Three Skeleton Key

Suspents and the producer of radios outstanding theater of thrills the master of mystery and adventure William and Robeson You're about to experience one of the most terrifying half hours in your entire life Three skeleton key starring Vincent Price. Oh Yes, I realize superlatives tend to lose their significance by overuse How many times have you even promised that a story would be the funniest or the most dramatic or the most exciting

only to find that it failed to live up to its advertising? The story you're about to hear is an exception. It is unconditionally guaranteed to chill your blood unless you happen to love rats. We begin now with Mr. Vincent Price in Three Skeleton Key, A play well calculated to keep you in.

SUSPENSE picture this place. A great tapering cylinder welded by iron rods and concrete to the key itself. A bare black rock 150 feet long, maybe 40 wide.

That's it low tide. And high tide, just the life, rising 110 feet straight up out of the ocean. And all about it, the churning water, grey, green scum-dappled, warm as soup, and swarming with gigantic, bat-like devilfish, great violet spools of Portuguese man-a-war, and, yes, sharks, the big ones, the fifteen footers.

And as if this wasn't enough, there was a hot dank rotten smelling wind that came at us day and night off the jungle swabs of the mainland. A wind that smelled like death. Set in the base of the light was a watertight bronze door.

Then you went and up, yes, up and up and round and round, past the tanks of oil and the coils of rope, cases of wicks, racks of lantern sacks of spuds and cottons and cans and up, and up, and up, round and round.