Knife of Death

The strange Doctor Weir. Good evening. Come in, old Jew. No matter what's the matter, you seem a bit nervous. Perhaps the cemetery outside this house is of set you. But there are things, flowers and cemeteries.

For instance, an hypnotic force which drives a person to murder. As in the story I want to tell you tonight. A story I call... The Knife of Death My story the knife of death Begins several years ago in the city of London All London is blacked out waiting for the nightly visit of German bombers

Henry Hawkins an air-aid warden slowly makes his way through a street filled with wreckage with the aid of a blackout lantern as big Ben strikes the our Hawkins stops and listens You don't you, Albert?

Yep. No, no, they're entering me loud. It's 10 o'clock and I'm here to relieve you. Look at this street, will you? Pretty much them juries made of it last night. Aye. He's oddly outstanding. Well, I'm best beginning on home now, but before the missus begins welling.

I'll walk a bit of the way with you, Henry. Thanks, Albert. Yeah, you mind the wreckage now, Henry? This won't relate much, but without it, we'd break our necks. Yeah, I'll hold me in a day, Albert.

Showing you a lot this way, will you? Oh, what's up? I'll kick something that was... It is. Blimey. It's a knife. All right. I'd like to clean it up a bit. Henry, look. The end of that knife.

What's blood red? All right. The endle seems to be carved out of some kind of stone. Looks like Ruby to me. How does it that? Look at the way it gleams and glitters, Henry. I've never seen anything like it.