The strange Dr. Weird.
Good evening. Come in, won't you?
Why, what's the matter? Not nervous, are you?
I don't want you to be nervous.
Perhaps if I told you a story, it might help to calm you.
I know a very nice story about a man who tried to live another man's life for him.
I call it The Two Faces of Death.
And now for my story, The Two Faces of Death.
In an office high above the city, George Post of the financial firm of Post and Jones
is dictating to his secretary, Nelson Smith, when the telephone rings.
Shall I answer it, Mr. Post?
No, I'll get it, Nelson. Hello, Post speaking. Who? Oh, yes. Yes, I see.
Monday morning, you say? And the tip came from... Yes, yes, I get it.
I'll take the necessary steps. Goodbye. Nelson, where are you going?
I was going to the washroom, Mr. Post.
Come back here.
Yes, sir.
Nelson, that phone call was from a friend of mine.
He says the authorities are going to investigate the firm's books Monday morning.
They got a tip that we're indulging in phony stock deals. And that tip came from you.
No, no, Mr. Post, it wasn't me.
You turned us in, Nelson.
Please, Mr. Post, I don't know what you're talking about.
What are you doing with that paper knife?
I'm just going to teach you a little lesson.
No, no, stay away from me. Stay...
That Nelson is how a stool pigeon always winds up. Dead.
Is there anything wrong, George? I thought I... Good Lord, what have you done?
Listen, Walter, Nelson tipped off the feds that our stock deals have been phonies.
We'd better clear out.
Ida Kiln and Nelson are here to have the cops right after us.
Yes, but, Walter...
Don't worry, I have a plan. We'll hide Nelson's body in the closet.
This is Friday. It won't be found until Monday.
But then what?
All right, you'll see.
Right now, we're going to drive up to my lodge in the mountains.
I have a new lodgekeeper up there named Tony Amato.
And Tony's going to surprise you, Walter. He's going to surprise you very much.
Late that evening, the two partners reached the lonely hunting lodge in the Adirondacks.
And when Walter Jones got his first glimpse of Tony Amato, the lodgekeeper,
he would scarcely conceal his astonishment.
George Post gave Tony orders to prepare dinner.
Just whip up anything you've got, Tony. We're starved.
Yes, Mr. Post. I'll have something ready in half an hour.
Good. We'll wash up meanwhile.
Right, Mr. Post.
Oh, my gosh, George. Is that the surprise?
Why, he looks just like you. He could be your twin brother.
That's the surprise, Walter. You know, fate works in funny ways.
I was driving back from Chicago last winter when I picked up a hitchhiker, Tony.
He was broke and desperate.
He confessed to me the police wanted him for petty larceny.
When I offered him this job as lodgekeeper, he was so grateful he almost cried.
I see.
Both Tony and I recognized that we looked alike.
He thought I was helping him because of that.
Actually, I figured I might need a fall guy sometime soon, and he'd be it.
No, the time is here.
Right.
Suppose the police raid this lodge and find Tony Amato dead wearing my clothes.
Beside him, there's a note confessing everything.
What'll it look like, huh?
Suicide, of course. They'll bury him and stop looking for you.
Exactly. You can go on back to town and claim you didn't know what was going on.
I'll take all the blame and clear you entirely.
Why, that's perfect, George.
But after you've taken care of Tony Amato's identity, what'll you do?
I'll go back to Chicago and give myself up to the police.
What?
Yes. I'll claim amnesia.
Oh.
Say I can't remember what happened.
Just that I committed some kind of crime and I want to clear myself.
If necessary, I'll go to jail for six months for petty larceny.
It'll be the perfect hiding place.
Well, I'll be jiggy.
It's brilliant, George. Positively brilliant.
Yeah. Well, suppose we get ready for dinner.
It's going to be an important dinner for Tony Amato.
His last.
If George spends a few months in jail, we can certainly spend a few seconds on an important detail or two.
Details can be important, you know.
In hats, for example, such details as these.
How wide is the brim? Is the edge evenly stitched?
Is the hat band distinctive?
And does the shade harmonize with the rest of the hat?
If the size label says seven and a quarter, is it exactly seven and a quarter or more like seven and three-eighths?
Gentlemen, these may seem like small details, but add them up and you have the difference between an ordinary hat and one that really looks right on you.
The makers of Adam hats know this well.
They take a special care in the fashioning of every detail in their long line of smart hats.
It's this sort of style testing that assures you of correct hat styling when you buy an Adam.
Now, Dr. Weird.
Now I'll continue my story, The Two Faces of Death.
Dinner at the hunting lodge is over, and George Post has invited Tony Amato, who looks so strangely like him, to sit down and have a drink with them.
Tony is almost pathetically grateful to his employer.
Gee, Mr. Post, I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't picked me up that day.
I can't tell you what this job means to me.
George is like that, big-hearted. You like it here, Tony?
Oh, it's swell, Mr. Jones, so quiet and peaceful.
You haven't been into the village much, have you, Tony?
Oh, no, Mr. Post, you warned me about that. I haven't been to town once in the whole three months.
Good. Well, let's finish our drinks. Here's to crime.
Gee, that's good.
Well, Mr. Post, if you'll excuse...
I'll clear off.
I feel so funny. What's wrong with me?
You're dying, Tony, that's all.
Dying?
Yes, there's poison in that drink.
You see, Tony, I need your life. You're going to die and become me. I'm going to live and become you.
Simple, isn't it?
You're going to become me? That's a hot one.
Well, I hope you enjoy it. I hope you enjoy being Tony Amato.
Well, he's gone.
Very nicely done, George.
Yes, I think so. In a moment, you'll join him, Walter.
I'll join him. What do you say?
Just that I poison your drink, too.
You poisoned my drink?
Yes, you don't think I could leave you alive to double-cross me for the money we've got hidden away, do you?
I was going to double-cross you, George, but you beat me to it.
You're clever, George. Very clever.
Someday you'll be too clever.
Someday.
Two days later, in the early evening, George Post, dressed in clothes that had belonged to his ex-lodgekeeper, Tony Amato, descended from a bus in Midtown Chicago.
He walked a few blocks, then stopped to buy an evening paper.
Yeah, it should be here. They've had plenty of time to find the bodies.
I'm sure they've got a lot of money.
I asked, yes. Here it is.
Banking firm partners in suicide pact.
Police disclosed today that George Post and Walter Jones, the stock brokerage firm of Post and Jones, took their own lives.
Save for a complete auditing of the books to determine the size of the swindle, authorities have marked the case closed.
Well, that's that. George Post is dead.
Now to carry out the rest of the plan, to give myself up to the police and clear Tony Amato's record.
Oh, here comes a policeman now. He'll do.
Oh, officer.
What is it?
Officer, I want to give myself up.
Give yourself up?
What for would you be giving yourself up?
Tony Amato, is it?
What brings you back to Chicago, Tony?
Oh, you know me?
Sure I know you, Tony. Didn't I see you often enough hanging out in the pool rooms here in me beat?
Oh, then you must know what I did. What I'm wanted for.
Well, you see, I was in an auto accident. I hit my head. I can't remember much except my name and that I was running away from the police.
So it was the police you were running away from?
Yes, I think I stole a little money. I want to clear myself.
So you think you stole a little money? That's a hot one.
Well, maybe you did, but we don't want you Tony. You're free as the wind for our weak hills.
You mean I'm not wanted for anything?
Not as far as we are concerned.
Well, that's fine. I guess my memory...
Hey, Tony, look out! That car!
Ow!
Here he is, Inspector.
Hmm. Yeah, it's Tony all right. So the Scarlet mob got him, did they?
Yeah. I saw the car coming. I ducked just in time.
I wonder what brought Tony back to Chicago.
He must have known Joe Scarlet was after him for holding out on his numbers collection.
I sure can't figure it out, sir.
He was trying to tell me something about losing his memory when they got him.
One of the boys must have seen him on the street and recognized him.
Well, I guess we'll never know.
Wait a minute. His lips are moving. He is trying to speak. What is it, Tony?
I... I... not...
You're going to become me. That's a hot one. You're clever, George. Very clever.
No, I'm not... not Tony.
Can't catch what he's saying, Inspector.
I hope you enjoy being Tony Amaro.
Someday, George, you'll be too clever. Too clever.
He's dead, Inspector. Tony is dead.
Yes, our friend George was clever.
But when you try to live somebody else's life, you can never be sure what you're letting yourself in for, can you?
That's why it's always best just to be yourself.
So if you ever meet somebody who looks exactly like you, don't let yourself be tempted to try what George did.
I knew a man once who thought he could... Oh, you have to go now.
Perhaps you'll drop in again soon.
Just look for the house on the other side of the cemetery, the house of Dr. Weird.