The strange Dr. Weird.
Good evening. Come in, won't you?
Why, 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, a mad desire to kill.
It's in the story I want to tell you tonight.
A story I call Murder Will Out.
My story, Murder Will Out, begins in a large park of an eastern metropolis.
It is late at night, and the park is all but deserted.
Near a small underpass, a young man stands leaning against a tree,
whistling softly.
As he hears the approaching footsteps, he becomes tense.
Good evening.
What do you want?
You're very young and beautiful.
Please let me pass.
Your throat is white, soft and lovely.
If you don't get away from me, I'll scream.
I only want to put my hands around your throat.
Stay away from me!
That's it, struggle. I like it when they struggle.
But they never break my grip. I'm too strong.
Good morning, dear.
Good morning. Philip, did you have to work so late in the office last night?
Why, it was after one when you got home.
Oh, I'm sorry, Helen, but you know how busy I get towards the end of the month.
Morning paper come yet, dear?
Yes, here it is.
Philip, they found another girl strangled to death last night.
Oh, you don't say.
Isn't it horrible? Five young girls in less than two months.
It's getting so, I'm afraid to go on alone at night.
Oh, Philip, speaking of going out, will you be working tonight?
Well, I don't know yet. Why do you ask?
Well, Claire Winthrop made an appointment for me tonight with that marvelous new fortune teller, Andre Duval.
And I want you to go with me.
Helen, you know what I think of fortune tellers. They're all a pack of frauds and charlatans.
But Duval isn't a fraud, Philip.
Oh.
He's predicted some of the most amazing things that have come true.
Helen, that's nonsense, pure nonsense. I tell you, he's a fraud, just like the rest of them.
All you're doing is wasting your time and money.
Nevertheless, I want to try him. And I want you to go with me. Please, Philip.
But I may have to work tonight.
Well, my appointment with Duval isn't until ten o'clock.
Surely you can manage to meet me there by then.
Well, all right, Helen. I'll be at Duval's tonight and I'll prove to you that he's a fake, just like all fortune tellers.
Good evening.
Oh, what do you want?
I just want to look at you.
Oh, please let me by.
You're beautiful, just like the others.
Like the others?
Yes, your throat is so soft and lovely.
You're the straight one. Help.
That's it. That's it. Struggle. I like it when you struggle.
But you see, you can't break my grip.
Old hat is an expression that means, we've heard that one before.
Old hat is also an article of clothing that too many men persist in wearing to the detriment of their personal appearance.
We've said it so often.
Perhaps you cling to that old misshapen piece of headgear because you think no new hat can be comfortable.
Not so with an atom.
Because atom hats come in a wide variety of sizes and shapes, you're assured of a comfortable fit.
What's more, an atom adds immeasurably to your appearance.
Style for fashion, atom hats are made of richly lustrous all-fur felt in the smartest shades.
So toss away that tired old turban and buy a new atom hat tomorrow.
Now, we return to Dr. Weird.
And now I'll continue my story, Murder Will Out.
In the large luxurious apartment of Andre Duval, Helen Arnold waited impatiently for the arrival of her husband, Philip.
The grandfather clock in the foyer showed the time to be twenty-five minutes past ten.
It's Philip Ennard.
Hello, darling. Sorry I'm late. I was delayed.
Are you feeling all right?
Of course, of course. Why do you ask?
Your eyes are so bright and your cheeks are flushed. You look as if you have a fever.
Nonsense, nonsense. I'm perfectly well. Now, where's your friend Duval, the great fortune teller?
You were right, Philip. He's nothing but a fraud.
I paid him ten dollars and he prophesied nothing but unhappiness.
This grows more and more interesting. Tell me, what exactly did he tell you?
He said that someone very near and dear to me was destined to die within a year.
Well, Duval's a cheerful fellow, isn't he? I must have him tell me my fortune by all means.
It's just a waste of time and money. Come on, please, Philip. Let's go home.
Nonsense, nonsense. I wouldn't miss this for the world. Now, where is he? Come on.
Through that door over there.
All right, just you wait where you are. This shouldn't take long.
All right, Philip.
All men.
Oh, Mr. Duval, I'm Philip Arnold.
Oh, yes. Come in, Mr. Arnold.
Thank you.
If you will sit here, please.
Of course.
Ah, I see in your eyes, Mr. Arnold, that you have no faith in me.
Frankly, Mr. Duval, I haven't, but I'm perfectly willing to have my mind changed.
Perhaps if I were to tell you something of your past, something only you know, it might help.
It might.
If you will run the palm of your left hand across this pile of sand, please.
Oh, well, all right. There you are.
Well, come on. What are you reading, the sand?
I see many things in the sand, but even I may be wrong.
Would you mind running the palm of your hand across the sand again?
Oh, very well. There.
Oh, come on. Why do you keep staring at the sand like that? What do you see?
The sands reveal a dark and tortured past. You have taken human lives.
You're wrong.
No, it is all here in the sands. You have murdered the innocent.
Who are you? What's your game? Look, if you're trying to...
You needn't be afraid, Mr. Arnold.
Whatever I tell you will not be revealed to anyone else.
How can I be sure of that?
There is an old Chinese proverb, in the end, justice works itself out.
What is meant to be will be. Nothing can change that which is ordained.
You mean, you mean because you believe that you wouldn't go to the police?
Yes.
I was a fool to get excited. What if you did go to the police?
They wouldn't believe you anyway.
Shall I read your future for you now? That is what you came for, no?
My future?
So.
Well, all right, all right, go ahead.
Please turn the palm of your right hand across this pile of sand.
Oh, very well. There, there.
So?
And what do you see?
Sometimes it is better not to know what the future holds.
Whatever it is, I want to know. Now, come on, let's have it.
As you wish. The sands are not altogether clear, but I can see that you are going to commit one more murder.
And that when you do, you will be caught.
Caught?
Yes. You will be caught and executed. And nothing you can do will change it.
Philip, what's wrong with you? Ever since Duval told you a fortune the other night, you've been nervous as a cat.
I'm perfectly all right, I tell you.
Oh, you're not. You haven't slept a wink for three nights. Why don't you tell me what Duval said?
Look, I've told you over and over again, it was just a lot of gibberish. Now, stop asking so many questions, please.
But I'd like to know what he told you.
Will you be quiet?
Philip, you're cold. Are you choking me?
I'm sorry, Helen. I didn't know it came over me. You know, I didn't mean to choke you, darling.
I'm sorry if I made you.
Helen, my head aches. When I needed some fresh air, I'm going out for a walk in the park.
Good evening.
Oh, you stop with me.
I'm sorry.
What do you want? Please let me pass.
You're so young. You have such a lovely white throat.
You're the strangler. No, don't!
Oh, such a lovely throat.
You are going to commit one more murder. And when you do, you will be caught.
Help! Help!
Wait! She's gotten away. It's all Duval's fault. It's Duval!
I had my hands around this road, Duval, when suddenly I heard you speaking to me.
You said you were going to commit one more murder. And when you do, you'll be caught.
And thus it shall be. Nothing can change that which is ordained.
But I didn't murder her. Don't you understand me? I lost my nerve and I let go of her. She got away from me.
Nevertheless, you will commit one more murder. And when you do, you will be caught and executed.
Duval, tell me, for whose death will they execute?
Harry's hands are confused. I can't be sure.
Well, don't you see, if I know the name of the person, I won't go through with a murder. Then I can't be executed.
I tell you, I cannot tell the name of the person for whose death you will be executed.
You're lying. You can, but you won't.
I cannot do it. It is useless for you to insist.
I'll make you tell me. I'll make you.
I'll make you.
Now, once you do tell me what I want to know...
I can't. You can and you will.
You're so heartless, Sam. Give me the name.
No. No, I give it to me.
Yes.
Yes. Now. I know.
That's better.
Now, now what's the name?
The sons are confused. I didn't know before, but now, suddenly, I know.
Come on, what is it?
The name is Andre Duval.
You? Yes. You? Yes.
But, but the man...
You're not going to die. You're going to be all right.
No. No, I am dying. It's late and the shock...
I've been too great for my weak heart.
No. I have only a few moments.
Duval. Duval.
He's dead. I've murdered him.
What's going on in there? Open up.
Mr. Puddes.
Too bad about Philip Barnard, wasn't it?
When he was sentenced to death for Duval's murder, his friends were all mystified because he didn't appeal his case.
But, of course, Philip knew it was hopeless.
What is written in the sands of time cannot be changed.
And sure enough, bright and early one morning, they did hang him.
By the way, if you know any fortune tellers, you might be wise to give them a wide berth.
And if you don't, you too might...
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.