 Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup present Inner Sanctum Mysteries. Good evening, friends of the Inner Sanctum. This is your house to welcome you through the creaking door. We're going to begin tonight's festivities on a scientific note with something that will save you a good deal of money. Yes, it seems that quite a few people have taken to turning off their refrigerators during this program. Yes, they've discovered they can deep freeze all sorts of things by just listening to Inner Sanctum, letting their blood run cold. Well, Mr. Host, that's quite an idea. Have you any other scientific suggestions? Oh, certainly, Mary. For instance, here's a way to cut down on your laundry bills. Instead of having the laundry start your clothes, just put them on top of your radio Tuesday nights. Inner Sanctum will scare them stiff. Well, now it's my turn, Mr. Host, and I'd like to make a suggestion, too. It's about an easy way to get more enjoyment out of your teapot. Here's the whole trick. Just use Lipton Tea. In every cup of piping hot Lipton's, there's extra tastiness waiting to delight you. And the reason is Lipton's grand brisk flavor. Brisk, you know, is the tea expert's own word for the tangy, full-bodied flavor of Lipton's. And what a pleasure that flavor is. No wonder more folks buy and enjoy Lipton's than any other brand of tea in the world. They've found, as you will, that Lipton's always has brisk flavor. It's never flat, always lively and spirited, with the hearty zest of tea at its best. So next time serve Lipton's tea. Its brisk flavor gives you more contentment in every cup. Now, friends, blend in here to tonight's story. An original radio play by Robert Newman called Blood of Cain. Starring two of your radio favorites, Mercedes McCambridge and Carl Swenson. A tale of blood spilled in hatred inventions. A blood that carries a curse that is as old as man. You don't believe that's possible, do you? And suppose you put out all the lights, pull your chair up close and listen. A small square once fashionable, on the outskirts of New Orleans. The iron balconies where elegant ladies once sat are now rusty and sagging. The paint on the rambling houses is cracked and peeling. And grass grows between the cobblestones. The bios in the jungle have crept close to it. At night the cries of strange birds. The croaking of giant frogs can be heard. What was formerly a living portion of the old world has become a place of decay and death. More pigeons died this evening. I saw them towering up and up into the darkening sky. As if to escape the pain gnawing at their vitals. And then fall into the square and into the garden. I still didn't believe, couldn't let myself leave. And then I saw her standing in the shrubbery. The bag from which she had been feeding them still in her hand. I knew then that I could wait no longer, that I had to find out. Louise. Eugene. The pigeons. There's something wrong with them. They're... Dying. Yes. How? And why? I'm no chemist, but I'd say it was poison. What? But who would do that? Louise, now listen to me, dear. Please listen. I love you. I've loved you since I first came down here. First met you. You know that. And you know that I'll understand. Now tell me, why have you been doing it? I... You're the only one who feeds them, the only one who could do it. Oh, no, I didn't. Louise, where are you? Grandfather! Grandfather! Oh, my dear. What is it? The pigeons. They're dying. It's the second day now. And Eugene said... He said what? Have you looked at any of them, Dr. Philippe? Examine them? Would you go into the house, my dear? I'll be along in just a minute. But Grandfather... Please, please, dear. Yes, Grandfather. Of course. I'm very sorry you did this, Owen. Mentioned it to her. Did you examine any of the pigeons? I did. Poison. Probably from my laboratory. But then... Then you know... I know a great dear, Mr. Owen. I am her grandfather. And I think it would be very wise if you kept away from Louise. Did not see her again. What? Well, that's ridiculous. I love her. I'm sure you do. But perhaps I did not make myself clear. If you continue to see her, it might prove dangerous for you. I didn't need any supper that night. I went back to my room, sat there in the dark, staring at the shuttered, brooding house. About eleven o'clock, the door of the doctor's house opened quietly. And Louise came out, without looking right or left, moving almost like a sleepwalker. She went up the street. I hesitated only a minute, and then I hurried down the stairs and after her. And just as I got downstairs, the door opened again and... Is that you, Owen? Well, yes, doctor. She just left the house. I was watching from the window. Yes, I know. She's done it several times, and this time I was determined to follow her and see where she loads. No, she's hailing a cab. My car's right across the street. Quick! Louise went in there. What kind of a place is that? Yeah, that smell. That's the smell of death. From the noise, I would say it was an abattoir. A slaughterhouse? Good lord. But why? Why would she come down here in the dead of night? I like you, Owen. I think you know that. And it was for your own sake that I warned you to keep away from her. There are things that you do not... well, that you cannot know about her. No? Well, we'll see. I'm going in and get her and find out from her just a moment as she is just inside the gate talking to the watchman. No sense arguing about it, lady. I just can't let you in. But you must. You've got to. You always did before. That's just it. Now, once was all right, even twice. But then, if you want to know the truth, the men have been complaining. Nobody exactly likes killing steers, but they say that the way you stand there, watching them, well, it makes them nervous. You've got to let me in. I'll make it worth your hard work. Watching the killing. That's awful. It's horrible. I'm going in and get her. No, no, no. In the state she's in, well, having you come on her suddenly would have a very bad effect. But... You wait here. I'll go in. No, no, no. Don't hit me. No! Louise! What happened to the watchman? This stone here on the temple. Louise! Why did you do this? I don't know. I had to get in here. He wouldn't let me in here. Take her out to the car. And come on, let's go. He can't go now. Leave him lying there like that. He's hurt. He may be dying. No, no, it's not serious. He's just stunned. We can phone for an ambulance as soon as we get home. But we've got to get her away from here immediately. Sit down, Louise. Yes, Grandfather. I'm sorry I ran away like that, Eugene. But I suddenly felt strange. Ill. That's all right, Louise. You've been feeling that way quite often lately, haven't you? Yes. Yes, I have. Just what makes this feeling so strange? Well, if... It's hard to describe. It's as if I weren't myself anymore. It's the opposite of sleepwalking. It's as if I were awake, but not really conscious. And I hear voices. Voices telling me to do things and whispering a name. A name that sounds like... Jonah. Like... You've been in my study reading my books. No, but I haven't, Grandfather. You always forbade me to... And how did you know that name? Well, whose name is it? And, well, what does it have to do with Louise? It's the name of a family which is almost extinct. And it is a name which means death. Well, what do you mean? I was always very interested in the Jeunat family for reasons of my own. And I've collected all the historical references to them that I could. These references start with the 13th and 14th century. But by the 15th century, they had become the traditional executioners of France. Executioners? And in those days, you know what that meant. It was a Jeunat who put the torch to Jeunat. Jeunat received the handsome bequest from Louis XI for services rendered. Jeunat operated the guillotine during the French Revolution. Perhaps that's why the family migrated here after the fall of the Republic. They came here? Yes. Twenty-odd years ago, there were a whole series of particularly atrocious murders here. The murderer was finally caught and executed. His name was Max Jeunat. Why do you tell me all this? And why should I constantly seem to hear that name? Well, even when you were little, my dear, you used to have those strange fit spells when you would do unpleasant things. Afterward, you could never remember them. Now, do you remember poisoning the pigeons and going to the slaughterhouse? What? Oh, no. Well, I've never discussed the matter with you because I thought it might actually implant the idea in your mind. I'd hoped that if you were left alone, you'd outgrow it. But what? You still haven't told me what all this about the Jeunat has to do with me. It has a great deal to do with you, my dear. You see, Max Jeunat was your father. Now, there's a girl with a real tradition in her family, a murderer for her father and a long line of ancestors who were real killer-dillers. I was beginning to get a little worried about her, fooling around poisoning pigeons and things like that. But I can see now that there was method in her madness. After all, practice makes perfect. Good gracious, Mr. Host. Louise may turn out to be a very dangerous person. Yes, Mary, she's not the kind of a character you'd like to have ringing your doorbell. I should say not. Why, usually, as our Lipton listeners know, a doorbell is one of the nicest, most friendly sounds there is. Because so often it means friends are dropping in for a visit. Of course, your first thought is to make them welcome. So after you've taken their coats and made them comfortable, pour them a cup of flavorful, spirited Lipton tea. You know, it's wonderful how Lipton's adds sparkle to the conversation. For there's extra enjoyment in its grand brisk flavor. Each sip is brimming with such lively, full-bodied tanginess. Yes, serve your friends Lipton's when they call. And when you say goodbye to them at the door, you can be sure they'll come back for another visit and another cup of Lipton tea. That's a friendly suggestion, all right, Mary? And now, are we ready to get down to business again? The kind of business that Louise's family has specialized in for a good many years. Murder. Well, I know that what she's been interested in so far is a small fry, but I think from now on she'll really be cooking with gas. Just a moment later now. Sitting in Dr. Philippe's study, Louise and Eugene Owen stare at the elderly gentleman with shock and horror in their eyes. You mean my father was a murderer? Your father and his father before him. Back as far as the family's history can be traced. Well, I don't believe it. And even if it is true, it's ridiculous to think this need to kill can be passed on from generation to generation for it. Of course, Owen, there is absolutely no scientific basis for it. Still, how else can you explain some of the things that Louise has been doing? Oh, it's true, it's true. These spells that come over me when I don't know what I'm doing. That name which I never heard consciously until... Oh, no, it can't be true. It can't... Oh, Louise... No, Eugene, don't. Don't come near me. Don't touch me. If there's even a chance that it's so... Well, I didn't want to tell you. I was never very close to your father because he was a rather strange son-in-law. But if you want to know more about him, there is someone you should talk to. Joel Ferguson, down on Gaylord Street. He was the very last person to see your father alive. Mr. Ferguson? Yes. Who is it? My name is Louise Philippe. I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes. Just a second. Come in. In here. Thank you. What did you say your name was again? Louise Philippe. At least that's what I always believed it was until yesterday. And then I discovered that my name was Louise Jeunasse. Jeunasse? Not Max Jeunasse. He was my father. Could you word of me, I've known him for years. It wasn't my fault. You know it wasn't my fault. I only did what I had to do. I don't know what you mean. I was told that you were the last person to see him alive. And that perhaps you could tell me something about him. Yes. There are things that I can tell you. That he was evil. But that he knew he was evil. There was a curse on him that made him do the things he did do. Voices that whispered in his ear. Told him to kill. Made him kill. Voices. And in the end, at the last minute, he thanked me. He thanked you for what? For stopping him from doing any more killing in the only way he could be stopped. And when I put the rope around his neck. The rope? I was the state executioner. It was I who hanged him. You killed my father. I only carried out the sentence. It was passed on. Why are you looking at me that way? I didn't know. I only came here to see you because... You're lying. You were his daughter. Then you were like him. And you came down here to kill me. Kill you? That knife. There in your back. I didn't even know it was there. You're lying. Keep away from me. Keep away. I didn't come down here to kill you. Stop staring at me like that. Put that knife away. No. No. Don't come near me. Good evening, Mr Owen. Where's Miss Louise Benson? I must see her right away. I'm sorry, sir, but she's not in. She left about a half hour ago. Where did she go? I'm afraid I don't know, sir. What about Dr Philippe? He's not in either, sir. He left right after Miss Louise. As soon as he heard that she had gone out... It seemed to me, sir, he looked rather worried. He said something about Mr Ferguson. Ferguson? Great Scott. She went down... Thank you. I'm looking for Miss Louise Philippe. Is that you, Dr Philippe? Yes, Eugene. Is she here? Yes, she's here. But you're too late. Just as I was too late. What do you mean? Inside there. See for yourself. Oh, don't tell me that anything's happened. Good. Lord... Louise... She won't answer you. That's the way I found her when I got here. She was there with a knife in her hand... and Ferguson lying across the table dead. Eugene? Louise. Oh, Louise, darling. Why did you do it? Yes, dear. Didn't you do it? I don't know. I didn't even know who he was when I came down here. And I found out that it was he who executed my father. Then I started to hear those voices. Voices telling me to kill... that I had to kill. Then there was a knife in my hand. Oh, I can't remember. Voices. That's what Max said at the trial. It was the only defancy of it, but that he heard voices telling him to kill. He didn't save him. But in your case, the woman... What do you say? There's no sense even trying to escape. That would only make things worse, you know that? Yes, Grandfather. Except that there is only one way that things could be... if worse. That is if I were allowed to live. Louise, don't say that. You must... Oh, it's true, Eugene. For centuries to be a journaum and to bear the mark of Cain, well, I'm the last of the journaums and there must never be another. Well, I had not gone quite that far, my dear, but perhaps you're right. I am right. Goodbye, Grandfather. Eugene. Louise, come back. Wait. No, no, let her go, Eugene. But I think that may be the best way after all. Yes. Well, we'll see. Louise! Wait, please! It's no, Eugene. It's all very clear. Clear as witches, Bro. Yes, it is, yes, it is. Maybe it's because of our love that I understand. Maybe that was what was wrong with the journaums. They never knew love, only hatred. But there is a cure. It lies there. In the river. Louise. There's a curse on me. On all the journaums that ever were. You're right. There is a curse, but not the kind that you think, dear. Listen, I was at the library all afternoon reading, and I think I understand now for the first time. You understand what? The nature of the curse and how it can be ended. Because it can be ended in only one way. Oh, Eugene. Is that you? Eugene. No, Grandfather. It's not Eugene. Louise, well, I thought you... Why did you come back here to Ferguson's place? I don't know, Grandfather. The voices, the call in my blood, it's too strong. I tried. I wanted to go to Ferguson's place. I don't know, Grandfather. I don't know, Grandfather. I tried. I wanted to end it finally and completely either in the river or with the police. But I couldn't. You mean you're not going to give yourself up? No, Grandfather. I'm not going to give myself up. But that's not all I mean. Louise, you still got that knife. Yes, Grandfather. Walking up the street, realizing that I was still holding it, that it was red with blood, I think it was then that I knew for the first time what it meant to be a genre. Look, Louise, you're completely distraught. That's only natural. But now, look, you put that knife down and let me take you home. I'll give you something that'll help you sleep. No, Grandfather, you won't give me anything. Ever again. Yes, Grandfather, that's just what I'm going to do. No, please don't. No, don't try to get away. I'm younger and quicker than you. Just one quick. No, no, listen to me. Listen carefully. You can't kill me. There's nothing driving you to do it. You see, you're not a jolart. What are you saying? It's true. I am a jolart. Max Jolart was my son. But you're not evenly, distantly related to us. You're lying. You're lying. You're just saying that. No, no, no. I swear it's true. I changed my name when I studied medicine to avoid the stigma. Your father was Louis Martin, the judge. You're lying! How is that possible? Because I adopted you after your father's death for a reason. It was your father who condemned Max to death. He didn't know Max was my son and I didn't tell him until later. Your mother died when you were born and I was your father's physician. And when he was desperately ill, I offered to adopt you and take care of you. Then when the papers were signed, I told him who I was. I told him who I was. What I was going to do that I was going to destroy you to avenge my son. And that's what killed him. But all those horrible things I've been doing, poisoning the pigeons, killing further... You haven't been doing them. It was I who did them. Using drugs and suggestion to make you believe that it was you so that you would either destroy yourself or... Oh, thank heaven, Eugene! Eugene, did you hear? Yes, dearest. I heard. And I told you, didn't I? Eugene, so it was a trick. A trick to trap me. Yes, doctor, it was. I was at the library in the city hall all day looking up the records. No, and this won't be as poetic a death as the one I'd planned for her, but... The lights! Louise, put the lights up! Oh, that won't help you. Either of you. You won't get away. I'll find you in the light or in the darkness. And... There you are. Now you'll die! Die! Die, Louise! It's not all! What did... then who did... Let go of me! Let go of me! Wait! Louise, quickly. Eugene, what happened? Who did it? Yes. He stumbled into him in the darkness, thought it was one of us. Then he must have tripped. A knife? He must have fallen on the knife. But somehow it... it seems only right that the last of the Junows who killed so many should be destroyed by the dead. Too bad, Doc. You were a character we certainly could use on this program. But now at least you've got the perfect answer for the rest of your family when you meet them in the... wherever it is that dead murderers congregate. When they ask you who you were with last night, you can always say, that was no lady, that was my knife. Well, I'm glad you could put a new point on that old joke, Mr. Hoast. Oh, I like to sharpen up an old saw now. Well, let me see what I can do along those lines. How about... the best things in life are teens? Yes. I'm afraid you're enthusiastic for Lipton. Well, maybe you're right, Mr. Hoast. But it's so easy to be enthusiastic about Lipton's. Once you taste that marvelous brisk flavor, you can't help being a real Lipton fan. And that lively, zestful taste is something you folks should start to enjoy right now. Next time you visit the grocers, get a package of Lipton tea. Try it. I know you'll enjoy it. May I add a word of advice, friends? If you should happen to bump into an elderly gentleman dressed all in black on a dark street some night, don't get into an argument with him. Especially if he happens to be carrying a bloodstained knife. After all, you can end up just as stiff if you're dead right as if you're dead wrong. Oh, by the way, this month's In a Sanctum Mystery novel is The Pavilion by Hilda Lawrence. And next week's In a Sanctum Story brought to you by the makers of Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup and directed by Hyman Brown. Next week's story is called Skeleton Bay. It's about a lady novelist who writes murder mysteries. Until she decides she'd rather be the director instead of an author. She chooses Skeleton Bay as a vacation spot, but it turns out to be her last resort. Now, join us next Tuesday on Skeleton Bay. Until then, friends, good night. Pleasant dreams? Dreams? Ready in a jiffy and as tasty as can be. That's Lipton's noodle soup. It's a grand chickeny tasting broth full of tender, golden noodles. You'll love it. It's fresh cooked, homemade flavor. And Lipton's noodle soup is ready to serve in a few quick minutes. It's economical too. It costs less and makes lots more than canned soups. Ask your grocer for Lipton's noodle soup mix tomorrow. And don't forget to tune in next Tuesday night for another Inner Sanctum Mystery. All names and characters used on Inner Sanctum are fictitious. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. The Columbia Broadcasting System