 Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup present Inner Sanctum Mysteries. Dear friend, this is your host of the Inner Sanctum, welcoming you to another half hour of mystery and terror. Guaranteed to take ten years off your life. Don't just stand there. Come on in. We've been fixing up the place, making it more homey. You see that beam over there with the rope hanging down? You just stand on the table, put your head through the noose, and... that's right. It's for the convenience of anyone who feels like hanging around after the broadcast. I wish you wouldn't say things like that. Oh, you're right, Mary. I'm a bad host. Here, I invite everybody to hang around, and there's only one rope. I guess we'll have to hang together instead of hanging separately. Unless, of course, we want to hang ourselves with a black ribbon that comes with that Lipton Sterling Silver Medallion. We've got plenty of them, haven't we, Mary? Well, I don't know. Thousands of women are writing in every day for that special Sterling Silver Medallion. So I'd advise all of you ladies who want to own one to send in for it tonight. Yes, they're going mighty fast, because this medallion is made of solid Sterling Silver, and it's decorated with the Chinese symbol for good luck. The medallion is just the right size, too, about an inch in diameter. You can wear it as a necklace or a choker, because it's hung on a narrow black ray on satin ribbon. Or if you wish, you can simply add it to your charm bracelet. And here's how you get this handsome medallion. Listen, just send 25 cents and the box top from a package of Lipton's, the tea with the brisk flavor, to Lipton Tea Box 92. That's Box 92, New York City. All right, Mary, I write down the address on the cuff of my shroud. And our friends tell me, do you like holidays? Well, you won't after you hear tonight's story. It's called Dead Men's Holiday, and it's an original radio play by that scriptic mystic, Robert Sloan. Yes, and our star tonight is Myron McCormick, who plays the role of Eric. Not far from the waterfront. In a gloomy shack where death power's near, the man stirs uneasily on a blood-stained cut. As he struggles for the last breaths of life, his tortured mind forces words to his lips. They... they don't have to tell me. I know I can't live more than a little while longer, and I don't want to live. I want this nightmare to end, as it should have ended long before that day I was hurt on the train, sitting in a coach, looking out the window, and then suddenly the train shuddered to a violent start. The door looked to be clear out of my seat and threw me against the glass window, which broke as I hit it. For a moment, I was stunned. But in the back of my mind, I could hear the conductor quietly in the passenger. It's all right. It's all right, please. It's all right, I tell you. Nothing serious has happened. He's stuck an empty car on the grade crossing. The engineer had a jam on the brakes. Anybody hurt? Anybody need a doctor around here? The conductor was coming down the aisle, questioning passengers, looking them over. My head was clear now. Quickly I thought of my wife in the seat next to mine. I turned to see if she'd been injured. But there in the seat which she had occupied was a man I'd never seen before. He spoke to me. You all right? Yes, I was shaken up a bit, but I'm all right. You've got anasty cut on your lip. All right. I guess it was a glass. Excuse me, please. What's the matter? My wife. I was looking for my wife. She was sitting right next to me. She's gone, conductor. She's gone. No, no, no. Don't get excited. She was sitting right next to me, right where this man is sitting now. You must be mistaken. Why? There wasn't any woman sitting next to you. What are you trying to tell me? My wife was sitting in that seat. All right, all right, sir. If she's on the train, we'll find her. In the meantime, you've got to come with me and have that lip of yours attempted. You're just a little dazed, that's all. Your wife isn't on this train. That's a lie. Why would I want to lie to you? I don't know what your reason is, but you're trying to hide something from me. I'm willing to swear you bought this train alone. How do you know that? Because I've been sitting next to you ever since you got on. I'm taken to a hospital. I'm given an anesthetic. When I came to, a doctor was standing over me. He said I was old enough to get dressed and leave, but when I mentioned the disappearance of my wife, he acted strange. You had a severe shock, Mr. Keating, and sometimes an accident like this has a way of playing tricks on the mind. You don't believe that my wife was on that train? I don't see how she could have been. Any number of the passengers were questioned. They all told the same story. You got on the train alone. So you're in on it, too. I beg your pardon. You're on the railroad, and the man who was sitting next to me, you're all in on it. What are you trying to do to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Don't you? Are you sure this isn't some kind of a plot to try and drive me out of my mind? I think you need a rest, Mr. Keating. Just look at yourself for the mirror there. You see how drawn you are? I'm all right. What's the matter? My face. What have you done to me? What's happened to my face? Why, nothing. I had to put a few stitches in your lip. It's not my lip. It's my whole face. Why, you've done something to it different. Mr. Keating. Ideas, I tell you, you've changed my face. I went straight to my house on Pine Street. I had no keys, so I rang the bell, hoping against hope my wife would be there to answer it. But when the door opened, face to face with a gone, middle-aged woman I'd never seen before. Yes? Who are you? I beg your pardon. Come on, answer me. Who are you? I'm the housekeeper. Don't lie to me. We don't have a housekeeper. What are you doing here? I don't see why I should answer your question. You'd better answer them. I'm Mr. Keating. Who? Mr. Keating, I live here. Where's Mrs. Keating? What have you done with her? You must have the wrong address. What do you mean? Nobody but the name of Keating lives here. What? I work for Mr. and Mrs. Drury. Don't you see the name plate on the door? Yes, I see it. When did you put it there last night? You got the wrong address, Mr. Keating. I have it. You see that picture over there? The one on the hall table? Yes. That's a picture of my wife. I beg your pardon, sir. But that's a picture of Mrs. Drury. Drury. I didn't know anybody by the name of Drury. I couldn't imagine why he or anybody else would go to so much trouble to keep me from my wife. I walked down to the corner drugstore to phone the police. But just as I got there, a car drove up and stopped. And it was the man who sat next to me on the train. I hurried over to speak to him. You remember me? Well, yes, of course. Did you find your wife? No. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Can I be of any assistance to you? I work for the railroad, you know. Miss, I had a feeling you did. What's your name? Drury. Drury? Ah, you live at the White House around the corner? The one on Pine Street? That's right. How did you know? I was just over there. I thought it belonged to a man named Keating. Well, it did originally. You knew him? You knew him? Yes. Why do you speak in the past tense? You sound as if the man were dead. Well, didn't you know? He is dead. You can't imagine what it was like to have him tell me that Eric Keating was dead. I was Eric Keating. I hurried away from him. Kept walking toward the center of town. But it wasn't long before I realized that I was being followed by a man in a grey hat. I waited until he caught up with me. Then, as he started to pass, I stopped him purposely to get a good look at his face. Excuse me. Yes? Can I trouble you for a match? Certainly. Thanks. Isn't it? Wait a minute. Why are you following me? Who says I am? It's pretty obvious. Now, you'd better tell me what your game is or I'll call a cop. That wouldn't do much good, mister. I'm on the force. What? St. Clausman. Carnus is the name. I don't understand. Why are you watching me? That's my business watching people. Your face looked kind of familiar to me. What's your name? Eric Keating. Say again, mister. You better tell me the truth this time. I am telling you the truth. Why don't you believe me? Because I happen to know where Eric Keating is right now. I saw his grave just the other day. His grave? Yes. He's buried in the same cemetery as my sister. Been buried for six years. I had a feeling that Carnus was lying. When he let me go a moment later, without proving my identity, I could have sworn he wasn't a detective. But I had to make sure. I had to catch him in a lie. I took a bus up to the cemetery. It was dark at the time I got there. I had a flashlight. And with it, I saw the very thing I hoped I wouldn't find. A tombstone with my name on it. The shock was like a blinding light in the darkness. And for a moment, I lost my senses. Insanely, I dug into the earth with a piece of sharp stone. Determined to see the empty coffin. Or the bones of the man who had been buried in my place. What are you doing, mister? Carnus. You better come with me, mister. Killed a man, maybe? What? Look at this police circular. That's right. The picture underneath those words is yours or your twin brother's? No, I'm not this man. I may look like his picture, but I'm not the man. Your fingerprints have settled that. We've got his on the circular. Now we've got to get yours. Any objections? Yeah. I won't go with you. There's a case of being wanted for murder, dead or alive. And this guy, Keating, seems to fit both conditions very well. We'd hate to see him get killed though. It'd be like killing two birds with one stone. I'm really sorry for that poor man. He's so confused. I should say so, Mary. Imagine digging up a grave and finding yourself in it. Well, that proves that a man can be two places at the same time. Nonsense. That's impossible. But you know, as far as killing two birds with one stone is concerned, that's easy. Any lady can do that just by sending in for the Lipton sterling silver medallion. What? Yes. You see, this sterling silver medallion is not only lovely, but it's a very useful piece of jewelry as well. It's just the thing to brighten up a simple silk dress or a dressy suit. And it can be worn as a necklace or a choker, or simply by removing the narrow black ray on satin ribbon on which it's hung, you can add it to your charm bracelet. And the medallion makes such a smart appearance. It's made of real sterling silver, and it's decorated with the Chinese characters that stand for good luck. So you might say the medallion is a Chinese good luck charm. And best of all, ladies, the Lipton people are making it easy for you to own one of these handsome medallions. All you have to do is send 25 cents and the box top from a package of Lipton's, the tea with the brisk flavor, to Lipton Tea, box 92. That's box 92, New York City. Well, Mary, if the medallion really brings good luck, I hope our friend Eric Keating sends for one because he's going to need it. When we left him, he was telling us how a detective named Connors was about to arrest him for murder. Eric resisted and they struggled at the cemetery. Connors fired a shot. A bullet went through my left arm before I could reach Connors with the stone I had in my hand. I pounded it against his temple. He dropped to the ground, unconscious. And I ran as fast as I could, holding one arm with the other, losing blood all the time. Somehow, I got away. I was exhausted by the time I staggered into the doctor. Well, I guess you'll be all right now, Mr. Keating. Thank you, Doctor. Tell me, how did you happen to get this wound? I... I... I was carrying a jar, and I fell. You'd better not lie to me, Mr. Keating. The bullet was still in your arm. Who shot you? I... I don't know his name. I don't have a great deal if you did. I have to report this, you know. So you'd better tell me the truth. I will in a moment, Doctor, but... First, I'd like to ask you a favor. What is it? Do you know anything about fingerprints? No, not a great deal. Well, you must know something. Here, take a look at the ones on the circular. Why is the circular torn in half? I don't mind about that. Just look at the fingerprints. Now, look at the ones on my hand. Would you say they belong to the same man? Unquestionably. Of course, I'm not an expert. No, neither am I. But I can see that those are my fingerprints, all right. Somebody's done a perfect job of framing me. Either that, or I am a murderer. Mr. Keating, suppose I just report my work to the police and let it go at that. I can't let it go at that. Don't you understand? I've been framed every possible way. And if I let it go, I'll be sent to the chair. No, no, not if you're innocent. I can't take the chance. I reached with a paper weight on his desk, and then... Keating, put that down! On the side of the head, his body dropped to the floor and I bent over him. My heart was pounding against my chest. Something in the back of my mind kept driving me on. A voice kept saying, kill him. You're a murderer, kill him. I don't know why, but I struck him again. And again. And again. Until his lifeless body choked out its last breath. And then... I knew I was a murderer. Right away in the darkness, took a bus to a neighboring town. I had a room in a boarding house. I stayed there three days, hiding. Not going out on the street. Then, on the fourth day, the landlady paid me a visit. You'll have to get out of here. I can't take a chance at having you around anymore. Killing that doctor. Weren't you in enough trouble already? Shut up, I gotta think. You've got to get out of here. I'll be searching this place before you know it. Why? Because you were here before. I never should have let you come back. Now get your coat and beat it. Where'll I go? Take it easy. I never let anybody down yet. Here. This is the address of a shack I own over near the waterfront. You can hide out there for a while. Any food in that shack? Never mind about that. I'll get in touch with Ruth and tell her where you are. Ruth? Yes, go on now. Get out of here before it's too late. I waited in the shack for two days before this girl, Ruth, showed up. When she did get there, the first thing she said was, Gosh, you look terrible. Yeah, I know. I've been through a lot. Well, stop working on these groceries. You must be starving. Thanks, I am. I never thought I'd see you again. Huh? Why'd you do it? I couldn't help myself. He was going to turn me over to the police. I don't mean the doctor. I mean Richie. Oh? Richie? What are you looking at me like that for? I... I'm just trying to think. You should have done something before you buried his body where you did. They found it the next day. Stop it. Stop it. Will you? I'm going out of my mind. What's the matter? Richie rules, jewelry, the landlady. What is it going to stop? Hey, take it easy. I've got to get out of here. I've got to get out of here right now. Don't be crazy. You'll get caught. I don't care if you've got a car. Yeah, but... Come on. Let go of me. Let go of your head. Come on. Where? Where do you want to go? Back to my house. I've got to find my wife. In the dark, we drove to my house on Pirant Street. Ruth waited for me in the cars. I sneaked into the garage and came up through the cellar entrance. The house was dark. Except for a light in the study. My wife was sitting there alone, reading a book. I tried not to frighten her. Eleanor. Eleanor. Is that you, George? No, dear. It's Eric. Good, Aaron. Do you recognize me, Eleanor? No. Got to make you understand. I'm your husband, Eric. You're insane. Eric is dead. No, no. You mustn't believe what they've been telling you. It's all part of a scheme I can't understand, but they're against us, Eleanor. They're trying to keep us apart. Eric is dead. Don't say that, Eleanor. He died six years ago. And you're in on it, too. You want it this way. What do you mean? You and Drury want to be together. That's why you framed me. George Drury is my husband. Is he? Yes, we've been married for three years. You can't get away with us, Eleanor. I won't let you... Help me! I tied her to a chair and gagged her so that she couldn't scream or call the police. Then I left the house and got back into the car with Ruth. We waited there about ten minutes. And then I saw the man I'd been waiting for. George Drury was walking down the far side of the street on the sidewalk. And I knew he'd have to cross over to get to the house. So I started the car. What are you doing? Getting ready. He's got to cross the street. He's got to. What are you going to do? Run him over. No! Let go of me, you fool! I'm going now! No! Please! No! Pick up the body. There we are. Had a long ride that night. Ruth, George Drury's body and myself. Automatically, I seemed to know where I was heading. Even though I had no destination in my mind, I made one turn after another unconsciously almost until last I came to a dark stretch of road along a railroad track. I stopped the car. I think you're a douche. Don't ask any questions. I'm burying the body here. Are you crazy? Why? Don't his place look familiar to you? Yes, I think it does. Can't remember why. You lost your mind completely. Will you stop talking like that and tell me what's wrong with this place? Why can't I bury the body here? Because it's the same place you buried Richie. Richie, Richie, Richie. Who is Richie? Why am I wanted for his murder? You're wanted because you killed him in cold blood just the way you killed Drury. Only Richie was your partner. You pulled all your jobs together. It couldn't have been me, Ruth. Not me. I didn't know Richie. I'm Eric Keating. Is that your real name? You never told me the real one. But what's that? Sounds like... Yeah, it's the police. Quick, we've got to get out of here. We left Drury's body near the railroad track and drove back to the hideout on the waterfront. But Ruth didn't let me earlier in the evening. I began to sew the threads of a horrible story which had been my life for the past six years. The first time I saw you was about five years ago. I looked as I looked now. Yeah, more or less. You just had a plastic surgery job done. You told me it was because your face was burned, only I didn't believe you. Yes, that was true. My face was burned, badly. How? Yes, I am beginning to remember. A railroad accident just about six years ago, the car I was in caught fire. I struck my head trying to climb out of a window. You mean you lost your memory from that blow? I must have. I must have wandered away from the scene of the wreck, not knowing who I was. And you began a new life of people like Richie, huh? Yes. I began to steal. But your wife and the railroad company give you up as dead? I can understand that. There were charred bodies in that wreck, charred beyond recognition. When I didn't show up, they must have listed me as one of them and buried in other man's remains in my place. I wish it had been me. Oh, Eric, that's awful. All the while you were suffering from amnesia, your wife thought you were dead. I didn't believe her once she said she'd married this fellow Drury. Oh. Funny how I sat next to him on the train that day. The jolt sent my mind back six years. And I thought I was Eric Keating, coming home from a trip with my wife. Who's there? I've got this face around. You better do what he says, Eric. What for? Why prolong the agony any more than I have to? Don't call me Eric. Eric Keating is dead. Now, let this other man die the way he should have died. Eric, don't be a fool. You can't get out of that. When did the cops got it? No, it rules. I know it. This time they'll give him a grave he can call his own. I just hope he stays put this time instead of wandering as a ghost. A guy like that might not remember where he was buried. I'm glad he's finally at rest now. Oh, don't be so sure, Mary. That guy needs a tag on him. Maybe you ought to send him one of those sterling silver medallions. Yes, and we'll get all his aliases engraved on it too, so the other ghosts will know who he is. Don't be silly. There aren't any ghosts. And besides, that sterling silver medallion has just one purpose. It's simply a lovely piece of jewelry that the ladies will enjoy wearing. And ladies, to get the medallion, all you have to do is send 25 cents and the box top from a package of Lipton's, the tea with the brisk flavor, to Lipton Tea Box 92, New York City. Well, it's time now to button up my shroud and start combing the catacomb. If you insist on a moral for tonight's story, try this. The evil that men do doesn't always live after them. Sometimes it catches up with them. Oh, by the way, this month in a Sanctum mystery novel is Lay That Pistol Down by Richard Powell. And oh, yes, next week's in a Sanctum story directed by Hyman Brown and brought to you by Lipton Tea and Lipton Soup. Next week's story's a real chiller to her. It's about a man who owes a debt to society and he tries to pay it in blood. Only to discover that in so doing, he has to pay a stiff price. Now it's time to close the squeaking door. Oh, good night. Pleasant dream? Here's a modern food with an old-fashioned homemade flavor. It's Lipton's noodle soup. And now, especially when the weather's so warm, try serving Lipton's as the one hot dish in a cold meal. Your family will love Lipton's famous chickeny taste. Yes, it tastes just like the chicken noodle soup you make right in your own kitchen. And Lipton's has got the same good herbs and flavorings too, the same tender golden egg noodles. But listen, Lipton's noodle soup comes in an envelope and it only takes a few minutes to prepare. Of course, sometimes it's hard to get in some stores these days, but there's lots of good things scarce in wartime. So remember to ask for Lipton's noodle soup. And remember to tune in next Tuesday night for another inner sanctum mystery. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.