 Lytton tea and Lytton soup present inner sanctum mysteries. Good evening friends of the Inner Sanctum. This is Raymond, your host at the squeaking door. Come in, won't you? Were you shivering? Cold? Aw. Well, don't let it throw you. Just remember that many are cold, but fewer frozen. Well, our story to be different tonight is about murder. Murder and a clock. So, if you've got a little time to kill, let's do it now. Why, Mr. Raymond, nobody can really kill time. Well, maybe not, but you certainly can frighten it. Didn't you ever hear of an alarmed clock? Mr. Raymond, someday you're going to choke on one of those puns. And won't that be nice, Mary? Then you can revive me with guess what, Lytton tea. Oh, dear, must this go on week after week? Why must I talk to the only person in the world who doesn't know the proper uses of Lytton tea? Oh, don't say that. It isn't used to revive people, at least not in the way you mean it. Of course, lots of folks do find that Lytton's makes the day seem brighter. Yes, it sort of helps them through their housework to sit down now and then between meals as well as at dinner and supper and enjoy a cup of Lytton tea. And the reason why Lytton's is so satisfying is because of that one little word, brisk, B-R-I-S-K. Tea experts say that Lytton's has a brisk flavor, which means that it always tastes tangy and bracing. It's never flat or wishy-washy. So folks ask for Lytton tea at your grocers. You just don't know how good tea can be till you've tried Lytton's. Yes, and when you leave the grocer, step next door to the clockmaker shop and ask him for the Judas Clock. If he doesn't have it on hand, just ask him to give you the works. Yes, the title of tonight's story is The Judas Clock. It's an original radio play by that old clock watcher, Christopher Mayo. Now a star is Barry Kroger, who plays the role of Sebastian Packer. I'm a clockmaker. I carry on the profession my father taught me in London. I like clocks, all that is but one. For 30 years I've looked for a certain clock and a certain man. The clock is known to collectors as the Judas Clock. The man I swore to kill when is a boy of 14. I closed my father's glazing eyes and wiped the froth of blood from his lips. Last night I found the Judas Clock. Tonight I may have found the man. I'm told you're an expert clock repairman, Mr... Packer, madam. Yes, I suppose. Well, I have a clock. Rather, my husband has, and it hasn't run for years. Would you have a look at it? Will do. Can't you bring it in? Heaven's note weighs 500 pounds. One of those huge marble things. Italian Renaissance, I'd say. Marble? Italian? Can you describe it further? Well, it's rather unusual. Black marble, heavily carved with biblical characters. The ivory face has a beautifully etched scene on it, but it's a gruesome one. Groosome? What kind of a scene? It's a picture of a man hanging from a tree. Judas. His face is positively gassedly. The Judas Clock. I knew without seeing it why the clock wouldn't run. It had been built in Italy for a prince of the House of Savoy in 1598. He conceived the idea when he discovered that his family's treasures included the 30 pieces of silver of Judas' scarlet. The clock was made to run only when the 30 silver coins of Judas were in place in the clock's hollow weights. 15 in each weight. And the coins had been in my possession since the day of my father's death. Somewhere inside me, that clock still beats its deep-throated song. And I have but to close my eyes to hear again my father's voice. It's an evil clock, son. Well, Mr. Packer, can you fix it? Oh, I'm sorry. I was daydreaming. Yes. Does Mr.... Arnold. Arnold. Does Mr. Arnold know that you're having the clock repaired? No. We've only been married a few weeks and I'd like to have it working when he comes back to town tomorrow. Sort of a surprise. Yes, I see. And I'll be there in half an hour, Mrs. Arnold. So last night I went to the Arnold House and found the Judas' clock again. I started to work. Foghorns from the East River sounded much as I remembered they did in London. And suddenly I was back there on a fateful day about a fortnight after the clock had been uncrated by my father. I was in the shop and the man from Scotland Yard stepped in. He walked straight to the clock and stared at it. Good afternoon, sir. Is the clock interest you? Very much. When did you acquire it? The cousin bought it at an auction in Italy and I'm displaying it for sale and consignment. My name is Pettibone Scotland Yard. He's been looking for this clock for a month. It was stolen in Italy. Stolen? Yes, Mr. Packer. And worse, murder was done. Fraud, you're involved in a bit of something here. Murder? I'm taking possession of the clock in the name of the Crown. I shall never forget the look of horror on the detective's face a moment later. He laid his hand on the clock's carving and it froze there while its face drained white and his eyes bulged. He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly and crumpled to the floor with his hands to his throat. He was still and twisted and very dead. Mr. Pettibone had died of a heart attack the moment he took possession of the clock. I helped father drag him into the stock room. Father wanted time to think. So I went to my room. I dozed off only to wait hours later the sound of angry voices. Thelka's an Andrew. You've done me a fine turn, haven't you? I've told you I didn't mean to kill the old girl. It was an accident. Don't talk so loud. Boy will hear us. You killed her as soon as you learned she'd made out a will in your favor. Then when you thought it was safe you saw all her furnishings and sent the clock to me to sell. Very well I did. And you're in it to the ears. I'd go to the police. And how will you explain poor stiff Mr. Pettibone lying in your stock room all this while? Besides Timothy, there's nothing to fear now. Pettibone's gone. He was the only one who suspected me. Now you're the only one who knows. I'll create this cursed black monster tomorrow and you leave with it. And will you also create Mr. Pettibone? I have a plan. Here. Sit down in this chair right here. I'll show you how we can solve the whole thing. My young heart beat with a wild dread as I listened. I could only see cousin Andy's back, but I could see father seated dejectedly in the chair near the Judas' clock, his head in his hands. It was midnight. All the clocks in the shop began striking the hour, and louder than all the rest was the chime of the evil clock. If only then I'd known I might have done something, but the slow strokes beat on 8, 9, 10, 11. And before my horrified eyes, the heavy marble piece leaned slowly from the wall and crashed across my father's back. Cousin Andy stood facing my father as the clock crushed his frail form and choked him. He made pitiful little sounds, his eyes begging for life. And the murderer just stood as if back to me and watched. Thundering sinners, you die hard. Cousin Andy ran from the shop crying for help. He would claim an accident. I raced into the shop. My father was dead. I choked back my tears, and I closed the poor, staring eyes. I took the coins of Judas from the weights of the clock and ran from the shop. The blood-stained pieces jangling merrily in my pocket. Armed with the notion that the coins were of value and the definite notion that I must eat, I approached one of the many dingy little curio shops in the Limehouse District. I stepped through the fog, tore a shop where a dim light burned in the rear. Every inch of wall and ceiling was hung with curios, old armor, swords, and shields. I would have run out, but a weasened, apish man barked at me from the rear. There! What do you want? I... I have something to sell. What you got? I have the 30 pieces of silver that belong to Judas' carriot. I'll twist this scrawny neck off you're pulling me like, eh? Oh no sir, I'm not pulling your legs sir. Here they are. Silver right now? Where'd you cop them? Oh, I didn't steal them sir. They belong to my father. A likely tale then. Will you buy them? Buy them, he says. Buy them. Get out of here before I cause a bobby a scam. Get out! Oh no, give me my coins! Get out or I'll come about and fetch you a sound one! The ugly brute came toward me. He held my coins, clutched in a tight hairy fist. Before I could move he had struck... And I hit the wall with a clatter. And then it... it happened again. For the second time that night the curse of the Judas' clock struck. As I hit the wall my eye caught a metallic glint above and a heavy object dropped from the ceiling. The man was about to strike me again when the object struck his head. And remained part of him. He fell. His skull split in two. By a hangman's axe. Clamped my mouth on a cry and pried the man's fist open. The fresh blood made it hard. But I recovered the coins. That stumbled and panicked through the shop and out into the night. The Duke of London never swallowed a more frightened and lonely boy. That nasty fog swallowing a little boy. That reminds me of a little nursery rhyme. Hickory dickory dark the mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck two. Look out, it might strike you. Heavens, I'm glad I don't own that terrible clock. Oh, don't say that, Mary. Just think if you had the Judas' clock then time wouldn't hang, Evelyn. You know it would fall on you. Well, if it did fall and you rescued me, wouldn't that make you a time saver? Well, split my sides with an axe that Mary didn't make with a jill. Well, a very little one, Mr. Raymond. That's true. But seriously, I do have something to say about a time saver, and I'm thinking about Lipton tea. You know, Lipton's is such a handy beverage. It takes a little time to prepare, and it's always so welcome. Yes, its famous brisk flavor makes it enjoyable, not just at your own meal times, but between meals and whenever folks drop in for a visit. That's why it's a good idea to buy Lipton's in the larger, more economical-sized packages. That's right. The larger packages are much thriftier. So you see, it's wise to keep on hand a really good supply of that brisk-flavored Lipton tea. Oh, sure. It'll come in handy to warm up the chills you get from these inesanctum stories. And, brother, you're going to shiver plenty with Barry Kroger as Sebastian Packer as this story goes on about the Judas' clock. I hadn't touched those horrible coins of Judas' carriot since the day the storekeeper was killed. By now, I half-believed the legend that death followed them. I began to feel that the only way I could escape their curse was to find the Judas' clock and put the coins back in its weights where they belonged. One day, as I read the notices in the times, my heart skipped a beat. It said, It said, Auction of Clocks. A choking place, auction room, Saturday at 7. Rare items, one of them fine Italian Renaissance piece of black marble. Rare treat for collectors come early. Interested in something, young man? Oh, why, yes. Well, that is nothing in particular. Just looking at these splendid pieces, I thought I might stay for the auction. Hmm, look about. Auction won't start for a bit yet. I sauntered toward the black clock. My hand had scooped all the coins from my pocket. I would have to work fast and noiselessly. My sweating fingers began to unscrew the small cover on one of the weights. I would soon have the coins put back. Yes, I thought. Look! What have you got in your hand there? Let's have a look. No, nothing at all. I was just examining. Examining my foot? You've got a flock of coins there. You must have taken them from somewhere in the clock. Yes. No, no. Give them to them. Sometimes when things happen quickly, the mind retains details that would otherwise escape notice. As the men and I struggled, I dropped the clock's weight. It hit a short round bit of metal directly below it. The man had a vice-like grip on my clenched hand. He lost it, little rich! No! I'll wrench your handle for you! I heard a whoring sound within the clock, and before my horrified eyes, the supporting panel at the front of the clock's base slowly lifted on hinges. The clock was off balance and began to fall forward. I screamed a warning. The clock! The man was dead, mashed to a pulp of bone and blood beneath the clock. As my father had been, I ran to the door and out into the street. I was right back where I'd started. Only now I knew that my father had been murdered by cousin Andy. I walked for miles trying to pull myself together. I wandered aimlessly, so I thought, but fate had traced my path before me. Because I was startled to find myself staring into the shop window of a rare coin dealer named Megaroid. I walked into the shop. Mr. Megaroid was a nice little man. He smiled a bit quizzically at my firm belief that I possessed the betrayal coins of Judas. I poured them onto his counter. Oh, I say you could be right, you know. Well, these are the right era. I say suppose they are. Let me put a glass to them. Mr. Megaroid, would they be worth a great deal, even if they weren't the... Well, let me see. Let me see. Yes, gracious. Yes, they should be worth a great deal as collectors' items alone. Well, Mr. Megaroid, I feel that there's something I should tell you about these pieces. They... Yes. Oh, it's not important. Oh, well, now just a moment. I have a catalogue on this here in my show window. I'll fit you just a chiffy. The coins lay on the counter. I watched Mr. Megaroid run down the aisle. As he approached the display window, his foot caught in an electric wire which lay across the floor. The lights went out and I saw him pitch forward. Oh, Mr. Megaroid! Mr. Megaroid! The streetlight peered through the broken plate glass and clad across a grotesquely sprawled form in the show window. I needed no more light than there was to see what had happened. Me up a half of the heavy plate had broken and dropped flat against the solid lower half. There was no need to ask how he was. No guillotine could have done the neater job. Mr. Megaroid! Mr. Megaroid! Mr. Megaroid had no head. Tonight, I shall find out if Mr. Arnold is cousin Andrew. If he is, I shall feel no remorse in killing him tonight because while working to repair the Judas clock last night, I discovered how my father's accidental death had been well-conceived, diabolic murder. When the right-hand weight reached the floor of the clock on the twelfth stroke of midnight, it tripped a trigger which collapsed the base of the clock and caused it to fall forward. My father had died on the twelfth stroke of midnight. Have you finished, Mr. Packer? No, Mrs. Arnold. I shall have to come back tomorrow night. What time do you expect Mr. Arnold tomorrow? About eleven, I'd say. Will you be finished by then? Well, I think so. I'll have to take these weights to the shop with me, though. There's something has to be added to them. Well, of course, Mr. Packer. Mr. Arnold will be so surprised to see the clock running, won't he? He'll be very surprised, Mrs. Arnold. I've put the coins in their place within the weights. Not fifteen in each weight, but fifteen in one and ten in the other. The other five coins are in my pocket. In another pocket, I have a small thirty-eight, although I don't plan to use it. Eight o'clock, and I have a thirty-year-old date to keep. Good evening. Oh, Mr. Packer? Yes, but I'm closing now. I see you are. My name is Arnold. Just came in from Chicago. Sorry to spoil your little surprise, or my wife's rather. You, uh, you surprised her instead. Yes, she had to confess. I wanted to go out, so she had to tell me about engaging you to repair the Judas Clock. You don't want her to repair? Why all means, I insist. It's a splendid idea. But what I came for, really, was to tell you that you and I have much to talk about. Oh, do we? Yes. But look, close your place and bring along whatever you need to fix the clock, and we'll talk about it at my place. I'm all set. Let's go. I think you'll have it fixed in time to strike midnight. Oh, yes, yes, it will strike at midnight. Well, there we are, Mr. Arnold. Waits are in place. Let's see. Exactly ten minutes before midnight. Set the hands, and just a little shove on the pendulum. So, and the Judas Clock ticks again. It's an evil clock, sir. The Judas Clock wakes from a 30-year sleep. Hey, cousin Sebastian... Cousin? What? That's what I wanted to tell you. My wife told me your father owned this clock in London. Oh, I... Well, yes. I was your father's cousin. Your Sebastian Packard, the little boy who ran away that night. Cousin Andy. Yes. I wonder how much you know of that horrible night when your father was killed. Well, I... I know the clock fell on father. I heard the sound from my room, and I was so frightened. I ran down the rear steps in time to see them carry father away. He was all covered up. So that was why I didn't find you in your room afterward. It happened so fast. We were sitting talking. The clocks were striking 12. Suddenly, the base of the clock seemed to cave in, and... I know. I bought the clock at an auction a few years later. Had it all fixed. It's good and solid now. I saw to that. Yes, sir. Well, I suppose I'll run along now, cousin Andy. Nonsense, nonsense. Let's make up for lost time and get acquainted. Come now, I have some fine old port from England here. Sit down a while. No, no, no, not that chair. This one's a lot more comfortable. It's a funny thing. When you work with clocks, as long as I have, you get to philosophizing about time. That's all. How? Well, here I sit by the big clock, just as my father said, 30 years ago. You know how many seconds ago that was, cousin Andy? No. Do you? Well, I don't know. Three hundred and fifteen million, three hundred and sixty thousand seconds in ten years, and the nine billion, four hundred and sixty million, and eight hundred thousand seconds in thirty years. You've got quite a mechanical mind, Sebastian. Yeah, try this pot. Thank you. Here's to what's the matter, cousin Andy. Are you ill? No. Your face is quite drawn gray. Shut up. Cousin Andy, it's late. I guess I best go. You know, you do look awfully sick. Oh, don't get up, oh man. Stop talking, sinners. Yes, sit down and relax. Take my chairs. The more comfortable you're shaking like a leaf. Now just sit quietly. I'll see myself out. Stop talking, sinners. Good night, cousin Andy. Poor cousin Andy. You're choking to death. You die too, don't you? It was just a matter of timing. I set the hand a minute fast and the weight didn't touch your clever little spring device till just now because it's lighter by five pieces of cursed Judas money. Rest easy, Father. He cast down the pieces of silver in the temple and departed and went and hanged himself. Very sad. But a fine chime was had by all. Uh, anybody want to buy a large grandfathering clock? I'm in the market for a sundial and sell. A sundial? My, they are old timing. Hmm? Say, Mr. Raymond, if you're afraid of clocks that tick, why don't you try to get hold of one of those old Egyptian rules? Oh, Mary, now you're going to tell me that when tea time comes around, the water begins to boil in the clock? Well, that would be quite an invention. But no, Mr. Raymond, right now I'm not going to talk about Lipton tea. Instead, I'm going to tell our listeners about an important job that lies ahead. A fight that's far from finished. Yes, the battle for Japan. Our government says that this specific war will be one of the most bitter and difficult in history. Never before has the nation fought so far away from its own shores. And to support this fight, we at home must work even harder at our home front activities. We must keep on buying more and more bonds, and we must hold on to them. And above all, we must stay on our war job until the job in the Pacific is over. Well, I'll leave you with a cheerful, timely moral. Oh, that goes with tonight's story. No extra charge. Now, you can figure out how many seconds you've lived. All right, that's your pastime. But you can't figure out how many you've got left. That's just, uh, some time, you know what I mean? Well, I'll see you in just 640 minutes. You know what I mean? Well, I'll see you in just 604,800 seconds from right now. Well, that's next Tuesday night at nine o'clock, of course. By the way, this month's Inner Sanctum Mystery Novel is the lucky stiff by Craig Rice. Well, now it's really time to close out their squeaking door until next Tuesday night when Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup bring you another Inner Sanctum Mystery, directed by Hyman Brown. So until then, good night, pleasant dream. Folks, if you'd like to give the boys overseas a real taste of home, then why not include a package or two of Lipton's noodle soup mix the next time you send them a box of food? Yes, Lipton's has the same homemade chickeny taste as the soup you make right in your own kitchen. That's why it's a thoughtful welcome little gift to send Lipton's. And as you know yourself, Lipton's noodle soup makes a grand snack. So remember, send a package or two to your boy. And remember to tune in next Tuesday night for another Inner Sanctum Mystery. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.