 That gun won't do you any good. Besides, you're pointing it the wrong way. I'm pointing it right between your eyes. That's what I mean. I... The witching hour when the night is darkest, our fear the strongest, and our strength at its lowest ebb. Midnight when the graves gape open and death strikes. How? You'll learn the answer in just a minute, then. Wherever I go. ... Murder at midnight. Tales of mystery and terror by Masters of the Macabre. Our story, a study in crime and retribution, is by William Moorwood. It's titled, Wherever I Go. The music room of an old country mansion. Seated at the piano, playing with the skill of an accomplished musician, is Gordon Ormsby. And grossed in what he is doing, he is not aware his wife, Ellen, has come in until... Goodness sakes, Gordon. What are you going to stop that pounding? What? I thought you enjoyed music, my dear. I do, when it's well-played. Oh, don't be childish. You might have a little consideration for my headache. You and your headaches. There's nothing whatever wrong with you. The doctors are as good as told you that. It's all in your mind. The afficitation of a silly rich woman. Lucky for you I am rich. Or where would you be now? Some place where I'd amount to something. I had talents when I married you, Ellen. I could have been a great musician, or a great painter, or a writer. You were what you are now. What you always will be. A dilettante, a dabbler. It's your money that ruined me, softened me up, brought me of my ambition. If you hate my money so much, there's nothing to prevent you walking out on it. I will someday. Not if I know you. You'll stick around as long as I have a penny left ahead. Oh, you poor, poor darling. I don't expect sympathy from you, but... Oh, when I feel like this, I could kill myself. Ha! That would be too much to hope for. Wouldn't it be nice for you, Gordon? Little me out of the way. And all my wicked money to spend exactly as you pleased. But don't worry. I'll live to a ripe old age. Just despite you. I'd never thought of it before. Her dying. Never. But after that, I couldn't get it out of my head. There was so much I could do with her money. I could go abroad, study. But first, I had to get rid of her. It was dangerous even to think about, but I conceived a plan and developed it carefully, slowly, step by step. Ellen, we've got rats in the cellar. I saw signs of them today. How awful. We must do something about it. Ellen, have you done anything about those rats? I ordered some stuff from the drugstore. Well, there's only one thing that's any good, and you'll have to get a prescription for that. Arsenic. Let's eat home on Thursday, Ellen. Oh, but it's a servant's night out, and we always go to a restaurant. I know, but I'm gonna try my hand at cooking up something. Well, it's sure to be poison, but... All right. We ate dinner at home on Thursday. The two of us alone together. Afterwards, Ellen complained of a headache and went up to her room. I followed a little later. This is a surprise. I brought you a cup of cocoa, my dear, to help put you to sleep. That's suspiciously thoughtful of you, Gordon. I'm afraid it's still too hot to drink. I'll put it down here. What, it's under your hand? Huh? It's all bandaged up. Oh, I scalded it in the kitchen. It's a nuisance, too. I wanted to write tonight. What are you working on now, Shakespeare? Your memoirs? No, dear. I don't expect to die for a while yet. No, it's a story about a girl suffering from an incurable disease who commits suicide. Sounds morbid to me. Oh, but it's not. I'm making it very tender and beautiful. As a matter of fact, I did mean to write the death scene tonight. With this hand, I'm... Say, Ellen, would you help me out? How? Well, I've got the girl's suicide note all set in my mind. I can't write with this hand. Would you write it down while I dictate it? Oh, do it yourself tomorrow. Oh, please. It'll only take a minute. Please. Oh, all right. Wear some paper. Yeah. But that's my very best stationery. I hate to waste it. It won't be wasted. Ready? Yes. There you go, sir. Good, sir. I can't stand the pain any longer. Nobody knows how much I've suffered. Death will be peaceful compared to this. Wait a minute. Why? What's wrong? You're going too fast. Death will be what? Peaceful compared to this. Forgive me for what I'm doing, but this is the only way out. Signed. Yes? Ellen. What? I named her that day because she reminded of me of you so noble in her suffering. I thought you'd be pleased. Well, I'm not. You'll have to think of some other name. Jane. Jane? You remember Jane Turner, the girl I was going with when I met you? I don't think she'd mind. But I would. There. It's signed Ellen. Thank you, my dear. You don't know how much this means to me. Oh, my head's licking. Oh, I'm sorry. Coco? Ah, drink it. That should end your headache. Drink it, Ellen. Tastes weird. Well, I couldn't find the sugar, so I sweetened it with maple syrup. Well, I don't suppose it'll kill me. Drink it all. Drink it all. There. What's the matter? Oh, there's something. Why are you? You won't be long now, Ellen. You mean you? You had arsenic you bought for the rats. You're mad. No, Ellen. Oh, no. You have left a note behind. It's a clear case of suicide. I was shaking all over. Yet my nerves had to be steady for what lay ahead of me. My own life depended on it. Music. That would relax me, the piano. I raced downstairs for the music room, but before I reached it, I heard the playing. It pushed open the door. The man was sitting there. A man I'd never seen before, but he was somehow vaguely familiar. Hello. Who are you? Don't you know? Of course not. What are you doing here? There was nobody at the piano. I didn't think you'd mind. Well, I do mind. How'd you get in? The door's locked. Is it? I didn't notice. Breaking and entering, huh? I've got a good mind to call the police. I'm sorry you're so suspicious. Still, I realize the strain you must be under. What do you mean by that? I'm afraid I'm interrupting you and business vital to both of us. I'll call again some other time. No, wait. You can't leave like this. At least tell me your name. I have many different names. When the time comes, you can call me by any one of them. Goodbye. I put the stranger out of my mind. Too much depended on the telephone call I had to make. A single slip up now, and a rope was waiting for me. I dialed with shaking fingers. Dr. Samson, this is Gordon Ormsby. You must come at once. Ellen is dead. I think she's taken poison. It worked out just as I'd planned, just as I'd hoped it would. The doctor's visit, the police, the inquest, no false moves, no suspicions. I became the sole inheritor of a large estate and a free man. I moved out of the old house and into a hotel suite in town. I don't know when it started to happen. I first knew that something was wrong. My fingers would no longer obey me at the piano. Nothing would come. Rather nothing but discards. I decided that my nerves were overstrained and I needed a rest. I figured a trip somewhere would do me good. I went to the telephone to order my car, brought around first thing in the morning. But before I picked up the receiver, yes? I'm going with you, Gordon. Who is this? Your friend. I'll see you first thing in the morning. But operator, you cut me off. I was making a very important call. I didn't wait. I couldn't. I packed that evening. I slipped a gun into my pocket. I left the hotel. By 11 o'clock, I was far out in the open country, driving west. The night was pitch black. Every mile, I burrowed further into the darkness. And suddenly, a terrible conviction came over me. I knew I wasn't alone. I'm coming up front now, Gordon. I said I was coming with you. When did you get in this car? I've been here right along. You drive well, Gordon. A cool head and a steady hand. But then you had to have them, didn't you? What does that mean? I was just thinking out loud. The money's nice, but music means a lot too, doesn't it? A pity that went sour on you. Look, I don't know who you are or what you're talking about. And yet you proved a point to Ellen. You proved that you were an artist in a way, even though she couldn't live to appreciate it. Her death was your masterpiece. The sweat stood out on my forehead. My mouth was dry. I didn't want it this way. One murder was enough to haunt me. But he left me with no alternative. He knew too much. Somewhere along that road. When the night was darkest, stranger. The mysterious stranger seems to know a great deal. Is it possible he knows even more than Gordon suspects about his plan for murder? Then you are story. I knew what I was looking for. A lonely stretch of road with no sign of life. I'd asked the headlights found it, a valley with trees growing down to the edge of the road. The stranger seemed to sleep. But he stirred as I jammed on the brakes. Must have a flat wheel feels funny. Would you mind having a look? That would be very unwise for me. Why? You have a gun in your pocket. I would make a perfect target out in the headlights. Since you're so suspicious. Here, take it. You amuse me, Gordon. However. How do they look? All right on this side. I'm sure it's one of the front tires. I'll see the other side. He was standing squarely in front of the radiator when I got him. Just to make sure I backed the car over his body. I dragged him across the ditch and into the woods. I dug a shallow grave with a tire iron, hacking in among the roots and the rocks. And then I covered him over. I got back into the car. I needed a drink. When I came to a juke joint along the highway, I stopped. What's yours, mister? Scotch, straight. You've been driving hard, mister? Why? You look all in. Give me another shot. No, no, wait. Look, I'll buy the bottle. Don't always want to sell. You know Scotch is hard to get around here. I'll pay for it. Took the bottle over to a booth and began to bring it away. I felt better, warm inside. It was going to be all right after all. The stranger was dead. And they'd never find his body. I was in the clear with nothing to worry about. There was something about that blind man's stick that got on my nerves. Came up to my table. Help the old blind man, please. Get away from here. Please, sir, if you'd be so kind. Will you get away? Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I don't want any favors from anyone. I said, beat it. I'm going, but you shouldn't have done that. What's going on here? What's the idea of shoving Nettie? He was annoying me. He... Then I saw him. He had the blind man by the elbow and was leading him toward the door. The stranger. What's the matter with you, mister? Who are you staring at? There. Don't you see him? Oh, Blind Ned? We're sure. No. The man with him, opening the door. There's nobody with him. Blind Ned don't need nobody. He's been going in and out of here by himself for years. But it was he. I knew it was. I'd killed him, buried him, and, well, was he dead or wasn't he? I had to know. I drove back up the road. There were the trees and the broken weeds and the ditch through which I'd dragged the body. I walked carefully among the leaves, searching for the grave. Hello there. What you doing? Who are you? State trooper. Saw your car parked down the road. Followed you in. Well, I'm looking for my watch. I lost it here this afternoon at a picnic. I didn't realize it until I got home. So, of course, I turned around. Sure, sure. I'll help you. Oh, no, please, don't bother. No bother. I got a flashlight here. Well, it's awfully nice of you, but I don't think it's... Hey, what's this? What? Where? Grounds all scraped up into a... looks like a grave. What would a grave be doing here? That's what I'd like to know. Give me a hand, will you? Fresh dirt and rocks digs easy. Well, I... What's the matter? Scared? Oh, no, no, no, it's just down to the bottom anyhow. Well, I'll be... What is it? It's a grave, all right. But if there was ever a body in it, it's gone now. I had only one idea after that, to get away. To get away as far away as possible. I drove like a wild man the rest of the night and all the next day, stopping only for gas. Finally, I just couldn't drive any farther. I stopped at a small hotel, went up to the desk to register. Sign here, please. I'm driving across country, and I've got to start first thing in the morning. Certainly, Mr... Arms be. Arms be, arms be. What time would you like to be called? A daylight. And another thing, I don't want to be disturbed under any circumstances. That's important. No matter who wants to see me on what excuse, I don't want to be disturbed. I understand, Mr. Arms be. Now, if you follow the point again... The elevator doors were just closing when I saw him. He'd come in from the street and was walking across the lobby to the desk. I reached my room, dismissed the bell hop, and locked the door. With a shaking hand, I picked up the telephone. This is Mr. Arms be. I thought I recognized a friend of mine in the lobby. A man about the same height and build as myself, not dressed in a gray suit. Well, he came in right after me. I haven't seen him in some time, and I've forgotten his name. Would you mind looking in the register and telling me what it is? I knew now there was no escape. I took the money from my billfold and piled it on the table. I examined my revolver to make sure it was loaded. Then I sat and waited. A few minutes before midnight, the lock came. Fact as if you were expecting me. I was. The only thing I'm not sure about is what you want. I'd rather how much. You should know. All the cash I've got is on the table. Nearly $500. Helen left you a good deal more than that. All right. I'll write you out a check. Name the amount. Everything you possess. What? You're crazy. Do you honestly think after the risks I took, the risks I'm still taking, I'd give everything away to a cheap blackmailer? Murder is an expensive hobby, Gordon. Well, not that expensive. If you want to be reasonable, say, $50,000... I'm afraid there's no compromise. And I'm not just talking about money. Listen, this is your last chance. $50,000 or... Or what, Gordon? Or you don't leave this room alive. You tried to kill me once before. Remember? No, I lost my head. The car only stunned you and I didn't make sure that you were dead. It'll be different this time. It's always going to be different, isn't it, Gordon? When you disposed of Ellen, you were going to lead such a rich, beautiful life. But what happened to it? Your music went. You couldn't play. Shut up. And then your heart went. You struck out at an old blind man. Listen, you... There isn't very much left now. Except your mind. And that's starting to go too. Sometimes you see me, sometimes you don't. I see you now, large as life. But you see this... That gun won't do you any good. Besides, you are pointing it the wrong way. I'm pointing it right between your eyes. That's what I mean. Well, you... He was gone. Yes, gone. Nowhere in the room. In a day's... Mechanically, I opened it. Anything wrong, mister? Why? Who are you? The house detective, I thought I... Oh, you must have seen him. He must have run past you in the corridor. Who? The stranger, the man who was in my room. Invited? Hey, be careful of that gun. I had to shoot him. He was threatening me. He was standing over there when I let him have it. Oh, yeah? What did he look like? He was about my height and build, wearing a gray suit. Like the one you were wearing? Huh? Oh. Oh, yes. I thought so. Look. At what? The mirror. You shot at your own reflection. You mean... Now do you know who I am, Gordon? There, didn't you hear him? Hear what? What are you talking about? No, no. No, you wouldn't hear. Only I would. Now I do know who and what he is. I know why I couldn't escape him. Here. Here, take this gun. I want to give myself up. Give yourself up? My name is Gordon Ormsby. I killed my wife. I poisoned her. I made it look like suicide. And there never was any crime. Oh. I get it. Sure, sure. It was a perfect crime. At least I thought it was a perfect crime until he came into the picture. Now don't you worry about it one bit, Mr. Ormsby. You just come along with me. Wait a minute. You think I'm making it up. I'm crazy, don't you? No, no. But it's true. Every word of it. Sure, I got a good friend who's a doctor. You tell him all about that. Doctor? No. No, he won't believe me. Either nobody will believe me. They'll all think that I'm mad. That's why I have to give myself up. Because that's the only way I can get away from him if you hang me. But if you don't... They won't, Gordon. They'll put you away. And wherever you go, I'll be there too. Remember that? Wherever you go... Firmly by the arm, the detective leads the struggling Gordon out into the corridor. A corridor that grows darker and darker until it is completely black. Somewhere in that blackness, a voice is whispering. And it continues to whisper until it is drowned by a clock striking 12-4. Murders midnight. Remember to be with us again when death whispers softly in the night. And the clocks strike 12-4. Murder. He was played by Barry Kroger. With music by Charles Paul, murder at midnight was directed by Anton M. Leeder. Anton M. Leeder.