The Earth Is Made of Glass

And now, tonight's presentation from Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Priz suspects. Tonight, the story of a murder, deliberate, cold, motiveless, in which we will examine its effects on our protagonist. The story is called The Earth is Made of Glass.

Good morning, Dr. West. Oh, good morning, Ms. Adam. I've brought down the night charts from the fourth floor. I know, I look the morning. What sort of night did you have? Fairly quiet, doctor. No new cases.

They were. I don't know where you'd put them. Well, we have one vacant bed this morning. 4.36. Mr. Steele? Yes, he died about 4 a.m. Surprising held on that long. I thought you might be upset, doctor.

I mean, the day supervising, Miss Rosenberg told me you and Mr. Steele were either related or a very close friend. No, no, not at all. Mr. Steele suffered certain delusions. And just before he died, he asked me to give you this, Dr. West.

It's some kind of diary or journal. He said he owed it to you, that it was in compensation. Oh, well, leave it on the desk. I'll ask who is in charge of settling his estate.

All right, Doctor. I looked at the first two pages. Very strange. Oh. Well, I'm going off duty. Very well, Miss Adams. I'll see you tomorrow. Yes, Doctor. Journal of Richard Thomas Steel. Strange. He tore out a good many pages.

Everything up to July 26th, that's only a month ago. Why on earth do you leave it to me? Who do you think I was? Who definitely was certainly something torturing him? July 26th, an extremely depressing day.

From early morning on, the air was hot, heavy, sticky. I stayed indoors. I stayed indoors with the blinds drawn, spent three and a half hours arranging and cataloguing a new shipment of books. I must say I, gloated over the volume of bacon, gold leaf uncut, 1836, a treasure.