 Lipton Chee and Lipton Soop present Inner Sanctum Mystery. Darling Irene Wicker. Good evening, friends of the Inner Sanctum. This is your host inviting you in through the squeaking door. Ease yourself in. The welcome fat is out. Pick yourself a place to stand. You have several choices. You can stand in awe, or stand against, or stand rooted to the spot. Or if you find you can't stand it at all, just stretch out on the floor and lie still. You'll have plenty of company there before we get through with tonight's list of victims. He's a gracious host. I don't think I'd enjoy that company. Well, he's not very lively, Mary. In fact, you may find them a little stiff at first. But they won't interrupt if you want to talk. And you know I do want to talk, Mr. Host. So suppose you go greet your other visitors while I have a little chat with our Lipton, isn't it? You know, folks, sometimes when you're trying to describe a thing, you find it very hard to think of just the right word. But that doesn't apply when you set out to describe Lipton Chee. For Lipton, it's so different from other teens. Its flavor is so extra-special that there's a special word to describe it. Brisk. Yes, brisk is the tea expert's word for full-bodied, tangy flavor. But then why bother with words when Lipton itself can tell you so much more? You'll taste the difference right away and discover how much Lipton's brisk flavor adds to your enjoyment. Yes, with Lipton, you get all the goodness nature put into tea. So for deep down satisfaction, folks, fill your cup with brisk-flavored Lipton tea. That's a good idea, Mary. And now, friends, if you'll just reach over and switch off those harsh bright lights, we'll begin our story of The Creeping Wall by Sigmund Miller. Starting Irene Wicker in the role of Karen Jeremy. Just let the soothing darkness envelop you like a straight jacket. You'll be surprised how nervous you'll feel. Here's Karen now. Can you think of anything more absurd than being afraid of the walls in your own home? Why, I should feel that way. I don't know. My husband, Horace, seems to think it's just a case of nerve. Walls are just made of wood and plaster. Still, they give me a queer feeling. Once while sitting alone and reading, I had an odd sensation that the walls were tilting. I looked up, and sure enough, they were all leaning toward me. I closed my eyes, but when I opened them again, they were all sprayed again. Oh, it was a horrible experience, but a much worse thing happened to me last night. I was asleep, dreaming that I was sitting in front of my vanity, making myself crispy. I was alone, and too late at night. Suddenly, I noticed through the vanity mirror that the wall behind me was a little closer. Quite still for a moment, and I turned around, and it was closer. You have to experience it to know what a dreadful feeling that is. Then I heard a crunchy sound. The opposite wall also it moved nearer. I screamed, don't be a whisper. Then all the four walls began to hem me in. They moved nearer and nearer. I could feel the cold of the walls filling the remaining space of the room. I was going to be crushed to death. There was a book of matches on the vanity. I left a match and held it near the cold wall. It stopped moving. They were afraid of the heat, and it began to move again. I left another match. It held it until it drained itself out in my hand. I frantically left another one. The light, it slayed up, and then it died out. The walls began to move. They were just into the window, and one of them touched my hand. I think cold and dreadful. In an agony of terror, I beat against the walls, and I screamed at every breath of life in here. Karen, Karen, what's the matter there? Beating the walls. Karen, what is the matter with you, dear? I'll never forget it so long as I live. Well, nightmares are always frightening, dear. You threw the covers off, and the room's very cold. You probably brought it on. You forget it, darling. The dream won't come back. We talked for a while, and Horace dozed off. But I remained wide awake. I tried to sleep. I even tried counting sheep. While I was counting, I got a sick feeling the walls were rarely closing in on me. I continued to count. 14, 15, 16, 17. The walls were coming closer. I wasn't believing it. It was my imagination. Only in mind. 18, 19, 20, 21, 20. Don't ring over me. You're moving silently this time. Get some water quickly. The curtains are on fire. Help me pull the curtains down. What did they catch on fire, Horace? Well, there's a book of matches on the floor, Karen. Here's a burnt-out match. I didn't do it. Oh, believe me, Horace, I swear. You haven't been feeling well lately. I think you ought to see Dr. Gustafson. Don't believe me. I wouldn't do anything like that. You probably weren't aware of it. Probably nothing serious. Dr. Gustafson's a very good man. No, no, no, no, Karen. Don't be a baby, darling. All of us get ill sometimes. Dr. Gustafson is a little man with sharp eyes. I told him the whole story about the walls and the dream. Tried to be at ease. I was nearer on his desk than I thought. I kept fixing my hair. It didn't look so well today. Two new gray hairs, Karen, had to pull out. He kept watching me very closely. All the time asked me questions about my youth. I told him everything, even about winning the beauty contest. When I was 17, he seemed very interested. Mrs. Jeremy, it seems to me you have an obsession about being beautiful. You're not as young as you used to be. Neither is your appearance. That's why you're afraid of close scrutiny. That may account for your fear of close spaces. Went on like that, looking at me as though I were a grand middle-aged woman. He didn't like me and I didn't like him. I just liked the way he spoke to me, the way he watched me. Karen! What's the letter opener down? I was just holding it. You will hurt somebody holding it that way, darling. No harm was met, then. The best thing you should do, Mr. Jeremy, is to get larger living quarters. Your wife may be suffering from acute claustrophobia, among other things. I was glad to visit that horrid little Dr. Gustafson didn't influence Horace at all. He still loved me. He told me I was the loveliest woman in all of the world. One day he came home in great excitement. Darling, I've got a wonderful surprise for you. I've just bought the famous Meadow mansion. Oh, Horace, don't be careful. You must my hair. What is this Meadow mansion? Well, it belongs to John Aiken, you know, the famous naturalist. He was killed for a fellow note of accident. It's a huge house and you won't be troubled by walls ever. Come on now, darling. We have to see the agent sign lots of papers. We went to the agent's office. Mr. Swanson was his name. A very friendly old man. He kept looking at me all the time he was talking. Mr. Swanson, we'd like to take occupancy in the house right away. I don't think it's a good idea, Mr. Jeremy. You see, there's still another Mr. Aiken's property in the house. Oh, well, we don't mind that. You don't understand. It's specimens Mr. Aiken's kept there, animals and snakes. They're waiting to be shipped to the zoo. Well, there's nothing to worry about. They're in cages, aren't they? It'd be very unpleasant if they weren't. If they're dead, the snakes must have. I'd be only waiting a few more days. They'd all be shipped out. Oh, don't worry about it. We leave the animals strictly alone. We've just got to move in right away. Well, the house is so big, I guess you can manage. Here are the keys and good luck to you both. Maddo mansion was magnificent. It was big and gracious. The rooms were huge and beautifully decorated. The high ceilings gave you a wonderful feeling of freedom. But the drawing room was the loveliest of all. A large prison chandelier hung in the middle of the room and the walls were paneled halfway up to the ceiling. But most exciting of all, each wooden panel had a darling little mirror set into it. There were easily a hundred such mirrors. Oh, it was very gay. You could see images of yourself anywhere in the room. It was all breathtakingly beautiful. Except for a picture on the wall of a very flashy looking woman called Delilah. Well, darling, how do you like our new home? Oh, it's wonderful, Horace. I love it all. Everything. Except that picture. Well, you mean Delilah? Well, that's a fine painting there of a very beautiful woman. She looks evil to me. Darling, I do believe you're jealous. You needn't be. She isn't half as pretty as you are. Alice, Alice, answer the dark line. We didn't talk about the picture anymore because Mr. Swanson, the agent, came in to see how we were getting on. I left Horace talking to him, and I wanted him to the next room. There were a dozen cages standing near the fireplace, ready to be shipped off to the zoo. There were mostly snakes and leathers in the cages. All of them were quite emotionless. Except one was labeled Bushmaster Benzuela. Very odd name for a reptile. Fairfully ugly, yet it fascinated me. Some four-feet long, fat and clumsy looking, yet it slid around the cage with wonderful grace. It kept moving round and round, trying so hard to get out. It looked at me pleadingly. And then I found my hand on the safety catch. I drew it away in horror. We kept going round and round for a glass of water. I'd be maddening drug walls so close they'd touch you all the time. I remembered what a terrible feeling it was to be frightened of walls. Then suddenly, this snake was in the middle of the floor. Karen, it's out of the cage. It's still Karen. I was only wondering how it had escaped from the cage. It lay there in the middle of the floor with its head up. It started to move. It slid in a wide circle. Don't make me talk to me. I've got to get out of here. It's not a nice way to make an exit. I'm really sorry we had to lose the bush mass. We could have used it in another story. But that's the way it is in our business. Our losses are terrific. Houses burned down. Money is stolen. Characters die away on it. Every week it's something else. It's simply murder. You do have a lot of trouble, don't you, Mr. Hoax? Mary, we have so much trouble. I'm in a sanctum. Even our troubles have trouble. I think there are times when all of us feel that trouble is piling up on us. But you know, friends, I've found a good way to get over that feeling. Just say to yourself, I'm going to relax and have a cup of Lipton tea. Then when you're comfortably seated with your tea cup within easy reach, give your mind something pleasant to think about. That Lipton tea, for instance. Notice Lipton's deep amber color, and it's welcome, familiar fragrance that's so tempting, then tasty, and discover how really delicious that brisk flavor is. Just for real enjoyment, any time during the day, just take a few minutes out to enjoy a piping hot cup of brisk flavored Lipton tea. Oh, I'm certain they give you a suggestion to try, Mary. And our friend, if you'll give me your hand, we'll go on with the story. Or would you rather take yourself in hand? Things are going to be a little rugged from now on, so take a firm stand, sit tight and buckle down. And it won't be a bad idea to grit your teeth and square your shoulders at the same time. By the way, if you can do all those things at once, let me congratulate you, you're quite an athlete. Here she is, Karen Jeremy. I was ill for a long time. I don't remember how long, weeks, maybe months. Horace never spoke about that horrible afternoon. After a while I stopped thinking about it. I liked my new home. That old mansion was such a beautiful place I rarely left it. I loved best of all the drawing rooms, with its darling little mirrors and the wooden panels. I could see myself from all sides. It was so much fun. My absurd fear of walls was beginning to fade away. There's only one thing that irritated me. That was the picture of Delilah. I was determined to get rid of it. Karen, stop blaring at that picture. I don't like it, Horace. I wish we'd get rid of it. It's a fine work of art, why? I don't care. An evil picture to me. Karen, look here. You're just jealous of her. You're jealous of any beautiful woman, even if she's only a painting. You don't care for me anymore. That is a ridiculous thing to say. You know it's not true. If you really love me, you take that picture down off the wall. That picture is staying right where it is, out for your own good. I'm going out for a walk. And Karen, I absolutely forbid you to touch that picture. I'm in it. I've been in that there for quite a while. Dearing that picture that was upsetting my life with Horace, he was always kind and gentle with me for the first time he'd ever lost his temper. I looked at Delilah with a gleam of white teeth between her full lips. She was an abandoned-looking thing. Her long hair cunningly untidy. Her eyes sparkling, black, shameless. She seemed to be laughing at me. I made up my mind. Horace would understand. I got a knife from the kitchen. And I pulled the chair over to the picture. And I stood up on the chair, then began to fly. What are you doing? It's no business of yours. Go away, Alice. Oh, you mustn't do that. Mr. Jeremy will be angry. I told you it's none of your business. Please, please come down off that chair. You're destroying a beautiful painting. You meddling little fool. I'll teach you to interfere. I've put up with you for a long time. Nobody's ever dared to slap me. Oh, you vicious, miserable hag. That's what you are, a hag. For years I've pampered you. I've always told you how beautiful you were, how lovely you looked. Well, maybe you were beautiful once, but now you're just a... It wasn't me. It couldn't be me. I wouldn't do such a thing. My hair was all untidy. And I thought of Horace. He would never believe I didn't do it. Look at me in that piercing, sad way. No, he mustn't see the body. I must hide it before he gets back on the carpet, too. I took a scatter rug and carefully placed it over the spot. I waited for Horace to... There seemed to be no walls. There seemed to be cars sat there fighting off that old carousel. Praying and praying that Horace would come for me. As soon as he came, I'd put my arms around him and never let him go again. Never, never, never let him... There's a door not turning. I hurried over to the door. Oh, darling, darling, darling. It was all my fault. Please forgive me, Horace. I can't... There, you're being angry with me. Please, there, you forgive me. That's all right, Karen. I shouldn't have lost my... What happened to the painting? It's cut. Cut it all? I'll get Alice to take it over to the art shop. Maybe they can repair it. Oh, well, Alice isn't here. She's... Get to her blue coat from the tailor's. Karen, that is not true. Alice got back to it this morning. Where is she? I... I don't know where she is. Karen, you do know. Where is she? She was here just a little while ago. She... She must have gone out. Alice. Alice. I'm going to find out. No, no. Please don't leave me. Please, Horace. Don't tell me where she is, Karen. I can't remember anything. Karen, did... Did you do anything to her? No, no, nothing. You're not telling me the truth. Nothing has happened to her and you're hiding it. Now I'm going to find that she must be somewhere... No, no. No, she isn't in the hall. I'm sure she's not here if you don't know where she is. I... I didn't mean that. I'm going to look around. There's blood on the floor near the closet. Yes, I... I cut my finger. The closet is locked. Have you the key, Karen? No. No, I don't have it. Karen, give me that key. It was such a thing. Dr. Gustafson, Karen, maybe you can help me. Don't go. I'll be back as soon as I can. I looked at myself in the mirror. All my beauty was gone. Wasn't beautiful anymore. My face was all wrinkled and pale. My hair hung down lifelessly. Do you see me now? I looked evil. I bolted the door. I didn't want him to come back and see me looking this way. The walls were moving again. They were very clever. They waited for Horace to leave. They were afraid of him. He was again in the mirror. There were dozens of me. Then something very strange happened. All the images of me began to come out of the mirrors right into the room. It was incoming out of one mirror, going back into another. It began to move very fast in and out, even slowly, but they couldn't fool me. Delilah was nearer than ever. She was still laughing. Twenty years younger. I'm sort of sorry about that, Maid. She seemed like a nice sort, and I don't think it was quite kind to be so cutting to her. Couldn't get an apartment out of him, any of it. Couldn't have been a very pretty picture, Mr. Hoagst. No, Mary, but you'll have to admit it was remarkably lifelike. Well, while you're admiring it, I have a few words for our friends listening in. You know, some people tie a string around their finger to remind them of things. Well, I'm not going to ask you folks to do that. All I want you to do is just remember all the good things I've told you about Lipton's tea and let them remind you to get a package of Lipton's tomorrow. Lipton's wonderful brisk flavor. Its full-bodied goodness means more contentment in your tea. Remember, Lipton's the tea that gives you extra pleasure and extra satisfaction. Ask your grocer for a package tomorrow. Well, that should be easy to remember, Mary. Well, friends, it's time to close the squeaking door until next Tuesday, when we'll get together again for another killing time. Oh, by the way, this month's Inner Sanctum mystery novel is The Pavilion by Hilda Lawrence. Yes, the next week's Inner Sanctum story directed by Hyman Brown and brought to you by Lipton's tea and Lipton's soup. Next week's story is called The Edge of Death. Feeling a little edgy already? Very interesting story. Yeah, it's sort of a mixture of Russian legend and modern psychiatry that tells of a beautiful and sinister old sword. I'm sure you'll get the point. Oh, until we meet on The Edge of Death next Tuesday. Good night. Pleasant dream. Here's a grand dish to get your dinner off to a good start. Lipton's noodle soup. It has all the homemade goodness and real chickeny flavor your family loves. Lipton's noodle soup is seasoned to perfection and it's full of tender, golden noodles. Hard to prepare, not a bit. It takes only a few quick minutes from package to soup, please. Economical, too. Costs less and makes lots more than canned soups. So get Lipton's noodle soup mixed tomorrow. And don't forget to tune in next Tuesday night for another Inner Sanctum Mystery. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.