Welcome to the shadows.

Old stories line the shelves of our dusty archives.

Stories, dreams, mystery. stories line the shelves of our dusty archives stories dreams mystery horror we would

like to bring one of our early radio tales back to life during this half hour

hmm let's see.

Ah, here's a whole alcove devoted to Edgar Allan Poe.

And in a section marked, old men.

Two stories.

One about an old man who just couldn't keep quiet. The other old man just couldn't be reached.

Let's hear about him first.

In the man of the crowd.

There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.

Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking

them piteously in the eyes.

Die of despair of heart and convulsion of throat on account of the hideousness of mysteries

which will not suffer themselves to be revealed. Now and then, alas, the conscience of man takes up a burden so heavy in horror

that it can be thrown down only into the grave.

And thus, the essence of all crime is undivulged.

Not long ago, about the closing in of an evening in autumn, I sat at the large bay window

of a coffeehouse in London, peering through the smoky panes into the street, one of the principal thoroughfares of the city.

As the darkness came on, the throng momentarily increased.

Two dense and continuous tides of population were rushing past the door.

...