 Good evening, friends of the creaking door. This is your host, bidding you enter the inner sanctum. Come in, come in. And now for tonight's tortured tantrum. Ever have an ancestor who's dead but won't lie down? Can't happen, huh? Okay, Bob, hang on and we'll demonstrate. We're in an ancient cemetery hidden in a lost valley somewhere outside an old New England town. The stone face of a mortillium reads 1790. Behind its iron door the ancient dead sleep-in-sealed vault. Beside the dead, trapped in the mortillium is a man. He's haggard, glassy-eyed, like a man suspended between life and death. The man rallies his dying energies to tear at the door, to break his hand in the final desperate attempt at escape. I gotta get out of here! I gotta get out of here! Not good! Not good! Get out of here. Broke. Without a dime in the world. Exactly the way I began. Exactly the way I began. Six weeks ago, I came to this jerk-water town of Hillcrest to claim a worthless white elephant. A state called Highgate. It's been in my family since the Battle of Punker Hill. I was the missing heir. Finding me cost the trust these more money than the estate was worth. That's the picture, Mr. Lyon. The biggest state, but the land's been neglected too long and the buildings are about ready to fall down. The inheritance raised your hopes, honey. I'm sorry. What about cash? Other properties? Stocks, maybe? No, the tax collector sees what little there was for arrears. There isn't a cash penny in sight for you, young fella, unless your chance to run into your grandfather is brutal. My great-grandfather? Yeah, your great-grandfather, Daniel Zanger. Folks around here say, oh, Daniel assaulted a pile away and walks the halls of Highgate watching it and waiting for the right to send it to come along. Wait a minute. You're talking over my head. I'm just repeating local buggy-man talk. According to old records here in Hillcrest, your great-grandfather was a man of fearful omens and properties. You're not saying he had supernatural powers. The records, indeed, he had. There's a paper in the fires that accuses old Daniel Zanger of consulting with the devil. And there's another paper ordering his execution for the same thing. My great-grandfather was put to death? We're to believe the records, yes. What did you mean by that remark, waiting for the right descendant to come along? Oh, legend. The old Daniel Zanger, for his money, would keep until an avenging descendant came along. But don't you go get no ideas, young fella. Now, there's anything I can do for you. Yeah, there is. From the missing-air 20 bucks, huh? I'll leave train fare out of here. The train out of Hillcrest would have been the smart play. What curiosity got the better of me? I wanted to see Highgate once. Just out of town, I hitchhiked part of the way, and I looked at the rest of the way with a storm threatening. Highgate was more rundown than words could describe. I stood outside, watching the shadows pile around that big heap of junk. They had a look about it. This once had pulled you in. You were shot away forever. Before I knew it, I was heading inside, as if I couldn't help myself. But it wasn't pulling. I was being pushed in, as if there were someone at my back. I was inside, and the door bang shut. It was the wind, I told myself. The door had been open, and the wind had blown it closed. I had a feeling that I wasn't alone. I felt a presence near me, pushing me toward a sputtering yellow light in a square library room. No. Who? Who are you? They brought us. There wouldn't be Peter's anger, then. I'm Ted Lyon. What are you doing here? At the moment, making notes from the town librarian. What are those books you got there? The remnants of Daniel Zenger's personal library. There are many fascinating writings here. My great-grandfather's writings, you said? Yes. In addition to his other reputed talents, Daniel Zenger was a prolific penman. What do the manuscripts say? I can't tell. It's it. The language is English, but much of it is an old obscure dialect. No need to examine and interpret them. That is, if you have no addiction... No, I haven't. You can make a bundle of that stuff. Take it along with you and dope out what it says on one condition. One condition? Uh-huh. That you tell me what it says first. I dropped around to see the old librarian the next night. The shades were down. The library hours were over. Old Hillary Waters let me in. Space seemed to be burning with excitement. I've made an amazing discovery. The most amazing discovery. Your great-grandfather was put to death. Oh, that's no discovery. Don't interrupt, please. I have documentary proof that Daniel Zenger was a man of extraordinary vision and prophecy. And I present my proof. First tell me, was he rich? From all indications, fabulously rich. He accumulated a princely fortune. And he did what with it? I cannot say. But that is of minor importance. It is the remarkable scope of his prophecies I am principally interested in. OK, Spillard, what are the prophecies? In these manuscripts, written in the 18th century in about the year 1790, Daniel Zenger predicted Napoleon's defeated Waterloo, our civil war between the states and the rise of Abraham Lincoln, and the first and second world wars. You're kidding. I'm honest. There were other remarkable predictions. Your... What name? The state of England, a lion. Four generations removed and Daniel Zenger. Yeah? What about it? This obscure passage I came across in his book of predictions. In the fourth generation, a lion will come to the crest of the hill. And then, over high gate, what are you eyeing me for? Me? You're thinking the references to me? Yes. I must think that a lion, that is you plainly, theodore lion, and you're the fourth generation. And the crest of the hill is hill crest. This town, and you're the master of high gate now. What did the rest of it say? He will first silence the waters, then capture the jewel from the king. Thirdly, after seven days of wanton darkness, he will bring a tiny stone into the earth, and the flame of the sky will show him the four keys. There's a final line. Really? And the lion will sit with a ransom at his feet, and the winds will feel him from the wrath of the world. Funny change had come over the old librarian. He looked as if he'd run out of the room if I wasn't standing right smack between him and the door. I started toward him slowly. That prophecy you read to me, if there's any truth in it, it means that if I complete the three steps referred to in those clues, I'll reach a certain four keys and lay my hands on a fortune. Yes, yes. It purports to me, Ned. That's not quibble, huh? It means just that period. Now, boiling certain words down, words like silence, capture, and fling. The three steps mean three murders. Believe me. It is madness to accept or even interpret them literally. Let's get the weasel talk. It boils down to those three murders, doesn't it? No. Liar. First, he will silence the waters. That's you. Hillary Waters? I must first silence you. No. That's insane. You can't run away, old man. I've got to silence you. The chair came down on his skull and he dropped it. And my thumb on his windpipe for a couple of minutes. Eh. And I'd satisfied the first clue to a princely ransom. I'd silence the waters. He will silence the waters. Is there anybody around whose name is stream, flood, lake, or maybe river? Old librarian Waters had a look in the book and the prophecy tells his name's muddy waters now. A lion will reign over the high gate. Eh. If our hectic hero keeps on exterminating quite old scholars, I predict a lion will take it on the land. Let's verify my prediction, shall we? Okay, lion roar. I crapped old Hillary Waters on a chair at his desk. There wasn't a tell-tale mark on him. He looked as if his heart had backed up on him while he was pouring over his books. I moved into high gate. Old Daniel Zenger's second clue burning in my brain. He will capture the jewel from the king. What did it mean? Couldn't even begin to figure it out. All I could do was wait. And watch. Month drag by. And one night at the railroad, he called. I watched the signal fly go up. Watching the trains roar by and sometimes stopped was a way of getting a peek at the world outside of Hillcrest. I watched a girl get off. Young. Made up and dolled up in a style that yelled for a second look. She looked like my world. A big town, bright lights, fast talk. I moved toward her like a guy in the desert starts with a pitcher of water. The funny thing is she was coming right at me too. Could you direct me to the nearest hotel, handsome? I could even carry your bag there for a price. A local Wolfman? What's the price? Smile. Okay, now pick up the bag. I'm said lying. You? Ruby Meyers. Your business in Hillcrest? What are you, the local DA? I'm just a guy with time on his hands. I'm an advancing. Advance agent? Ballyhoo. I nail up posters, hire a local hall and I start the promotion and publicity going. It's really a man's job, but we women do it better. Well, you publicize it. Slogger Conlon, the middle-weight prize fighter. Conlon's barnstorming, putting on exhibition bouts. He'll be here Friday night. Well, what are you doing after working hours? It's between now and Friday night. Oh, I haven't thought about it yet. Got any suggestions? Honey, sister, I got a million. Before the end of the week, we knew each other a whole lot better. Walks, dancers, movies. There was someone behind me pushing me. As close to her as I could get. You're as nervous as a cat tonight. What's eating you? Nothing. Uh, what are you doodling? Doodling? Yeah, you've been scribbling at them mindedly for an hour. Well, let's see it. We'll capture the jewel from the king. That's a funny doodle. What does it mean? Nothing, nothing. The line I read from the poem somewhere, maybe. Um, Ted. What? We, um, we gotta break it up after tonight. I'm, um, I'm somebody's girl. In love with Slugger Conlon? No. Then why brush me off? Well, I've got to. The king's crazy jealous of me. If he saw you around, he'd be murdered. Did you say the king? Did you call Slugger Conlon the king? That's his nickname. Well, what's wrong? Nothing, nothing. The idea of losing you, that's all. Ruby. Yeah? Just came to me. Ruby is a precious jewel. Oh, now you're making with a sweet talk again. Come on, jewel. Let's have a last dance before the king claims you. Capture the jewel from the king. Second clue in the prophecy had been right under my nose for a week, but I hadn't seen it. When Conlon came in one day ahead of his party, I was right there at the deep of waiting for it. Ruby was back at the hotel, freshening up for her boyfriend. Slugger Conlon? That's me, kid. I'm Ted Lyon. Uh, I represent the town athletic committee. Uh, welcome to Hillcrest. Oh, thanks, kid. If I can take a shower, it's taking a flop in this sweet town. My car's over there. Parley and I'll drive you to a hotel. There you go. The town's all head up about the exhibition spot. King? You know my nickname, huh? I put on a show, just everybody turned out a buck 65 ahead. Hey, uh, how far to town is it? Another half mile. What are you stopping for? A flat tire. There's a break for you. I'm gonna load up this town. Well, where do you keep your jack? Don't bother worrying about the jack, Conlon. Hey, I don't see no flat. Say, what gives? What's a gun for? You, King. Is this a stick up? I haven't got a plot nickel, kid. Turn around. Sure. But you won't find a sound on me, I'll tell you. The King was dead. Had buried him in abandoned quarry, baggage in awe. His party arrived the next day. He stooped over why Slugger Conlon hadn't showed up, and then they left the following Monday. Nobody thought of making a search for him, checking with a railroad. Luck was with me. The King had pulled more than one disappearing act before, and his crowd was used to it. The party left, but the duel stayed. A week later, I married her. Where are we? Honeymoon, Hanson. In Highgate. We'll spend seven days there, alone. Thirdly, after seven days of darkness and want. There was only one way of interpreting the third clue in the prophecy. I closed Highgate to the world, and I settled down to seven days of darkness and famine. With slow agony. Without it, I'd never find the four keys. Without it, a lion could never sit with a ransom in his feet. The first ruby resisted. Soon she began to suspect that she'd married a crazy man. Ted, Ted, I've got to get out of here. Go stick for seven days. No, not even seven more minutes. I'm kidding. I'm here right now. Go stick it out, I said. Go stick it out. I'll have to chain you to the floor. You're mad. No food, no daylight. The same was dark. But seven days passed. I was ready for the next clue. He will fling a tarnished stone into the earth, and a flame in the sky will show him the four keys. Fling a tarnished stone into the earth. What did it mean? Ruby, come outside, Ruby, into the daylight. Ruby, I'll make all this up to you. All this suffering, I swear I will, Ruby. I'll sit with a ransom at my feet, and you'll sit right beside me, and there'll be gold and trinkets. No. You'll sit in the hot seat, and I'll sit twenty feet away with the witnesses, watching you burn. What do you mean? Watching me burn. That's it. Starving with my body dying by inches, but my mind was alive. I could think. I figured out you're a crazy dudeling and all your crazy recitation. He will capture a jewel from the king. I figured out what that meant. Better stop talking, Ruby. He tried to stop me. King. Slugger Conlin. I know why he never showed up that night. You met him and killed him. Ruby stood there pale and beat up looking, accusing me. The clothes were ragged. It lived in them for seven days and seven nights. A hard illusion of beauty was gone. Hunger had aged her seven years. The jewel had lost her sparkle. The tarnish of the misspent and wasted life was all over. There was a voice behind me. The voice of someone whose hands were pushing me toward Ruby. Pushing me toward the fourth clue in the prophecy. It was old Daniel Zanker. No. You're going to kill me. Yes. I didn't know then, Ruby, that you were the jewel and the tarnish stone both. No, you're trying to resist, Ruby. I'm too, too tired. My fingers on your throat for just a little while. It won't hurt. Too much. She hung limply in my arms and I flung her to the earth. And then there was a flame in the sky. A lightning spear. It seemed to fix in the sky, pointing like an arrow on an illuminated map. The flame in the sky will show him the four keys. I followed the arrow across the countryside. There was a wind behind me pushing the arm. Old Daniel Zanker was behind me driving me. I reached an ancient cemetery that was hidden in the Lost Valley. Then the flame was gone from the sky. And in front of me was a mausoleum. It stayed on its stone face red, 1790. Under it was a family name, Key. The door was unlocked. I turned the knob and opened it. And the wind slammed it shut behind me. The iron door had a knob on the outside only. There was no knob on the inside. I'm in here now. Trapped. Too weak to move. Hearing voices. The dead are all around me waiting for me to close my eyes and join them. What is Conlon Ruby? I'm in here to stay. You answered my feet. Gold coin. I think it's a go back to the time of Queen Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh. The lights are going out for me. I want them good to me now. Sit with a ransom at his feet. And the winds will seal him from the wrath of... Ha ha ha ha. Now there's an industrious lion for you. He built his own cage. Ha ha ha ha. A piflicated prophet named Penny Packer once said, Lions in scorn cages shouldn't prowl predictions. Ha ha ha. But some fellas won't do for a buck. Kind of brings a moral popping out of a wide crack in my brain. If a dead ancestor closes up to you, start traveling Bob. Fan out on a horizontal line. Before all you can get is vertical transportation. Ha ha ha ha. Inner sanctum has been brought to you through the facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education.