And now, Mystery Theater. Come in. Welcome. I'm
E .G. Marshall. Welcome to the wonders of your
own imagination, for although I am about to tell
you a horror story, it is really your imagination
that will bring it to life for you. I shouldn't
even say I will tell it, for it's really the
story of Edward Somerset, as recounted in his
private journal dated London 1874. a truly harrowing
account of what took place at Moorland Manor.
There'll be no need for me to enter the crypt,
I trust. I don't believe so. Edward? No. The
will merely states that the coffin was to be
left open for a week and food and water left
nearby. The Master was always afraid of being
buried alive. Deathly afraid. As many are. It's
an all too common occurrence in these times.
But no, you needn't enter the Crypt Hobbs. Miss
Trezillion must do that. And I must accompany
her. The will demands it. Our mystery drama,
The Headstrong Corpse, was written especially
for the Mystery Theatre by George Lothar and
starred Suzanne Grossman, and Gordon Gould. As
you may know, it's a custom of mine, a hobby,
if you will, to read old diaries and journals,
the accounts of lives written down by people
long since dead and in their graves. Recently
I had the good fortune to come across the journal
of a certain Edward Somerset, a young London
lawyer, barrister, the English would say, who
tells a grisly tale of what took place at Moorland
Manor in the year 1874. According to Edward Somerset,
but no, let him tell the story in his own words,
just as he recorded it in his journal. And so,
this being the appointed day, I took the coach
to the village of Burleigh, twenty miles south
of London in Kent, and in spite of the storminess
of the weather, made the trip in less than four
hours. I found Margaret Resilien, the girl I
loved devotedly, but who, alas, shall never be
mine, in a terrible state of nerves. Edward,
Edward, how glad I am to see you. And I, you,
my darling, though I feared you would not welcome
the sight of me. Oh, darling. If only I'd never
consented to marry Richard Westmore. Never given
my promise. You had no choice. Is there no escape,
no way out? Only if Dr. Westmore releases you
from your promise. Rescinds the marriage contract
you and your father signed. He'll never release
me. In fact, he's coming for the weekend. He'll
be here this evening. to set the date for our
marriage. Perhaps if I were to have a talk with
him. Now, what's all that? Hobbs and Mrs. Murchison
having another of their quarrels. That, Mr. Hobbs,
is that. Oh, no, it isn't, Mrs. Murchison. By
no means is it. Oh, we'll see, Mr. Hobbs. We'll
see. Miss... What is it now, Mrs. Murchison?
Since we buried my father a week ago, you and
Hobbs have quarreled without let up. What is
it this time? It's him and his lofty heirs. That's
what it is. Sir Simon was hardly cold in his
coffin before Hobbes began lording it over me
and the other servants. Now your father is dead.
He seems to feel he's in charge. I am. That's
the way Sir Simon would have wanted it. Begging
your pardon, Miss, but as you know, I was butler
and personal servant to your father before you
were born. I've been with this family many years,
most of my life, in fact. Whatever this disagreement
between you and Mrs. Murchison may be, we'll
discuss it another time. At the moment, we must
go to the crypt. Fetch a lantern so you can light
the way. Well, why do you stand there? Oh, there'll
be no need for me to enter the crypt, I trust.
I don't believe so. Edward? No. The will merely
states that the coffin was to be left open for
a week, and food and water left nearby. The Master
was always afraid of being buried alive. Deathly
afraid. As many are. It's an all too common occurrence.
But no, you needn't enter the crypt hobs. Miss
Trezillion must do that. And I, as a representative
of the law firm of Costain and Loring, must accompany
her. Ah, yes, sir, but when it comes to putting
the lid on the coffin and screwing it down...
I'll do that, since it seems to trouble you.
Oh, thank you, sir, and I'll fetch the lantern.
You may go, Mrs. Murchison. We'll discuss this
matter later. Very well, miss. But Hobbs is becoming...
He has become impossible. Oh, now, who could
that be on such a day as this? Whoever it may
be, let him in out of the storm, Mrs. Murchison.
Yes, Miss Edwards. Thank you, Murchison. Thank
you. Frightful day. Soaked to the skin. Lord
Burleigh, what brings you out on such a day?
Well, all days are good days for business, my
dear. Business? Oh, I apologize. I haven't introduced
you. This is Mr. Edward Somerset of Causton and
Loring, my father's solicitors. Edward Lord Burleigh.
How do you do, sir? You're here on business,
you say? To be exact, to make another offer for
Moorland Manor, my dear. You've chosen a bad
time, my lord. Though, really, any time would
be bad. As my father told you more than once,
I think Moorland is not for sale. Wrong tense,
my dear. It wasn't for sale, but it is now. Or,
I happen to know, soon will be. What gives you
that idea, Lord Burleigh? Excuse me... Hobbs
has brought the lantern, Edward. Lord Burleigh
will have to excuse us. Ah, I had forgot. This
is the day, and no doubt the time, for paying
a visit to the family crypt, eh? Your father
had a fear of being buried alive. Well, I'm sure
you'll find him dead enough. May I ask how you
happened to be so well -acquainted with the private
affairs of Moreland Manor? How do you know this
is the day we were to visit the crypt? There's
little goes on in Burleigh, in the county and
in the village, sir, that I don't know. Good
day to you, sir. And you'll be hearing from me
again, Mr. Sillion. Terrible man. Certainly is.
Well, Margaret, it's time. Yes. Hobbs, lead the
way. Here we are. I'll open the door. Give me
the lantern, Hobbes, and wait here. Oh, yes,
sir. Come, Margaret. Edward, I... I can't enter
that awful place again. I'm afraid you must.
It was your father's wish. So cold. Damp. So...
There. There's the open coffin. Let me just shine
the lantern inside it to be sure your father's
body is still there Yes, it is look Margaret
Yes The body is there go outside now I'll put
the lid on the coffin and screw it down. All
right. I'll wait for you with Hobbs until you
Edward what is it? There's something strange
here Something curious. The clothes on the body.
The clothes? That isn't the suit we buried my
father in. In fact, Edward... Oh, good Lord.
It isn't my father's body. Now, now, Margaret.
Edward, I tell you, it isn't. You knew my father.
He was much taller and he was thin. By heaven,
you're right. But this makes no sense at all.
It's his head. Yes, it is. I'm going to faint.
Outside, quickly. I'll join you. Miss, what is
it, Miss? Something horrible. Horrible! What,
Miss Wark? I don't dare say it, Hobbs. I don't
dare think it. Mr. Somerset, sir, what is it?
What is it in there? The thing in the coffin.
It's Sir Simon's head, but not his body. Not
his body? Someone cut his head off, stole his
body, and put another in its place. Utterly incredible,
Somerset. Dr. Westmore, what I've just told you,
I saw with my own eyes. So did Margaret. In fact,
she was the one who first noticed it was the
wrong body. Where is she? Resting. Or perhaps
I should say recuperating. It was an awful shock
for her. No doubt. Have you notified the police?
No. Well, why not, man? There's only a constable
in the village, and I... I've heard he's anything
but competent. I intend to send a message to
the London police by coach tomorrow morning.
Better still, I'll take it for you. I'd rather
not wait till you leave on Monday. Oh, I'll not
be staying the weekend now. Margaret will be
in no mood or condition to discuss our wedding
plans. And as a surgeon at London Hospital, I
have much to do. No point wasting my time here.
You don't exactly sound like a man in love, Dr.
Westmore. In love? With Margaret, of course.
But I'm not. Nor is she with me. It's all purely
a financial arrangement, you understand. Well,
no, I didn't quite. Oh, but of course, an arrangement
I made with Sir Simon. He was a very ill man
for nearly a decade. He sought my rather special
services, if I may say so. But as you know, Moreland
is mortgaged to the hilt and he was unable to
pay. In return, he offered you his daughter's
hand in marriage. And Moreland Manor. Even though
the estate is heavily mortgaged, it'll give me
a tidy sum. A fortune, in fact, once I sell it.
Look here, let's go down to the crypt. I want
to see for myself. I'll ring for Hobbes first.
You say you're not in love with Margaret? Not
in the least. I am. Oh, are you indeed? And she's
in love with me? Yes. Yes. I don't know quite
how to ask this, except to ask it. Will you release
Margaret why of course not even if oh Hobbs you
rang sir Yes, dr. Westmore, and I want to go
down into the crypt bring a lantern. Will you
yes, sir? Oh and tell mrs. Murchison she can
serve tea in half an hour. Yes, sir As I was
saying doctor Even if Margaret signed over all
right to moorland to you Why should I bargain
for what will be mine once we marry? And if she
refuses to marry you? Well, she won't. Margaret
is a woman of honor. What do you know of honor,
Dr. Westmore? Now, if you mean to insult me,
Somerset... I mean to give you the truth. I've
had you investigated, Doctor, quietly but thoroughly.
I happen to know that you have twice been brought
before the Royal College of Surgeons on charges
of conduct unbecoming a physician. Charges which
could not be proved for lack of evidence. I was
not guilty. That you are presently under investigation
by the same College of Surgeons. who this time
do have the evidence to revoke your license and
will, Doctor Westmore, because you are considered
unworthy of the name Doctor and will be barred
from medical practice. You have been thorough,
Somerset. Perhaps under the circumstances you'd
prefer I went down the crypt without your company.
I'd better go with you, since one of the charges
against you is that of body -snatching. I'll
take the lantern, Hobbes. You wait here. Oh,
thank you, sir. Oh, and you told Mrs. Murchison
about tea. Well, I'm sorry, sir, but I couldn't
find her about. What do you mean? She must be
somewhere in the house. No, sir. At least I was
unable to find her, and you did want the lantern
right away, sir, so I... No matter. This way,
Westmore. Hmm. There's coffins stacked one on
top of another. Their occupants have certainly
been dead for years. Some of them for nearly
a century. Curious. That's Sir Simon's coffin
there, the one with the lid off? Yes. And as
you can see, the body isn't that of Sir Simon,
but... Good Lord! What in the name of... Here,
raise the lantern. Let's have some more light.
You did say the head was Sir Simon's? It was.
But this is... It's the head of a woman. Katie.
Katie? Katie Johnson. The maid. What's this?
Well, it's incredible. First, if I'm to believe
you, Sir Simon's body was exchanged for another.
And now his head? Is this some sort of a joke?
I don't think so, Westmore. But if it is, it's
the joke of someone gone mad. A baffling mystery,
wouldn't you say? You might even call it heady.
Sorry, I couldn't resist that. Edward Somerset's
daily journal, recording what took place later
on, is even more baffling. And I'm afraid...
more ghastly. Most of this strange story, the
body of it, there I go again. All I meant to
say was, there's more to come. And so, I'll be
back shortly with Act Two. is filled with all
sorts of shocking things. But I must confess
that even I, somewhat of a connoisseur of the
shocking, was totally stunned by Edward Somerset's
account of what happened following the gruesome
discovery that Sir Simon's head had now been
replaced by Katie Johnson's. If I was appalled
merely in reading about what had taken place,
the feeling of those who actually lived through
these ghastly events can be imagined. But where
is my father's body, head and body? Whose body
is it in the coffin? Who killed Katie Johnson,
severed her head from her body and put it in
my father's coffin? What? Margaret, I beg you,
enough. I can't answer even one of your questions,
let alone a dozen. I didn't ask a dozen, Edward.
You needn't snap my head off. No, no, no, no.
We're all somewhat nerfed up. Talk. Talk, talk.
We sit here talking when we should be doing something.
Perhaps you have a suggestion, my dear Margaret.
At least one murder has been committed in this
house. Possibly two. Katie Johnson and whoever's
body that is in my father's coffin. Shouldn't
we notify the police? The village constable is
worse than useless. Dr. Westmore has offered
to take a message to the London police when he
leaves in the morning. You'll not be staying
the weekend. I may soon cease to be a doctor,
Margaret. Certainly if the College of Surgeons
rescinds my license. But I still retain some
remnants of the gentleman. You are certainly
in no mood to discuss our wedding plans. Neither
now nor at any other time. Ah, well. You have
no choice there. Perhaps she does. Or could have
if, as you say, you do retain some gentlemanly
qualities. You referred to the suggestion you
made earlier just before we went down into the
crypt. Yes. What suggestion? that Westmore release
you from your pledge to marry him in return for
moorland manner. Which, after all, is really
what he wants. Not quite, my dear fellow. Not
altogether quite. What do you mean? If you don't
love, Margaret... Love has nothing to do with
it. It's a matter of convenience and what is
best for me. I don't understand. Well, you would
if you'd allow me to finish. Once my license
to practice medicine is revoked, and it will
be this time, I'm sure, I shall go into business.
Contacts, important contacts, are vital to business
success. And the making of contacts requires
a good deal of entertaining. So you see, I shall
need a wife to fill the role of hostess. Does
that answer you? Yes. I guess it does. I beg
your pardon, Miss Margaret. Oh, Hobbs, yes. You
asked me to find out where Mrs. Murchison had
got to, and I... I have, Miss. Where did you
find her? In the kitchen, sir. Where she claimed
she'd been all the time. Only she hasn't. Did
you tell her I want to see her? Yes, Miss, he
did. And I came straight along. Where have you
been the past hour? In the kitchen, Miss. preparing
tonight's dinner. Mrs. Murchison, more than an
hour ago, I asked Hobbs to let you know he wanted
tea, and he couldn't find you. Well, I don't
know why not, Mr. Somerset. I've been in the
kitchen all that time. And as for tea, there
was no need to give me an order. Tea is always
served in this house at five. Then why didn't
you serve it? Too busy getting dinner, Miss.
I gave Katie instructions to serve it today.
She never got to do it. God rest her soul. Hobbs
said he couldn't find you. Not anywhere. Well,
that is a lie. I have been in that kitchen the
last two hours. Never left it once. He's lying,
he is. Trying to get me into trouble. Oh, come
now, Murchison. Why would Hobbs want to get you
into trouble? Because I know too much about him.
That's why. And he's afraid I might tell what
I know. He wants to see me dismissed. The woman
is mad, stark mad. Am I? Am I? We have been paid
no salary in this house for six months. Now,
not that I'm complaining, Miss, I'm not. But
ask him how he can afford to buy the finest of
vintage wines to swill down his gullet. Ask him
who pays for the costly cigars he smokes. And
ask him where he gets the money for the expensive
suits, shoes, whatever he wears when he goes
to London on his days off. Ask him! Is it true,
Hobbs? I guess, Miss, I'll not deny that I enjoy
good wine and a fine cigar. How do I pay for
them? Miss, your father paid me well in the many
years I served him. I was able to save considerable.
And that, Mrs. All, there is to it. Though Mrs.
Murchison would like you to think otherwise.
Think what? Well, Mrs. Murchison? Nothing, Miss.
I've said too much already. Now, if you'll excuse
me, I have a roast cooking. One minute. Sir?
The inside of your right arm. I just noticed
when you turned. It's smeared with... with what
looks like blood. Blood? Well, look at it. Oh.
Oh, yes. Is it blood, Mrs. Murchison? I... I...
I guess it is. Yes, I... preparing the roast,
cutting it. I must have got a smear of blood
on me. Is that how you got it, Mrs. Murchison?
What do you mean, Dr. Westmore? Nothing. Nothing,
Mrs. Murchison. May I go, Miss? Yes. And you
too, Hobbs. Oh, yes, Miss. Well, she could have
got that blood on her from cutting a roast of
beef. Or from cutting something else. My suspicions
of Mrs. Murchison were sharply aroused. I had
myself stated to Westmore that whoever was responsible
for these ghoulish happenings... must be mad,
stark mad. I was speculating on all this in the
drawing room after dinner, paying little attention
to something Margaret and Westmore were discussing,
when, to the surprise of us all, Lord Burleigh
was announced for the second time that day. His
Lordship, Miss. Good evening, Mr. Zillion, Mr.
Somerset, and you, Dr. Westmore. Good evening.
Lord Burleigh, I thought our business had ended
this afternoon. Ah, no, my dear. Business. Sound
business, that is. Never takes no for an answer.
Since I could not reason with you, I decided
to ride over and, if possible, reason with your
husband -to -be. To answer your look, Doctor,
yes, I heard you were here. Is there anything
you don't know, Lord Burleigh? Very little, very
little. As your betrothed may have mentioned
to you... I'm interested in buying Moorland Manor.
She didn't mention it, no. Ah, yes. Well, I am
prepared to make you, all things considered,
a quite decent offer, Doctor, once you come into
possession through marriage, of course. Would
you be interested? I would, indeed. Why do you
want Moorland, my lord? Well, it adjoins my own
estate. The 780 acres of Moorland would be a
welcome addition. I should think so, yes. What
you prepared to offer? One pound per acre, 780
pounds. That isn't an offer, Lord Burleigh. It's
an insult. Not at all. Not at all. If you look
at it in the right light, Doctor, all things
considered, as I said, it's really something
of a compliment. As attorney for the estate,
I can assure you it's worth a very great deal
more than 780 pounds. Oh, can you, Mr. Somerset?
Can you indeed? In your position, you must also
be aware that the estate is impoverished. Yes,
but... The taxes are now a year in arrears. Yes,
still... I know, I know, you entertain the hope,
the forlorn hope, Mr. Somerset, that through
proper management, through improved land production,
you might salvage the estate. I would hope that
Dr. Westmore would, when he becomes owner. Hasn't
he told you he means to sell more land? Within
a month, perhaps less, you'll be willing to settle
for shillings. What do you mean by that? I mean
quite simply, my dear, that there will be no
one here to run the place for you. No servants,
no farmers, no stable help, no one. Why not?
Because the strange things taking place here,
I refer to the occurrences on the family vault,
are already known in the village and the people
are frightened. In a few days, they will shun
Moulin Manor as if it contained bubonic plague.
But this is impossible. Well informed as you
may be on what goes on in Burleigh. You couldn't
be this informed. Unless... Yes? Nothing. No,
no, I insist. Unless what, my dear? I said nothing.
But your silence signifies everything. If you're
implying that I have a more than ordinary knowledge
of what is going on here, that I am in some way
involved, then out with it. That is indeed what
I do, Sir Mize. Well then let me assure you that
you are wrong. I have my sources of information,
yes, I have my informants, indeed a network of
them, but I am not, I repeat not, a body snatcher.
Body snatcher? Good lord, man, what do you think
is behind all this? Body -snatching. Oh, heaven
help us. What naivete. Do you think someone is
simply playing games, having some sort of ghoulish
fun? You, Mr. Cillian, and you, Mr. Summer, said
yes, I can understand it with you too. But Westmore,
you? Do you mean to say you haven't suggested
this possibility, this probability, to these
two young people? Should I have? Ah, but you
know better than anyone the need of bodies for
dissection purposes, for the training of medical
students. Medical schools will pay 10 pounds
for a fresh body, and 15, as you damn well know,
sir, for a fresh head. Really? You're far more
knowledgeable than I am, sir. Oh, you know nothing
of it, eh? You, whose case is on trial this very
moment before the College of Surgeons, for just
such practices, you know nothing? What is he
on trial for? I thought it was body snatching
alone. Oh, that, of course, of course. But in
the eyes of the authorities, something... far
more vile dr westmore is a grave robber what
yes my dear he not only snatches corpses but
robs them as well is this true i own to nothing
you needn't your face says all blast you lord
burley for what you've done to me these past
minutes i to you have you not done it to yourself
sir yes heaven above help me yes But I had hopes,
stupidly had hopes that I might repair the damage
I've done others and myself. I dared to hope
that with the money as I would receive from the
sale of Moreland, I might regain some reputation,
some respect, some personal dignity. I ask your
pardon. I had not known you. You had in you even
a spark of decency. Only a spark. Nevertheless,
a spark. which I might have fanned into flame.
And you may still. What I have said has been
said within the confines of this house. No, Lord
Burly, it has been said within the confines of
this woman's heart. And we'll echo there till
the day she dies. Ah, well, well, I... I am sorry.
But now as to my offer to buy more and... Another
time. We'll discuss it another time, if at all.
Now. Then I had best take my leave that would
be best and Lord Burleigh my dear Don't come
back The revelation of another side to dr. Westmore's
character a good side came as a surprise to both
myself and Margaret Unhappily this better side
of dr. Westmore As Margaret and I discovered
in a long discussion with him following Burleigh's
departure, by no means influenced him in releasing
Margaret from her obligation to marry him. When
finally he had retired for the night, Margaret
and I sat hopelessly talking of the future. Edward,
Edward, I love you so. And the thought of marrying
Dr. Westmore, I shudder at it. I too, my darling.
There must be something, something. What? What
solution have you thought of? One that only God
could arrange, I'm afraid. Westmoor's death.
Oh, Edward. Frankly, there have been times when
I've been nearly driven to arrange it myself.
You mustn't say such things, Edward. Not even
think them. Two in the morning. No wonder we're
having such wild thoughts. We're tired. I'll
say good night to you, my dearest. What in heaven's
name? Mrs. Murchison. But where is she? Where
are those screams? The crypt. The crypt? Sounds
that way. Stay here. No, I'm coming with you.
Here's the crypt. Don't come in, Margaret. Nonsense,
Edward. What is it, Mrs. Murchison? What are
you doing here in the crypt? What's happened
to make you lose control? Sir Simon's cloth.
Go and look. See for yourself. Good Lord! Edward,
what? No, don't look, Margaret. I must. When
it came to that part of Edward Somerset's journal,
I could hardly wait to turn the page to find
out what new horror had taken place in the crypt.
And a horror it was, a shocking horror, as you'll
discover when you turn the page, so to speak,
shortly after I return with Act 3. Shall we turn
that page of Edward Somerset's journal? Personally,
I could scarcely wait to do so. But I am used
to horrors. I can sort of take them in my stride,
while you on the other. You insist? Very well,
then. We turn the page. For all her delicate
beauty is a strong woman, a woman of courage.
But as she looked into her father's coffin, and
the words... My God! ...escaped her lips, I feared
she was about to faint. But she somehow managed
to retain control. When I was sure she wasn't
about to collapse, I turned my attention to Mrs.
Murchison. And said, pull yourself together,
Mrs. Murchison. I'll try. I'll try. And answer
me. What are you doing here in the crypt, and
at this hour of the morning? Well, answer me!
I wanted to clear myself. Clear yourself? To
prove my innocence. Last night, when you saw
the blood smear on my arm, the way you looked
at me, all of you. The way you talked, I could
see you suspected me of doing these... these
foul things. But... what brought you here? What
could you expect to prove here? I don't know.
I only know I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned,
all sorts of thoughts going through my head,
all sorts of... needs to prove to you that your
suspicions of me were unfounded. I came down
here in desperation, I suppose. thinking I might
find something, some clue, some bit of evidence
that would give the lie to Hobbes. Instead, I
found that. What do you mean, give the lie to
Hobbes? Sir, I was in the kitchen all the time,
he claims he was looking for me. The time when
poor Katie was murdered. Oh, and sir, that blood
on my arm was from cutting the roast beef from
nothing else. So you say. You don't believe me
still? Why should I? We find you here in the
crypt under very curious circumstances, and you
expect us to believe your not very convincing
story? It's the truth! I swear to you, sir and
you, miss, it's true! That's to be seen. The
question now is, what's to be done? Edward, the
police must be notified as soon as possible.
Yes. Dr Westmore was going to take a message
to London tomorrow morning. Well... Someone else
will have to do it now. Edward? Yes? Are we dealing
with a madman? I'd say what's in that coffin
answers your question, Margaret. If we had found
Dr. Westmore's head, just the head, I might still
have some doubts, but not anymore. Not after
finding Westmore's head with the lips cut off.
Terrible. Terrible what happened to Dr. Westmoreland.
Yes. Will you be long in London, sir? Only overnight.
I'll return in the morning with, I hope, some
member of the police force who can get to the
bottom of what's going on at Moreland. Strange,
strange. First for Simon's body taken but his
head left in the coffin then his head gone and
Katie's Her head put in its place and now dr.
Westmore's head in place of Katie's and the lips
cut off Horrible Horrible very Have you any idea
sir as to what's behind this I have my suspicions
Hobbs, but that's all they are Suspicions. Well
now, you'll be sure to return on the morning
coach, and so I'll be there to meet you. Yes.
Depend on me. And there now, you see, the village
just below us in the valley. I told you we'd
be in plenty of time. You've hardly touched your
dinner, miss. I'm not hungry, Mrs. Murchison.
Oh, small wonder. All that's happened here. And
some of the village farmhands telling you today
that they'd not be coming back to Moorland to
work the fields. I'll see who it is, Miss. Lord
Burleigh. Is your mistress at home, Mrs. Murchison?
I'll see me, Lord. No need. I'm sure she is.
I thought I had informed you, Lord Burleigh,
that your presence here is no longer desired.
You may change your mind about that. If you've
come to see me about... I've come to see the
crypt, if I may have your permission. Whatever
for? I learned today that a good number of your
farmhands have left you because of the doings
here. Well, for my benefit. Once I own Moorland,
I think it best to clear up the mystery of the
crypt as quickly as may be. You think you can?
I know I can. Because you see I know on good
authority the reason behind what's been going
on Is it Body snatching yes, so in any case I
am informed, but I wish to see for myself before
taking action I Have your permission very well
now come along then Now first I want to look
in the coffin. Ah, poor Westmore. Lips mutilated
as I was informed. Whatever it is you wish to
see or do, will you do it quickly? To be absolutely
sure, I'll open the top coffin on this stack.
No, you can't do that. It's sacrilege. That's
the coffin of my mother. I'm afraid it was the
coffin of your mother, my dear. In truth, I'm
afraid many of these coffins no longer contain
their original occupants. They are now used as
storage boxes for much fresher corpses. Now,
with your permission, then. Yeah, so, see for
yourself, Margaret. Please. I'd rather not. Come,
come. You must. This once. I want you to know
I speak the truth. Look. But why? If bodies are
in such demand, why store them away? Why not
sell them at once? My dear, you are as devoid
of business sense as your father. In business,
there is an inexorable law known as the law of
supply and demand. When supply exceeds demand,
prices fall and vice versa. There's more demand
for corpses at some times than at others, more
demand for heads at certain times. At the moment,
medical schools are in need of heads. Why? I
haven't the vaguest idea. My informant didn't
know. I do! Hobbs! Hobbs, what are you doing
here? No need to answer that, Hobbs. That butcher
knife in your hand is answer enough. Answer enough
for you! Damn your rotten soul! eyes and ears
everywhere. Nothing hidden from him. Oh, knew
everything. Knew all about what was going on
down here. I even knew I'll be found that I am
the Bodysnatcher. You? You? You didn't know.
You didn't even suspect. Mr. Somerset did. Lord
Burleigh did. Dr. Westmore. Oh, yes, he more
than suspected. He knew because he was the one
who bought what I had to sell! Westmore! He started
me, but I... I ended him! I had to! Why? Why
did you have to? He was soon to go on trial before
the College of Surgeons. They have enough evidence
to convict him, to break him down, and he will
have told everything, including where he got
the bodies, the heads, from me! I had to cut
off his lips so he'd never tell. Never! You're
mad? Yes, that may be. The bodies, the heads.
How did you... How did you transport them? The
nearest medical schools are in London. I have
a carriage, well, more a wagon in the village.
And the night before, I would go to London. On
my days off... I would take what I had to sell
into the village and stack them away in the wagon.
You thought I went to London by coach? I never
did. I always went in my wagon, taking my produce
to market to Dr. Westmore. I never suspected.
I never knew. Well, you do now. No. No, don't.
Don't kill me, Hobbs. Please, don't kill me.
And last, I must, and cut off your lips so you
can't ever tell. No, please. I'll be quick. It
won't hurt. No, no. Oh, yes. I've become very...
Mr. Summery. You... You came back. I never went.
But Hobbes will never know that now I know dearest
I heard everything he said But I knew the whole
story before I came back from the village you
didn't go to London I never intended to The more
I thought about it the more it seemed that if
Lord Burley could buy information And he couldn't
have got it any other way then maybe if I spread
the word in the village that I was willing to
pay and pay handsomely well In any case, I did.
And it worked! You learned about Hobbes. Everything!
Thank God you arrived in time. I thank him not
only for that, but for the future that lies ahead
for us. There are two important tasks I shall
devote the rest of my life to. One is restoring
Moorland Manor to what it once was. And the other?
Making you the happiest woman on earth. And so
ended, happily, the strange and horrifying events
at Moorland Manor. Edward Somerset continued
his journal for many years, and I am glad to
be able to tell you that he did restore Moorland
Manor to its former splendor. And he must have
made Margaret at least one of the happiest women
on earth, if nine children mean anything. I will
be back shortly. Our story took place in 1874.
There are many who say the world was a better
place to live in then. Maybe it was. I don't
know. All of us do face many problems, many frustrations,
many fears these days. But one fear we don't
have now that just about everyone had then is
the fear of being buried alive. At least I don't
think we have. Our cast included Suzanne Grossman,
Gordon Gould, Anne Petoniak, Ian Martin, Kurt
Benson, and George Lothar. The entire production
was under the direction of Hyman Brown. This
is E .G. Marshall inviting you to return to our
Mystery Theatre for another adventure in the
macabre. Until next time, pleasant... Dreams?