

We can't go on like this. Why not, darling? I'm tired of meeting you at discreet places, of seeing you only when you can get away from your wife. You just have to be patient, Eve. Patient? It's already a year. How long do you think I'll go on waiting for you? What would you have me do? Leave her. Forget about the money. We can get along. On what? Oh, no, Eve. What do you think you'll get from her? I have plans. It'll take time, but I'm very patient. Well, I'm not patient.

I can't go on waiting, Roger. I won't. I'm sorry. Another drink? Nothing affects you, does it, Roger? War, famine, or love. You're a man with only one weakness, money. Why is it that women can never break off without creating a scene? Why, you arrogant... What a fool I've been. All right, Roger. I'll break off without creating a scene. Goodbye, Roger. I'll have another, Steve. And put a dash of bitters in it.

Hello, Thornton. Your friend left in a hurry. You're quite observant, Al. I'm a student of human nature. Nick's having a game in the back tonight. Interested? A game? Poker? Yes. Since my date's walked out on me, I'll play a few hands. Tell Nick I'll be there. It's amazing how one small weakness can disrupt an otherwise orderly and well-thought-out plan.

My wife, Frida's first husband, left her with a manufacturing plant at Holdings amounting to something like four million. That's a comfortable sum of money. And I'm a man who likes comfort. Or I wouldn't have married Frida. She was forty and tired and no bargain special in the marriage market. But I had plans. Plans that didn't include murder. Not then. I was a patient man. Patient until a weakness occurred and I spent the night playing cards in the back room at Nick's place...

That night cost me $30,000, all on my signature. Perhaps that's why Nick's gun-happy friend Al was so insistent a couple of weeks later. I was sitting at the bar in Nick's. Thornton. Yes? You busy? That depends. Nick wants to see you in his office. Wants to see me about what? I didn't ask him. I'll tell him I'll drop back after I finish this drink. Make it now. What? I said now, Thornton. All right. All right, let's have it your way.

Hello, Roger. Good evening, Nick. Sit down. Before I sit down, let's have an understanding. I don't like the idea of your man here pushing me around with a gun. A gun? I kept it covered, Nick. We don't want any trouble, Al. Nobody's seen me. Don't mind Al, Roger. He takes his work seriously. Perhaps someone will take him seriously someday. Al's a good boy. For a price. Right, Al? That's right. I'm not interested in the merits of your bodyguard. Ha, ha, ha.

Sit down, Roger. You're getting red in the face. Al, mix us a drink, will you? Sure, Nick. Coming up. Roger, what about that 30 grand you owe me? I'll pay you when I get it. That's a poor bet, Roger. I've been checking on you. What do you mean, checking on me? You're a punk. That wife of yours has got all the dough. You haven't got a dime. My personal affairs don't concern you, Nick. I'm a right guy. I've never given a right guy a bum break yet.

About that, Al. That's right. I'm a gambler, Roger. When I lose, I pay off. When I win, I aim to collect. Now, before you start laying down the law, Nick, that happens to be an uncollectible debt. Yeah, yeah. I got a lawyer, too. When you say uncollectible, Roger, you want to figure all the angles. What angles? Al, what do you figure this guy's worth? About 30 grand. Which way? Either way. What are you talking about? What do you mean, either way?

Tell him, Al. Sitting up or lying down? Now, see here, Nick. I can see, Roger. And I want you to see me tomorrow with 30 grand. I said I'd pay you. Tomorrow. I don't know if I can get it that soon. I don't like punks like you, Roger. You're crummy. With all that dough you're tied up to, you're still crummy. Well, I'll do the best I can. When I said tomorrow, Roger, I wasn't kidding. Was I, Al? You sure wasn't, Nick.

I didn't like Nick calling me Crummy. Whatever I was, I wasn't Nick's kind of tramp. I was furious with myself for becoming so stupidly involved with him in that card game. And Frida, Frida had me tied down as if I were a child making me account for every nickel. If I'd had her, then I could have killed her. I'd have to have a talk with Frida. When I got home, she was in the library.

You're late, Roger. I stopped for a drink. Don't you have your cocktails here at home? You said you were going to the doctor's. I did go. Well, I thought you'd be late. Oh, not this late. Is this going to be another session, Frieda? No, no, it's not going to be another session. Roger, we're growing apart, aren't we? Oh, for heaven's sakes. Now, please, Roger. You'd stop treating me like a child. Do you know what someone called me today? Do you, Frieda? No. Crummy. He called me Crummy because I'm...

Well, because I'm tied to your apron strings. Oh, now, Roger. How do you think I felt? Vice president. I sign my name to half a dozen letters and that makes me a vice president. Oh, I'm sick of it. I'm sorry. You're sorry? Did you marry me so you could push a button and have me come running? Now, don't be absurd, Roger. Why, am I? Put yourself in my place. I have put myself in your place. Tonight, while I was waiting for you. What do you mean, Frida? Well...

I thought it'd be nice if we could spend the weekend at the lodge. The mountain? Yes, Roger. Why? Oh, we could... We could talk things over. Oh, why can't we talk it over now? A weekend vacation together would be nice. Oh, then you didn't have anything to talk over. It's only a ruse to get me up to the lodge. No, no, no, it wasn't a ruse. You've been wanting to handle the advertising for the plant. I wanted to surprise you.

You mean you're turning the advertising over to me? Yes. I'll control the whole department? Everything? Everything. Why, that's wonderful, darling. Of course it's a surprise, a charming surprise. Does it make you happy, Roger? Of course it does. Now I have something to do, something I can sink my teeth into. Then will you go up to the lodge for the weekend? Well...

Why don't you run up by yourself this time, Frida? You need the rest, you know, and I have something important to tend to. I wanted you to go. Of course you did, dear. But next time, Frida. Next time. I promise you. Frida's act was more considerate than she realized. Having access to some funds, I could pay Nick, write it off to advertising. For a moment, I felt almost kindly toward Frida. But then, as I stared at her, long and hard...

wondering if I could care for her even remotely. My thoughts were revolted. I hated her for condescending to place me in charge of the advertising department. I knew I could no longer tolerate her standing in the way of everything I was waiting for. Not until the next day did I conceive the plan. I was ready when Nick's bodyguard, Al, came into my office. Nick sent me over. I didn't think it was a social call. I don't like jokes.

You're very businesslike, aren't you, Al? I work for a living. When you work, you work hard. And when you play, you play hard. Is that right, Al? That's right. Could you use, say, 5,000 to play with? I don't like chiselers. Chiselers? You heard me. Oh, you think I'm trying to buy you off because of the money I owe Nick? What am I supposed to think? I see. Well, here's a check for Nick. What do you think now? 30 grand.

How do I know this is good? You're smarter than that, Al. Okay. Okay, what's on? What's 5,000 worth to you, Al? Could be worth anything. Maybe. Maybe. Nick doesn't come in on this? No, no, no. This is just between us. How hard is it? Well, it may be a bit difficult. But 10 grand, I might see. 10,000. Is it yes or is it no? Well, I don't know yet, Al. I'll give you a ring tomorrow at Nick's. I...

I have to make some arrangements. Freda? Yes, Roger? Are you still planning to go to the mountains for the weekend? No, not without you. Well, I've been thinking, you do need a rest, you know. Oh, I can rest just as well right here. Yes, yes, I realize that, but I thought I might come up to the lodge with you. Oh, Roger, do you really mean it? Of course, dear. Oh, I...

I'm so glad you decided to go with me. Oh, there's just one thing, Frida. Yes? I won't be able to come up until later Saturday evening. Oh, I don't mind driving up late. You don't understand, Frida. I expect you to drive up early. Why, Roger? Well, you can check over the repair work that needs to be done on the lodge. Repair work? Yes. I ran into an old friend of mine today, Frida. A carpenter, Al Grades. He's a bit down on his luck, and the lodge could stand some work. Well, that's perfectly all right with me, Roger, but...

Must I go up early? Well, we don't want him hanging around, do we? No. No, of course not. Good, good. Then I'll ride up with Al. Now, when we get there, we can discuss the repairs. He'll look things over, and then he'll drive on back in his own car. And you want me to go up early so I can make a list of the things to be done? Yes, yes, that's it. Do you mind about the carpenter, I mean? Of course I don't mind, Roger. I'm just so happy that you want to go. Thanks for the drink, Doctor.

You haven't answered my question, now. I'm thinking. Thinking what? Murder's quite a rap. I had your proposition. If you want to forget it. I didn't say that. Then you'll do it. When's the payoff? A thousand now. Nine thousand Saturday night. You want it done about nine o'clock? Just so it happens before I get there. I get a ride back with you. Yes, yes. Maybe you try to pull something like the cops. I couldn't risk bringing the police in. You're smart enough to know that.

Smarter than you think, Thornton. All right, now it has to look like a struggle and robbery. Leave that to me. Is everything okay with the wife for me to ride her up there? It will be, Saturday morning. The Thornton residence? Oh, Charles, this is Mr. Thornton. Oh, good morning, sir. May I speak to Mrs. Thornton? Very well, sir. She's right here, sir.

Roger? Oh, I was afraid you might have left for the lodge already. No, no, not for an hour yet. Frida, I wonder if you'd mind doing something. What is it? Al Graves, the carpenter who was going to drive me up... Yes? His car is broken down. It's in the garage. Would you mind terribly taking Al up with you? Oh, Roger, really, I... He could look over the repairs himself that way. Well, when will you come up?

As soon as I'm finished working at the office, I'm working on the new advertising program. Well, I suppose I... I could have Richard take Al and myself up in the sedan. Oh, you don't have to bother Richard. Why not take your convertible? We have that carpenter come up some other time, Roger. All right, all right. Let's just forget the whole thing, Peter. If you wish, you can go on up alone. Now, Roger, you know that... Things must always go your way. Well...

Will you drive up in your car? Yes. Al can use it to return to town. Well, all right. Where will I pick him up? On the corner of Hawthorne and Orange. Hawthorne and Orange. Yes, I'll tell him to watch for the convertible. All right, Roger. I'll see you at the lodge tonight, darling. Things for the past few days have moved so amazingly fast and remarkably well that I had little time to reflect upon my emotions.

Frida's surprising agreement to my wishes I knew was merely a new tack in her attempt to draw me closer to her. Yet, as I drove through the lane to the lodge in the evening, I had an unaccountable fear. The wind whined through the trees, and the eerie sound disturbed me. I parked the car and sat for a few moments, watching the lights in the lodge. It was ten o'clock. Al should have been finished long ago. I got out of the car, walked to the veranda, and opened the door.

You finally got here. Yes. Well, how does it look? You satisfied? I said to make it look like a struggle. Don't it? I guess it's all right. Have you got the dough? Where is she? In the bedroom. Go in, take a look. Turn on the light. No, no. I can see. Satisfied, Thornton? She's partly under the bed. Yeah, she got scared. She tried to hide. I had to follow her. Shut the door. I said to shut the door. Shut the door.

You're a funny guy. Why? You figure all this out and can't stomach your own stuff. Let's sit down and have a drink, huh? Sure. You got the dough? Yes, sure. There should be some glasses here. On that shelf. I'll fix the drinks. When I get that drink, we're gonna blow. Where's your car? Garage. Wanna see it? No. Here you are. You need it worse than I do, Thunton.

Where do you go from here, Al? A trip, maybe. Well, you have nothing to worry about for me. That I know, Thornton. How was it done? Done? Did you leave it? I'll get rid of it. Well, here's to you, Al. Yeah. All right, Thornton. Now, let's have the dough. Certainly, sir. I've got it right here. You know, I've been thinking about you, Thornton. I think Nick's right. You're crummy. Oh, now, you shouldn't feel that way, Al. If I had to do it over...

You won't. Say. I'm sick. What did you put in that drink? Nothing, Al. You double-crossing, I'll kill you, Al. Will you, Al? I poured some of the liquor on Al and dipped the bottle over. Then I carried him out of the lodge, across the carpet of pine needles, to the bluff a hundred yards away. I placed one of Frieda's expensive bracelets in his pocket, along with some money and articles of lesser value.

I dropped him over the bluff and heard his body strike the rocky stream bed 300 feet below. I went quickly to my car and drove away. I drove rapidly for an hour until I passed an all-night diner. I wheeled the car around in the highway, pointing it back in the direction I'd come. Then I ran the car into a ditch, hard. The front fender crumpled against the wheel and the tire blew out. I couldn't have wished anything better. This was it, my alibi. I walked a mile up the road to the diner. As I opened the door, a car pulled up.

When I entered the cafe, a girl got out of the car and followed me in. Where'll it be, folks? Coffee, please. And you, mister? Coffee. Say, is there a tow truck around? Tow truck? I blew out a tire and went into the ditch about a mile down the road. Jim Parson has a tow truck. Him and the missus went into L.A. Won't be back till Monday. Here you are, miss. Monday. Thanks.

Wreck your car bad? Smash the wheel. I don't have a spare. Oh, that's too bad. Going far? My lodge, about 50 miles up. The Thornton place. Roger Thornton. Maybe you know it. Thornton? No, can't say I do. My wife's there. But I'm sure she's all right. You don't stand much of a chance of getting a ride going that way this time of night. I suppose not. You can use the phone there, reverse the charges. Oh, no, the phone's disconnected up at the lodge. You might be able to hitch to L.A.,

Once in a while, there's a car going that way. That's an idea. Anything else for you, miss? No, thanks. How much? Ten cents. Thank you. Good night. I reckon the young lady didn't want a passenger. So it seems. Say, I think I will use your phone. Help yourself.

Have you got that straight, Charles? Yes, sir. I'm to call the auto club and have them pick up your car. It's quite a way to the lodge, so I'm going to try to get a ride back to town. Will you hurt, sir? I'm perfectly all right. It may be rather late before I get in, so leave a light in the library. Very well, sir. Good night, Charles. Is that all, sir? Why, yes. Yes, that's all. Very well, sir. Thank you for the use of the phone. Oh, that's okay, mister.

Could you use the drink? I ain't never been known to turn one down. I got a bottle in my car. Well, that's quite a walk. It's nice out and I could use the drink myself. Suit yourself. You don't mind if I sit around after I get back? Maybe I can pick up a ride. Glad to have you. I'm open all night. Good, good. I'll be right back. Mister? Yes? Did you say you wanted a ride to L.A.? Why, yes, yes, if you're going that way. Hop in. Well, thank you very much. Thank you.

I would have asked you in there, but I didn't want to give the counterman the wrong idea, Mr. Thornton. How did you know my name? You told the counterman. Oh, of course. I was just going to get a bottle out of my car. I already got it. You got it? Sure. Nice car, thirsty girl. I had a hunch. How long were you with the car? Long enough to find the bottle and see your name on the steering post. I thought you heard me tell the counterman. I did. So then I knew you as a gentleman.

Have you... Have you drunk much of that bottle? Hey, you shouldn't be driving if you've been drinking too much. You scared? No, no, no. It's for your own good. I'm celebrating. You might have waited till you got in Los Angeles. Mr. Thornton. Yes? Why'd you turn your car around and run it into that ditch? What? I know all about you, Mr. Thornton. Who are you? What's your name? Della. Della what? Just Della. Look out!

You nearly turned us over. Either stop this car and let me drive or... Or what, Mr. Thornton? Stop this car. When we get to Nick's. Did you say Nick's? I'm Al's girlfriend. No. Didn't you think Al could have a girlfriend? Why did you pick me up? Because I'm not half as tight as you think I am. Then what do you want? Al was a punk, a nice punk, but punks come cheap, Mr. Thornton.

I want that $9,000. Do you think I'd carry that kind of money around? And did you think Al was stupid enough not to have somebody cover him at the lodge? You were there? You saw? Yes, I was there. And I saw. You're a very brave girl, Della. Threatening me. I don't scare easy. I know your kind. I know you. This is a gun, Mr. Thornton. I'm not afraid to use it. You're a very stupid child. If you try anything, I'll wreck this car. Watch that curve! Oh!

I don't think that goes. Now, stop that car or I'll kill you. No, you won't. I'll hold that wheel. Let go. Let go of me. Let go. We're stopping right here. All right. All right. Now, get out of the car. Get out. I'll talk to you. Get out. My arm. I'll... Turn this ravine. I was only kidding you. I wanted to scare you. I didn't mean it. Must I force you? I won't tell you. You're my only witness. My only witness. Please let me.

Let me talk to you. This will do. Wait. You've got to let me explain. When the girl told me she'd seen me kill Al, I went out of my head. I didn't know what I was doing. I shouldn't have killed her. I was stupid. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop. I drove the girl's car into town and left it on a side street. I dropped the gun down a sewer and caught a bus home. It was almost daylight. I was tired and sick. It was all over. It was all over.

I unlocked the front door, quietly entered the house. My house. I was too keyed up for sleep. What I needed was a bracer. I went into the library. Good morning, Roger. Rita! Who did you expect? Rita, what are you doing here? I've been waiting since you telephoned Charles. I... I killed him. What? I killed them both. You...

You killed him. Al and the girl, and you're here. You're right here. Stop it. Stop it, Roger. Roger, stop it. Oh, I'm so sorry for you. I had it all figured out. I did. I had... That man, Al, the carpenter, he told me everything, Roger. I had to pay him. You paid him? You? And it was the girl I saw. She was in the bedroom, pretending to be you, pretending to be dead.

Al framed the whole thing as a shakedown. He never intended to kill you. Oh, I'm so sorry for you. You said that! You said that! Who are you to feel sorry for me? I love you. I'm going to miss you, Roger. Love? Then why did you do something? Why didn't you tell me? I didn't know.

I stayed home hoping you'd come here and we could talk things over before you did anything rash. Rash? You call it rash? Do you know what I've done? That's why I'm so sorry for you. You say that once more. Once more, Frieda. It was greed, wasn't it, Roger? Greed for my money. I hate you, Frieda. I know. And I love you. Isn't it strange, Roger? It's pathetic. What I wanted to tell you at the lodge, Roger. Or if I'd only told you sooner. What do you mean? Frieda, what do you mean? I'll tell you.

But it's too late now, Roger. You've killed two people. And you'll hang if I let you. What are you doing with that gun? I haven't any money, Roger. I've been wiped out. That's what I wanted to tell you. You needn't have killed them. No, Freda. No. But I still love you. No. No. And I won't let you hang. Goodbye, Roger. No.

And so the curtain falls on Two Coffins to Fill, which was chosen by guest expert Kelly Rose, whose latest mystery is murder in any language. Next week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story of intrigue and surprise of a beautiful Hollywood actress and of a man who died twice. Selected for your approval by the famous mystery novelist Miss Helen McCloy.

Until then, this is your host, John Dixon Carr, hoping you'll be with us next week at this time. In the cast of Two Coffins to Fill, which was written by Robert Foster, were Carl Weber, Eleanor Phelps, Jimmy Stevens, Miriam Wolfe, and Maurice Tarplin. Music was under the direction of Emerson Buckley and was composed by Richard DuPage.

Murder by Experts is produced and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Kogan. All characters in our story were fictitious, and any resemblance to the names of actual persons was purely coincidental. This is Phil Tonkin speaking. ♪♪ This is the Mutual Broadcasting System. ♪♪

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By texting 64,000, you agree to receive recurring automated marketing messages from Pocket Hose. Message and data rates may apply. No purchase required. Terms apply. Available at pockethose.com slash terms. Now there's a new way to share weird darkness with the weirdos in your life. It's a skill on your Amazon Echo device.

Just say, play Weird Darkness, and you'll immediately start hearing the newest episode. With your Amazon Echo or smart device, you can let me keep you company all day and all night. And it's easy to tell your friends how to tune in, too. Just tell your Amazon device, play Weird Darkness, to start listening.

Do you like my horror-able humor episodes called Mind of Marlar? 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. Exploring Tomorrow. Exploring Tomorrow.

And now here is your guide to these adventures of the mind, the editor of astounding science fiction magazine, John Campbell, Jr. We all believe pretty solidly that sooner or later almost any problem you name is going to be solved. So apparently all you have to do is just sort of stand by and if you could wait, it would be solved for you. I don't think that works right. There's another thing to consider. BELL RINGS

Exploring Tomorrow is presented by the Mutual Broadcasting System in cooperation with L&M, today's most exciting cigarette. L&M smokes cleaner, tastes best. Live modern, smoke modern, L&M. The Kraft Foods Company, makers of delicious new Kraft jellies and preserves. And Cape Coral, a beautiful waterfront wonderland on the western coast of Florida.

In a moment, John Campbell returns with the story of Time Heals.

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Animals have trouble when it's cold. Of course, they grow warm fur. Human beings have gotten around the problem of having to grow that fur and not being able to get rid of it in the hot weather by using clothes instead.

And that solved that problem very neatly. Of course, it did bring in the different problem of having to make clothes, and having to figure out ways of raising cotton or wool. You know, when you do solve a problem, sometimes it involves setting up a complex thing to make the solution, and that may be a tougher problem than the problem you started with. Let's consider a fellow who tries walking out, out of time, when he has a problem.

Our last night together. Oh, I don't know, Dorothy, not necessarily. I might come out of that time field a year from now. Or 50 years from now, when I'm old and tired and ugly. And you'll still be young. No, I think I'd rather you waited at least a century. The traditional period in Elf Hill, I believe. But, Jim... Jim, let's stop pretending to be so calm and gallant. There are only the two of us here. Let's...

Let's just curse our luck for the vile thing it is. There's also the champagne here. Must have shocked the champagne. I'm hoping the next bottle. Do you have to be flipped every minute, even now? Tomorrow you won't be, Jim Hart, bright, young advertising executive, wit wolf, an idol of Manhattan's more high-priced intelligentsia.

Tomorrow you'll be frozen in a block of frozen time. Can't you let down the mask just for tonight? But you see, my dear, there is no mask. This is me. I dare not admit anything else.

I'll get that champagne. Oh, forget my choice of music. Childish, perhaps, under the circumstances, but I'm entitled to a little melodrama, am I not? After all, this is literally a life and death proposition for me. The

The crypt is right at the end of this corridor, Mr. Hart. Pretty far underground, aren't we, Doctor? Yes, besides being way off upstate. It's in case of little atomic bombs, rising sea level, whatever might happen. After all, this place may have to last for a century. Um, what's your trouble again, Mr. Hart? Inoperable cancer. My family physician said I'd be dead within a year, unless a cure can be found. And that, of course, is what the crypt is for.

Someday a cure will be found. Until then, you will lie here snug, safe, unchanging, not even conscious of time passing in the outside world. Time heals all wounds, they say, and

And time is what we have the most of here. Ah, this is it. Just step up on that platform between those field coils. I'll flip a switch, and the next thing you know, you'll be in the future. Good enough. Say, uh... Oh, I mean, Mr. Hart, I was wondering if you have any last messages or... No. No, I said all my goodbyes yesterday, such as they were.

I've had the sense to keep myself legally and emotionally unattached. Well, that should certainly give you an advantage over most of our patients up there in the future. Whatever the future is like. Good luck, Mr. Hart. Thanks. But we needn't be so theatrical. You may need luck more than I, Doctor. Here goes, then.

Exploring Tomorrow continues in just a moment. Hello, everybody. This is Bill Stern. I'd like to tell you about a tropical paradise where living is so easy that I intend to settle down and stay there for the rest of my life.

The name of my dream city is Cape Coral on the unspoiled western coast of Florida. Just picture 2,000 acres of high dry pine and palm land honeycomb with 50 miles of navigable waterways just teeming with fish they write books about. Boating and fishing facilities, private country club and yacht anchorage, a planned 18-hole golf course, tennis courts, and many other luxuries. You can buy a large 80 by 125 foot home site for only $990.

Only $20 down and $20 a month and live here like a king on a retirement budget or purchase now for possible profitable resale later. The complete Cape Coral story has been compiled for you in easy-to-read literature. It's yours free of charge. A postcard's all you need. Send it to me, Bill Stern. So long for now. I'll be seeing you at Cape Coral, Florida. To get your free literature, write Bill Stern, Cape Coral, Post Office Box 230, New York 18, New York.

It's certainly a reasonable proposition. If a man can just step outside of time and wait, sooner or later they're going to develop methods to handle the problems that are facing him at the time. And they will develop cures.

The advance of civilization is sure to lead to a cure of the particular problem man has. That's a simple proposition, isn't it? All right, no. Du can dun step. I'll wake him. What? But it's gone. The document. Do understand me? The crypt. It's changed. Half empty. Crumbled plaster. Old. And those two men down by the controls were...

Why, they look half oriental. They're wearing kilts. The future. What year is this? Oh, I'll marry while you're here. What year is this? What year is this? Ah, Todd Hart. You are Todd James Hart, are you not? It so says on the record. Yes, yes, yes, I'm James Hart.

And you? I called... I am called... Harlem Rostam Dougal. My kithman here, I mean, he is called Walter Rostam Chang. We both belong to the Rostam kith. Do you understand? No, I don't. Be calm. It are a shock, I know. Here, lean on my arm. I never expected so suddenly... What year is it?

2837. What? 900 years? Yes. There were dark ages and upheavals, and then during interplanetary era, the mechanoclastic government did not wish. Ah, but be assured, Top Heart, we are friends.

Can you cure me? Oh, yes. We have a quick and easy cure for your disease. A synthetic virus which attacks only cancer cells. A month or two in the hospital and you will be well again. Well, that's good to know. That was the whole reason for my junket after all.

900 years? I suggest we all go up to the surface now. The clinic is nearby. All right. All right. Say, how do you happen to speak my language and your friend here doesn't? Not your wise.

Language changes in 900 years. Walder asked I should come interpret until you have learned modern speech. I am a linguist at Interkith Treaty Foundation. Most especially, I have studied the Old American language. Old American? Old American?

Good morning, Tove Hart. I am your new nurse. Well, hello there. Ah, Tove Hart. I didn't know that you'd already learned the present-day language. Oh, I've had several weeks with nothing else to do. Sheer desperation drove me to study it. You must relax to get well. You know, good sir. I'm sure. Sure. Sunshine, fresh air, books, music, that's it. That's all I've seen.

You don't even show a television program. It was decided by the philosophic treaty 100 years ago that the unity of the family, and hence the kith, was impaired by external entertainment. I've heard that sort of thing a million times. I'm sick of it. I can't even get a smoke in this dump. Smoke? Tobacco, nicotine. Oh, a chemipotent aerosol.

No, I'm afraid, sir, that the biotech machine has not described it for your case. Oh, never mind, never mind, never mind. Well, at least you're a new face around here and a remarkably pretty one. What's your name? I can't see that that's relevant, sir. Of course it is. My public name is Sarah Olaf Brunard. Don't be so stiff and formal. Come over here. Sit down. I won't bite. Not very hard, anyway. Here.

You're convalescing fast, I see. Oh, sure, sure. I'm practically a new man. Emphasis on man. A girl like you reminds me of that acutely. I'm afraid I don't understand. Your usage is semantically empty. Oh, Lord. Look, darling. Look, I want to get better acquainted, that's all. I'm lonesome. I shall consult the psychotechnic files, and if there's anyone registered with a compatible individuality...

I will ask him to come discuss with you. Discuss with me? Well, thanks. That'll be just great. Exploring Tomorrow Exploring Tomorrow continues in just a moment.

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Yes, it's a simple proposition that if you just wait around, they'll find a cure for your problem. The trouble with the proposition is that it's a little too simple.

The other half of the proposition is they'll find other things, too. They'll find other problems to work on. They won't be interested in the type of problems you've been used to. Ah, Tove Hart.

It is a pleasure to see you well again. Please honor me by accepting a seat. Well, thanks, but you wouldn't have anything I could really sit on, would you? I mean, I can't get used to this hard glow like it's stuff you call furniture nowadays. Oh, my apologies, sir. I imagine one does need a lifetime to become habituated to a complex of postures. Oh, well, forget it. It's a nice place you've got, Tobe Allen. Oh, pardon me, sir. One friendly word of advice. It is considered rude to compliment a man on his home.

Well, that's why I've come to you, Mr. Toby Hallam. Look, you've studied the history of my own period. You may be able to help me. The rest, oh, they're very polite, but I'm frozen out. I just don't fit in. Everything I do seems to offend somebody somehow. You feel yourself isolated. Well, I made my own way in the 20th century. I had friends. At least I knew a lot of people. I knew my way around. I was well-to-do. Here I am living on a pension out of the charity fund.

I'm not invited anywhere because I don't know how to behave. Your conversations, your ceremonies bore me stiff anyway. It was politely explained to me that I... I haven't a good enough heredity for any kith to consider me as a marriage prospect. What did you take me out of the crypt for? Why did you kill me if I'm to hang around here doing nothing for the rest of my life? Oh, please, please, Top Heart, relax. I beg you. Well, give me something to do. Just give me something to do. I'll prove myself.

I can start with some simple job. Work my way up, study, learn. I'll show you what I can do. You just give me a chance. A weather station. A one-man crew of a weather station on the Greenland ice cap.

Supply rocket wants someone for me. Give them all my reports. They try to make conversation. Well, what is there to talk about? All the snow I've been looking at. Well, the beautiful aurora up there in the night sky. The half a year night sky. Oh, sure. I'm sure they would discuss the aurora according to the soundest aesthetic semantics. All right, shut up, shut up, you black-in-the-sht.

It did. It stopped. Do you hear me? How much do all the machines in this place do anyway? How much do they know? How much do they know?

I'm one little man among a thousand machines. How can I tell what they're thinking in those steel-brained cases? All I can do is copy numbers off their dials onto a printed form and... Well, why isn't there a machine to do that to? Why am I here at all? Karen, sure, make work. Where's that bottle? At least they have the be sincerely mentioned bottles.

Here, here, I know I left it here. Well, why quit anyhow? Here's a snug home, ample food, books, plenty to read, plenty to drink. Man, I got it made. There's even a pretty good ten-houser to take here somewhere. Ten-houser. Only no green leaves will ever spring out of me. I don't sing in German, sure. Dead language.

English is a dead language, too. I'm a dead language. Well, that's the way the civilization comes. Drink up, Dorothy.

Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr. S. Mr. Mr.

It isn't far to go now, is it? No. No, we'll land at the foot in another half an hour. But what could be wrong with a nurse? Obviously some mental breakdown. Nobody seems to know just what. I think it's called a catatonic state. I don't know. He's insane at least. The biotech at the Cleveland station asked me to bring him back since I knew him best. This sort of thing isn't understood anymore.

For better than a century, we've had a well-adjusted civilization. People simply don't go insane. At least not in this rather horrible fashion. And so no one has any idea how to treat it. Exactly. Oh, we could try various chemicals and whatever else occurred to us.

But we would be working blindly with the grave risk of damaging his brain beyond repair. So we are putting him back in crypt. Yes, the next cycle of civilization. A thousand years from now, ten thousand, a hundred thousand years, they will know how to cure James Clark. But will he feel any more at home with them than with us? Less, I should think. So he may break down again. So badly that...

Even they can't cure him at that time. Then they will have to put him back in the crypt. God help him. God help us all. John Campbell returns in just a moment.

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Yes, as time goes by, things do change, but the fundamental things apply. And the most fundamental of all, really, is you can't walk out on a problem and just let it take care of itself. By the time it gets taken care of, it's ready to take care of you, but good.

Join us each Wednesday and Friday night for a fascinating adventure in Exploring Tomorrow. Heard in our cast tonight were Lawson Zerbe, Connie Lembeck, and Sam Gray. Script was by Paul Anderson.

Produced and directed by Sanford Marshall here in New York. This is Mutual, the world's largest network. And now, wait. Wait for a voice. This is Ken Nardine. I come to you from out of darkness into a single point of light. ♪♪

From out of the darkness that walks past this turn of midnight and enters the lonely road to dawn. From this deep darkness, the mind accepts a single point of concentration. The senses are sharpened to it. All else is blacked out. And from any floating form or shifting shape, the midnight mind will see faces in the window.

The face you see before you is the face of a man about to die. Yet for this wildest of narratives which I am about to tell you, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed I would be to expect it in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet mad, mad I am not.

And very surely do I not dream that tomorrow I die and tonight I would unburden to you my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world simply and without comment a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have terrified, have tortured, have destroyed me.

Yet I will not attempt to elaborate upon them. To me, they have presented nothing but horror. Terrible, total horror. In my infancy, I was noted for the humanity of my disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals, and so had a great variety of pets, and with these, with these I spent most of my time.

and never was so happy as when I was feeding and caressing them. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and in my manhood I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute which goes directly to the heart of him who is at frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and the fickle trusts of mere man.

I married early and was happy to find in my wife a disposition compatible with my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We had birds, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat.

Yes, this cat was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black and wise, wise to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife made frequent allusions to the ancient but popular notion which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon this point. I mention it now because at the moment it happens to be remembered. Pluto. Pluto.

This was the cat's name. Pluto was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went, all over the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets. Our friendship lasted for several years, during which my general temperament under the influence of the fiend intemperance experienced a radical change for the worse. I grew...

Day by day more moody, more irritable, more... regardless of the feelings of others. My wife began to suffer the use of my foul tongue and at length even, even personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only neglected, but ill-used them.

For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from abusing him. But my disease grew upon me. For what disease is like alcohol? And at length, even Pluto, who was now becoming old and consequently somewhat peevish, even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper. One night,

One night I returned home, steeped in intoxication and fancy that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him. When, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound on my hand with his teeth, the fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. A fiendish malevolence came over me. It throbbed through me. I took a penknife from my pocket.

opened it, and grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket. I blush, I burn, I shudder at the mere mention of this damnable atrocity. When reason returned with mourning, I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse.

The crime which I had been guilty of, but it was at best a feeble feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again plunged into excess and soon drowned in wine, all memory of my foul deed. The cat slowly recovered. The sockets of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but no longer did he seem to suffer pain.

I read about the house as usual, but as might be expected, fled in terror at my approach. I was at first grieved at this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once loved me. But this feeling, this feeling soon gave place to irritation and then came as if to predict my final doom, the spirit of perverseness.

This, I am sure, is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart, who has not a hundred times found himself committing a vile or stupid action for no other reason than because he knows he should not. Have we not a perpetual inclination in the teeth of our best judgment to violate that which is law merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, is not a spirit of perversion.

came to my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to offer violence to its own nature, to do wrong for the wrong's sake only, that urged me to continue and to finally consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One morning in cold blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it from the limb of a tree.

Hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse in my heart. Hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason for offense. Hung it because I knew that in so doing, I was committing a sin, a deadly sin, that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it, if such a thing were possible,

Even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the most merciful and most terrible God. On the night of the day in which this most cruel deed was done, I was aroused to my sleep by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed were aflame. The whole house was blazing. It was with great difficulty that my wife and I made our escape from the conflagration. The destruction was complete.

My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up and I resigned myself thenceforward to despair. I am not trying to establish a sequence of cause and effect between the atrocity and the fight. I am detailing a chain of fact. But on the day following the fire, I visited the ruins.

The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. The wall against which rested the head of my bed still stood. The plastering on this wall had in great measure resisted the action of the fire, a fact which I attributed to its having been recently spread. About this wall, a dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining the

Examining the wall with tense excitement, I approached and saw, as if graven in bas-relief on the light surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with an accuracy truly marvelous. There was a rope about the animal's neck. When I first beheld this apparition, for I could scarcely regard it as less, my terror was extreme.

But at length I remembered. I remembered that the cat had been hung in a garden adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of the fire, this garden had been immediately filled by the crowd. By someone of whom the animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, thrown through an open window into my chamber with a view of arousing me from my sleep.

The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance of the freshly spread plaster, the lime of which, with the flames and the ammonia from the carcass, had then accomplished this, this weird portrait. My reason was satisfied, but not my conscience.

For months, months, I could not wit myself of the apparition of the cat. And again I felt that half-resentment of remorse. I even began to search for another pet of the same species and somewhat similar appearance with which to supply its place. And so it was that one night, as I sat half-stupefied in a den of more than infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object reposing upon the head of one of the immense hogsheads of gin.

I'd been looking steadily at the top of his hog's head for some minutes and was surprised that I hadn't noticed it sooner. I approached it and touched it with my hand. It was a black cat.

A very large one, fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one. Pluto had not a white hair upon any portion of his body, but this cat had a large, although indefinable, splotch of white covering nearly the entire region of the chest.

So, upon my touching him, he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted, delighted with my attention. This, then, was the very creature of which I was in search. I continued my caress. When I prepared to go home, the animal indicated a disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so.

When it reached the house, it domesticated itself at once and became immediately a great favorite with my wife. But soon, very soon, I found a dislike to it arising within me I had not anticipated. I know now why, and I don't know why, its fondness for me disgusted and annoyed me. By slow degrees, these feelings rose into bitterness, the bitterness of hatred.

I remembered my crime, and I forced myself not to strike it. But gradually, very gradually, I came to look upon it with an unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence. What headed no doubt to my hatred of the beast was the discovery, on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived with one of its eyes.

With my aversion to the cat, however, its partiality for me seemed to increase. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathes and caresses. If I arose to walk, it would get between my feet, fastening its sharp claws in my clothing clambered to my breasts.

At such times, although I longed to destroy it with a blow, I was withheld from so doing, partly by a memory of my former crime, but chiefly, yes, let me confess it at once, by absolute dread of the beast. This dread was no dread of mere physical evil, but an absolute terror that the animal inspired in me. I have told you of the character of the white hair which constituted the

The sole difference between this strange beast and the one I had destroyed. You will recall that this mark, although large, had been originally very indefinite. But by slow degrees, degrees nearly imperceptible, it had at length assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the representation of an object that I should have domained.

For this, above all, I loathed the monster. It was now, I say, the image of a hideous, of a ghastly thing. The image of the gallows. Neither by day nor by night did I know the blessing of rest anymore. I started hourly from dreams of unutterable fear to feel the hot breath of this, this thing upon my face.

Beneath the pressure of these torments, the feeble remnants of good within me crumbled. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and all mankind. While from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas, was the most patient of sufferers. One day, one day, she accompanied me upon some household errands.

The Cat Followed Me Down The Steep Stairs And Nearly Throwing The Headlong Exasperated Me Into Madness Seizing A Heavy Coal Shovel And Forgetting In My Anger The Dread Which Had Previously Stayed My Hand I Aimed A Violent Blow At The Animal But This Blow Was Arrested By The Hand Of My Wife And I Was

Goaded by her interference into a rage towering above blind fury, I withdrew my arm from her grasp and swung the weapon with full impact against the side of her head. She fell dead on the spot without a groan. This hideous murder accomplished. I set myself with full deliberation to the task of concealing the body. I knew that I could not remove it from the house either by day or by night without the risk of being discovered.

Finally, finally, I hit upon the perfect plan. I would wall it up in the cellar. Yes, as the monks of the Middle Ages are recorded to have walled up their victims. For a purpose such as this, the cellar was well adapted. His walls were loosely constructed and had lately been plastered throughout with rough plaster. And the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented the plaster from hardening. Moreover,

In one of the walls was a projection caused by a false chimney that had been filled up and made to resemble the rest of the cellar. By means of a crowbar, I easily dislodged the bricks at this point. And having carefully deposited the body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position. While with little trouble, I relayed the whole structure as it originally stood. I prepared a plasterer.

A plaster which could not be distinguished from the old. And with this, I very carefully went over the new brickwork. When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was all right. The wall did not present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. My next step, my next step was to look for the beasts which had been the cause of all this. For I had now firmly resolved to put it to death.

But it appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at my violence and disappeared. It is impossible to describe the deep sense of relief which the absence of the detested creature brought to me. It made no appearance that night. So for the first night since its introduction into the house, I slept soundly. Yes, slept, even with the burden of murder upon my soul.

The second and third day passed, and still my tormentor did not come. Once again I breathed as a free man. The monster in terror had fled the premises forever. My happiness was supreme. The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but little. Some few inquiries had been made, but these had been readily answered.

Even a search had been instituted, but of course nothing was to be discovered. I looked upon my future as secure. Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of police came very unexpectedly into the house and proceeded again to make an investigation of the premises. I felt complete security.

The officers left no nook or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into the cellar. I quivered like a muscle. My heart beat calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked into the cellar with them from end to end.

The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. My glee was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if but one word by way of triumph to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness. Gentlemen, I said at last as the party ascended the steps, I am delighted to have allayed your suspicions. By the by, gentlemen, this is a very well-constructed house.

In my rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew that I uttered at all. I may say an excellently well-constructed house, gentlemen. These walls... Are you going, gentlemen? These walls are solidly put together. And here, through the mere frenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily with a cane which I held in my hand upon that very portion of the brickwork behind which stood the corpse of my wife.

But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Archfee. No sooner...

As the reverberations of my blows sunk into the silence, then I was answered by a voice from within the tomb. By a cry at first muffled and broken like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly inhuman. A wailing shriek, half of horror, half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell. From the lips and throats of the damned in their agony. Of my own thoughts.

It is folly now to speak. I staggered to the opposite wall. For one instant, the party on the stairs remained motionless in terror and awe. In the next, a dozen stout arms were working at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head...

With red, extended mouth and solitary eye of fire sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into mortar and whose informing voice had delivered me to the hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb. The mind at midnight is lonely and the senses are sharp. And so from out of darkness of shape and form...

Where a single point of light is focused, the sharp and lonely midnight mind will see faces in the dark. You have been listening to a reading of The Black Cat by Edgar Allan Poe. Adopted by Marvin David. Executive producer, George Heinemann. Producer, John Hinsey. Your narrator was Ken Nordean. Fantasy. I am the skipper...

Captain! Captain Strong! Captain! Captain!

Captain Strong! I say, Captain Strong! Captain Strong, sir! Yes, yes, I think. What is it, man? What's all the rumpus? I'm begging your pardon, sir, but there's someone in your cabin, sir. Well?

Who is it? What's that, Isaac? There's someone in the captain's cabin, sir. Who is it? I don't rightly know, sir. Well, didn't you see who it was? Yes, Mr. Wilson, that I did, sir. But the captain always locks his cabin. Don't you, Captain Strong? I do, but I could have forgot. It wasn't locked just now, Captain. You say you got a look at the man? Aye, sir. And full in the face, Captain.

If you can rightly call it a face. What's that? What do you mean, Isaac? Yes, yes, man. Speak up. What are you trying to tell us? I mean, sir, the man ain't human. He's nothing but a skeleton. What? Nonsense, Isaac. Oh, no, sir, and that is not. I seen him, sir. Looked plumb into his face, I did. And there's nothing there but bones.

White bleach bone, sir. Oh, that's ridiculous. With empty eye sockets and a gaping mouth. And he was writing on your slate, sir. Writing on my slate? Aye, Captain. Writing with a piece of white chalk. Held between his fingers. Fingers with no flesh on them, sir. Well, you've been dreaming, Isaac. Come on. Let's get down to my cabin and have a look. Come along, Mr. Wilson. Right, Captain. Isaac, come on. Aye, sir. Why, it's impossible for anyone to be in my cabin. Come on.

All hands are either on deck or down in the engine room. That's what I say, Captain Strong. He ain't one of the crew. He ain't rightly nobody, sir. Unless you want to call a spirit somebody. Isaac, stop that sort of talk. Oh, but it ain't no sort of talk, sir. Begging your pardon, Mr. Wilson. I seen him with my own eyes. Sitting there, dressed in some sort of get-up I ain't never laid eyes on before.

He had his back to the door. He was writing on your slate with a chalk, Captain. I spoke to him, but he didn't pay me no mind. Just kept right on with his writing. Then I got closer to him, and he still didn't look up. So I stooped down and peered into his face, I did. And then I...

I seen he wasn't nothing but a skeleton, sir. If you were a drinking man, Isaac, I'd have you flogged and put in irons. I'm not so sure he hasn't been at the keg, Captain. Begging your pardon, sir. You'll see for yourself soon enough. Here's the hatch. You first, Captain. Just as I thought.

Nobody here. Oh, cabin's empty. But I locked this door, Captain. So whoever it was couldn't get out. Well, you must have done that all right. I certainly unlocked it just now. You perceive yourself, Isaac, there's no one in here. No, nobody. And no way out except through that door. I say, Captain, have a look. Yes, Mr. Wilson, what is it? Your slate. There is writing on it. Eh? What is it? Well, here, let me see. Here. There, Captain Strong. You see, sir? That's not your writing, is it?

No, it isn't my writing. Then one of the men must have been in here and wrote that. No, I don't think so. Because this writing is a style and a type that was used more than 200 years ago. What? Well, let's see. Hmm. I say, that is strange writing. It's English, all right. Such a peculiar spelling and phrasing. Blimey. I can't read it at all. Isaac. Aye, aye, Captain. I've seen this...

I can't help but believe that you saw somebody sitting here in my cabin writing on my slate. But I won't be convinced that it was a skeleton. But I tell you, sir, I... It was your imagination, Isaac. Oh, no, sir, it wasn't no imagination. I said it was your imagination. You understand? Aye, sir. Now, I don't want you to open your mouth about this to the crew. You hear me? There's, well, there's some explanation. I'm not going to have you stern up the crew with this.

They're all superstitious enough without that. Aye, sir. Those are orders, Isaac. I'll have you in irons if you breathe a word of this to the man. Aye, aye, sir. That's all, Isaac. Aye, sir. Well, Captain Strong? What do you make of it, Wilson? Most extraordinary. I'm positive Isaac did see someone in this cabin. But surely not a fleshless creature. I don't know. Isaac is a sober, steady sort of person. But confounded man.

He hasn't much imagination. Well, who ever heard of a skeleton aboard a ship, much less one that could write on a slate? Stranger things than that have happened at sea. You know that. Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I can't convince myself that what Isaac saw was really some fleshless creature without a brain or heart or eyes. Can you make out the writing on the slate? Yeah, I think so. It says...

It is not correct, the information you have about the sea phantom. Change your course six degrees north, northeast, to location 26 degrees, seven minutes longitude, 18 degrees, nine minutes latitude. Jonathan Strange. Jonathan Strange.

No. No, it can't be. He was the famous captain of the Spanish galleon, the Sea Phantom. The one we're hoping to locate. Yeah, and he was. Jonathan Strange. Dead for 224 years. Lost in a gale in 1718. Yes. But not in the position this message on the slate directs us to. No. No, indeed. The Sea Phantom was supposed to have foundered at 20 degrees longitude...

The message says 26 degrees in seven minutes. Yes. Could this be a trick? A trick, Captain? Someone else who's heard of the immense treasure that went down with the sea phantom. Someone who's trying to steer us off our course, get to the treasure themselves. I doubt that. What do you say you doubt it, Mr. Wilson? Well, sir, we've kept the entire expedition completely secret. Not even the crew know what we're up to. We've tried to keep the entire expedition secret...

I'm positive I haven't mentioned to anyone. Nor have I, Captain Strong. When I stumbled upon the information about the sea phantom, I knew there was an excellent opportunity to recover almost a million dollars worth of gold. Naturally, I needed a boat. You were the first one I thought of. Neither of us would have had a reason for disclosing our knowledge about the treasure. That's just it. That's why I'm so inclined to believe Isaac was telling us the truth. About the thing without flesh...

Writing this message? Precisely. Ah, now that's... that's unbelievable. Even so, Captain, you must admit that a man who's been dead more than 200 years certainly wouldn't be much more than a skeleton. Isn't that right? You mean... Good heavens! You mean this message was actually written by Jonathan Strange himself? I mean exactly that. Hmm. I wonder...

What about it, Captain? Do we change the course? I don't know. What's your advice? Normally, I'm not superstitious. Well, what can we do? I've never believed in ghosts or spirits up to now. But that message on that slate certainly is convincing. Then you're in favor of following the instructions. Well, Mr. Wilson? Yes. Let's change the course and go to the spot the message mentions. If you're willing to take a chance, I certainly am.

Well, come in and stop that noise.

Oh, what in thunder's gotten into you, waking me up in the middle of the night? What time is it anyway? Eight bell, sir. Midnight. Midnight? A big day ahead tomorrow. Oh, confounded man, what do you want? Well, I'm standing watch alone tonight, sir. Maybe I should have told this to the captain, but I come to you first. Well? I just sighted a boat to the port side, sir. Well, have you identified her? Oh, no, sir. You see? Well, she ain't carrying no light, sir. No light? Oh, no, sir.

And she's not like any ship I've ever seen, sir. Hmm. To the port side, you say? Aye, sir. She's riding with full sail. What? Aye, sir. She looks to me like one of those old timeboats you see in pictures. Hand me my boots there, Isaac. I'll come up on deck and have a look.

There she blows, sir. You see? Not a sign of life aboard her, sir. And the moon's full tonight. Look, man. Look. What, Mr. Wilson? That name on the bow. I can't see that far, sir. My eyes are... That name. The sea phantom. Sea phantom, sir? Yes. No wonder she's carrying no lights. No wonder there's no one aboard. What do you mean, sir? Isaac, if you've never seen a ghost ship, take a look at that boat out there. Ghost ship? Yes. Yes.

The sea phantom went down in these waters more than 200 years ago. Blow me down, sir. Are you having a joke with me, Mr. Wilson? No. No, this is no joke. That's a ghost ship, right enough. You watch. She'll be gone in a minute or two. I'm begging your pardon, sir, but that boat's real. Ghost ships always look real, Isaac. But look you, sir. She's close enough to see. She's within throwing distance, I do believe. Here. This belaying pin here, Mr. Wilson...

I'll try to throw it aboard the sea, Phantom. Good. Watch. That pin will just go through thin air. We'll see, sir. Well, here goes. There, sir. You hear that?

She is real. But that boat's so old, she should have fallen apart years ago. And besides that, she's supposed to be at the bottom of the Atlantic. She looks old enough, all right, sir. But I don't understand what you mean about her supposed to be... Isaac. Isaac. Lower a boat. A boat, sir? Yes, confound it a boat. Lower one at once. Are we going aboard the sea, Phantom, Mr. Wilson? I am, yes. Now lower a boat to the port side and double quick about it. Stop rowing now, Isaac. He's up alongside. Isaac. Isaac.

Tie up to that rope hanging there. Right, sir. There. All set, sir. Right. Now you stay here and watch, Isaac, while I go aboard. If I'm not back in a half hour, come aboard looking for me. Aye, aye, sir. Half an hour, sir. If you're not back by then, sir, I'll come aboard after you. Keep a sharp lookout, Isaac. Let me know if you see anybody aboard. Aye, aye, sir. So quiet aboard.

Can't even hear the wind. No sign of life. No sign of life having been here for score upon score of years. Rotting timbers. Sea-soaked deck. Twisted, tangled ropes. Empty kegs with rusted hoops and warped staves. Strips of time-worn sails. And canvas swaying on the masts. Everything's so quiet. Quiet as though in reverence.

The dead. Here. The hatch. Captain's quarters must be down here. Yes. Yes. This must have been his hangout. Let's have a look. A light burning in here. What's that? Oh, bones. An entire human skeleton slumped here on the corner of the cabin...

As though a man had propped himself up there and died. Exactly, my friend. Who's that? Did someone speak? Certainly me. But where are you? Over here. I don't see you. There's no one in this room but myself. Yourself and that gentleman slumped there in the corner. Who are you? My name is Jonathan Strange. Jonathan Strange? You're the skipper of the sea phantom. That I am. Jonathan Strange. Captain of the sea phantom.

Sailing with a cargo of gold for the Spanish ruler. But your boat went down in a gale 200 years ago. So history says, yes. But men do not know everything. I don't understand. The sea pattern was no victim of a storm at sea. Oh, no, my friend. She was the victim of a cruel and vicious man. I still don't understand. Look here. You see the rusted iron ring there on the floor by your feet? Yes. Take hold of it and pull. Pull.

The trapdoor to man my cabin. That's it. It may be difficult. Use your strength on it. A little more force now. Now, that's it. There. You see? Gold. Bar upon bar of solid gold. Yes, gold for the king of Spain. And chests of coins and jewels. One day or for the queen. But Jose would have them for his own.

He intends to mutiny the crew and steal the treasures that have been entrusted to us. Who's this Jose? Jose Minnell, a wicked and cold-hearted fiend. Even now, the crew is waiting for me to leave this cabin. They know they'll never enter here while life is in my body. But surely there's some escape. No, none. They think I'll remain here to starve to death. They're fools.

They do not know that they're about to perish, like the rats they are. What do you mean? Don't you smell the smoke? Listen, I can hear the flames. Yes, yes, I do. They cannot escape in the boats, because I foresaw this mutiny and put the live boats out of commission. But can't you escape? No, of course not.

For you to escape, you must make haste, my friend. How? The same way you went in here, of course. Hurry now, my friend, and take this with you. What is it? What are you giving me? You'll see. Hurry now. There's no time to waste. Soon the ship will be one mass of roaring flames, and none of us will be left alive. Can't I take you with me? Can't you make yourself apparent so I can see you and take you along? No, it doesn't matter. But let me warn you. With my life, I've protected the treasures of the king and queen...

Throughout all eternity, I'll guard those treasures. It will not be wise for any man to attempt to obtain them for his own. Yes, Jonathan Strange. I believe I understand exactly what you mean. That's why you brought me here. Show me. Exactly. I must hurry. Mr. Wilson, sir. Are you in there, Mr. Wilson? Isaac, is that you? Isaac!

Blow me down, Mr. Wilson. This beastly bolt's a fire. If we don't get over here in a jiffy, we'll be paying a visit to Davy Snow's locker before we do it, sir. And so, Captain Strong, that's exactly what happened. And I repeat, it was no nightmare. Isaac here can vouch for that. It's the very truth, Captain Strong. Word for word. So help me heaven. And that was fair warning. And whoever attempts to get the treasures of the Sea Phantom...

Is doomed. Aye, sir. Just as those mutineers were doomed 200 years ago, sir. It's on. Very on. I'm amazed you or the others of the crew weren't awakened by the sound of the fire. No. None of us heard a sound. The men don't even know about it now. I wouldn't have known it about it myself if you two hadn't told me your story. If I hadn't seen those bits of charred wood floating on the surface this morning. It was a huge treasure, Captain.

I saw it in its hiding place, beneath the skipper's cabin. And you got none of it? Not a single bit. Oh, wait. I almost forgot. Just before I left the boat, this thing was handed to me. Handed to you? But I thought you said there was nothing in that cabin but a pile of bones. Yes. Yes, that is right. But this seemed to come, well, almost out of nowhere. And it was placed very firmly in my hands. He sure enough had it in his hands when I broke into the cabin, sir. Uh-huh.

Let's have a look. Hmm. Why, this was the ship's log. The log? Yes. The complete log of the sea phantom's voyage. From the date of sailing right on up through the mutiny. Look, this writing. It's the same hand. The writing on my slate and the writing on this paper are the very same. Curve for curve, angle for angle. Here, let me see. Oh, I say, Captain. Yes, Mr. Wilson. Look here.

On this last page, it reads... Now that it has become my solemn duty to protect the treasures which have been entrusted to me, I will send the sea phantom to her ocean grave together with the treasure. This is my course as I see it. God assist me. Jonathan Strange, May 29th, 1718. D'Arnaud.

You have heard The Sea Phantom, tonight's tale of dark fantasy by Scott Bishop. Ben Morris was heard tonight as Mr. Wilson. Fred Wayne played Captain Strong. Muir Height was Isaac and Garland Moss was Captain Jonathan Strange, skipper of The Sea Phantom. Next Friday at this time, we'll bring you another dark fantasy drama, being the 13th story in this series and next Friday being Friday the 13th

Scott Bishop defies superstition utterly and completely to bring you one of his most exciting and unusual tales. Listen for... W is for Werewolf. A weird adventure laid upon a sunny tropical island where all seems peaceful and serene, but where a grim and vicious destiny festers slowly into breathtaking, unbelievable reality.

Dark Fantasy originates each Friday night in the WKY Studios, Oklahoma City. Tom Paxton speaking. This is the National Broadcasting Company. The Diary of Fate. Fate plays no favorites. It could happen to you. Book 63. The Diary of Fate.

Page 209. In the Diary of Faith. Yes, here it is. The name Philip Vale. Yes, Philip. In the eyes of the state, your name is spelled in numbers. You live in a narrow cell with narrow men. And there you shall remain for the rest of your natural life. Yet had it not been for a little thing, a trifle...

Today you would be free and wealthy. Now, too late. You see that the little things are all part of a plan which, once set in motion, continues unwaveringly to the end ordained. And nothing, no, not even I, fate, can alter its course as this man Philip Vale moves through a life now shorn of meaning and stripped of purpose

You who listen may think me unfair, but first pay heed, for soon I will read from his record in The Diary of Fate. I hope you'll understand. The life record of Philip Bale now lies open before me.

And for a moment, I, fate, look to a single horrible instance. I've got the bond certificate and... and... And what, Philip? What is it? A surprise. Close your eyes. You have a surprise for me. Yes, I do. Come on now, close your eyes. All right. Just as you say. Just close. Tight now.

Yes, in the life of Philip Bale, a surprise was planned. And so was death. But in the last analysis, it was a common, seemingly unimportant thing that determined the inevitable conclusion. An overturned cup. A train missed by seconds. A lost pocketbook. Trivia? Trivia?

Yes, and yet these little happenings are the very instruments I, Fate, employ in shaping your destiny. Remember, Philip, how it all started? You were riding on a train, looking out of the window. Remember? Pardon me, sir. Are you Philip Vale? Oh, yes, I am. You're, uh, you're sure? Of course I'm sure.

And I don't believe I know you. Well, my name is Remini, Douglas Remini. Here's your fountain pen. You left it on the table in the club car. Huh? Oh, by golly, so I did. Well, thank you. Thank you very much. Luckily, your name was on it. Mind if I sit down? Oh, no, no, not at all. Here, let me move these papers. Oh, thanks. Cigarette? Oh, yes, yes, thank you. You know, I'm glad this happened. Traveling alone is very dull.

A little thing. A lost fountain pen. And out of it, a friendship. Yes, Philip, within an hour you had learned that Douglas Remini was a wealthy man. An investment broker. And soon the two of you went back to the club car. The drinks you consumed caused you to freely confide in your now attentive companion.

Oh, yes. Aunt Ruth is rich, all right. And one day, every dollar she has will be mine. I can't stand her. You see, Mr. Remini... No, no, no. Douglas. Douglas will do. Douglas. Well, you see, I thoroughly dislike her prim manner, and I despise her Victorian self-righteousness. I'd rather make my money in a good, solid deal, like the one you just spoke of.

I'd rather do that than wait for Aunt Ruth to die. You don't sound very concerned for your Aunt Ruth's health. I'm not. But I'm certain that the sanctimonious Ruth Vale will outlive both. And how old a woman is she? Oh, close to 70. And you believe it or not, she's already been on her deathbed four times.

But she always pulls through. Won't give up the ghost, huh? No, she thinks death is only for the common man. And you, Philip, are her favorite. Is that it? Subject to change without notice, I guess. I see. Aunt Ruth demands someone loyal to look after her and her money. Not a bad job. Not if I watch my step, it isn't.

But don't you forget, Douglas, there are others in the family, but they don't love her quite as much as you do. Nobody loves Aunt Ruth like I do. Water, Ruth Limited.

Now we'll have to take separate cabs, Douglas. I'm not staying with Aunt Ruth. It's too gloomy in her place. I'll be at the Raymond Hotel. All right, I'll call you there in the morning. I suppose you still insist that I take this check? Absolutely.

If you can turn $500 into $1,000 in 24 hours, I want to be your partner. But you don't know anything about me. That's my risk. Well, you call early tomorrow and we'll have lunch together. Okay. Oh, and by the way, I hope Aunt Ruth isn't feeling too well. Well, thanks. Thanks very much. Yes, Philip.

Douglas Remini shared your sentiments about your aunt and about money. You had found a partner. The thought comforted you that evening at the Vale home when you talked to the family physician and learned that your aunt was still far from the grave. I see, Dr. Colbert.

Then as long as Aunt Ruth is in good spirits, we have nothing to worry about. Well, it's not that simple, Philip. There is danger. After all, she's passed 68 years and she's led our most active life. Yes, of course. I understand perfectly. Good. I'm sure your presence will be atomic. Well, I must be on my way now. Good night, Philip. Good night, Doctor.

We have guests, Philip. No, Aunt Ruth. Dr. Colfax just left. I'm glad. A man is hardly sociable with all his idiotic talk about my way of life. I buy his knowledge of drugs and not his shallow philosophy. Well, nevertheless, you've got to take it easy, Aunt Ruth. Now that I'm here, you must forget about business and just relax. Completely relax. Not that easy, Philip.

I didn't get what I have by relaxing, and I can't make money if I forget about business. Aunt Ruth, I thought we discussed that thoroughly at dinner. We did, and I am going to let you run things, Bill, once you've proven yourself that you still have much to learn. So we'll move slowly from the outset. Aunt Ruth, can't you ever lose the picture of me as the little boy vacationing from prep school?

You know, in two days, I'll be 35. Oh, no. Don't be impatient, Philip. It's a sign of poor breeding. You inherited that from your mother's side of the family, I'm sure. Well, very well, Andrew. I won't discuss it any further. The results will speak for themselves.

I'll get it. Well, it's Henry. Why, I keep a butler that goes to bed every night at nine o'clock in the morning. Hello? Is that you, Phil? Oh, hello, Douglas. Didn't expect to talk to you until morning. I couldn't wait that long. Wanted to tell you that the deal's gone through already. So soon? Yep. You can have your check by noon tomorrow. What? Pull out now? No, sir. I'll give you a check then. And a bigger one.

A $500 profit in less than eight hours. What are you mumbling about, Philip? Not polite. Nothing, Aunt Ruth. Nothing at all. Well, shall we get to work now? The bondsman. There's little to do. I've arranged with Hoffman to give you my limited power of attorney and a certified check for $20,000. Tomorrow you simply go to Hepworth and Parson. Hepworth and Parson?

Not the railroad issue. Well, of course, Philip. The railroad issue. It stays. Stays a steady one and a half percent. Are you blind, Aunt Ruth? Are you still living in the 1890s? Philip. Today, now. Why, there are half a dozen ways for us to double that $20,000 in less time. You will get the railroad bonds. My mind is made up. The End

Honestly, Phil, you're like a kid with a new toy. A $500 toy. That's what I mean. I made $15,000 on that deal, and I'm not half as excited as you are. What's more, I intend to do it again today. Well, give me time. I'll get used to big money. No, it doesn't work that way. In this business, my boy, time and money are one and the same thing. You've got to have the cash in exactly the right place at exactly the right moment.

Oh, by the way, here's your check. No, no, you keep it. Reinvest it for me. I like the way you do business. Well, everyone always tells me there's nothing I don't know about the market. Now, you watch. In a week, the market will be dead. What are you saying? That you can make almost dollar for dollar today, maybe even tomorrow. But after that? Conditions change, Phil. Maybe a month, maybe a year before I'd move again. I'm glad you told me that. Douglas, I have a certified check in my pocket for $20,000.

Well, you handled it for 50% of the profits? Yes. All right. It's a deal. Yes, Philip, you made a decision. You converted your aunt's check into cash and gave the money to Douglas. There would be time later to buy the railroad bond, and your mind was at ease that night when you dined with your aunt, or you could see riches for yourself.

within the next 24 hours. Did you enjoy your dinner, Philip? Philip, I'm talking to you. Huh? Oh, excuse me. I guess my mind was elsewhere. I've noticed that this evening, Philip, and I don't approve. Sorry, Aunt Ruth. I've had a busy day. What did Mr. Hepworth say this afternoon? Mr. Hepworth?

Oh, oh, I had Hepworth and Parsons. Why, uh, he, uh, he thought the railroad issue was an intelligent buy. He said that we should... Stop that. Stop lying. What do you mean? Mr. Hepworth died 13 years ago. What?

Well, it must have been... Well, I suppose... I suppose you talked to just anyone. Yes, that's it. I mean, I didn't know his name. That's the sort of thing I don't like, Philip. If you're to handle my affairs, you must be 100% thorough. Where are the bond certificates? The certificates? Oh, they're in my hotel room. In your hotel room? Philip, they belong here, in my safe.

Be certain you bring them tomorrow. Yes, Aunt Ruth. I'll be certain to have them for you. Yes, Philip. By then you would have the bonds. Aunt Ruth would be satisfied and you would be rich. You were impatient the next morning as you waited in your hotel room for a call from Douglas. Hello? Philip?

Is the deal through? Is it over with? How much did we make? Oh, look, Phil, this is a funny business. Nobody hits it on the head every time. What do you mean? What are you trying to say? Doug, tell me.

You lost, Bill. We both lost every penny, but it's not the end of the world. Not for you it isn't. Now get a hold of yourself. I lost too. Tomorrow's another day and the market's still ripe. If we can cover ourselves, we've nothing... Listen to me, Douglas. That $20,000 wasn't mine. What? That check I cashed. It belonged to my aunt. I was supposed to buy railroad bonds for her.

I never can tell her I used the money for myself. She'll disown me. She'll... What are you going to do? There's only one thing for us to do. Us? What are you saying? Listen, Doug. You and I are still partners. If I'm discovered, I'm ruined. Forever. She has thousands, Douglas. Hundreds of thousands. And if we're smart, the money is ours. But what can we do? Only one thing. We'll get rid of her.

There was no doubt in your mind, was there, Philip? Now you decided to kill Ruth Bales. Now it was too late to turn back. Soon you would move again. And soon I faked it.

would record another entry in The Diary of Fate. Yes, Philip Vale. You were convinced that your aunt had to die immediately. Even as you drove with Douglas over a deserted back road...

and discussed for the last time the details of your scheme for murder, your mind ran ahead to the moment when there would be no Ruth Bale, when you and Douglas would be rich. But how about the servants, and what if she sees you with a gun in your hand? She won't see anything. I just told you how I'd do it. You really think you can make it look like suicide? Sure. I've already called and made an appointment for nine this evening. I said I wanted to give her the bond certificates and something else.

Something I ran across while shopping. Oh, you mean a present? Yes, a present. She was almost thrilled, too. You see, from nine o'clock on, she'll be in the library like she is every night. The butler will be asleep.

I'll tell her I have a surprise. Make her close her eyes. Then you approach without resistance. Fire. Put the gun in her hand and you call for help. I'll say we've argued. The gun will be her late husband. I know where it's kept. I'll say I was at the door when the shot rang out. Yeah, but why should Ruth Bale commit suicide, Philip? Because she's despondent, lonely. I refused to live at her place. Wanted my own life. So people will criticize the selfish nephew at first. But no one will ever suspect me.

And then there's the doctor. Where does he fit in? Dr. Kolpak is Aunt Ruth's personal physician. His testimony will substantiate her suicide. You see, Douglas, I'm going to talk to him now. Sorry I kept you waiting, Philip. What's your trouble? It's about Aunt Ruth. Dr. Kolpak, may I speak frankly? Of course, my boy. What is it? I'm worried, doctor. Worried about Aunt Ruth. Her frame of mind.

Doctor, last night she threatened to take her life. What? We had an argument. She... You know how hard it is to work with her. She's... Why, she's so set in her ways. You see, she wants me to take over her business affairs. I advised that a year ago. But she simply refuses to let go of the reins. Tell me, Philip, what happened last night? Oh, I objected to her half measure. She tells me to use my own judgment, then interferes. We were both excited, I suppose, but it ended with me threatening to go back to Syracuse.

Then, uh, then she said she'd kill herself if I left. Mm. I've known all along your aunt was lonely, Philip, but she never appeared despondent to me. She hides under a cloak of severity. Yet the strange thing is that she changes in a matter of minutes. Why, only this morning she called and invited me to a dinner for two this evening. Said we'd be alone, could catch up on the family gossip. She was almost gay, Doctor, and never even mentioned the argument with him. Mm-hmm. I see.

Well, my boy, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Ruth Vale, if I may be blunt, is an unfortunate combination of hysteria and old age. Nothing more, I'm certain. I'm glad to hear you say that, Doctor. I've been very concerned. You won't say anything about this, my visitor? Of course not. Don't worry, Philip. Everything will be all right. THE END

Yes, Philip. Everything would be all right. You were certain of that as you sat alone in your hotel room that evening... and meticulously rechecked the details of the crime you were about to commit. Finally, you were ready. You descended to the lobby and cheerfully talked... first to the elevator operator... and then to the night manager. When you entered the hotel jewelry store...

You were in high spirit. Good evening, sir. Can I show you something? Yes, I'm looking for a necklace. Something simple but not too expensive. Uh-huh. Something for your wife, sir? No, it's for my aunt. She's an elderly woman. Oh, mm-hmm.

In that case, may I suggest a brooch rather than a necklace? Now, this topaz crown is lovely. No, I don't think she'd like that. But let me see that green one there. Ah, an exquisite design in jade. Especially fitting for an older lady. Yes, I believe you're right. I'll take it. Fine, fine, sir. I'm sure it will make her happy. Yes, Philip.

You were careful to appear unlike a man about to commit murder. You had the jeweler wrap the package attractively after you had inserted a card addressed to my dear Aunt Ruth. Yes, you were thorough. And an hour later, as you and Douglas drove in his car toward your aunt's house...

Now, you sure you know your job, Douglas? I'm positive. After you leave me at the club, I'll mix and get around, appear gay. When I hear the news, I'll be shocked. That's it. That's all. Good heavens, of all the luck. A blowout. All confounded and a mile from nowhere. Yes, a little thing. A tire blew out. And now, Philip...

Your schedule for murder was upset. While Douglas worked feverishly to change the tire, you walked to the drugstore nearly a mile away and called your aunt to explain the delay.

But you're sure you're not hurt, Philip? I'm fine, Aunt Ruth. It's just that I'll be at least another half hour. Oh, well, that's all right. Mr. and Mrs. Pallis are here now, Philip. You remember them. I thought we were going to be alone. Oh, they'll leave soon after you get here. It was just a business matter. Look, Aunt Ruth, I'm sort of upset now, being so late, and I'm not sure when my friend will have the tire changed.

I, uh, I wonder... If we could make it tomorrow night instead, well, that would be perfect, Philip, perfect. Then we'll be set to have some privacy. Fine. Well, good night, Aunt Ruth. Oh, Philip. Yes, Aunt Ruth? What was it you got for me today? Oh, that? That's still a surprise, Aunt Ruth. A big surprise. THE END

Yes, you still had a surprise for your Aunt Ruth, Philip. But now it was postponed 24 hours. A little thing. A tire blew out. And because of it, Ruth Bale lived another day. The next night you arrived at her house and parked in front of the dimly lighted building. You watched until a few minutes after nine when the light went off in the butler's room.

Then a strange tenseness gripped you as you quietly let yourself in the front door with the key your Aunt Ruth had provided. You stealthily moved to your late uncle's room, and as you took his loaded pistol from a desk drawer, your face was beaded with perspiration. But finally, you were ready. As you walked to the library, your hand opened and closed nervously,

Around the neatly tied package you held. Who is it? It's me, Aunt Ruth. Oh, come in, Philip. I'm waiting for you.

Where... Where are you? Over here in the armchair. Don't bother turning on the lights. It's restful with just the light from the fireplace. Yes, it is. I've got the bond certificates and... and... What, Philip? What is it? A surprise. Close your eyes. You have a surprise for me. Yes, I do.

Come on now, close your eyes. All right. Just as you say. That's close. Tight now. Yes, Philip. You took the only way out. In the cloister of the darkened family library, you fired a single shot and your aunt was dead. Ooh.

And now, lest any who listen think that I, fate, am without regard for the inevitable equilibrium of the delicate scales of justice, I implore you to pay heed, for in a moment, I will read again from the record of Philip Bale in The Diary of Fate. The Diary of Fate

The laws of man and the laws of nature follow the same pattern. Yes, Philip Vale, for every action there is a reaction equal in intensity and the opposite in direction.

Time and again, your remorse-filled mind goes back to the night you murdered Ruth Bale. Close your eyes. You have a surprise for me. Yes, I do. Come on now. Close your eyes. All right. Just this one day.

Let's close. Tight now. Light! Turn on the light! He's done it! He's done it! No! Doctor, this is... I saw him! What are you doing here? No! Drop that gun! Drop it! But... But...

All of you here. Why? Why? This was to be a surprise party for you, Philip. It's your bad day. Now it is time to close the book. Justice has been served. Little thing. A misplaced fountain pen. Oh.

A trained friendship. A flat tire. A forgotten birthday, which I, Fate, planned. All seemingly minor things, but these are the tools with which I worked. Yes, justice was dealt swiftly. And now Philip and Douglas sit in their cells cursing me, Fate. Take heed and remember, you who listen.

For there is a page for you in... The Diary of Fate. Produced by Larry Finley. Diary of Fate is a Finley transcription. Brought to you from Hollywood. The Diary of Fate

Welcome once more, ladies and gentlemen, to our half hour of horror.

This week, our story takes us to beside a huge church. Strange, of course, because a church is normally a place of peace, tranquility, and has its own kind of beauty. But this one, it's for all the world as though the city was recoiling from it, like those in fear from a tiger let loose. MUSIC

Good morning, Mrs. Williams. Good morning, Mr. Phillips. It is Mr. Phillips, isn't it? Yes, that's correct. I'm so glad you're here for my husband's big day. Oh, I'm one of the church wardens as well as the verger. Indeed, I think you'll find I'm never far from the church. And I'm Rubens, Mrs. Williams, the other warden. We feel very comfortable that your hospital will prove a worthy successor to our dear late lamented Karen Maitland. Who?

The right man for the job. Yes, the right man for the job. Thank you. But have I arrived early or... No, Mrs. William. The three of us are the congregation. Oh. The peace of God, which passeth all understanding. Keep your hearts and minds...

I mean, look at this kitchen. Fully equipped down to the last food mixer. Hannah Maitland must have been awfully well after all this. No one to leave it to when he died. Well, he was very old. Ninety-four, to be precise. But aren't you supposed to retire at seventy? Yes, but none of the normal rules seem to apply here. You can say that again. It's the Wednesday morning services I dread, though. When there's only me in the church. Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of hosts.

Heaven and earth, heaven and earth are full of thy glory. Glory be, glory be to thee, O Lord most high. Amen. Amen. Hello?

Oh, wonderful acoustic. Larry, I'm really glad to see you. Felt bad after our frank chatting in the theatre bar about your lack of congregation, Martin. So decided to show some solidarity. You sacked my awful performance as A.E.G. Cartrige. Unfortunately, I seem to have miscommunicated. Oh, it's no great loss. I tried to sing the service, but here, all alone, I just can't quite...

There are too many echoes. And all these old inscriptions to contemplate. Rows and rows of plaques, all inscribed with messages of mortality. Some right odd names as well. And look at this lot. Which one? Canso. Frederick Canso. William Hewitt Canso. Joshua Canso. I've heard that one before. Oh, there are others. Even harder. Look at this. Morsk. Weird. And this one. Drogo. That's the one that crops up most. Drogo.

There must be more drogos buried in a crypt under the church than all the rest put together. Three of these odd names have died out. Oh, what's that? It's the vestry phone, strange. Sheila's the only one who uses it, isn't she? She's supposed to be teaching them. So, we need to get... Yeah, of course, go on. St Margaret's Church. Can I help you? You mean St Austin Friars?

Yes? Then why didn't you say so? We've got a funeral for you. Oh, um... Wait, let me find a diary and a pencil. Ah, here we are. Good. Right. Now, who's speaking? This is Bettles, the undertaker's deceased name is William Henry Drogo. Did you say Drogo? Yes, that's right. D-R-O-G-O. Friday morning, 28th March at 10.30 a.m.

Fine. Will you want the bell round... Old Phillips knows how we like it. Leave it to him. Just ask Old Phillips. He'll fill you in. Everything okay? Yes. Odd coincidence, though. I won't. In what way? Undertaker's booking a funeral for someone named Drogo. So the name's not dead and gone. Apparently not. 28th of March at 10.30. Sorry? That's when the funeral is. Makes Friday. Martin, today's the 26th of February. Oh.

What? So it is. Someone has just booked a funeral a month in advance. How could they possibly know? Oh, very odd. It must be some mistake. What exactly did he say? Well, there's no undertaker called Bettel in the phone book. Why not ask old Phillips to suggest it? Because I have a feeling I'd make a fool of myself. He and Rubens don't encourage communication. We could look up Drogo, I suppose. Who is it? D-D-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-D-R-

Good Lord. There are eight Drogo's in Lancaster. Eight? Including Drogo's Pharmaceutical Suppliers and Wholesalers, and a Drogo William H. And a very lush-sounding address in Willingdon. Drogo Pharmaceuticals, can I help you? Yes. I wondered if I could speak to William H. Drogo. You mean Mr. William Henry Drogo, our chairman?

Yes, I suppose so. Well, I'm afraid Mr Drogo is out all day at a meeting in London. But of course, Mr... Williams. Of course, Mr Williams. If you would care to ring back tomorrow... Thank you. Do you mind if I ask a rather peculiar question? If you think I can be of assistance, Mr Williams...

Are there any other William Henry Drogo's? Oh, no, Mr. Williams. There is only one Mr. William Henry Drogo. I can assure you of that. I am acquainted with the entire family, and there is only one Drogo family, at least in Britain. Thank you so much for calling. Well? He seems very much alive. A cover-up, perhaps. Some firms are pretty vulnerable when the big boss man suddenly dies. But you couldn't hope to cover up a death for a month. Could you?

I just think she'd feel a little all a bit too crazy

Drogo Pharmaceuticals. Good morning. Good morning. My name is Williams. Ah, yes, Mr. Williams, of course. Could you hold the line a moment and I'll put you through to Mr. Drogo? He is expecting you. Thank you, but I... Yes? Mr. Drogo. Mr. William Henry Drogo. Yes. It was me you wished to speak to, Mr. Williams. Yes. Yes, that's right. Yes.

Only I don't really know how to start. If I may say so, you sound rather upset. Well, yes, I am a little upset, I suppose. There's something I have to tell you. I am right in thinking you are the new rector of St. Austen Friars. Yes. How do you know that? We've always had a family interest in St. Austen's. If something is concerning you, perhaps you would honour my granddaughter and myself with your company at dinner tomorrow night. Well, yes, thank you. If it's not too much of a...

Till tomorrow evening, Mr. Williams. I'm Cilicia Drogo. We're through in here. My grandfather's given the servants the evening off. Grandfather, this is Mr. Williams. Ah, Mr. Williams. Delighted to make your acquaintance. But I hope to speak to Mr. Drogo. I am Mr. Drogo. Mr. William Henry Drogo? The same. Forgive me, you're surely no more than 50, and your granddaughter must really be, well...

Around 30, if I'm not mistaken. There is no mistake, Mr. Williams. Have a seat and let me get you a drink. Thank you. If you'll both excuse me for a while, I must see to the dinner. Till later then, Mr. Williams. Yes, yes. Thank you. My granddaughter interests you, I think. Mr. Drogo, I wouldn't like you to imagine for a moment that I... Merely an observation, Mr. Williams. No criticism implied.

Now, let me get you that drink, and you tell me what is worrying you. So you see, Mr Drogo, Vettel was B-E-T-Y-L, and there used to be an Undertaker of that name, but their premises have just been demolished, and there's no record of where they've come to. I wouldn't have bothered you with all this, only it's been preying on my mind. Yes? Is it just some ridiculous practical joke, or a threat of some kind against your life, or something? Yes.

I mean, it sounds like something the Mafia would do if we had anything like the Mafia in Moncastle. Oh, we had the Mafia in Moncastle a couple of years ago, on a very small scale. But we had a quiet word in the Chief Constable's ear, and they went away, peacefully enough. Then why should anyone want... Our supper must be ready. Please, Mr. Williams, come and eat.

A little more, Mr. Williams. No, really, I couldn't. That was delicious, Miss Drogo. I'm sorry, I was assuming... No, you're perfectly correct. I'm not married. But you... you surprised me. Oh.

In what way? Mr. Williams is being flattering, Cilicia. No, no, really. It's obvious from your conversation, Mr. Drogo, that you know a great deal more about the history of my church than I do. Well, I suppose we Drogos have always had a special feeling for St. Austin's. We think of it as our church. About that strange film call, then, was I meant to come and tell you? Oh, yes, you were meant to come and tell me. Why? Because I am going to die on March the 26th. Oh, I...

I see, I'm sorry. The doctor's told you, and so... Yes. But he can't have told you the exact date, can he? I chose the date. What? Why are you in the pink of health? Do you know how old I am? No, but I... I am 192 years old. On March the 26th. I thought that made it rather neat.

Miss Drogo, I... And I, Mr. Williams, am 84 next birthday. Look, look. I came here in good faith. I didn't come here to be made a fool of. We are not making a fool of you. Cilicia, my dear, show Mr. Williams your birth certificate. Of course, Grandfather. There really is no need to look so alarmed, Mr. Williams. Isn't that... Here we are. Go on, read it.

Celestia Margaret Drogo, born July the 8th, 1905, to William Canzo Drogo and Margaret Drogo, formerly Petal. Do you want to see her parents' marriage certificate as well? I want your mind to be absolutely satisfied. We need your presence at my funeral very badly, Mr. William. You think I want my coat? As you wish, of course.

But it would be easier for you if you went with my granddaughter now. She could make everything perfectly clear to you, and none of what you have to do need ever worry you again. She helped old Cannon Maitland to see things clearly. We gave Cannon Maitland a very contented life for many years.

He was almost one of us. Mr. Drogo, Mr. Drogo, there is only one thing I want from you just now. It is my coat. Of course, Mr. Williams, if you insist. Cilicia, fetch Mr. Williams his coat to renew. Of course, Grandfather. But now, oh, Mr. Williams, what a pity.

What a terrible pity. We need you, Mr. Williams. We need you now. Martin, you're home early, aren't you? I wasn't expecting you to... Martin, what happens to the matter? Is something wrong? Sheila, this is going to seem very strange, but I want you to sit down and listen very carefully. Martin... Please. Martin, come on. It's good of you to see me, sir. No, not at all. Ah...

I've taken up your complaint with Mr Drogo. He's apologised handsomely, as you see. Said his granddaughter was a great one for practical jokes and rather one for the men. More than I care to admit about my granddaughter. Said he was a fool to go along with her, but didn't know how far she was going. A damn decent apology, I call that. He's writing to you. Wants you to take your missus over for a meal. Make things up. Sherry? But I didn't make a complaint, Bishop. No? No.

I wrote you a detailed report marked personal and confidential. I had no idea you were going to tell Mr Drogo its contents. It hasn't done any harm, has it? It just turns out... Well, I feel I should inform you that it cannot be a practical joke, as Mr Drogo claims. Oh? I've been doing some investigating. I went up to London, Somerset House, births, deaths and marriages. I spent the whole day checking...

There has not been a single Drogo birth since 1905. That was Cilicia. But from the electoral rolls, there are at the present time 32 Drogos living in Moncastle. Rubbish! Stuff and nonsense! Of course they were born! I know a lot of them well. Michael Drogo is a solicitor to the Diocesan Board. Giles Drogo was chairman of the Rotary last year. In a quiet way, the Drogos are Moncastle.

I don't know what we'd do without them. They keep things under control. So it's their foundation supporting St. Austen's? Yes, of course. And I don't want you having the moral vapours on my heartthrob about it. You'll not prosper in Moncastle long if you get the Drogo's backs up. Why, anybody in their senses should want to. There's something going on at St. Austen's. Something against the will of God. That, Martin, is my province to decide. If you don't agree with me, you can always resign. No, I thought not.

Go home and think it over. I don't want to lose you when you're doing so well. I haven't just had an invitation for you to give a talk on your city centre work to the social services department of the university. The James Drogo Memorial Lecture, no less. Congratulations, the James Drogo Memorial Lecture. Yes, that's right. And when might that be? According to the invite, Friday 28th of March, 10.30am. Anything the matter, Martin? No.

Don't you see, darling, since I won't play it their way, the Drogos want me out of the church on the morning of the funeral. Out of the way, so they can... Can what? Don't know. That's the awful thing. It's only two itself, and we still don't know. Well, they can hardly bury Mr. Drogo in the churchyard. It's been closed how long? A hundred years? They don't need to use the churchyard. St. Austen's has got a crypt. All those names on the plaques on the church walls, near this spot by the mortal remains and so on.

They're lying under the floor in coffins on shelves in a place probably as big as the church itself. I didn't know that. No, most people don't. They wouldn't go near some churches. It's a kind of clerical conspiracy of silence, mind you. Martin, I've just had the oddest feeling. Where was old Canon Maitland buried? It'll be in the church diary, in the church. Let's go and look. We can be there and back in ten minutes. All right, but are you sure? It's better than not knowing, isn't it?

Come on. Careful, careful. Now, let's throw some light on the matter. All right, but what if... What if what? I was thinking about old Phillips. Ask old Phillips. He knows the ropes, you mean. Yes, exactly. We'll just have to hope he's tucked up in bed at home. There. Oh, that's better. Still looks decidedly gloomy.

Come on. Where is it? On the table there. Ah, here we are. Ah, J.K. Eltham. Recorded by old Phillips, by the look of it. The funeral of Canon Maitland, conducted by somebody around the Trinity Hall, Cambridge. Canso. The Reverend Leonard Canso. Another one of their names. The body was interred in the crypt of St. Austin Friars by special faculty, authorized by...

The bishop. Because of his long and faithful service to the church of 70 years... Where's the door down to the crypt? I don't know. There are two. I've never been down. One's the boiler house with the central heating. I left all that to old Phillips. As in ask old Phillips? Yes. Shall we take a look? These doors are solid oak, but we'll never force them. And old Phillips has the only keys, no doubt.

Don't most old boiler rooms have another door to the outside for when the coke was delivered? That might be open. It's worth a try. Sheila! Sheila, wait! Sheila! Shush! I'm over here. I wish we'd brought a torch. Without the lights from the church, I'd never have found it. So that's the door, then? Yes. Careful of this old coal. Shut and locked. It's probably only a coal hole, darling. Let's hope so. Shh! Somebody's coming. Shh!

Quick, behind here. It's Phillips. He's bound up to the lights in the church. What's he doing? Well, that's not the first time he's opened that in the dark. Well-oiled hinges. How's he going? That's mad. Unlocking the door at dusk. I'm leaving it ajar. Who put it open? Do we take a look inside? Why not? Let's go.

I can't see. Phillips must be switching the lights off in the church. But I don't want to be here. Not in the dark. Not if I see anything. Let's get back home. Come on.

Miss McBride. Phillips is bound to guess, Martin. Not necessarily. If we're sitting in here at home, he can't have seen from the church whether the lights were on or not. We could be here all evening. Yes. Get time to do sure. I'll turn the radio on. Martin, please relax. I think we can guess who that'll be.

Please relax. Your keys, I believe, Mr. Williams. Yes. Yes, I think so. I found the church unlocked and all the lights on. The vestry open and the church diary. Evening, Mrs. Williams. Evening. I thought at first it was vandals. Sorry, I'd be mean to go back and lock up. I'll just switch off. You know, Mr. Williams, you want to be careful. A lot more careful. And your good wife. Canon Maitland would never have made a mistake like that.

Very happy and well settled here, Cannon Maitland. Yes, so I gather. Good night, Mr. Williams. And please, do be more careful.

Curious, I am curious. You're going to be mad, Larry. Well, I was there for that initial phone call, don't forget. I can't face my Wednesday services alone anymore. I keep thinking, if God's above listening, who's listening down there in the crypt? And why did they need that door open at dusk? The doors are locked all the time now, mind. Old Phillips is clearly not taking any chances. He's around practically every hour of the day and night. All ready for the big day tomorrow.

28th of March, which is where I come in. Exactly. If you'll do it. Gladly. Thank you. If you really think I'll get away with impersonating you... I have every trust in your powers of mimicry, having seen them in action. Besides, Sheila will be there to give you moral support. You will probably deliver the Drogo Memorial Lecture better than Martin could. Well, if that's what you want, both of you. I am never going to find out what's going on at St. Austin Friars. I have to be there at the funeral watching. And you'll be all right on your own, I think. Oh, I don't intend to be there on my own.

I've contacted the police. You're really taking this seriously, aren't you? Very seriously. Chilly morning for these sort of duties, sir. Yes, I'm sorry, but I thought it best for us to be here in good time. Things are due to start about 10.30, you say? Yes, Sergeant, yes, that's right. Well, we should be able to see most of it from here, shouldn't we? Without whoever they are seeing us. Black magic, do you reckon, sir? Something like that. Nasty business, black magic.

That'll be your Phillips. Might this be the funeral court, eh, sir? Do things from some style, please. What did you say the name was? Drogo. They must all be here. The 31 remaining Drogos. That one over there is Silithia Drogo. No, I may be wrong, but... But if the family looked at them, I agree, sir. Easy to make a mistake, I imagine.

Handsome-looking women, all of them, sir. Well-preserved for their age, I think you could say, Sergeant. Coffin's going in, sir, and the family are following. What do you want us to do now? I know where we can get a good view inside. There's a window in the bell chamber. Look right down into the body of the church. Lead on then, sir. I'm right behind. Come on, sir. The window's over there. Come on.

Quite a good turnout, sir. Why, hundreds of them. I wonder if they've come from... We never saw this many going in. Yes, I thought so. Look, the crypt door's wide open. Ah, Mr. Williams. How good to see you up there. We're all so glad you could make it after all. Ah.

Mr. Bettle! Do come down and join us, Mr. Williams. Sergeant, help me. Do something. Don't just stand there. Don't you see what's happening in my church? I think you ought to go down, sir. What do you mean? Don't you realize who... what they are? My warrant card, sir. Sergeant Harold Morsk, Moncasta CID. Morsk? Then you're one of them. Yes, sir.

And there's no point to resisting. None, sir. We've gone to a lot of trouble to make sure you made it to our little service. Vital you were present, you see. Shall we go down? So glad you came after all, Mr. Williams. You see, we are a God-fearing race who have always supported your church and we need you to say...

Amen. Without a clergyman's blessing, some of our number here are liable to get a bit out of hand and run wild. We do feel it's the least you can do for us. Now, please, will you stand by the late Mr. William Henry Drogo's coffin? Thank you so much, Mr. Williams.

Now, please, Mr. Williams. Amen. Amen. Amen. Mr. Williams. You, you. I'm sorry, but you look just like the late Mr. Drogo. Mr. William Henry Drogo. That is not entirely surprising. Thank you for your contribution. As a result, the congregation have all departed peacefully to their...

Various places of rest. There are still people cruel enough to sharpen ash stakes for us. The world gets a little better, except on the surface. Now we shall have no trouble in Moncastle. For the moment, at least. Thank you. These things trouble you? Cilicia here...

has an affection for you. Go with her now, and she will make all things well for you. No, I can't. Don't, don't, don't be frightened, Martin. Come with me. Cilicia. Yes, Grandfather. Not in the crypt. We are not anticipating a permanent arrangement with Mr. Williams. The vestry will do perfectly well. Yes, Grandfather. Come on, Martin. No, no. Come on. Come on.

Vestry doors wide open and welcoming. When Martin Williams awoke on the vestry floor, he couldn't quite remember what had happened to him. He felt a deep inner glow, but an irritation on the left side of his neck as if he'd been stung. Soon afterwards, he and his wife were suddenly transferred to a small rural living. Currently, there's no vicar at St. Austin Friars, but one is urgently being sought...

For the dark forces buried deep in the vault could break loose and get seriously out of hand. In this story, Michael Maloney played the young vicar, Melinda Walker, his wife, Michael Deacon, his actor friend, Geoffrey Whitehead, old Phillips, Clifford Norgate, Rubens, Joe Kendall, the secretary. The vampire fraternity was David March, William Henry Drogo, Margaret Robertson, his daughter, Norman Bird, the bishop.

John Moffat, Battle the Undertaker, and Michael Graham Cox, Sergeant Morse. St. Austin Friars was adapted for radio by Stephen Wyatt, from the short story by Robert Westall. The director was Martin Jenkins. My name is Edward D'Souza, your man in black. And my story next week takes you into the world of dreams. Or should I say, ladies and gentlemen, nightmares.

Five after the hour by Les Weinroth. ♪♪

It is five after the hour. Play the theme song, Mr. Conductor. Play it sweet, play it smooth. Make music a man can whistle.

Thank you. A theme song is composed for you, listener. Fashioned so that you can settle yourself comfortably near your radio, designed for your ease in listening. Require time for comfort and ease. 50 seconds. ♪♪

Now, prepare to be disturbed by the man without a face. Now they've gone. I must think this out very carefully. I must decide what to say before they return to kill me. Oh, it is so difficult to think now. Think, man, think. Your future, your life depends upon it. Ha, ha.

Your future, your life. Do you not remember the day you died? Ten, or was it eleven years ago? I was at home, getting ready to attend a meeting of the bakers. Now, Liebchen, my cat. Here it is, dear. My, you do look handsome. Do you like it worn straight, or cocked over his eyes, or...

Very jauntily. That way.

Excellent. Excellent. Such singing, such magic. Hey, it was good. And the beer?

Wunderbar. What more pleasant a life could a man desire? Good friends, good companionship, laughter, music, and marching to Sturmey. Right. Absolutely right. How easily you are both contended. Why should we not be content? Why indeed? Sturmey lies bleeding.

Dispaced by the terms of a sigh. Sold out by the capitalists and the communists and the Jews. And you are content to wear those foolish uniforms and sing sentimental songs. You, you have no purpose in life. What greater purpose can one have than to raise a fine family, have a successful bakery, and belong to a club? Yes, whatever are you talking?

Blind, blind thought of you. History is being written around you and you have not the eyes to see. Germany's destiny is being planned and you have not the sense to understand. He has come to lead Germany, to redeem Germany. He will be our savior. I should have sensed it then.

I should have recognized it as a disease. A disease that would spread over all Germany. A disease from which the German soul would shrivel and wither and eventually die. Now I remember my friend's face as he spat out those words. There was hate there in his eyes. Hate and fanaticism and cruelty and lust.

There was greed for power. There was everything a human should be frightened of. But I did not see it. Perhaps it was dark that night. Perhaps the beer blurred my vision. Perhaps it was because this fastika was then only a hooket cross in a red field.

The fear was then only a politician who spoke very loudly and made us feel that we should conquer the world through bluff and bluster. So I returned to my home and hung up my uniform of the baker's guild and went about baking the lightest fahnkuchen in all Munich. Stumkopf, shank!

How many times have I told you you do not pull the trays out yet? I'm sorry, master. I did not mean to be so careless. He did not mean to be so careless. For an excuse like that, an apprentice receives a reward like this. Now, perhaps you will remember the exact moment one pulls the trays out from the oven. Now, perhaps... And who dares to open the door without my permission? Who dares...

Immediately. What kind of talk is this? What do you mean by... Pick him up. Take the boy too. He has seen. This is the baker here, doctor. Heil Hitler. Ja, Sieg Heil. The physical characteristics are as described. No sick. I hope we will try.

His ancestry has, of course, been thoroughly checked. Five generations here in Munich. Aryan to the last drop of blood. Yeah, good. Now, tell me, Dekker, are you prepared to shed a few drops of your pure Aryan blood in the course of the Third Reich? I may. It is permitted that I speak. To answer questions, yeah. But have I been brought here? My family... Your family is safe.

For the moment. They are in protective custody. But why? Take him away. They are ready for him in the operating room. The operating room.

The many surgeons, ah, they examined me. The measurements of my face, then the anesthetic, the operation. Weeks, many weeks in the room, never being spoken to. Strapped to the bed, my face a hideous torment, burning, itching, hurting, then...

That day. And now, we shall see the results of your surgery. I pray I have been successful. If you have, your work is over. Mine begins. We have come to remove the bandages. It will not be painful. Thank you. So, we begin. Then we are finished.

We shall have a surprise for you. Eh, Herr Doktor? -Pasible, your work. -Of course. My apologies. There. Now, to remove this last bandage. So. Yeah, incredible. This work I shall enjoy. Well, Eko, are you not curious? -I... I do not know what to say. -Good.

Continue so and you will prosper. With such a face, how can you help but prosper? Such a face? Yeah. Here, take a smell. Now, look at yourself. Oh, no. I must die. He has fainted from the shock. Yeah. Understandable. Would not you faint if you awakened and found you had the face of Adolf Hitler? No.

The face of Adolf Hitler. My face. What a fantastic thing. My reason tarted. I was certain I'd gone mad. Then the little Herr Doktor, he of the club foot, came again to my room. With him was the plain man I was to learn to fear.

The one with the thin mouth and the nose glasses.

You are to be given the most glorious opportunity. The opportunity of laying down your life for your Fuhrer. My men of the Gestapo and Schutztapfel will of course give you every protection. Needless to say, you'll be watched at all times. You will do nothing unless ordered. Is that clear? I understand. To your person, the Fuhrer will be spared many taxing moments. His person will be reserved for only the most important activities. And now, your course of instruction will begin.

Head erect. Shoulders back. Left hand looped on the belt. Yeah, yeah. Better. Now, now the eyes flash. The head is thrown back. The right arm upraised in salute. Stiffly. Heil Hitler.

Heil Hitler. No, no, no, no. Not like everything. Like a liar. Again. But, Herr Doktor, I cannot much, so I try. Yeah, enough. Take him back into the room with the recording equipment for the rest of the day. We have been lied to and betrayed by the Middle East, the Communists, and the Jews.

England has grown fat off the meat of our bones. Russia lies waiting to pick those bones. And the Jews, like the jackals they are, stand ready to eat their bait. Germans arise!

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

That was how I was spared. There were others with faces like mine who could do the speaking on occasion. I learned of them quite by accident. And I kept the knowledge to myself. At first I was afraid. And then I was no longer fearful. People looked at me and cheered.

People looked at me and trembled. There were even those who knew I was not what I seemed to be, but they were respectful. After all, one does not know what will happen. Yes, I liked it. I felt the power, the glory of leadership.

Glorious needle, the youth of Germany welcomes you. In your thoughts we find our inspiration. In your deeds we find our ambition. In your hopes we find... We are you and you are Germany. Had it? Yes, one must live to fear a prince if to appreciate it. I thought of nothing else. Now I wore my uniform more and more, even as he did.

I resented having only the one uniform. I wished he would wear many, like the fat one did. I learned much of what transpired in the party, too. The hatreds, the jealousies. But one thing above all others I learned, that to conquer the world, one must follow blindly. You will leave at once for Munich. At once. He is there. He is not well. The cares will stay to a heavily on him.

Various diplomats are expected. You will be seen in his study while he is resting. You will also abstain from any other activities. As you command, sir. In the event you do not completely understand me, may I point out that the various ways in which you entertain yourself are known to us. Yeah, I mind here. That is all. Save one thing. Your situation is one from which there is no resigning. Also, if you are found wanting, there will be no others to meet.

Munich, the Brenner Pass, Berchtesgaden, always with honor, with respect. Tachau, Belsen, Nordhausen, Gardelegen, the concentration camps.

How the gods outdid themselves to entertain me. And how the inferior race, when the political prisoners trembled as word passed through that I was there. The power and the glory of my... Then, the blood purge of June 1934. I was fearful at first, but it was soon over.

And I was safe again. I was more powerful than ever. Then, then, Transnistria in 1938. And so, the pulse we would show them. In 1939, Czechoslovakia. A few days later, Lithuania. Then, Poland.

And the war went on. And it was good. Always good. Man is intended to battle. And the German is destined to rule. Germany must have Lebensraum. And the Lebensraum she must have is the whole world. France has capitulated. And Marshal Verdun has agreed to terms our surrender. The Fuhrer is now on his way to Paris.

He danced a jig when France fell. He danced a jig after I had gone forward to try out the surroundings. But I had no fear. There was no one who could stand up to us. No one could question our minds.

Something happened. The astrologers and the mystics came more often to the Reich's chancery. He spent more and more time with them and less and less time with the staff of the high command.

The Russian campaign. He promised it would be a great adventure. It was no adventure. Japan struck at America. The Americanish of fools declared war. And since a fat-bellied one proved a liar, he had promised us his Luftwaffe would drive from the skies anyone who dared rise up against it. He lied. I was near Hamburg.

Come, sir. We must evacuate at once. The celebration that was planned, it is cancelled. The Wehrmacht has made a strategic retreat on the Russian front. Our forces have fallen back in good order, and the high command has prepared a trap that will ensnare the recklessly advancing Soviets. For the national security, great restrictions will be made on the home front. All citizens of the Reich will register with the proper authorities at once.

Today, I knew it was the end. The Russians were at the very gates of Berlin. The Americans and the British were in disguise over Berlin. And I was in Berlin.

The secret sub-basement of the Reich's Chancellery is him, the little club-footed man. The Herr Doctor had just announced over the radio that he would fight with the citizens of Berlin to the end. Now I hated him. He had betrayed us. He had promised us the world and had led us into this hell.

Then I heard them talking. I heard them... You have your orders? I understand. He will leave by plane. The other one will die here. But I did not want to die. I wanted to live. I had done nothing wrong. He had betrayed us all.

He had promised us victory. You cannot kill me, my wife, my children. I will go back to Munich, my bakery. You cannot do... I must think, plan. They will come back, the Russians. They will think I am him. They will come.

This one. We dug him out of the sub-basement of the Reichs-Chancellor, Tavares doctor. A good Nazi party member, no doubt. What is left of him, his face you see gone completely. No identification. Fingerprints were checked. He's no one. False. Very weak. Will he live? Who knows? Tell me, doctor, if such a one survives, is there a possibility for plastic surgery? Possibly. Let me see.

My guess, brown hair, weak mouth, pronounced nose. Typical Aryan, eh? Is it your guess they will make him a new face, Doctor? I rather think no. Be young. Them the world can repair. Their faces, their minds, their hearts, their souls. For them, there is hope in the brotherhood of man. For this one and the others like him...

♪♪

You have been listening to The Man Without a Face. Written, directed, and produced by Les Weinroth. Five after the hour, originated in the studios of WBBM, the Wrigley Building, Chicago. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. ♪♪

Another five-minute mystery.

THE END

At the toll gate to the great new cross-country speedway, a sporty red convertible pauses. How much, bud? Buck fifty to the next gate. Hey, what's the trouble with your friend there in the back seat all bandaged up that way? Accident. Oh, that's too bad. Well, good luck. Hey, take it easy about two miles ahead. Repairs. Okay, I'll watch it. The convertible travels fast. Two miles farther on, they round a slight curve. The temporary fences around the road repair work loom close ahead.

There is a sudden shout from a man at the side of the highway. Hey, look out! Joe, did you see that? One of them guys fell out of the back seat. Let's get over there, quick!

So, Mr. Bryant, you say you weren't aware of the construction signs? Not until I was right on top of them, Sheriff. Ask Al here. He was in the back seat with Johnny. Did we see him, Al? Didn't the toll gate keeper warn you about that spot? Well, the signs are moved for just a couple of minutes, Sheriff. Brad and I was out there to warn the cars to slow down. This guy came along so fast, though, we didn't get a chance. You realize, of course, Mr. Bryant, that this is a very serious matter. The third person in your car, John Albertson...

was killed instantly when he fell from the back seat. The toll gatekeeper reports that he was already the victim of an accident, was bound up in bandages. I know, Sheriff. I shouldn't have driven so fast. I don't know what to say. Well, let's hear your story, Joe. Andrew, this way, Sheriff.

Brad and I were standing alongside the highway, like I said, and all of a sudden this red convertible comes racing along doing, oh, at least 85 around the curve. I see. Go on. Well, the two guys in the back seat, this big man Al here and the other guy, they were sitting there with their heads down. When the brakes went on, they raised up.

John, the bandaged one, fell out the back. He must have lost his grip, I guess. He just flew right out the back when the car stopped. He flew out the back, eh? Sheriff, can we go now? I'll come back later if you want, but I feel pretty bad about this. I think I could use some rest. Rest?

Sure, Mr. Bryant, you'll get plenty of rest right here in the county jail. I'm holding you for the murder of John Albertson. What reason did the sheriff have for believing that John Albertson was murdered? In just a moment, we'll find out. But first...

THE END

♪♪

And now, back to our five-minute mystery and the murder of John Albertson. Murder? What are you talking about, Sheriff? There wasn't any murder. It was murder, all right. And you and Al here collaborated on it. You see, Bryant, when a moving vehicle stops suddenly, the passengers in it are thrown forward, not backward. If Albertson lost his grip, he would have been thrown into the front seat, not back onto the highway.

You're having him all bandaged up like that just made it easier for Al to throw him out. You see, Bryant, this time it was natural law that threw you into the hands of social law. Say, that's not a bad line.

♪♪

Be tuned now for adventure and excitement in the world of the future. Entertainment for the entire... Right here in Kalamazoo. Join us now for a voyage into another dimension. A journey into a realm as infinite and limitless as time itself. A destination...

The farthest reaches of the imagination. WMUK Special Projects presents Future Chains. The Defenders, based on a story by Philip Dick. And now we bring you a special film on the destruction of San Francisco by radioactive pellets released this week by robots of the Asian Confederations.

This bombing was televised by robot cameramen of the Western Confederation as it took place. What you are about to see is a rebroadcast. Here you see the heroic robots, the Levies, who defended San Francisco. Of course, it's all human.

has been under the surface of the earth for 16 years, there was no actual loss of life ever since we know it. Still, the vicious destruction of western lettuce by this sneaky

The surface war, the surface war, that's all we hear. That's all everybody works for. 90 cents out of every dollar goes for the surface war. Every man, woman, and child either inventing new weapons or manufacturing robots to fight for us or taking care of the people who are doing the inventing or manufacturing... Mary, Mary, take it easy. I'm sorry, Dad. Maybe you've been working too hard at the university. Maybe. How's the study coming? All right.

Colonel Morris was asking about it today over at Supreme Headquarters. I'm still working. Mary, you haven't mentioned the enemy much. What's there to say? Well, is he as hateful as ever? He hasn't been feeling well. Well, it's a pity. I hope he doesn't die. After all, he's the only living captive member of the Asian Confederations.

How old is he, by the way? Thirty-four. Oh, you're joking, of course. No. Well, Mary, Western society only moved under the surface of Earth. Oh. Now, that would mean that the enemy was captured when he was only a boy. Yes.

He told you this? Oh, no. He tells everyone he's 42. I deduced it from inconsistencies in his statement. Now, that's a little dangerous, isn't it? You're the only one I've told, Dad. Well, I wish you wouldn't even tell me these things. Do you expect your friend, Colonel Morris, to pop out from under the bed? Now you're being facetious. Now, this is no laughing matter, Mary. The whole concept of the enemy is so charged emotionally... And so full of lies. Mary! It's true. Mary!

I've been talking to him for six months now. He's just an ordinary young man who happens to have had the bad luck to come to symbolize every hated thing we fight against. I've heard him speak. He is hateful. He knows what to say if he wants to keep alive. Mary, I don't want to hear any more of this. I'm sorry, Dad. I suppose it doesn't serve any useful purpose. Well, it isn't that. I'm thinking of your own safety.

If remarks like this were overheard... Do you know what they do to traitors? I've heard they turn them over to the ladies. They are taken up to the surface. As they approach it, the radioactivity begins to destroy them. By the time they reach the top... I'll be careful. Good. Now then, why don't we stop this morbid talk? All right. Dad? Yes? What was it like? What? On the surface. Why, don't you remember? Uh-uh.

Oh, no, of course not. You were only about six at the time. Well, it's best not to talk about it too much. Tell me, Dad, please. Well, it was quite different from living underground. We lived in a valley, your mother and you and I. There were pretty farms along the floor of the valley, little white houses.

Green fields and trees. Oh, and there were birds. Yes, I'm afraid the birds are extinct now. It must have been hard for you, those first years underground. Well, it wasn't pleasant. But I had my work at the War Institute. There was so much to be done there. Building the leadies to take over the surface war. Designing the pneumatic tubes to get supplies and weapons up to the robots. Organizing the robot consoles on the surface.

And, of course, the constant fight against radiation leakage. And they're still working on that one. I wonder what my life would have been like if it hadn't happened. About all I know is metal walls and great roaring factories and barracks. Well, nobody wants to live this way, mind you. We have to. Someday, when their enemy is defeated... What makes you think you'll be defeated? The Asians are just as secure underground as we are. When our ladies conquer their... Dad...

What is it? Dad, the enemy. The one I've been interviewing. I thought we weren't discussing him. He mentioned a word to me. A word? Yes. It seems to me that I've heard it before. When I was a little girl. It's best to forget those things. No, no. I don't know what it means. But I have to ask you. I'd rather you didn't. Please. Well... The word is peace. Oh, Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you. I...

I think I'll go up to my room. I have to get up early. I'm taping an interview with the enemy. Excuse me. Get me the director of internal security. Yes. Morris, this is Donald Taylor. Yes, Donald. It's about my daughter. Mary? Yes. She's been working with the enemy, as you know, compiling a new study.

I'm afraid from some of the things he's told her that he may not be completely, well, completely sane. Oh? I thought perhaps you might, well, supervise their relationship a little more. After all, she's been spending almost six months in his company, several hours a day. I see what you mean. Now, I don't mean to suggest that anything has happened already. Her attitude... Don't concern yourself about it.

Everything will be handled discreetly.

The enemy is waiting inside, Miss Taylor. Good. Is the recording equipment ready to go? All checked and ready. You check the restraint suit on the prisoner? Yes, Miss. You may leave us alone. Buzz me when you want me, Miss Taylor. I will. Thank you, guard. Hello, hateful one. Hello, beloved. How are you? Feeling no pain? I thought about you last night. I talked to Father. Be careful. It's all right. This can't go on, Mary.

Sooner or later, someone will suspect. I don't care. I love you. Mary, we'd better get something on tape. If anyone comes in... All right, all right. Tape number 425X. Subject, recorded interview with captive ZN2, former soldier of the Asian Confederation and enemy of the Western Confederation. I'm Joseph Culley. Serial number ZN2.

Former soldier of the Asian Confederation. What were you taught to believe concerning the people of the Western Confederation? I hate them with all my heart. They are inhuman and to be destroyed. What is your objective? It is the objective of my people to enslave all members of the Western Confederation and to utilize them for the benefit of the masters of the Asian Confederation. Did you ever witness any murders of members of the Western Confederation? I was a pilot.

in a group which dropped radioactive dust on women and children who were preparing to be evacuated underground. I myself killed some 15,000. We will discontinue the interview to check the quality of the recordings. And to kiss the lips of the captive from the Asian Confederation. Oh, Joseph, I can't tell you how it pains me to hear you mouthing stuff.

It keeps me alive. There were only some way to escape, some place to go. The surface is the only place to go. And the radioactivity killed you in 40 minutes with the thickest lead suit. Sometimes I think even 40 minutes of freedom would be worth it. 40 minutes of pain? If that's the price, then I... For myself, I would not care. But for you, Mary... If only there were a way to reach the surface...

There is a way. Colonel Morris. This has been, I must say, a most interesting interview. Oh, you heard it? From the beginning. We had the room wired this morning. Then you know. Yes. What's going to happen to us? To you, nothing. Because of my friendship with your father and your own youth, we will simply require that you remain silent about what has happened. And Joseph? The enemy will be handed over to a D-class levy at the mouth of the tube and taken to the surface.

We will perform the entire operation with the ceremony and public announcement. We have died. Precise, sir. No, please. Now, you'd better go. Your father is waiting outside. Joseph. Mary, do as he says. Joseph, I love you. Take her out. Please let me stay. Let me say goodbye to him. Remove her. Joseph, please. Please let me stay. Father. Father.

Yes? Did you talk to Colonel Morris? Yes. And? He has permitted you to come along and watch the ceremony, provided there's no display of any sort. And, of course, a public denouncement of the whole matter. He's prepared a statement to the effect that the enemy tried to dupe you, that he used hypnosis. Well? I'll sign it. The ceremony is at the foot of the tube. Tomorrow morning at six.

At that hour, the enemy will be handed over to a D-class lady, which is being brought down from the surface. Remember your promise. Prisoner is ready to be turned over, sir. Is the robot here? The robot is landed at the foot of the tube, sir. Robot, can you hear me? Yes, sir.

We have a prisoner to turn over. He is to be taken to the surface and destroyed. Before we send him into the radiation lock, there are a few questions that the military would like to have answered. How is the war going on the surface? The war continues. We are a little short of fast pursuit craft. The single-seat power missiles pounded the Euro-9 with good results. Excellent. Are you ready to receive the prisoner?

I must warn all observers to remain behind the lead wall when the radiation lock opens. Open the lock. Step into the lock, prisoner. He's in with the lead. You can almost feel the radiation.

By now, he's as good as dead. Close the lock. No, no way, Joseph. Come here. Come back. Hold the door. She'll be burned to death. Don't go out there. The lady is pushing her. Mary. Close the lock. Sergeant, get a technician in a radiation suit to pick her up. Have her shielded and brought to the decontamination chamber. Oh, my daughter. You'd better get into a lead suit, Donald. We'll see what we can do to save her. How is she?

Bad? I don't understand it. What's wrong? She's cold. Not a trace of radiation. You mean the lady wasn't radioactive? It's impossible. Those robots are exposed to enough radiation in an hour to kill a regiment. Well, could the counter be defected? I checked it. No, it must be some freak. Somehow she avoided exposure to the rays. Well, you're a very lucky man, Professor.

I'm going to send an order to the surface asking that the same lady be sent down again. There's something very strange about the whole business. Father. Mary! Mary!

What are you doing here? In a radiation suit? This is the same Lettie, isn't it? Yes, I was just going to examine. I want to examine it with you. Why? This is the Lettie that took Joseph up. I want to speak to it and find out. Now, Mary, why torture yourself? There's more torture this way. I have to know if he's alive or dead. I have to know. He's dead. The Lettie will know. Please, Father, please. Very well. Open the lock, guards. Ready, Mary? Ready.

Ready. Let's go in. Your robot, N71, the same who escorted the prisoner to service this morning? Is he... He is dead. Oh, no. Steady, Mary. Steady.

Robot, you accompanied him to the surface. You've been exposed. Then explain something. According to a counter I have concealed in my suit, you're cold. Not a trace of radioactivity. Now, how do you explain this? Well, answer me. That's an order. The surface. Not until you answer me. Dad, he has a ray gun. Look out. Keep back.

I shorted him with a metal counter. He'll be burned out in a second. That was close. I thought these robots were unable to harm their masters. Well, he might have been bluffing, but I couldn't take the chance. Why do you suppose he did it? I don't know. But I'm beginning to suspect something so fantastic that I've got to find out about it. Find out? Leave the tube, Mary. What are you going to do? I'm going to the surface. What?

My suit will protect me for about five minutes up there. No one has been up to the service for years. It's illegal. I know all about that. Now, will you leave the two? No. I'm going with you. Mary, please. If you go, I go with you. All right. All right.

It's unbelievable.

I can't believe it. I can't. It's a laddie. Do as he says. He's armed. Chairman of the surface council. What's this all about? Where's the war? The ruin? What's happened here? Can't you guess? The war? There is no war. There hasn't been any war for 50 years. No war? But the guns, the munitions. We have

And the Asians? What about those films of the destruction of San Francisco? The bombings? The slaughter? Models? We have a full-time division of A-class robots who do nothing but photograph the progress of the fictitious war using scale models.

The entire destruction of San Francisco, which you witnessed on your televisors, took place on a tabletop. How did this come about? Quite logically, you created us to pursue the war for you, while you human beings went to the low ground to survive. But before we could continue the war, it was necessary to analyze it, to determine its purpose. We did this. And? We found it had no purpose.

War to the logical mind is absurd, but it fulfills a need in human terms. The need to direct your hatred of yourselves away from you and onto others. Eventually, man will grow up enough so that he can face his own dislike of himself with humility. The time has almost come, as a matter of fact. Until it does come, we decided to preserve the illusion of war. Meanwhile, we rebuilt the cities

replanted the farms, and kept everything in readiness. We are the caretakers. What... what will happen to my daughter and myself? You will remain on the surface with the others. Others? There is a small group of members of the Asian Confederation which came to the surface only a few months ago. They are farming a valley not far from here. By the way, you may remove your radiation suit. There is no radiation. You said the others...

Does that mean that the prisoner, the one who... He is alive. Father, he's alive. Where is he? In a farmhouse here. Would you take me to him? Can I see him? Of course. Wait. There's another car rising in the tube. Stand aside. Just remain where you are. Sergeant, take this lady into custody. Yes, sir. Well, Professor, this is quite a sight.

How did you happen to come here? The guard told us you had surfaced. We found the shorted robot where you left it, and we discovered it was cold, so we decided we'd better investigate. Good Lord. What a shock this is. Oh, a blessing, Colonel. Not a shock. Do the Asians know about this? A few of them have surfaced, but the underground civilization is still ignorant of it.

They think the war is going on just as our people do. You know what this means, don't you? It means the end of the war. It means peace. It means victory, Professor. It means we can mount a full-scale attack. We can drop hydrogen fission bombs right down their tubes. We can wipe out the whole race. No, but there's no need. There's no war. There will be. There will be. I'm returning underground to report this to Supreme Headquarters.

You'll have to accompany me for security purposes. Since when does a robot give orders to a human? We were constructed to do. In this case, we will protect you from yourselves. Stand aside. We're going to the tube. I will be happy to stand aside, but you will not be able to descend. No? Well, we'll just see. Father, what is this? What happened? Look! Good Lord!

They've destroyed the tube or sealed off. Exactly. We have always had heat bombs in readiness for just such an emergency. Lead and rock are fused for a depth of some ten miles. It will be years before your people can reconstruct the tube. I don't believe it. It makes no difference to us whether you believe it or not. Men, destroy this robot. There are many more. Destroy him.

Look, down the road, humans, a bunch of humans coming toward us. Why, they're waving. Those are Asians. Joseph!

Joseph! Father, Joseph's with them! Ready your arms, men! As soon as they're close enough, I'll give the signal to fire. Colonel, in heaven's name, they aren't even armed. They're the enemy. Our only hope for survival is to join with them. We'll need food and shelter. If we destroy them... The professor's right, Colonel. We're cut off from our own people. Sergeant, another word and I'll have you court-martialed. Now...

Ready your weapon, men. Don't do it. Our only hope now is peace. Silence. I've got to warn them. Go back. Go back. All right, Professor. You asked for it. Now. Father. Is he? Colonel Morris is dead. Thank you, Sergeant. You've saved not only my life, but many others. I couldn't see any other way, Professor. We've got to live, too. Father. Father.

Yes, Mary? Does this mean that we can have peace? If we want it, Mary. If we really want it, we can have it. WMUK Special Projects has presented The Defenders...

Based on a story by Philip Dick and adapted for radio by George Lepperts. Our cast included Peg Small as Mary, Mark Spink as her father, Tom Small as Colonel Morris, John Scott as Joseph, Dick Atwell as Robot A-5, Eric Grandstaff as the D-Class Letty, and John Provancha as the sergeant. Future Tense is produced and directed by Ellie Siegel.

If you are enjoying these Future Tense programs and would like to hear more drama on WMUK, please let us know. Address your comments as well as suggestions for future programs to Future Tense, WMUK, Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo, Michigan. The zip code is 49001. This is Gerard McLeod inviting you and your entire family to join us every Monday through Thursday at this same time for Future Tense.

Be sure to listen. Now in cooperation with police and federal law enforcement departments throughout the United States, the only national program that brings you authentic police case history, Gangbusters.

Tonight, the case of the safe-cracking combine whose leader ruled the gang by brute force but who couldn't subdue a trouser cuff nor a washed-out blot. And now to gangbusters and facts that show the operation of our law enforcement officials in their war against the underworld. Gangbusters has asked Jack Carville, Chief of Detectives, Detroit, Michigan Police Department, to narrate by proxy tonight's case.

The inside facts in the case of the safe-cracking combine. Chief Harville, a few minutes ago, you told me that one of the biggest problems of police is organized crime. That's exactly so, Don Gardner. When criminals band together for the purpose of large-scale operations, the job of the police becomes so much harder. You'll see what I mean in tonight's gangbusters case. About two years ago, in the city of Detroit, we had numerous complaints of safe burglaries on the west and north sides of the city.

Despite efforts of dozens of detectives, we weren't making too much progress in the investigation, partly because of an event which took place in a certain house on the north side one night. In the kitchen of that house, a short but powerfully built man sat playing solitaire. As the door to the living room opened and another man approached, he looked up from the cards.

Hmm. Well? Okay, Batch. He's here. Hmm. Comfortable, Steve? How comfortable can he get? Hmm. And we let him squirm a while. Oh, come on, Batch. Let's get it over with, huh? Let him squirm. Look, I promised to take Effie to a party tonight. She's going to have...

Yeah, the red jacket goes on the queen there. I see it. If his cousin's got a birthday. So what do you want me to do, Steve? Give a present? Come on, Batch. Let's get it over with. Well... I guess corny Mike squirmed enough, huh? Yeah, yeah. Let's go. Tell him, Batch. Tell him good. Don't worry. I will. Hello, Mike. Glad you could make it.

What goes, Batch? This won't take long. I got a few things on my mind. I come to do some talking myself. First, you listen. Look, Batch, what's the idea of getting me down here? You said you'll listen, Mike, so you'll listen. Steve, I thought we made a bargain, Mike.

I thought there wasn't going to be another safe job on the north or west side without my say-so. What are you talking about? What do you think, Mike? You broke into that joint without his say-so. What are you, a cop? Can you prove it? What I said goes. No more safe jobs around here without my okay. Let go. You want to settle it right here, Mike? Batchit, when he asked, you want to settle it right here. Listen, Batchit, let go. Please. I'm listening. Okay, I did that job.

Me and the shallop brothers. You can have your 20%. I'll pay it off right now. Right now. We're going to collect more than 20%. Steve. I'll pay it off. I'll pay it. Okay. But I'm warning all of you, Mike. This outfit operates the way I say. No safe jobs without my okay. If anybody thinks they can get away with tricks, I'll come down and beat their head to paste. Personal. All right. Get out of here.

Yo, let me say get out. Go on. Okay. I'm going. Steve. Hmm? Let's stop and get something to eat. Waffles, maybe? For crying out loud, Effie. Didn't you have enough to eat at the party? I'm hungry again. Well, it's late. Please? Where do you want to go? How about the top hat? It's not far. Okay. Steve? Huh?

You were telling me about Batch. Now, look, Eppie, I'm telling you again. I told you all I could tell you. Oh, okay.

Batch is getting to be a pretty big shot, huh? Yeah, she said it. Biggest this town's ever seen. I don't know. I've seen bigger. Yeah, well, show me a guy's ever organized things the way he has. Nobody even cracks a safe without his say-so. You mean even Corny Mike said he'd go along with Batch? He'd let Batch be the boss? I don't believe it. Corny Mike ain't so tough, not if you know how to handle him. There's gonna be some dough in this deal, too. Yeah, for Batch. Yeah, I'll get my share. Maybe. If Batch can handle Corny Mike and the rest. Don't you worry about Batch. He's slick with them guys, and he's tough. They're scared to death of him. He'll get his, don't you worry.

Must be some operator, all right. Yeah, yeah. You think... Look, Abby, forget I told you anything about what was going on. Oh, don't worry about me, Steve. I wouldn't say a word, not to nobody. That's a smart kid. Don't you worry, baby. You'll get taken care of. Anything you want. Just ask. Just ask and you'll get it. Thanks, Steve. I knew I could depend on you. And that. I'm telling you, Inspector Marv, these safe robberies have got to stop. Twenty-three safe robberies in six weeks. It's

Ridiculous. I can assure you, Mr. Edwards, we're doing everything we possibly can. Apparently, it's not enough, Inspector. And as a representative of the Northside Merchants Association, I feel... Mr. Edwards, would you be surprised if I told you we think we know the men responsible for those burglaries? You do? I said we think we do. There are ten or twelve men involved, we're sure of that. We've had some of them down here for questioning on occasion. But those men should be in the penitentiary. Mr. Edwards...

I could be dead sure they're the ones, but my being sure is not enough. In order to convict a man of burglary, we either have to catch him in the act or find some of the stolen property in his possession or have a confession. And none of these men are confessing to anything. Well, then why don't you arrest these men now? They're bound to have the money on them from that robbery last night. Mr. Edwards, if these men broke into your furniture store and took some cash from your safe, could you pick out your own bills or coins and swear that they were yours?

Well, neither could any other victim. When only cash is taken and the burglars are careful to leave no fingerprints or other evidence at the scene of the crime, a burglary conviction is almost impossible. Well, I suppose you have a pretty difficult job. We have, Mr. Edwards. Well, thanks a lot, Inspector. All right. Excuse me. Yes? Detective Lefeu, Inspector. Can I see you? Come right in, Lefeu. Mr. Edwards is just leaving. Yes, sir.

I hope you understand our problems a little better, Mr. Redwood. I think I do. Well, do you know where to reach me? Goodbye. Excuse me. Come in, Lefeu. Well, Inspector, we had men in back of Corny Mike all last night. Didn't make a move out of his house. How about the Schaller brothers? Lost them in traffic. It could have been them. Or even Batch. We didn't have him under surveillance either. All right, Lefeu.

Stick with as many of them as you can. The only way we'll get these boys is to catch some of them in the act. Then maybe we'll get a statement involving the others. Hello? Let me talk to Batch. Just a minute, I'll get him. He's in the kitchen with a friend of his. Hey, who is this, Effie? No, it is not Effie. Oh. Okay, hold the phone. I'll see if he'll talk.

That's the way it's going to be, Mike. If you don't like... What? Telephone. What do they want? It's for you. Pistol. I'll be right back, Mike. Take your time. Steve, stay here with Mike. It's a dame, Betch. So it's a dame. I'll be right back.

Hello. Hello, Batch. Effie. I'm busy. I just wanted to tell you Steve... Now, look here, Effie. I'm tired of this monkey business. Stop bothering me, will you? Batch, I just want to be friends. Be friends with Steve. That's enough. Leave me alone. Batch, you and me could really... I got no time to talk about it. Dumb twist. Mess things up. So you and Batch know what you're gonna... Well, Mike, you gonna get through with it?

Look, Batch. Batch, that was Effie on the phone. You're crazy. It was. I know her voice. You mean you think you do. It wasn't Effie. Okay, it wasn't Effie. Well, Mike, we can get in the safe all right. We can get the dough. We can get out all right. Good. I'm glad to hear it. But this whole thing was my idea. I found a joint. I cased it. I worked out the angles. So? So I don't feel you're entitled any 20%.

Don't you? Batch said he wants 20%. Not for sitting on a throne like a king he don't get no 20%. I don't figure on sitting on a throne like a king. This time, Steve and I are going along. So, Don, the criminal Stanley Graylack, known as Batch, and his henchmen, Mike Cornichuk and Steve Constantine, conspire to stage still another safe burglary on Detroit's north side.

but they had no idea of how close detectives under Inspector James Marr were to the evidence they sought. Now back to gangbusters. You were telling us, Chief Harville, how the gang of safecrackers under the direction of Stanley Grelak, alias Batch, had planned still another safe burglary on the north side of Detroit. That's right, Don. They knew the doors and windows of the furniture store they intended to loot were protected by a burglar alarm. They also knew the occupants of an apartment on the second floor of the building were out of town.

After the criminals gained entrance to this residence by picking a lock, they cut a hole in the floor leading to the private office of the owner of the furniture store. After nearly two hours of quiet work, they were about ready to scramble through the opening and crack the safe. Okay. Okay. That's got it. Yeah, right. Plaster. Mike. Yeah? Get the ladder. Hey, fellas. Ladder.

Watch it. Watch it. Okay. Easy now. Easy. Okay. That's got it. Go on, Steve. You first. Right. If that safe is as tough as cutting a hole, this is going to be an all-night job. Go on. Get down there. Okay. Okay. I'm getting. I'm getting. Hey. Nice office. Nice office. Nice office.

Awful pretty. Hey, how'd you like a fountain pen, boss? Hey, those lay there. Okay, okay. Get picked up with one of them on you. We're all in trouble. No, no, no, I get it. Mike. Yeah? Bring the stuff. All right. Bring the stuff, fellas. Okay. Take a look around the main office. Yeah, yeah. Watch yourself. Hey, your store's locked. Let me see that thing. Yeah, the snap lock. Oh, yeah, yeah. Open it up. Yeah, sure.

Good. They can't see nothing from the street. And there's the safe. Mike, you coming? Can't do it without me. Let's go. Now watch it in here. There's a trap wire in front of the safe. Careful, Steve. Trap wire. Trap wire, yeah, I'm careful. It's around someplace.

Okay, he's seeing over there. Yeah, yeah, there it is. You walk right into it. Okay, we don't have time for fights back in the office. Come on. Inside, inside. The door, the door. Is it locked? Yeah. Let's get out of here. Up the ladder, come on. Up the ladder. Hold it. Stay away from that ladder. What for? They'll never show. Yeah, and they'll never as quick around the street if we get out.

We stay right here. Oh, no. We stay right here. The doors and windows are all okay. They won't see nothing. We might get away with it. All right, Patch. You got a customer. All right, Patch, but keep your fingers crossed, boys.

The view. Hello, Inspector Mark. I was in the neighborhood and heard the call. Doesn't look like there's much to it, Inspector. No. Two squad cars were here within a minute after the call came over. They looked around. None of the doors or windows were touched. It's probably short in the system. Get a look inside. We're going to. The owner's opening up now. Just got here. Good. Oh, by the way, this is the furniture store your friend Mr. Edwards owns. Oh, so it is.

Hello there, Mr. Edwards. Oh, hello, Inspector. Is there a chance somebody might be inside? There's a chance. I'll open up. Are there patrolmen all around the building with you? It's covered. I hope it's a false alarm. There's a step there watching the dark. Yeah, I see. Now, where's the safe? That's what they'd be after. Back there in the office. The nightlight's on back there. Oh, yes. We always have a nightlight. Insurance company rules, you know. I know.

Nothing looks disturbed. Ah, the safe hasn't... Uh-oh. The trap wire is down. Yeah. It might have fallen down. It doesn't take much. What's in here, Mr. Edwards? Oh, this is my private office. I keep it locked. Oh, I see. Would you mind opening it up? I'd like to look around. Yes, yes, of course. I think I have a key. Yes. Here it is. Inspector Barnes. Yes? I think I found your burglar. Come in. What'd you find, Lefeu? Oh.

Could this be your guilty party? She certainly could. You mean the cats could set off the trap on you? Easily. All it takes is the slightest touch, contact's made, and that's it. It's one of the cat hasn't given you this kind of trouble before, Mr. Edwards. Well, we only just got the cat yesterday. I'm beginning to have trouble with mice, you know. You'll take my advice, Mr. Edwards. Either get a new system for catching mice or a new system for protecting your safety.

Otherwise, you'll be down here two or three times a week answering that burglar alarm. I suppose we'll try mousetraps. Run along, kitten. You've caused enough trouble for one night. Come on, Hugh. Let's go. Right. Good night, Mr. Edwards. Just a second. I'm coming, too. Oh, believe me, Batch, I never want another one like that. Boy, that was as close as I ever wanted. We got away, didn't we? Did we? Boy, I can't believe it yet. Now look, Steve.

The same thing I told Mike and the other boys goes for you. As soon as you get home, take those clothes and wash them out good. But, Batch, these pants are wool. They shrink up to my knees. Then get rid of them altogether. Burn them. What are you worried about? I'm worried about one of us getting picked up. Cutting through all that plaster was more of a mess than I counted on. So I brush off the pants. You will wash them or burn them like I said.

The cops decide to pick you up. That plaster will put you inside the front of your store for sure. Okay, okay, whatever you say. Look, how about I stop him for a drink, huh? I could use one right now. I got no time. What's one drink? I said I got no time. I gotta meet somebody and I'm late. Oh, yeah? Who? Somebody you don't know. Oh, somebody I don't know. Okay. Go on home and get some sleep. You're needed.

Morning, Steve. Where you been, Effie? All night. Didn't expect you'd be up yet. Who went to sleep? Where you been, huh? I tried calling every place, so I come to wait for you. Why? Why do you think? I want to talk to you, that's why. Well, I knew you'd be busy on the job practically all night. I stayed at my cousin's. Ha. What does that mean, ha? Ha. Okay.

Batch tell you what happened in the job? Batch, I didn't see Batch. No, you saw your cousin. Now, Effie, I swear, if I ever catch you with another guy, I'm going to kick your pussy. You'll never catch me. Were you with Batch or was you? I wasn't. Tell me the truth, will you? Don't. Will you? Don't. Will you? No, no, I... Good thing you weren't. I was at my cousin's. You can call her. Don't worry, I will. Haven't even seen Batch. You talked to him on the phone, didn't you? Me? Yeah, you. The other night when I answered, didn't you?

No, that wasn't me, I swear. Chances are he'll get the plaster out of my clothes and then he runs around with you. Who's that? I don't know. Yeah? Well, I know. Steve! Now, look here, bitch. Hello, Steve. Going someplace? Yeah. Yeah, policeman. I guess I am. You bet you are. For a ride downtown. Okay, back inside. All right, okay. Just take it easy.

I don't know, Batch. Maybe they're getting close. Don't worry about it, Mike. Steve will be out in an hour. Finish your drink. Uh-uh. You got company.

Hello, Batch. Get out of here, Fee. Hello, Fee. They picked Steve up. So what do you want me to do? I just come to tip you off. Why are you acting like this is the first time he was ever questioned? Here we are in a couple of hours. They got nothing to hold him on. What's the matter, Batch? Why can't we be friends? We are friends. Let's leave it at that. You know what I mean. Sure, I know what you mean. Let me tell you something, baby. I learned a long time ago not to let dames interfere with business. Especially other guys' dames.

Now walk out of here before somebody has to carry you out. Okay, bitch. That's the way you want it. That's the way I want it. Scram. Detective Bureau, a few talking. Inspector Marr. Yes, sir? I want you to bring Steve Constantine to my office right away for questioning. Oh? Did you get a report back? You bet we did. And I think it's just the thing that's going to break this case wide open. Now back to Gangbusters.

And where'd you say you got these pants, Steve? I borrowed them from a guy named Graham, I told you. Johnny Graham. Boy, you said it was Joe Graham. Joe Graham, Johnny Graham, what's the difference? How come they fit you so well? We're the same size, Joe and me. Where's Joe Graham live? In Jackson. He's from Jackson. Where in Jackson? In Jackson. How should I know? When'd you borrow them? Yesterday.

Just yesterday. Joe come over and he wanted me to do some work in the garage, so he had an extra pair of pants and I put them on and we done the work. In the garage? Yeah, yeah, in the garage. We clean out some stuff and put sawdust down where the oil leaks and, you know, all that kind of thing. So I says to Joe, I says, Joe, this is some job and he says he never expected it. He...

Well, after we finished in the garage, we sat down for lunch and then... Yesterday, huh? Sure, sure, yesterday. Right after you borrowed the pants. Well, not right after. Maybe an hour. That's funny. That's funny. Your cleaner said those are your pants. He had them cleaned there three times. He showed me the marks. Okay, so they're my pants. And you wore them breaking into that furniture store last night. I did not. You didn't wear the pants? I didn't break into no furniture store.

You ever see one of these, Steve? I don't want to look at nothing. I want out of here. It's a laboratory report. Particles of plaster were taken from the cuffs of those pants. They were identical with the plaster that came down when you cut a hole in the ceiling of that furniture store. Are you kidding? Plaster's plaster. Oh, come on, Steve. You know, this report definitely put you inside that furniture store. This is evidence, the best.

To send you away for ten years. Whoops, Steve, you might as well tell us all about it. I wasn't near no furniture store. Yeah, Steve, you're on your way. Maybe you can do yourself some good by opening up. I ain't opening up for nobody. You can give me 30 years and I ain't opening up. Who was with you? Batch? Corny Mike? Couple of guys I never seen before. Strangers. Met them walking down the street. As a matter of fact, it was this Joe Graham. That's who it was, this Joe Graham. It was Batch, wasn't it? Let me along, will you, Steve? What? Ever hear of a girl named Effie?

No. No? Well, that's funny. She and your friend Batch have been spending a lot of time together. Yes, that's... They were in a bar together a little while ago, having a great time. What bar?

You're lying. Why should I lie, Steve? It doesn't mean a thing to me. That's just what the detective we've got on batch reported. Effie's your girl, isn't she, Steve? Okay, so she's my girl. You're going away to the penitentiary and going to leave her all to batch. Maybe they know you're hooked. Maybe that's what they're celebrating. Let me out of here, will you? Open up, Steve. You can take batch along with you. Come on, come on. Let's have it. There need two timers to both of them. He was with you, wasn't he, Steve? Yeah. Yeah, he was with me, yeah.

Well, what are you waiting for? Get your stenographer in here. Get him in here. I'll tell you enough to clear 50 safe crackings. Get the guy in here. Get him. Batch. You want to know about Batch? Yeah, Steve. About all of them. Let's start from the beginning. Well, Batch, welcome to the country club. Take it easy. Keep your mouth shut. We'll be out in the street in an hour. Okay, Batch, this is your cell. Much obliged. Hi, Mike. Come in, Batch.

We need another hand for the stuck in. Copper, don't lose that key. You'll be needing it in a few minutes. We got Ritz working. Don't kid yourself, Bats. This time you're hooked. Steve opened up. You're lying, Copper. Am I? You'll see what he has to say as soon as we get you upstairs. Well, make yourself comfortable. So, Don, eight arrests simultaneously at four o'clock in the morning brought to an end this troublesome gang of safecrackers.

They're all now serving long terms in the Michigan State Penitentiary. Well, thank you, Chief of Detectives Jack Harville, Detroit Police Department, for the inside facts in this case history. And congratulations to members of the Detroit Detective Bureau who successfully concluded this difficult investigation. Tonight's case was dramatized by Stanley Ness and directed by William Sweets with Arthur Vinton, Elspeth Erick, and Walter Vaughn in leading roles.

Thanks for listening! If you like what you heard, be sure to subscribe so you don't miss future episodes. If you like the show, please, share it with someone you know who loves old-time radio or the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me and follow me on social media through the Weird Darkness website.

WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can listen to free audiobooks I've narrated, get the email newsletter, visit the store for creepy and cool Weird Darkness merchandise. Plus, it's where you can find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression, addiction, or thoughts of harming yourself or others. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com.

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