 Box 13 with the star of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd, as Dan Holliday. You driveling old idiot, what did you do with it? I'm not going to tell you. Shut up, Therese. We've got to find out what he did with that copy book. We've... What's the matter? Look, he's dead. Dead? You killed him. Don't be stupid. He... he just... died. There's no one can prove anything. Just keep your mouth shut and help me find out what he did with the copy book. Well, somebody sends me a copy book through Box 13. Now I wonder why. Now back to Box 13 and Dan Holliday's newest adventure, The Sad Night. It was just a child's copy book. And on the front cover was the name Marina Layton and a date. The year 1930 written a childly scroll handwriting. I rivelled through the pages. There was nothing of interest at least. That's the way it looked then. But Susie thought differently. Maybe it's some kind of a code, Mr. Holliday. Like one to a buried treasure. Susie, with your imagination and my typewriter, we could go places. Well, gee, the kind of Monty Woolley found at buried treasure. That's Monty Crystal, Susie. Two different people. Well, they both had beards. Oh, look. What's that? It's a letter to Box 13. Listen. Box 13. A day or so ago you may have received a child's copy book in the mail. If you did, I should appreciate it if you'd bring it to the address below. Yours truly, Therese Layton. Let me see that, Susie. Here. Six, eight, two, one, Lakeshore Boulevard. Mmm, swanky neighborhood. Are you going to take it back, Mr. Holliday? Oh, yes, Susie. If only to see how the other half lives. So I went to Six, eight, two, one, Lakeshore Boulevard. I tossed the copy book in the back seat of my car and it passed on the floor. Maybe I was thinking about anything but the book for when I rang the doorbell of the big house. I suddenly remembered I'd left the book in the car. You just about started back down after it when the door opened. Yes. I'm looking for Therese Layton. I'm Mrs. Layton. And you? Holliday. Dan Holliday. I'm sorry, Box 13. Oh, of course. Please come in, Mr. Holliday. In the library, please. Thank you. Won't you sit down, Mr. Holliday? Thanks very much. It's very kind of you to come all this way to return the book. You see, it belongs to my little girl. And I suppose she sent the book to you in, well, mischievously. Your little girl? Yes, Marina. Sometimes I think she's a problem child. Oh, really? How old is she, Mrs. Layton? Seven. Did she tell you she sent the book to Box 13? Well, no. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't say. Then her father found a newspaper with an advertisement cut from it. And? He found a paper with the same date and compared the page. Nice detective work, Mrs. Layton. I suppose all this uproar over a child's book seems well stupid, doesn't it? Oh, no, no, no. Not at all. But there's one question I'd like to ask. Yes, Mr. Holliday? You say Marina's seven years old? That's right. Why? There's a date in the book 1930. It seems to have been written the same hand as the rest. That date would make her quite a big little girl, wouldn't it? She put down that date, I suppose. Well, not thinking. Oh, yes, of course. Where is she now, Mrs. Layton? She's dead, Mr. Holliday. Mr. Holliday, this is my husband, Carl. How do you do? I'm very happy to know you, Mr. Holliday. Do you have the book? You get right to the point, don't you? Mr. Holliday, our daughter Marina is dead. We want the book merely for sentimental reasons. I could understand that if your wife hadn't... Lied to you? Bluntly, yes. Theresa, will you excuse us? Yes, yes, I'll be upstairs. My wife isn't well, Mr. Holliday. It's not an easy thing for me to say, but she imagines our daughter is still alive. Look, Mr. Layton, if I'd ever written a story with as many holes in it as yours, I'd be laughed out of the writing game. What do you mean? Your wife says Marina sent me the book. Yet you say Marina's dead. You know, you two should get together. All right, Mr. Holliday, how much do you want for the book? Oh, now we're getting someplace. What's it worth to you? Five hundred. Oh, that's a lot of money for a child's copy book. You asked how much and I told you. Now may I have the book? I don't think so. It's worth nothing to you, Mr. Holliday. Believe me, it's worth absolutely nothing to you. All right, maybe I'm just curious. Tell me why you want the book and maybe we'll do business. I can't tell you. Or you won't tell me, is that it? I want that book now. I haven't got it with me. You're lying. All right, search me. I haven't got it with me. I forgot it. You're going to be difficult. Look, the book was sent to box 13, obviously, not by you, your wife, or your daughter. You found out it was sent when you traced my end, right? All right, that means someone else sent it to me. I'll return the book when I find out who and why. Mr. Holliday, I'm going to get that book. All right, all right, we'll play a game. Book, book, book. Who's got the book? Now goodbye, Mr. Layton. Goodbye, Mr. Holliday. You can find your way out, I hope. I think so. Oh, any time you want to tell me the reason behind all this, we may be able to do business. I think we'll do business, Mr. Holliday, later. I left, and when I got home, I spent the rest of the day and most of the evening trying to figure out why anyone would be so anxious to get hold of the book. It was filled with a kid's scrolling handwriting, sums in addition, problems in subtraction, alphabets. Then I came to one page and stopped. It was filled with strange, weird-looking figures as a kid would try to draw human beings. But there was something about them that didn't look like a kid's work. They were grotesque, almost fiendish faces and distorted twisted bodies. And underneath were three words in Spanish. La nocha chiste. The sad night. The words were scrawled, too, but somehow they were different from the rest in the book. I kept turning back to that page, wondering, trying to connect something in my mind with those figures in the book. And I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew it was three in the morning, turned off my light, lay back in bed, then I was getting company unexpected and I wasn't in the mood to entertain. Well, well, well, what a wonderful thing a skeleton key is like the magic words, open sesame. Somebody was looking for something, and it wasn't Easter eggs on the White House lawn. I waited, and then... Looking for something, bud? For it was in wait for the floor show. I turned on the light. Yeah. He'd grabbed the book, but he had left a knife behind. One that I picked up with a handkerchief. If there were fingerprints, it would introduce me to the jet. And Kling could do me that favor. Got any idea who it was, holiday? No, I haven't, Kling. We had our waltz in the dark. Must have been romantic. Oh, yes, yes, I was overcome. Look, can you get Prince off that knife handle? Seems to me you could pick an easier way of meeting people. Oh, I like the hard way. It makes for lasting friendships. Look, did he try to knife you? Well, I don't think he was doing KP with it. Why was he after you? He wasn't. Oh, see, he breaks in at three in the morning. You surprise him, he pulls a knife on you, but he wasn't after you. Maybe it was just a social call, or maybe he was a visiting nurse. Kling, will you see about those prints? Yeah, if you'll prefer charges. Maybe, but, uh, more important, he took something I want back. What? A child's copy book. A child? You know, holiday, the more I see of you when there's box 13 gimmick you run, the more I believe in elves and pixies. Why did you have a child's copy book? I'm learning to write. You're gonna keep this all yourself, huh? I'll find out what it's all about. Okay. Well, from what you say about the cookie who disturbed your beddy by this morning, he might have a record. In that case, you can tell me who he is. You don't want me to pick him up? No, I'd rather have the pleasure. You see, he hung one on my chin. He hung one on his... Ha, ha, ha, ha! All right. Come back in an hour. Oh, Mr. Holiday. Gee, I've been trying to get in touch with you all morning. Now is it headquartered, Susie? Oh, what'd you do? Oh, no, don't jump to conclusions. Why were you trying to get in touch? Look. Huh? When did this come? This morning. I picked up box 13 mail at the Star of Times and that note was in it. Mm-hmm. Well, as they say in the books, Susie, the plot thickens. In fact, it's so thick now I can't see a thing. How'd you get that bruise on your chin? I shade with the baseball bat this morning. Oh. Well, are you gonna meet Marina Layton? Yeah, that's what she asked me to do in her letter. So if you want me, I'll be at... At where she says, the lobby of the Camden Hotel. So I got to the lobby of the Camden Hotel. It wasn't hard to find Marina Layton. She was dressed as she said she'd be. I took a good look before walking over to her. She was about, uh, 24, not pretty, but one of those faces that always says, uh, wonderful day, isn't it? Okay. So maybe now I'd find out what all the excitement was about. I walked over. Oh, pardon me. Are you Marina Layton? Yes. And you're... That's it. Box 13. You know, I didn't think there was such a thing. I thought this would all turn out to be some sort of a joke. Oh. Well, uh, do we sit here? If you like. Well, may I have it, Mr... Holiday. First name's Dan. All right. May I have the book, Dan? I, uh... I haven't got it, Marina. But you must have it. Mark said he sent it to you. Oh, no, no. Another character in the show. And who's Mark? He was my father's dearest friend. But surely you ought to know that. Look, Marina, I... I don't know a thing. I... Wait a moment. Here. Here's his letter to me. You want me to read it? Yes. Dear Marina. For years I've kept something from you that your father wanted you to have. Now I know someone else wants it. But you can have it by writing to Box 13, Care of the Star Times. I want to write more, but I don't dare. Just remember your own name is a clue. Love. Mark. Well? Well, what if your father wanted you to have what he gave to this Mark? Why didn't he try to get it from me? Who? Who tried to get what from you? Your father and mother, they... That's crazy. My mother died when I was born. And my father disappeared almost five years ago. Oh, now it begins to make some sense. Not much, but a little. What are you talking about? The character who said he was your father. He wanted that copybook of yours. He must have found out in some way that Mark had it. But who was the man? I don't know. He said he was your father. I don't understand all this. Makes two of us. But listen, I... What's the matter? How do I know you're Marina Leighton? But I am. Yeah, I guess you are. Because since someone already took the copybook from me earlier this morning, it'd be a little senseless to try to get it this way. All right, Marina. What do you know about a copybook, yours, with the date 1930 written in it? Copybook? Mine? But nothing, nothing at all. Oh, now, wait a minute. All this business has to mean something. Don't you even remember a copybook? I suppose I must have had one. I... Wait, of course. Black, ragged-looking. Alphabets in it. That's it. Now, what about it? Nothing. It was just an ordinary book. I scribbled in it and... Did you say 1930? Yes, wow. Because in 1930, I was with my father in Mexico. I had the book then because I was being tutored by Mark and I used it for my lessons. Did you write anything in it that might... well, that might be important? No, not a thing. Oh, you must have. I didn't. Did you write the Spanish words la noche trista? Well, that means the sad night. Yes, I know. Did you write them? No, I don't think so. Then your father must have. But why? Are you sure those words were in the book? Well, of course I am. Oh, well, would Mark know? Mark? Why, Mark's dead. And now back to the sad night, another box 13 adventure with Alan Land as Dan Holliday. Went to the place where Mark had lived. Yes, he was dead. Heart failure, the doctor said. But we learned something else. That he had had visitors the night he had died. And from the description of them, they could have only been the man and woman who posed as Marina's parents. And I learned a few things more from Marina that her father was an archaeologist in 1930 who was excavating Aztec ruins outside Mexico City. He was on the way back to Cling's office in my car that she told me some more. Father disappeared in Brazil almost five years ago. Then the remains of his expedition were found. And your father? He, he died. But he left records, letters for the museum. And anything for you? No, nothing. Are you sure? Yes. I wrote letters to the museum yet nothing for his daughter. Why do you say it like that? Doesn't it seem odd that he should leave letters and records for everyone but you? Yes, it does. There are a lot of things that seem odd. You wait here, Marina. I'll be right up. Just about to leave for your office. Oh, what did you find out? You were a distinguished company this morning. Little Georgie Garson, strong man, General Hoodlum. I didn't think it was Little Eva. Want me to pick him up? Yeah, I'd love your company. Okay, Cling, let's go. I want to ask Georgie some questions. It took Cling about five minutes to get Georgie to talk. He told us he'd been hired to get that book and from his description of the guy who hired him. Well, it couldn't have been anyone else but the man who posed as late the day before. And a quick trip to the house on Lakeshore Boulevard. We might as well have stood in bed. The fake Mr. and Mrs. Layton were gone and with them, the copy book. And that left us at a dead end, but dead. But at the morgue of the start times, Marina and I learned something else. I think we got lots of stuff on Albert Layton. Try it out, Josie. He's the one who got himself lost in Brazil about five years ago, isn't he? Yeah, that's right. Here's a folder on him, news clips, photos. That's Dad. Look, who's this Josie? Let me see. Oh, that's the guy you found, Layton, or what was left at the expedition. Name of Carl Bremer. Mr. Bremer and the gent who wanted that book are one and the same. Did you ever see Marina? Not that I remember. Where were you when your father went to Brazil? In school. And you didn't see him again after you left for Brazil? No. Josie, do you know a lot of things? What are the Spanish words? La noche, tree-staming, do you? Nothing except they mean they say at night. Is that all? Yeah, why? Can you get a sample of your father's handwriting? Oh, yes, of course. And I've got a hunch that Bremer and his wife are leaving for Mexico. Hey, Dan. Yeah? Look, this Layton was an archeologist. Why don't you go to the museum to find out about him? Good idea, Josie. Thanks. But I've got a phone call to make first. If my hunch is correct, we've got to stop Bremer from getting to Mexico. Let me get this straight, Dan. You want this Bremer and his wife picked up, huh? Yeah, that's it. What's the charge? You pick them up. And maybe one of them will be murder. What? Will you do it? Well, what if they're out of the country by now? Exidite them. You've got to have a strong charge to do that. I have. One, causing the death of an old man by trying to force something out of him. Two, hiring Georgie Garcin to break into my apartment. And three, attempting to defraud. Is that enough? Make those charges stick. You get them and I'll make them stick. Marina got a sample of her father's handwriting. Is this what you wanted? You sure this is your father's handwriting? Of course. That's a letter from him just before he left for the interior of Brazil. But the writing in the book, it was nothing like this. Well, maybe he didn't write it. He must have. Wait a minute. Mind if I write on the other side of this paper? No. Okay. Now watch. I'm right-handed. But suppose I write like this with my left hand. What's it look like? Just a scrawl. Sure, as a kid would write. As you would have written in 1930. But why would he have done that? To make it look as though you had written it. That doesn't make sense. It does make sense if you realize that your father had learned something, something that was big enough to make him want to hide it. And where would he hide it? In a place no one would ever think of looking for it. A kid's copy book. No. No, he kept his notebooks. Everything he did was in his own notes. But not this. What was he doing with them in 1930? I told you, working on the Aztec ruins outside of Mexico City. And what did he find? His findings were published. The museum. What's the matter with me? Come on, Marina. Maybe we're getting someplace. Yes, of course I know Albert Layton's work. He was a great man. The world has lost a genius, Miss Layton. Too bad. Look, Mr. Dougal, we want you to help us. I'll do my best. You said over the phone that it was important. I had something to do with our Mexican antiquities here at the museum. Yes, that's right. What did Professor Layton send here? Well, come in here, into the Aztec room. I remember all these things. Of course, everything isn't here. The Mexican museums were given their share. Oh, pardon me. Look, what's the matter? Look, on that far wall, those figures. Oh, yes, well, they're only copies. Quite well done, of course. The original paintings were lost when the Spaniards destroyed the temples. The Aztecs were jealous and more like people. Because on the far wall, were the same figures I'd seen in that copy book. The same grotesque, weird figures with their twisted bodies and savage faces. There were three of them. Their painted eyes looked out at us, seemed to accuse us. I turned to the curator. Mr. Dougal. Yes, Mr. Holliday. What are those figures? Well, they're Aztec guards. The one on the left is Quetzalcoatl, supreme god of the Aztecs. The one on the upper right is Witsi Lopokli. He's one of my favorites, a god of war. The one at the base of the triangle is Talalac, a god of rain. Marina, those were the figures in your copy book. And they were above the words La Nocha Triste. But why? Why should dad have done that? Mr. Dougal, what is that triangle? Well, where each of those figures is painted was a temple long ago destroyed by the Spaniards on the far wall. In the center was one of the causeways that led to Tenochtitlan. That's today's Mexico City. It was over that causeway that the Spaniards made their escape on La Nocha Triste. La Nocha Triste. Look, sit down, Mr. Dougal. I want you to tell me a lot more. The curator talked for an hour. And what he told Marina and me all added up. The copy book, the figures of those figures were all painted. The copy book, the figures of those old Aztec gods. All Marina's father had something all right. And he hid it in that copy book. No wonder Bremer wanted it. No wonder Old Mark had kept it and the whole thing made a story that went back over 400 years. A story of greed and bloodshed. One that reached out to touch me, Marina, Old Mark, Bremer, all of us. Later in Kling's office facing the Bremer's with Marina sitting there, too. All right, Holiday. Let's have it. First I'll take that copy book, Bremer. All right. What good will it do you? None. And it wouldn't have done you any good, either. What do you mean? You caused the death of one man to get this. Another man, famous, respected, lost his head and tried to keep what he had found. But it wouldn't have done your father any good, either, Marina. No, I know. What's the story, Dan? Really begins Kling when Bremer found the remains of the late expedition in Brazil. He found letters, records. He brought some of them back with him, but some he didn't. That right, Bremer? You know everything. You tell it. Thank you, I will. One of the letters was to Marina. Marina, whose name is the same as the Indian girl who was Cortez's consort. That was the one you kept, Bremer. A letter telling Marina about the copy book and what it contained. All right, all right. What is it, Holiday? Let's go back to July 1st, 1520, to Hernan Cortez and his army. The army that marched through Mexico and destroyed the Aztecs empire. That's got something to do with all this? Everything. On that night, the Aztecs rose up in fury against the Spaniards. They had thought Cortez and his men were gods, but they'd found out differently. They determined to drive the Spaniards out forever. The Spaniards took all the gold they could carry. The Aztecs went after them. They trapped Cortez and his army on one of the causeways that led to the city. The causeways were narrow. There were thousands of Indians in canoes. All night long, the battle went on. Until in the morning, 450, the Spaniards were dead in thousands of Aztecs. But Cortez and the remnant of his army escaped. Got to the mainland. And the copy book? Those three words, Lanoche Trieste, the sad night, are written in the Mexican history as the night Cortez and his army and the Aztecs fought and killed each other until the canals were choked with them. The gold the Spaniards took with them didn't know good. They couldn't fight with it or eat it. So sobbing and screaming, they dumped the treasure into the waters of the canal and it sank into the mud at the bottom. It's never been found. Marina's father thought he had located it. But look, here's a map of modern Mexico City. Where the causeways once ran. There are streets and houses. So you see, no one will ever find that gold. And maybe... maybe it's just as well. It's... it's too red with blood to be of any use to anyone. But gee, Mr. Holiday, if all that gold's there, why doesn't somebody go after it? Oh, you too, Suzy. No, I guess not. But oh, tell me something, Mr. Holiday. What were the names of those Aztec gods? Uh, quit... Uh, Wankin', Blankin' and Not. Good night, Suzy. Next week, same time, through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, Alan Lanth stars as Dan Holiday in Box 13. Box 13 is directed by Richard Sandville with an original story by Russell Hughes. Original music is composed and conducted by Rudy Schrager. Part of Suzy is played by Sylvia Picker and that of Lieutenant Kling by Edmund MacDonald. Production is supervised by Vern Carstensen. This is a Mayfair production from Hollywood. Watch for Alan Ladd in his latest Paramount Picture.