Generic Radio Workshop Script Library (BACK)

Series: Lights Out
Show: The Locked Room Mystery
Date: Oct 23 1935

[The Locked Room Mystery]

NBC

ADVERTISER SUSTAINING / WRITER WILLIS COOPER

PROGRAM TITLE LIGHTS OUT #90 OK

CHICAGO OUTLET WENR (11:30 - 12:00 Mid.) (OCTOBER 23, 1935) (WEDNESDAY)

PRODUCTION

ANNOUNCER

ENGINEER

REMARKS _________________________________________________________


VOICE:

Lights out, everybody!

SOUND:

THIRTEEN CHIME NOTES

WIND UP ON ELEVENTH

OUT BEHIND

GONG

FADE IN:

CHASE:

(READING) A footstep sounded in the stillness of the empty room. Devereux turned. "Good evening," said a suave voice. Who - who are you?" demanded Devereux. "You don't remember me?" said the suave voice, mockingly. "You can't be - Harvey Kerrigan!" gasped Devereux. The other laughed. "I am Harvey Kerrigan in the flesh," he said.

Devereux reached for the telephone. "I wouldn't touch that if I were you," warned the man who called himself Kerrigan. He stepped to the wall and flicked on the lights. Their radiance flooded the room. Devereux noticed that his adversary was weaponless. (TALKS) And there's where I'm stumped.

STEWART:

How come, Sam?

CHASE:

I don't know how to kill the guy.

TAYLOR:

Have him shoot him.

CHASE:

No, I can't. In the chapter ahead of this one, Kerrigan tells his friends that he's going to kill Devereux. And as Kerrigan starts up in the elevator to Devereux' office, his well-meaning friends take his gun away from him - and his pocket-knife, even. He hasn't got a weapon of any kind.

STEWART:

Mightn't they have missed something?

CHASE:

What, for instance?

STEWART:

Might have had a sawed-off shotgun in his sleeve.

CHASE:

Nuts.

TAYLOR:

How about a black-jack?

CHASE:

No.

TAYLOR:

Why?

CHASE:

Well, I want bloodstains, see.

TAYLOR:

Oh. Well, wouldn't there be a paper-knife or something on the writing guy's desk?

CHASE:

No. I made it clear that Devereux always wrote in longhand. In a bare room, like this one - with nothing in it but a table and a chair.

STEWART:

Well, couldn't he stab the guy with a pen?

CHASE:

He uses a pencil.

STEWART:

Huh. Throw him out of the window?

CHASE:

No, that won't do. This guy Devereux is an odd sort of bird. His windows are nailed down in his pent-house room, see. He is a nut on sound-proofing. Has to concentrate, he says. Come on, think of something.

STEWART:

By me.

TAYLOR:

I don't know...

CHASE:

I've got to get something - some way for Kerrigan to murder Devereux, so there can be bloodstains -

TAYLOR:

I give up.

STEWART:

Well, let's have a drink and see if that gives us any inspiration, huh?

CHASE:

You birds are no help at all. Go on, mix yourselves a drink. I'll see what I can do. But for the love o' Mike, think about this thing, will you? I need help.

STEWART:

Come on, Bud. Let's go see if we can mix up an inspiration.

CHASE:

Everything to drink out in the kitchen. Go ahead. Bring me one when you come back.

STEWART:

All right. What you want?

CHASE:

Anything.

TAYLOR:

We'll bring you iced tea.

CHASE:

You bring me iced tea, and I'll make you drink it.

TAYLOR:

Mercy, mercy, massa!

THEY GO, CLOSING THE DOOR QUIETLY BEHIND THEM.

THEN CHASE SITS THERE AT HIS TYPEWRITER. HE HITS A FEW KEYS, GRUMBLES AND X'S IT OUT. A LITTLE MORE SILENCE AND HE STARTS AGAIN AND THEN STOPS AND X'S THAT OUT. HE STARTS AGAIN IN A MOMENT, MORE CONFIDENTLY THIS TIME. WRITES SEVERAL WORDS THEN PAUSES, SAYS "________" AND X'S THAT OUT. HE THEN SITS THERE IN SILENCE A MOMENT AND THE DOOR OPENS.

KERRIGAN:

(SUAVELY) Good evening.

CHASE:

Huh - who - who are you?

KERRIGAN LAUGHS

CHASE:

Who are you? How did you get in here -

KERRIGAN:

My dear Mr. - Chase, is it, or - Devereux?

CHASE:

Who the devil are you?

KERRIGAN:

May name is ... well, it doesn't matter. What seems to be wrong?

CHASE:

I don't know that that's any of your business. Look here, now, how did you get in here? And what do you want?

KERRIGAN:

(LAUGHS) You're not going to throw me out, I hope....

CHASE:

I most certainly am, if you --

KERRIGAN:

Oh, no, don't, I beg of you.

CHASE:

Well -

KERRIGAN:

Ask me to sit down, please do.

CHASE:

Uh - uh - sit down.

KERRIGAN:

Now, can I help you, Mr. Chase?

CHASE:

I want to know how --

KERRIGAN:

How I got in here is of no importance, Mr. Chase.

CHASE:

Well, what do you want?

KERRIGAN:

Don't you want some help?

CHASE:

Are you a friend of Bud Taylor? Of Don Stewart?

KERRIGAN:

I never heard of them.

CHASE:

Hm. Well, I'm sorry, mister. I'm trying to finish a mystery story that I promised a publisher for a week ago, so if you -

KERRIGAN:

And you're having some difficulty in getting rid of one of your characters.

CHASE:

How did you know that?

KERRIGAN:

I found out.

CHASE:

So I see.

KERRIGAN:

If you'd read me what you have there in your typewriter...

CHASE:

Listen, my friend. I'll make you a proposition. If you can show me the way to get out of this jam I've written myself into I'll pay you --

KERRIGAN:

I don't want to be paid, Mr. Chase.

CHASE:

I'll pay you anything in reason.

KERRIGAN:

Suppose you read that last paragraph to me, then ...

CHASE:

Well, I - who the devil - I - oh, all right. Listen. (READS) A footstep sounded in the stillness of the empty room. Devereux turned. "Good evening," said a suave voice. "Who - who are you?" demanded Devereux. "You don't remember me?" asked the suave voice, mockingly. "You can't be - Harvey Kerrigan!" gasped Devereux. The other laughed. "I am Harvey Kerrigan - in the flesh," he said.

Devereux reached for the telephone. "I wouldn't touch that if I were you," warned the man who called himself Kerrigan. He stepped to the wall and flicked on the lights. Their radiance flooded the room. Devereux noticed that his adversary was weaponless. And that's all.

AS HE FINISHES KERRIGAN IS LAUGHING.

CHASE:

What are you laughing at?

KERRIGAN KEEPS RIGHT ON LAUGHING

CHASE:

Look here, now - I'm going to call -

KERRIGAN:

I wouldn't touch that phone if I were you...

CHASE:

What - you - what do you mean?

KERRIGAN:

Wait till I turn on - flick on, I believe - the lights, Mr. Chase....(HE TURNS ON THE LIGHTS)

CHASE:

Who-who are you...

KERRIGAN:

(CHUCKLES A LITTLE) My name, Mr. Chase, is...Harvey Kerrigan.

G O N G

TAYLOR:

An old-fashioned, eh?

STEWART:

Yes, why not? Give me a lump of sugar. Three lumps, if we all want one....

TAYLOR:

Here. Here's the bitters, too...

STEWART:

Good.

TAYLOR:

Got any ideas for Sam's story?

G O N G

CHASE:

So your name's Harvey Kerrigan, ah?

KERRIGAN:

Right.

CHASE:

(AFTER A PAUSE) I - I didn't know there was anybody named Harvey Kerrigan when I chose that name for my villain.

KERRIGAN:

Didn't, eh?

CHASE:

No. I'll - go over what I've written, and change the name.

KERRIGAN:

Don't bother.

CHASE:

You don't mind?

KERRIGAN:

Not at all.

CHASE:

Well...uh...thanks. Would you - like to have a drink?

KERRIGAN:

I don't drink, Mr. Chase, thanks. But perhaps I can help you out with your book.

CHASE:

I'll certainly appreciate it.

KERRIGAN:

Now you had Kerrigan come up to this fellow's room -

CHASE:

Devereux', yes.

KERRIGAN:

-, without any weapons at all.

CHASE:

That's right.

KERRIGAN:

Exactly the same way I came. I haven't any weapons.

CHASE:

Well, I...I'm glad.

KERRIGAN:

How do you want Devereux killed?

CHASE:

He has to be killed some way so there'll be bloodstains.

KERRIGAN:

I see. There isn't a paper-knife on your desk?

CHASE:

No. Nor on Devereux'. As a matter of fact, I made Devereux a good deal like myself. I like to work in this room 'way up here, with the windows nailed down tight, so I can't hear any of the traffic sounds from the street below. And - I thought perhaps that set-up sounded a trifle eccentric, like Devereux was - so I just used myself as a model for the chap.

KERRIGAN:

I see. Well - you have a kitchen here...

CHASE:

Yes. Bud Taylor and Don Stewart are out there now, mixing a drink.

KERRIGAN:

Couldn't I - I mean couldn't Kerrigan have gone to the kitchen and got a butcher knife?

CHASE:

No.

KERRIGAN:

Why not?

CHASE:

Because all the doors from this room have spring locks on them which can be opened only by pressure of this button on my desk.

KERRIGAN:

But what about your friends out in the kitchen. How will they get back in here?

CHASE:

Knock on the door, and I'll press the button. But in the story there was nobody else in the penthouse when Devereux was killed.

KERRIGAN:

Hm. Well, you made it rather hard for yourself, didn't you?

CHASE:

(RUEFULLY) I'm beginning to believe I made it impossible.

KERRIGAN:

Oh, not impossible. We'll just have to think a moment. CHASE: That's what I've been doing for a week.

KERRIGAN:

And getting nowhere.

CHASE:

Right.

KERRIGAN:

Hm. (PAUSE) Well, isn't it reasonable to believe that your character Kerrigan sat also and talked with his victim for a while, whilst his mind was wrestling with the problem of how to murder Devereux?

CHASE:

Probably. But he couldn't have wrestled with it as long as I have.

KERRIGAN:

No. No, that's right.

THERE IS A PAUSE

KERRIGAN:

How do you picture Devereux, Mr. Chase?

CHASE:

Well, a great deal like myself, I'm afraid. Using myself as a model for the character I couldn't help writing a lot of myself into him.

KERRIGAN:

Hmm.

CHASE:

Well, if you can figure it out, Mr. Kerrigan, you're alot smarter than I am.

KERRIGAN:

Perhaps I am, Mr. Devereux.

CHASE:

My name's Chase.

KERRIGAN:

(CHUCKLES) Oh. Is it?

G O N G

STEWART:

Squirt a little soda water on the sugar.

TAYLOR:

Did you put the bitters in?

STEWART:

I will now. (HE SHAKES THE BITTERS IN) Now, put the soda-water in. And then look for some lemon peel, will you?

TAYLOR:

Have I got to do all the work?

HE SQUIRTS SODA WATER INTO THE THREE GLASSES.

STEWART:

I wish I could think up an idea for Sam's story...

G O N G

CHASE:

Just what do you mean by that?

KERRIGAN:

I mean, let's suppose for a moment that you are Devereux. Pretend you are. Try to get into the feeling of the story.

CHASE:

I've done that a million times, and nothing happens.

KERRIGAN:

Well, it won't hurt to try again.

CHASE:

I suppose. Well, what shall I do?

KERRIGAN:

Devereux is supposed to be writing a novel, too, isn't he?

CHASE:

Yes.

KERRIGAN:

Well, you sit there at your typewriter and write. Pretend you are Devereux. And we'll try a little dialogue as Kerrigan and Devereux.

CHASE:

By George, I never thought of that, Mr. Kerrigan. Maybe it'll work.

KERRIGAN:

All right. Imagine that I've just come in - I mean Kerrigan has just come in, as you've written it. You got to the point where I - where Kerrigan turned on the lights. I'll go over there and stand there. (GOING) Maybe I'd better turn 'em off and then turn 'em on again, eh? Make it more realistic.

CHASE:

Sure. Try it that way.

KERRIGAN:

(OFF) All right. They're (CLICK) off. Now - ready? Got your lines?

CHASE:

Go ahead.

KERRIGAN:

Right. (CLICK) Reach for the telephone...

CHASE:

Yes....

KERRIGAN:

I wouldn't touch that if I were you.

CHASE:

And why not?

KERRIGAN:

Because I'll kill you if you do, Devereux.

CHASE:

You will, eh? How?

KERRIGAN:

I came up here to kill you anyway, my friend, and I -

CHASE:

What are you going to kill me with?

KERRIGAN:

I might strangle you, Devereux....

CHASE LAUGHS

KERRIGAN:

I shouldn't laugh, Devereux.

CHASE:

How did you get in here?

KERRIGAN:

A strip of cardboard between the door and the frame, my dear chap, does wonders - even with your electrically-controlled locks.

CHASE:

I see. Well, I have a revolver in this desk drawer.

KERRIGAN:

(CALMLY) You lie. I know you have not.

CHASE:

I tell you I have.

KERRIGAN:

Yes?

HE WALKS OVER AND OPENS THE DESK DRAWER

KERRIGAN:

Where is it?

CHASE:

I - I -

KERRIGAN:

You miserable liar! (HE SMACKS CHASE)

CHASE:

Hey, you don't have to be so dog-gone realistic!

KERRIGAN:

You miserable liar!

CHASE:

Huh? Well - ah -

KERRIGAN:

Sit still, Devereux!

CHASE:

I've got friends within call, and I -

KERRIGAN:

You lie! I know there's nobody in this place except you and me.

CHASE:

And what are you going to do about it?

KERRIGAN:

I'll tell you, Devereux.

CHASE:

(PAUSE) Go ahead.

KERRIGAN:

Have you forgotten a few facts?

CHASE:

What facts?

KERRIGAN:

Have you forgotten how I went to prison in your place fifteen years ago?

CHASE:

You were guilty. I wasn't.

KERRIGAN LAUGHS BITTERLY

CHASE:

You know that's true, Kerrigan.

KERRIGAN:

You were as guilty as I.

CHASE:

Hey - how did you know about that....

KERRIGAN:

You were as guilty as I. And for the fifteen years I suffered in prison, you are going to - pay.

CHASE:

What - what are you going to do?

KERRIGAN:

Devereux, I'm going to torture you as I was tortured. I'm going to see you die a thousand deaths in anticipation before I bestow on you the priceless gift of death that you beg for. I--

CHASE:

Hey, wait a minute till I write that down...that's swell...

KERRIGAN:

I'm going to kill you....Devereux!

G O N G

STEWART:

No, don't put the lemon-peel in till I get the sugar crushed. That's it, cut it in long strings...

TAYLOR:

How much do you put in an old-fashioned?

STEWART:

Oh, a piece about two inches long in each one.

TAYLOR:

Think of an idea for Sam's story yet?

G O N G

CHASE:

Well, that's swell as far as it goes, but we haven't got an idea how he killed him yet.

KERRIGAN:

We'll come to that.

CHASE:

I hope so.

KERRIGAN:

Oh, we'll get it all right. We've got a good start now.

CHASE:

How did you know about the prison business, Kerrigan? You startled me when you rattled it off. You never saw the earlier chapters ...

KERRIGAN:

You've been sending it down chapter by chapter to your publishers, haven't you?

CHASE:

Oh! Do you work for my publisher?

KERRIGAN:

In a way.....in a way....yes.....

CHASE:

Oh, I see, then.

KERRIGAN:

Shall we go on?

CHASE:

Sure, it's kind of fun.

KERRIGAN:

All right. Start from where we left off, eh?

CHASE:

Yeh. You said, "I'm going to kill you...Devereux..."

KERRIGAN:

I'm going to kill you....Devereux!

CHASE:

You're not frightening me at all, Kerrigan.

KERRIGAN:

I'm going to do much more than frighten you, my friend.

CHASE:

I doubt that.

KERRIGAN:

You'll beg and scream for death before I'm done with you. I've fifteen years of heck to pay for, and I'm going to do it!

CHASE:

Would you mind informing me just how you're going to - murder me?

KERRIGAN:

In a very, very horrible way.

CHASE:

Yes?

KERRIGAN:

You thought I'd die in the prison. You thought I'd never get out. You bribed and lied and swore false oaths, and -

CHASE:

You're very dramatic, Kerrigan.

KERRIGAN:

I would advise you, Devereux, to spend your few remaining moments in prayer, rather than in bandying words with me...

CHASE:

(LAUGHS) I say, you really should be an actor, my dear fellow.

KERRIGAN:

Yes. But I was a convict - a felon - an outcast - for all the best years of my life; and now I'm going to play a new part...

CHASE:

And that is?

KERRIGAN:

A murderer.

CHASE:

Delightful.

KERRIGAN:

Rather an executioner. For if ever a man deserved to die, you, Devereux, are he! And die you shall!

CHASE:

I suppose you know you're not frightening me in the least, Kerrigan.

KERRIGAN:

No? (LAUGHS DIRTILY) But I shall frighten you before I am done...

CHASE:

I doubt it.

KERRIGAN:

We shall see. First, before I kill you, though, I want money.

CHASE:

I have no money.

KERRIGAN:

Liar!

CHASE:

I don't give money to every panhandler that approaches me -

KERRIGAN:

But to this very special panhandler, my dear fellow...

CHASE:

I won't give you a cent!

KERRIGAN:

Oh, yes, you will. Get out your check book.

CHASE:

How - how much do you want?

KERRIGAN:

Every cent you have.

CHASE:

Look here, now --

KERRIGAN:

Every cent you have.

CHASE:

See here, I won't --

KERRIGAN:

Devereux, if it were not for me, you would have nothing. Where did you get the capital to set yourself up as a writer? Answer me!

CHASE:

None of your business!

KERRIGAN:

You got it from the loot of that last job we pulled together - the job that I paid for with fifteen years of my life!

CHASE:

So what?

KERRIGAN:

So - write a check for your entire bank balance, now...

CHASE:

I won't!

KERRIGAN PULLS OPEN THE DESK DRAWER

KERRIGAN:

There's your check-book. (SLAPPING IT DOWN ON THE DESK)

CHASE:

I won't write it!

KERRIGAN:

You will....now....

CHASE:

Well, if I do, will you promise to - go away - and not - not -
KERRIGAN LAUGHS

CHASE:

Here - here's the check...now go away...go away...

KERRIGAN:

The last will and testament of Mr. Devereux, the well-known author.....

CHASE:

Swell! Wait, now...

KERRIGAN:

I'm not through with you yet, Devereux...

G O N G

TAYLOR:

Shall I use the jigger, or the little end of the gadget?

STEWART:

Use the big end. Make 'em good and strong. We've got to get some inspiration.

SOUND OF POURING FROM BOTTLE

TAYLOR:

I'll do it. You get some ice...and see if there are any maraschino cherries in the ice-box.

STEWART:

(OFF) If you wouldn't talk so much I could think of an idea for Sam's story...maybe...

G O N G

CHASE:

Well, now, we're about ready to get down to killing the guy. Get any inspirations yet?

KERRIGAN:

I think I have an idea.

CHASE:

Swell. What is it?

KERRIGAN:

Let's go on with our acting a little more.

CHASE:

All right. Say, this is working out all right. Let's see what I've got written now....(READS) "I'm not through with you yet, Devereux!" Kerrigan hissed. No, you can't hiss that. He - uh - grated. Grated, that's it. Kerrigan grated. (X OUT THE "HISSED" AND TYPE IN THE "GRATED" AS HE TALKS) All right. Go ahead.

KERRIGAN:

All right. No, I'm not through with you yet, Devereux. I - I am grateful to you for your little remembrance in your will .... but now we have a task to perform.

CHASE:

What - what are you going to do?

KERRIGAN:

I'm going to kill you.

CHASE:

Hey, don't forget about the bloodstains now. I've got to have bloodstains.

KERRIGAN:

Don't worry about that, Devereux. There will be blood. (LAUGHS DIRTILY) Plenty of blood...

CHASE:

You've got the money, now, Kerrigan, won't you go and leave me alone, now? You've got your revenge --

KERRIGAN:

I have part of my revenge, Devereux.

CHASE:

Don't kill me! Please - don't kill me - Kerrigan -

KERRIGAN:

The police will come and they'll find you dead in your locked penthouse apartment...they'll have to break down the doors... they'll find you, weltering in your own blood...alone...and they'll wonder....wonder who murdered you....

CHASE:

Don't forget about finger-prints, Kerrigan...

KERRIGAN:

What do I care about finger-prints? By the time you are missed and the police are called, and your apartment broken into... I'll be in South America...in some little forgotten town....a new man. And then - the South of France and leisure - paid for by my dear friend Devereux the novelist. (LAUGHS DIRTILY)

CHASE:

You'll never get away with it, Kerrigan.

KERRIGAN:

Think not?

CHASE:

You can't get away with murder.

KERRIGAN:

You almost got away with it, didn't you, Devereux? You thought I would die. You thought I'd never see the outside of those prison walls again. You thought --

CHASE:

You know, something just occurred to me, Kerrigan.

KERRIGAN:

Yes?

CHASE:

I might murder you...

KERRIGAN:

You? (HE LAUGHS DIRTILY)

CHASE:

Perhaps I will...

KERRIGAN:

And how will you murder me, my - friend?

CHASE:

I - don't know...but...I'm as big a man as you, and...

KERRIGAN:

You forget that I have slaved in a prison for fifteen years. Good hard manual labor, Devereux - the judge said "fifteen years at hard labor"...and...well, it was. You would stand no chance at all with me.

CHASE:

I wonder...

KERRIGAN:

I warn you.

CHASE:

It would be worth while - I could live on, happily, with my money that you've --

KERRIGAN:

Your money! That was my money - every cent of it. Money that you stole from me!

CHASE:

Fifteen thousand of it was, Kerrigan...and the check is for a hundred thousand.....

KERRIGAN:

We'll just call that interest, shall we?

CHASE:

It's a lot of money, Kerrigan. You and I - together - in that little place in South America...we could live well...

KERRIGAN:

But you are going to die.

CHASE:

No!

KERRIGAN:

I say you shall!

CHASE:

(TRIUMPHANTLY) How? Remember the blood now -

KERRIGAN:

I am not forgetting the Blood, Devereux - (HE BEGINS TO COME CLOSER TO THE MICROPHONE) I'm not forgetting the blood...

CHASE:

Hey -- that's good enough - hold it -

KERRIGAN:

(LAUGHS DIRTILY) I'm not forgetting the blood - (COMING CLOSER) - not forgetting the blood, Devereux....

CHASE:

SCREAMS

G O N G

STEWART:

Now, where's the soda water?

TAYLOR:

Here.

STEWART:

Fine. Just a squirt in each glass, now...

HE SQUIRTS SODA WATER IN ...

TAYLOR:

Better stir 'em, hadn't you...

STEWART:

Yeh.

HE STIRS THE GLASSES

TAYLOR:

Go ahead, I'll knock on the door....

STEWART:

Right.

THEY START TOWARD THE DOOR.

TAYLOR KNOCKS ON IT.

A BUZZER SOUNDS AND THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN. AS IT SWINGS OPEN ANOTHER DOOR SLAMS SHUT

STEWART:

Who was that?

TAYLOR:

Who was what?

STEWART:

I thought I saw somebody go out that other door.

TAYLOR:

You're nuts. Hey, Sam - old-fashioneds coming up.

STEWART:

Where is he?

TAYLOR:

Sam!

STEWART:

Turn on the lights, Bud.

TAYLOR:

Yeh. (HE DOES SO)

STEWART:

Hey, look!

TAYLOR:

(COMING BACK) What?

STEWART:

Sam got an awful lot done while we were mixing that drink. Look at the pile of pages...

TAYLOR:

Huh. How the dickens could he have done that?

STEWART:

He must have, though, somehow. This is page 256, and he was on page 231 when we left. I remember.

TAYLOR:

But, look, we we're only three or four minutes mixing the drinks...

STEWART:

Hey, Sam! Inspiration!

TAYLOR:

Where could he have gone?

STEWART:

Bud! For the love o' - hey, look here! He - he finished it.

TAYLOR:

Finished what?

STEWART:

The story. Look - the last page here -

TAYLOR:

I'll be - listen. (READS) "I say you shall die!" screamed Kerrigan. Devereux writhed in horror as the other's face was thrust into his own. "No, no, no," he screamed. Devereux chuckled again. "You shall die!" he said. Devereux felt clutching fingers at his throat. He tried to scream again, but it was too late. Great fangs met in his throat, and the bright blood....my Lord!

STEWART:

Boy, he sure got a payoff, didn't he? Whew!

TAYLOR:

Brrr. Terrible!

STEWART:

(CALLS) Hey, Sam, this is a knockout!

TAYLOR:

Sam...

STEWART:

(AFTER A LITTLE PAUSE) Bud....

TAYLOR:

Huh?

STEWART:

Look...behind that chair...

TAYLOR:

Wh-what?

STEWART:

A - a foot, sticking out...

TAYLOR:

G-g-gosh!

STEWART:

What can it --

THEY HURRY OVER TO THE CHAIR

STEWART:

S-ssam!

TAYLOR:

Blood....

STEWART:

Bud...ll-look at...his throat...all torn out...

G O N G

ANNOUNCER:

Lights Out, which is especially written for radio by Willis Cooper, comes to you each Wednesday from our Chicago studios.

el/10/21/35