 Good evening, friend. It is your hope to welcome you through the creaking door into the innermost hangar. Come in. Come in and pull up a tombstone. The cheer situation is very grave here. Ha ha ha ha. Oh, don't worry if it feels a little dark in here too. I've made arrangements with a few ghostly forms to come and glow. Ha ha ha ha. By the way, don't mind that guy in the back over there. We scared him to death last week. He's been horror-zondle ever since. Ha ha ha ha ha. Tonight's inner sanctum mystery, Death Watch in Boston, was written by Fred Mathal and stars Mason Adams in the role of Carl with Ted Osborne as Sharon. In Boston, Beacon Hill looks down its narrow brick-lined streets with seeming scorn at the harbor below. Tonight the wind is from the sea and there is a mist that's heavy with the odor of fresh fish, salts and spices. Tonight too, there is a man who has a horrifying secret to tell. This man is Carl Dickens, intern from the nearby hospital who walks wildly, coat-flapping hair to shovel. Young, his body is, his eyes are all, his face haggard. He carries a heavy wooden box about 12 inches square, his murmuring through bloodless lips. Take thy beak from out my heart and take thy form from off my door, close to raven, nevermore, nevermore. A neon sign proclaims the door to be that of Captain Zeb's tattoo salon, established 1905. Carl Dickens stops, looks quickly behind him and enters. Greetings, man. Captain Zeb. Yes, I'm making it to no more tattooing tonight. Captain Zeb, lock the door. Hmm? Hold on, there. Lock this door, you know me, I'm Carl Dickens. Hey, Thunder, who you be? What hands you that? Lock the door quick, then put out your lights, please. Sure, sure. Tastes to me like your one doctor needs a doctor. No, Zeb, I don't need a doctor. I need someone like you to listen to me. All right, I'll listen. What you got in the box? It's part of a man's body, his head. Hmm, and a sort of specimen, like, were you medically wed, bedded? No, Captain. It's the head of a man who is calling for me at my room at 11 o'clock tonight. What, Jack? Don't look at me like that, I'm not crazy, Captain. You've been working a night too hard over them books, maybe, huh? I have been working hard, yes, but this is no hallucination. Don't go around with believing a man can live with about a head, son. You don't understand. The man this head belongs to is death. And it is death who is coming for me tonight. You did tell me the whole thing, son. Maybe I can help after all. Will you come with me to my place after I tell you the story? Will you wait up with me till he comes, Captain? Will you? I can help you, son. You know my place on Pinkney Street on the hill. It's narrow and cramped with century-old houses. I've got rooms on the second floor of one place, 29 Pinkney. I've been there two years since I first went to the hospital. In my living room, there's a bay window that juts out over the sidewalk below. That's where my desk is. Two weeks ago tonight, it was. I had fallen asleep over my books. Something at the window woke me with a starter tapping noise. I went to the window and stayed. Perched there was a bird. A bird as black as the night itself. I opened the window. And instead of flying away, the bird hopped upon my desk and stood with head cocked to one side of my open book. By now, I knew I wasn't dreaming. I spoke to the creature as you might have. Hey, isn't it late for a bird to be around? I stared open-mouthed at the open window through which the creature disappeared. Then I smiled, realizing that it must be a pet, a minor bird perhaps. I went to bed then, thinking of an amusing coincidence that the bird had been taught to say it's late and that I had referred to the hour myself. That's what I thought then. Until two nights later. That's when I met the stranger for the first time. You see, Captain, I have a bad heart myself and I'd worked very hard to save a patient who had a heart ailment the same rather rare heart condition I have. By ten Wednesday night, I felt certain she pulled through. Just as I was going off duty my nightmares hurried to me. Doctor. Dr. Dickens. Yes? Doctor the girl in 14. Well, no. Are you trying to say she died? I'm sorry, Doctor. But I can't believe it. I did everything that could be done and it looked certain. Are you positive? Yes, I am. Dr. Smith just confirmed it. Oh, Doctor, you worked so hard on that case. You're worn out. Why don't you go home and rest? I said, Doctor, what's wrong with you? What are you staring at? You were looking toward the window just now, as I was weren't you? Yes, yes. I think so. Why? Didn't you see something black fly past to the bird? No. Doctor, you look awful pale. Can I get you something? No. No. I guess I'm tired, huh? I'll go for a little walk and then straight to bed. He was waiting for me when I left the hospital. And I would have walked straight past him, but he spoke to me. Dr. Dickens. Yes? May I speak with you? How'd you know my name? Gabriel told me. Gabriel? Yes? This is Gabriel. I think you've met... Oh, that's good. Say, isn't that the bird that knocked on my window a couple of nights ago? Yes. We were out walking and Gabriel flew to your window. I see that you were very depressed. Can I help in any way, Dr. Dickens? No, no, thanks. Patient died, always gets me down. Oh, and so needlessly, too. What do you mean, needlessly? You will understand soon, Doctor. Life and death are matters arranged elsewhere. Had it been so desired, your patient would have lived. Who are you? What's your name? I don't think you said... It is Charon. C-H-A-R-O-N. Charon. Oh, Mr. Charon, if I believed what you say, I would have to give up medicine. Not at all. Everyone has a mission to perform. And should... And what is your mission in life, Mr. Charon? What is that? What is our mission in life, Gabriel? Hmm? Speak up. That was the first time I met the man who caused himself Charon. I asked for a couple of weeks off at the hospital. I thought... Well, I thought it might be nerves. I stayed home and read detective stories. I was beginning to feel like my old self again, and on Sunday night, sometime around nine, I decided to turn in when there came more tapping on my window. This time I grinned. Wow, well, Gabriel, come right in. It's later than I think, Orc. Is that all you can say, Gabriel? Passage from Poe's poem, The Raven. At the same time, I felt a sudden chill in the room, sensed someone in the room, yet I had heard nothing. But I knew. I knew. He also knows a bit of peeps and shelly, Doc. How the devil did you get in here, Charon? Your door was not locked. Tell me, Dr. Dickens, are you afraid of death? No more than most people. But I'd rather not die if it's all the same to you. I'd hope you might think differently than others. At any rate, I have nothing to do with it. As I said to you before, Doctor, these matters are arranged elsewhere. Where? Elsewhere. You're trying to tell me that you can predict death. Is that it, Charon? Of course. I'd like proof. Will you accept full responsibility for the knowledge? Sure. Give me a moment. As I stood watching him tall and black against the white door of my room, it seemed to me he had turned himself inward, and that the living part of him had stepped away, leaving only a gaunt shell. There was no life in him, only the eyes staring. You will remember the name of Emily Cartier. Her passage has been arranged for her. Good night, Dr. Dickon. After he left, Captain, I walked straight to the phone to call the police. I tried to think of how my story would sound to them, not stop me for the moment. But I did look up the name Charon had quoted. It was in the phone book, Miss Emily Cartier. Her home was close by in Louisburg Square. I called her at once. Is this Miss Cartier, Miss Emily Cartier? Oh, yes. You don't know me, Miss Cartier. My name is Dickon. I met someone who claims to know you well. A man named Charon. Are you sure? Hey, what is this, Miss Cartier? But I knew what had happened. I knew all too well. Emily Cartier's passage had been arranged for her. Very distinctive character, this Charon, don't you think? Pick him out in a shroud anywhere. Yes. Signs all his mail, eternally yours. Well, shall we get back behind the locked doors of Captain Zeb's tattoo salon? Now put yourself in Zeb's place. If a young wild-eyed fella came to you with a wooden box, told you it contained the head of a man who was calling for him at 11 o'clock that night, what would you do? You'd listen, wouldn't you? Well, listen. Hold up now, lad. Let me get the straight line of this. This man, you think it was sort of death and mortal shape. Him and his bird. They told you they could tell when the body was going to die before? Yes. And to prove it, Charon gave me the name of the woman in Louisburg Square, Emily Cartier. She was murdered while I talked with her on the phone. And it's simple that the man was mad. A murderer. He killed her. Did he? I thought that. I went to Louisburg Square after the call. I was determined to tell the first policeman I met the whole story. When I arrived at Emily Cartier's address, the place was teeming with excited people. Also, on the fringe of the crowd beneath the single streetland, the tall, gone shape of Charon stood. I went straight to him. Mr. Charon, Mr. Charon, I'm turning you over to the police. Oh, Mr. Dickens. Why? Why? Because I know you'll kill this woman. So? Come with me. I will speak to the police for you. You don't dare. Come. All right, all right, all right. Come on, folks. Go on, folks. Go to bed. Will you please? Officer. What do you want? Officer, my friend and I are a little alarmed about this tragedy. Why? Well, we live nearby, you see. Don't give it a thought now. We got the guy who did it. You caught the murder? Sure. One of the neighbors shot him through the head while he was clamming out the window. Now go on home and forget it, if you can. Well, Carl, I wish you would leave me alone. Oh, that is not possible. One way or another, you must come away with me when I leave. I refuse to believe it. Suppose I prove my point again. Suppose I tell you the name of someone else who will die. If I am right, you will raise no more objections to leaving with me. And if your prediction doesn't work out? You will never see me again. Agreed. Agreed. Very well. April, our friend would like to know who do you know is next to go? Oh, Simeon Black, between 8 and 8.30 on the night of November 15th. That is a week from tonight. All right, fine. If Simeon Black doesn't die then, I will never hear from you again. That is correct. If Simeon Black dies, as I know, it is arranged that he will. You will come away with me on the same night at 11. Good night, Carl. Good night, friend. November 15th. It's tonight, isn't it? Yes, Captain Zeb, that's tonight. And what about Simeon Black, land? There's bargain you made now. I found Simeon Black. I found him this evening. It was a seamen. The Docs gave me his address, a cheap rooming house near the Charles River. The ship was due in at 7. Simeon Black had to live. I stood outside his rooming house waiting. About five minutes after I ate a big burly rough man came along, heading for the doorway where I stood. He was carrying this box. Simeon Black with 25 minutes to live. Are you Simeon Black? Yeah. It's very important that I talk with you. Yeah, why? Who are you? My name is Dickens. This is urgent. Please listen. I'm listening. Go ahead. Do you know anyone who might want to do you harm? You crazy mister. Sure I do. A couple of hundred guys all around the world. But you ain't one of them. Where are you? No, no, no, I'm not. But I talked to the man who said you were going to die between now and 8.30. That's why I'm here. Who? A man named Sharon. A man who has a pet minor bird that talks. Yeah? I think we better go up to my room and talk, Chum. Come on. In his room I told him all about Sharon and the bird. It was a large clock on the steeple of a nearby dock house. I saw that the minute hand stood at 25 after 8 when I finished. Black stood up his heavy face and our pasty pale, the veins of his neck, throbbed. So you're the guy I've been waiting for. All right, Dickens. I met the man with the white mountain ache. He told me to ask him to have me killed. He sent you. But I'm not playing. I don't die easy, see? This thing says I don't. You fool, put that gun down. Killing me won't help. All we have to do is wait till the time has passed three more minutes. Sit down. Not then, Joe, and you're gonna... Give me that gun, you stupid fool. Give it a... I stood there gaping at the floor. The hulk that had been Simeon Black was crumpled grotesquely on the bareboards of the room. His denim shirt staining darker and darker as I watched it. Through my fogged mind, I heard the clock strike the half hour outside. Simeon Black had died as Charon had predicted. But I had killed him. The gun was still in my hand as the door opened and Charon. Tall, gaunt, lips smiling, I smotering Black stood there. You see, Carl? I've kept my bargain. Simeon Black is dead. You made me do this. You played me against Black. You knew something like this had happened. Carl, when are you going to understand? Yes, I knew. But these things are arraigned by you, of course. I made a bargain with you. Yes, you did, Carl. I will call for you at eleven. We will leave together now. No. You are leaving now, Charon. No! For a moment I thought I hadn't hit him. He stood there without a tremor. Done from his thin, colorless lips. A trickle of blood coursed down his chin. I can't tell you the triumph of the moment. The days of supernatural fantastic horror seem to run out of me. The sight of his blood told me this man was in death. This was a clever man who had somehow used me. Everything seemed right again in the world. No matter what happened to me, no matter what. That's your story, Ned? All of it? Not quite, Captain Zapp. As I regained my senses and saw him there, still smiling mirthlessly on the floor besides Simeon Black, I had an impulse to be certain that he wouldn't come back to me. I found a knife in Black's kitchen net. I suppose I still wasn't thinking clearly. Stupidly, I thought perhaps even a supernatural being divested of its head might be powerless. Now I know better. So you told her the top of him here from the waterfront in Simeon's duffer box? Yes. And as I walked to you, I began to realize Sharon will keep his end of the bargain. That's the story, Captain. And it puts me on the spotlight. I know. You want to call the police? Should you know? But you did promise to come to my place and wait till after 11 anyhow. I did? It's 15 over 11 hours, Ed. I'll go along with you. Go ahead. What time is it, Zapp? Most 11. But I tell you again, Ned, ain't nothing gonna happen now. But I... I feel it. Sort of a chill. A tight, scared feeling about my heart. I know Sharon is coming for me. I feel it. Ah, shh. Listen, Zapp, listen. It's death coming. I feel it in my heart. Yeah, sure, but... All right. Carl. Carl. What's up? Come in, hang it. Come in. Dickens? Carl Dickens? That's him near, officer. What's wrong with him? Well... you can believe it or not. I was just talking to the bad when he popped, sir. Turned blue in the face and just... stopped talking. He's dead. Oh, sir. But how? From the look of him, I'd say heart case. I have to wait for the car now. Now, the queer things you come across in this business? Queer? How come you to be here? Just at 11. That's a queer one to me. Well, we got a stiff without a head down at the waterfront a couple hours back. Found a diary on him and we've been checking up. Who was it? A guy named Charon. Was let out of Devil's Island when they closed it up a couple years back. According to the diary, he's been out to get everybody ever had anything to do with his being sent up. A nut? Must have been a smart one. He names three people he wanted to get rid of. Played one against the other, I guess. But who? Who killed him? I don't know. Sergeant's working on it. All I know is in this character's book there's a note says C. Carl Dickens. Pinkney Street, 11 o'clock, November 15. What? What the devil was that? It's just the bird here. Minor bird. Tox. These twigs. I think it's a bird. My, my. You'd better see the head man's ass. You know, one thing to learn about all this is you should never lose your head in a crisis. Or you shouldn't lose your head anywhere, for that matter. Hmm. Oh yes, just a bit of advice, folks. If some bird comes up to you and says it's late, you agree with them and call the zoo right away. It's probably a minor bird and minors should be there. And minors should be in bed when it's late. Intersanctum came to you through the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education.