Men. Welcome. I'm E .G. Marshall. Welcome to
our world of mystery and the macabre. Sit back
and lend us your fears. Have you ever seen a
ghost? It is an experience of such horror as
to turn your blood to ice. Why no, why no? There
are those who scoff, but they have never met
a ghost. Mal Stout. was a scoffer, but not his
wife, Liz. And on the night they first drove
up Gormley Gorge Road to Gormley Lodge. All right,
Mel, you laugh if you want to, but the fact remains
that the puttons were driven off the bridge over
Gormley Gorge by a ghost driver in another car.
Who says? The sheriff. He told me that the wife
lived long enough to tell the story. How a car
driven by a skeleton. came driving straight at
them, and her husband swam to the side, and off
the bridge they went! She was dying! She was
in a state of shock! No! Not in the car! I'm
coming out of the car! Oh my God! He went right
by! You and your ghost driver is lit! It was
just another car, and it passed us! Yes, it passed
us! written especially for the Mystery Theatre
by George Lother and stars Augusta Dabney and
Mason Adams. I'll be back shortly with act one.
If it had been up to Liz, they'd never have bought
Gormley Lodge on top of Manitou Mountain in Colorado.
Why? Because according to a local legend, the
former owners, the Putnam's, had been sent crashing
to their death by a ghost driver who came at
them head -on. Now, in the living room of the
lodge... Liz, I've had it up to here with that
brother of yours. Oh, no. I mean, he promised
to help finish paying in his living room before
the dunk has arrived tonight, and where is he?
I'll tell you where he is. He is out on the slopes
skiing, enjoying himself as usual. Well, do you
just be reasonable now? If we didn't have Rory,
where would we get a ski instructor I'd like
to know? We certainly can't afford to hire one.
Any more than we could afford to have this place
painted. Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that I've got
so darn much on my mind. Liz, I just hope that
I haven't made the mistake of my life and yours.
We'll make a go of the lodge. We're off to a
pretty good start. The Duncans arrive tonight
and they're booked for a full week. And the Tots
and the Morgans arrive next week. Yeah, and after
that? Well, dying our newspaper ads ought to
get us more customers. Just ask yourself, John,
what would you rather be doing now? Painting
the living room of your own ski lodge with paying
guests arriving tonight? or slaving away at your
old accounting job in Aspen. Well, at least that
brought a check in every week. Oh, Mel, you've
wanted to be your own boss for years. And so
we bought this old mansion on top of Manitou
Mountain to start our own ski lodge. The old
Gormley Mansion. And we're gonna keep at it until
we make a success of it. Liz, you're marvelous.
Oh, there's somebody at the front door. I'll
get it. Oh, Mrs. Gormley. We've come to pay you
a visit, Ms. Stout. My first formal visit. Well,
that's very good of you, Mrs. Gormley. Oh, won't
you come in? All right, Jason. You heard the
lady. Wheel me in. Yes, Mother. You know my son,
Jason. You've met? Yes. Yes, briefly. Mel, the
Gormleys have come to pay a visit. Nice to see
you, Mrs. Gormley. Jason, uh... I hope you don't
mind if I finish this painting. Oh, go right
ahead. I'd give you a hand, old as I am, but
my arthritis keeps me in this wheelchair. Jason,
why don't you... No, thanks. I couldn't think
of asking a fine arts painter to do... Fine arts,
you hear that, Jason? Mr. Stout complimented
you, called the mountain scenes you paint fine
arts. Well, they are. Why, I saw some of them
in the ski shop in town. They're very good. Do
you sell many? A few. Oh, just enough to cover
the cost of the paint and canvas. Oh, yes, and
a quart of whiskey now and then. Mother, please.
What are they? If they don't hear it from me,
Jason, they'll hear it from others. What a drink,
now and then. Now and then. Tell the South how
you play Russian roulette with that old revolver
of your father's when you're drunk. Stop it,
Mother. Stop it. Perhaps you'd like some coffee,
Mrs. Gormley, or tea. It won't take a minute.
No, no, no. Thank you. We won't be here that
long. Now, I've come to do for you what I did
for the Putnam's. Them that bought my house out
from under me three years ago. Out from under
you? Mrs. Gormley, are you saying that we have
done that? Forced you out of your house? Well,
haven't you? Oh, it's not your fault. Jason's
father left his destitute. Left me destitute,
I should say. With a son too lazy to support
his old mother. So I had to sell this beautiful
place. Mother, the Stouts aren't interested in
all this past history. Well, they'd better be
if they value their lives. Value our lives? Well,
Mr. Halliday didn't tell you, of course. Tell
us what? About how the Putnam's met their death.
Why, yes. The real estate man told us about the
accident. That was no accident. No more than
my husband's death was an accident. He died in
the same way. His car crashed off the bridge
into the gorge. Right 800 feet down into the
gorge to the rock 800 feet below. But no accident.
Suicide. The Pudnams didn't commit suicide. Not
them. My husband Jason Senior. drunk and suicidal,
but theirs was no accident either, the Putnam's.
He drove them off that bridge. Who? My husband.
Oh, wait a minute, Mrs. Gormley. If your husband
was dead... Hi. I am back. Oh, sure. Naturally,
Rory. Now, the painting job is nearly done. Aw,
now, don't get uptight, Mel. I just didn't remember
it till I was out on the slopes. Hi, Mrs. Gormley.
Jason. Paying a little... Social calls? Anything
but social. Mrs. Gormley, are you saying that
your husband, even though he was dead, somehow
killed the Putnam's? Liz, come on now. All right,
I'll tell you. After my husband's death, when
I realized I'd been left penniless, that I'd
have to sell this place, I fell into a state
of depression. When the Putnams bought Gormley
Lodge, well, they were going to use it as a winter
home. not turn it into a ski resort like you.
When they bought it, and I had to move into a
little guest house, I was so sad, I thought I'd
die. For days and days, I sat and wept, and,
and then, and one night, my husband come to me.
Your husband? You dreamed? It was no dream. Oh,
it was my husband. His ghost. Oh, fuck all that.
He stood at the foot of my bed, and he begged
my forgiveness for leaving me a pauper and breaking
my heart. And he said, Jessica, I promise you'll
live in Gormley House again. And then he vanished.
The very next night, the Cuthmums crashed through
the bridge over Gormley Gorge. Well, accidents
do happen. It was no accident. The real estate
man didn't tell you the whole story. Mrs. Putnam
lived long enough to tell just what had happened.
You can ask Sheriff. The Putnams didn't go off
the bridge by accident. They were driven off
it. Forced to swerve off it by an oncoming car.
A car driven by a skeleton. Good heavens! That's
what I wanted to say. And now you know. Good
day. Well, what kind of a put -on is this? She's
trying to scare us out of here. I'm trying to
save your lives. You were trying to get back
into this house. That's what you're doing. Just
the way you moved back after the Putlins got
killed and lived here a full three years until
now. I have some respect. Respect? No way. She
may be old, but she's as shrewd as they come.
She frightens you off then moves back in again
and stays until some other sucker... I warned
you... Just let us know when your husband's ghost
shows up again. It did. What? Last night. Oh
man, this is the neatest rip -off. Shut up, Rory.
Would you... Your husband's ghost? Last night?
Yes. And he used the same words, Jessica, I promise
you'll live in Gormley Lodge again. Oh, I beg
you, listen to me. The partners wouldn't and
went to their death. Oh, Mrs. Gormley, you're
really out of sight. You know... You! So smart,
you're so sure of yourself. You think he isn't
watching and listening, my husband? You think
he doesn't know how you insulted me? Do you think
he'll not repay you all yet? If people are to
die this time, too, you will be the first. Now,
do you want? Jason, wheel me back. Be warned.
Rory, you shouldn't have talked to Mrs. Gormley
like that. You didn't spring for that crazy story,
did you? I don't know. I wonder. What, Liz? May
I call the sheriff? Find out if Mrs. Gormley's
telling the truth. Oh, come on, Liz. I look like
a fool. Anyhow, I've got to finish this paint
job. Liz, you're not... I must find out. Suit
yourself. You always do. Sheriff Harper speaking.
Oh, Sheriff. This is Elizabeth Stout calling.
We're the new owners of Bromley House. from Mrs.
Gormley. Oh? What do you mean, oh? Oh, nothing,
Mrs. Stout, only she can be a little hard to
take. We're getting on in years. Yes, well, what
I wanted to ask you, of course, you remember
the accident to the Putnam's three years ago,
crashing off the bridge over Gormley Gorge. Yes,
yes, I remember. Well, according to Mrs. Gormley,
Mrs. Putnam lived long enough to tell you what
had caused the accident. Is that so? Yes, it
is. And what did she tell you? Well now, Mrs.
Stout, she was near death. Maybe out of her head
was Spain and China. What did she tell you, Sheriff?
Did she tell you that they had been forced to
swerve off the bridge because of another car
that came straight at them? A car with a skeleton
driving it? Now look, just, just, just get off
it, Liz. We put our life savings every cent we've
got in this place, and I'm not leaving ghost
or no ghost. Well, speaking of leaving, I'd better
get on down in the Manitou and pick up the Dunkins
at the airport. Well, it's a bit early, isn't
it? Or have you got some cute chick in town that
you'd like to spend an hour or so with? Mal,
you put me away. Don't give me any... Mr. Duncan?
It's frightfully steep and curvy. Don't push
the panic button, Mrs. Duncan. I'll get you to
the top of Manitou Mountain safe enough. You'll
be enjoying a hot toddy in front of the fireplace
at Gormley Lodge before you know it. Maybe you
better slow down a little. It's okay. That was
just a patch of loose shale. You want you to
ski here, Mr. Duncan? Oh, I do okay. My wife
will need some lessons, though. I, uh, take it
Gormley Lodge has a pro. Oh, the best! Me! Well,
fine, fine. Say, this road is steep and curvy.
Must be pretty spectacular. Views, I mean, in
the daytime. Spectacular enough right now, what
I can see in the headlights. We've got some views,
all right. There's one, it's real cool. From
the bridge, over Gormley Gorge. Steep? 800 feet,
straight down. There isn't a moon tonight. I'd
stop on the bridge and let you have a look you've
seen one now I don't know about you but I'd like
to take a break to well steady my nerves I'll
be back shortly with act two if you have the
nerve to return is only a word. I could employ
all the art at my command, my voice, the words
I choose to convey to you the full impact of
terror. Yet, I know I should fail, even as Michael
Duncan fails now in telling his story to Sheriff
Harper on the bridge over Gormley Gorge the next
morning. Terror? You say you experience terror?
What is it? Would it be much longer before they
get the bodies up? Hard to say. business for
good. Not that it ever got started. Oh, wait
a few minutes and I'll ride back up with you.
Nothing I can do either till they recover Jill's
body. Oh, yes there is, Mr. Duncan. You can give
me a full account. Oh, Sheriff, I told you all
I know. We were driving across this bridge when
we saw this other car coming straight at us.
Stout's brother -in -law was driving. He swerved
to avoid the oncoming car and went through the
guardrail. In the split second between swerving
and going through the rail, I... left clear and
saved myself. I wish I could say the same for
that boy and Jill, my wife. About the skeleton
at the wheel of the other car... Why do you keep
harping on that? Because it's something to harp
on. If you saw a skeleton driving that car...
I didn't. You said... I know what I said, but
I've got to be wrong. I couldn't have seen what
I thought I did. I don't believe in ghosts. Take
it easy, Mr. Duncan. All I'm after is a complete
report. The fact. All you're after is the publicity
you're gonna get out of this. Put you on the
map, won't it, Sheriff? Why, you might even get
a job in orderly - Oh, yes, of course. I'm...
I'm surprised to see that you're not in a wheelchair.
Well, it depends on how bad my arthritis kicks
up. Sometimes I can walk with a cane, like now.
I see. Is your husband home? No. He's down at
the bridge with Mr. Duncan. Oh, the fella whose
wife got killed, huh? Yes. Well, I'm sorry about
that. Sorry about your brother, too. Even though
he asked for it. What is this going on? Your
brother's dead because he wouldn't listen. He
wouldn't heed my warning. Now you listen, child.
You heed my warning. Make your husband listen
and take warning too. You leave this place. Leave
it today. Don't think I wouldn't. We wouldn't
if we could. We can't. Oh, our savings are tied
up. Oh, listen to me, listen! My dead husband
came to me again last night, and he promised
me again I'd return to this house. You love this
old house, don't you? Well, it was my life. You're
a woman, you understand how that is. Yes, I came
here a bride 40 years ago, Jason Senior, that
is. He was just starting his career as a painter.
Jason, my son, was born here. It was another
child of a little girl. She died here. Now, this
house isn't made of wood and stone. I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. Oh. Oh, I think they've come back.
Yes. My husband and Mr. Duncan are back. I'll
go then. Mrs. Gromley, I'm going to put some
coffee on. You stay. I'll have a cup. No. I can't
bear to go on looking at people who I know are
going to die. What's this? Die? Who's going to
die now? You are, Mr. Stout. You and your wife.
If you don't heed my warning and leave as soon
as possible. Now what's all this, Stout? Who
is this woman? Jessica Gormley, Houston, this
place. Oh, the woman you told me about. The one
who claims her husband's ghost visits her. I
don't just claim it, it's true. Who are you?
My name's Michael Duncan. Ah, yes, yes. The one
whose wife went to her death in the gorge last
night. Well, you take my advice too. You leave
here, leave as fast as you can. How about a drink,
Stout? Oh, so you too won't listen. The ghost
driver killed your... and yet you won't listen.
Let me warn you once and for all. Who's that?
For someone I haven't even met. It's Mike Duncan.
He and his wife are to be my first guests. for
years ever since my father died and I always
win or lose depending on how you look out and
how do you look at it Jason I give it to you
straight mr. stuff I want to lose for years now
I picked up the gun like this oh no not every
day maybe once a week once every other week I
deliberately fired that bullet I had in this
gun was to find out if the thing was a dud. It
wasn't. Too bad. May I shake your hand, Mr. Duncan?
You're the first man I've ever met who says what
he thinks. You want to kill yourself, go ahead.
I like you. You do speak your mind. And now,
gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get
back to this painting of mine. crashing through
the bridge, the oncoming ghost car with the skeleton
at the wheel, all in flaming color. I knock out
one an hour, I slap a frame on it, and I sell
it in Manitou for 20 bucks. So excuse me, will
you? Business is gonna pick up, thanks to last
night, and I wanna be ready to supply the demand.
Funny But that isn't what I'm thinking about
you're thinking about your brother and my wife
Lying in their coffins of the undertakers in
Manitou Yes So that even a small village like
Manitou has an undertaker birth death Texas the
only sureties in life, Mr. Stapp He told me about
everything. About what getting this ski resort
means to you. Your life savings invested all
that. All down the drain, I'm afraid. The publicity?
What else? Every reservation's cancelled. Well,
except one. But that'll come in due. It has,
Liz. There it is. Please cancel my reservation
for next week, Frank Norton. As a family of four.
Telegram phoned in from Aspen. the train because
somebody's playing a trick on you a murderous
trick do you think it's a trick what else could
it be a skeleton driving a ghost car what else
but a trick well what else you were in that car
last night you saw and it was a skeleton behind
the wheel of the oncoming car you told the sheriff
that you can still say that it was a trick yes
what kind of trick damn it mike you admit you
saw a skeleton driving a car but you can still
call it a trick? See, I see you don't answer.
Look, Mel, I'm a practical man, a businessman.
You think being a businessman is simple? No,
no. I've had troubles that would make yours look
like nothing. Today you won't find anybody more
successful than me. But I've been bankrupt twice,
yes, and paid off every cent. We'll do it. a
ski resort. And if you ask me, it's the Gormley's.
One or the other, or both, is behind all this.
Or that sheriff down in Manitou. The sheriff?
Oh, Mike, you don't really think that the sheriff...
I don't know what to think, Liz. All I know is
that somebody's behind this, and those are the
three likeliest suspects. Look, I'm no Sherlock
Holmes, but... Stout, would you accept Mike Duncan's
challenge? If you were Liz Stout would you let
your husband accept it? It can mean his death,
you know. What exactly would you do? I'll be
back shortly. driving the twisting precipitous
mountain road that leads to Gormley Lodge. One,
Mike Duncan, believes that the ghost driver they
hope to meet is nothing but a trick. Mel Stout,
his life savings, every penny at stake, has had
no choice but to go along. Mike, I'm bushed.
Let's make this the last trip. We're gonna drive
up and down this road till dawn. Yes, and night
after night. This is the sixth time we've been
up and down this mountain road. Rory driving
the other car. It's impossible. Rory's dead.
We're burying him tomorrow. Rory's dead, that's
for sure. But it was Rory driving that car. That's
for sure too. Then ghosts do exist? Now? That's
right. After the funeral tomorrow. Let's get
out of here. Let's go away from this place as
fast as we can. about every penny I had. Would
a loan help? You'd be willing to? Well, sure.
I like you two, and well, the way things turned
out, we've gotten to know each other real fast,
actively friends. So, well, if you can use a
loan. That's generous of you, Mike. It is, it
is generous of you, Mike, and I appreciate it,
but... I feel that I saw somewhere but didn't
pay much attention to at the time. Well, what
about it? This something. It's just something
as bothering me as all. Something that just could
give me the answer to all of this. Well, good
luck. You deserve it. Oh, there's the taxi that's
going to take me to the airport. Goodbye, Liz.
Goodbye, Mike. Goodbye, Mike. Mel, you better
know it now. No matter what you intend to do,
I won't be staying. Mel, we've got to face the
facts. Buying this place was a big mistake. I
admit it now. But there's no sense in crying
over spilt milk. What's done is done. So, darling,
let's just... on it, walk away from it, and start
again. Start what again? The treadmill of office
work? The dreary day -to -day monotony of auditing
accounts, toting up figures? I can't bear to
go back to that kind of life. I have got to make
a cool of this. I don't have any other choice.
But is it worth your life? Ghost or no ghost,
Mel, it's killed four people. It would have been
six of you and Mike Duncan hadn't been lucky
enough to hit that stanchion. if you insist on
driving that road again tonight. Six? How do
you make it six? You don't think I'm gonna let
you do it alone, do you? But at the funeral,
you said that you weren't even gonna stay. Because
I hope that would change your mind, but it hasn't.
So you see, I have no choice either. It's just
like last night with Mike. top of the mountain,
down a man or two, then back up again and again
and no sign of him. But he did show, finally.
And Mike lost his nerve, swerved aside at the
last second. Let's hope I don't lose mine. Will
it matter? What do you mean? If you lose your
nerve, we'll go off the bridge. If you don't,
and the ghost car isn't a ghost car, we'll be
killed in the crash. If there is a crash, but
there won't be. I'm awfully sure of that. I am.
Remember at the cemetery I told Mike there was
something I had seen but hadn't paid any attention
to? Yes. And if I could only remember what it
was, I'd have the answer to all of this? Yes.
Well, it's come to me. Climbing up and down the
mountain tonight, it suddenly came to me. See,
it wasn't something I'd seen, it was something
I'd heard and paid no attention to. Something
I knew but didn't realize what it meant. And
if I'm right, Liz, if I'm right... Did you remember?
We're on the bridge now, let me concentrate on
driving. I know you would. How? How did you know?
Later Liz. Right now we better get up to the
lodge and phone the sheriff. Oh. Oh. Come in
Mrs. Gormley. Mel? Mrs. Gormley's here. Please,
won't you sit? Sit down. Yeah, thank you. Hello,
Mrs. Gormley. I'm sorry about last night. I'm
not. Mrs. Gormley, Jason was your son. Oh, he
was the torment of my life every day I lived.
Of course, I'm sorry he's dead, but I can only
be glad it's over for me. Did you know that your
son was the ghost driver? Twice. But I was never
sure. You see, it was Jason who wanted to go
on living here in this house far more than I
did. Oh, you can understand. He was born here.
He grew up here. Started this painting career
here in a fine, big studio upstairs. Tragic.
Just tragic. Even more tragic if it hadn't been
for you. How did you come to know? What made
you realize that my son was the ghost driver?
A gunshot. A gunshot? The shot he fired to see
whether the bullet he used for playing Russian
roulette was live or not. I don't talk to you.
You see, something kept bugging me, Mrs. Gormy,
but I couldn't nail it down because I kept thinking
it was something that I'd seen. But then suddenly
I realized it wasn't something I'd seen, but
something I'd heard. That gunshot. It got me
to thinking about Jason playing Russian Roulette,
playing with life and death. And that got me
to thinking a step further. Sure, Russian Roulette,
only a fool or a would -be suicide would play
it. But the fact remains that the odds are in
his favor. Every time Jason spun the barrel of
that gun and pulled the trigger, Chances were
five to one against firing the bullet. But what
was the connection between that and the ghost
driver? Driving a car straight at another car
is just another form of Russian roulette. Ah,
yes, I see. Well, Sheriff Harper came to see
me, and he said Jason was wearing a mask, a paper
mache mask of your brother's face. Yes, and it
wasn't a very good likeness of my brother. But
it didn't have to be. It looked enough like him
to fool you when you saw it under those awful
conditions. The night and the headlights and
the car coming straight at you. Fear did the
rest. There must be another mask with skeleton
face. Oh, there is. We searched the studio and
we found it, Sheriff Harper and me. Yeah, well,
it's all over. Jason's at peace at last. God
knows I soon shall be. Well, good day. It's funny,
though. What, Mrs. Gormley? Well, we've searched
and we've searched, but we couldn't find a mask
of my husband's face. What made you think there
was one? Well, you see, when I heard about the
masks, I thought it must have been Jason who
came and... stood at the foot of my bed, not
my husband's ghost. But if it wasn't Jason, who
was it? What was it? An interesting question.
What was it indeed? Makes you wonder, does the
spirit live on? Are there such things as ghosts?
Think about it. I'll be back shortly. I think
you'll be glad to know that Mel and Liz made
a go of Gaumbly Lodge and are today the owners
of a successful ski resort. Old Mrs. Gormley
passed on a few years ago. When the guest cottage
was renovated, a really thorough search was made
for that mask of Jason Senior's face. But no
sign of it was ever found. Curious. Very. Our
cast included Augusta Dabney, Mason Adams, Mary
Jane Higby, Norman Rose, Nick Pryor, and Leon
Gianni. The entire production was under the direction
of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next
tale. As we moved into that parlor, I was super
-conscious of my host's reaction to the parcel
he bore in his hands. Although there was no superscription
from the sender, I had an infallible feeling
that he sensed exactly where it had come from.
that somehow I was accidentally part of a climax
in the life of this strange and vital man. We've
talked about my trophies, Monsieur Donné. Yes.
The ones I've mounted, the others too clumsy
and large to render that way. Yes. And the third
so far I've had no right, no courage to mount.
What are you saying, Sir John? There is no reason
for my receiving this parcel. that I can conceive
except one. That I've found no refuge here. I've
been betrayed. This is E .G. Marshall inviting
you to return to our Mystery Theater for another
adventure in the Macabre. Until next time, pleasant
dreams.