This is Orson Welles speaking from London. The Black Museum. Here in the grim stone structure on the Thames which houses Scotland Yard is a warehouse of homicide. Where everyday objects, objects like a sugar bowl, an ashtray, a portable radio, all are touched by murder. There's a hammer. A hammer, that's a familiar object. Everybody's used one at some time to drive a tack, a poor nail, or loosen a window sash, or what have you. Nearly everybody has at one time or another taken part in a conversation like this. Big pardon, ma'am, could you pass me my hammer? Your hammer? Oh yes, yes, of course. Ah, thank you, ma'am. You're not going to use that hammer on the tiles over my fireplace. No, ma'am, not on the tiles over the fireplace. Well today, a hammer, an ordinary hammer, but with a very strange story attached to it, can be found in the Black Museum. From the annals of the Criminal Investigation Department of the London Police, we bring you the dramatic stories of the crimes recorded by the objects in Scotland Yards Gallery of Death, the Black Museum. Music Here we are, the Black Museum, Scotland Yards Museum of Murder. Yes, within this room is proof that anything and everything may be part of homicide. As here lies death, death entombed in glass, death on endless shelves, murder on exhibition, tabulated, indexed, guarded, filed. Here's a length of wire, wireless antenna, sleek, shining, coppery, designed to bring pleasure to the human ear. This wire missed the ear, instead it was wrapped around a soft, white neck, twisted, twisted. Perfect garotte. Here's a cigarette lighter, it's dainty, jeweled, monogrammed, stolen from its proper owner, and then flicked, lighted, applied to no cigarette. The victim had a bad heart, who was to know this. Question, was it murder? Answer, yes. Ah, here we are, it's the hammer. It's a claw hammer with two curved blades designed for pulling nails. It's heavy, well balanced, perfect tool. One Saturday morning it rested in a canvas bag. The owner rang a doorbell in Oxford. Oh, oh dear. Sorry ma'am, did I take you by surprise? Well yes, you see, I was expecting a friend of mine, and well, to see a young man standing there when you're expecting an elderly lady. Nothing to take amiss ma'am, my cart. Oh, oh thank you. James Knight, house repairs while you wait. Oh, well, thank you, but there's nothing wrong with my house. Ha ha, that's what everybody says, only I don't mean the house itself, I mean the household, furniture and the like. It's the little things gets people talking. Well I'm sure I don't need anything done. Now you take your door mat ma'am, right there, look along the edges, the binding's going. Notice it now, a stitch in time as the saying goes and you'll not be needing a new mat in six months. Well I do declare, you're right. Now ma'am if you'd just let me check your house, I'd be willing to bet I'd found a dozen little items. Cost you a few pence now, help me to earn my living and save you pounds later. Now, can I come in ma'am? Thank you. You are a smooth talker, aren't you young man? Oh I need to be in my business. Now if you'd just show me your living room. Through the port, yeah, right there. Yes, a very nice room, blends with your personality if I may say so. Well then, right to work, tools down. Well we'll just look about. I'll bet anything you want I'll find a dozen things need fixing. Now he's inside, he notes the room. He's well aware of the brass crucifix on the mantel shelf. The prissy draperies at the windows, the Andamacases on the mahogany framed horse-hair chairs. It's almost a museum. Now you take this chair man, the legs loose, bound to be. The glue dries out, the wood shrinks, you know. Well I never noticed it. Ah you wouldn't ma'am, takes an expert's eye. A drop of glue today saves a new chair tomorrow. And they don't build furniture like this nowadays. No, I dare say they don't. Oh dear, that's my telephone. No one to answer it. Well the girl who stays with me has gone to the country. Bank holiday weekend, she won't be back till Monday night. Well you just answer it, I'll be all right. Oh beg pardon ma'am, could you pass me my hammer? Your hammer? Oh yes, yes of course. Ah thank you ma'am. You're not going to use that hammer on the tiles over my fireplace. Oh no ma'am, just tap them with the wooden handle, see if they're loose anywhere. Or you can trust me ma'am, you just answer your telephone. Oh dear yes, of course the telephone. Hello? Why Caroline? Mrs. Golden, that's her name, answers the telephone. The young man in the living room front room to Mrs. Golden, taps the tiles merrily. And then he stops. He looks around, looks at things and quickly in a few things. He shuts the desk just as... Oh dear, this is a disappointment. Something's wrong with my friend's card, she can't come for me after all and it is such a nice day. Oh that is too bad. But not too inconvenient. Now I can really get some work done. Oh? You found a lot of things to repair. About fifty pounds worth. But you said only a few pence today. That was earlier. Now it's going to cost you fifty pounds to get me out of this house. I... I don't understand. I think you do. You know, I know you had fifty pounds in the mail yesterday. You told a couple of your girlfriends and I heard about it. Now then, Grandma, hand it over. You get out of here. I'll call the police. Fifty pounds here. I will call. Don't try anything. I'm between you and the phone now. Now pay up Grandma or I'll have to beat it out of you. No you wouldn't. You couldn't. No. Put the hammer away. You heard me. I'm through asking now. Now where's the money? I didn't really get it. I was just boasting. Cut it. Put down that vase. Don't. Stay away from me. Keep away. Put it down. Throw it. Keep away. Keep away. Get... fight with me will you? You haven't had enough have you? Try this one and this one and this one. Bank holiday in Oxford. No one due home until Monday evening. Someone tried late Sunday. Wherever it was kept trying but only the bell sounded in the empty house. Empty? Was it filled with death? Monday morning a man somewhat younger but not much than Mrs. Goldwyn parked his middle class car in front of the house in Oxford. He had a worried expression on his face as he walked up the few steps and pressed the doorbell. Again he tried. No answer. Ran down the steps around the back. Knocked on the back door. Nothing. Nothing but the sound of his own fists beating the thin panels. Now he is upset. He peers in at the kitchen window. Finally he wraps his hand in his muffler as he's seen them do in the movies and punches a hole in the window. He reaches in, unlocks the window, lifts the sash and climbs in. Walks through the house toward the front. Silence. Save for his own strangely empty footsteps. At the portiers and the arch which lead to the living room he stops. Good heavens. What's this? It's... Oh it's... it's blood. Operator, please hurry. Put me through this cotton yard. There's... there's been a... my sister's been murdered. Well that's how it comes you know. First the bitter shock, the cry on the telephone, the hurried incoherent report and then the cars racing through the streets. Pulling up the man piling out, invading a once peaceful home. Mrs. Golden was your sister Mr. Bevan. That's right. I can't understand it Inspector. I just can't. I know how you must feel and you want to help us all you can. Of course, of course. Well then time is very often the essence. I'll have to ask you a few questions right away. I'll try to answer them. You told us you broke the back window yourself, right? Yes, that's right. When she didn't answer the phone Sunday evening I began to worry. I drove here this morning. The doors were locked and no one answered the bell. I... I broke in. I suppose I should have called a constable but I didn't... I understand. Tell me Mr. Bevan, did your sister have any enemies? Of course not. Pardon me Inspector. We found this under the crucifix on the mantel. It's fifty pounds. Thank you Sergeant. Apparently robbery was the motive. Mr. Bevan, do you happen to know where your sister would get fifty pounds? She had a small income. Perhaps the money was a dividend. Preliminary medical report Inspector. Go ahead Doctor. Death occurred about 48 hours ago. Make it Saturday in the morning. We'll tell more after the autopsy. Saturday? Two days start on us. Go on Doctor. She was struck on the head by a blunt instrument several times. A hammer, something of that sort. But the fellow was taking no chances. Her carotid artery was severed by something very sharp. That's why the blood. Whoever it was. Well it looks very professional the way the place was ransacked. We're nothing much here but shall we have a go at it Sergeant? Well they had a go at it the Inspector and the Sergeant. There's nothing in the woman's house. Not even a smudged fingerprint. But as Sergeant Marshall put it... I've seen this sort of thing before. Looks like a house to house canvasser to me Inspector. It has that familiar feel about it. Routine Sergeant. Routine. Door to door up and down the street. Questions, questions, questions. Did a canvasser call here Saturday morning Mum? Leave a card or anything? Do you remember anyone ringing the bell to leave a card Sir? Wanting to do repair work. Thank you Miss. Yes you've been quite helpful. Five houses up the street, five down the street. And strangely enough results. A bit too careful Mr Knight. Too careful Inspector? And too smart for himself. He left his card at all the houses on the street and this one in the middle he picked up the card before he left Saturday morning. Foolish. Bound to attract attention to himself. Knight. James Knight. It's familiar. Joe Knowles. His favourite alias is James Knight. Oh I remember now Sir. Two years in Dartmoor. Assault on battery on an elderly lady. Right. Well call for a car Sergeant. We may as well check the address on this card. Mr Knight. Oh yes. Used to live here. I see. Used to live here. Well been packed up and gone these two months now. Quiet sort of fella. Though I didn't cotton to him much. Thank you Mum. Thank you very much. Welcome I'm sure. Not two days behind Inspector. Two months. We're not doing too badly Sergeant. We know when and how he got in. We know how he committed the crime and we've got a good idea who he is. Not too badly Sergeant. No not too badly. But the Inspector forgot to mention the most important clue of all. The murder weapon. That self same hammer which can be seen today in the Black Museum. It looked like a long haul. Two months behind and no trace. Not a thing to place him in Oxford on the Saturday of bank holiday. The calling card's true but they might have been left any time. One confused witness would make any jury doubt the exact pinpointing of the date. Still the man had to be found. Scotland Yard began its long steady methodical routine. Circulate Knight's description from his prison record. Have prints made of his picture. Somebody will remember him somewhere. They always do. Somebody did. The landlord of a tavern in Oxford half a mile from the house where death had struck that Saturday morning. I remember that fella. Certainly do. You're sure now? Positive. Come in here. Looked like he needed a drink. Took two whiskies straight. One right after the other. Was carrying a tool bag of some kind I think. How long did he stay? Just till a bus stopped outside. He threw the price on the bar and hopped the bus real quick like. You happen to know where the bus was headed? Alesbury. No other bus stops right outside that door. A break in the luck. Alesbury. The town was investigated for all practical intents and purposes. Before long Inspector Graham and Sergeant Marshall were in the lobby of a small run down hotel talking with a combination desk or telephone operator. Do you remember Mr Knight Miss Marsh? Oh I do that. Of course he's not the kind I'd pay much attention to. But I remember him all right. Is he in trouble? Why do you ask? Oh well sort of. Well you know how it is. A man leaves here sudden like. After being in and out for a couple of months. Then a couple of fellas come looking for him. Well you wonder that's all. We're from Scotland Yard Miss. Oh then he is in trouble. Maybe, maybe not. We'd like a look at his room. I'll show you. Just one flight up. Davy watch my board I'm busy. This way gentlemen. An obliging girl Miss Marsh. Completely pass key. She ushered the men up the one stairway along the dim hall. She fitted the key. Let's go and open the door. There you are Inspector. Thank you Miss. Seems to have left a bit of baggage Inspector. So he has. This is Knight's isn't it Miss? Oh didn't I mention it? Oh he said he'd probably be back. So would I mind if he left his bag. Even though he didn't want to keep on with the room rent. So I left it here just in case he came back before we left the room. Nice of you. Open it Sergeant. Not locked. Well careless type of fellow. A new hammer. Nothing much else. Look around Sergeant. Look around. Yes Sir. Oh funny. This book Sir in the bag. A dictionary. I dare say Knight isn't a book one. It's odd. It's a dictionary. Look a bit further Sergeant. Yes Sir. Anything familiar about this Miss Marsh? I was waiting for you to ask me Sir. It's mine. He borrowed it one night after he came in with the newspapers. Oh newspapers. Oh yes Sir. He was a great one for the papers. Especially the Globe News. He'd be in a fury if we didn't save one for him at the desk. I see. Did he do much writing up here? Well now that you mention it Sir he did. Lots of letters. Always to the papers. Do you suppose he wrote those Dear Editor things? No I doubt that. But I have a fair idea what he did write. Anything else Sergeant? Not a thing Sir. Clean as a whistle. Back to the yard Sir. Back to the yard? The Man's Hound. Hard indeed. A hammer which may be a murder weapon side by side with a dictionary. A possible killer writing letters to the Editor. Or were they letters to the Editor? Inspector tackle the hammer first. Canvass every ironmonger and hardware dealer in Oxford. Find out which carries this make of hammer. Check their sales slips for that particular Saturday. Try to jog the salesman's memories. Find out where that hammer came from. And then the dictionary. The newspapers and the mail. Do you ever look into the Globe News Sergeant? Sometimes Sir. I'm not much of a crossword puzzle fan myself. Yes Sergeant. Our Joe Knowles alias James Knight is obviously a crossword puzzle addict. I think we're due for a literary detail at the Globe News with samples of our friend's handwriting from his prison record. Hop to it Sergeant and keep your eyes open. It turned out to be quite a problem. 10,000 entries per week in the Globe News' puzzle contest with the average number. Not a pleasant prospect. Not at all. Stollardly the crew from the yard started to go through 10,000 puzzles checking against the photostatic copies of James Knight's handwriting. The second morning at the John. Inspector Graham here. Sergeant Marshall Sir at the newspaper. You found something Sergeant? Not in the file Sir. In the morning mail. From Brighton. An entry in the latest contest. Address 912 Leader Street. Name of John Kinder. But there's no mistaking the handwriting. They'll do it every time won't they? Joe Knowles, James Knight, now John Kinder. Yes Sir. I noticed. Always the same initials on the aliases. J.K. this time. Bring the puzzle and the envelope. I'll have him picked up in Brighton. 912 Leader Street you said? 912 Leader Street Brighton England. The order moved swiftly now on the teletype along the wires and the banks of the Thames across the North Downs and the South Downs to the famous resort city on the English Channel. Well, up in there. Quicken out please. No need for all the melodrama Sir. You were looking for me? Your James Knight. Also known as Joe Knowles and John Kinder. You ought to know Officer. Your wanted Knight. You'll have to come along. I have to warn you anything you see may be taken down and used in evidence against you. You did a good job Sultan. Picking him up so quickly. He came along with surprising quietness Sir. A fellow probably knows we've little to build a case on. Hello. What's this? Looks like a hole in the floor Sergeant. I know Sir. But there's four more in the floor Sir. Square holes. Now the floor is the ceiling of the room below. Oh. Who lives below Selden? That hand lady. Eccentric so. We warned her several times. She will keep her rent money in a jar on the mantelpiece. Oh that's why he watched her. That's your theory Sergeant. Well you can see every corner of that room Sir through these holes. And they're recent. Well the wood's still fresh and white Inspector. Square holes. Why? When you dig a hole with a chisel Selden you not only get a square hole you also can keep the shavings from falling in the room below. A chisel? Where would he have ditched it? Possibly through the window when you knocked. A chisel Selden is sharp enough to cut other things beside wood. A carotid artery for instance. So you prepared a statement Knight. Yes Inspector. I've been informed of the charge you may lodge against me. I'm told it entails a murder in Oxford on the Saturday of the bank holiday. That's correct. You'll find my movements for that day accounted for in my statement. It may be troublesome locating some of my witnesses but I doubt if you all have much difficulty. You were in that street in Oxford though. Oh yes. Oh yes indeed. Trying to make an honest living Sir. No doubt. Strange you fail to leave a card at Mrs. Goldins. I rang several times on my way up and down the street. No answer. Then you didn't push it under the door. No. Cards are expensive Inspector. I prefer to explain my business first and leave a card if there's any interest. You're having this taken down aren't you Inspector? You got all this Sergeant? Oh yes Sir. Then we'll enter Knight's statement in the record also. Yes Sir. I see no reason for holding me any longer. Do you Inspector? You'll be quite comfortable. No rent to pay Knight. Just until we check your alibi and find your witnesses. After that Knight well we'll see. All right Sergeant take this man back. The end of a trail. The suspect perfectly at ease, willing even slightly over willing. But they held him anyway. There are still some loose ends to tie up. One of those ends might be the key to the puzzle. One of those ends just might be the end of a hangman's noose. We've got a report on the hammer Inspector. At last eh? Where? How? An ironmonger in Oxford sold a hammer from his stock. Here's a sample. To a fellow answering Knight's description on bank holiday Saturday Sir. The sales slip is dated and the salesman is prepared to identify. The slip also includes a chisel. I see. Seems identical to the one we've had. What's this label? The salesman says it's all on this type. High class steel forging. Nothing on ours is there? Oh no Sir. Let's have a look in that release we found the hammer in Adele's. Yes Sir. An empty travelling bag. Just lint. A few tiny crumbs of something. It might have been dried dough or. Even bread crumbs Inspector. Or paper Sergeant. Would you pass me the sponge there? The one for sealing envelopes. I think there's enough water in the dish. Gently now Inspector. Moisten the tiny pellets of dough like substance on the glass top of your desk. Gently now. Roll them back and forth. Loosen them. Spread them out on the desktop. Slowly. Gently. Patiently. And then. We'd better have this photograph Sergeant. I doubt if we can preserve them for the trial. Yes Sir. We've broken his alibi. Knight was in Oxford that day. He bought the hammer. High class steel forging. He should have burnt this label Sergeant. Not merely crumbled it in this way. I do believe our careful Mr. Knight. Our clever cooperative Mr. Knight is going to be hung. And very shortly at that. Well today that hammer complete with its proper label can be seen in the Black Museum. Inspector Graham was right. The hammer plus the label did hang James Knight. His alibi was broken by the salesman in the hardware store in Oxford who sold him Knight that hammer on the Saturday. Mrs. Golden died. Inspector Graham needn't have worried about his case. No need you worry about the hammer in your kitchen drawer. If there is any moral to this story beyond the inevitable lesson that criminals are nearly always caught it's this. Be careful when you let in your house when you're alone to demonstrate a new gadget or even to fix your furniture. Your visitor might mean death. And now until we meet next time in the same place for another story about the Black Museum. I remain as always obediently yours.
