The strange Dr. Weird.
Good evening. Come in, won't you?
Well, what's the matter? You seem nervous tonight.
Perhaps the cemetery outside my house has upset you.
But speaking of the cemetery, reminds me of a story I want to tell you.
About a murderer who was dead and buried, but who kept on killing people just the same.
I call it Revenge from the Grave.
Revenge from the Grave.
My story, Revenge from the Grave, begins in the suburban section of a large city.
It is just midnight, and a full moon casts dark shadows beneath the trees that line the street.
John Rogers, a businessman on his way home, turns a corner, but stops abruptly as a man with a scarf about his face steps out of the shadow.
Just a moment, Rogers.
Who are you? What do you want?
I want to talk to you.
Get out of my way.
Not so fast.
A gun? What are you threatening me with a gun for? What have you got that scarf covering your face for?
Because my face? Well, my looks have changed in the month since I was executed and buried.
But you recognize my voice, don't you, Rogers?
Yes.
Reynaldo the Great.
But you, you're dead. You died a month ago in the electric chair.
Exactly. You were a foreman of the jury that found me guilty.
Guilty of murder. So...
No!
John Rogers' strange death remained a complete mystery to the police for a month.
And then, early one evening, a pale-faced young man called upon Henry Wilson, the district attorney who had successfully convicted Reynaldo the Great,
to tell him a story that Wilson found quite impossible to believe.
Now, wait a minute. Let me get that gun.
You say your name is Walter Jones and that you used to be assistant to Reynaldo the Great.
That's right, Mr. Wilson. I was his assistant for three years.
I see. And you're trying to tell me that last month Reynaldo climbed out of his grave and murdered John Rogers. Is that it?
Yes. You see, Mr. Wilson, the day of Reynaldo's execution, I visited him at the prison.
He'd sent for me, you see, and I can still hear him.
He was a very good man. He was a very good man.
The day of Reynaldo's execution, I visited him at the prison. He'd sent for me, you see, and I can still hear his voice as he greeted me.
Well, Walter, so you came.
Yes, Reynaldo. What can I do for you?
Tomorrow, after I'm gone, you must get the names and addresses of the judge, the prosecutor, and the twelve jurymen who sent me to my death.
Death? Names and addresses?
Yes. Write them down in my secret notebook and be sure to bury that notebook with me.
I... I don't understand.
Each month, on the night of the full moon, I shall return from my grave to execute one of the fourteen.
I shall not sleep in peace until they are all dealt with.
And did you put the names and addresses in his coffin when he was buried?
Yes, and now I'm positive that Reynaldo is using them to get in touch with the fourteen men he swore to kill.
Please, Mr. Wilson. Tonight the moon is full.
Unless you do something, Reynaldo will kill someone else. Perhaps even you.
Oh, my boy, go home and get some sleep and forget all this.
Nobody's going to be murdered tonight by Reynaldo's spook. I personally guarantee it.
Only partly reassured, young Walter Jones left.
District Attorney Henry Wilson went on with his interrupted reading until he heard the clock strike midnight.
Suddenly a loud knocking at his door started in the middle.
All right, just a moment.
Who are you?
You don't recognize me?
Not with that scarf wrapped around your face, no.
The scarf is to keep from innocent passersby a sight that should remain forever hidden within the darkness of a maudering coffin.
But my voice, surely you recognize that.
Your voice?
Reynaldo the Great.
No, that's impossible.
Reynaldo, come to call on you tonight, the night of the full moon, to kill you.
Like this?
Oh, you refuse to believe in the power that the great Reynaldo did rule.
Just as the others on my list still do.
But they shall learn that not even the grave can stand between them and the fate that is theirs.
Even the grave can stand between them and the fate that is theirs.
Say, Dr. Weird, what kind of a doctor are you?
Well, I'm an M.D. of a different kind.
Doctor of madness.
And I am a D.H., doctor of hats.
My counsel to all men is this.
If your hats never seem to fit properly, if you're always tugging at the brim and fussing with a crown,
remember that trying to doctor up a sick-looking hat isn't going to remedy the case.
The best prescription is to get a hat that's designed from the start to keep in good shape and fit neatly.
An Adam hat.
Made of finest quality material, Adam hats have the stamina to wear well and are styled to the best taste.
Color shades are distinctive and appropriate.
For hats that reflect perfect craftsmanship, see the latest line of smartly-fashioned Adam hats.
Prices only $3.45 to $10.
At all of the thousands of Adam hat stores and authorized dealers from coast to coast.
Now, the good Dr. Weird.
And now I'll continue my story, Revenge from the Grave.
After the mysterious murder of District Attorney Wilson, Young Walter Jones went to Judge Dexter,
who had sentenced Ronaldo the Great to death.
He told Judge Dexter the whole story of Ronaldo's vow of vengeance and was greeted as he feared the will's skepticism.
Now, Jones, you want me to believe that Ronaldo the Great, dead and buried for two months,
emerged from his coffin that night to strangle Wilson?
It's true, I know it's true.
You really believe that? Why didn't you go to the police immediately?
You should have laughed at me.
Besides, I didn't want to believe it was true.
But tonight the moon is full again.
Huh?
Tonight you'll kill someone else unless we stop him. I know he will.
Just what do you propose we do?
We must go to the cemetery tonight, just the two of us, and open Ronaldo's coffin.
Take away that list of names and addresses that I buried with him.
Then he'll be help us.
I see you believe all this, Jones.
Well, just to set your mind at rest, I'll go to the cemetery with you and prove to you once and for all
that Ronaldo the Great is dead and quite incapable of coming back to harm anyone.
An hour later, the two men stood outside the small marble mausoleum
where the body of Ronaldo the Great lay in its coffin.
Walter Jones opened the door with a key, and they stepped inside.
Then he shut it again and turned on the flashlight he had brought.
Look, Judge, that's Ronaldo's coffin. Look at it, Judge.
It's solid bronze, and it can be opened from the inside as well, while it's from the outside.
From the inside?
Yes. That was Ronaldo's last instruction.
The lid is fastened with a catch that can be worked from the inside.
I see. Well, we're going to open it now.
And I'll prove to you that in spite of everything, what you believe is impossible.
There. Now shine the flashlight inside. You see?
Ronaldo.
There's Ronaldo the Great. Dead if I ever saw a dead man.
Now, are you convinced?
Look, there's the notebook with the names and addresses of the men he swore vengeance on.
And in his hand looked, Judge, merciful heavens of Obama.
The gun he shot John Rogers with. It must be...
Oh, no, no. It's impossible.
Oh, the flashlight. What's happened to it?
Something... something knocked it out of my hand.
You fool, you dropped it. Pick it up and turn it on again. It's black as pitch in here.
I... well, no Ronaldo.
Oh.
Jones, what is it? Where are you? Jones, answer me.
He cannot answer you, Judge Dekster. I have silenced him for the time being.
No, no.
At your service, my dear Judge.
No, I don't believe it. It's not possible. You're dead. I saw your body there in the coffin.
Quite true. I'm dead and I'm also alive.
An interesting paradox, isn't it?
Time now for you to suffer the fate to which you sentenced me.
Don't. Don't. Don't.
You'll die. I call the rape. You're sworn that you shall die and you shall.
No, if you won't let me go, I'll have to shoot you.
Now, where are my matches?
Oh, yes. There. Now I can see.
Jones. Jones. Speak to me.
Judge. What happened?
I feel so funny. So weak. My chest hurts.
Jones, I shot you with the gun we found hidden in Ronaldo's coffin.
I had to. You would have killed me if I hadn't.
I killed you?
Yes.
I don't understand.
But I do now. Listen, my boy.
That last interview you had with Ronaldo and his cell, he hypnotized you before you left him.
He ordered you to carry out his mad scheme of vengeance for him.
I don't understand.
He hypnotized you and told you that each night of the full moon you would believe you were he, Ronaldo.
That you'd talk like him and act like him.
It was you who killed John Rogers and the district attorney.
Just as you tried to kill me a moment ago.
You couldn't help it, my boy. You were just carrying out a condemned man's diabolical scheme.
I... Jones. Jones.
It's no use. He's gone.
And Ronaldo the Great is really dead. At last.
So that's the secret to how a dead man could continue to kill after his death.
By hypnotizing his assistant into acting for him. Clever, wasn't it?
Lucky Judge Dexter found that gun where poor Walter Jones had unknowingly hidden it in Ronaldo's coffin.
Ronaldo might still be coming to life on nights of the full moon to continue his diabolical plan of revenge.
Hey, you weren't on that jury that convicted Ronaldo, were you?
If you were, I'd certainly...
Oh, you have to go now.
But perhaps you'll visit me again soon.
Just look for the house on the other side of the cemetery at the house of Dr. Weir.