The strange Dr. Weird.
Good evening. Come in, won't you?
Why, what's the matter? You seem a bit pale.
Have you been working too hard?
Possibly a story might help relax you.
A story say about a man who could read other men's minds,
and who felt sure his strange power would make him tremendously wealthy.
I call his story, The Man Who Knew Everything.
My story, The Man Who Knew Everything, begins in the Crystal Club,
a lavish nightclub.
A small man, very old, clad in robes of yellow silk,
moves from table to table.
He carries a small crystal ball into which he peers,
as he tells diners their most secret thoughts.
He calls himself Randor, the Mystic.
Watching him from the doorway are three men,
Nick Thompson, owner of the club, Rocky Brogan, his bodyguard,
and Jerry Fenton, the press agent who handles Randor's affairs.
It's really an act Randor has there, Jerry.
What I'd like to know is, is it a gag or is it on the level?
It's on the level, all right. You really can look inside your mind, Nick.
I'm staying away from him. I don't want anybody reading my mind.
I know too much about myself already.
If he's on the level, what's he doing working in the nightclub, Eric?
Why doesn't he use his little trick to clean up big?
He says it's dangerous to use powers like that for yourself.
He asked me, I think he's bugged.
I'll say. Imagine being able to read the combination of a bank book
from the cashier's mind.
It would be handy.
Nick, I got to do an errand.
If Randor asks for me, tell him I'll be back before the midnight show, will you?
Slipping from the club, Jerry Fenton a few minutes later
takes himself into the small apartment where his employer Randor lived alone.
Taking a sheaf of papers from a desk, he settles down to read.
An hour passed, and then unexpectedly he heard the door open.
Randor.
Yes, my friend.
I felt unwell. My heart pained me, so I returned to my home
to find you reading my secret document.
So what?
I've got pride into my secrets. I can see it clearly in your mind.
This is not the first time.
All right, then I have. And listen, you nightclub swami,
I've found out how you do your mind reading stunt.
That crystal ball you carry's got nothing to do with it.
It's those cough drops you're always chewing. They're doped.
True. They are doped with a specialist Indian drug
which keys up the brain so that it can receive the delicate thought waves
from another mind.
Yeah, and I know how to prepare those cough drops of yours.
It's a very neat trick, being able to hear another man's thoughts
right inside your own skull. I can do it myself now.
And you intend to use your knowledge for evil?
No, it must not be.
Swear to me you will forget what you know. Or else...
Or else what?
Or else you must die.
Ah, so that's how it is, huh? Well, two can play at that game.
What are you doing?
If one of us has got to go, it won't be me.
This cushion, Randor.
If I hold it over your face for a minute,
when they find you, they'll think your ticker gave out on you.
You dare not. This eye you have stolen, it will turn on you.
Men's thoughts are not to be trusted. You are.
Sorry, Randor, but nothing's stopping me now.
Nothing, do you hear?
As Gerard Fenton had foretold, the death of Randor the Mystic
was ascribed to natural causes.
But for several days, Fenton stayed in seclusion,
studying the notes he had stolen from the dead man.
Then one evening, he dropped in on Nick Thompson
and his bodyguard, Rocky Brogan, in Thompson's office.
Hello, Jerry. Sit down.
Thanks.
Nick, I've decided to take over the Crystal Club
and your little numbers racket.
Hey, what kind of a gag is this?
It's no gag. You see, Nick, I happen to know
you're wanted for murder in California.
How'd you know that?
I know. That's why you're turning the club
and your organization over to me.
Rocky.
Yeah, boss?
Get out your gun. We're taking care of this rat now.
I hate to tell you this, boss, but I'm working for Jerry now.
What?
Yeah. You see, I know things about Rocky, too.
He's decided it's smart to stick by me.
That's right, boss. He knows too much about me.
Well, in that case...
Rocky!
Right, boss?
Ow!
Well, that took care of him.
Yeah. Now, I'm boss around here, understand?
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, boss.
And, Rocky, I'm on my way.
In a year, I'll own this town.
Dr. Weird, the first part of your story about Jerry
makes me wonder, do you know anything about reading minds?
A little. A little.
For instance, right now, I can see you have something on your mind
about hats, the Adam hats.
Doctor, how did you guess?
You know, I was just thinking that Jerry, or any man for that matter,
would feel as if he owned the town if he owned an atom.
And it doesn't take mind reading to see why.
One look at the flair and dash of Adam hats
will make any man glow with enthusiasm.
A man who knows quality appreciates such atom features
as the fine tailoring, the lustrous all-fur felt,
the distinctive styles, and the softly harmonized shades.
And there's more to an atom than just meets the eye.
Put one on and feel how comfortably it fits,
as if it were made expressly for you.
What's more, an atom keeps its fine shape.
You'll always feel confident of your appearance
when you wear an Adam hat.
Now, our mastermind, Dr. Weir.
And now to continue my story,
The Man Who Knew Everything.
It is a day or so later, and Jerry Fenton,
confident now of his ability to accomplish anything he desires
by being able to read minds,
is closeted with Rocky Brogan.
All right now, Rocky, we're ready to get underway.
What are you figuring on, boss?
I want to get a bankroll together, a big bankroll.
So I'm going to start planning a few really big jobs
to get quick money.
If I can make a suggestion for you,
there's a job I've been kind of thinking about for a long time.
All right, what is it?
It's a payroll job, the S&J Company across the river.
Now, every Friday, they send an armored truck
to the bank here in town,
pick up a hundred grand and cart it back.
Now, if we could pick off that truck some nice, safe way...
A hundred thousand dollars.
Yeah, that'd be a swell beginning.
Tomorrow's Friday.
Tomorrow night, that payroll is going to be ours.
The next morning, Fenton, on a pretext,
interviewed the treasurer of the S&J Manufacturing Company.
And as they talked of harmless matters,
Fenton's keyed-up senses plucked from the other's mind.
Fact so astounding that Fenton was still laughing to himself
when he returned to the Crystal Club.
Well, Rocky, it's all set.
We're going to pick up that payroll this afternoon.
That's fast works.
Or else, where will we knock off the armored car?
We're not even going to bother with that armored car.
It's just a bluff.
The payroll is really delivered in an old truck
marked Tropical Towel Supply Company.
You're kidding.
An hour after the armored car leaves,
the laundry truck drives up at the rear of the bank.
The driver carries in a bundle of clean towels
and comes out with a bag of dirty ones.
The payroll is hidden among the dirty towels.
Well, I'll be a monkey-zunko.
Follow that truck and pick it up
when it reaches the warehouse district.
Take it to our own garage.
Get the payroll, then get rid of the truck and the driver.
After that, report back to me.
I like taking candy from a baby.
Okay, boss, I'm on my way.
That afternoon, as Fenton waited for Rocky Brogan's return,
he let himself daydream a little.
A hundred thousand dollars delivered in a bank of dirty towels.
And I learned about it as easily as if that fool treasurer
had told me in so many words.
I will own this town in a year.
Why not? There's no one to stop me.
Yeah, who is it?
Hey, boss, Rocky.
Come in, Rocky.
Boss, this is the driver of the towel supply truck.
Brian, what did you bring him here for?
I tell you, you're making a mistake, a bad mistake.
Yeah, we took the laundry truck smooth as ice cream, boss.
We got it in our garage.
But we can't find the payroll.
They can't? Why not?
Because there isn't any payroll. That's why.
Yeah, the boys are wondering maybe
if you didn't make a mistake, boss.
I haven't made a mistake. Rocky, step outside.
I'll find out where that payroll is.
Okay, boss. Call me when you made him call.
I don't know what your game is,
but you're making a terrible mistake, Mr. Rilley.
I can't be wrong. I know it.
Pardon me, I need a cough drop.
There we are. Now we'll get the truth.
But I told you the truth already.
Quiet. So, the bag with the payroll in it
is hidden in a secret compartment under the truck body.
No, you can't know that.
Nobody in the world knows that but me.
But I do know it now.
No, you won't get away with it.
I'll stop you. I'll stop you with this.
A gun?
Yeah, and you're going to let me go and I'll shoot.
I'll shoot to kill.
Then shoot, why don't you?
I'll tell you why you don't shoot.
Because the gun's empty and you know it.
That's not true. Stay away from me or I'll pull a trigger.
I will.
Go ahead and pull it.
You see, the bluff is no good.
I know the gun is empty just as well as you do.
In fact, I know it's empty because you do.
Now give it to me.
No, stand back. I'll shoot. I'll shoot.
Why, you... you shot me.
The gun wasn't empty.
But I thought... you thought...
He's dead. I killed him.
The gun was loaded.
I thought it was empty.
I was just bluffing.
All along, I thought it was empty.
So that was what Randor the Mystic meant
when he said men's thoughts couldn't be trusted.
When a man doesn't even know his own gun is loaded,
what good is it going to do to read his mind?
Poor Jerry. Perhaps his fate will be a lesson to you.
Don't depend on anyone else to do your thinking for you.
Because sometimes... oh, you have to go.
Perhaps... perhaps you'll drop in again soon.
Just look for the house on the other side of the cemetery.
The house of Dr. Weird.