Welcome. I'm E .G. Marshall. Those of you who
have attended performances in the Mystery Theater
know that there are certain tales that particularly
entrance and intrigue me. They deal with the
unusual, the unfamiliar, the unexplainable. So
I have turned today to that master of mystery,
Wilkie Collins, who has a habit of coming up
with a story that always makes me say, why, that's
not possible. Or is it? Xavier! Xavier Yardley
Zenith! Can you hear me? Yes, I can, Uncle. It's
me, Xavier. Are you a ghost? Why didn't Father
Daly bless my coffin? I wanted him to, Uncle.
But he refused. Absolutely refused. Because he
said you didn't die a natural death. You must
make him bless the grave, Xavier. I... I cannot
rest until he does. Our mystery drama. Shadows
from the Grave, adapted from a story by Wilkie
Collins, was written especially for the Mystery
Theater by James Agate, Jr. and stars Christopher
Tabori. I'll be back shortly with Act One. One
invariably associates the mysterious with lonely
old houses, strange small inbred towns, peculiar
characters, and I have to admit this story follows
that pattern. The man who told it to me is one
XYZ -ness. You can imagine the kind of comments
this poor fellow has gone through life with.
Nevertheless, he didn't seem to mind when I said,
XYZ, would you tell us about your extraordinary
adventure yourself? Having been christened Xavier
Yardley Zenith and suffered with those initials
all through school in California, I decided that
when I got to the job age and became very good
in photography to open up a studio of my own.
Call it Zenith of Hollywood. Not an unusual word
in Hollywood. where everything is the top, the
best, the ultimate, the zenith. Two things occurred
in April of this year which totally changed my
life. One, I planned to marry. And two, I got
a note from my Uncle George who lived in Fresno
to come see him on what he called a matter of
some importance. Hello up there. Uncle George,
it's me Xavier. What are you doing up in that
tree? Xavier. Welcome, my boy. I've just about
sealed up this hole in the tree. Here, give me
a hand. Steady. Pretty spry for a man of my age,
don't you think? You've never been up this way
before, have you, Xavier? Not since I was a child,
Uncle George. Oh, that's right. I remember now.
This beautiful house hasn't changed. My father
built it in memory of Queen Victoria. What happened
to this big old oak, struck by lightning? No,
it's the woodpeckers and squirrels that make
all these holes. I've just had it with the noisy
beggars. They jump from this tree to the top
of the porch and then they run along my bedroom
window making the most infernal racket you can
imagine. So I've just been sealing up a few of
their nesting places. Let them find apartments
elsewhere. I say. What about that big hole on
the other side of the tree? Maybe tomorrow I'll
mix up some more cement. Say, boy, do you always
go around with two cameras hanging around your
neck? Photography is my business, so I'm always
prepared just in case. Is there living in it?
You sell your pictures? I used to do better.
Took shots of movie stars on location. Did a
lot of newspaper and magazine work. But work
is thinned out. I have a proposition to make
you Since I gather the picture taking business
isn't too profitable these days. I think you
may be interested Are you married? I'm just about
to be this coming Saturday matter of fact good
Then what I have in mind might make an excellent
wedding present I'm not a rich man Xavier, but
comfortably off 59 acres orchards gardens this
house, and a private family vault on the premises.
You're joking. You own a mausoleum? Death is
not a joke, Xavier. I am going to die in a week.
You? No, you're not. You look fit as a fiddle.
An ill -tuned fiddle. No, death is only a few
days off for me. I've known it would come to
this for some time, so it's no surprise. I'd
like to show you where I'm going to be buried.
Here we are. That's Carrara Marble and Vermont
Granite. Those two locks on the bronze door are
an invention of mine. Mind if I take a picture
of it? Not at all. There's no one in your private
mausoleum now, is there? No. There was. No. No
one. Now Xavier, I want you to pay particular
attention. Two keyholes and two separate brass
keys. There is a very good reason for the two
locks. When I am laid to rest inside this vault,
Xavier, I don't expect I shall be trying to get
out. But I do not wish anyone else to get in.
But why would a person want to? It's not necessary
for me to explain all that to you now, my boy.
I turn the handle, and so... Not spacious, but
not crowded. My final home. Uncle, if you don't
mind, could we go back to the house now? I'm
not at my best in mausoleums. All right. I've
shown you everything. We'll sit ourselves on
the porch, and I'll tell you what's on my mind.
Have you ever sat in a porch swing, Xavier? Comfortable?
I love these old swings. Xavier, I have no choice.
You are my only living kin. There is no one else.
I'm leaving all my worldly possessions, this
house, the contents, the grounds, everything
to you on one condition. You must live here and
every day, every single day, mind you, you must
go to that mausoleum and make certain there's
been no one tampering with the locks. And that's
the only condition, Uncle? The only one. I certainly
appreciate your generosity. Can I think it over
and let you know I I'd like to talk it over with
Catherine absolutely not You're going to agree
right now, but under but what? You can have your
Zenith of Hollywood office right here. This place
is plenty big enough You can turn the solarium
into a studio if you like. I don't care. I won't
be here It's all decided then hmm. Hmm good I'll
have Henley take you to the top of the hill a
good view and you can see most the property Have
a tug at that bell pole, will you, Xavier? My
dear boy, you don't know what a relief this is.
My fate lies in your hands. Wait just a moment,
Uncle. I haven't agreed to this inheritance yet.
But if I do, and I find someone's been at the
locks of that mausoleum, what should I do? In
my desk in the library, bottom right -hand drawer
is a letter of instructions. The envelope has
one word on it. Joshua. Did you say Joshua? But,
unless someone's been trying to break in, that
letter must never be read. You rang, sir? Yes,
Henley. This is my nephew, Xavier Yardley Zenith.
He's going to be living here. I want you to acquaint
him with the property. Very well, sir. Goodbye,
Xavier. I shall not be seeing you again. Have
a good walk. Well, my dear Joshua, your old friend
George Zenith has found a way to outwit you.
Do you hear me, Joshua? That's exactly what he
said, Catherine. He stood looking out of the
window at the tree he'd been cementing, talking
to someone called Joshua, who of course wasn't
in the tree. It was most uncanny. And then I
left the room with Henley the butler. How well
do you know your Uncle George? Only slightly,
I'd say. So then you have no idea what he meant
by, Joshua, I'm going to outwit you now. Not
the vaguest. But the important thing is, Katherine,
do we want to spend the rest of our lives in
a Victorian white elephant with a cook and a
butler? Our lives? Well, that's the deal, if
I accept. I have to guard that mausoleum. Every
single day. Darling, let's forget about this
crazy Uncle George of yours. We're getting married
Saturday. That's enough to think about for now.
If your uncle wants to leave us his big old house
in Fresno, fine. I love old houses. Especially
when it's a free gift. You didn't promise anything,
did you? No, I didn't. Saturday, Katherine and
I tied the knot. Nothing fancy just a few friends
at the registrar's office on Hollywood Boulevard
About a dozen of us drove out to Laguna Beach
for a wedding breakfast And we just got around
to toasting one another in California champagne
When my service tracked me down and left a message
that uncle George Had died and would I come back
to Fresno? I'm father daily mr. Zenith your uncle
came occasionally to our church father daily.
This is my wife Catherine. How do you do? I'm
sorry this sad occasion has brought us together.
Not a very auspicious first married week, is
it? It's hard to believe. He seemed so healthy.
And when he talked about being dead in a week...
Did he? Yes. I thought it was his macabre sense
of humor. How do you suppose he knew? Well, if
he intended to take his own life, then quite
naturally he would know. Well, surely no one
thinks... My son, no one knows. When is the funeral
service? Well, there isn't going to be one, in
the strict sense of the word. No funeral? But
why not, Father? I'm afraid Mr. Zenith's uncle
may not have died a natural death. The medical
examiner said an overdose of sleeping pills.
Oh, but couldn't that have been an accident?
I mean, he told me he had a lot of trouble sleeping.
Well, of course it could have. Which is what
the coroner decided, death by accident. But so
long as there's the slightest suspicion, which
you have rather confirmed just now for me, I
cannot bless the grave. I could bite my tongue
for telling you what he said, that he'd be dead
in a few days. Had you kept your uncle's intentions
secret, that indeed would have been a mortal
sin. Yes, Henley. You wish to see me? I do, sir.
Cook and I want to leave. You wish to leave this
house? But why? While your uncle was alive, there
were some very peculiar things going on. But
out of loyalty, we just couldn't go. Peculiar
things that frightened you? Oh, yes, indeed,
sir. Strange voices and goings -on and awful
shrieks. Like someone being attacked. Terrifying,
if you ask me. I quite agree with you. Have you
heard such noises since my uncle passed away?
No, Mr. Zenith. Well, then I suggest to you the
noises died with him. Now, I'll double your salary,
Cook's also, and I don't want to hear any more
about your leaving. You put it that way, sir.
We'll be happy to stay on. Every day, I'd go
out and check the locks on the family vault.
Katherine and I started making over the solarium
into a studio, and I ordered equipment for a
dock room. But then, one night, I had a strange
dream. Xavier! Xavier Yardley Zenith! Is that
you, Uncle George? Why didn't Father Daly bless
my coffin? I wanted him to, Uncle, but he wouldn't.
He said there was... Some question as to how
you died Uncle George am I really talking to
you or am I imagining things in my sleep? To
sleep, says Hamlet, perchance to dream. Aye,
there's the rub. For in that sleep of death,
what dreams may come when we have shuffled off
this mortal coil, must give us pause. Our friend
Xavier Yardley Zenith has surely been given pause.
His uncle dies mysteriously, then appears in
a dream giving orders, exacting promises. Where
will it leave? Where will it end? I shall return
shortly with act two. It has been an enigma for
thousands of years. Are ghosts an illusion, a
projection of what one wishes to see, or do they
represent some ephemeral link between the world
of the dead and the world of the living? The
problem that faces Savior Zenith is to persuade
a member of the ministry to bless the remains
of a man who may have committed murder. For indeed,
that is how the Church regards suicide. Catherine,
I tell you, Uncle George's ghost said it as clearly
as I say this to you. Father Daly must give me
his blessing. I cannot rest until he does. Honey,
can I say something? I appreciate this inheritance,
the house, the grounds, money to run it and have
a butler and a cook. I never in my wildest dreams
did I ever think I'd have that. But on the minus
side, there's all this infatuation with death.
That mausoleum which has to be guarded as though
it were Tutankhamen's tomb. And now you having
nightmares about your uncle. Savior, it's not
healthy. What am I to do? I gave my word. Well,
what about your career? You're a little young
to retire to a gingerbread house in Fresno and
play nursemaid to ghoulies and ghosties. Oh,
we're gonna make a great studio out of the solarium,
and then that enormous closet, turning it into
a dark room, it'll be great. You don't understand
me, do you? You've got to get out into the world
and take pictures, Mr. Zenith of Hollywood. But
having always to be one night away from this
place so you can check the locks on a dead man's
tomb is going to hold you back. I told you all
this before we married, so don't throw it in
my face now. What's the matter with you, Xavier?
Have you no will of your own? Why, a month ago,
if I told you that a ghost came to me in my sleep,
you would have laughed right out loud. I'm not
laughing now. You really believe you saw him,
don't you? Of course I do. I was there. He was
there. I heard him. And you've decided to stick
it out here for the rest of your life. Is that
it? If I have to, I will. I think I'd better
leave you alone until you cool off. I'm not letting
any dead uncle get in the way of my life. And
I mean it. Katherine did mean it. Next thing
I knew, she'd lit out and went back to LA. I
knew where to find her, all right. At her mother's.
But I was darned if I'd go running after her.
My dear Mr. Zenith, my hands are tied. The church
simply cannot acknowledge any untoward death.
Father Daly. For three nights running uncle George
has appeared to me at night saying Help me lie
in rest. I cannot until father daily blesses
my coffin Xavier May I call you Xavier? I wish
you would my boy You and I are both modern men
at the edge of the 21st century For you to tell
me that you're being visited by your uncle's
ghost While I won't discount it as a possibility,
it's much more likely to be your own conscience
worrying you to such an extent that you can convince
yourself that you've seen him. You tell me it
happens when you're asleep. I say to you, yes,
it could, but that still doesn't make it any
more than a dream. Last night... He said I should
read some of the books in his library, and I
would understand. Go read your uncle's books.
And if this brings you peace of mind, then you'll
know whether his appearances are fact or fancy.
That's just what I aim to do, Father. You rang
for me, sir? Yes, I did, Henley. Come into the
library and shut the door behind you. Did you
know my uncle was greatly interested in black
magic? Well, I did tell you I was aware something
strange was going on. He and Mr. Tree, they did
some kind of... I don't know what you'd call
it. Mr. Tree? A friend of your uncle's. They
spent a lot of time together, and then, a year
ago, Mr. Tree went away. Can you be more specific
than something strange? Oh, well, sir... be a
lot of candles, hundreds, in fact, that have
them all burning, and there'd be incense and
chanting right here in the library, Mr. Zenith.
I've been reading these books, and what amazed
me was how many of them deal with the power of
black magic. I remember him asking me to bring
home a cup of holy water from the church. And
I said to him, I said, well, sir, you're supposed
to go to church in person and bless yourself
with holy water, not bring the holy water here.
And your uncle said, getting the holy water is
the easy task. I have to get the blood of a child
to mix with the water. Henley, did you ever find
out what it was for? No, I didn't. I didn't ask.
And I didn't steal the holy water from the church
either. Henley, you strike me as a sensible man.
Will you do me a favor tonight? I generally take
a walk in the garden after dark. Perhaps you'd
walk with me. Certainly, sir. I see you brought
your camera, Mr. Zenith. Can you take pictures
with only moonlight? Oh, yes. Filming so fast
nowadays, I could get a picture of you at 20
feet by the light of one match. Now this part
here, where we're walking, is this also part
of my uncle's property? I should say your property,
sir. This is all part of it. And that brook,
too. Let's walk to the other side across this
footbridge. The path seems to continue downstream.
Over there, over there. What's that little stone
building? Oh, that's the mausoleum, sir. Oh,
so it is. By moonlight, I'm afraid I'm a little
discombobulated. Oh, wait. That's a good shot
from this side of the brook. The mausoleum reflected
in the water. Yeah, I think I got it. Henley,
Henley. What's that? What's what sir figure of
a man I just saw him in my viewfinder then he
disappeared Again can't you see it Yes, there
was someone he's moving away from the mausoleum
you see him He's wearing a long cap almost to
the ground. Can you see how long keep? Oh, no,
no, no Excuse me, mr. Zenith, but I must go now.
I know it's just a minute. What is sir? Will
you please let go of my arm? Yeah, I will when
you tell me now. Do you know that man? He's come
back. Oh, I never thought we'd see him again.
Henley ran off. I followed the man in the cape,
keeping my distance across the brook. He seemed
to glide over the earth. I ran across the footbridge
towards him, and then he disappeared. I turned
back to the house. And suddenly, there he was,
standing against a big oak tree. And then...
he seemed to melt right into it. I do apologize,
Mr. Zenith, for my behavior last night, leaving
you like that. Yeah, sounds rather puzzled. You're
a photographer, sir. And so I... I have something
to show you. This snapshot. Do you see that man?
Yes. It's very like the thing I saw last night.
A hunched over man with a long cape. It looks
like he's talking to someone. Someone out of
camera range possibly. That's the peculiar part
of it. He was talking to someone. I took a picture
of the two of them. But the other man's not in
the picture. Are you saying this person we can't
see was there but didn't register on the film?
I don't think I understand. Perhaps it's better
that you don't, Mr. Zenith. What about the man
whose picture you've got? Do you know him? It's
Mr. Joshua Tree, sir, when he used to live here.
And now he's come back. That's why I must pay
you for your understanding and indulgence, Mrs.
Henley, and I simply cannot stay for a moment
longer. But even if it is Mr. Tree who's come
back, why must you leave, Henley? I... Can't
say anymore, I really can't. But if you want
my advice, Mr. Xavier, if you value your life,
you leave here also. When I developed the shots
I took of the Cape figure, they were identical
to Henley's snapshot. That night, from the darkened
library, I watched the oak tree. At midnight,
the figure in the cape appeared. I crept out
of the house, following it to the door of the
mausoleum. This is what Uncle George must have
meant. I reached forward to stop the man. Something
hit me on the head from behind. I blacked out.
Savior? Savior, are you all right? Catherine,
what are you doing here? Am I dreaming? Don't
ask so many questions. That's quite a bump on
your head. Here, let me help you. I can make
it all right. Whoever hit me wasn't kidding.
Just stop talking and lean on me and we'll walk
slowly back to the house. Catherine, this gets
more mysterious every minute. But the biggest
mystery is how you just happened to show up.
I'm your wife, remember? I decided I was being
stupid, so I came back. No, darling, you don't
have to hold me up. I can make it all right.
You're not gonna trip and fall again while I'm
around Catherine I didn't fall Somebody hit me
Maybe or what are you talking about? I saw you
at the mausoleum when I came out of the house
I saw you step back and fall over there wasn't
a soul in sight You didn't see anyone near me.
It's after two in the morning when we get back
to the house to bed You go and not a peep out
of you You don't believe that I was hit from
behind. I believe my eyes, and they didn't see
a thing. Father Daley, who is Joshua Tree? Where
did you hear that name? Henley told me, but not
much else. Joshua Tree. He was a man who, to
the bottom of his heart, if he had one, was basically
evil. How did my uncle come to know him? Well,
he just turned up about two years ago. Your uncle
took a fancy to him and saw a good deal of him,
which I am afraid was the most unfortunate thing
he ever did in his life. Why do you say that,
Father? Joshua Tree was the very spirit of the
devil himself. I show you a photograph I took
near my uncle's vault the day before yesterday.
Is that Joshua Tree? Hmm. All right. I can't
really make out the face. But the cape and the
angle of the head is very similar, I'd say. But
of course, how could it be? He disappeared a
year ago. Father, here's another picture. Is
that the man? Yes. That's him. You didn't take
this picture, did you? No. It was given to me
by Henley. He took it. Now, if that's Joshua
Tree, you notice... He appears to be talking
to someone, but there's no one there. Oh, yes,
there is. But the camera can't record an apparition.
You mean Joshua Tree was talking to someone,
but we can't see him? Because, my dear young
lady, that invisible thing is a familiar. What's
that? A familiar is an evil spirit visible to
very few. The devil can see him, as can a sorcerer's
apprentice. So you were saying, Joshua Tree was
such an apprentice. Xavier, are you in here?
There's nothing here. I'll try this drawer. What
are you doing? Nothing, nothing, nothing. What
do you mean, nothing? I mean there's nothing
in any of my uncle's desk drawers. He told me
there was. Xavier, why don't you answer me? Because
I don't have any answer. Let me see if I can
get under this desk. Knock the wood. Maybe there's
a secret drawer. Ah, yes, it's hollow here. Listen,
one of these drawers is short. Behind it, there
must be. I'll pull this drawer out. I'll put
it on the floor. Then I reach back inside. I
feel something. An envelope. Well, here she'd
be. How did you know it was back there? Before
he died. Last time I saw him alive. Uncle George
told me that if somebody was tampering with his
mausoleum, I'd find my instructions in a letter
with the word Joshua written on it. To whom it
may concern... Oh, no. Oh, no! Murdered! He killed
him! Lord in heaven, what are we to do now? The
ghost in the play Hamlet says, I am thy father's
spirit doomed for a certain term to walk the
night till the foul crimes done in my days of
nature are burnt and purged away. Is it so with
our Uncle George? Is he also doomed to eternal
unrest until his sins are purged and burnt away?
With the end of uncertainty, I shall bring you
Act Three, when I return shortly. It's all very
well to poo -poo the occult, ghostly apparitions,
phantoms that haunt. the deceased who cannot
find peace until they find love, or are forgiven
their earthly sins, etc., etc. But the fact remains
that time and again psychic researchers have
agreed there are manifestations that defy and
disobey nature's laws. And whether we like it
or not, the unexplained does exist. I shall never
forget that evening, for even as I stood there,
The letter of confession in my hand, Catherine
waiting for me to read on. We were both suddenly
so overcome by the cold, I had to light a fire.
And this was late July, mind you. We needed a
fire, we lit candles. Something compelled us
to light dozens and dozens of candles. I feel
warmer now. It's seeing the flames, I think.
Go on, Xavier, read your uncle's letter. To whom
it may concern... Especially you, my dear nephew
Xavier. I fear they have come to get me. They've
appeared at the door of my mausoleum. Or else
you would not be reading this letter. Stop. Uncle
George! Catherine, do you see him? Yes. Is he...
is that your uncle? Don't be alarmed. Am I really
hearing this? Joshua Tree's body is hidden somewhere.
How can I find it? We will try anything to help
you, Uncle. Persuade Father Daly to bless my
grave. Help me, Xavier. Help me, me, me, me,
me, me. I'm glad you finally saw him too, Captain.
Oh, those heavy summer storms. We better check
the library window. I'll do the ones on the side,
Catherine. You make sure the ones facing the
front will have the show. Look! The fire in the
fireplace. It's going out. How strange. It must
be the downdraft blowing down the chimney. Now
the fire's gone out. All the candles are going
out. Must be some strange air circulating in
this room. Let me get the electric lights. The
switch is by the door. Well, that's funny. Nothing's
happened. Can't you turn the lights on? No way.
That happens often in the country. You get a
big storm and the electricity just shuts off.
I'll look out the front library windows and see
if there are lights in the other houses down
the road. Xavier, come here. There's someone
out there. Look. Pressed against the big oak
man in the cave. And next to him, a tall kind
of man. They're both huddling against the trunk
of the tree trying to keep out of the rain. Catherine.
The tall one. It's turning around from the tree.
It's looking right this way. Can it see us? Oh,
what a hideous face. Like death. The eyes. Do
you see those eyes? Now it's beckoning to the
man in the cape. I see him. Is that Joshua Tree?
In spirit. For I'm sure now where his body is.
Where? In that tree. That's why Uncle George
was so haunted. Oh, it's all clear to me now.
At that time, I followed Joshua Tree to the mausoleum.
They were trying to get at the corpse of Uncle
George. It was the familiar who knocked me down.
Am I imagining it? But the both of them have
come much closer to our picture window. Hello?
Father Daley, is that you? Yes. This is Xavier.
You've got to come over to my uncle's house.
You've simply got to. My boy, you sound quite
upset. Father, I implore you. Come now. Catherine
and I are here alone. Only you can save us. Give
me that phone. Father Daly, this is Catherine
Zenith. There are two creatures outside the library
window right now. They're not real people, Father.
I have a very strong feeling they are not human.
Quickly! Help us! Help us! They're raising their
hands now and pounding at the glass! They're
coming after us! We ran out the back door into
the raging stormy night, lashed by rain, not
knowing which way to escape. The only path through
the garden led right to the mausoleum, and before
we could stop ourselves, we were practically
on top of it. It's there! It's standing at the
door of the vault! Grab my hand, Catherine. Hold
on. We'll run for the brook. Where are we going?
Into the water. Come on! It's not deep, Catherine.
We can walk it. Stay in the middle of the brook
with me. You see, these evil spirits cannot follow
humans into water. If we just keep moving, it'll
give up. I'm sure of it. Oh, I hope you're right.
It's got to give up before I do. I was right.
The thing gave up, finally. And by the time we'd
climbed to shore, it had gone. There we stood.
The rain beating down on us from above, and our
legs and clothes soaked from the brook. Somehow,
we found the main road to town and ran towards
it. Oh, there's a car coming. I see headlights.
Let's stand at the wayside of the road. After
staying alive this long, I don't want to be hit
by a car. Xavier! Catherine! What are you doing
out here? Oh, Father Daly! Oh, don't answer me.
Just get in. We've got to get back to the house.
All right, all right, all right. Close that door
and let's go. Now, tell me, you two, what are
you doing standing in the road wet from head
to toe? We ran from the house to get away from
them. They actually broke through a plate glass
window. That's most peculiar. Peculiar? It was
horrifying. Why do you say that, Father? Because
the spirit of Joshua Tree and his familiar...
are not after either of you. Well, they certainly
gave a good imitation. You don't seem to understand.
These creatures, the dead and the spirit they've
called up, they're satanic twin, in fact. They're
not after living persons. They're on the constant
lookout for the newly dead. Wait till you see
the broken library window, and then tell me if
there aren't exceptions. Where are they now?
It's time I wrestled with the devil. What will
you do? I shall quiet the demons with my crucifix.
There's only one way to drive out Satan, and
the Church has been doing it for centuries. Father,
look. The vault door's open. Someone's coming
out. Not someone, but some things that are carrying
out your uncle's coffin. Stop! I charge you,
archfiends of Hades! Thou hast entertained familiarity
with Satan, the grand enemy of God! I charge
you! Put down that body and begone! Father Daly
advanced upon the two creatures holding his crucifix
in front of him. The familiar and the spirit
of the murdered Joshua Tree halted, released
the coffin and ran. Father Daly and I carried
Uncle George back inside the vault and closed
the doors. It came to me in a flash. The big
oak tree. It was there we would find the source
of the evil. You were right, Savior. I can see
their shadows. I'll hold them back with my crucifix.
Somewhere inside this oak are the remains of
the man my uncle killed. When we find them, I
suspect they'll be wrapped in that long, capy
war. There's a sizable hole on the far side.
When I first came here last April, my uncle was
up there cementing up some holes. Since he knew
Joshua Tree's body had been taken from the mausoleum
by the familiar, your uncle might have suspected
it was in this tree. I don't look forward to
finding a pile of decomposed bones. What do we
do with them, Father? Burn them. I'm glad Catherine's
in the house. Don't know how she would react
to a funeral pyre. We have no choice. The familiar.
It's still there. Its minutes on Earth are numbered.
Once we have destroyed the body of Joshua Tree,
what held it here no longer exists, and the familiar
must return to the black beyond. And Uncle George
must have known that his body could be invaded
after death. And he would have had to walk the
Earth forever with this familiar. When I find
the remains... I shall light the fire to them
and hold high the cross. But what about Uncle
George? I shall go back into the mausoleum and
bless the coffin. Requiescat in pace. The flames
consume the phantoms from the grave. The good
father returns to the tomb and blesses the coffin.
Will there be deliverance for the uncle? Yes,
released from wandering the earth. But in the
dimension of the beyond, will the spirit of the
murdered sorcerer allow his murderer to exist
in peace? Or will Uncle George discover his eternal
torture is just beginning? I shall return shortly.
The ghost of his father is real to Hamlet. Banquo's
ghost is real to Macbeth. And even if you or
I cry out as they did, hence, horrible shadow,
unreal mockery, hence, can we make specters disappear?
Defend ourselves from the unknown as we may try
to. The battle of angels and devils goes on.
So close not your eyes. Remember, all is possible.
Our cast included Christopher Tabore, Fred Gwin,
Betsy Beard, and Court Benson. The entire production
was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now,
a preview of our next tale. Our little mouse
has jumped at the chance. We move in? For a week
or two. That doesn't give us quite enough time.
Oh, there will be ways to prolong our stay. The
sicker she gets, the more she needs nursing.
How long will it take? One can never be quite
sure. The young have more resistance. And we
must take care. Oh, still I should imagine within
six weeks. And we'll be rich again. Forever,
my love. Once little Amy joins the Commodore
in, if you'll excuse the pleasantry, Davy Jones'
locker, you and I will be set for life. This
is E .G. Marshall inviting you to return to our
mystery theater for another adventure in the
macabre. Until next time, pleasant. Dreams?