Come in. Welcome. I'm E .G. Marshall. Welcome
to the world of terrifying imagination, to the
fear you can hear. There is a green land called
the Emerald Isle, where stardust dapples shining
lakes that sparkle against blue mountains which
fall away to winding bays. But there are darker
sides to Ireland currents that run deep a wasting
bitter civil war in the north and everywhere
lurking behind the shamrock and beneath the laughter
a dark world of legend of banshees and warlocks
of voices on the wind against which the traveler
should stop his ears or the sound Of the death
bell. Well, if you won't read the tea leaves
for Brian, she'll at least give a look at his
palm. Oh, whist, Denny. No, no, come on, cousin
-in -law. I claim a visitor's privilege. What's
the sense of a long trip to Arendt to visit family
if I don't get some special treatment? Which
hand? Denny, I really... Oh, she's only shy.
You're right -handed, aren't you, Brian? Yes.
The left hand is what God gave you. Here. How's
it look? You were well rewarded. And the other
hand? That's the one which shows what you make
of the gifts God gave you. And? Holy Mary herself.
Didn't I know it? It's a hand I won't... I can't
read. It is marked by the shadow of death. Our
mystery drama, The Death Bell, was written especially
for the Mystery Theatre by Ian Martin and stars
Michael Tolan. Since time immemorial, man has
sought to trace the future in the lines of the
palm. Can it be read there? Can a future be read
from the stars, or from tarot cards, or in a
crystal ball? The best answer always is, if you
truly believe. As in spite of herself, it would
appear that Sheila Doyle does. The moment I clapped
eyes on Denny's cousin from the States, Brian
Macken, there was a bogal tugging at my skirts.
And the one look in his hand ran the blood in
me cold, for I never saw a shadow planer. Brian?
Hmm? Oh, yes, Denny. Well... What are you doing
over by the window? I'm trying to see where that
bell came from. What bell? It's been ringing
ever since you went up with Sheila, don't you?
Well, that's funny. What? It stopped. You didn't
hear it? Nope. Well, maybe you're just used to
it. Don't you have some kind of a bell around
here? Well, the church? No, no, not a church
bell. Something much smaller like... On an animal,
maybe. Well, there aren't any animals around.
Well, maybe I'm just hearing things after that
scare Sheila threw into... Oh, look, Brian, I'm
sorry about that. Sheila... Well, Sheila's as
level -headed as they come about everything except
some of the old country superstitions. She wasn't
kidding, you know. She really believes in a lot
of this. Well, forget it, Denny. I'm not worried
about me. I was only concerned about Sheila.
She looked... all shook up. Oh, she was embarrassed.
I think she felt she'd made a fool of herself.
I don't think she'll be able to face you again
tonight, but by morning she'll cook you a breakfast
that'll stick to your ribs. You are gonna stay,
huh? Oh, I can take the car and run down to the
local inn. No, sir, no, sir. Not on your life.
My cousin comes all the way from the States.
I don't let you get away till we do some catching
up. Catching up? Yes. I want to hear all about
your wife. My wife? Yes. Sheila and I are so
sorry she didn't come along with you. She, uh,
she wasn't feeling herself at the last moment.
Yes, I know, so you said. You see, this isn't
so much a trip. It's more a sort of pilgrimage.
A what? I want to find Carrie Kleiner. I want
to see it for myself. If it exists. What do you
mean? Well, Brian, I always understood it was
just a family legend. You mean to say you've
been here in Ireland now for three years, and
you haven't tried to look it up? Man, it's near
250 miles from here, and I haven't a car. Anyways,
it wasn't my side of the family. Well, it was
mine. Or should have been. At the very least,
from my mother's side. You know that. Well, I
honestly don't. All I know is that my mother
used to ramble on when she got older about how
there was royalty in the blood somewhere far
back, and the ancestors lived in a castle in
the north. Carrigg Claynor. It was a castle.
The Carrigs were set to be in the direct line
of descent from Brian Boru himself. And it was
a family custom to name the residence for the
family name and for the wife who reigned over
it. My great -great -grandmother, Clayna, was
married to the last of the line, Lord Carrig.
Your great -great -grandfather? That's one of
the things I'd like to find out. See, I think
he was. You think? Lord Carrig didn't. He killed
Clayna. And through the man he said was her lover
from the balcony over the sea to be smashed to
death on the rocks below. And he sent my great
-grandfather to be brought up by his wife's family,
the Mackens. Your great -grandfather? You mean
Carrick's son? He refused to recognize him. Claimed
he was illegitimate. Ah, I see, I see. Well,
now look, looking for an old lost castle is as
good a way as any of spending a vacation. You'll
get a chance to see a good bit of Ireland on
the way. Now come on, let's go get your bag out
of the car and I'll show you to your room. For
the first time in our marriage, I found myself
getting a little annoyed with Sheila as I walked
Brian to the car. There was that vague kind of
family connection between us, you write off as
cousins, but mostly what we were was old friends
and classmates. Now with Sheila's superstitions
jogging my imagination, I was uneasy with Brian.
A feeling, thank the Lord, that a few minutes
in the soft Irish night blew away. Oh, it's good
to be alive on a night like this. It makes me
think of... What, Brian? Commencement. The end
of the term, anyway. Or after the last ball game
of the season. Tired, but loose, you remember?
Well, for pitchers, maybe. Catchers with old
football knees took longer to unwind. Well, so,
how's the old rat race? Advertising? Oh, it still
goes round and round. Hamsters on a cage wheel.
How's the writing? Slow, slow, but sure. And
I make an honest buck cutting peat to keep myself
in shape. You're a happy man. Ah, what more could
I ask for? Wait till you see your namesake tomorrow.
Little Brian, how soon will he be two? About
the time his little sister comes to join him,
six months or so. Oh, hey, you're having another?
Yes. Well, that's... that's solid, man. It's
solid. Well, you know I always like kids. Nothing
like having your own, though. And how about you,
senior citizen? What does that mean? Well, you
have been married longer than Sheila and me.
When are you and Gloria gonna have yours? As
a matter of fact, Gloria got pregnant seven months
ago. Oh, and you're trying to keep it secret.
So that's why she didn't come along, huh? That's
one of the reasons. But come on, I can't keep
you away from your wife any longer. Here, just
let me... Get my gear and we can hit the south.
Oh, there's no hurry, no hurry. For my money,
we could sit up all night and shoot the breeze.
Well, let it suit me if I didn't have a long
journey ahead of me tomorrow. Oh, I see. You're
still determined to go chasing rainbows. I heard
the door close when they left the house. And
had gone to the window to watch Denny and Brian
talk at the car. I couldn't hear the words. But
at least Brian's arms slung around Denny's shoulder
eased my mind enough to make me go to bed. Still
and all, even with the soothing sound of their
voices rumbling below and their laughter, it
was long before I fell into an uneasy sleep.
Oh, I... Denny? Ah, I'm sorry. Shh, Sheila, shh.
Darling, go to sleep. It's all right. I was half
-onto waking. Turn the light on. No need, no
need. I'm all undressed. Just come into bed.
And did you get Brian settled? Ah, you see, he's
snoring already. By the time I closed up and
looked in on little Brian, he was dead to the
world. Darling, what's wrong? Hmm? You shivered.
Oh, it was maybe a hair limped over my grave.
Hold me. Who needs to be asked? Sheila, you're
wrong about Brian. What way? We've had a long
talk, just like old times. I never felt closer
to him. Well, I know you've missed him since
you came away here. We were always more like
brothers than cousins. Well, I'm not saying he
isn't tense and all wound up, but that's old
stuff to me, Akushla. Oh, you're making to be
a real Irishman again. Well, next to you because
of you, and grateful I am. Are you for real,
Danny? Don't you know? Oh, Sheila. I used to
be all tied up in knots like Brian, and that's
all it is, you see. Well, I hope you're right.
You haven't heard the best news yet. What? Well,
you're not the only one that's carrying a heart
beneath your own. Gloria's expecting. Brian's
wife? When? Before you. That's why she didn't
come along this trip. Well, that's good news,
Jenny. I want to be happy for your friend, dear.
cousin, your brother, almost. Well, so you can
be. You can be. Sheila, what did you think you
saw in Brian's palm? Don't ask me. First of all,
because I have no words to tell you, and second,
I'm praying to sweet Mary to forgive me, for
I'm hoping it was himself who's only given me
a warning not to meddle in the Lord's business.
The night is quiet outside, except for the tinkle
of that far -off bell. There's a kind of peace.
I had to stop here with Denny, touch normal life,
if only for a moment. I will not think back,
and tomorrow must wait till I find it. I know
what it will bring to so many people. I wonder
what it will bring to me, Brian Mackin. The last...
The only thing I hear is the bell, lulling me
to sleep. Well, that does it. All set for the
road. Oh, I wish you didn't have to go so soon.
So do I. Will you stop by, then, to see us on
your way back? I don't know if I'll be coming
this way, Sheila. Oh, try. Try to make it. And
Brian. Yes? The farther north you get, particularly
beyond Sligo, hug the coastline all the way.
Please, don't go near the border. I'll stir you
made. There's still a lot of trouble. I wish
you'd forget the whole thing. Except I won't.
Well, man, it's like looking for a needle in
a haystack. And if there ever was a Carrie Kleiner,
it's probably nothing but ruins by now. If there
ever was one, I'll find it. And I think I will.
And if you should, what would it prove? I don't
know. Goodbye, Brian. Come again. I'll try. Bye,
Danny, old pal. I'll only say au revoir. And
it's glad I am to have met you and... And forgive
me for last night. The gypsy's warning? I don't
know what came over me. Think nothing of it.
Well, so long, Charmin. Drive carefully. I hope
you had a good night's sleep. With the good company
and the good air, what else? Even the little
bell I finally got used to. And off I went like
a log. So here goes. Hail and farewell. What
was that about a bell, Denny? Search me, my warning.
When I came downstairs last night after I took
you up to bed, Brian was by the window. He insisted
he could hear a little bell ringing somewhere,
but I couldn't hear it. What kind of a bell was
that? Like it was on an animal, he said. Not
like a cow, but more, say, like a goat. The Lord
and all his saints be praised. What is it, Sheila?
We should call him back. He should get out of
Ireland. What are you getting all riled up about
now, honey? I told you he was holding the shadow
of death in his palm. Now I know I made no mistake.
There's no bell in this town he could have heard
like you said. Except one. What? What? The one
that's only heard by him it sounds for, and I
know it for sure. Twas the death bell. Old age
is dark, and I heard the death bell, and I dare
not go out for gold or for fee. So runs the old
Gaelic folk belief that death sounds the warning
of his coming by a ringing in the ears. Is Brian
Mackin really marked for death? And if so, how
soon? And how? We will return shortly with Act
Two. 250 miles is a short day's drive, as we
reckon it, in the good old U .S. of A. But through
the length of Ireland, stopping more and more
in the last 50 miles to ask the still unanswered
question, do you know of a castle in these parts
called Carrickleyna? It's a long, long trip that
at last has brought Brian Mackin to a little
bridge across a valley stream. Stopping there
to eat the lunch Sheila put up for him before
he left, he has scarcely finished it as twilight
falls then as he doses for a moment back against
a tree pull him up pull him up hold on hold on
don't get thrown oh boy oh easy easy hold up
there pull there pull there hold up all right
easy boy easy Are you all right, ma 'am? Yes,
and I'm much beholden to you, sir. Well, it's
my pleasure. What happened? Well, something frightened
my horse. I lost control. May I have the reins,
sir? All right, now, stay, boy, stay. There,
here you are. Thank you, mister. Brian Mackin.
How do you do? I am the Lady Clayna Carrick.
What? I said I'm Lady Carrick. Of Carrie Clayna?
Well, naturally. Then it does exist. I should
hope so. I was just on my way home. Where? Where
is it? Just across the bridge and over the hill.
Now that I've regained my composure. By my soul,
you do look familiar. I didn't catch your name.
Brian. Brian Mackin. Oh, no. No! You must be
mad to try to intercept me here. Run, Brian!
Run for your life! Wait a minute. Wait a minute,
my lady. If you value your life, stay away from
me. I am frozen at her sudden flight. Then, suddenly,
I find myself running after her, laboring for
breath over the last burst to the crest of the
hill. Oh, damn, the light going. But where? Where?
She couldn't have just... disappeared into...
into thin air. But she had. In the lowering darkness,
I can see the long sweep of the countryside down
to the rocks and sea cliffs, and there is no
sign of horse or rider, or of any destination
they might be bound for, nor any road for a horse
to follow, much less my modern car. For the moment,
I realize I must return to my car. and seek some
lodging for the night. Danny, is that you? Well,
who else were you expecting, Sheila? Oh, darling,
I'm that glad to see you. It's late, you are.
Oh, we cut a few extra squares tonight as long
as the light was with us. Here, here, what is
it, little bird? You're all a flutter. It's Brian's
on my mind. Oh, you'll laugh at me again, I suppose.
But as I was laying our little one down with
the sun just gone over the hill, I thought I
heard him calling, Kleena, Kleena. Oh, now, Sheila,
I... What's got into you? I wish I knew. I only
know somehow we should never have let Brian go
off to the north. Something terrible is going
to happen to him. And if there is, what could
we do to stop it? Well, we should try. Would
you have me follow him on Shanks, Mayor? How
fast do you think I could walk it? You could
borrow the McFadden's car or Seamus' motorcycle.
And if I did, where would I head for? Oh, don't
fault me, darling, or make me the fool. It's
just a feeling comes over me and I can't help
it. I want to be wrong. I hope I'm wrong. Sheila,
now please, please stop worrying about Brian.
If anyone ever knew how to take care of himself,
that's the guy. I said it with authority because
I meant it, or I thought I meant it, or I tried
to mean it because I wanted to reassure Sheila.
The truth is, I was shaken again. I'd been three
years living in Ireland, long enough to fall
under all of her spells, even the black ones,
and I'd have given anything to know where Brian
was at at that moment, and what he was doing.
Excuse me, gentlemen. Sorry. Clothes and time
is posted. I wasn't... I wasn't looking for a
drink as much as I was for accommodations tonight.
Well, now, as to that... I'm willing to pay well
for it. An American, is it? Well, for that much,
I suppose we could be after finding your room
and a bite to soup. And perhaps a little information?
We're not for doing much talking around these
parts, in particular to strangers. What would
you want to know? Well, something very simple,
I hope. Would either of you know where I could
find a place called Carrie Kleiner? Carrie Kleiner?
We should know. What will be after bringing her
to these parts looking for the likes of Carrie
Kleiner? Well, till late this afternoon, only
a dim hope of finding it after all these years.
For private reasons. Oh, and what would the private
reasons be? Family ones. My great -grandfather
was born there. Who was he now? And what was
it that late this afternoon gave you the good
hope of finding Carrie Cleaner? I ran into someone
who lives there. Who lives there? Patty? Will
you hold your tongue, Mick? And who would you
have met that said they was from the castle?
A very beautiful woman. A girl, actually, who
said she was the Lady Cleaner Carrie. Oh, the
Lord and his saints preserve us. The Lady Cleaner.
Where was this then? five miles or so north of
here. There's a road that goes winding down to
a little bridge and then goes up a rise on the
other side, but sort of... sort of peters out.
Ah, that's the old bali brig across the Scalinore.
Did you drive your car across that bridge? No,
I stopped this side of it because the going was
getting so rough. Sure, it's lucky you didn't
drive on it. It might have carried away with
you. That bridge has been condemned for anything
but foot travel as long as I can remember. But
why? Because it doesn't lead to anywhere anymore.
It leads to Carrie Kleiner somehow. How would
you know that? Because the lady was bound for
there on her horse. Huh? Was it a big bay mare
with a mane as white as snow? Yes, that's the
one. And the woman? How was she dressed? Why,
she, uh... She was in sort of a green velvet
dress with a big hat. Like an old -fashioned
riding habit, you'd say. Oh, Mary bless us. And
the good Lord save us all. Old -fashioned it
is for sure where the lady cleaner has been dead
these hundred years and more No, no this this
was a young woman. She was only passed her 21st
year when she died That was no real woman. You
saw this afternoon stranger That was her ghost,
but I talked to her did you know then? What you
saw was never real and you can take that as gospel
Well, perhaps. I hadn't eaten all day and I did
take a nap under a tree. And it was twilight,
when all fancies begin. We'll let it go at that
anyway. But, carry cleaner, is that just fancy
too? We'll know as to that. Must you always put
your oar in, Mick? I'm talking to the gentleman
here, Mr... Macken. Brian Macken. That is a good
Irish name. I mentioned that my family came from
Ireland. So you did. And at least you've had
the sense God gave you to come back. I'm Paddy
Flynn, and the little runt here is Mickey Mahan.
The top of the evening to you. Is it back you
are to stay, Mr. Markin? That depends on what
I find at Kerry Claynor. It's little you'll find
there. Deserted and empty, and blown by the winds
for a century. It's not but a ruin. Not worth
the effort to go by it. And sometimes at nightfall,
there's a woman's voice that'll call, come away,
come away, and you'll be tied the man who listens.
Well, just the same, I want to see Carrie Kleiner.
Can you guide me there? Not by night. I wouldn't
stir out by night for all the gold in a leprechaun's
hoard. Maybe tomorrow. We'll see. Yeah, it's
time we were all to bed. Come. I'll show you
your room, Mr. Mackin. Do you think he's from
the police? I don't think so, but I'm taking
the chances. Sure, and what are you doing there?
I'm making Mr. Mackin a little nightcap, as he
requested. Only it will be a little stronger
than he expected. Ah, how is that, Paddy? Sure,
I'm giving him a little extra dividend. Your
namesake, as you might say. Who would that be
at all? Mickey... Pin. I never heard tal of him.
Well, no. That's because he emigrated to Chicago,
USA, long before your time and mine. But he gave
his name to what's in this little bottle here.
Well, looks like. no more than bog water. It'll
make your sleep a dear sounder. Now then, you'll
take this drink up to him whilst I go arrange
for the truck. It is a good thing we have a full
moon to work with this night. To work? Isn't
it obvious the guns are no longer safe at Carrie
Kleiner? We'll have to have them up on the way
over the border by morning. Before our American
gets to knowsin' about... Wish we're not goin'
by the castle by the dead of night. How else?
But she'll be walkin' again by the full moon.
You heard Mr. Mackin saw her abroad in scarce
before dark. What kind of soldier are you, Mick,
that starts at shadows? Now, let's have no more
nonsense out of ya. And away up with a drink
to Mr. Mackin. I look at my watch. It's just
after midnight. The nightcap is untasted on the
table beside my bed. I don't trust it. I don't
trust a lot of things. But where to get rid of
it? A vagrant memory drifts across my mind of
jokes among old country people. A quick look
under the bed, and there is the receptacle. It's
a matter of a moment to empty the glass in it.
And none too soon, I can hear stealthy footsteps
approaching. Don't use the kashmik unless there's
trouble. If there is, I'll put him to sleep myself.
Mr. Mackin? Mr. Mackin? I think he's away. Follow
me. Ah, he's dead to the world. We'll check that
out. He's drunk it. Will it keep him quiet long
enough? Eight to ten hours. And even when he
wakes, he'll not want to leave his bed. Now come
away, man. We've much to do. Lying on my bed,
snoring, pretending to be asleep, I have listened
to everything. But the fall of that heavy lock
tells me once and for all. I am a prisoner. But
as I wait for them to leave the house, I know
that nothing will keep me from Carrie Kleiner.
I have an appointment there that's been waiting
a hundred years. And even now, in the still of
the night, I can hear the far -off tinkle of
that bell and a voice crying. Two sounds tempt
Brian Mackin to venture into a night made bright
by moonlight, but shadowed by dangers, both physical
and supernatural. What draws this man inexorably
to an appointment with the past? Is the death
that Sheila foresaw in his hand something that
he seeks, or fails to realize, approaches? I
will return shortly with Act 3. What is this
man, Brian Mackin? 28, successful advertising
man. What drives him to leave his wife in the
seventh month of their first child? to make a
confessed pilgrimage into the distant past, to
a land foreign to him in every way except by
extraction, generations back. Where is he headed?
And why? I stand by the window, carefully on
the side where the moonlight cannot cast my shadow,
and watch the courtyard of the inn below. A small
truck like a weapons carrier is there, and Patty
and Mick climb into it. In a moment it has gone
to a destination I can only guess. By the time
I am out the window, clambering to the courtyard
and into my car, there is no hope of following.
Particularly when I find my distributor cap gone
and my car useless. It's a long, agonizing walk
for five miles, even on a moonlit night. And
by the time I have crossed the bridge and climbed
to the ridge above, I am at the ragged edge of
exhaustion. But there is a reward. Far below,
against the restless sea, there are pinpoints
of light that move. I am near the end of my pilgrimage,
and a bell is sounding again. Danny? Danny? Oh,
boy. Well, what is it, Sheila? The phone, it's
ringing. Well, what time is it? It's half past
three in the morning. Well, who could be calling
us now? I don't know. I have been lying here
awake, afraid that something was about to happen.
Will you go down now and answer it, or shall
I? All right, all right. I'm on my way, but who?
It's Brian, or something about him. And whatever
it is, no bell that rings in the night brings
anything but ill luck. Is that the last of them?
Not by a long shot. And damn the moon. It's off
away behind the clouds again. I wish I was off
away with it. What's the matter, Mick? You afraid
a banshee'll howl you off to your grave? Well,
there's little I like at all about this night.
We're all stretching our necks across the gibbet
one way or t 'other. Well... The sooner we deliver
these guns over the border, the safer we'll be.
I wish now I'd strut away with a ship that delivered
them three days ago, and I'd be out of this and
away home. Well, you didn't. So let's have at
it and get them away from the storehouse before...
Wait a minute. Ah, what is it? By the ridge there.
The silhouette of a man. Let's get the truck
away and hidden around to the seaward side. Eh?
You take it. Give me that caution of yours. And
I'll handle whatever comes this way. Yes, Sergeant,
he was. Well, he left this morning. I mean, yesterday
morning, about nine. All I know is he was headed
somewhere north of Sligo, Galway Bay area. Yes,
he was looking for a place named Curried Claynor.
No, no, no, not at all. And please, he's a cousin
of mine and a very good friend. You will keep
us notified and let us know what's happening.
Yes, I'd appreciate that. Thank you. What is
it, Denny? What are you doing out of bed, Shield?
Who was on the phone? You said Sergeant. It was
Liam Flaherty of the police. Shield has all hell
to pay. Tell me. There was a tracer from the
States. They called the local here to get in
touch with us. Why? The police in America. They're
trying to get in touch with Brian. What has Brian
done? That isn't the point. It's what's been
done to him. What? Praise yourself, my darling.
Somebody murdered his wife. A moment ago, on
my way down the hill, I could see Carrie Clayna
full in the moon. What do they mean it's a ruin?
It was just as I pictured it. Turrets mullioned
windows with diamond -shaped glass panes, great
oak doors, and ivied granite. Now with the moon
hidden, its silhouette looms over me, reaching
out to me as I come home at... Oh, you didn't
have to hit him so hard. I wasn't taking any
chances with Mr. Mackin this time. Ah, is that
who it is? Say for yourself. How do you get over
the drink and away in here? No time to worry
about that now. You think he is police or maybe
the British? Whatever he is, we'll decide that
later. Let's get the guns off and away first.
I'm standing in front of the great door of Kariklena.
And I know that everything is going to come clear
at long last. I reach out and pull the bell.
Even the bell is familiar, although I cannot
quite place where I've heard it before. And now,
the door is opening. Good evening, Brian. We've
been waiting for you. Good evening, Your Lordship.
I'm sorry I'm late. No matter. We've just finished
dinner, and Her Ladyship is with the... the child.
Will you join me in a glass of mulled wine? That's
your pleasure. I've not seen you for some time,
and, ah, the devil. I've forgotten. I must catch
my sea captain before he leaves to send some
packets. Will you forgive me? I should not be
over two hours or so. May I hope you will attend,
milady, in my absence? I should be happy to,
except would you not rather I transmit the packages
for you on my way home? No. I must have certain
words with the shipmaster that I alone can bring.
Besides, I would not deprive Clayner of some
outside companionship. We're so isolated here,
it would be cruel to deny her a new face to brighten
her solitude. The hour is late. Perhaps it would
be better... No, no, I won't hear of it. You
shall be our guest for the night, and I shall
be back post -haste. I'll try to make it in as
close to two hours as possible. Meanwhile, make
yourself completely at home. I am in a dream,
I suppose. For by my host's clothes, the speech,
a calendar I find on the wall, I am back in the
past over a hundred years. But more important,
I am within the walls of Carrigg Claynor. And
the riddle of my whole life, I feel, is near
to being solved. When Lord Carrigg leaves, I
am too impatient to wait for my answers. So I
climb the great staircase to Kleiner's bedroom
and knock on the door. Who is it? Brian! A moment.
What are you doing here? I grew tired of waiting
for you to come down. My husband, he's gone.
Lord Carrick has ridden to town. It will be two
hours before he returns. May I come in? I shouldn't
let you. It's too late. I thought you'd left
for good two years ago. When I lost you to him,
I meant to. But for a while I stayed hiding in
the fen. Oh, I know you were seen. Do you know
what you've done to me? And why do you come back
now? I wanted to see the boy. By what right?
He... Is he mine, Kleiner? I have to know. Is
he mine? No. You called him by my name. It was
a foolish choice. Why? Because I loved you. And
now? Oh, Brian. The years have come and gone.
Lord Carrick is my husband and the father of
my child. And I have a whole new life I've learned
to accept. I still want to know if the child
is mine. Let me go. When you answer me. How could
it be yours? He was born ten months after I married
Lord Carrick. Then why does everyone whisper
he's mine? Because you didn't leave as you promised.
Why didn't you take yourself right out of my
life? But there was nothing between us after
your marriage. We know that, but no one else
believes it. They still think the child is mine.
Even Lord Carrick. I can't imagine why he could
have welcomed you here tonight. I can't tell
you how he... Wait a minute. What is it? Ash.
Dear God, he's here. He'll kill me. Over my dead
body. And here it is. The moment I've reached
back through a century for. The one I want to
change. It's today I want to bring back. And
Gloria and my own child that I killed in one
moment of anger and hate as Lord Carrick plans
to do with me and Kleiner now. I have only one
chance of bringing Gloria back. To change history.
Or at least to set it right. He's coming up the
outside balcony stairs. Through the French windows.
Ron Bryan, he'll kill me if he finds you here.
I'll kill him first for doubting you. In heaven's
name, no! Lord Carrig, hold. So once again you
try to steal my wife. Put up your dagger. I am
unarmed. So much the better. You first and then
my wife. This time not so easily. I'm not the
hunted but the hunter. Look through yourself!
He stands with his dagger half raised, frozen
with inaction as I hurtle myself towards him,
hands raised to shield and grapple and destroy
him. But what I reach for is nothing but a shade.
My outstretched hands grasp only air, and my
hurtling body passing through his spectral waist
crashes full tilt against the crumbling battlement,
which gives way like powder. And of a sudden,
just like the lover in the ancient legend, I
am plummeting like today's skydiver towards the
rocks below. And in this awful moment, I know
that I was just as wrong about my wife, Gloria,
as Lord Carrig was a hundred years ago about
Kleena. Small comfort now to know that I am legitimate,
as the rocks below rush up towards me like an
express train, and I am no more. ready, Sheila?
In a moment. What is it, darling? A bell. I don't
know if I ever want to hear a bell in my life
again. That's only the church bell. We didn't
ever hear the other one. What happened to him,
Denny? Oh, I'd have to be God to answer that.
He snapped, the way a lot of us do when life
spins us around too fast and curdles our brains.
Why do you think I ran away from it all and...
And came here to find peace Brian really killed
Gloria. He'd had a nervous breakdown two months
ago He escaped from the sanitarium his obsession
about paternity had put him there and Gloria
was asking for a divorce He lost his head She
lost her life, but how did he think he could
escape by coming here? I don't think he was looking
for escape but oh I No, it's such a writer's
word, but expiation. Are you saying then he was
after taking his own life? We'll never know,
Sheila. The police say there's some evidence
that the IRA were using Carrie Kleiner as a depot
for smuggled arms from the sea. Maybe he stumbled
on them. The local folk would tell you that anyone
in that haunted castle after dark, especially
when the moon was full, was risking God knows
what. And someone I know. Very dearly sensed
he was marked by fate for death. Ah, don't. I
wouldn't wish that on anyone. Perhaps for Brian
Mackent was the only way. Let's us go give him
a decent burial and wish him peace at last. A
tortured man who borrowed a century -old sorrow
and carried it on his back like the old man of
the sea. Small wonder he broke eventually under
the senseless strain and ran amok. A man to be
censured, but also to be pitied. A man for whom
the death bell sounded. Let his epitaph be John
Dunn's, lest you stop to criticize too harshly.
Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for
thee. I'll be back shortly. There does stand,
facing across the Atlantic to America, what once
was a proud castle named Carrick Claynor. True
enough, shortly after Brian Mackin's death, it
was discovered that the cellar had been used
for extensive gun running and as a munition dump.
And two months after Brian died there, a mysterious
explosion tumbled the rest of the castle into
the sea, including the bodies of two smugglers
later identified as Patty Flynn and McMahan.
Since in the police view they were prime suspects
on Brian Mackin's death, that closed the file,
which had been titled for convenience, Carrig
Clena. Our cast included Michael Tolan, Marion
Seldes, William Redfield, and Guy Sorrell. The
entire production was under the direction of
Hyman Brown. This is E .G. Marshall inviting
you to return to our mystery theater for another
adventure in the macabre. Until next time, pleasant
dreams.