 I don't know quite how to begin this letter except to say that it may sound fantastic to you, perhaps even a joke, but please believe me, I am serious, and the situation is serious. A man is dying, yet he has nothing wrong with him. He believes he's going to die five days from now, and so Bart Le Fay is dying. A strong, healthy man is dying because of witchcraft. I know this sounds incongruous, anachronistic. But if you will come to Baloo, Louisiana, you will see for yourself and perhaps be able to help. Sincerely, Doris Gordon. Sure, I laughed when I sat down to read Miss Gordon's letter, but the laugh stopped in Baloo, Louisiana. And now back to Box 13 and Dan Holiday's newest adventure, Death is a Doll. But Mr. Holiday, you don't believe this, do you? Suzy, as my old grandfather used to say, there's no such thing as a sure bet or a sure loser. I don't get it. Well, to quote the time-worn passage from Shakespeare, there are stranger things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamed of in your philosophy. Who's Horatio? That's beside the point. But Mr. Holiday, she says witchcraft. Now that's just, it's relatively imposterous. Atta girl, Suzy, you never let me down. You had to hunt for it, but you found the wrong pronunciation. That's beside the point. Yeah, it could be. But something tells me that Baloo, Louisiana offers interesting possibilities. Before I took off for Louisiana, I went to the Star Times and did a little research. You know, it's surprising what a person can find out about things he thought went out with the oil lamps, horse cars, and witch trials. But look at the bustle. Everybody thought it was dead. But now look. Well, just look. Anyway, what I learned made me change my mind a little about that letter from Doris Gordon, who met me at the station at Baloo. Five minutes after I got off of the train, we were driving along a dusty back road in a little car. I didn't think you'd come, Mr. Holiday. Well, I never refused a chance to get mixed up in something that sounds different. Or insane? Well, what's the difference? Automobiles and radios were different when they came along. Before that, they were insane. But this is different. We're in the 20th century. Salem and the witch hunts our history. History? Well, to bat a cliche in a center field, history repeats itself. I know. Oh, by the way, no one must know why you're here, Mr. Holiday. Yes, why not? Because these people are fine and honest. But they're liable to resent a stranger. Oh. So what happens? I want you to pretend to be my cousin. Glad to. But won't they know you haven't got a cousin? No. I teach school here. I've been here only six months. No one knows much about my personal life. They've come to trust me like me, I think. And they'll accept you because of it. Fair enough. Now, I board with the Lefes. Lefes? Oh, your letter mentioned a Bart Lefes. Yes, he's the youngest son. And he's dying, so you said... Yes. In one month, he's become almost a dead man. Why? What did the doctor say? He said there's nothing wrong with Bart. But there has to be. That's what I told myself. I told it to Bart. But Mr. Holiday, he knows he's going to die because someone has told him. Who? Who told him? I don't know who started it, but now everyone in Baloo knows it. It's been like a snowball. Building, building, building. You're in love with Bart? Yes, I am. All right, but well, I don't see what I can do to help. You've got to. It was only by chance that I saw your advertisement in the Star Times. A newspaper published in a city hundreds of miles from here. Remember? Adventure wanted. We'll go any place, do anything. Write box 13. I had to write to you. Just a minute, Miss Gordon. Let me ask you one question. What? Have you gone to the authorities? The sheriff for example? Of course I have. And? Mr. Holiday, the law can't help when you're fighting something you can't see. So I was taken into the Lafay home as Doris Gordon's cousin. There was something about the house, an aura of fear that hung over it like a deadly paw. Bart's mother, his father and his two older brothers seemed to have accepted the fact that Bart would die. Die when he said, in two days. That night Doris arranged for me to be alone with Bart in his room. The house was located near the edge of one of the big bayous and somewhere outside in the night. The strange, eerie animal sounds seeped through into the room where I sat with the sick man. How do you feel, Bart? Not fit, Mr. Holiday. Now look here, Bart. The doctor says there's nothing wrong with you. Ain't nothing he knows. Ain't nothing he can know. Now look, a man just doesn't die without something being the matter. I got just two days now. Bart, that's nonsense. Now snap out of it. You just don't believe it, do you, mister? No. No, I don't. And why aren't you asked down in the village? Ask anybody. About what? About what's happening to me. People see it happen before and there ain't nothing nobody can do. Ain't nobody can help. Doris. Doris. Doris, get some water. We can't swallow when he's like this. Here, Bart. Come on. Sit up. Sit up. Let yourself breathe. It's getting worse. It's like somebody tightened a rope around my neck. I'm so little, it gets so tight I can't breathe no more. Bart, you mustn't say that. Ain't nobody can help. Nobody. Doris. What, Dan? Where's the doctor? In the village. I'm going there. You stay here with Bart. All right. Take the car. There's only one doctor? Yes, Dr. Brennan. All right. Now don't leave Bart. I'll be back soon. I'm sorry, Holiday, but there's nothing I can tell you. There's nothing wrong with Bart Lefebvre. You're sure of it? Look, anything that drags a man down from 200 odd pounds to 150, I'd know about. Maybe I'm just a very... I didn't mean it that way, Dr. Brennan. But as you say, a man can't lose over 50 pounds and look as Bart does without a cause. I know that as well as you do. Yes, well, better than I do. So let's be honest with each other. Honest? What do you mean? Because you're a doctor and because you're rational, logical, and reasonable. You won't let yourself accept the only explanation of Bart's illness. I can't listen to any such nonsense, Holiday. Is Bart's condition nonsense? You're supposed to be an intelligent man. Yes, and so are you. Because I am. I won't think about it. You've never seen it happen before. No. But you've heard about it. Anybody who lives among people, who believe in it, has heard about it. All right. Now, Doctor, let's say what we're thinking. I'm not thinking anything. Bart Le Fay is dying because... because he's the victim of witchcraft. You don't believe that. If you mean witches, charms, potions, and that stuff, no. I'm as hard-headed as you are. But Bart believes it. Why, it's so ridiculous. To you and me, yes. Maybe a hypochondric is, too. But to him, his imagined illnesses are real. You don't laugh at him and send him away, do you? Of course not. And I'll tell you why not. You know his illnesses and his mind, so you play along, comfort him. Because if you didn't, you know he'd become worse, simply because he'd think he was. We're all right. Supposing you're right about Bart. What can we do about it? You've told him there's nothing really wrong. A hundred times. There's nothing else I can do. But I might be able to help. How? Find out who started this thing and why it continues. If we destroy the cause, Bart will get well. Do you expect me to help? Won't you? Holiday, I'm a doctor, a physician, a member of the association. If I're poked around in something like that, what effect do you think it'll have on my reputation? Yes, I see your point. And it's up to me alone. I'll help you up to a point. Beyond that, well, it's all yours. Fair enough. Now I've got to talk with the people here. You won't get very far. Why not? Because not one of them will say anything or lift a finger. Because they're scared too? That's it. Doctor, Bart Lafay has only tomorrow and the next day to live. Unless I can lick this. And I'm going to try. I left Dr. Brennan and went back to the Lafay place. I had to talk to Doris alone and later in the darkness outside. Damn, it's too fantastic, too weird. Now listen to me, Doris. I did a lot of reading before I came down here. Know what I found out? Know what? In the last ten years, there have been over a hundred cases of so-called witchcraft. As recently as 1939, a man on trial for murder claims self-defense on the grounds that the person he killed had charmed him, hexed him. Unbelievable. Yeah, that's what I thought. But look in the newspaper files. But this is the 20th century. It could be the 120th Doris. And still, people will believe what they want to believe. Do you believe it? No. No, there's no power on earth that can kill like that. The only power lies in the victim's mind and his will to believe. And Bart? He believes it so strongly that he's dying. He can't die. He just mustn't. Look, who started this? There has to be someone that planted that suggestion in his mind. No one. There isn't a person in the village in this whole parish who doesn't like Bart. But there has to be Doris. It must be some horrible, malicious joke. Joke would have been called off before this. Then I don't know. If I'd gone to the village tomorrow, what would I learn from the people? Probably nothing. No one will come near here. I have to drive in for supplies. Oh, Bart! That was Bart! Come on. I ran into the house of the phaser standing in the door of Bart's room staring at the closed door. Terror in their faces. I ran past them. Bart! Bart! Doris, get the lamp. Hurry. Here. Bart! Bart! He's all right. He just fainted. But why? Why? Here's your answer. What? What's that? Doris at the door. Keep the rest of the family out of here. Wait out there, please. Blow out that lamp. But... What are you looking at? Is there somebody in the clearing outside? No. No, not a soul. I didn't expect to see anyone. You didn't expect? Look. This charm that made Bart scream was tossed in through this window doors. And nothing supernatural or magical about it. It was a human being who tossed it in. But why? To let Bart know he has only two more days to live. And now back to Death Is A Doll, another box 13 adventure with Alan Land as Dan Holliday. It wasn't pretty, that charm. The way it was made with feathers and leather and bits of bone gave me a cold chill. I stuck it in my pocket and then took it out again. It was silly, but I didn't want the filthy little thing near me. Bart came to, we made him comfortable, and I spent the rest of the night sitting by his bed. Then the next morning, Saturday, Doris drove me into the village. Well, she did some errands. I went into the general store. Morning, mister. Oh, good morning. Can I do something for you? Well, I... A stranger here, ain't ya? Yes, I just came in yesterday afternoon. I'm Miss Gordon's cousin. Oh, sure. I'm girl, Miss Gordon. Yes, she is. Boys, this here's Miss Gordon's kin. Cousin. Name's Ed Masters. Hello, how are you? John Latouche. How do you do? Tuck Wilson. Hi. And the rest of them. Hiya. Stan in Velouspell, mister... Mr... Name's Dan. Just call me Puck. Everybody else does. Tuck here's about ten years ahead of me. Okay, Puck. As I was asking... Staying long? Well, I don't know. Vacation? Sort of. Oh, staying here at the hotel? No, no, no. Oh, right in the old Gerard cabinet. Folks do for vacations. No, I'm staying with the Lafayes. Well, I must have said something wrong. That's one mighty good way to clear the store. Just mention Lafayes. Aren't the Lafays like? They was. Was? You come in here to buy something, mister? No, I... Well, then I've got to get busy. I've got to get some stock put away. Oh, now just a minute, Puck. Huh? Want something? I want to know something, maybe you can tell me. Depends. I don't know much. I'll make it worth your while. You can put away your money, mister. If and I wanted to make talk, I wouldn't take no pay for it. Oh, I see. I'm sorry. You ain't staying long with the Lafays, are you? I don't know. You better know. Listen, Bart Lafayes dying. Is he? You know he is. He's been ailing, not been fittin'. Pop, who's doing it to him? I ain't got no idea what you're talking about. I think you have. You can't stand by and see a man die like that. Sooner or later, we all got it. Pop, if you can tell me anything. I ain't no use of asking me. If and you want advice, mister, don't stay no more at the Lafays. I gotta get back to work. Oh, now wait a minute, Pop. I was used to try that anymore. I went outside and stood there for a moment. Then I glanced back at the store and staring out at me from a window was the face of a girl, about 18. Ever a face showed fear, there it was. Before I could move, she pulled back and away. Outside in the street, little groups of people stared at me, and when I looked back at them, they walked out of sight. Far down the street, I saw Doris and she was talking with a big husky fellow and I walked toward them. Dan, what did you find out? Nothing. Oh, I knew it. Oh, Dan, this is Didge Lawson, Bart's best friend. Didge, this is Dan Holiday, my cousin. How are you, Didge? I'm just fitting. Them yellow livers were scared, huh? Look like it. Look, yeah, mister, I ain't scared. If you want any help, I'll give it to you. Thanks, Didge, but can you help? Maybe. I've got an idea. An idea, Didge, about what? Look, yeah, some place out in the bayou. I guess what's killing Bart. In the bayou? Yeah. I know that they're bayou like a back of my own hand. Some funny things can go on out there, mister. Like what? I see the doll once hanging from a tree, dressed up like a man it was, dressed up like Bill Dakin. Ain't long after that, Bill took sick, bitten and died. You saw that, Didge? Why didn't you do something? Me? I ain't gonna touch nothing like that. They ever touches it, they get sick and die. You think that's what's happening to Bart? Is that it, Didge? Maybe. I see. Well, thanks for offering to help. That ain't nothing. We better be getting back now, Dan. Huh? Oh, yes, sure. Glad you met you, Dan. See you here. Yeah, I'll see you later. Bye, Didge. Bye. Doris. Yes? How good a friend is Didge to Bart? Why, they grew up together. Would he tell us if he knew who was doing this to Bart? Oh, I'm sure he would. Then we have someone to help us. But I think he's really afraid, too. He'd never admit it. Do you think he'll be able to help? That depends. But what he said about that doll and Bill Dakin, did you believe it? Yes, I did, because it's happened before. Dan, you can't mean it. You can't mean it, because it's impossible. So is the fact that Bart's dying with nothing wrong with him. But he is. Then how can we stop it, Dan? Well, I don't know yet. We've got to find out today. Tomorrow may be too late. Let's get back to Bart. When we got back to Bart, I tried to get him to tell me who had told him he was doomed to die. They wouldn't say. Bart had one more day to live, unless we could find the evil thing that was preying on his mind. It was later that night, close to midnight, I couldn't sleep. I was lying on the cot when I heard a noise at my window. Who's that? Who is it? What the? Shh. Don't talk loud, mister. Who are you? My name's Melissa. Please, mister, I've got to tell you something. If you want to help Bart... Wait, I'll come right out. No, no, you just gotta listen. I heard you talking in the store to my pop. You want to know about Bart? What do you know? Come on, come here. Didge put the death on Bart. Didge? Even if he finds out I told she, he'd kill me. He won't do anything of the kind, Melissa. Now, what do you know about this? Everything was all right till she come here. She? Miss Court? Her. Didge got smitten with her hip. Oh, now, now, Melissa, we'll fix all that up. But you've got to tell me what you know quickly. When Bart took sick, I knowed it was something Didge had done. I followed him out to the bayou. And? Five times I followed him to Grandma Juno's place out there. Grandma Juno? Who is she? A witch. Melissa, there's no such thing as a witch. She is, she is. All right, let it go. What else do you know? Didge gone out there again tonight. Tonight? How do you know? I saw him taking his bow down in the shack. Mister, he's gone out there tonight to see Grandma Juno. This will be the last time they will twist the thread around Bart's neck, and tomorrow he'll be dead. Melissa, can you take me out there? Me? No, he's gone no more. I ain't. I'll take sick and die. Wait right there. You and I are going into town. What for? Never mind, just wait there. I awakened Doris, told her it was happening, and took her car, and Melissa and I drove into the village. Later, she, Dr. Brennan, and I went out to the edges to buy you. If a word of what I'm doing gets around, I'll be done for. She's got the help, Doctor. All right, all right. Melissa. What? Are you sure that you can lead us to Grandma Juno's in the dark? I, I think maybe so. Come on, we're wasting time. Get in the boat, Doctor. Oh, careful. And for this, I got an MD degree. Chasing around in the flack of midnight after a witch. Ready? I am. Go straight ahead until we come to the tomb. Then go left. Oh, good. Ready, Doctor? I've got to be. All right. Now, no lights. Be as quiet as you can. Let's go. Maybe I'll live to be a hundred. Maybe I won't. But I'll never forget that midnight boat ride. All around us, the huge cypress trees jettered up in the moonless sky. The drooping Spanish marsh brushed our faces, and it was too dark to see a foot in front. But, Melissa, she knew what she was doing and where she was going. Once or twice, the dark shape in the water bumped against our rowboat. It slithered away. Then... It's right up ahead. I can't see a thing. Melissa, you're sure? I know it. You can believe again. These people know their way around these biomes with their eyes closed. Shhh. Look. That's a lantern up ahead. The best didger's boat. Stop rowing, doctor. Easy. I'm going to take sick and die. I'm going to take sick and die. No, you're not, Melissa. Look. Up ahead, from a little island in the light of an old lantern, were Dig and an old woman. Dig was sitting on a log watching while the old woman crooned over a doll. Crooned over it and wrapped her string tightly around its protest neck. Silently, slowly, we got closer. He told we could hear her words. The devil's hand is clogged. Melissa. That does it. Who's that? Get away, get away. Come on, doctor. Shoot, he's got his gun. They can't see us. Melissa, stay in the boat. Stop where you are. Don't you come and don't close it. Heaven you do, I'll... Get him, dear. Stop him. holiday. He's got his gun. Don't let him get it. He got that gun, doctor. You get it for this, bestie. You get it. Now give me that doll. No. Give it to me, I said. Look, I can't see you like it. No, she won't. That's better. Let's get back to Bart, doctor. What about Didge? He seems to like it out here. We'll let him enjoy it a while longer. Keep his gun. Here, let me see that doll. I... Why? It... It looks like Bart Lafayne. Sure. It was Bart Lafayne. Huh? Never mind now. Let's get back. This doll, it... It can't harm you now. Things like this can never harm anyone. It's in your mind. Look, I'll unwrap the string from his throat. You'll be all right. That? That thing was doing it to me? No, your mind was doing it, Bart. That's all. You'll get better now. But what about you? What about me? Grandma June will get you. No, she won't. Bart, believe me, there's nothing in the world like this can hurt you. Go back home and the worst that can happen will be... Well, it will be my own fault. Sure, sure. Where's Doris? I'll send her in when I leave. I... I can't thank you rightly, Dan. Yes, you can. Just remember what I told you, Bart. No harm can ever come to you unless you bring it on yourself. Gee, what a nasty-looking little doll. It's not pretty. And he actually believed this was killing him? Well, he knows better now. Do you feel all right? Of course, why? Well, I just hate to think of that terrible old woman sticking pins in you. Oh, not a chance, not a chance. Well, let me sit down and look at the mail. Mr. Holiday, what's the matter? Oh, I... I felt as though something stuck me. Mr. Holiday, I... Susie? Susie? Oh! My knitting needles. Yeah. Good night, Susie. Next week, same time, through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd stars as Dan Holiday in Box 13. Box 13 is directed by Richard Sandville, and this adventure was written by Clark Robley. Original music is composed and conducted by Rudy Schrager. Part of Susie is played by Sylvia Ficker. Production is supervised by Vern Carstensen. Box 13 is a Mayfair production from Hollywood. Watch for Alan Ladd in his latest Paramount Picture.