46xxxx (036) Island of the Dead

You know what won't do you any good? Because this time I'm going to pass judgment myself. Fifteen years I've been thinking about this, dreaming about it.

My fingers around your throat, digging into that flabby windpipe of yours tighter and tighter And now I've got a nice grave already waiting for you. Right next to your friend. Three graves yawning on a lonely fogbound island waiting for whom. You'll learn the answer in just a moment. In tonight's story, the island of the dead.

And now our story, the Island of the Dead, an original radio play by one of radio's best-known mystery writers, Robert Newman, a story of a dead man who came back. It's a small island flat and barren, lying in the middle of the river, and it's truly an Island of the Dead, which the city's potters feel.

It's here that the name is dead or buried. Those who have no relatives to claim them, those who are too poor to pay for burial elsewhere, that what end of the island is the pier where the city launch docks, at the other end of the island in the midst of the shallow graves, the squat stone building where the watchman

lives. It's 1130 at night now. He's sitting in the office reading a paper. and listening to the river sounds when... Who's there? Who's that? I said who's there? Who the devil are you? What do you want?

I think that this is where I'm supposed to come. What do you mean? Are you the another relief man? My name is Simon. I'm Hallity. Now, on lay off that stuff, will you? This place is bad enough without you spooking around.