Doctor X Page #5

Now, listen, please, to what I have to say.

One of us in this room may be a murderer.

A murderer who killed

by the light of a full moon,

leaving his victim's body mutilated.

A cannibal.

Evidence shows the killer has two hands.

Therefore, only Wells is eliminated.

So I shall ask him to work the apparatus.

Wells? Wells? How about me?

A hopeless paralytic.

Silence, please, Professor.

Wells, will you take your place outside

in the recording cabinet?

Yes, Doctor.

I'm going to leave you for a moment now,

while I check the variability

of your blood reactions.

I suggest that you remain silent

during my absence.

Wells, the young quack.

Had him for an intern

before he could grow a beard.

If you ask me, I think Dr. Xavier

is using very unethical methods.

Necessity has no ethics, sir.

Gentlemen, I am now turning on

the 100-milliampere, high-frequency coil.

Your pulses are connected

with the magnetic rotators,

and each variation

of your heartbeat reaction

is amplified 4,000 times.

The rotor of the electrostatic machine

is connected in multiple series

with a bank of glass-plate condensers,

and the discharge causes irradiations

to the thermal tubes,

which, in turn, indicate your increased

pulse rate and nerve reactions.

We can proceed now.

One moment, Doctor.

Were the murdered women attacked?

Does your mind

never run into any other channel?

What do you mean by that statement?

I mean that your sadistic tendencies

may someday carry you too far,

Dr. Haines.

- You, you...

- Silence, gentlemen, please.

Now, it is my theory

that one of us in the past,

through dire necessity,

was driven to cannibalism.

The memory of that act was hammered

like a nail into the mind of that man.

Shrewd and brilliant, he could conceal

his madness from the human eye.

Even from himself.

But he can't conceal it from the eyes

of the radio sensitivity.

Every time his heart beats

from mental excitement,

the thermal tubes will betray him.

You are all now connected

with these tubes. I am myself.

But I alone know which tube is yours.

Your heart beats are being reflected

before you.

Doctor, I protest!

As the heart beats faster and faster,

so does that red liquid begin

to pulse and rise

until terror takes hold of the subject,

and the liquid rises

to the very top of the tube.

He whose tube does that is the guilty man.

Here are a line of wax figures,

lifelike reproductions of the pitiful victims,

people whose lives were snuffed out

and whose bodies were torn

to satisfy the desires.

First, a woman of the streets,

killed in the tenement district.

Her body found late at night in a gutter.

The next victim, a middle-aged woman,

killed just before dawn

as she was on her way to market.

Her bleeding body found under a dock

by the waterfront.

Then, a dope fiend,

strangled and mutilated

in the doorway of a dance hall.

Next, a beautiful young girl,

violently killed as she lay on a hospital bed

recovering from an illness.

Oh, I'm so afraid. I'm shaking like a leaf.

Keep quiet. Get ready.

Watch.

You're about to see reenacted

the murder of the killer's latest victim.

An old scrubwoman.

She's coming home from work. It's late.

A full moon shines down upon her.

She's passing through an alleyway

when suddenly a terrible figure steals out,

starts creeping towards her.

As old Annie stoops

to pick up a newspaper,

the figure suddenly takes her throat

in his powerful hands.

Get your hands off me, Otto.

You're hurting my throat.

- Turn on the lights!

- Someone's coming in the room!

Stop it, stop it, I can't stand any more!

Xavier, turn on the lights!

I can't get my breath.

- The lights!

- Look at that tube.

It's a success. The guilty man is...

The guilty man is Rowitz.

Rowitz. Look, what's happened to him?

- He's been murdered.

- Let me see.

What's the matter? What has happened?

Stabbed in the base of the brain.

Murdered like all the other

Moon Killer victims.

- Who was sitting on his left side?

- I was, but I didn't see anything.

I was watching the experiment.

Duke, you're walking!

I walked. You saw me.

You saw me, I walked.

I walked.

- You walked? You faker, you killed him.

- Quiet, Haines.

Don't you recognize

hysteria reaction when you see it?

- Otto, help him.

- Take it easy, Doctor.

You'll need all your strength

for your work tonight.

Wells? Where's Wells?

The contacts are broken.

Why doesn't he come in?

Take him to another room.

Wells! Wells!

Wells! Wells!

Wells!

Wells! What's wrong, man?

I don't know. The lights went out.

Someone called my name.

I started for the laboratory,

and someone struck me.

Oh, this is terrible!

Easy, now. Let me help you.

I will be all right in just a moment.

Watch your head.

Are you sure you heard

no one approaching the room

when we started the test?

No one. Nothing unusual happened

until I was struck.

Father, something terrible

has happened to Dr. Rowitz.

- I just saw him...

- Now, Joanne, dear, be calm.

Dr. Rowitz has met with an accident.

- I wish you'd go back to your room.

- He's dead?

You can't do anything here, Joanne.

It's best that you go back to your room.

- Your father will explain everything later.

- Now, come, Joanne. Come.

Doctor. Doctor.

- What is it, Haines?

- There's someone hiding in this closet.

What?

Another one? Who is it?

He's the young man

who was at the house today.

He fainted.

- Some water, Otto, quickly.

- Yes, sir.

I took the liberty of having

something on hand

- for just such an occasion, sir.

- Thank you.

Here, young man, drink this.

How's that, huh?

It's not bad. How much do you pay for it?

He's all right now.

What were you doing in that closet?

- Hiding.

- Who are you?

Lee Taylor, The Daily World.

You wouldn't give me a break,

so I had to take it.

- You're lying.

- Don't be absurd.

He is a newspaper man.

He's the one who printed

the story about you in yesterday's World.

I'm sorry. You see, I had to get the story.

I was hiding in there, and everything

was going great, when all of a sudden,

well, I guess I just fainted.

It's gonna be kind of tough if I have to lug

smelling salts around with me

the rest of my life.

Yes, well, newspaper man or not,

you're an impostor.

I don't like your methods.

I shall hand you over to the police.

- Otto...

- That suits me.

I'll phone my story in

from the police station.

- You'll phone no story.

- Father, let me talk to him, will you?

I can't let this story get out now.

It'd ruin everything.

But, Father, please let me talk to him.

Mr. Taylor.

Just in case.

- You're not gonna let him go?

- Certainly not. Otto, watch him.

Don't let him get near a phone

or leave this house.

Yes, sir.

Oh, no, no. I'm absolutely all right.

Now don't...

Don't you worry about me.

I gotta dash off to my newspaper.

- See, they won't wait.

- Mr. Taylor.

You don't have to report to the paper

what you've just seen, do you?

I'm sorry, but I've got to.

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