Ep0001 | "Old Ones are Hard to Kill"

EG Marshall (0:04)

And now, here's Act One of The Old Ones Are Hard to Kill. It begins with a stethoscope, a blood pressure reading, an electrocardiogram, and an altogether satisfying report on the health of Mrs. Ada Canby.

Leon Janney (0:23)

Well, I can't see a thing to complain about, Ada.

That little congestion you had last time has all cleared up. All in all, I'd say you're doing fine.

Agnes Moorehead (0:31)

For a woman my age, you mean.

Leon Janney (0:34)

The older the chicken, the tougher it is to kill. That's what my grandmother used to tell me, and she lived to be 98

Speaking of relatives, you seem much older.

Agnes Moorehead (0:46)

My grandson, oh, the usual once a year visit, and he always comes up with the same complaint. That I shouldn't be living all alone.

Leon Janney (0:56)

Oh, that big house of yours must get pretty lonely sometimes.

Agnes Moorehead (0:59)

Well, the truth is, Dr. George, I'm not alone there.

Leon Janney (1:03)

You're not?

Agnes Moorehead (1:04)

I decided to take in the border last month.

Leon Janney (1:06)

Really?

Agnes Moorehead (1:07)

I hadn't written Walter about it. I'm sure he'd object to my taking in a stranger, but there's really nothing wrong with Mr. Paulson, except his health, maybe.

Leon Janney (1:20)

What's wrong with him?

Agnes Moorehead (1:20)

Oh, the poor man's had a terrible cold for the past two weeks. Won't let me do a thing for him, though.

Leon Janney (1:27)

Well, now, where did you meet this Mr. Paulson?

Agnes Moorehead (1:29)

He answered the ad I ran. He's just back from South America. Been living in Brazil for years. He's a very nice gentleman, really.

He keeps himself and tins his birds. He has the loveliest blue parakeets. You can hear them tripping all over the house.

It's the friendliest song.

Leon Janney (1:51)

Well, I don't see anything wrong with what you're doing either. Just make sure you don't go and catch the man's cold.

Agnes Moorehead (1:58)

There's not much chance of that. Poor man hardly ever leaves his room.

SPEAKER_4 (2:03)

Well, how much do I owe you?

Leon Janney (2:06)

I'll send you the bill.

Agnes Moorehead (2:07)

I'm sure you'll forget all about it. No!

SPEAKER_4 (2:29)

Are you all right?

SPEAKER_5 (2:33)

I'm all right.

Agnes Moorehead (2:35)

That cost some missing out to me. Why don't you let me fix your little hot milk and honey?

SPEAKER_5 (2:42)

Thanks very much. I'm going to try to get some sleep.

Agnes Moorehead (2:46)

Well, all right, if you say so. I guess it's time I was in bed myself.

I wonder if he keeps his birds away too.

SPEAKER_5 (3:09)

Mrs. Candy, please, please.

Agnes Moorehead (3:11)

For God's sake, is he calling me? He is calling me.

SPEAKER_4 (3:17)

I'm coming, Mr. Paulson.

Agnes Moorehead (3:20)

Oh, no, where are those non-flippers?

SPEAKER_4 (3:23)

I'll be right there. What's the matter?

Agnes Moorehead (3:37)

Why didn't you tell me you were so sick? I would have called a doctor.

I know a very good doctor.

SPEAKER_4 (3:46)

So I'm only this afternoon.

Agnes Moorehead (3:48)

I'll go and call him right now. Well, I've got to get help for you, Mr. Paulson.

Do you want to preach?

SPEAKER_4 (4:00)

Is that what you want?

SPEAKER_5 (4:01)

Richardson murdered ten years ago. Murder.

I killed him for money. I was paid. Did you hear me?

SPEAKER_4 (4:13)

Mrs. Paulson, do you know what you're saying?

SPEAKER_5 (4:16)

Do you understand me?

Agnes Moorehead (4:24)

Let me get help, and you can tell them yourself, Mr. Paulson, and the police and the doctor.

SPEAKER_5 (4:30)

You tell them, please. Tell them to free Lindell.

Tell them I'm the one who killed Richardson ten years ago.

SPEAKER_4 (4:39)

I don't know anything about such things, and I know what I know.

No, I don't want to hear it. Please don't tell them. Mrs. Paulson, I...

Agnes Moorehead (4:57)

Oh, God, I think it's gone.

I suppose they miss poor Mr. Paulson. I'll lay them in his room. Well, let's see about this letter now. Dear Walter, I hope you don't mind my turning to you for advice, but I really don't know what to do. It's been three days since my border, Mr. Paulson, passed away, and I still haven't told the police what the man said to me. I just can't bring myself to get mixed up in anything like this. Ah, dear, what's the use of writing, Walter? You'll probably think I've dreamed it all up. How do you forget such a thing?

Dear God, what if it's all true? And Lindell is innocent? Only, well, who are they? I wonder if it's a telephone book. Well, well, why not?