A strange Dr. Weird.
Good evening. Come in, won't you?
By what's the matter? You seem a bit nervous.
Perhaps the cemetery outside this house has upset you.
But there are things far worse than cemeteries.
For instance, an hypnotic force which drives a person to murder.
As in the story I want to tell you tonight.
A story I call The Knife of Death.
My story, The Knife of Death, begins several years ago in the city of London.
All London is blacked out, waiting for the nightly visit of German bombers.
Henry Hawkins, an air raid warden, slowly makes his way through a street filled with wreckage with the aid of a blackout lantern.
As Big Ben strikes the hour, the city is filled with the sound of a gunfire.
Big Ben strikes the hour, Hawkins stops and listens.
Is that you, Albert?
Yes.
No, no, there, Henry, my lad. It's ten o'clock and I'm here to relieve you.
Look at this street, will you? Pretty much them juries made of it last night.
Aye, it's oddly outstanding.
Well, I'll miss beginning on home, Albert, before the missus begins worrying.
I'll walk a bit of the way with you, Henry.
Thanks, Albert.
Yet, you mind the wreckage now, Henry?
It wouldn't make much, but without it we'd break our necks.
Half a minute, Albert. Shine your light this way, will you?
Aye, what's up?
I kicked something that was...
Here it is.
Blimey, it's a knife.
Aye, why don't I clean it up a bit?
Henry, look, the handle of that knife. Why, it's blood red.
Aye, the handle seems to be carved out of some kind of stone. Looks like ruby to me.
It does at that. Look at the way it gleams and glitters, Henry. I've never seen anything like it.
Not of eye. The handle looks like a pool of blood.
And when you hold the linden close to it, the fire of the stone seems to go right through you.
Henry, what's come over you? Come off it, will you?
The fire of the stone makes me feel all warm inside and strong.
It does, aye? Let me hold it a bit, Henry.
No.
Now, just a minute, Henry. Half of that knife is mine. I helped you find it, didn't I?
Stop reaching for it. It's mine, I tell you.
Half of that knife is mine. I've got a right to hold it. Now, give it here.
Try to take it from me, will you? Well, take this, Henry.
No!
What? What have I done?
Albert. Albert, speak to me.
I didn't mean to stab you, Albert.
He's dead. I've murdered him.
If they catch me, they'll hang me for this. I've got to get out of here.
Is that you, Henry? Yes.
Where have you been? It's half past twelve.
I stopped at the corner pub.
Henry, you've been drinking.
Well, what if I have?
The man has a few drinks in the egg as though he's murdered someone.
Well, I've got a right to take a few drinks.
Stop shouting, Henry. I'm not deaf.
Here, I'll hang up your coat for you.
I can hang it up myself.
What fell out of... Why, it's a knife.
Henry, what are you doing with a knife?
I found it. Here, let it alone. It's mine.
Why, there's fresh blood all over the blade.
Why, look, Millie. It's just the color of the ruby anor.
Henry, how did blood get on that blade?
It glows and glitters like it were alive.
It makes me feel all warm inside. Warm and strong.
Henry, you frighten me when you talk like that.
You'd best give me that knife. No, take it anyway. It's mine.
Henry, you're drunk. Now give it here.
Give it here, I say. No, I'll give it to you like this.
Henry, you...
You stabbed me.
What? What have I done?
Millie, speak to me.
I didn't mean to do it, love.
It's this knife. It's a cursed knife that made me do it.
Oh, Millie, what have I done?
Poor Millie. Poor Henry.
What's going to happen, Dr. Weird?
Well, I'll tell you.
Can you keep something under your hat?
Somehow, doctor, you remind me of something I was going to say.
If you'll pardon the brief interruption.
Under more and more hats these days, right inside,
you'll find the familiar Adam crest of quality.
It's no coincidence that these Adam hats are worn by well-dressed men.
Men who know quality instinctively recognize the genuine superiority of an Adam
in the fine fur felt, the expert craftsmanship, and the correct styles.
What's more, Adam hats come in a wide choice of styles
and colors and shapes, triple assurance that you'll get the hat that's right for you.
Next time you go stepping out, wear an Adam.
People will notice the difference.
Now, let's step into the Hawkins house again.
Dr. Weird.
And now to continue my story, The Knife of Death.
The neighbors hearing Mrs. Hawkins cry out as she was stabbed,
called Corporal Mason, a bobby who was on duty nearby.
When Mason entered the Hawkins house, he found Henry sitting in a chair,
his face buried in his hand.
Mrs. Hawkins was dead, the murder weapon on the floor beside the body.
Corporal Mason notified Scotland Yard, and 20 minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
Here we are, Hawkins. I'll answer the door.
Good evening, Corporal. I'm Inspector King of Scotland Yard.
This is Sergeant Roberts. How do you do, sir? Good evening.
Nasty mess. Nothing's been touched? No, sir.
I presume this is the dead woman's husband? Yes, sir. Henry Hawkins, his name is.
Now then, Hawkins, I must ask you a few questions.
I warn you, however, that anything you may say may be used in court against you.
You understand? Yes, sir. Very well.
Hawkins, you confess to the murder of your wife? Yes.
I killed her, but it wasn't my fault. The knife, it drove me to it.
The knife drove you to it? I'm afraid I don't understand.
It not. It cursed a blood-red handle. It made me do it.
This is the most unusual looking knife with that blood-red handle.
Strange. What is that?
In some report or other in our files, I recall reading something about a knife with a blood-red handle.
Now, where did I read that? Oh, well, never mind.
Um, Hawkins, where did you get that knife?
Well, I was coming off air raid duty tonight. I stumbled on it.
It's a wreckage. Huh? Where was this?
Miller Court, sir, right off Dorset Street.
Miller's Court? Miller's Court, you say? Yes, sir.
Hey, Joe, now I remember where I read about the knife with the blood-red handle.
Really, sir? Yes.
It was in the file of Jack the Ripper. Jack the Ripper? Yes.
In 1886, Jack the Ripper attacked a woman near Hanbury Street.
The victim was found dying, but before she died,
she muttered a few words about being stabbed by a knife with a handle red as blood.
Surely, sir, you don't think there's any connection between Jack the Ripper's knife and that one lying there on the floor?
There's more to my story, Mason.
Do you remember the name of Jack the Ripper's last victim?
Oh, yes, it was Mary Kelly. She was murdered in November 1888.
Quite right, Corporal. Do you remember where her body was found?
Oh, no, sir, of course, yes, I do. Her body was found in Miller's Court, right off Dorset Street.
What is Court? Well, that's where Hawkins said he found the knife that's lying there on the floor.
Exactly.
Are you trying to tell us, Inspector, that the knife Hawkins found belonged to Jack the Ripper?
Or that he's been lying in the street these past 50 years?
No, no, no, not lying in the street, Corporal.
What if, after Jack the Ripper had murdered Marie Kelly,
he had lost the knife at the scene of the crime?
Say, for example, it dropped into a drain and the bombs that fell in Miller's Court last night turned it up again.
Oh, come now, sir. Why, unless you be saying that Hawkins is right,
that there is something about that knife that drives people to commit murder with it.
There is, I tell you. There is.
When you hold it in your hand, it seems to come alive.
Drives you against your will to kill.
Oh, you daft.
Meaning, of course, that you think I'm daft, too?
Oh, no, sir, I didn't mean that, sir.
Well, I'll admit it's rather a wild theory.
But what if it were true?
Don't you see that might account for Marie Kelly being the Ripper's last victim?
Once he lost the knife, he was no longer driven to murder.
Well, sir, you don't really believe that knife has an evil force behind it, do you?
No, no, I suppose not, and yet, well, it's an interesting theory.
Oh, yes, sir, yes, quite. Yes, quite.
Sergeant Roberts. Yes, sir.
You remain here with Corporal Mason while I take the prisoner to Scotland Yard.
Yes, sir.
I'll give you a touch, mind you. I'll send the technical staff over at once.
Very good, sir.
All right, come along, Hawkins. Yes, sir.
I say, Sergeant, isn't it bad time to retire in the Inspector?
He acts a bit barmy.
Yeah, yeah, have a little more respect there.
Oh, come off it.
Even you've got to admit the old man sounds barmy.
Imagine, sir, that the knife there on the floor once belonged to Jack the Ripper.
And there's an evil force behind it.
The old man's always getting queer ideas.
Well, that's just about the queerest I ever heard.
Hey, it's an unusual knife, all right with that, that red handle, but...
Evil force behind it.
Hey, now, don't you go picking it up.
Take it easy, will you?
I'm using an anchor to pick it up, ain't I?
Just want to take a closer look at it.
You heard what the Inspector said. Nothing was to be touched.
You know, the handle does seem to sort of glitter and glow.
It makes you feel warm inside.
Now you've done it.
You put your hand all around the handle and spoil the fingerprints.
Feels good to hold it like this.
Mason, as your superior, I order you to put that knife down.
Put it down, do you hear?
Makes you feel strong.
Here, give me that knife.
That's mine. Keep away.
You... You daft, give it to me.
Stay away from me.
I'll teach you to disobey an order.
You'll end it over, or I'll...
You'd better take it from me, would you? All right, take it!
He's dead.
I'll kill him.
This bloody knife.
It's only to kill him.
I didn't want to do it, but it made me.
Inspector, he must have been right.
It's the knife. It is the knife ejector, Ippa.
Too bad about poor Mason, wasn't it?
But as everyone knows, a knife is a dangerous thing to play with.
Particularly a knife with a blood-red handle that glows and glitters with a hypnotic force.
What happened to it?
It's under lock and key at Scotland Yard.
And strangely enough, when Henry Hawkins and Corporal Mason were tried for murder,
a death weapon wasn't offered in evidence.
Inspector King was afraid to have anyone handle it.
By the way, if you should ever come across a knife with a blood-red ruby handle,
oh, you have to go.
Perhaps you'll drop in on me again soon.
Just look for the house on the other side of the cemetery.
The house of Dr. Weir.