The Case Of The Curious Undertaker

Good evening, this is Peter Loy. This is losing the strange things to people. When the world delivers a crushing and saddening blow, there is an impulse to renounce life completely. But a bar to door is no insurance against death, as you will hear tonight in a mystery playhouse.

Mystery Playhouse is host tonight to that champion of the people and defender of truth. Mr. District Attorney. Mr. D.A. has been putting a finger on a criminal element of the big city for some time now.

He's dealt with all sorts of racketeers, thieves, murderers, and come out on top every time. Let's see how he does it tonight, huh? In a business district of Mr. B.A. City, surrounded by tall grey buildings, stands a loom house, its windows boarded, its walls faded, the unkempt and gentle remains of yesterday's blender, striving valiantly but hopelessly to hold its own against the strong and overwhelming

guards of today's commerce. Within the house, a single carousel man dimly lights a dusty, disordered room. Here, an old lady seated in a chair, rocking, rocking, backing for another old woman in Kisturung and speaks to.

Ela, what is it, Mary? I don't like to bother you, but isn't it time that I went to the store? You're not going to the store, sister. But I go every day. I have my reasons, Mary, but there's no food in the house, I know.

And we need kerosene for the land. I'm aware of that. Well, then, why don't ease remember my day? I am your older sister. Oh, I'm not questioning your decision, Ella, but what is your reason?

We have no money. No money. Mr. Douglas has not sent us our cash allowance for the last four weeks. Well, no. I don't know. Then what should we do, sister? I am going to see, Mr. Douglas.