 The Mutual Broadcasting System presents Murder by Experts. With your host and narrator, Mr. John Dixon Carr, world-famous mystery novelist and author of the recently published bestseller, The Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Good evening. This is John Dixon Carr. Each week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story of crime and mystery which has been chosen for your approval by one of the world's leading detective writers. Tonight, our guest expert is the noted mystery novelist William Irish. From the many thrillers he has read and enjoyed, Mr. Irish has selected a most unusual story of Mounting Terror by Sidney Morris. And now we present Gertrude Warren and Bernard Grant in The Dark Island. Look now at the small tree-covered island, lying in darkness several miles off the rocky coast of Maine. Now and then the moon breaks through the clouds, revealing for a few brief moments the figure of a girl, pacing back and forth on the boat landing by the water's edge. She watches anxiously as a small launch approaches the island. Why doesn't he hurry? Why doesn't he hurry? He won't stay on this island another moment, another moment! You all right, ma'am? I saw your emergency flare from a mainland. I came right away. Oh, thank heaven you're here, Sheriff. I couldn't have stood it another minute. I was going out of my mind. Oh, you're crying. What's wrong? What's the trouble, ma'am? Take me to the mainland. Take me to the mainland! Sure, ma'am. Sure. But don't you think first you better take me away from here. Take me away! Yeah, let me help you. And I'll sit over here, ma'am. Before I shove off, is anything you want from the lord? Oh, no! Just get me away from here. Get me away! Just as you say, ma'am. Ma'am, this is my office. I have a seat. Thank you. How support you tell me what's happened, right? It's like a nightmare. A confused nightmare. All of it telling me longer what part of it was real. Calm down, ma'am. Tell it to me in your own way. Now, think back. Must have had some starting point. Things generally do. Some starting point. It began that morning I saw him for the first time. Only been last spring. A small boat put in at our dock, and Philip came walking up the path of the launch. I can see him now. Tall and sunburned, with the wind blowing through his blonde hair. He was the handsomest man I'd ever seen, despite the long, cruel skull on his chief. He smiled for a moment as he saw me, and then he spoke. Hello there. Hello. They told me over on the mainland that you have an empty cottage here. Would you care to rent it to me for a few months? Rent the cottage? Why, my father would never rent it. The people on the mainland know that. Yes, they told me, but this island looks so peaceful, so secluded. I thought I'd ask personally. Do you think it would do any good at all if I were to speak to your father? Oh, my father died two months ago. Oh. Oh, I'm very sorry. They didn't mention that back at the hotel. It's quite all right. I hope you won't think I'm being inquisitive, but who else lives on this island? No one. I live alone. Alone? Yes. Isn't it rather lonely? Oh, no. I'm quite used to being alone. Even when my father was alive, I was alone most of the time. What about visitors from the mainland? Oh, father describes them. As a result, no one ever comes here. Your father even educated himself. He was a doctor. Really? Well, so am I. My name is Duval, Philip Duval. Well, I'm Eve Winters. Winters? Your father wasn't by any chance Dr. Malcolm Winters, was he? Yes. Well, this is a surprise. I've read both of your father's books on criminal psychology. Oh, yes. He had great perception, great understanding of the criminal mind. Well, I know very little about it. Oh, yes, of course. I do hope you'll forgive me my curiosity. But why did your father give up his position in the medical world and simply disappear without a trace? I don't know. I should very much like to have met him. You see, I, too, am writing a book on criminal psychology. That's why I need the college, so I can work under student. Oh, I see. Yes, it's just impossible to work at the hotel. There's so much talk going on about the murder that I find- Murder? Yes. Haven't you heard? No. I'm afraid I know very little of what happened on the mainland. Well, perhaps it's just as well as there's been too much talk about it already. Well, no, please. I want to hear about it. This morning, a young girl was found murdered. She even slashed death. Oh, how horrible. It was another scalpel killing. Exactly like the other two. There were others besides the poor girl found this morning? Yes. In the past two months, three women have been killed in identical fashion. Their throats cut by a surgeon scalpel. A surgeon scalpel? Yes. Well, have they caught the murderer yet? No. The authorities were questioning everyone this morning, but they are never catching. It's far too clever for them and their stupid methods. They don't realize that they're dealing with a mind that's... Seems I'm overgiving a lecture. Goodbye, Ms. Wences, and if there's anything I can do for you, I'm staying at the Stratford Hotel. Thank you, but I never go to the minimum. Goodbye. Doctor? Yes. Um, there's really no reason why I shouldn't let you use the cottage. So, if you still want to... That's the most generous of me. You have no idea how much this means to me. You can move into the cottage any time. Well, it so happens that everything I own is in the boat. So there's no need for me to go back to the hotel. Oh, I see. I'm most grateful for the cottage, Ms. Wences. And I promise I'll do my best to keep out of your way. Within an hour, he'd moved in. A week went by, and except for the glimpses I caught of him riding at his desk by the window, I saw very little of him. And then one day we met at the well, and soon we were meeting every day. Strange the way one can be so lonely, and then suddenly life becomes wonderful. Each day happier than the last. But one day, Phillip would finish his book and leave. And once more, I would be alone. Eve, where are you? Oh, here I am, Phillip. I just received a letter from my publishers. They like the 30 chapters I've already sent them, and they're going to publish the book as soon as I complete the rest. That's wonderful, Phillip. They haven't much more, have they? No, just a final chapter on the Bluebeard complex at Lawley Post. Well, where will it go? Go? I've been so busy this past month that I... I hadn't thought about it. Somehow I've come to accept this island as my home. Perhaps it's come to mean home because of you. Really? Eve, I'm a fool. I've been so busy with the book I've never stopped to tell you how much I love you. How much I need you. If you only knew how much I wanted to hear you say to me. Please, darling, will you marry me? Will you marry me? Oh, I was happier than I thought anyone could be. A few days later, we went to the mainland and were married. We spent only a few hours on the mainland, for after 15 years of living on the island, the townspeople, the noise, and constant movement were more than I could stand. Phillip and I returned to the island that same day. The week stood by swiftly. Phillip worked on his book and I looked back to him. And then one night after we'd been married a month, I was awakened by Phillip. Eve, wake up, wake up. He was standing here and bought a clothes closet. I awoke to find you getting out of bed. Your eyes were wide open, darling, yet when I spoke to you, you didn't answer. You just walked over to the clothes closet as though in trance. And then you awakened me? Yes. I'd never walked in my sleep before you. Well, don't worry about it, darling. You'd better go back to bed. We'll talk about it in the morning. But with morning came the time and the night was quickly forgotten. Phillip continued to work on his books and read unpublished medical papers left by my father. And then one morning, shortly before dawn, I awoke to find Phillip's bed empty. I'm slept in. I quickly dressed and went to his study. He was sitting in his desk, his eyes, bloodshot, staring into space. I placed my hand on his shoulder. Eve! Is anything wrong? Wrong? Yes, you've been your own mate. What were you doing? Why, I was reading your father's books and the material he left at his death. Phillip, there is something wrong, isn't there? I feel it. It's in this room. There's nothing wrong? It's just your imagination. Are you sure? Yes, of course I'm sure. All right, then. Eve? Please? Tomorrow is the first of the month. I promised my publisher I'd be in Boston on the first to discuss my book. It'll mean a trip away from the island for a night. Well, when do we leave? Eve, would you mind very much if I were to go alone? Hello? Well, I'll really be tied up with my publisher most of the time. Besides, you know how you wait for noise if you feel you're the man. I suppose it would be foolish of me to go along. You seem busy. I knew you'd understand. When do you think you'll leave? I'll have to pick the mean thing in Boston. I just have time to touch it. I'll be back. I'll be tomorrow evening. Is that who was gone? Something had happened that night. Something that threatened our marriage and our future. And I didn't know what it was. How empty the large was we'd been going. I returned to the study and began to straighten out the papers on a desk. Then, as I opened one of the drawers, I saw them. Hundreds of clippings from newspapers all over the country. And all of them... About the skeletal cure. Why had he collected them? Why? And suddenly I was afraid to think again. I began to count the minutes and hours until he should return. I never knew a night and a day could be so long. It lost his photos at the bank. And a minute later, he came up the stairs to the yard. Hello? How are you, darling? Did you have a nice trip? A nice trip. A nice trip? Yes, I suppose. Is anything wrong? There's nothing wrong. Oh, I'm just tired, that's all. Oh, that's all right, darling. You'll feel better after reading. Yes, I did your coat and the paper. Thank you. Is there anything in the paper? No, let me have that paper. It's another murder on the mainland. I'm smashed to death. Oh, how horrible. Once more, the scalpel killer struck. Claiming early this morning a fourth victim. Police would make no statement other than to say that the use of a scalpel by the killer indicates that a doctor... Must you go on reading that? Isn't it enough that they're dead? Oh, I'm sorry, darling. I heard quite enough about it on the mainland. This is the only topic of discussion. Yes. I won't mention it again. Thank you. It's good to get away from all that talk. To me, this island represents escape. Escape from the mainland. And all that happens there. Escape? What was there to hide from? It couldn't be. It couldn't be! The violent outburst when I read the newspaper story. The strange behavior in the past. A picture I could no longer bear. And we were as strangers. And then one night I was awakened by a pair of hands on my throat. Don't, don't be frightened, Eve. It's nothing. It's nothing. Why did you put your hands on my throat? You were tossing in your sleep. You just wanted to see if you had a fever. No, I'm all right. Why are you trembling? I don't know. Well, what's wrong? Nothing, Eve, nothing. It's just a imagination. No, it isn't. The murder of those four women? What makes you ask that? Is it because of the murder? No, I tell you no! You must stop talking about them. Do you hear me? I've got to make another trip to Boston. You'll see my publisher. Another trip to Boston? Yes. I just have time to catch the morning train. How long will it be gone? Just overnight. What are you going to say? Yeah, but we'll be back. You can bother me. I'm only taking a few feet. A scalpel? Yes, I thought I'd take your father's instruments to town, have the instruments polished. All the scalpels in your bag? Yes. Why do you ask? Well, I just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten any. Oh, Philip, why do you look at me that way? I'm thinking of poor women. Poor women who were slashed to death. Philip! Looked at me for a moment. Then went out a word he left. And suddenly I realized if a murder were committed that night, there would be no escaping the police. I could do nothing but pray and wait. The day dragged into the night and at last dawn came. Soon he returned. And I'd know everything. Everything. Eve? Well, here I am, Philip. Philip, I'm sorry. Oh, here I am, Philip. How was the trip? Philip, what's happened? Last night. Another woman was murdered on the menu. Nothing. Yes, her throat was cut like the others. Don't tell me anymore. I don't want to hear about it. Then you know everything. I expected it for months. Only I could never bring myself to believe it. Eve, there's only one thing left to us. One thing left to us? Yes. We must die together so that innocent people may live in safety. I don't want to die. I know you don't, darling, know the why, but can't you see it's the only way out? The police are bound to find them. The murder. It's just a question of time. Look, let's not wait and live in fear. We'll go to the police and confess. No, I couldn't stand to go through all this. I don't want to die and I won't. Please, Eve, darling, don't make it difficult. It's too dangerous. So that's it. Get rid of me so you can go on living in safety. You know better than that, Eve, I love you. When you die, I should follow. No! I won't let you kill me! I've got you, darling. I'll try not to hurt you. Philip, I'll just stay where you are. Stay where you are! I'm afraid this wouldn't be necessary, but last night's murder leaves me no choice. You must die! You just stop following me, Philip. What are you getting, mother, that girl? Don't move, Philip. If you come any closer, I'll shoot! After what I've been through, a gun doesn't seem very fair. Good morning, Philip. I'll shoot. I'm not going to die for your crimes. My crimes? Yes! You've killed five women, but I shan't be the same. You believe me? You believe I murdered those five women? Well, you've admitted as much. Eve, please, darling, put that gun down and listen to me, please. You know the reason your father brought you to this island as a child? No, I don't. I do? Haven't you ever wondered why he practically kept you a prisoner on the side, educating you himself? You're trying to put me off my guard with this talk. Now, you stay where you are, Philip. Among the papers your father left upon his death, I found some which gave a clue as to the reason he retired to this island. Yes, yes. It all began when you were ten years old and lived in dust. Your father found you one night, walking through the house in a trance. Night after night, your father stayed up watching. Then one night, while in a trance, you strangled your cat to death. Oh, you're lying! Think back to when you were ten years old. Didn't you have a cat? And then one morning it was gone. It had run away, father told me so. He was hiding the truth from you. Then a few days later, he got you another cat. And it disappeared. That cat also ran away. It didn't run away any more than the first one did. You killed it, Eve, in the same manner. But I know something of psychology. You can't break me down with such a story and take this gun. Listen to me. After observing you for some time, your father realized you were a schizophrenic, a female Jekyll and Hyde, a spit personality with uncontrollable You won't break me down, no matter how clever you are. It was then that your father knew that no one was safe as long as you were free. So he gave up everything he valued and brought you to the city. Virtually becoming your jailer. I'm afraid you're astute, it doesn't hold. I was always free to go where I please. Yes, for you were in dangerous when you were awake. But when you went to sleep each night, didn't your father always see to it that you had a sleeping drug? No. Wasn't there some special drink you took before you went to bed? Holy hot milk. Then that was it. As long as your father lived, he was able to control your sleeping hours. When he died, the drug was no longer administered. You began to walk at night in a trance. The first murder occurred exactly a week after your father's death. You were following your subconscious will to kill. You've never explained where you were the night that first woman was killed. A month after the first murder, you left this island again. Your father was found dead on the mainland. Her throat... I never left this island from the day I returned from my father's funeral. You'll never remember having left this island for when you woke up the following day. You were back on your own will. When I came to this island, you told me about the emergency and natural issues. Your conscious mind was not aware of what you had done. You tell a convincing story, but you haven't explained why you came to this island with all your baggage. Just a few hours after a murder had been committed. It's very simple. I explained the hundreds of clippings you had and why you tried to strangle me two nights ago. Strangle me? And tell me why you took the scalp was with you yesterday. Oh, no. I know you're the murderer. And I'm going to turn you over to the police. I've sunk old folks. You'll never go to the police. You're mad. You're completely mad. I can't allow you to go on living. Stop coming towards me. I don't want a shoot, but you're forcing me to. I'm going to kill you. I've got the last dose of a shoot. I didn't want to do it, but you made me with either your life or mine. The story and the murder means you did the others. But you failed. When I recovered consciousness, I found myself in my own room. It was just dusk. There was a deathly stillness about the lodge. I got up and went into the living room. Philip's body was on the floor. Barely discernible in the dark. Fear welled up in me and I found myself screaming. I ran out of the lodge and down to the dark. I came away and I sank to the ground. And then I remembered the emergency flares and the phone hubs. I thought you'd never arrive, Sarah, if I waited and waited in the darkness. It seemed as if I were alone in the world, utterly alone. You're going to get a hold of yourself. It's all over now. I didn't mean to kill him. I didn't mean to kill him. Of course you didn't. It was either him or you. You say he was blond, six feet tall. He had a deep scar on his teeth. He once stayed at the Stratford Hotel. Yes. I remember seeing him now. I recall he slipped off from the hotel when we started questioning the guests. I wondered about him a couple of times. He said I should have followed him up. I just saved the lives of a few innocent women. Oh, come on, man. Crying won't do any good. It's all over now. You say. Here, lie down on this couch. Stretch out. Get a little rest. That's it. A couple hours. It'll be dawn. You'll feel better when you see the sun shining. You... You won't leave me. Will you? No, no. I'll stay here with you. While you're getting a little sleep, I'll write out a report of what happened. I... I couldn't bear to be alone. No, you won't be. Close your eyes. Try to get some sleep. That... That will do. Now it's all over now. You can sleep in peace. Wait! Wait! I want... Agnes, get me... Judge Donnelly. Sheriff Mitchell, Colin. Sheriff, you called me at 2 a.m. and gave me a full report on the death of the scalpel killer. Now why are you calling me? Get it 4 a.m. Judge... You recognize celebrations in order, but why bother me? Will you please let me get back to sleep before I lose... I haven't much time, Judge. What's that? Scalpel killer wasn't... Philip Duval. What are you saying, Sheriff? It was right. The girl... Eve... Notify. Notify... to be a lookout. We'll net... 5 and 4... grey eyes. You've had one too many, Sheriff. First your phone and tell me it was Duval. Then you say it's the girl. Now what proof have you got she's guilty? The... There's a scalp... on the floor, Judge. At... So the curtain falls on the Dark Island, which was chosen by guest expert William Irish, whose latest thriller is The Blue Ribbon. Next week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story of a jealous wife and a husband bent on murder with a most unusual ending selected for your approval by a leisure lipstick. Until then, this is your house, John Nixon Car, hoping you'll be with us next week at this time. The Dark Island was written by Sidney Morris, adapted for radio by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. In the cast were Gertrude Warner, Bernard Grant and Maurice Tarquin. Music is under the direction of Emerson Buckley, composed by Richard Dupage. Murder by Experts is produced and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. This is Phil Tonkin speaking. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.