 Good evening, Creeps. This is PFC X, raising the curtain of the mystery playhouse. Tonight's play was written by A. Merritt and is entitled, Burn, Witch, Burn. Creeps, this is a story that borders on the supernatural. It is about a doctor, a man of science, who finds himself in conflict with a strange evil force that defies all science. A doctor who doesn't believe that some things he hears are possible until he sees them with his own eyes. Listen now to Burn, Witch, Burn. My name is Dr. Lowell. The laws of science have always been the horizon of my understanding. That is, until recently. I'm confused, bewildered. I've seen things which could hardly occur according to scientific explanation. Awful, gruesome things. Things which belong in the dark ages. It all began on that day when that notorious gangster, Julian Rakori, brought one of his gunmen into my hospital. The man died horribly. Most horribly. I stood there studying the terror-frozen face of the dead man. I was baffled, but I couldn't accept the explanation of Rakori who kept mumble. Las traiga. Las traiga. What's that you're saying, Rakori? That's who killed Peters. Look here now. You've upset my hospital staff badly enough bringing that man in here without any regard for the proper procedure. It was an emergency, Dr. Lowell. Nevertheless, now you have the audacity to suggest some ridiculous superstition as the cause of his death. Which indeed. Then you tell me what killed him, doctor. When the autopsy report comes in, we'll know. You'll know nothing. Look at Peters' death. You've seen men die before, lots of them. Did you ever see a man look as he did before he died? Sorry, eyes. They're staring up at you through you. Beyond you, it's a world of fear and terror. You want me to believe he was killed by black magic? By a witch? I don't care what you believe. It's true. Mr. Rakori, I have other patients. Doctors. You're a blind fool. Oh, come in, Dr. Lowell. Goodbye, Mr. Rakori. You can make arrangements with the nurse outside for the removal of your friend's body. Doctor! Hold! Hey, he's mad. Yes. How's Nurse Walters? I gave you the sedative. This man's death was certainly a harrowing experience. No question about it. I myself never experienced anything like it. The horror of his expression, the convulsions was as if the whole trouble was in the man's mind, not the body. Stop it before you begin to sound like Rakori who believes a witch killed him. Have you ever heard of anything so absurd? My impressions suggest it's something of the nature of murder. Murder? Yeah, well, not in the ordinary sense of the word. It seems as if there was a... a will determined to kill his body. Well, then you mean suicide. I've watched a few die in my time because they lost the will to live. No, no, I meant there was another's will. Another's? Yes. A will stronger than Peter's gripped his. Then in complete possession, willed his death. Dr. Breer, I know it sounds far-fetched. Eat it. Those waters... you were told to lie down. I couldn't. Oh, Bob. What is it, dear? I'm afraid. Of what? I... I don't know. I can't explain it. That man lying there. Peter's. Dr. Lowell speaking. Very well, I'll be there at once. That was the serology lab. They found something odd in Peter's blood. I'll be there if I need it. Darling. Bob. Why, you're still trembling. Let's get out of here, huh? No. Stop looking at him, dear. He was just a thug, a gunman. You're mistaken. You didn't know him. It's something to do with that doll woman. Doll woman? That's where I saw him. Or rather a doll that looked like him. Edith, you're completely unnerved. Please let me take you to your room. You do something for me. Of course. Take me away from here. Where to? Anywhere. Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow we'll go away. Far away. We were going to get married in June. We'll get married sooner. At once. Edith, you... Don't look at me that way. I'm not mad. I'm just frightened. Of what? I... I don't know exactly. It all has to do with... Edith. Edith, what is it? Edith, what are you staring at? Babies. Edith. We've got to save her, Doctor. We're fighting what killed Peters. Obviously, she's contracted the disease. Edith. Edith. She's in a coma. She can't hear you. Whatever it is, she's fighting it. I know. We can't just stand here and watch her die. What can we do? Nothing helped Peters. What did you find in his blood? Why did they call you to the lab? Nothing that will help us here. What was it? The strange incandescence in certain blood corpuscles. No doubt, Rechory would call it witchfire. Doctor Lowell, look. Her eyes. She's opening and closing them. Maybe she's trying to say something. Two, three, four times. Now, six, seven, eight, nine. She stopped. There, once again. A pulses weakening. Edith. Edith, my dearest. Fight. Edith. Edith. I'm sorry, my boy. She's gone. I know what nurse Walter's meant to you, Barthet. After all, it's been several weeks now and your work has been done. I'm going to find out what killed her. If necessary, I'll devote my life to it. It's obviously some new disease. Maybe some obscure tropical disease. I don't believe that, Doctor Lowell. Or even in the face of facts. What facts? You saw the answers I received from the letters I sent out to the doctors at the city? There have been nine other cases, all fatal. But the autopsy showed no reason in the world why both Peters and Edith shouldn't be alive this minute. Have you a theory, Doctor? Yes. I think it was murder. I said it before about Peters. Now I'm more than ever convinced of it. Of course you realize murder usually has a motive. Here's the list of the other victims. A banker, an acrobat, an 11-year-old child, a spinster, a man who... I know all that. What could these people have in common as a prior motive? A love for children. Come now. One was even a child. Even the banker supported a large orphan asylum. Edith adored her knees. And Peters, a gunman... A daughter. And it all proves a common interest. In what? In children. And children love dolls. Edith mentioned something about a doll woman. I've wracked my brain for days. It's the only clue I can find. But what doll woman? Where? You were convinced that Edith tried to signal you with her eyes before she died, weren't you? Yes, she blinked her eyes four times. Nine times and again once. In terms of the alphabet, D is the fourth letter. I, the ninth. A, the first. D-I-A. Is it the beginning of a name? An address? What? Well, does Diana suggest anything? No, no, no. Not Diana. What could mean diary? Diary? Diary, of course. What a fool I've been. Why didn't I ask you sooner? Hey, hey, where are you going? To Edith's apartment to find a diary and get to the bottom of this unholy business. Bob! I'll be back later. I tell you, you're barking up the wrong tree. Forget your wild ideas about murder and possessed wills. A microscope and test tube will give you the solution. Not this time, Dr. Lowell. Dr. Lowell speaking. What's that? Rechory's been stabbed. Very well, I'll be right down. The gang chief, Rechory, was stabbed just below the heart by a long, thin instrument. Dr. Lowell questioned Rechory's bodyguard, McCann. The man was frightened. He told a story of taking Rechory to a strange doll shop run by a grotesque old woman. Rechory came out of the shop carrying something under his coat. He got back into the car, McCann said, and then... All of a sudden I hear him suck in his breath. I feel his body tighten up and then he sags loose all over. You and Paul the driver were with him in the car. That's right, Doc. And neither of you stabbed? No. That means he must have stabbed himself. Is that what you want me to believe? I don't know. I'm all mixed up, Doc. I can't make it out. Where's Paul the driver? When a boss slumps over, I yell to Paul. As soon as he stops the car, the door flies open and something falls out into the street. What? The boss was carrying under his coat when he came out of his doll shop. It was dark. I couldn't see what it was. Paul jumped out after it. I grabbed the wheel and raced here. It's a pretty thin story, McCann. I wouldn't hurt the boss. You've got to believe that. I wouldn't hurt him, Doc. Oh, I... Mac, Mac, I got it. Paul, the boss didn't croak. He might pull through. Doc, this is Paul the driver. I got it. Here. This is what the boss had under his coat. It's a doll. Let me see that. Look at the face. Holy mother. Isn't that the face of Peter? The spitting image of Peter's. And what's this running down the back of its collar? Looks like a big hat pit. Oh, no, no. It's a sword. A tiny sword. And there's blood on it. Macquarie's blood. Holy mother in heaven. Dr. Braille, I'm glad you're here. What's happened? Julian Macquarie was stabbed. I know. I just spoke with him. He said he was stabbed by a doll. Nonsense. He was stabbed by this tiny sword. Yes, but how could the doll stab him? What's this? The doll. If you look closely at the face, you'll see it's the face of Peter's. That's what Edith meant when she said she saw Peter's before. She saw this doll. She saw the dollmaker when she all... when she went there. I found it all in her diary, Dr. Lowell. I cannot believe this doll stabbed, Macquarie. Your explanation, then. Well, I'm beginning to believe that maybe this doll woman is involved, but everything can be explained scientifically. I don't know. Post-hypnotic suggestion, perhaps. This doll woman might have hypnotized Macquarie to stab himself, but suggested he should think he was attacked by the doll. Completely unsound, Dr. Lowell. Experimentation has proven over and over again that no subject under hypnosis will commit any extreme act that he wouldn't commit normal. I know. Perhaps this woman has developed hypnosis beyond anything yet to... Dr. Lowell, what is it? What's wrong? Dr. Lowell! Dr. Lowell! Stop shaking me! Are you all right? Of course. You'd look this if you were in a trance. It's Las Trigas. Like the boss says, Las Trigas. I didn't tell Dr. Lowell, but during that moment of faintness, I'd heard a voice. A beautiful, low, exotic voice. And it said, Kill. Kill Macquarie. But I sat up with Macquarie, who had fallen into coma. Doc, Paul and me will be right outside the door. Anything happening here? No, no, no. Stay here. Okay, Doc. Now, listen, let me carefully, both of you, obey me in every detail. Macquarie's life depends on it. Okay, Doc. Shoot. Now, here's the important thing. Watch me closely. Watch you, Doc? Yes. If I should go to your chief, it would be to do one or three things only. Take his pulse. Listen to his heart and breathing. Take his temperature. If you see me, do anything else. Stop me. If I resist, tie me up. Then phone Dr. Braille here. Here's his number. There's everything understood. Yeah. Okay, Doc. Paul, I don't like it, but all right. Paul, will you switch off the ceiling light? The bed light will be enough. Yeah. Okay. Take out one of your sharp instruments and launch it. It's okay now, Doc. What happened? Plenty. You're about to take Macquarie's temperature with a knife. That's it. I couldn't argue any more. Hypnosis, telepathy, call her what you will. I believed in the witch now, and I knew that eventually I would destroy her or she would destroy me before leaving Macquarie's room because of some inexplicable compulsion. I took Macquarie's gun. Later, as I was preparing for bed, Dr. Braille came in impulsively and again as if compelled. I hid the gun in the drawer of my night table. I heard what happened, Dr. Lowell. We should notify the police. Police had left us. We have a solitary shred of evidence that this doll woman is behind this thing. You're right, of course. Tell me, how's Macquarie? His recovery's amazing. He's even walking about. I'm staying just outside your door. I'll rig myself up a cart. Why? I don't know. But after what's happened... I see. Will you turn out the light, please? Thank you. Good night. Good night. Remember, if you hear anything, call me. Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand moved it up toward my temple. Inwardly, I fought her again, my will, but still my hand moved up, up, up. And always there occurs a voice. Now the gun was at my head. My fingers slowly tightening on the trigger. I fought to stop it, fought to cry out. And then with one supreme effort, I screamed and directed the gun away. Dr. Lowell, are you all right? You want to destroy the witch, don't you? Well, we can't waste another minute to see if she dies or we die. I don't want to die that way. How's Dr. Braille? Better, he'll recover. Good. When we get there, Rokori, you, McCann and myself will go in. Have your other men and the other cars surround the place. Keep your gun handy, McCann. All right. McCann, go tell the boys to cover the place. Oh, here we are. Pick the lock, Rokori. Let me see. Yeah, this is easy. That does it. Quiet now. Good evening, gentlemen. Let's play. Good evening, gentlemen. I've been expecting you. Move aside, boss. Let me... I'll do this job myself. You'd like to kill me, Rokori? Short. I... I can't. Rokori, if I had them, say, don't look in her eyes. McCann and... Shoot, shoot! Drop your weapons. First, you, Rokori. Now you, McCann. So, you see, Dr. Lowell, I'm only a timid old woman. Very old, ages old. And with all the dark wisdom of the ages, no. Don't try to run. You can't. Because I've ruled it so. Pick up the gun, Dr. Lowell. That's right. Now... you will kill these men. Galea is Omnistuisa in Pate's Trace. What are you mumbling? Galea is Omnistuisa in Pate's Trace. Oh, let's see this. What are you saying? All Gaul is divided into three parts. I tried jingle from schoolboy Latin. I kept saying it over and over. Galea is Omnistuisa in Pate's Trace. As long as I said it, I knew I could keep my mind a blank. And she could not hypnotize me. Galea is Omnistuisa in Pate's Trace. I turned the gun on her. It was her life or the lives of all of us. Galea is Omnistuisa in Pate's Trace. You're pointing the gun at me. Galea is Omnistuisa in Pate's Trace. You cannot kill me. You're powerless. I will not. Stop. Oh, no. Oh, no. This trigger was dead. When falling, she had broken the lamp. In a moment, the place was in flames. I turned to Rikori. Rikori. Rikori, snap out of it. Ah, what is it? McKen. McKen. My gun. What happened to it? Look. The witch on the floor. She's dead. The joint's burning. Let's get out of here. Doc, doc, come on. But shouldn't we take her out of here? No, let her burn, too. It's better. Burn it all, Burn. This way. Come on. Burn, witch. Burn. Swings down the curtain of the Mystery Playhouse for the night. Burn Witch Burn was adapted for radio by Joel Hemmel. The music was composed and conducted by Alexander Semmer. Arnold Moss was featured in tonight's play. We'll keep until next time. This is PFCX reminding you to sleep tight. Goodbye. This is the Armed Forces Radio Service.