 Good evening, friends of the Inner Sanctum. This is your host to welcome you through the portals of the speaking door for another delightfully horrible half hour with a delicious escortment of obnoxious people. Friends, I've just come from a formal dinner that was given by the Society for the Presentation of People to raise money to buy a blood bank for toothless vampires. All the gay girls in town were there. As for the first chorus, they said, an ectoplasm salad with astral blessing. But the best part of the evening was the entertainment. They had a ballet of dancing skeletons doing a rumble to the beat of their own bones. It made everybody grin from ear to ear. Wouldn't you have liked to have been there? Tonight's Inner Sanctum mystery, The Magic Tiles, was written by Milton Lewis and stars Mercedes McCambridge in the role of Catherine with Everett Sloane as Mark. All right, friends, let's get dreadful. Now remember, don't scream back at the radio. It won't do you any good. All set, then listen as we hear Catherine Brine tell us this story in her own words. A flash of lightning, like a giant white electric light, lit up the sky that night as I went up the wall. And brine man can look like a huge gable tune standing there on the gills. It carries two huge skeleton arms stretching up into the glass sullen sky. The moment I wanted to run, to run as far and as fast as I could from this house where I was born, and I wish now that I had as much as I hated it, I had come back. Not because I lived there, not because I wanted to be there, but because in this house I should find out if I was going to live. Or if I was going to die. I let myself be quiet and made my way to the living room. Then there was a rustling of spirits and my mother suddenly appeared and a dim shadowy light. Cathy, Cathy dear. Hello, Mother. You're so late, I was becoming worried. Oh? Was my stepfather worried too? Why, yes, dear, Mark, it's still up. Here, you've got to take your coat off. It's soaked through. No, don't you touch me. Please, darling. And don't start sniveling over me again, Mother. I can't stand it. I was just trying to help you. Yet you're always trying to help me, aren't you? Well, why didn't you think of helping me before you married that man upstairs? Oh, no. You're such a pretty woman, Mother. You couldn't possibly be without a husband. What would people say? Catherine, please, you can't go on like this. No, I can't. I can't go on very much longer without destroying myself. You must not say such things. And why not? Are you and Mark very happy if I should die? Wouldn't it, Catherine? Nobody in this house wants me to go on living. Good evening, Catherine. Mark, I didn't know you were here. I'm aware of that. I heard you. Mark, she didn't mean it. She didn't mean a word of it. Oh, but I did. And now that you're both here, there's something that I've got to find out tonight. It's very important. What is it? Ten years ago, my father died. Catherine, we can't discuss that now. Please, Catherine, I've got to know certain things. Why? Because if I don't, something dreadful might happen to me. Now, Catherine, you're exaggerating. Dr. Wells doesn't think so. I've been going to him for months now. And he knows that there's grave danger that I'll go completely out of my mind if I don't find out about this, my poor son. No, no. Can't he be mother healthy? Tell me how my father died. You know you were there. Don't try to put me off. Don't try to be about my father's death ever since I was a child. But, Catherine, there's nothing to fear your father but fear of an accident. He was a doctor. That will be enough, Lola. Put more. We'll call Dr. Wells the first thing in the morning and discuss this matter with him. Why don't you let him tell me? What have you got to hide? We're not going to discuss this until I speak to Dr. Wells. Lola, I suggest you come upstairs as soon as possible. Good night, Catherine. Mother? He's gone. You were going to tell me? Where was this accident? Mother, how did this happen? Who was involved? Catherine, you're in no state to hear anything right now. Mark was right. We should speak to Dr. Wells the first. Yes, speak to him so that you can both make up an appropriate lie to tell me, well, I don't want any lies. I want the truth about it, Mother. And I'm prepared to go to any length to get it. Look at this, Mother. No, Catherine. Look at it. What is it? A woman told this to me today. A strange little woman. Yes. It's a sort of tiny, painted tile. It's not just an ordinary tile, Mother. Come from the audience, the woman said. Can you see this odd design? Well, if you look at it long enough, a strange thing will happen. You'll find yourself able to talk to the dead, to see to me wherever they are, and to touch them, and I'm going to talk to my father. You can't be serious. If you won't tell me what I want to know, then the dead will. My mother left the room, and I sat down in front of the fireplace as I used to when I was a child. I looked at the tile. At the design, the parallel lines and dots seemed to dance before my eyes. I stared at it. It seemed to hold me to control my gaze. And then almost at once I felt a nice, cozy chill in the air, and the design ready. In its place there was black, infinite space filled with shadows. And still shadows beyond shadows. And then, I noticed a speck of gray come out of the brightness. The strange, helpless odor came toward me. The first day slowly and gradually faster and faster as the whip was coming to me through endless gears of space. Suddenly there was near scattering thunder clouds and a streak of lightning zig-zag through the room in a mean thing dance. And then I heard the front door close. I heard footsteps approaching. I turned around, I faced the doorway, and then I saw him. You're Kathy, Kathy Brine. You know me? I did. 10 years ago. How strange this house has become as though deep in the heart of it something started to rot and decay. It was not like this when I saw it last. Where? Where did you come from? Tell me, how do I appear to you? How you appear? Yes, please. With white hair? With white beard? With your eyes? No, it can't be. What can't be? That my eyes are the eyes of a corpse? That I look more like a dead man than a living one? Yes. That should not be so strange. Who are you? Where did you come from? Where is your mother? Upstairs. And her husband? I heard she'd remanded. He's upstairs, too. Did you know my father? Dr. Brine? Very well. Very well indeed. How did he die? I want to know that. He was murdered? Yes, murdered. How did you know? I saw it all. You saw it? I was punished for it. He murdered him? No, no, no. I did not kill him. He was the only friend I had in the world. That's why I came back here tonight to see. Didn't you ever know how your father died? No. Would you like to know? Yes, it's more than anything in the world. He was the kindest of men. And that's what led to his destruction. He took a man under his care, a man who had been given up as a raving maniac. And rather than see this man placed in an institution, he kept him in the guest cottage of his house. Sweet. I remember now that man was a poet. Yes. His name was Dennis D'Amour. Your father believed this man was a great poet and struggled to save him. Did this man murder my father? No. One evening when your father came in to treat D'Amour, there was a third man in the darkened cottage. This man leaped at your father and drove a knife into his back. The poor man, man frightened, ran over the countryside until he was caught by the police. And he was charged with the murder of your father. You said that you saw all of this. I did. Then do you know this? This mad man. Dennis D'Amour. Your dad? Perhaps I am. Oh. A murderer. Who was the person who murdered my father? You know him quite well. He's the man who's now married to your mother, Mark Weldon. Hi. Can you prove this? Your father is the only one who can prove this. My father, can you bring my father back here? Bring him back? You came back? If you could only bring him and prove this? Prove it? Perhaps I can. Perhaps I will bring him back tonight. Just then there was a tremendous thunder clap and the electric lightspeed. I tried to see him by the fire lights, but he wasn't in the room. I ran through the door, something or a furniture in the back was screaming for him to wait. I opened the front door. What do you want to say? When I came back into the living room, my mother was there and with her was Mark Weldon. Cousin, we heard you screaming. Did you, mother? What happened? I... I found out how my father died. Really? How? He was murdered. Tell her anything. No, not a word, Mark, I swear. Cousin, how did you find out? I told you how I'd find out. That... That tile? Yes, that tile, mother. It worked. That's impossible. Of course you'd say that. But I discovered tonight that you, Mark, you murdered my father. You cleverly arranged that the poor patient of his name, Dennis D'Amour, would be arrested for the crime that you committed. Who told you this? Dennis D'Amour. D'Amour? What's he here? Mark. And he told me everything. And you believed him? Why shouldn't I? Why the man's a maniac. I don't know how he ever got here. He should be at the State Institution for the criminally insane. I wish to speak to whomever it is in charge. And call me back as soon as you get to the surgeons. Yes, sir. I'll stand. Thank you. Cousins, you actually claim you spoke to this man? Yes, Mark. And he told me that he saw you murder my father. You're lucky you escaped with your life, the man's a homicidal maniac. I find it shocking that you should even begin to believe this fantastic story. But it seems to be true. Doesn't it? My father was murdered, and Dennis D'Amour was sent away for the crime. Yes, that part of it is true, but do a few. Me? Not only a few is it, you must. But he's going to prove it. How? By bringing my father back here. Well, now we've tolerated her in this house. Hello. Hello. This is Mark Weldon speaking. Has one of your patients, Dennis D'Amour, escaped from the crime scene? That's right. A homicidal maniac. Thank you. Goodbye. What is it? Dennis D'Amour is dead. He was killed two years ago. What's that, old friend? I do like to have a little tiny pile that can produce dead men for you. Or don't you think that Dennis D'Amour is a ghost? Maybe you think he's just an old Popeye's poltergeist. Well, we'll know in a moment. As we hear Captain Bryant have us the second half of her weird story. My stepfather's hand tremble as he hung up the phone. Even in the red glow of the firelight, I could see his face as suddenly turned snow white. My mother said nothing. But she's scared that anybody went to the desk and missed one of the cameras. It's impossible. The dead can't come back. Unless you're making up this whole thing, Kathy. Why should I invent a story like this? Because you've always been insanely jealous. You've always hated your mother for marrying me. Isn't that true, Laura? Isn't it? Yes. It's true. There. You see, Captain? Your mother loves you. She wouldn't lie. Now, tell us the truth. Tell us the truth. Tell us the truth. Tell us the truth. You made up this whole wild tale about Dennis D'Amour, didn't you? No, Mark. I didn't invent it. Dennis D'Amour was here. He couldn't have been. He's been dead for two years. Then how would I know the things I told you? I don't know. That's what you've got to explain. Come on. Why does this upset you so? If you didn't murder my father, what proof does it make about D'Amour? Why are you so frightened? I'm not frightened. I'm just determined to get to the bottom of things. What's with that? Just the thunder, Mark. Laura, why are you looking at me like that? Right. Right spot. Staring at me? As though you've seen me for the first time. Do you believe this man told me, Captain Stodas? Do you think I murdered her father? I just remembered certain things, Mark. I can't help it if I think of them now. What thing? Tell me what thing? Before the murder, you told me you were in love with me. I sent you away. I told you never to come to this house again. Yes, go on. On the night of the murder, I saw you standing in the moonlight, near the guest cottage. You did? Well, I thought I was mistaken, especially since you claimed you were at home that night. Mark, now don't be angry with me. I can't hope to hear these things now. It's only natural. Natural? Is it natural for a man's wife to accuse him of a crime-like murder? And on the basis of what? The word of a psychopathic girl should have been confined long ago. He's talked to a man who's been dead for two years. I suppose you believe that, too. And who is this man, even assuming that he is alive? A madman, a homicidal maniac who took your first husband's life when your husband tried to kill him? Well, I've had enough of this. Mark, what are you taking out of that drawer? Cabby, come here. Why? What's that done away? You shut up, Laura. Cabby, I won't hurt you unless you try something dangerous. I'm holding this gun because I believe your mother and I are no longer safe in the same room with you. Now, I want the truth. You were lying to us before, weren't you? No. Very well then. Who is this man you saw? I'd like to see him do. I don't know. Of course you don't, because he doesn't exist. He does! He appeared when I looked at the Chinese tile. The Chinese tile? Good, good. Look at the Chinese tile now. Make him appear. You're trying to make a fool of me, a liar. Do as I tell you. Look at that tile. Go on. All right. I will. What do you see? Nothing, but the design. Yes, and that's all you're going to see. No, no. No. The design is fading. It's getting dark. Dark. Nothing. Just flashing. The front door. Someone just came in. The footsteps. That's just how he came in the last time. Perhaps, but I doubt it is. No! But you remember me, Laura. You've changed a great deal, but it is you. Mr. Weldon, it's been 10 years since I've seen you. Them more. Then you're not dead. There must have been some mistake when I identified you. Not dead. You escaped. Someone must have been identified instead of you. That's the only explanation. It depends on what you choose to believe, Mr. Weldon. I brought a guest with me. My father. But, Brian, I'm sure you know these people quite well. Of course you do. What's he saying? Talking to my father. That's right, Kathy. Unfortunately, you cannot see him. But he is here. Aren't you, Doctor? Them more. What are you up to? What do you think? If you come back here to make trouble. Trouble? No. I've come back because someone wanted to know the truth. And I brought the doctor back for the same reason. Doctor, before these others, I want you to tell us who murdered you. Who murdered you? Maniac. That's not the reason. It's because you murdered my father and you didn't want us to know. I did kill him. Mark! It doesn't make any difference now. This maniac has planted the suspicion in your minds. You would have found out sooner or later. Mark! Yes, I killed him. Were you Laura? I left him. That's over now. It's been over for a long time. I know what to do now, and it's going to be very simple thanks to our friend lying there. What are you going to do? Don't you know, Laura, it's so simple. Your bodies must be found in such a condition that they will be certain they're more killed you. Then I'll tell them how I shot the homicidal maniac to protect myself. The same way he killed my father? Yes, Kathy. You won't die. Thank you, Mark. Did you think you could kill me well, little devil? Do you think those shots will stop me? Shut up! Don't you come near me! Stand back! Nothing will stop me, Welder. The guns! The jetties! No dog! Let go! Let go! Let go! Let go! I saw the boys fight no more. They hit him, but they didn't stop him from lurching toward Mark and seizing him by the throat. As they fell to the floor, the kerosene lamp fell off the table. It might have been the wind, but I believe otherwise. I'm almost certain it was my father. And then in a moment the drapes were on fire and the whole place was blazing. I screamed to my mother to leave, and she ran with me out of the blazing building. Two weeks later my mother came into the hotel room where we were staying. I've just come from the police, Kathy. Well, Mother? Only one body is positively identified. Who? Mark. The other body? They haven't been able to find it amongst the rubble. I don't believe they ever will. But, Kathy, the police checked particular authorities at the Staples Institution. It seems that some of the patients did escape at the time they had the fire there two years ago. It's possible that Demor was among them. It's possible? But I doubt it. You think Demor died two years ago? Yes, Mother. Don't you? A short time later the police found something in the ruins of the building that had once been a human being. They assumed it was the remains of Dennis D'Amour. Identification was impossible. However, these remains freed us of all suspicion. And now we are living in the city. A long way from Grand Mansion, where I know that the dead come back to settle their debts. What's the meaning of it? Well, friends, I guess you've met ghosts before, but I'm sure this is the first time you've ever met a crazy spook. Or don't you think Dennis D'Amour was a ghost? Well, you know, there's only one way to find out if ghosts really exist. Just ask when to haunt you sometimes. And that, of course, brings us to the moral of this story, which is taken from the gibberings of graveyards. The wise old lunatic who said, if you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, close the window and don't bother the neighbors.