 This is your host to welcome you into the Inner Sanctum once again. Come in. Our little place may not be a mansion, but it has its advantages. For one thing, it's thoroughly scare-conditioned. The scream pipes are always in good working order, and the rent's quite reasonable. We get a cut-rate. What happens from now on, you asked for. Just be sure the family is provided for. And now to our happy little anecdote for tonight. Bird song for a murderer. My name is Carl Warner. I'm not a young man any longer, but I don't mind that. I wasn't very happy when I was young. Now, well, at least I'm not unhappy. And late at night, after a lane has gone upstairs to bed, she's my wife, and she's very pretty and younger than I am. Perhaps I made a mistake in marrying her, but... Well, anyway. Late at night, I go into the room where I keep the birds, and then, listening to them sing, I get as close to happiness as I can expect. I stay an hour, and then I cover their cages, and then they know it's time to sleep. And they sleep. Even on the stormiest of nights. This was a stormy night. Someone knocked at the front door. It was late. We know very few people. We kept to ourselves mostly, Elaine and I, so... I was worried a little when I opened the door. Yes? Mind if I come in, Mr. Warner? This kind of day apart. No, of course not. You seem to know me. I do, don't I? But I don't know you. My name is Brul, Chester Brul. Chester Brul? I still don't know. Remember? It doesn't matter. What? What did you want? Nice place you got here. Much nicer than Kragmount. Kragmount? Kragmount Asylum for the Insane. You... you worked there? I used to work there. This is all very interesting. Anything happened just before I left. One of the inmates escaped. This baby was a homicidal maniac. Homicidal? That's right. I don't see what all this has to do with me. I didn't say it had. There was one funny thing about this inmate. What's that? Love canaries. Long to listen to them sing. Psychiatrists at Kragmount found it very interesting. Birdsong was the only thing that kept the murderous impulses down. Mr. Warner. I'm out of words. That's too bad. You're not doing badly. Nice house, furnishings. Didn't I hear canaries singing before I come into the house? Maybe. Maybe you did. So, uh, 5,000 in the morning? No. I think yes. Otherwise, Kragmount will be happy to hear from me. 11 Crescent Place. Room 2B in the morning. You can show me to the door now. Of course. Good night, Mr. Warner, till we meet again. I watched him go out into the blackness and the blackness swallow him. The birds were quiet. I thought for a moment of taking the covers off the cages and letting the birds sing and then... Then I thought that tonight it might be better if I didn't let the birds sing. I didn't expect it to be two or three hours. Unfortunately, a lady and I had separate rooms and at breakfast the next morning she was fresh and young and beautiful. Carl? Why are you staring at me in that funny way? Nothing. You really shouldn't read at meals. With only the paper. So many exciting things happen. I can't wait till I get to them. Still... Oh, isn't that terrible? What is? A man was murdered last night. Not very far from here. Crescent Place. Crescent Place? Such an odd name. Chester Brewer. Carl, your coffee, Carl. Sorry, I... I wish you wouldn't read the paper. It says that his canary... He had a canary, Carl. Was singing when the landlady found the body. Oh, that's pathetic. Elaine, I told you not to read that paper. Give it to me. Carl, you're tearing the paper up. What's the matter? I was nervous this morning. Don't remember you ever having been like this before. I told you I was nervous. Now look, darling, why don't you go into the aviary? Listen to the birds for a while. You love them so. They have such a nice effect on you. I went into the aviary as she suggested. And I listened to the birds. But it was quite a little while before I stopped trembling. Carl? Yes, dear? Come into the kitchen. All right. I've been washing the breakfast dishes, darling. I've found this among them. Carving knife. This isn't that funny. Besides, look at it. The blades all covered with brown stain. I see. Sure, I've washed it after dinner last night. Did you use it for anything? No, darling. Now give it to me and I'll wash it now. Oh, I can do it. I just wondered what... Oh, the door. Will you... No, you give me the knife. And you answer the door. I said you answer the door. All right. There's nothing to shout about. I don't know what's the matter with you this morning. I washed the knife quickly, but carefully, very quickly, but very carefully. It didn't take long. The stains hadn't hardened much the... the brown stain. Car? Yes? Someone to see you. A man. What does he want? He didn't say except that it was important. I'll go see him. He said he's a lieutenant. A lieutenant, Greg, from the police. There are 17 steps between the kitchen and our living room. I know because I counted them while I was walking to see the lieutenant, Greg, of the police. 17 steps to make my face polite, relaxed, smiling. But would I be able to hide the trembling of my hands? Your lieutenant, Greg, my wife said you wanted to see me. Yes, that's right. Mr. Warner, did you know a man named Chester Breaux? Chester Breaux? Why, I... I can't say offhand. I've got such a bad memory for names. I may or I may not. Why? He's murdered last night. You see, we found your name and address in Breaux's address book. I see. We thought you might be able to help us. Well, the fact that my name is in its address book doesn't mean... Prove anything? Well, of course not. Uh, what the fact that Breaux used to be an attendant in an insane asylum mean anything to you? Why should it mean anything to me? Well, I didn't say it should, Mr. Warner. I just thought... Well, it doesn't. Well, I guess that's that. You know, a funny thing. There was a bird cage in Breaux's room with a canary in it, singing its head off. Huh? Well, lots of people are fond of canaries. Sure, sure. What was funny about it is that Breaux's landlady swears Breaux never had a bird. That is funny. Why it looks, the killer knifed Breaux and then left the cage and the bird in it behind him. Doesn't make any sense. Unless you figure that the guy who killed Breaux was insane. The birds have been quiet, but the slam of the door may be... started them off. And I knew that somehow I would have to get the cage and the bird in it out of Breaux's room. I didn't know how I'd do it, but I'd do it no matter how insane it was. It was dark when I got to Crescent Place. Dark on a lonely street. There was no one in front of the house. Nothing to show that a man had died inside the night before with a knife in his throat. The door was open. There was a dim light in the vestibule leaving the stairs beyond in darkness. I went up them to the second floor. There was no one in the corridor. The door of 2B opened and I went in. No light. The moon cast a pale glimmer over the room and someone in a chair near the window. For a moment I thought it was Breaux, but then I realized it was a policeman in uniform asleep. The cage was near the sleeping man. Would his sleep be sound enough? I reached out, lifted the cage, reached that door. Greg is here again. Greg, where? In the bird room. Why did you take him to the bird room? He asked me to. All right. Oh, Lieutenant Greg. Oh, hello, Mr. Warren. Quite a collection of canaries you've got here. Yes, I have. Were you home all last night? Of course. This is still about Chester Bull's murder. Say, remember my mentioning I thought that the man who'd killed Breaux and left the bird cage behind him must be insane? Well, you did say something of the sort. Yeah. And then there's the fact that Breaux used to work with insane people. Begins to mesh, huh? I know very little about police work. I hope I'm not boring you. Anyway, it occurs to me, maybe I'd better take a trip up to Cragmont. I suppose going to asylum or any police else is just part of your job. Oh, sure. Uh, did I mention Cragmont was in asylum? Well, uh, you, uh, but you must have, I mean... Yeah, well, I'll run up there and I wouldn't be surprised if I get all the answers. What do you think? I think I'm going to. What is it, Elaine? Well, it's so late, I thought. Oh, I can take a hint, Mrs. Warner. Don't bother showing me to the door. He seems like a very nice man. He's bad. What? That stare. I didn't know you so well. I'd say you were going mad. Look at what? The window, the garden. Lieutenant Greg didn't go away. He's down there. Get away from that window. Go to bed. But he looks as if he's waiting down there for something. For what, Carl? I knew what he was waiting for. I knew I mustn't go to sleep. Things happen when you sleep. Well, I hadn't slept well the night before. Not well at all. And I'd been the strain of the day. And it was night now, and, ah, still. As soon as I got up, he wasn't in the garden anymore. He must have got tired. Wherever policemen go. Oh, dear, as the Swenson's dog. Fresh ones, Elaine, out of my way. I've got to go to the bird room. Taking the covers off the cage is awkward, but I held on to it anyway. And the birds were still. They remained still unless I took the covers off. Elaine. Carl, you must tell me what's wrong. Don't, don't come any closer. But... Elaine, please, not any closer. You've got that knife in your hand. Yes. The one with the brown... Don't say anything. Carl, the night before last... Elaine, don't ask questions. That's dangerous. You were out of the house last night when Lieutenant Greg was... I was asleep. You have the knife, Carl. Yes. Give it to me. No. Give that to me. Oh, no. I took it from Lieutenant Greg last night. After he stopped crying, they always cry when you... Elaine. Didn't like it the way you've been looking at me, Carl. You were thinking that maybe you'd have to send me back to Craigmont. I wasn't. You were, Carl. I know you were. After Chester Brue died. Elaine. Stop where you are. All right, but... Keep your hands away from the bird cage. Don't pull off the cover. But I didn't want to like the others. It was my fault. Loved you too well. Killed those others. Not you, my darling. That's a very silly thing to say. And I'll become quite angry. The story of a couple of lovebirds who, instead of billing and cooing, went in for killing and shooting. Of course, it was all little Elaine's idea. All Carl did was cover up. Well, friends, it's time once again to close that creaking door. Until next week at the same time when we'll be back with a little hunk of horror. You'll be sure to listen, won't you? Until next week then.