 The story of Daniel Kittridge was submitted by a listener to this series, but it is only one of thousands of such stories that are brought to the attention of those who concern themselves with the world of the unknown. And so it takes its rightful place in that vast body of evidence drawn from the everyday lives of ordinary men, evidence that the supernormal does occur in spite of those among us who would disbelieve. In the Chicago police records for the month of August in the year 1925, one will find set down in a sober and routine report the testimony of one Henry Becker, intimate friend of Daniel Kittridge. On the night of August 12th, Mr. Becker visited Mr. Kittridge and the new men sat talking of bygone days. And suddenly at 1227 by the clock on the mantle, Daniel Kittridge lead to his feet and turned very pale. My brother, my brother, George, something's happened to him. Henry, he's... No, I may not be here. We hurry. We might still be able to help him. You've got your car out in front. Will you take me out to George's place? He's hurt, seriously hurt. If we leave right now, we may not be too late. How could you possibly know all this? We've been seeing... I just know it, that's all. I feel it. Now come on, Henry, please. Reluctant way, Henry Becker climbed into his car and drove Daniel Kittridge some five miles out to the apartment building where his brother lived. It was almost one o'clock when they finally reached their destination. All right, Dan, here we are. It's too late now, George is dead. If you go up, Henry, I just can't bring myself to do it. Cursing himself for a fool, Henry Becker climbed the three flights of stairs to George Kittridge's apartment. He knocked on the door and waited. He knocked again, and then finally a door directly across the hall opened and on the thresholds to the woman in a dressing gown. Is he... is he dead yet? Is... who dead yet? The gentleman who lived there, Mr. Kittridge. Why... why I don't know. Why should he be dead? Oh, well, I thought perhaps you were a member of the family. I thought you knew. Knew what? What's this all about? The poor man had a terrible accident about an hour ago. He came home, his wife was out, and he had no key. So he tried to climb in from the porch, but he fell. He fell all the way down and landed on a cement walk. Oh, it was horrible. He was still living when the ambulance took him away, but I'm sure he must be dead by now. George Kittridge died in the Alexian Brothers Hospital shortly after he was admitted there. But the tragic news came as no surprise to his brother Daniel. Like so many other men whose relatives and friends have met a sudden death, he sensed the fact long before he had been informed of them. This, then, is a case like all the cases of its kind. A case incredible, but true.