014- The Young Man with the Cream Tarts

I started your Christmas shopping yet. Worried about where the money's coming from? Wanna get away from it all? We offer you escape. You were seated around a green felt table with a dozen desperate men waiting for the turn of a card.

If it's the ace of spades, you will be next. And your desperate they desire the impossible. Escape. Escape. Produced and directed by William N. Robeson and carefully plotted to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure.

Tonight we escape to London of the last century. A London of gas lights and handsome cabs. A London where a gentleman still valued his word of honor above his life. A London of which one terrifying incident is recorded by Robert Louis Stevenson and his unforgettable story, The Young Man with a Cream Tarts.

City seems to offer little amusement tonight. Well, bottoms up, let's be on our way. Writer, your health, and yours. Madam, will you honor me?

Well now, what's this? Young man with a tray of cream tarts. He's giving them away. Perhaps one of the turns on the bill, perhaps. Shall we go, here, sir? I pray you accept this infection, for if you do not, I am bound to eat it myself.

You must be crazy. I was never more sane, you were I? I do. There's nothing for it. My twenty-seventh tart since five o'clock. Now there are about two left. You, sir. Yes? Will you so far honour an entire stranger?

Trilly, excellent pastry. I should know I've eaten enough of them. It is not the nature of a gift that is important, But the spirit in which it is offered. The spirit there is one of Makhare.