 Inner sanctum mysteries. Good evening, friends of the creaking door. This is your host to welcome you once again into the Inner Sanctum. Come in. Meet Edgar, our electrical wizard. At school he was voltage the most likely to shock him dead. Edgar's wife was a dull name so he plugged her into a wall socket. Now you should see the way she sparkles. Yes, sir, now she's the light of the party. Ever roll your eyes over the dream of a half million dollars? You did. Careful, friend, or that dream would become a nightmare. We're in White Oak, a gloomy estate somewhere along the jagged coastline between Frisco and Seattle. On the floor in a corner of the library staring blindly at the ceiling is an old man. Across the room is a young man mortally wounded but fighting to keep the thread of life from snapping. Ten feet away from him is an old-style floor safe. The door of the safe is blown off and the contents scatter and lying nearby. He tries to get up but he can't. His hand creeps to a bundle of cash and drops helplessly over it. Gus, Gus Miller. Yeah? Open your eyes. Come on, son. Show fight. Don't cash in yet. Who are you? Sheriff Ben Lomax, Gus. Gus, how'd you know my name? Went through your bags. You've been masquerading as Tom Reed. Where am I? In the county hospital. You take a lot of killing but next stop is the county morgue. Ray for me. You wouldn't be busting with curiosity about me, Sheriff. You wouldn't be busting to talk, son. Yes, I am. If you'll listen. That's what I'm here for. Gus Miller's my name. Check back on my pedigree and you'll find I've been a number more than I've been Gus Miller. The kid who went right out of an orphan's home into the big jail at San Quentin. Number 562317 was my name for ten years. 562317. Every night before turning in I swore that 562317 is how many bucks it would cost society. Square accounts with me. Go on. I was a day out of the clink, laying around the Frisco docks wondering where I could hustle a buck. Big liner just came in out of the Pacific fog. One of those swank pleasure liners. I watched the passengers getting off. All dressed to kill without a care in the world. Mungle with Tom Reed tricked out in a white sailing suit. My eyes kept wandering over them. Thought kept jabbing at me that here is a guy I could be if I played my cards right. We're about the same age, build average looking guys. Except that Reed was a little pale around the guild. All Reed had on me was a bankroll. You drive it, car rolled up and Reed went to it. I went after him. What scheme I had in mind I'm not clear on anymore. Yes, is there something you want? Hey, driving north. Looking for a ride, are you? Yeah, looking to get a hitch. Okay, hop in. I'm Tom Reed. My name's Gus Miller. How far are you going? As far as I can get, I guess. No destination? No destination. How far are you going? About 200 miles, White Oaks. Ever hear of White Oaks? No, I never do. The show place of the Pacific Coast. I'm the last of the reeds of White Oaks. You bragging or crying? Both, maybe. Why are you so tough? You're too rich for my blood, maybe. I suppose there is something indecent about too much money at that. Have you got too much money? A half million in three days. Why in three days? My inheritance comes due then. That's why I'm back in the state. How do you collect a half a million? There's a bank teller piled up in gold pieces in front of you? No, a blind uncle you haven't seen in years taps his cane along the floor towards a safe that's been in the family for generations and opens it. And hands you half a million just like that? Just like that. My father distrusted banks. I turned to figure over in my mind a half a million. Saw Reid looking queerly at me out of the corner of his eye. You're burning up with temptation, Millen. I don't know what you're talking about. Poses me for three days, then go off with all that money. Uncle Walter will never detect the masquerade. He's blind and you're a pretty good faker. That's what you're telling yourself. Where are you all the time I'm posing? Dead somewhere. You've murdered me. For having the idea like that for a minute, Reid's openness put the kibosh on it. We chewed up about a hundred miles when I caught that funny look crossing Reid's face again. I watched the hand clap over his heart. Reid seemed to sag and the car began to circle wildly. I grabbed the wheel in the nick of time. I pulled it aside and shut the motor. What's hit you, Reid? My heart. How bad is it? I had a little doctor gave it a year. I've been short changed by two weeks. Get me to a doctor. I stalled. There was a little man counting out 500,000 in my mind slowly by one. Reid's eyes were on me. They were dying eyes, but I caught a twinkle as if you're amused over something. It's a chance, Millie. Just sit it out under the stars. Forget the doctor. I like most about you as your sense of humor. I'm taking you to that doctor. Thanks, doctor. But don't bother. It's too late. Reid. Bury me somewhere as Gus Miller. You'll be Tom Reid for three days. It was too late to play Boy Scout and race for the doctor. Reid was the deadest man in the world. I told myself that Reid's dying crack practically made me his heir. I didn't have to tell myself anything. The little man was counting 500,000 in my head fast by 50s. I found a natural lake about five miles up a side road. The region was a dead end, not a house or a human anywhere in miles. I swapped clothes with Reid, weighed his pockets with stones and said goodbye and let him slip. Well, our downtrodden hero is on the upgrade now. A half-million-spondulix. Nice pay just for giving a corpse a bath at a roadside lake. Guess might run into something unexpected at White Oak. Still needs a time to try or fry. Let's see what you've got. Let's see what you did, shall we? I got to White Oaks in an electric storm where the skies give me a 21 gun soon. The house was up in an elevation. Everything about it seemed to say keep out. And not a soul in sight. Where was the blind uncle? Anybody home? Near the echo hanging in the air. Then, coming at me out of the shadows, he'll reach for me. I could feel my voice crawling. Uncle Waller. Give me a hand if you'll. Sure. It's been so long since I felt the warmth of a Reid hand. Your hand is perspiring. It's gloss in here. I've been in the rush since Frisco. Is something wrong? Your voice, it's changed. For the better? It's deeper. Well, wait a minute, Arnold. Who will climb it? It's been a long time, Uncle. Yes, yes. It's been a long time. Margaret, your fiancé will be here tomorrow to greet you. Margaret? He's coming? Tomorrow? Yes. How is Margaret? She's grown into a fine woman. She'll make you a good wife, Tom. When did the wedding bells ring out? The day you take your inheritance, as your father wished it. You and Margaret were playmates as children and your father wanted someone close to have his money after you. And this letter from Margaret came the other day. If you'd like to read it. Sure. Yeah, I'll read it in bed. Good night, nephew. A bride went with a 500,000. I opened her letter. I needed a line. I read the opening paragraph again and again until it was whispering in my brain. I wonder how meeting Tom again, Uncle Walter. We were practically infants the last time together. The questions that keep crowding my mind. What does he look like? What does he think about? Will he like me enough? And will you like me too, dear Uncle Walter? I had all the line on her I needed. Margaret didn't know Tom read from Adam. The next morning I drove into the one horse burg they called town. I wanted to buy a paper and some odds and ends. I left the general store and a fat little guy in a seaman's outfit who'd been hanging around inside followed me out. I started the car when he drifted over. You going to White Oak's friend? Sure. How'd you guess? The car. It's the job read rather than Frisco yesterday. Can I ride along with you? Yeah. You're going to White Oak? Uh-huh. I'm Tom Reed's guest. Okay. Sure. How about a friend of Tom? Well kind of. I was a purser on the ship he came over on. We hit it off and I got invited to his wedding. What do you do with Tom Reed, mister? I don't get you. I get you. You're playing at being Reed. You're wearing his clothes. You're driving his car. When you pay for some junk at the store, you flash the wallet. I remember seeing on Reed. But you're needing a sweat. Maybe we can do business. For how much? Half, if you're just masquerading, or if you killed him. Didn't kill him. A heart attack did it. I just ditched the body. Is it half? I'll let you know. What are you stopping for? Can't hold myself for a minute. Find my smokes here. This compartment. I thought you said smokes. There's smokes. But all six bullets. Get out of the car. Start for the woods. Is that how you want it? That's the way it's got to be. All or nothing. No deals with a blackmailer. He sat down on a slow, wriggling motion, then fell over on his side into the weeds. I started to drag him through the weeds, looking for a place to hide him until I could get some tools and bury him later. And suddenly, there's another horn back on the road making my crazy. Some motor's unable to get past my parked car on a narrow road. I left Trace as he was and ran to the car. It was a girl and a snappy convertible. Move over. I can't get by. Sure. Are you hunting? Hunting? Why do you ask that? I heard shooting. Why, uh, I took pot shots of some rabbits. Any luck? No. I'm on bad chat. Too bad. Am I on the road to White Oaks? Sure. You wouldn't be Margaret. Yes. I'm Margaret. Hello. I'm Tom Reed. You're Tom Reed? Disappointed. Don't mind my staring. Aren't you going to show me the way, Tom? The way you keep staring is getting my curiosity up. I'm sorry. I'm like she couldn't control her eyes. She couldn't put it. I followed the direction of a stair. Suddenly it hit me. Murder was written all over me. There was blood all over my clothes and my shirt right down to my shoes. It was as if Tracey's corpse was standing beside me, telling it to the world. In those woods. You killed somebody in there. That's what those shots were. You killed Uncle Walter. Now you're talking crazy. A hobo stuck me up. I grabbed his gun and finished him. You don't believe me, huh? No. And you're not Tom Reed. You got a picture of him grown up, huh? Yes. Nice and frank and open, huh? Being that honest is going to cost you something. Well, don't you scream or something? I'd rather do this. It's exactly where you are. Let's open the gun in the maroon convertible. You know how to shoot it? Try me and see. Kid, I got to try you. Whether I like it or not, I got to know. Here's that. I'm shooting for a girl. My turn. Now, shooting first made it easier for me. The way it was like self-defense. I'm still kidding myself. Funny you. It was hello, goodbye. I met a girl and killed her. All in less than five minutes. 500,000 was coming a lot harder than I figured, all right. I was running out of time. The play now is to grab what was in the safe one way or another and lamb is far from the two stiffs and the blind uncles I could get. They got to the safe and began to work at the dials. They heard Uncle Walter tapping his way to him. Tom. Tom. Yes. Yes, Uncle Walter. Oh, Margaret isn't coming. No, not not yet. She'll be along. Give me your hand, nephew. Where is it? Here. What do you do? Read palms or your fingers? Yes, nephew. There are flecks of dirt on the palm. It's as if you've had your hands on the ground. That's not bad. You ought to be a detective. You didn't know to smell of blood. Let go of my hand. What's wrong, Tom? I will skip that. Now listen carefully. I got a gun in my hand pointing right at you. You ought to tap your way to that floor safe and open it with no stalling and no questions. I said no questions. I don't know the combination from memory. I said no stalling. If you listen, the combination is on the memorandum pad in the library desk. Get it. He tapped his way along the floor to the desk, stooped over a drawer, and stayed there in a crouch like a guy in a trench. There was a gun pointing in front of him. Are you crazy old coat? What good is a gun going to do you blind? You won't get a cent, imposter. He shot me. Perfect Marklunch. Like you could see right along with anybody. He'd aimed in the direction of my boys. I figured I moved to a side quickly and emptied my gun. That's all. You fixed the glycerin charge in the can and blew the safe wall? It was a trick I picked up but there are chemicals in the store on the White Oaks. Nerve are you still going for the money with all those bullets in here? Like you said, I don't kill easy. Well, you're tough, but the joke's on you all around. Sure it's on me. Dying empty handed. Oh, it's on you even more than that son. The old man wasn't blind and he wasn't Uncle Walter. No, for a fact, like you, he was just playing along. He'd been the butler before he killed Uncle Walter. You see, he never thought Tom reads a bad heart that'd allow him to take that trip from Honolulu. Well, what's funny, son? The joke was on me all around. Funny twist. A young man plots his rise to fortune and then finds he can't even get up off his back. One barren blessing, though, he's got all the time now in the next world to count off that 500,000 infractions. May he rust in peace. Well, friends, it's time once again to close that creaking door until next week at the same time when we'll be back with a little hunk of horror. You'll be sure to listen aren't you? Until next week then, good night, pleasant dream. Inner Sanctum has come to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.