Countdown for blast off. X minus five, four, three, two, X minus one, fire. From the far horizons of the unknown come transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space. These are stories of the future, adventures in which you'll live in a million could-be years on a thousand maybe worlds. The National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of Astounding Science Fiction presents X minus one. Tonight's story, Dr. Grimshaw's Sanitarium. What you will hear in the next half hour represents either a magnificent hoax or the true explanation of the famous Grimshaw sanitarium scandal which made the headlines back in 1947. The manuscript upon which this account is based was removed by the New York State Police from a fountain pen cover found in the doorway to Dr. Grimshaw's study. We offer this manuscript as evidence only. Whether it is authentic or not you must judge for yourselves. My name is John Doherty. I'm a graduate of Hamilton College class of 34, member of Theta Alpha. I'm one of those fools who wanted some excitement in life so instead of going to my father's shoe business I became a private detective. These are facts you can check them if you like. The rest of what I write here is so fantastic that I don't expect it to be believed. If anyone should find this manuscript and read it all I ask is that you notify Miss Millicent Armbruster of 299 Wallace Avenue Buffalo that Johnny Doherty is dead. On the evening of July 1st Miss Armbruster and I were driving to a wedding, not our own although I wish it had been. It was Sunday and in order to avoid traffic I took the old Mill Road, a single-lane dirt affair that runs past the Gawanda Cemetery. Johnny aren't you going too fast? Not for this road. There's nothing around except some tombstones and... Johnny, the gate to the cemetery. What about it? That hearse, look out! Look out! We skidded for about 20 feet and slammed into the back of the hearse. The two rear doors buckled and snapped open. It was a freak. A huge oak coffin with brass handles tipped up and began slowly to slide back toward us. Oh, how horrible. You stay right here baby. You okay Mac? You don't pay much attention to spade limits do you? Now look, let's not get hung up on who was right and who was wrong. I was going too fast and you were traveling without lights after dark. Let's see your driver's license. Right here. Private eye. If you don't mind who does this joy wagon belong to? Gawanda Funeral Service. It's being rented to Grimshaw. Who? Grimshaw from the private sanitarium. Mind if I ask what you were doing after dark coming out of a cemetery with a wooden kimono? We're moving one of Grimshaw's patients to a new grave. They always travel like this? Look Hawkshaw, how about skipping the third degree and giving me a hand getting this box back in the wagon? A pleasure. Better screw on that cover again it's gonna slide off. Let's get it in the hearse first. Okay junior you get on that end. Okay. You ready? Yeah lift. Just slide it. Oh brother who's in there King Kong? Look out for the cover. I told you that would happen. It's a guy's name junior. Oh why don't you ask him Sherlock Holmes? A real wise guy huh? I've got half a mind to report this accident. Well go ahead. See where it gets you. Now if you'll pardon me I'll deliver the body. Everything all right Johnny? I thought so until a few seconds ago. Listen Malik can you sit here in the car for another five minutes? Where are you going? For a stroll through the cemetery. Johnny stop making jokes. When we lifted that coffin back on the meat wagon I got a good look inside it. Yeah exactly how I felt. I figured we'd knock the stuffing out of the corpse only I didn't expect the stuffing to be sand. What? Yes that wasn't a body that was a dummy stuffed with sand a dummy with a wax face. Johnny! Which brings up an interesting question. Who's supposed to be in that box and just where is the dead man spending his time? Sometimes in my business when things drop off you have to go out and dig up new clients. My next case was a gentleman named Harlan Ward senior, a wealthy automobile manufacturer. I'd gotten his name off his son's tombstone. Are you trying to tell me darling that my son Harlan was never buried at Gowanah Cemetery? Exactly Mr. Ward. But why? Maybe if you'll tell me the circumstances surrounding your son's death I can help answer that. My son was a rather impetuous young man tall good-looking. After his graduation from Princeton he began drinking quite heavily. After he got into a couple of scrapes we sent him to Dr. Grimshaw's sanitarium in the hopes that he could be cured. While my wife and I were in Europe we received word that he died buried at Gowanah in our absence. Last week my wife and I decided to have his body removed to the family vault here at Short Hills. How'd your son die? Suicide. You never saw the body? No. We couldn't get back from Europe in time. Now you tell me that his coffin contains a dummy. How do I know this whole thing isn't a plan to fleece me? You don't. But you're a rich man Mr. Ward and you're perfectly willing to take a chance that I'm on the level and that your son may still be alive. You sound very sure of yourself Mr. Daldy. My fee is a $2,000 retainer plus expenses. What sort of expenses? However much it cost to take the cure at Dr. Grimshaw's sanitarium. Dr. Grimshaw's sanitarium was just outside Gowanah. Most of the cases were nervous breakdowns and alcoholics. I committed myself as a dip so and just to make it convincing I stopped at five or six bars on the way over. I was interviewed by Grimshaw himself a small man with a fringe of white hair. You understand Mr. Dorothy. That's not my real name of course social reason. We understand our paid clientele is very select and our rates are very high. You will be paid in cash and in advance Dr. Grimshaw. How long's the cure usually take? That of course depends on the degree of alcoholism. This is my assistant Dr. Boynard. How do you do? How do you do? We are accepting Mr. Dorothy as a patient better place him in the ward with Mr. Kay and Mr. Crakey. Mr. Kay is a long-term patient Mr. Dorothy. A highly intelligent man formerly a professor of plant pathology. Mr. Crakey suffers mild illusions. I think you'll find him rather amusing. After about three days my roommates Arthur Kay and Crakey got used to me and we even began to play three-handed bridge. Kay was a chronic dope addict an intelligent sensitive man. Crakey was nothing but a clown. He kept a big black cat named the professor which he talked to as if it were human. And so I said to her my dear Countess if you don't like the company of my cat then you don't like me. She looked at me as if I were insane. But of course the joke was on her because I was. Eh professor? The professor is very sociable excellent company. Except when he kills birds and deposits them in your bed he's nothing but a feline murderer as far as I'm concerned. Ah see you have insulted him Mr. Kay. Come here professor let's make friends. How about giving me your paw? Oh! Scratch me you black devil. You insulted him. You hurt his feelings. Well just keep him away from me. It will be a pleasure. I would advise you not to insult him again. Good afternoon and evening. Is he always as nuts as that? Ever since I've been here. What's his problem? Manic depressive and a little paranoid too. How long have you been here Arthur? Two years. I left for a while but I couldn't stay away from the junk so I committed myself again. Did you happen to know a patient here named Harlan Ward? Why do you ask that? Did you know him? I met him socially a few times. I understand he died here. So the newspapers said I wouldn't know. Suicide wasn't it? Was it? You're being pretty careful aren't you? Mr. Doherty what would you say if I were to tell you that I don't believe Harlan Ward is dead? What makes you so certain? He used to share this room with us. He slept in the same bed you now use. I see. He was an alcoholic doing quite well too from what I could observe. We all expected him to go home soon. Then one evening he had a violent fight with Cracky. Cracky accused him of snooping or something. Later that night Grimshaw and Voyner took him out. Where? Where they take all the special treatment cases to the charity clinic. It's that small building on the other side of the stone wall. A few days later we read about his death. Suicide they said. Does what makes you think he's still alive Arthur? This? About a month ago I was in the garden next to the wall that separates us from the charity clinic. Suddenly I thought I heard a sound like a child whimpering. It stopped and a moment later this note came over the wall wrapped around a stone. What's it say? Help me for God's sake Harlan Ward. Arthur how would you like to have some fun? Like what? Like sneaking out tonight and going over the wall to the charity ward. What do you say would break the monotony a little? I suppose there's no real harm in it. Of course not. I'd go alone but I'll need help scaling the wall. Will you do it? All right I'll go with you. All clear. Give me your hand and I'll lift you. Be careful when you drop. Ready? Go ahead. There's a charity building over there. The one with the lights in the basement. Come on let's crawl over maybe we can see something. Listen can you make out what he's saying? No I can barely hear. Good Lord. What was that? Probably some patient having the DT's. Let's have a look. Easy it wouldn't do to get caught now. See anything? Some sort of laboratory. I can see Grimshaw and Voin and something else. What? There's a child with its back toward me. It will all be oversouped. You won't remember anything. Why not give it to him? Good Lord. What was it? What did they do to that child? That wasn't a child. It was a midget. The smallest midget I've ever seen. What were they doing? Trying to give it some sort of injection when it resisted. Boinah knocked it out. Do you suppose they were doing to it? I don't know Arthur. All I know is that when it fell it had the face of Harlan Ward. All the way back to our room my brain was working like some frantic pinball machine. Only the score somehow wouldn't add up. The pieces were there all right. A crazy old doctor, a brutal assistant, a private sanitarium and a midget with a dead man's face. I thought that when I got back to our room I'd have some time to think about it. I'd forgotten about our friend, the happiness boy, Count Craky. Caught you. Fine you've caught us. Now how about crawling back into the woodwork like a good little count? Where were you? Mink hunting. Arthur and I like to go mink hunting at night. You make fun of Count Craky? I shall report you to Dr. Boinah. You'd better not if you know what's good for you. So you threaten me, me Count Craky? I shall scream for help. Help! Help! Did you hurt him? Just knocked him out. What do we do now? Put him to bed. Hope that when he wakes up in the morning he's forgotten the whole thing. And if he hasn't? He's too crazy for them to take seriously anyway. Come on let's get him back in a bed. I went to sleep in my own room and the next thing I felt was the sharp jab of the hypodermic needle in my left arm. Hold it. It'll be useless to struggle Mr. Dorothy. In a moment your motor nerves will be completely paralyzed. What's this about Grimshaw? I might ask the same of you. My good friend Count Craky informs me you and Mr. K decided to do some snooping earlier tonight. He followed you and saw you climb the wall. Craky's insane. Mr. Dorothy that is a matter of opinion. Craky what is this? Perhaps my assistant of the Grimshaw would be good enough to explain. Assistant? Yes. You see I am the actual head of the Grimshaw sanatorium. Count Craky feigns many delusions Mr. Dorothy but in this case he is telling the truth. Count Craky is actually Professor Ernst Hassler. Professor Hassler and I worked together in the Berlin Neurological Institute before and during the last war. Unfortunately my political affiliations with the Third Reich were under investigation by the War Crimes Commission. However Dr. Grimshaw managed to smuggle me into this country where I masqueraded as a mental patient in order that we might continue certain experiments which were interrupted by the American army. I can imagine the sort of experiments you conducted. You and your friend Mr. K will discover their exact nature very shortly Mr. Dorothy. It is a magnificent opportunity to serve science. I passed out and the next thing I knew I was coming to in a different room and hearing the voices of Wojna, Grimshaw and Craky is it from a great distance. The tuatrine. The tuatrine. Four ccs. Four ccs. Now the measurements. Reducing rapidly. We'll operate at once. Have Wojna start the anesthesia. Very well doctor. Come in. He came into the room with a bundle in his arms about the size of a newborn baby. The bundle was my friend Arthur K and worse yet I was exactly the same size that he was. Let me out of here. Let me out. Allow me to congratulate you gentlemen. How are you feeling? You dirty monster. I'm disappointed gentlemen. Do you not feel privileged to be a part of an experiment that will place me at the very top rank of the world's endocrinologists? What are you doing to us you madman? It has long been established gentlemen that dwarfism and giantism result from injury to or malfunction of the pituitary and thyroid glands. The interlock between these glands was thought to be a hormone. I have discovered that this was incorrect. It was an enzyme. An enzyme I isolated some years ago. I was well on the way to synthesis in Germany when the surrender interrupted me. The interruption also limited the number and type of subjects on whom I could experiment. I was forced to find others. Such as Harlan Ward? Mr Ward was only a control experiment. I suppose you plan the same for us. No gentlemen. For you I have reserved a special privilege. You gentlemen will be the first to test the full effects of the enzyme. In short, I intend that you Mr K and you Mr Doherty when the experiment is completed will emerge as perfectly healthy normal individuals. Except of course that you will be only five inches tall. The days and nights that followed were a living nightmare. A nightmare from which Arthur and I awoke for brief periods to find ourselves in a strange new world. A huge frightening world where everything seemed enlarged a hundred times. When we finally emerged we found ourselves imprisoned in a tiny mouse cage. Judging by the relative size of things we could not have been more than five inches tall. But we were able to find ourselves in a small cage. Judging by the relative size of things we could not have been more than five inches tall. Now we realize the experiment was at an end. That from now on it was either escape or be destroyed. How's it coming Arthur? Another moment. I think I'll have this lock. Worth loose. And if we escape then what? We'll worry about that after we get out of this mouse cage. Suppose we don't make it. At least you've written the story on that scrap of paper. Someone may find it and read it. Nobody will believe it. Then why did you bother to write it? I don't know. I suppose I want the world to know what happened to me. That does it. Help me push the door open. Now what? The first job is getting down to the floor. I think we can make it by sliding down the telephone cord. Are you game? Go ahead. I'm right behind you. Easy now. Look out. Oh, it's the door. That does it. Now if we can figure out a way to get out of the room. That should be. Uh oh. Listen. Somebody's coming. It must be Craky. We've got to hide. Yeah. The grate and the fireplace. He'll kill us if he finds us. Stay quiet. Well my friends, time for feeding. I trust that you are. So, you have managed to break out. It won't do, you know. There is no way you could have gotten out of the room with the door and window locked. I know you are in here. I would advise you to save yourselves trouble and give up. Very well my tiny friends. If you prefer to play the game of cat and mouse, then I shall be happy to furnish the cat. There is no way you can get out. What now? He's gone for the cat. If that monster ever gets in here, we're goneers. There must be. Wait a minute. What? Do you see that thin strand of wire running along the molding? What about it? It's the automatic fire alarm. When the alarm is tripped by a fire or short circuit, all the locks are sprung so that the patients can escape from their rooms. If I can short that wire, before Cricky lets the cat into the building, let's go. There's a tiny sliver of steel from the cage on the floor. I'll work with that. You keep an eye out of the door. Go ahead. This insulation is tough as raw hide. Hurry up Arthur, for God's sake. There it is. Stand away. I'm going to short it. Ready? Okay. There goes the door. Let's make a run for it down the hall. If we can get to the garden, we've got a chance. I smell smoke. The short may have actually started the fire. Come on. Wait a minute. I have to go back. The manuscript. Don't be a fool. There's no time. Come on. You go ahead. I'll catch up. I'll wait in the hall. Only a second. I got it. Come on. There's nothing to stop us now. Arthur, where are you? It's funny. Arthur? Arthur? Arthur, what's happened to you? Meow. Meow. Meow. This is the record found in a fountain pen cover in the burned out hallway of Dr. Grimshaw's sanitarium. There's nothing to add, except that the fire which destroyed the sanitarium and killed so many of its occupants, including Dr. Grimshaw and Dr. Wojna, was definitely of incendiary nature. It is believed by the fire chief that some small creature, possibly a mouse, chewed the insulation off the wire and short-circuited the system. The two patients, John Doherty and Arthur Kay, vanished completely after the fire, and their remains were never found. Whether the manuscript which you have just heard is authentic, or whether it was the work of one of the more demented inmates of the sanitarium, we leave to your judgment. You have just heard X minus one, presented by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of astounding science fiction. Your announcer, Fred Collins. X minus one was directed by Fred Way and is an NBC Radio Network production. X minus one.
