 Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Retro Radio, old-time radio in the dark, presented by Weird Darkness. Each week I bring you a show from the golden age of radio but still in the genre of Weird Darkness. I'll have stories of the macabre and horror, mysteries and crime and even some dark science fiction. If you're new here, welcome to the show and be sure to subscribe or follow the podcast so you don't miss future episodes. And if you're already a member of this Weirdo family of ours, please take a moment and invite someone else to listen in with you. Spreading the word about the show helps it to grow. And if you're here because you're already a fan of nostalgic audio and print, you'll want to email WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. When you do that, you'll get an instant reply with links to download full-length Pulp audiobooks, pulpy books and old-time radio shows for free. That's WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. Coming up, it's an episode from The Sealed Book, a program of all the secrets and mysteries of mankind, tales of murder, of madness, of dark deeds beyond belief. Tonight it's an episode from June 10, 1945, a horror story about two swindlers who try to scare an old lady to death for her fortune. Now bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights and come with me into the Weird Darkness as we listen to The Sealed Book and The Ghostmakers. The Sealed Book has opened the ponderous door to the secret vault wherein is kept the Great Sealed Book, in which is recorded all the secrets and mysteries of mankind through the hell this time. Open the Great Book and let us read the strange story of two scoundrels who would stop at nothing for money. A tale of ghostmakers as it is written in the pages of The Sealed Book. It is an autumn afternoon in the ancient New England village of England. In an old stone house a mile from the town, Agatha Wainwright is serving tea to her nephew Ned and a little man Ned is introduced as Professor Piedmont, a friend who has come to spend a few weeks with them while he works on a book to be called Old Graveyards of New England. Ah, so this is your graveyard, friend Ned. He looks like a man who'd be happy staring at tombstones. They make a fascinating study, Miss Wainwright. I'll take your word for it, Professor Piedmont. Myself, I'd rather read about them in a book. The professor not only writes books, auntie, but he's also an expert on psychic phenomena. Psychic phenomena, eh? Oh, you mean ghosts. Hmm, foolish fiddle-faddle dreamed up by silly people without the brains to know better. Ah, but Miss Wainwright, I assure you, you are wrong. Oh, nonsense. When a person's dead, he's dead. And I see anything I'm willing to call a ghost. I'll know I'm crazy, and I'll admit it. Why, auntie, this very house is supposed to be haunted. You know that. Oh, rubbish. This is a perfectly normal house. I've lived here a month, and I haven't heard so much as a board squeak. Ah, but Miss Wainwright, let me be only because you're new to the house and not yet sensitized. It takes time to become aware of occult influences. Oh, stop it nonsense. Oh, started all this talk about ghosts anyway here. Now let's have some tea and no more talk about ghosts. Well, Ned, now that we're alone, I suppose you tell me a little more than you put in your letter. I'm still not sure why you sent for me. All right, Professor. This is the gist of it. Three months ago, Aunt Agatha's brother died, leaving her in a state of $400,000, and Auntie's only living relative. Ah, I see. Yes. Light begins to dawn. No, wait. My uncle arranged his will so that Aunt Agatha gets only the interest, about $20,000 a year, and this house to live in. On her death, the entire estate goes to charity. I'm cut off without a penny. I see your uncle didn't like you, Ned. A shrewd man. Very shrewd. Yes, he was making sure I couldn't get my hands on any of it. But that's where you come in. If Aunt Agatha were to become, shall we say, ill, mentally ill... So that she was incompetent to administer the estate, you mean? Exactly. If Aunt Agatha were to lose her mind through shock or fright, who but me, her only relative, would be the logical one to administer the estate for her. You would then. Then you'd have the whole income for as long as she lived. Yes, and part of the principle too. No ways to manage it. I've got to get my hands on some of it before the end of the year, I'm sunk. I owe a little money, about $25,000. If I don't get it quickly, well, the people I owe it to are rather short tempered. I understand. Yes, Ned, I remember when I knew you were in Chicago. You liked the gamble, didn't you? That's your affair. Personally, I prefer to stick to my own profession, creating ghosts. Yes, I've heard of some of your jobs, Professor, and some of the ghosts you've created to order. Yes, I pride myself on having a unique occupation, Ned. I believe I'm the only ghost maker there is. And the ghosts I've created have been effective too. So I understand. Now what I want you to do is this. I want Aunt Agatha frightened to the point where... Yes, yes, I understand. Well, Ned, it's going to be difficult. She's a tough-minded woman, hard to scare, hard to drive insane. I've got to be done. I've got to get my hands on the estate. If you succeed, Professor, there's $5,000 in it for you. All right, Ned, I'll try. It won't be easy, but she may crack suddenly when the time comes. That type does you know. Good. Settle then. You brought everything you were apt to need? All my apparatus and gadgets are in my trunk. They'll be here tomorrow. I'm not old together sure I like this job, Ned. I hope you're not going to turn moral on me, Professor. No, no, no. There's something about this place that disturbs me, though. You know, I am psychic at times. Not altogether a faker. Next you'll be scaring yourself with your own stories. As we were driving past that old cemetery this afternoon, I suddenly felt a premonition and a chill. A kind of chill you're supposed to feel when you go near the place you'll someday be buried. Oh, it was just the wind. I'll have to get you some red flannels. Here. Here's something that'll give you your courage back. Drink it down. Ah. That does me good. All the different kinds of spirits. I prefer those in bottles. That you'd like it. Now let's go downstairs again. We won't talk about ghosts any more tonight. But tomorrow night, who knows what make I'm knocking at Aunt Agatha's door. But to continue the story, as it is written in the sealed book, the following evening, Ned and the professor joined Aunt Agatha by the fireplace where she sat knitting. Outside a cold winter wind blew. Oh, listen to that wind. We may be in for a storm. We're in for an early winter. That's what. The first snow will fall any day now. It's good to have a fireplace to sit by when the wind blows like that. Here's the cider and donuts, ma'am. Very well, Emmie. Bring it right in. Ah, cider and donuts. Just what we need in a night like this. Will you have a glass, Mr. Ned? Oh, yes. Thank you. Will you have some cider, Professor Peed Mom? Professor, Emmie's trying to give you some cider. Oh, excuse me. I was listening. I thought I heard someone knocking on the front door. Someone knocking? Well, there is someone there. Well, they can't be very anxious to get in. That's all the noise they can make. Shall I go see who it is, Miss Agatha? Yes. Yes, girl. Go see. Though I can't imagine who'd be calling at this hour of the night. Sounded like someone who didn't expect to get in anyway. A timid child or maybe a ghost. Well... There wasn't anyone there. No one there. Of course there was. Someone knocked, didn't they? But I opened the door and there wasn't anyone there. There was knocking. Answer me that. I don't know. But it wasn't anyone... Anyone you can see, Emmie. I'll stand for no foolishness now. No, ma'am. But just the same. There's nobody at the door. Someone's playing tricks on us and I'm going to see who it is. I'll come with you. You won't find anybody there. Well, we'll see. Well, what is it? What do you... There isn't anyone here. No, but there was. They slipped away into the bushes. That's what they did. Yes, of course. Some small boys playing tricks, I suppose. If I catch them, I'll turn their hides. Who was it, Miss Wainwright? Just some boys playing tricks, Professor. That's all it could have been. Come on, Professor. Drink your cider. What? Oh, yes, yes, of course. Professor, you look like a man who was listening to something then. What was it? No, no, I assure you. I am too old not to know when a man is lying, Professor Piedmont. What were you listening to? To tell the truth, I thought I heard voices. What kind of voices? Far away voices. Crying something I couldn't make out. I bet it was just the flames in the fireplace. I'm sure it was. Of course, that's all it was. Well, what do you say we all turn in? This New England air makes me sleepy. Hmm. Knocks at the door when there's nobody there. And voices. Yes, it's high time we were all in bed. Instead of sitting around here imagining such nonsensical things. Fees with their first effort in creating ghosts that didn't exist. Ned and Professor Piedmont went to bed. But before they retired, they held a brief low-voiced conference in Ned's room. Well, Professor, that door-knocking act was all right. You did it very nicely. Yes, Ned. An ordinary length of black thread runs through a crack in the window space and sets the door-knocker can create a very satisfactory ghost indeed. Now tell me, what comes next on the program? Well, we can't work too fast. Tomorrow the high girl, Amy, will spread the story of tonight's happenings. The whole town will start talking about it. Good. And then? Tomorrow night, nothing happens. Around Amy is reassured. But tomorrow, I'll be busy. I noticed today there's an old hollow tree in the woods about 100 feet from the house. What about it? I'll run wires to it, hiding them under the leaves and install a small loudspeaker in it. I'll conceal the microphone and batteries behind the drapes in the living room. I see. So two nights from now, we'll hear ghostly voices, eh? Exactly. They'll accompany the ghostly knocks on the door. But that won't be all. There'll be other surprises on the program. Professor, remind me to tell you sometime that you're about as unpleasant an old rascal as I've ever met. The next evening, Agatha Wainwright listened nervously for a repetition of the ghostly knocks. But nothing happened and she regained her composure. The evening following that, however, as she and Ned and the professor sat in the living room around the fire... Nine o'clock. The evening may just be starting in New York, but here in Wilton, it's bedtime. Hmm, seems to be someone at the door. So there is. Shall I go? No, Emmie can answer the door. She does little enough to earn her money. Emmie? Emmie? Yes, Miss Agatha? Someone at the door. See who it is, please. Must I, Miss Agatha? Must you indeed. Answer the door, Emmie. I'd rather not, ma'am. Emmie, see who is at the door. Yes, Miss Agatha. I'm going. Again? Emmie, get control of yourself. But I tell you, there's no one there. Then it's someone playing tricks. That's all you hear, Emmie. Yes. Yes, Miss Agatha, I hear. But I don't believe it. Go to your room. Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, Miss Agatha. But there wasn't anyone there. I hope I'm not going to have to discharge that girl. Shall I go this time, Emmie? No, Ned. The Rascals play their tricks, whoever they are. They'll soon stop when they see we pay no attention. I wonder if I could see them from the window. Maybe we could trap them if we were to go quietly out the back door and slip around to the front. What was that? Someone calling. Really? I don't hear anyone. It's someone calling to us to let him in. Strange. I can't hear it. You must have heard it, Ned. It was perfectly plain. There are some voices certain people can hear and others can't. If there's someone calling, we better take a look. Come on, Andy. We'll see what goes on. Who's there? Show yourself, whoever you are. The yard's perfectly empty. Oh, there isn't a soul in sight. Both the knocking and the voices seem to have stopped. Perhaps we ought to search the yard and... and act as a look down at the edge of the trees. Lights. Three balls of light moving around just above the ground. Really? Three spheres of light? And, dear me, luminous spheres are common manifestations of spiritual presence. No nonsense. They're just two will of the wisps. Whatever they are, we're going to see. Come on, Professor. If it's a trick, we'll soon know. Yes, Ned. Wait for me. Don't scare them away. I want to see what they look like. Ned. Ned, they're rising. They're floating away, but the trees... And Agatha, Andy, are you all right? Shall I get a doctor for you? Do I want with a doctor? I'm all right. I have an old fool carrying on like that just because of some will of the wisps or whatever it was. I shan't do it again, I promise you. You need not be ashamed, Miss Wayne Wright, unless I'm much mistaken, we've witnessed a psychic visitation of a kind unsurpassed in my suspicions. No stuff and nonsense, Professor. You may believe in spirits, but I don't. I never have believed in ghosts, and I'm not going to start now. It was just that it was, well, unexpected. In the days that followed, Ned Wayne Wright and Professor Piedmont found it impossible to shake Agatha Wainwright's iron nerves. Emmy the hard girl resigned in terror, but Agatha remained seemingly unmoved. Resolutely, she ignored the ghostly knocks, voices, and footsteps that Professor Piedmont's ingenuity devised. The whole town buzzed with tales of her haunted house, but she refused to pay any attention to them. After a month had gone by, Ned was ready to admit defeat. Well, Professor, you're a washout, and Agatha hasn't turned a hair at your ghost. No, Ned, I told you it might take a long time. She's a very strong-minded woman. Believe me, anyone else would have cracked by now. Well, she hasn't, and she's not going to. I still say it may happen all at once. She's nervous and distraught. She doesn't sleep well. Every evening she sits listening for ghostly voices, who she won't admit it, but she's made up her mind not to believe in ghosts, and I'm afraid she never will. Well, what do you suggest? It's the middle of December. I've got to get my hands on her money by the end of the year, and I'm sunk. We must play our last card. You. Me? What do you mean? She's fond of you. You're her only relative. What are you getting at? How would she feel if you, her only relative, would die and come back here as a ghost? I don't follow you. My plan is simple. We'll say goodbye to your aunt and drive off as if we were going away. Then, secretly, in the night, we'll return to the house. Yes, and then what? We'll see to it that she receives a phone call from a friend of mine in Boston. He'll announce to your aunt that you and I have been in an automobile accident. That we've been killed. Oh, I see. Yes, I begin to understand. Immediately after the phone call, we'll knock. She'll come to the door and see us standing there. And having just heard that we're both dead? Exactly. And if that doesn't work, Ned, we are defeated. But it'll be a strong mind indeed that can withstand such a shock. A strong mind indeed. Continue the story. As it is written in the sealed book, Ned and Professor Piedmont said goodbye to Agatha and drove away. It was starting to snow as they left, so they made their way by a roundabout route to an isolated road house, and there they spent the day waiting. After darkness had fallen, they started back towards Aunt Agatha's house. By now, there was snow feet deep on the road, and the cold blast of the north wind made even the heated interior of the car uncomfortable. I'll be glad when this is over, Ned. At the moment, it must be down to zero. Yes, at least. Well, we're almost there. We'll drive up to within 100 yards of the house and wait in the car with the heater on. What time did you arrange to have that phone call made from Boston? At nine o'clock, exactly. We want to knock the instant after she gets it. Right. Isn't that our turn there? I think so. This snow makes it so hard to see that... Professor, look out. We're going up the road right now. Ned, I smell gasoline. The car may catch on fire. Help me out of the road. Yes, yes. What happened? We skidded down a 10-foot bank and turned completely over. If you'd watched where you were going, it wouldn't have happened. I couldn't tell it was ice under the snow. I would never mind that. We've got to get to shelter. And I think my ankle's broken. Yes, I can't step on it. You can lean on me. Where are we? A quarter of a mile from Aunt Agatha's. There isn't another house within a mile. Come on. We've got to get there quick. Lean on me. Help all you can. We don't get there soon. We'll freeze to death. Numb with cold and scarcely able to struggle on, Ned and Professor Piedmont staggered up to Agatha Wainwright's house. The windows all had heavy wooden shutters over them. Shutters they themselves had helped Agatha put in place to keep out anything that might come knocking at the door in the night. But through the small pane of glass in the front door light showed as they stumbled thankfully up the steps. Kevin, we're here. Gooden have gone another hundred yards. I'm all right. I'm almost frozen. We've got to get inside. Yes. Here, help me. All right. One more step. There. Ned, the phone call from Boston. What time is it now? Time? It's nine. Nine o'clock exactly. Now quickly. We've got to get inside before that phone call comes. Inside, Agatha Wainwright heard the knocking. But before she could go to the door, the telephone rang and she answered it first. Yes, this is Wilkin 317. Boston calling long distance? Yes, I'll hold on. Just a minute. Yes, this is Miss Wainwright speaking. The Boston General Hospital. My nephew Ned. What is it? What's happened to him? Dead. And oh, no mobile accident. Both of them killed? No? Oh, no. Yes, yes, I'm all right. Thank you for letting me know how come in the morning. Ned killed? Oh, no. No, no, he can't be. Let me in. Ned's dead. He's been killed. Let me in, please, Agatha. Ned, let me in. No, Ned's dead. Ned's dead. Let us in. Let us in. No, you can't be Ned. Ned was killed. He's dead. Agatha, please. There must be Ned's ghost. The professor was right. There are ghosts. It's Ned's ghost out there. Agatha, we're freezing to death out here. Please, Agatha. You can't come in. You're a ghost. You're Ned's ghost. You can't come in. Next morning, Ned and professor Piedmont were found frozen to death beside the house, where they made a vain effort to pry open the heavy wooden shutters that covered the window. You see, Agatha never did let them in. She knew better than to open the door to ghosts. Keeper of the book. Before you close the great book, show us the tale we tell next time. This one, why, this is amazing. It's a tale of murder. Queer, unexpected, fiendish murder. Murder of a very different and unusual kind. A tale such as you've never to be with us again next time, when the sound of the great gong heralds another strange and exciting tale from the sealed book written by Bob Arthur and David Cogan is produced and directed by Jack McGregor. Thanks for listening to this week's Retro Radio Sunday episode of Weird Darkness. If you haven't done so yet, be sure to subscribe or follow the podcast so you don't miss future episodes. And if you like the show, please, share it with someone you know who also loves old-time radio and pulp audio. If you want to hear even more, drop an email to weirddarknessatradiorchives.com and get an instant reply with links to download full-length pulp audiobooks, pulp e-books and old-time radio shows absolutely free. That's weirddarknessatradiorchives.com. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright Weird Darkness 2023. I'm Darren Marlar, and I'll see you next week on Weird Darkness's Retro Radio Sunday.