There's something new in radio, new that is if
you're under 30. Network radio drama returned
to the air Sunday night when the CBS radio network
presented the first episode in its new hour -long
daily program called the CBS radio mystery theater.
The program is being broadcast by over 200 radio
stations around the country in effort to revive
a once major art form that lost out to television
in the 50s. These are all new programs but they're
being put together in much the same way the great
radio dramas used to be. with big name actors,
sound effects, music, and narration. E .G. Marshall
is hosting the series, and they'll be using such
well -known actors as Richard Widmark, Zero Mostel,
Agnes Moorhead, Celeste Holm, and Mercedes McCambridge.
Producing and directing the series is Hyman Brown.
If you're old enough to remember them, Brown
did such radio big -era greats as Enter Sanctum
and Thin Man. Doug Poling, CBS News. This is
KOIN Radio 97 in Portland. It's 10 -07. Come
in. Welcome. I am E .G. Marshall. Welcome to
the sound of suspense. Welcome to the fear you
can hear, but mostly to the world of terrifying
imagination. In the story you are about to hear,
the heroine is a young woman of 77. who has reached
her golden years with her sense of independence
intact, with a spryness to her limbs, very good
vision, and excellent hearing. But as you are
about to learn, there are times when hearing
well is not a blessing. I did it, Mrs. Canby.
Are you listening to me? I killed Richardson.
I did it. Me. No, no, no. mystery drama the old
ones are hard to kill was written especially
for the mystery theater by henry slusser and
stars agnes moorhead i'll return shortly with
act one And now here's Act One of The Old Ones
Are Hard to Kill. It begins with a stethoscope,
a blood pressure reading, an electrocardiogram,
and an altogether satisfying report on the health
of Mrs. Ada Canby. Hmm. Well, can't see a thing
to complain about, Ada. That little congestion
you had last time is all cleared up. All in all...
I'd say you're doing fine. For a woman my age,
you mean? The older the chicken, the tougher
it is to kill. That's what my grandmother used
to tell me. She lived to be 98. Speaking of relatives,
you see much of Walter. My grandson? Oh, the
usual once a year visit. He always comes up with
the same complaint. What's that? That I shouldn't
be living all alone. Oh, that big house of yours
must get pretty lonely sometimes. Well, the truth
is, Dr. George, I'm not alone there. You're not?
I decided to take you in the border last month.
Really? I haven't written Walter about it. I'm
sure he'd object to my taking in a stranger,
but there's really nothing wrong with Mr. Paulson.
Except his health, maybe. His health? What's
wrong with him? Oh, the poor man's had a terrible
cold for the past two weeks. Won't let me do
a thing for him, though. Well, where did you
meet this Mr. Poulson? He answered the ad I ran.
He was just back from South America. Been living
in Brazil for years. He's a very nice gentleman,
really. He keeps himself and tends his birds.
He has the loveliest blue parakeets. You can
hear them chippin' all over the house. It's the
friendliest song. Well, I don't see anything
wrong with what you're doing, either. Just make
sure you don't go and catch the man's cold. There's
not much chance of that. Poor man hardly ever
leaves his room. Well, how much do I owe you?
I'll send you the bill. I'm sure you'll forget
all about it. Promise me you'll send it. I'm
all right. That call sounds worse than that to
me. Why don't you let me fix your little hot
milk and honey? No, thank you, Mrs. Canby. Thanks
very much. I'm going to try to get some sleep.
Well, all right, if you say so. I guess it's
time I was in bed myself. I wonder if he keeps
his birds awake too? Mrs. Canby! Please! Please!
For heaven's sake, is he calling me? Mrs. Canby!
He is calling me! I'm coming, Mr. Poulsen! Oh
no, where are those darn slippers? Listen to
me. I've got to get help for you, Mr. Poulsen.
I'm dying. I'm dying. Confession. Do you want
a priest? Is that what you want? Richardson murdered
ten years ago. What? Murder. I did it. I killed
him for money. I was paid. Did you hear me? Oh,
Lord. Mr. Poulsen, do you know what you're saying?
Do you understand me, Lindell? He's innocent.
I killed Richardson, not Lindale. Let me get
help. You can tell them yourself, Mr. Poulsen,
and the police, and the doctor. You tell them,
please. Tell them to free Lindale. He's innocent.
Tell them I'm the one who killed Richardson ten
years ago. I don't know anything about such things,
and I don't want to. I did it. I killed Richardson.
I... I'll leave them in his room. Well, let's
see about this letter now. Dear Walter, I hope
you don't mind my turning to you for advice,
and I really don't know what to do. It's been
three days since my border mister Paulson passed
away, and I still haven't told the police what
the man said to me. I just can't bring myself
to get mixed up in anything like this. What's
the use of writing, Walter? He'll probably think
I've dreamed it all up. No, I'll just forget
it. How do you forget such a thing? Those names,
I keep hearing them. Richardson, Lindell. Lindell
is innocent. Oh dear God, what if it's all true?
If Mr. Paulson actually murdered this Richardson,
and Lindell is innocent. Only... Well, who are
they? I wonder if it's a telephone book. Well...
Well, why not? Let's see. Richard... Richard...
Oh, I see there, J .R. Yes, yes, here it is.
Oh, Lord, this doesn't sound... Well, I'll try
Lindell. That wouldn't be as common, I don't
suppose. Yes, yes, here it is. That's only about
half a dozen, then. D -O -D -D -O -O -O -O -O
-O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O
-O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O -O oh my heavens lindell
and richardson both names together lindell and
richardson investments nine concourse 4153132
i wonder if well maybe maybe it's the only way
to be sure Mr. Lindell? He isn't? Well, then
what about Mr. Richardson? Oh, I see. Well, is
there someone there I can speak to? Yes, yes,
please. Thank you. Hello. This is Mr. Tilton.
May I be of service? Well, maybe you can. I want
to know about your Mr. Richardson, about when
he died. I think I did business with him once
a long time ago. Well, it's ten years, madam,
just about. But if you're interested in investment
advice... Well, I'll think about it. Thank you
very much. Ten years. Well, it could be a coincidence.
I guess it all depends on how he died. How can
we be of help to you? I didn't come here to get
help, Mr. Shelton. I came to help you, as a matter
of fact. Or, rather, somebody you know. Who would
that be? A Mr. John Lindell, the man who was
supposed to have murdered Mr. Richardson. I'm
afraid I'm not following you. Well, it took me
all week to find out what happened to those two
men, and finally I found the story in the old
newspaper room down at the library. About Mr.
Lindell being indicted for killing his partner?
Well, I'm sure you know the whole story a lot
better than I do. Well, of course I know the
story, but that was quite a long time ago, Mrs.
Canby. Ten years doesn't seem so long when you're
my age. Anyway, the point is that I can help
you, Mr. Lindell, only I can't do it alone. Did
you know John Lindell? No, no, I didn't. No,
Mr. Richardson, for that matter. The man I knew
was named Paulson. I rented a room to Mr. Paulson
and he died about eight days ago of pneumonia.
I was there when it happened. That's unfortunate,
but... Before he died, Mr. Paulson told me something
about Mr. Richardson's murder. He said Mr. Lindell
hadn't been responsible. That he, Mr. Paulson,
had committed it. For money. Oh, Mrs. Canby,
listen to me. It was this man Lindell that bothered
him. The fact that he was in prison for something
he didn't do. I thought I should tell you this,
Mr. Cheldon, because you knew both of these gentlemen.
It said so in the newspaper. Mrs. Canby, my dear
woman. Why? I don't know what silly story you
heard, but... It's completely wrong. There wasn't
any question about what happened. This border
of yours, whatever his name is, merely had an
obsession. Well, just the same, I thought you
could follow through on this business. Tell the
police, because if it is true, Mr. Lindell should
be freed. Aren't evidence like that? Well, I
don't know anything about evidence. I'm just
telling you what I've heard. Well, never mind.
I suppose I should have told the police myself.
Wait, wait, Mrs. Canby. Let me put your mind
at rest. John Lindell is no longer in prison.
Decent? He's dead, Mrs. Canby. He's been dead
for the last three years. He wasn't a young man
when all this happened. When he accused his partner
Fred Richardson of defrauding him and shot him
dead. He died? In prison? Even if all you say
is true that this man was Richardson's murderer,
you can't help John Lindell any longer. He's
beyond that. But his name, don't you want to
clear his name? Have you any proof? Any living
witness? Just myself. But you'd be willing to
involve yourself, start a whole new investigation,
open up the whole dreadful mess again? Mrs. Canby,
do you know that John Lindell had a daughter?
No. But wouldn't that be all the more reason
to do something? His daughter's married, living
in Minneapolis. A husband and three children.
People have forgotten about her father by now.
Would you want that poor woman to see his name
dragged through the newspapers a second time?
But if her father was innocent... Forget it,
Mrs. Canby. That's my advice to you. The old
wound is healed. Don't. Reopen it. Oh, and it
troubles me so. I haven't thought of anything
else since it happened. Perhaps if I saw a minister,
if I had some advice from a man of God, maybe...
Mrs. Kenby, now you've said something. Now you've
shown me the way. That's where our answer lies,
dear woman, in prayer. In the forgiveness of
our dear Lord. Will you pray with me, Mrs. Kenby?
Pray? Oh, not. God is everywhere. Please, join
me. Dear Lord, tell us what to do. Give us your
divine guidance. Show us the path to righteousness.
Mr. Stanton! Help us, O Lord. Help us to understand.
Teach us to forgive the sins of others and to
forget them. To forget. I feel much better now,
Mrs. Canby. Do you? I'm not sure. Let's turn
this matter over to God, Mrs. Canby. Not to the
police, but to the Lord. It's in His hands now.
Don't you agree? Well, in a way, that's true.
Since they're dead now, all of them... Mrs. Canby?
Yes. My name's Stuart Winfield, Mrs. Canby. I
understand you have a room for rent? Yes. Yes,
I do. Well, I'm new in town. I just arrived from
Philadelphia. I've been staying at a hotel, but
I'd like something homeier. Well, the room I
have is $35 a week. I can't offer you any meals,
but you can use the kitchen all you want. Well,
that sounds good to me. Would you like to see
the room? Yes, ma 'am. I sure would. Come on
in, then. Thank you. By the way, how did you
know I had a room for that? I was going to place
an ad this weekend. Oh, I guess someone at the
hotel mentioned it. I forget just who. Say, this
is a real fine old house, Mrs. Canby. I can see
that I'm going to like this place. Just fine.
And so Mrs. Canby has a new border. He's a very
personable young man with a great deal more charm
than old Mr. Paulsen had. Perhaps in a little
while Mrs. Canby will be able to forget her former
border and the shocking confession he made on
his deathbed. I'll be back shortly with Act Two.
Mr. Winfield took no time at all to make himself
at home at Ada Canby's big old house. He loved
everything about his room. The fine old four
-poster bed. The crazy quilt that Ada herself
had sewn up 40 years ago. The lace curtains on
the window. He even loved Mr. Paulson's blue
parakeets. But what he really seemed to like
best was Mrs. Canby herself. Just take me two
minutes to get these clean sheets on the bed.
Here, let me give you a hand. No, no, no, I can
manage. I've been making this bed for almost
50 years. 50? You've lived in this house that
long? Didn't hear when I got married back in
1919. My husband David bought it for us. Our
only son Ralph was born in it. And you've lost
them both? Yes, they're both dead, but I haven't
lost them. Oh, yes, yes, I understand, Mrs. Canby.
I guess I feel that way about my mom. Your mother's
dad? Yes, she died when I was two. Listen, Mr.
Winfield, are you sure you want these birds in
your room? I could take them to the parlor if
you want. No, no, I think they're great. I think
everything's great about this house. But there
is something you can do for me. What's that?
Would you mind not calling me Mr. Winfield? That's
what they call my father. My name's Stuart. Well,
well, all right. It's good. Dear Walter, I think
it's about time I told you that I have a boyder
in my house. Mr. Winfield is the nicest young
man you could want to meet. He's a great deal
friendlier than my first gentleman, Mr. Paulson,
and he seems to like nothing better than to sit
around evenings and talk. We talk about his home
and his parents and his plans for the future.
I think the poor boy misses his home and family,
and I'm sort of a substitute for all that. You
know, it isn't really fair, Mrs. Canby. You said
I had kitchen privileges, but that doesn't mean
you have to cook for me. Well, it's a pleasure,
Stuart. I haven't had anyone to cook for in years.
You're kidding. You mean to say you cook this
good without practice? Oh, you're just being
nice. I'm sure that stew is just plain ordinary.
It's terrific. No kidding. It tastes like, well,
it tastes like home, if you know what I mean.
It depends on whose home you mean. Well, my mom
cooks stews like this. That's what I meant. Your
mom? But she died when you were only two. Oh,
well, I guess I didn't mean my mom exactly. I
was thinking of my Aunt Martha. I mean, she's
the one who sort of took over the cooking and
stuff after my mother died. And my father's sister,
you know? I see. Well, that was lucky that you
had someone to take her place. Yeah, that's right.
Excuse me. My Stuart, you're not coming down
with anything, are you? No, no, I'm fine. Just
a little case of the sniffles. Listen, if your
room isn't warm enough, I have an extra blanket.
No, no, the room's just fine. Don't worry about
it. Well, you be sure now. I know I felt a little
guilty about poor Mr. Paulson when he got sick.
Maybe I didn't take good enough care of him.
Paulson? Was that your former boarder, the bird
lover? Yes, that was his name, the poor man.
Tell me about him. Well, I don't really know
that much about him. He lived here less than
two months. What sort of a guy was he? Very quiet.
He kept himself. Did you say he was from South
America? I don't remember if I did or not. You
must have said it. Yeah. Yes, of course He was
American, but he'd been living in Brazil. I don't
know why exactly Although come to think of it.
Maybe I do What do you mean? Well, it it just
occurred to me that Brazil might be just a place
for someone who came into a lot of money and
wanted to leave the country I don't understand
I really think you are getting a cold, Stuart.
I'm getting that blanket out this minute. Now
wait, Mrs. Canby. I'd rather hear about... Never
mind. I don't want to take any chances. I'll
be right back. Yes, Mrs. Canby. Don't take any
chances. Stuart? Yes? Come in. I bought you a
tray, Stuart. Oh. Now, you shouldn't have...
You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble,
Mrs. Kennedy. It wasn't a nice day of trouble.
Besides, you've got to have some supper. Feed
a cold and start a feeling of despair. I mean,
I was going to come out to the kitchen and get
myself a sandwich or something. You didn't have
to bring it to me. Oh, look at that. Is that
roast chicken? Well, that's what it's supposed
to be. I hope it tastes all right. Noodle soup
with dumplings. Mrs. Candy, you're spoiling me
rotten. Do you know that? I just thought it'd
be a good idea if you stayed in bed and took
it easy. You weren't planning to go out tonight,
were you? No, no. I was just going to stay in
and read for a while. Maybe watch television.
Oh, that's good. Here, I'll just set this tray
down. The service here is just too good. Oh,
we never... I never finished our talk the other
day about that border of yours and Mr. Paulson.
Well, there's not much to say about him, really.
Well, you said something about his living in
South America. You said you thought you understood
why he was living there. Sounded real interesting.
Well, the truth is, Stuart, there is something
to tell about Mr. Paulson. Maybe you can help
me feel better about it all. About what? I'm
not going to tell you if you don't eat. All right,
Mrs. Canby. I'll eat. Well, it happened just
about... You know something, Mrs. Candy, that's
about the best roast chicken I've had in years.
I'm sure I spoiled your appetite with all my
chocolate. No, no, that was a really interesting
story. But what do you think of it all, Stuart?
Do you think I did the right thing? Well, frankly,
Mrs. Candy, I do. Honestly? Well, this guy Cheldon
sounds a little screwy, but I think he's all
right. I mean, from a practical standpoint. Then
you agree with him? Sure. This man Richardson's
dead, right, and... What's his name, Lindell?
Yes. Well, he's dead too, right? Yeah, and poor
Mr. Paulson, the man who supposedly killed Richardson.
Well, there you are. Nothing you can do will
bring any of them back, right? Well, yes, but
just the same. And you know the police, Mrs.
Canby. They'll be hounding you forever, tracking
mud into your parlor, bothering you with questions.
No, Mrs. Canby. You're too nice a person to put
up with that kind of thing. You mean too old
a person. I just think Mr. Chilton was right.
Let sleeping dogs lie. Yes, that's what I keep
telling myself, but you know something? There's
one thing Mr. Chilton forgot. And me too, I suppose.
What's that? Why, the real murderer. He may still
be alive, even if all the others are gone. Don't
you see? No, I... I don't. Even if Mr. Lindell
can't be helped anymore, that doesn't mean the
real murderer should get away. But the real murderer
is dead. Poulsen. No, the killer is the man who
hired Mr. Poulsen. Don't you see? Is it right
that he should get away with it? No, wait a minute.
You're jumping to conclusions. No, I'm not. Mr.
Poulsen told me that he was hired to do this
thing. Well, maybe he was hired by Lindell. Maybe
Lindell hired him, and then Paulson got a cold
feed, and Lindell did the shooting himself. No,
I'm sure that isn't true. You see, I read the
newspaper article all about it. Well, you really
were thorough about this, weren't you, Mrs. Candy?
You poor man. That cold's gone to your chest
now, hasn't it? No, I'm all right. Stop worrying
about me. Let's talk about this. This other problem
of yours. Well, maybe I'm making it more of a
problem than it should be Maybe if I just told
the police everything I could forget once and
for all no, I I Really couldn't advise that mrs.
Candy Well, it said in the newspaper story that
the two men were partners in that investment
firm And mr. Lindell thought that his partner
Richardson was cheating Taking money out of the
firm That's why he's supposed to have shot him.
Wasn't there a witness to the shooting? Why,
yes, I think there was. Come to think of it,
it was Mr. Shelton. That's right, that's right.
Well, doesn't that wrap it up for you? Well,
it would if it wasn't for Mr. Poulson. Listen,
Mrs. Canby, you know how much I like you. Well,
in just a few days, you're more like family to
me than my Aunt Martha ever was. Nice of you
to say Stuart, and that's why I want you to listen
to me about this That's why I want you to forget
about this whole foolish thing Mr. Chilton, it's
me, Winfield. What's happening? I think I better
stick around for a few more days, Mr. Chilton.
The old lady's beginning to get fidgety, if you
know what I mean. Well, something tells me that
Stuart Winfield isn't such a nice young man after
all. Could it be that he wasn't telling mrs.
Canby the truth about his dear mother and his
aunt Martha? Could he have not told her the truth
about his plans for the future? Of course the
real issue is what sort of plan does he have
for Ada Canby's future? I'll be back shortly
with act 3. I'm high Brown and as producer of
radio mystery theater Welcome to the premiere
of an exciting venture in modern radio the return
of spine tingling suspense and mystery seven
times a week with fine actors and actresses and
one other star player. Your imagination. We'd
like to hear whether you're glad radio drama
is back. So we're holding a weekly drawing for
three weeks with 50 prizes a week, two AM FM
stereophonos, two travel clock radios, and 46
anthologies of modern suspense. All you do is
send us your name and address to Mystery Theater,
Fox 50, Radio City Station, New York 119. Fox
50, Radio City Station, New York 119. Offer good
everywhere, unless locally prohibited. Our drama
continues in one minute. Poor Mrs. Canby. She
isn't sleeping well tonight. But of course, Mrs.
Canby has good reasons for insomnia. Her thoughts
are whirling. Her border steward was right. She
doesn't want the bother of going to the police.
And she firmly believes in the old adage, if
you don't trouble trouble, trouble won't trouble
you. But still... Oh my. I'm just never going
to get to sleep tonight. Poor Stuart. He's still
coughing. I'm sure that room is just too dry.
I never should have let any boarders in until
I got the windows fixed. Oh dear, that poor boy.
I'll never forget the terrible night Mr. Paulson
was coughing so badly. And away he looked, all
gray and shrunken. If only I knew he was so sick.
No, if only he'd never even come to this house.
Mrs. Canby, I killed Richardson. I did it. Will
I ever forget the sound of that man's voice?
McDowell is innocent. McDowell is innocent. That
poor man. the years he spent in jail for something
he didn't know. Let sleeping dogs lie, Mrs. Canby.
My Aunt Martha always said, let sleeping dogs
lie. If only I could get some sleep. Let us turn
this man over to God, Mrs. Cary. Not to the police.
Not to the police. Not to the police. What a
strange man he is. Mr. Chum, where he talked
about God, praying in his desk. Of course, God
is everywhere, but his desk! I killed Richardson!
I murdered him for money! I was paid! I was paid!
Paid? Paid! Someone had to pay him. Mr. Paulson
wasn't the only guilty one. Someone else was
too. Oh dear lord. Mr. Shelton. Shelton. What
did that newspaper article say? The chief witness
against Mr. Vindel was Arnold Shelton. But how
could he be a witness? Just something that never
happened. How could he be? Oh, let me tell someone.
I'll have to talk to someone. Yes, I'll tell
Stuart about it. In the morning. Stuart, are
you awake? Yes, I'm up, Mrs. Swanby. Come on.
Oh, no. Now, don't tell me I'm getting breakfast
and dead, too. I know you had a terrible night
last night, Stuart. You were coughing much worse
than ever. I guess that medicine wasn't very
good. I'm sorry I kept you awake, Mrs. Kanger.
That wasn't your fault. Something else kept me
up. What was that? Oh, my mind, I guess. Maybe
I should say my conscience. That sounds serious.
It is something serious, Stuart. I might have
let a man get away with murder. No, it's even
worse than that. He did something worse than
murder. You're talking about Paulson again. No,
I'm talking about the man who hired Mr. Paulson.
He didn't just have that man Richardson shot.
He let an innocent person go to jail and die
there. Now that's like committing two murders,
if you ask me. I have to tell you something that
occurred to me last night. Sure, go ahead. Well,
it's about Mr. Chelton. Mr. Arnold Chelton. Yeah?
Go on. I don't miss him. Stuart, I wonder if
maybe the reason Mr. Chelton was so upset with
me, the reason he didn't want me to go to the
police, was because he was afraid. Explain what
you mean. Well, what I mean... is maybe Mr. Shelton
had good reason besides the one he told me. He
was working for both Mr. Richardson and Mr. Lundell
at the time of the murder. Oh, well, so what?
Well, he was also the chief witness at the trial,
a witness for the prosecution. But he saw the
shooting, didn't he? Well, that's just the point.
He saw Mr. Lindell shoot Mr. Richardson. Well,
that's not what you told me last time. I mean
that he was an eyewitness. No, that's right.
He didn't actually see the shooting. He was miles
away when it happened. I don't quite remember
the details. Is there was something about a phone
call, maybe? Yes. Yes, that's what it was. He
claimed that Mr. Richardson was talking to him
on the phone when Mr. Lindell showed up at his
apartment. He said that Richardson cried out
something about Lindell. Having a gun. And then
he heard the shot. But how could that have happened
if the gun was fired by Mr. Paulson? If, Mrs.
Candy, that's the big little word, isn't it?
If? But don't you see what I'm saying, Stuart?
Arnold Chauvin had the most to gain. Gain? From
what? From both these men leaving the firm. That'll
leave the whole thing to him. All those customers,
all the investments he handled. All the commissions,
or whatever they call it. Are you accusing this
guy Chelton of being the killer? Yes. It's the
only answer, Stuart. Well look, if that was the
case, the police would have figured it out. But
they didn't. There was nothing in the stories
I read that pointed to any suspicion at Mr. Chelton.
I don't suppose it even occurred to them. And
now... The company is all his. You don't call
out evidence, do you? Well then why didn't he
let me go to the police? Why did he try so hard
to talk me out of it? That man was praised to
it. He was taking the name of the Lord in his
name. Oh, I'm sorry, Stuart. I'm so sorry. I
won't bother you anymore. I know what I have
to do, anyway. One minute, Mrs. Candy. I won't
be gone long, Stuart. No, no, wait. When the
minute I get back, I'm going to call Dr. George
and ask him to come over. Never mind the doctor.
You're calling the police. No, no, I won't call
them. You're right. I don't want them tracking
Latin in my parlor. I'm going down to the station
house and talk to them. Go get dressed now and
go straight there. Please, please think about
what you're doing. I'll tell them what I know
and they can do the rest. Now you try to eat
something, Stuart. Please! Mrs. Candy! What is
this, Winfield? I told you not to call me in
the office. It's emergency. You sound terrible.
What's the matter with you? I'm sick. Only you're
going to be a lot sicker. What are you talking
about? The old lady. I can't stop her. She's
decided to talk. What? She figured it out. Figured
out exactly what you did, Sheldon, and how you
did it. You fool. You've got to stop her. Do
you hear me? That wasn't part of the deal, Cheldon.
It's all of the deal now. The price didn't include
anything like that. The price just doubled. Old
ladies are always having accidents. Make her
have one. Make her have one now, Winfield. He's
gonna have a fall down there and sell his steps.
Right now. I think I've got to get my robe on,
and I slip as I... I've got to hurry. Stuart?
Is that you? Open up, Mrs. Canby. I can't believe
it. Stuart Winfield, what are you doing out of
bed? Now, you go right back there this second.
I've got to talk to you, Mrs. Canby, before you...
Go to the police. Just listen to you. You're
all winded. You can hardly talk, Stuart. Now
go back to bed before you catch pneumonia, too.
Now don't go, Mrs. Canby. It would be better
if you never went to the police. Better for you.
Better for me. For you? I don't understand. Well,
then I... I wouldn't have to hurt you, Mrs. Canby.
That's what I mean. I wouldn't have to do anything
bad to you. Stuart, what in the world are you
talking about? Come on, old lady. You're smart,
old lady. You really think things through. So
now, think a little harder. You knew? Stuart,
you knew about Mr. Polk? That's right. That's
how you knew my room was so rat because Mr. Shelton
told you. Now you're getting there, Mrs. Canby.
That's why you rented it. That's why you were
sent... Just to watch you mrs. Canby just to
see that you stayed sensible I was hoping you'd
never change your mind about calling the police.
I didn't want this part of it. This is the part
I like Just like my Aunt Martha would have been
if I had an Aunt Martha. We've got a date now,
Mrs. Candy. Let me go! I'm sick, remember? Just
shut your eyes. Please, shut your eyes and don't
look down. Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me!
Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me!
Help me! Help me! Help me! Will he be all right
dr. George now? I do want to worry about that
man for Truth is his injuries don't amount to
very much Covered in a broken rib seemed to be
the worst of it Well, he'll be a patient for
some time before they can put him in prison where
he belongs him and his friend What was that man's
name again? You mean mr.. Chaka? Have they arrested
here That's what the police technique said. I
understand Stuart's injuries aren't safe. It's
not the fall that made Winfields sick. His case
was diagnosed as simple pneumonia at first. And
then I remembered about your first border. Nelson
was it? No, Fawson. But he had pneumonia too.
He died of it. Is pneumonia contagious? Yes,
yes it is. This disease was even more contagious.
It's a pneumonia caused by a disease called Cytokosis
better known as parrot fever. You get it from
sick birds like the parakeets in your spare room.
Oh no. Mr. Coss's bird. Sorry Ada, but it had
to be taken out and destroyed. Oh, what a shame.
There's one reason. I feel sorry for them. They
saved your life. Made Mr. Winfield too weak even
to throw a little old lady down a flight of steps.
Those poor little creatures. Yeah, but you can
be grateful they didn't make you sick too. Parrot
fever is so contagious that no more than one
person in a thousand could be exposed to it and
escape infection. It was pretty darn close to
a miracle, they do. We're hard to kill doctor
remember the old ones are hard to kill They say
that people are living longer than ever before
And when we look at Ada can be we can understand
why? She's a tough old lady So tough she could
withstand the threats of man beasts So let that
be a warning to all those who think that our
senior citizens are easy prey for crime. Watch
out. They may turn the tables on you. Or the
stairs. I'll be back shortly. We have one final
comment for you on behalf of Ada Canby and old
people everywhere. There's a saying, there's
no fool like an old fool. But it's also true
that there's no wisdom and strength like old
wisdom and strength. There. Does that make you
feel better about your next birthday? Our cast
included Agnes Moorhead, Leon Janney, and Roger
de Kloven. The entire production was under the
direction of Hyman Brown. Now, a preview of our
next tale. You spoil me shamefully. And that
night, I spoiled her just a bit more by bringing
hot cocoa to her in bed. Drink it down now. Does
it taste all right? Oh, it tastes just fine.
Now that was very good news, because I prepared
the hot cocoa myself. And I had no idea whether
25 melted sleeping pills would seriously affect
the flavor. This is E .G. Marshall inviting you
to return to our mystery theater for another
adventure in the macabre. Until next time. Pleasant
dreams.