46xxxx (017) The Ace of Death

Your card, Mr. Thompson. The King of Heart. Colonel Moore. The Five of Clubs, Mr. President. Count Ritzine. Come, count. We are waiting. What is your card? Blessed is Father. I beg your pardon.

The Ace of Death. Midnight. The witching hour when the night is darkest. Our fears the strongest. And our strength at its lowest end. Midnight, when the graves keep open and death strikes, how? You'll learn the answer in just a minute in The Ace of Death.

And now, murdered at midnight, tales of mystery and terror by radio's masters of the macabre. Our story based on Robert Louis Stevenson's immortal suicide club is by Max Ehrlich. It's title, The Ace of Death.

I stood there on the bridge and stared down into the swirling fog. It hid the river like a white shroud, I shivered. To be cold down there, freezing cold, I would go down, down, deep into the black watery depths, my ears bursting in my lungs, fighting for breath.

And then, finally, there would be silence. Silence. And eternal peace. a clock began to chime eleven. The last hour, the last hour of a man's life, my life. I, John Evans, ill and broke without family or friends, sick and wary of the constant struggle among earthbound mortals. Look forward to my new future, death. I put one foot over

the bridge rail, my heart pounded, my head throbbed, and then someone came out of the mist and seized me from behind. I don't know your fool. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.

Well, I still got the time. You hear what I've got to say. Why did you stop me? Why I wanted to die. I wanted to. I sympathize with you young man. You see, I too am tired of life and seek death.