 This is Orson Welles, speaking from London. The Black Museum, a repository of death. Yes, here in the grim stone structure on the Thames, which houses Scotland Yard, is a warehouse of homicide. Where everyday objects, a man's necktie, a woman's glove, a boy's school cap, all are touched by murder. Now here's a champagne glass. That's a familiar object, long stem, delicate curve, shining crystal. This fragile object belongs to New Year's Eve, to weddings and anniversaries. Funny about things like this, Sergeant. Funny, sir? I'd say that one was loaded. I meant funny in a philosophical sense, Sergeant. Funny how human beings can take an article meant for happiness and use it for tragedy. Now anyway, that champagne glass can be found today in the Black Museum. From the annals of the Criminal Investigation Department of the London Police, we bring you the dramatic stories of the crimes recorded by the objects in Scotland Yard's Gallery of Death. The Black Museum. Oh, here we are, the Black Museum. Scotland Yard's Museum of Murder. This place echoes with violent death. Voices are hollow here, whether the hollowness is caused by the high-volted ceilings or by the reaction of the human mind to the atmosphere of this room. The effect is the same. Everybody who comes here learns a sense of fear. It's natural because here lies death. Death, cruel, unnecessary, vengeful, greedy. Still the kind of death brought by one man or one woman on another. This is a record to be studied, not merely by criminologists, but by every student of man's inhumanity to man. Here's an iron skillet. It's heavy in your hand, the kind of kitchen utensil your grandmother used. Well-balanced, quite suitable for frying eggs or veiled chops or for bashing a skull perhaps. There's little doubters to be used which brought this particular skillet. Here. Here. And here's the champagne glass. It's well-designed, graceful. You could place it with a companion on a silver tray, as Colonel Harry Reid did. You could pop a cork and then fill the glasses, as Colonel Harry Reid did. I'd say, as the dapper Colonel did. To you, my dear Elizabeth, to your return and your complete recovery. I wish I could bring to that whole heart at the very, very I do. Well, why not, my dear? You've been released. That said exactly. I've been released. Not merely sent home from hospital, so to speak. After all, the hospital I was in had bars on the windows. Oh, I insist, my dear, that you touch glasses with me and drink it once. That's no way to talk. But Harry... No buts, Elizabeth. Many people have had nerve breakdowns and the vast majority of them have recovered. Very well, Harry, dear. But not to me, to you. The most patient of husbands in the world. So they drank the champagne and all was well. It was very pleasant, very relaxing, reassuring. The world is always too much with us, and the Colonel finally had to say. Now, you rest until dinner, Elizabeth. Have a beef up on my... I won't be long. And the Colonel kissed his wife, and the Colonel went off to his appointment. It's six months now, Reed. One way or the other, the matter ought to be settled. I assure you, Davis, there's nothing to worry about. These things take time. There's been plenty of time. Look, Reed, if you don't want to complete the deal, return the 500 pounds. But it's not up to me. My client... Your client indicated willingness to dispose of the property. My client paid the deposit in good faith. We considered a binder on the contract. We waited six months. Your 500 pounds is quite safe, Davis. You can reassure your client. And on my side, we'll go through with the deal as soon as everything is clear. Well, I certainly hope so. My people want to take possession. And they shall. They shall indeed. And soon. Meanwhile, there's no reason for misunderstanding between us, is there? After all, we live in the same small town. We see each other constantly. You know, John, I've often wondered why we don't see more of each other. Oh, socially, that is. Rather a changeable fellow, the Colonel, isn't he? There were other changes ahead. More serious ones. They first came to somewhat public notice. The night our Colonel called Dr. Ashley to his home. Ah, Dr. Ashley, good of you to come so quickly. You made it sound rather urgent, Colonel. Is it really serious? Yes, sir. I'm afraid, Doctor. Really afraid. It's my wife. Has she broken down again? No. She complains of terrible pain in her abdomen. I'd better see her at once. Yeah, this way, please. If you can, Doctor, yes? She seems to me to be as much frightened as she is in pain. Oh? What exactly do you mean by that? Frightened that, well, that her pain is in her imagination. I see. Oh, very well. I'll bear that in mind, Colonel. Ah, in here. If you wait outside, Colonel, please. Oh, must I, Doctor? I prefer it. Very well. Now then, Mrs. Breed. Can you hear me, Mrs. Breed? The good Colonel waited outside the door. Up and down, back and forth, he paced. Almost as if he were once again on guard duty. Grim-faced, tense. He waited. At long last. You'd better come in, Colonel. Quick, Doctor. Is she? I'm afraid so. I've done everything I can. A few moments later, Elizabeth Breed was at rest. At last. Tears streamed down the Colonel's cheeks. But he was silent. There seemed nothing to say. The Doctor led him away and told him gently. It was acute gastritis. And her heart. You'll want the minister, I assume, and the mortician. I'll send the certificate over. Natural causes. A little high in tribute to the Colonel's position in the town, as well as to the memory of his wife. And then the Colonel resumed his life. Somewhat more lonely, but still active. Bearing himself in military fashion, as he went about his small real estate business in time, drifted by. One month, two. And then, one day on the main street. Good morning, Colonel. Ah, Davis. Good to see you. I hesitated discussing this. Your recent bereavement and so on, do you think we need to close our deal, Reed? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Well, that is, I'm rather by myself these days. Would you care to join me for tea or get something stronger one afternoon? You say when, Reed. I'll be glad to. Excellent. Then, shall we say tomorrow? Fibish? Why not? Your place or mine? Mine, of course. Delighted to have you. Have a scorn, oh man. Really excellent. My Husky bear has quite the touch. Thank you. I will. You were a pair of elderly ladies. Tea and scorn. Two gentlemen somewhat past middle age enjoying tea and scorns and making ready to discuss business. In fact, they did discuss business. A 500-pound deposit in the pending deal. And John Davis went home quite satisfied. John Davis went home and a little later called Dr. Ashley. I don't understand you, Doctor. My stomach's like cast iron. Always has been. Now, suddenly, this. Ah, none of us are quite as young as we used to be. Even cast iron can wear thin with use. Eating anything out of the ordinary, John? Today? Yesterday? Oh, no, nothing. Had some scones for tea. The butter may have been a bit rancid, but tasty, perfectly fresh. Oh, but Colonel Reed's. Eh? Reed's? Yes. That's why. We had a little business to discuss. He asked me over. Seemed quite lonely since his wife passed on, so I went mostly to keep him company. Oh, nice of you. Well, just take the prescription I'm leaving you. Rest a day or two. You'll be all right. What's wrong, Doctor? Oh, nothing. Just a quirk of memory. Oh, how so? Your symptoms and Mrs. Reed's rather the same. Nothing serious about it. Just odd. That we should have two similar cases in such close juxtaposition. A town like this, a doctor gets to know most of the illness. As the doctor said, nothing serious. Just an interesting coincidence. And in the day, I saw John Davis was up and about. Aside from a slight tenderness and his abdomen, he felt no after-effects. All was well. All was quiet. Everyone was his courteous self, including Colonel Reed. Well, no. Candy. And from the Colonel. How decent of him. Here it is, Doctor. The same wrappings it came in. Nice looking box. Don't you care for Candy John? You haven't eaten much. No, I don't. I did offer a piece to the Charwoman at the office. You see, one's missing. The Charwoman, eh? Is that the way you treat a gift? With the hope you are sufficiently recovered to enjoy this, Harry Reed. Oh, the decent of him. That's what I thought, until the Charwoman was taken with pains and reaching an hour after she ate the candy. Are you suggesting anything, John? That would be slanderous at this stage, wouldn't it? There's nothing to it, John. He did rather well following his wife's death and her will, you know. He never had any money of his own to speak of. The former military men rarely do. Yes, it might be interesting. I've done practically no laboratory work of my own for some time. But I have a little equipment. Shall I try my hand at a bit of chemical analysis, John? I'm curious about the contents of that box of candy. You seem to be as well as I. The Doctor was methodical, to say the least. He took his time setting up his equipment, preparing reagents, making ready for his private little tests. Meanwhile, John Davis ran into his friend the Colonel on the street. John, good to see you. How are you, Harry? You're looking fit. Well, I try to keep that way. Carter joined me for another attack of indigestion, and... Well, today, the champagne glass we've been talking about can be seen, as you might expect, among the other exhibits in the Black Museum. The Colonel and John Davis parted quite amicably on the street. Davis watched the smart military walk the ramrod straight back as the Colonel paraded into his office, under his head. Somehow it didn't seem quite plausible that this man might... just might be something quite different than what he seemed. The next afternoon, the telephone rang in John Davis' office. This is Harry, yeah? Oh, yes, yes, of course. How are you? Very well. And you? Quite well. No more summer gigs. And how about this evening? Sorry, I can't this evening, but perhaps in a day or so. Too bad. I'll be speaking to you. Goodbye. Davis had a previous appointment with Dr. Ashley. He's makeshift laboratory. This little operation here is the Marsh Test. Arsenic. Interesting. Yes, it is. Particularly since I found that every piece of candy in your gift box had arsenic in it. Good Lord! You see, it's a cumulative poison. Personally, I have a tolerance for quite a lot of John Davis. It usually fails to pass through the human system. It accumulates, and bit by bit the fatal dose is built up until one day the victim dies. Dr. Ashley explained all this to John Davis. Finally, John grasped the significance of the facts. Each piece of candy would never bother the ordinary stomach or the cast iron type such as you both did you have. Most people could eat a piece of two-night meat. You had eaten most of the candy yourself. Well, you follow me, I gather? Follow you? Doctor, I must step ahead of you. But exactly what that step is, I'm not sure. I think we need expert help. The local constable? I said expert help. The CID. Scotland Yard. It is a clear, cogent letter assigning the situations Dr. Ashley and John Davis knew it. It was addressed to the home secretary, the gentleman and the British government responsible for the police force in general. In due course, the letter reached the desk of Inspector Charles in Scotland Yard. Following the set routine, Inspector Charles showed the communication to his immediate assistant, Detective Sergeant Hatch. Well, nothing else for it. You and I will have to take a small trip to the country. Frankly, I want mine. I can use a touch of country air after all. They came into the quiet town unobtrusively. Two men on a walking tour. Vacationists. They put up at the end. Toward sundown, they strolled about the town quite casually. They turned in at the gate with this little sign announcing that Dr. Ashley had his dispensary there. Once, however, within the doctor's office. Now then, Doctor, perhaps you'd let Sergeant Hatch and I have it from the beginning. Well, my entrance into the situation came shortly after Mrs. Reed returned from the sanitarium. She'd been ill? Mentally ill. Nervous breakdown? Rather more than that. She'd been certified insane. She was discharged as being quite stable once again. And you were called in? In my professional capacity. I found her past help. A cute gastritis. Although it seemed at the time. But it doesn't seem so now? You understand, Inspector? I have no facts. Now, on that side, I nearly analyzed the box of candy received by John Davis. Shortly after he'd been taken ill. Doctor, would this Colonel Reed benefit from Mr. Davis' death? There'd been something about a real estate and a despotic pay. Quite a large sum, I believe. Mr. Davis can give you the details. One final question, sir. Who had Mrs. Reed committed to the institution in the first instance? Why, I believe the husband did. But the records will be available to you, of course. Of course. Well, thank you, Doctor, if we need you. By the time they left the doctor's office, Inspector Charles and Sergeant Hatch felt they had heard an interesting and circumstantial story. Their next stop, naturally, was John Davis' home. You've no idea, gentlemen, what a relief it is to have police officers of your caliber on the job. Thank you. About the candy and the card in the box. Do you have any definite reason to believe the Colonel wants you, well, out of the way? There's the matter of 500 pounds. He either will not or cannot explain. And, um, Dr. Ashley mentioned Mrs. Reed's will. Yes, curious about that. There was one will made out entirely in favor of her children by her first marriage. The will which was accepted and executed was in the Colonel's handwriting but signed by Mrs. Reed and produced subsequent to her death. You find that interesting, I take it, Sergeant? I expect you do as well, sir. Quite. Mr. Davis, do you think it might be possible to exhume Mrs. Reed's body without the matter of becoming common knowledge in the whole town? The men from Scotland Yard accomplished the almost impossible. Armed with the proper papers, plus tools and dark lanterns, they supervised the removal of the body at night with no one the wiser except the necessary officials. This feat completed. They waited quite, quite patiently. The government analyst was called in. The report was brief. Inspector Charles read it to Dr. Ashley. The examination reveals the presence of four grains of arsenic, more than a fatal dose, and the largest amount of the poison I have ever found in human remains. Well, that's it, Doctor. And I didn't recognize the symptoms. Acute gastritis, I call it. Why should you have recognized them, sir? I dare say a murder of any kind is hardly a common occurrence in your practice. Well, Sergeant, the trial warrant is all in order. It begins to appear that a search of Colonel Reed's premises may be next on the agenda. Now the pretense of the walking tour is completely discarded. It was Saturday, and the sleepy little village was just about bestowing itself. The inspector and the sergeant walked for short. It was from the end to Colonel Reed's place of business, almost directly opposite Davis's office. The sergeant tried the door. Not locked, sir? A locked door in these parts would arise more suspicion than not. One file cabinet, one desk, telephone, chair for visitors. Can't do much of a business. I dare say not. Let's get to it. The search was quite thorough. The desk was emptied of its contents. These were replaced in an orderly fashion. Nothing extraordinary here, sir. Well, what to make of this, sir? Champagne glass. The rear of the file cabinet. Todd. Shall I hold it aside, sir? Yes, you may as well. During the trace of sediment, apparently it was never washed. After it was used the last time. Anything else in there, sergeant? Oh, what's going on in here? Colonel Reed? Yes, more to the point for you to identify yourselves and your business here, if any. Inspector Charles C.I.D. My identity card. This is Sergeant Hatch. I see. I assume you have a warrant for this search? We do. May I ask why you were keeping the champagne glass in the file cabinet? I meant her to my poor wife. We drank from it. That is, she did about a week before she passed away. A nice gesture, if I may say so. And still with the trace of the sediment at the bottom. Careful, sir. It'd be a pity to have the glass break after all this time. Oh, sorry. Awkward of me to brush against it like this. Yes. Wasn't it? All right, sergeant. Let's draw the canal just closed and see what he put in it. But you said you'd finish your pardon, Colonel. I've had quite enough of this. These paper packets weren't in here a few minutes ago, Inspector. How many? Look here, I wouldn't have 20 of them, sir. I'll take one. Thank you. White powder. Well, this wouldn't be arsenic, would it, Colonel? Not only would be, it is. Really? Well, as you can see, I'm wearing my gardening coat. Ordinarily, I do not come into the office on Saturday. That's something came up. I've been planning an experiment in my garden. Hence the arsenic. A garden, an experiment with 20 packets of arsenic? Yes. My lawn is plagued with dandelions, roughly two dozen of them. I plan to drill a small hole at the root of each weed, pour in the arsenic in each of those packets and kill each dandelion individually rather than take the chance of ruining the whole lawn. Sorry, Colonel. It's a good story, but rather far-fetched. Particularly since you tried to rid yourself of the packets before we searched your person. And particularly since the charge-pending is a little murder of your wife by a cynical poisoning. But this is ridiculous. Someone is present. Keep that champagne glass safe before Colonel Reid succeeds in smashing it. Yes, sir. Colonel Reid, you are under arrest. The charge is murder. I must warn you that anything you may mistake... I will not stand. I'll be acquitted. You'll see and then I'll have to leave here. A trial that will make quite enough, Colonel. You've made several mistakes, not the least of which was your attempt on John Davis with the glass. A sentimental gesture, but rather silly. My bet is the sediment in it will turn out to be arsenic. You must have been very sure of yourself, Colonel, to leave this glass unwashed. Very sure of yourself, indeed. Bring him along, Sergeant. I think he'll come quietly now. And today that champagne glass can be seen in the Black Museum. Orson Welles will be back with you in just a moment. There was no doubt about one facet of Colonel Reid's character. He was a man of great pride. His behavior at the trial was exemplary. His bearing military. He repeated his story of the separate packets of arsenic for separate dandelions, and he sound as if he'd made a good case of it. At least for himself. But not as it turned out for the jury. Colonel Reid accepted his sentence as if it were an order from a superior officer. And one morning, at the traditional time of eight o'clock, Colonel Reid marched to the scaffold as if he were on parade. And as for the champagne glass, now it remains in its customary place as I told you in Scotland Yarn. And now until we meet next time, in the same place, and I tell you another story about the Black Museum, I remain as always obediently yours.