Alfred Hitchcock: Alfred Hitchcock Presents: 16 Skeletons From My Closet

I glared at him. "Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It's all the money I have in the world. I won't pay another cent."

"It isn't the money. I just don't know if I ought to go through with it."

I opened the suitcase. "Look at it, Henry. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Do you know what that much money can buy? You can make yourself dozens of time machines. You can gold-plate them. You can set jewels in them."

He still held back.

"Henry," I said severely. "We made a bargain, didn't we? You can't go back on that."

Henry finally sighed. "I suppose not. But I still think I'm making a mistake."

I rubbed my hands. "Now let's get down to my car. You may blindfold me and drive me to your place."

"Blindfolding won't be necessary now," Henry said morosely. "As long as you're getting the time machine you'll be able to find out who I am and where I live anyway."

How true. Henry was doomed.

"But I will search you," Henry said.

The ride to Henry's garage seemed interminable, but at last we were inside. Henry fumbled with the keys to the next room and I almost yielded to the urge to snatch them from him and do the job myself.

Finally he had the door open and switched on the overhead light.

The machine was there. Beautiful. Shining. And now it was mine.

Henry took the vital control unit out of his pocket and threaded it into place. He took a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. "These are the directions. Don't lose this paper or you might become stranded somewhere in time. Better yet, memorize them."

I took the sheet out of his hands.

"You may not get the exact date you want at the first try," Henry said. "Because calendars have been changed and besides, once you get back more than five hundred years, you'll find all sorts of errors in history. But you can approximate the time and then use this fine tuner over here in order to pinpoint…"

"Stop your babbling and get out of here!" I snapped. "I can read directions as well as anyone."

Henry was a bit miffed, but he left the room and closed the door.

I got into the chair and read the typewritten directions. They were absurdly simple. But I read them again and then put the paper in my pocket.

Now, where would I go?

I studied the controls.

Yes. I had it. The New Year's Eve party at the Lowells. Diana had disappeared at ten-thirty and I hadn't seen her again until two A.M. of 1960. She had never given me a satisfactory explanation for her absence.

I adjusted the time control and the direction knob. I did not know the exact distance to the Lowells from this point, but I would use the fine tuner directly under the mileage dial once I got underway.

I hesitated a moment, took a deep breath, and then pressed the red button.

I waited.

Nothing happened.

I frowned and pressed the button again.

Nothing.

I took the slip out of my pocket and feverishly reviewed the directions. I had committed no errors.

And then I knew! The entire thing had been a hoax!

I leaped out of the chair and rushed to the door.

It was locked.

I pounded with my fists and called Henry's name. I cursed and shrieked until my voice was hoarse.

The door remained closed.

I managed to get some control over myself and darted to the time machine. I wrenched loose a section of the chair piping and returned to the door.

The piece of pipe was aluminum and fiendishly light and malleable. It took me more than forty-five minutes before I managed to force the pins out of the door hinges and get out of the room.

I found an envelope under the windshield wiper of my car and tore it open.

The typewritten pages were, of course, intended for me.

My dear Mr. Reeves:

Yes, you have been thoroughly hoaxed. There is no such a thing as a time machine.

I suppose I could leave it at that and allow you to go mad attempting to arrive at some reasonable explanation, but I shall not. I am quite proud of my little project and would like the attention of a truly appreciative audience.

I think you will do nicely.

How did I manage to know those interesting details of your last four murders?

I was there.

Not in the time machine, of course.

You are undoubtedly aware that it was not your urbanity, your charm, which attracted Diana to your hearth. She married you for your money — of which you gave indications of having a lot.

But you were extremely reticent about the extent and source of your wealth — an evasion which unquestionably can drive a woman to desperate curiosity. Especially a woman like Diana.

She had you followed and for the purpose employed a detective agency. Shippler, I believe the name was. They are quite thorough and I recommend them highly.

It was indeed fortunate for you — and certainly now for Diana and me — that you did not choose that particular time to commit one of your murders. But it was during one of your periods of unemployment and you were not followed for long. A week.

The reports concerning your activities were mundane, but Diana did fasten on one particular repeated detail they contained. And details are so important.

Every day you went to a rented box at the main post office.

Now why would you want a private box? Diana wondered. After all, you do have a home address and that should be sufficient for ordinary mail. Ordinary mail. That was it. This wasn't for ordinary mail.

It was child's play for Diana to get an impression of your box key while you slept and to have a duplicate made, for her use.

She made it a practice to go to your post office box each morning — you go there in the afternoon. Whenever she found a letter, she removed it, steamed it open, read the contents, and returned it to the box in plenty of time for you to pick it up the same day.

And so you see it was possible for her to know the details of your negotiations to murder, when the murders were scheduled to be committed and the places where they were to occur. And that made it possible for me to be there early, conceal myself, and watch you work.

Yes, we've known each other for some time — meeting discreetly — very discreetly. Diana remembers a Terence Reilly and his sudden disappearance. And as an added precaution — since we were on the verge of acquiring a quarter of a million dollars and wanted nothing to prevent that — we have not seen each other for almost a month.

Our original plan had been only blackmail. But again the question of danger arose. How long could I blackmail you and get away with it?

And so we determined to strike once and get all of your money.

At the moment you are reading this, Diana and I are increasing the distance between you and us. The world is a large place, Mr. Reeves, and I do not think you will find us. Not without a time machine.

And how did I manage that time machine?

It was an elaborate hoax, Mr. Reeves, but with two hundred and fifty thousand dollars at stake, one can afford to be elaborate.

When you left me alone with my time machine ten days ago, Mr. Reeves, I turned on two devices concealed above the room. One created noise and the other created wind.

And then I quickly folded the time machine.

You have no doubt by now noticed that it is extremely light. And if you will look again, you will discover that there are a number of concealed hinges which allow one to fold it into a compact shape.

Then I removed the grate of one of the "ventilators," pushed the collapsed machine through into the small cubicle behind the wall, followed into the cubicle myself, and pulled the grating back into place behind me.

I watched as you re-entered the room, Mr. Reeves, and I allowed you only thirty seconds of astonishment before I turned on the noise and wind machines again. I did not want you to collect your wits and examine the room.