The CBS Radio Mystery Theater presents... Come
in. Welcome. I'm E .G. Marshall. Enter our mansion
of mystery. And it's mystery we have in store
for you today in a house nestled in the pleasant
English countryside. The house we are to visit
is not a brooding castle, nor is it set on one
of those windy and cheerless moors that Britain
is so famous for. It's a modest two -story cottage,
high on a rise that overlooks the tiny hamlet
of Salford below. The residents of the town give
it a wide berth. Even though no one has lived
in it for more than two years, and two young
men who rented it discovered why. What the devil
is that noise, Mark? It sounds as though it's
coming from up there. Look! I see it, but I don't
believe it! A rat! It's as big as a tabby cat!
Look at the eyes, Brian. Look at the eyes. Our
mystery drama, The Judge's House, is based on
a story by Bram Stoker and was written especially
for the radio mystery theater by Bob Juren. It
stars Gordon Gould and Lloyd Batista. I'll return
shortly with Act One. Picturesque English country
houses have been immortalized in paintings and
photographs, particularly in travel posters luring
visitors to jolly old England. Often, though,
a house that looks so quaint from the outside
can harbor strange vibrations inside, particularly
when they take on the characteristics of the
owner. Such was the judge's house. But we'll
arrive there shortly. Let Mark Mason, a young
American in England, tell us what happened. I
often wonder how things might have turned out
if I hadn't gone to England that spring of 69.
I wouldn't have these nightmares that have haunted
me over the years. I went to England at the invitation
of Brian Stokes, a fellow I met when we were
both doing graduate work at Stanford University,
California. We planned to write a monograph together
on abnormal psychology, and he suggested I join
him in England for the two months we thought
it would take to write it. We were both filled
with excitement the day I arrived at his tiny
flat in Liverpool. Mark! It's great to see you
again. What a time we'll have. Oh, I can't wait
to see the Liverpool sights. Oh, we won't be
working here, Mark. Too many distractions. I've
rented a cottage at Salford. Complete privacy,
the agent said. Hasn't been lived in for two
years, but he said he'd clean it up a bit. Got
it for a song. You look disappointed. Where is
the Salford? About a hundred kilometers east
of the city. Lovely village. Quiet and remote.
Just what we need to work. When do we start?
We'll motor up Saturday. So that leaves us two
days here to make a tourist out of you. Freshen
up and we'll take in some of the nightlife you've
always been chasing after. There'll be precious
little in Salford, I'm afraid. This is it. Charming
little place, don't you think? Oh, it's like
every picture of an English cottage I've ever
seen. All it needs is the hollyhocks. A bit early
for those yet. I'm dying to see inside. You mean
you haven't seen inside? The front was enough
to convince me. Besides, the agent assured me
it was just what we'd want. Hello? I think that's
him coming out the front door. Hello! I see you
made it all right. Come on, Mark. Let's go in.
Made good time from Liverpool. Didn't expect
you till after four. Roads were good. This is
my friend from the USA, Mark Mason. Mr. Sheffield.
How'd you do? Nice to meet you. Place is all
tight and tidy. I had a warning straightening
up the past two days, and I lit a fire for you.
Makes things a bit cheery. Very thoughtful. What
is that on the roof? A bell tower? Oh, yes. Yes,
the bell's still there, as a matter of fact.
Here we go now. Furniture's a bit stodgy, but
serviceable. Ooh, that's some fireplace. Must
be eight feet across. Nine, to be exact. I had
a good supply of wood put round back. You'll
need it. It couldn't be better. And look, this
must be the bell rope. That's what it is. It's
attached through that hole in the ceiling and
up to the tower. Well, let's give it a try. No,
no, don't. Something the matter? It, uh, might
startle the village. Oh, is that bad? They're
a bit superstitious, you know. The villagers
are afraid of this house. At one time, it belonged
to a judge, Harrison Schelling. There he is,
in that portrait over the fireplace. Have you
heard of him? Schelling. Schelling. No. Was he
famous? Infamous is the word. He was known as
the Hanging Judge. He sent more people to the
gallows than any other ten judges put together.
Oh, nice guy. He was really hated and feared.
The reason I asked you not to ring the bell is
because the judge, so the story goes, would ring
it on the day of every hanging he ordered. Ugh.
He must have been a fiend to take such delight
in such a macabre custom. Boy, he's not still
around, is he? Oh, no, no, no. He died 30 years
ago. His son was living here until he died, and
now the grandson wants to be rid of the place.
But why are the villagers still on edge? I think
very few of them were around when the old boy
was handing out his hanging orders. That's true,
but in these small villages, Mr. Mason, legend
dies hard. They all believe the judge's spirit
is still here in Salford. If that bell were to
ring, well... They might think someone was going
to die. Precisely. We won't do anything to increase
their fears by ringing the bell. He's a rather
handsome man, don't you think? In a stern sort
of way, yes. It's a good portrait. Done in his
robes, seated in a high -backed chair. Ooh, every
inch the judge. Those eyes. They pierce right
through you. There's no phone, I'm afraid, but
if you want one... Not on your life. There's
no one we'd want to call. And we don't want to
be disturbed. Oh, then I guess that's that. I
have your check for the rent, and if there's
anything you need, just pop round to my cottage.
Yes, thanks very much. We'll freshen up, then
walk into the village tonight for a bite. We
passed a nice -looking pub on the way up. Oh,
yes, Andy Maughan's place. Nothing better between
Liverpool and Manchester. Decent -looking place.
It's terrific. Looks exactly like my idea of
an English pub. And so it should. That's precisely
what it is. Ah, welcome, Gents. Ah, tight table
for two right here. Thanks. Bit of a chill tonight.
Indeed. Brandy for me? Hmm, the same. Ah, will
you be wanting to eat? Yes, later. Traveling
through, are you? No, no. We'll be staying here
for a while. We've rented the judge's house.
You what? My friend and I are working on a paper
together. We'll be living in the judge's house.
You are not serious. Oh, we know. The agent told
us about... Oh, McKenna. What does he know? Judge,
you mustn't stay up there. It's not on your life.
Well, the place suits us just fine. What did
McKenna tell you? That you all think the judge's
spirit haunts the town. Aye, we don't think,
we know. We'll be back with your brandy and a
gif and a bit of advice along with it. Everyone's
looking at us. Always that way when strangers
come in. But I guarantee they'll be staring harder
when old Andy tells them what we're up to. Makes
it more of an adventure. Flaunting superstition
right in their faces. There you are boys. Too
great news. Now, if I might just sit down a moment.
Listen, I know you don't want to hear this, but...
On the contrary, it makes our position all the
more exciting. I wouldn't make light of it, sir.
Oh, go ahead. It's true. The old fiend's spirit
still haunts the hills of Self, and we've got
proof. Really? It's been no coincidence. that
every time there's been a death in Salford for
the past two years since the house was empty,
the bell in the tower rang. Rang on the day the
person died before they died. But who'd ring
the bell? The judge, lad. The judge. He's still
up there. Mock me? Suppose it was the wind. swinging
the bell. Oh, come on now. What you take me for?
There was no wind the first time and any other
time. That first day, we all remember it. I'll
tell you, one clear morning, the bell starts
ringing and ringing. What makes you think it
was the judge's ghost? We all ran up to see who
was pulling the bell rope. Thought it might be
kids on a prank, you know. And you saw the judge?
No, no, no, no. We peered in the window and the
rope was swinging like mad and the bell was ringing
But there was nobody in the room Who else but
the ghost of the judge could have been pulling
that rope? I'll tell you there was no one there
and then someone died. Oh Oh Tally Being sick
with pneumonia for two days died that night It
was mrs. Allen Next time the bell rang, she tripped
over a cat. It had. And that was that. I guess
you'd have no reason to lie about it. I suppose
this did happen. Four times. Did anyone die without
the bell ringing? Not in the past two years.
Since the judge's son died and left the house
empty? Right. Then the bell ringing doesn't really
cause the deaths. Of course not. But how does
the old monster know when to ring it? Always
when someone is going to die. Have you thought
about going up and dismantling the bell? That
would put an end to it. If you could get a man
to go near that place. We'll be living there.
We'll have a look. You're still going to stay
there? After what I just told you? Of course.
I can't believe it. Well... I won't hang on my
conscience whatever happens to you. You don't
want to believe me? It's your business. Mark,
do you think he was pulling our leg about the
house? No, he seems serious enough. But it's
so far -fetched. Ghosts don't pull bell ropes.
I'd rather think your theory about the wind might
have some substance. Perhaps, but there's a wind
tonight and not a sound from the bell. Let's
have a look at it from inside. Now? Why not?
We have a flash. There must be a way out from
the upper floor. All right, why not? There. That
small ladder going up to the trap door. That's
got to be it. You want to go first? Here goes.
The thing's probably rusted shut by now. Hope
I can budge it. Any luck? Yes. There it goes.
Can you see it? The bell's enclosed in a housing.
Wind couldn't get at it. Not a big one either.
Looks like the dinner bell they used to ring
at prep school. Want to take off the rope and
give the villagers a break? Should I? Well, maybe
not. We better not. Brian, what are you doing?
Stop that thing! I didn't touch it! I didn't
touch it, Mark. I'm coming down. The damn thing
just started clanging. Then someone is down there
in the living room, pulling that bell rope. Someone
or something is pulling the bell rope. Certainly
not one of the villagers who hear the judge's
house. Certainly not the judge who sits in his
high back chair staring out from his portrait.
We'll go downstairs with Mark and Brian to learn
just what's going on when I return shortly with
Act Two. The bell the old judge used to ring
on execution day of victims he had sentenced.
begins to ring of its own accord, or so it seems,
for Brian, who was inspecting it, never touched
it. But two educated young men aren't taken in
by myths, superstitions, or ghosts. There's a
practical explanation for everything. Someone's
down there pulling on that bell rope. Come on!
How did anyone get in? We'll find out! This is
as crazy as the story that innkeeper told us.
The bell stopped. Look! The rope's still swinging.
Well, someone did that, Brian. He's got to be
in the house. But where could he go? It only
took us moments to come down the stairs. There's
no place for anyone to hide. Well, have you got
any ideas? No. But the villagers must be having
kittens down there. You said it. They're wondering
who's next. What the devil is that noise? It
sounds as though it's coming from up there. Mark!
at the hole in the ceiling for the bell rope.
I see it, but I don't believe it. A rat? As big
as my grandmother's tabby cat. Look at the eyes,
Brian. The eyes. It's the fire knight hitting
them. Could the rat have run up the bell rope?
Yes. That's what rang the bell. Wait till old
Andy and the villagers learn their ghostly bell
ringer is nothing but a rat. Well, I hate the
thought of sharing a cottage with That we shot
we'll get some poison or a trap in the village
tomorrow. I need a beaver trap to catch that
thing I Keep staring at us poison will do the
trick. Oh Well back away from the hole But it's
still up there in the eve somewhere Maybe we
ought to drive down tonight for the poison the
innkeeper probably has some we'll do it in the
morning I'm not going to sleep too well with
that thing scratching around in the walls. Tomorrow
it'll be dead. That rat just rang its own death
knell. Shall we get some work done first? No,
let's get into town and get that poison. I'll
work a lot better when we bury that rat. Another
drizzly morning. I'll go for the poison. You
stay here by the fire. No need for us both to
ride down. Okay, if you don't mind. I'll put
on another pot of coffee. I'll bring some fresh
eggs from the village. We'll have ourselves a
good breakfast and give Mr. Rat his last meal.
I watched Brian get into his convertible and
swing down the curving road toward the village.
I threw another log in the fire. And as I headed
for the kitchen to start the coffee... I had
the feeling that I was being watched. And I was.
I looked up into the eyes of the judge in the
portrait. The sensation was incredible. Up to
now, I'd only given the portrait a passing glance.
But now, the eyes seemed to burn right through
me. There was animation in them. They were watching
every move I made. I moved closer to the mantle
to study the canvas. Here was hate. Revenge and
madness rolled into one face. But the eyes, those
incredible eyes, I had to turn away. And when
I did, it was only to meet another pair of eyes.
The rat. was looking down at me from the hole
in the ceiling. It sat there, unmoving. As unmoving
as the judge in the portrait, I picked up a small
log from the hearth and threw it up at the rat.
Oh, I missed. But the rat disappeared into the
eaves. And I busied myself in the kitchen until
I heard Brian coming in the front door. Hello,
Mark? I'm back. In the kitchen. Coffee's ready.
I got the rat poison and a lecture to boot. A
lecture? Seems the shopkeepers as queer about
this house as Andy down at the pub. A rat, he
says. Fat chance. It's the old judge ringing
that bell. Did he say anything about the bell
ringing last night? Of course. They're all in
an uproar. Brian... I want to tell you something.
While you were gone, I saw the rat again. It
looked down at me from that hole up there. Well,
this stuff will soon take care of him. As I looked
back at it, I saw... I saw the eyes of the judge.
What? The eyes of the judge in the portrait.
They looked at me with the same intensity as
the eyes of the rat. Well, we'll take the portrait
down if it bothers you. And as for the rat, he's
about to have his last meal. Maybe it was being
here alone. My imagination worked overtime. We'll
spread this poison around and get some work done
today. May as well start laying out the structure.
Where should we put that stuff? It always seems
to appear up by the bell rope. Must have his
nest there. We'll put some up there and some
in the pantry just in case. I sure hope it works.
The chap in the village guaranteed it. Get me
that stuff out of the kitchen and I'll sprinkle
these pellets in the rafters around the bell
rope hole. You better be careful, Brian. Those
rats can be vicious. I hope you've got enough
of that stuff. We'll soon see. Better take the
flash. Yes. Any sign of Brother Rat? Not so far.
No. It's not up here now. What is up there? Just
a cramped space between the ceiling and the bedroom
floor. There. That does it. Hello. What's this?
What did you find? A big book of some kind. Like
a scrapbook. Bring it down. I intend to. Must
have been up there for years. I'm surprised the
rat hasn't chewed it to bits and made a nest
out of it. It's almost falling apart. Look, we'll
lay it out on a long table. Belong to the old
judge, without a doubt. Looks like a lot of newspaper
articles. The judge's press clippings? Yes. From
papers 40 and 50 years old. Look at this. Hanging
judge, sentences 200th to die. He was actually
proud of it. So it seems. Here's a picture of
him. Dated June 19th, 1920. Same face as the
portrait. Only a lot younger. Hello. Here's an
odd one. Look at this. The British Society of
Sorcery will hold its monthly meeting at Society
Headquarters, 31 Pembroke Place, on Thursday,
October 1st at 8 p .m. Featured speaker of the
evening will be the Honorable Judge Harrison
Schelling of Salford, whose topic will be witchcraft
and the changing form. The public is invited.
Well, now we know his hobby. It gets more fascinating
all the time. I might make a hobby of him. What
about our monograph? It might tie in nicely.
Perfectly. We're doing abnormal psychology. A
judge into witchcraft. What a case history! Well,
Mark... I think we've done enough work for one
day. You want to go into the village for supper?
I just as soon heat up some soup here. It's drizzly
and cold out there. Suits me. It's almost dark,
too. This fire's too good to leave. What was
that? What? You didn't hear it? There. Something
hit the floor. There it is. It's one of the poison
pellets. He's pushing them down the hole. The
devil! Some guarantee that guy in the village
gave you. Look at the fiend. He's throwing the
stuff back at us. That's one smart rat. He knows
what's not good for him. Well, look at it this
way. He was here before we were. Maybe we're
intruding on him. Why don't we just leave him
alone? Let him scrounge around as he pleases.
It's been his home for we don't know how long.
I don't like that idea at all. But at the moment...
I don't have a better one. Brian and I had a
light supper, did some work, let the fire go
to Embers and went to bed. I don't know how long
I'd been asleep when I heard Brian yelling at
me and dragging me out of bed. Mark, the house
is on fire. Hurry! Why aren't the downstairs
a blaze? Look! I couldn't see flames, but fire
like flickered around the stairwell. I grabbed
my pants and we hurried downstairs. It's the
fireplace. I thought the whole house was ablaze.
Yes, it's the fireplace, but how come? There
were just dying embers when we went up to bed.
But how did this start up? I don't know. Fascinating,
isn't it? It's downright weird. Someone started
that fire up again. Sure is all right. But I'll
be darned if I'll detach a supernatural significance
to it. Some charcoal just flared up. I didn't
say it was supernatural. I said someone started
the fire up. Are you accusing me of playing tricks
on you? Don't be ridiculous. But you picked a
dilly of a house for us to try to concentrate
in. Brian's upbeat nature kept me from taking
things too seriously. But I should have realized
we were in a danger far greater than Brian would
admit. For the next two days we worked without
incident. And no sign of the rat, thank heaven.
We didn't go into the village at all. And we
were surprised when we saw Andy, the tavern keeper,
approach the house somewhat cautiously. Come
in, Andy. And you know who is me? Our crystal
ball. What? We saw you through the window. I
hope I'm not intruding. No, of course not. Help
yourself to Sherry. We never thought we'd see
you set foot in here. No, I never thought I would
either. We was getting concerned about you too.
Haven't seen you in two days. I was elected to
come see you. She was all right. Rather, I lost
the draw. And you see, we're fine. Did you get
rid of the rat? Well, we don't know. We haven't
seen it for two days. I knew those pellets would
do the trick. We're not sure it ate any of them.
How? It kept pushing them down at us from its
nests up there. You don't believe me? I believe
anything that might happen in this house. So
that's him staring down from the wall. The old
hanging judge himself, eh? That's him. Evil as
evil can be, he is. You can tell it to look at
him. Curious you should put it that way. What
way? You said, he is, not he was. Of course he
is. He won't believe his spirit's hearing in
that bell. But we know it. Mark me. You're in
for a hard lesson, don't I know it? We appreciate
your concern for our well -being. I mean that.
Well, if you was about to come to harm, we wouldn't
ignore you. Things are awfully tense in the village.
About us? About you. About all of us. It blasted
bell -ring three nights ago. We know. We're waiting.
Wondering. Who's going to be next? Do not send
to know for whom the bell tolls It tolls for
the judge's next victim But it's merely a gutter
rat that rings the bell when it occasionally
runs up and down the bell rope to its nest in
the ease That's what Brian would have the villagers
believe and perhaps he's right, but that's a
big perhaps and we'll find out what really goes
on in the judge's house when I return shortly
with Act 3. Iron bells in the silence of the
night, how we shiver at the melancholy menace
of their tone. The people of Salford certainly
shiver every time the bell in the judge's house
rings. According to them, it means someone is
going to die. But it's been several days now
since the bell rang last, and the village is
still wondering... Who's going to be next? That's
your trouble, Andy. You let superstition color
your whole life. No one is going to be next,
just because a rat happened to swing on a bell
rope. Ah, you can talk, lad. You haven't lived
in Salford. We know. Well, I better be getting
back. Well, thanks for coming, Andy. We appreciate
your concern. Like I said, we hadn't seen you
in two days. Just wanted to make sure you was
all right. We still think you're lonely. Perhaps.
But it will take more than a rat and superstition
to get us to leave. I hope for your sake there
is nothing more. Good -bye now. So long, Andy.
We'll be down for a beer. And thanks again for
thinking of us. You be careful now. Decent chap.
They all are, I suppose. Wanna get back to work?
We'd better. and thus then the psyche is turned
inward on itself with no other outlet something
the matter mark i just can't concentrate i know
i'm acting like one of the villagers but i can't
stand that portrait staring down at us it really
bothers you yes and i'm going to take it down
all right if you feel better But he is sort of
an inspiration now that we're ready to include
him in the paper. Give me a hand, will you? Sure.
Heavy, is it? It's not that. It seems to be nailed
to something. It won't budge. So it is. Let's
both lift from the bottom. No use. I'm afraid
it's there to stay. Unless we destroy the thing.
No, we can't do that. Well, let's get back to
work. I want to go over the scrapbook, item by
item. It'll give us a good start on... Hello?
Did you move the book? No. It's gone. I mean,
I distinctly remember leaving it on the corner
table here. Well, it's got to be around here.
I never touched it. Nor I. Not since we looked
at it the first time. It's absolutely gone. Well,
maybe the judge stepped down from the portrait
and hid it somewhere to keep us from crying Now
you're treating the whole situation the way you
should But where could it have gone Let's call
it a day it's getting dark want to pop down to
Andes for a pint I'd like nothing better. Anything
more, boys? Oh, no, thanks. I'm falling asleep
from all that ale. I'll finish this and we'll
go. You know, the people have been talking. Oh?
Yeah. Yeah, thinking maybe you lads, lonely as
you are, have maybe driven the old thing away.
Nothing's happened in the village. You know what
I mean? I think we do. You're going to be here
for two months. That's good. Just your being
there has done something. This is the first time
nothing's happened after the bell rang. And we
hope it stays that way. We'd better get back.
Let's have the tab, Andy. Good night, boys. It's
all on me. I wish we'd left the light on. Take
the flash. I'll pop round back for some firewood.
You go in and stir the embers. Okay. I went into
the living room, and before I could turn on a
light, I knew I was being watched. I flicked
on the light and... a rat was back. It looked
over the rim of the hole, its eyes aglow with
reflected light. Oh, the chill that ran up the
back of my neck was indescribable. The rat stared,
unmoving, and then it leaped to the bell rope,
swinging back and forth, setting off the clanging,
twisting and riding on the rope as it chewed,
chewed right through the rope. It fell to the
floor with a thud. and turned toward me. I raced
for the kitchen and slammed the door. I had to
get out of the house. I ran through the kitchen's
back door. Oh, but I couldn't budge it. Mark,
what the devil's going on? Why was the bell ringing?
I can't open the door, Brian. The rat's in the
living room. It's crazed. Open the door! I'll
push from this side. Now, what's happened? The
rat's loose in the living room. It's gone mad
or something. It attacked me. Now, calm down.
Why did the bell ring? The rat chewed through
the bell rope. Brian, we've got to leave here.
The rat clawed at the door. Let's take a look.
No! Don't open the door to the living room. It's
there, waiting. I don't hear anything. Well,
it's clever. It's waiting for us to come out.
I'm going to see. Can you see him? No. Look,
look at the bottom of the door. Scratch marks.
Yes, you're right. I could almost put up with
the supernatural aspects you find so exciting,
but we can't stay with a crazed rat. There's
no sign of it now. Come on, let's take a look.
What's the matter? Am I dreaming? Look at the
portrait. The portrait? The judge? He's gone.
He's no longer in it. Everything else is there.
The chair. The table his arm rested on. This
is extraordinary. The painting's completely intact.
No smudge. No tears. And no judge? We're getting
out of here. I can't leave now. We're experiencing
an unbelievable supernatural event. Have you
lost your mind? We have both seen with our own
eyes a figure disappear from a painting. We both
know it's impossible, but it's happened. There's
an incredible supernatural force at work in this
house. Do you mean the judge is roaming around
the house? The image of the judge. the lecture
in the newspaper advertisement witchcraft and
the changing form mark this adds up the spirit
of the judge never left the house it stayed here
in the form of the rat probably several rats
over the years and the body of the judge was
preserved in the portrait it was there for him
to claim whenever he wanted dressed in his robes
remember The eyes of the rat looked like the
eyes of the judge in the painting. What an experience
we've stumbled on. You mean you're going to stay
here with that crazy judge on the loose? We can't
miss out on this. I want to see what he does
next. Do you actually think we're going to meet
up with him? He's gone from the portrait. He's
got to turn up somewhere. Brian, listen to me.
That rat attacked me. That means the Judge has
murder in mind, too. Look, we have got to get
out of here! Look. There he is. At the top of
the stairs. Blooming above us, like some colossus,
stood the Judge. His black robes swirled around
him. His long white hair had a luminous glow.
and his eyes, those eyes. Over his arm hung the
bell rope, and in his hand a black cap. As we
stood transfixed, slowly he placed a black cap
on his head. A cap British judges always put
on when passing a sentence of death. the death
cap incredible what a manifestation he's beckoning
to us i'm going up no brian you can't it's only
an ectoplasmic manifestation a spirit i want
to see what it does it can't hurt us let's just
leave never see it's motioning us to follow i'm
going to follow it don't i'm going to see this
through it's moving away down the hall I must
see where it goes and what it does. Brian, please
don't go up there. Heading for the bell tower.
I'm close enough to touch it. Brian. Brian. Answer
me, Brian. I raced up the stairs. There was no
sign of Brian. I searched every room, every corner
of the second floor. Brian and the judge had
vanished. I ran back outside, jumped into Brian's
car and headed for help in the village. What
is he doing? The judge. He's... The judge? He's
up at the house. Brian followed him. Followed
him? Up where? Stairs. But they both disappeared.
Can you get some of the men to come back with
me? We have got to find Brian. I don't know.
There's none but me who dares set foot within
that place. Listen. The bell. Why? It couldn't
ring. The rat chewed the rope clear through.
I'm crazy to do it. But I can't leave you alone
to face it. Come on. I'll go back up there with
you. Roy! Alex! Come with us and don't ask questions.
They say you saw the judge. He disappeared from
the portrait. And then we saw him standing at
the top of the stairs. That's when Brian went
up to follow him. We'd better approach cautiously.
Peering the windows first to see what's going
on. I'm going in to find Brian. My leg! Through
the window! I can see it! Brian! Hurry up, man!
Quick! Brian! Brian! I looked with horror and
then covered my eyes. Brian was hanging by the
neck from the bell robe. swinging in slow rhythm
to the tolling of the bell. Before I passed out
and everything went black, I caught a glimpse
of the portrait. The judge was back, seated in
the high back chair, as though he had never moved.
He came to on the lawn with Andy standing over
me. Are you all right, Len? Yes, but... Brian.
Oh, Brian. He'll be all right, too. We got him
down in time. The men have taken him to the pub.
He's... He's alive? Indeed. A nasty scar he'll
have on his neck, but he'll be all right. The
doctor's with him now. What are the men doing
over there? Ending this once and for all. We're
burning the place to the ground. It'll go up
like a tinderbox. Aye. Judge, rat and all. And
if the grandson complains we burned down his
house, so be it. We have to protect ourselves
from the judge's house. That was the end of it
for us Brian recovered and we finished our work
back at his flat in Liverpool But I can still
remember watching the judge's house collapse
into fiery ashes And the small furry figure that
emerged from the inferno Its eyes glistening
in the light of the flames before it scampered
off into the woods beyond. The bell will toll
no more over the judge's house. No longer will
the villagers of Salford have to live in fear
and dread. We know the rat deserted the sinking
ship, or fiery house to be exact, but without
the portrait and the bell and the house. he'll
probably end up as just another homeless gutter
rat. I'll be back shortly. Believers in witchcraft
staunchly maintain that certain evil spirits,
the devil most notably, can survive for years,
sometimes centuries, by taking on various other
life forms. One way of living forever, I suppose.
But I don't think I'd like it. I mean, what's
the good of living forever if your friends can
never recognize you? Our cast included Gordon
Gould, Lloyd Batista, and Robert Dryden. 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.