Good evening, friend. This is your host to welcome you through the creaking door into the inner sanctum. Come in, come in. I've been reading my fan mail. Huh? Oh, sure, I get lots of it delivered in a hearse every morning. One lonely heart writes, Despite your sinister voice, you strike me as a fine gentleman in the home body. I am companionable, good-natured, unmarried, And I've been hardly dead a year. Won't you please exchange photographs signed? Lonesome. Did somebody say the lady spook out of turn? Tonight's inner sanctum mystery, the Devil's Fortune, was written by John Robert and stars Carl Swenson in the role of Tracy with Charles Irving as McNamara. And now for tonight's chaos. In the deep hinterland of Mexico on the ground level over a mineshaft, a ceremony is being performed by a frightened group of men, a ceremony of fear. Drums beat and a roaring fire licks at the night sky. Underground in the mine called El Fortuna Diablo, the Devil's Fortune, Floodwaters rise slowly to choke off all life in the shaft. Clinging to the elevation of a ledge, trapped and at bay, where the water's lapping at his ankles is a young man. His expression is desperate as he fires a gun into the subterranean shadows at an unseen target. Give me a break!   Choose the way I want to die. Mac will get me even if it costs him his own life. Mac happened to me in a furnished room across the border in El Paso. I came out of a stupor one morning, opened my eyes blarely, and there was big Mac sitting on a chair. Hey, who are you, mister? Never mind, kid. Right now you're more interested in the third man in the room. Third man? Over there, propped in the corner, with a knife stuck in his chest. Recognize him? Yeah, sure. Coombs. We were making the rounds together last night. Who killed him? You did. Check the knife. See if it's yours. I'll give you the details, kid. At about 2 a.m. you got into a quarrel with Coombs outside the Hotel Navajo. I happened to be around, taking it all in.  You were stewing over your hard luck. You took it out on Coombs. It's hard to believe to take the corpse's pulse and then believe it.  Why? To give you a choice.  We'll dump Coombs somewhere and then the two of us push on into the interior of Mexico. Is it a deal? Why are you helping me? What's in it for you, Mr.... McNamara.  I need a crack mine engineer that I can trust. Your knife in Coombs means I can trust you anytime, anywhere. We dumped Coombs and two days later we were 500 miles inside Mexico. Matt? Yeah? I've been thinking. That story that you palmed off on me about Coombs. You stuck that knife in him. Maybe, but you'll never be able to prove it now. Matt, you're crazy. And you're soft, soft and sentimental. The world's an anthill. Knife in Coombs was like stepping on an anthill. Get tough, Tracy. Think big. How big? This big. I've got a map here. Read off the name. El Fortuno Diablo. An abandoned gold mine just outside a native village called Alicante. All boxed in and boarded up. Hasn't been worked in 20 years. A fortune's been laying around begging for takers. Well, why hasn't anybody worked in mine? Fright. They're all petrified with fright. From the owner, a chump named Parento, right on down the line to everybody in town. There's a legend about the mine that scares them. The devil is supposed to make his headquarters there. The map is spotted with blood. Whose blood is that, Mac? The chump who had the map previous to me. Called himself Klondike. He lay there drooling over the map, whispering to himself about El Fortuno Diablo. Week in and week out, month after month. I listened to Klondike whispering to himself. Lay there. Lay where, Mac? I had to break his hand open to get the map out of his fingers. Where were you, Mac? I'll tell you sometime, Tracy. Sometime when you get out of line, maybe you'll wish I hadn't told you. We reached Alicante, a bleak backward village, where civilization came trickling in slowly by donkey cart over narrow mountain passes. From here on, kid, watch me operate. How are you going to get El Fortuno Diablo? Steal it. We steal the mine from a senior Parento, that owner I told you about. It's all fixed. Tonight, Parento's being told the hood who was off the mine, and that he's a dope not to cut me in as a partner and start operating El Fortuno Diablo full blast. Who's telling all this to Parento? The one guy he'll listen to and believe. What passes for the village wise man in these parts? A joker named Montesano. Montesano has this town organized, like Al Capone used to operate in Cicero. Everybody's scared not to listen to Montesano. Why will Montesano play ball with you? A gun in his ribs and 500 bucks in his palm. Just you watch how Montesano plays ball. I watched Montesano bat a home run for McNamara. We were in a room with Montesano, Parento, and a sharp-nosed fella named Salvador. Salvador acted as a sort of bodyguard, advisor, and local technical expert to Parento. You will work the mine, Parento. You and the senior McNamara. What, they're legende del diablo. The curse is no more. When your father was killed, he put the 20-year curse on El Fortuno deablo. And now the time is over. By the man, they will not work the mine. In all alacante, I can find nobody to work the mine. You will tell everybody in alacante, and in the mountains, that Montesano say it is good to work the mine. Machinery trickled in by cart over the mountain passes. Fearful workers grumblingly responded to Montesano's call. The shafts were rebuilt. The mine began operating. The end of the first week, McNamara played his trump card. He stole the mine. It was Sunday, the day of. Parento and his man, Salvador, had just left a conference with Mac. Mac was laughing. The kind of laugh that meant he was grinding his heels into an ant hill again. Happy days, Tracy.  Oh, my old Tracy. Take a gamble at this. It's a contract for purchase. For a dollar and other valuable considerations, Parento signs the whole mine over to Mr. McNamara. Parento signed this? Yeah, he did. But he thought it was worth it. I pulled the old document switch on him. Mac, that's an outright steal.  He'll never get that chance, Tracy. Mac, what are you up to with Parento? Parento and his stooge, Salvador, have just gone into the mine for an administrative look around. At my suggestion.  You know what? At my suggestion. And, Tracy, I've got a hunch they're going to meet up with that L. Diablo. Mac, what have you done? Those other valuable considerations I gave Parento. They were a couple of lunchboxes, packed nice and appetizing, with chicken sandwiches and hot drinks. In just one minute, I'm going to pull the steam whistle cord so that Parento and Salvador get the idea that it's noontime and they're hungry. Minutes up. Mac, what's the connection? What have lunchboxes done? Mac! Now you're smartening up, kid. The box is open on a wire like a booby trap.   Raise chump. This is a gun in your ribs. If you're itching to throw in with Parento and Salvador... Mac! Parento and Salvador got hungry. Now we're really in the mining business, Tracy. Baked. When the bodies came out of L. Fortuno Diablo, Mac and I were out walking. The idea was the Sunday explosions happened mysteriously while we were away. That night at the hospital I talked to the local doc. Yeah, poor Parento. We didn't even find enough of him to make a decent burial. Oh, blown to bits. And Salvador? Well, with Salvador it was a miracle, Senior Tracy. Salvador lives, but not his face.  Just like his mind, poor Salvador left his face behind him in El Fortuno Diablo. Parento blown to bits in Salvador with his head swallowed in bandages. Mac Nomara's master plan was going great. Now the mine worked full blast around the clock, day and night. Montesano was on hand when needed, telling everybody the hex was off, keeping the men in line for Mac. The men were working overtime, but so was the accident emergency bell connecting the shaft to the shack we supervised them. The bell meant an injury or a worse. Tracy, if it's another casualty, I'll fry somebody in oil. We're running a mining operation at a hospital. It wasn't a hospital case this time. It was a case for the coroner. In the mine shaft, face upward, with his eyes fixed and unwinking, lay a miner, Miguelito. He let out a cry and dropped to the ground. I leave a thousand onions and they never forget Miguelito's cry. What killed him, Tracy? Well, nothing apparent, Mac. No wound, nothing. Shock, I'd say, from the look on his face. It was El Diablo. El Diablo come before Miguelito.  I see horror. Not that line of talk, Manuello. You're scaring the men. The scared men don't mind gold. See, your McNamara is true. It was the devil who come before Miguelito. See, looked there to the ground. Diablo left his footprints. We looked, and there, clearly defined in the soft dirt, was a print. A hoof print. Mac, it's a hoof. It's a cloven hoof.  Miguelito had a heart attack, men. He was just a kid, not up to being a miner. Now everybody back to work. The men went back to mining for gold. And the emergency bell kept ringing. Tracy. Yes? Go fetch that Alicante wise man. Tell Montesano the men need another spiel about how the devil has called it quits in the hood who's off the mine. Has the devil called quits, Mac?  I'm here to mine gold.  How do you explain the four murdered men, then? Bad hearts, the 24-hour shift. Maybe the men got to brawling among themselves down there.  Now what? That's the fire bell. Fire, Mac. Another omen of disaster. Your gold mine is going up in smoke. The mine was a raging inferno. Mac ran around like a wild man, barking orders working with superhuman energy. Where will I get that equipment going? Beat the fireman and I'll double everybody's pay. You let the fire get out of control and lose the mine, and I'll sing every living one of you farewell lullaby with this. Mac was threatening them with a sample submachine gun spray. He meant mass murder and the men knew it. Now you're slowing up, man. Maybe a little music will give you more inspiration. It was an impossible task, but the men got the fire out. Tracy. Yes? About those hoof prints around the mine. The cloven hoof. I've been giving it a lot of thought. I thought those things didn't bother you.  They bother me another way. To me, it's a gimmick, and I get nervous because I can't figure out how a gimmick operates. A gimmick? I don't get you. We'll take a walk tonight, the two of us, and I'll show you what I figured out. I've been playing timekeeper to the devil for a week now, clocking them in and clocking them out. We took that walk with a wind at our back. We hauled up outside a deserted mudhouse located halfway between El Fortuno Diablo and the town. According to my timepiece, the devil is two minutes late. Mac, you're not making sense. Now, have yourself a look at the devil, Tracy. The devil was walking stealthily toward the door of the mudhouse. He looked just like Manuelo had described him, black from head to foot, just rising from his skull and feet formed into hooves. We watched him enter the house. Tracy, you've seen the devil before your time. Now we scram as quiet as we can get. Mac, what does it mean? It's a gimmick, and a smart cookie's got a monopoly on it.  I watched Capone work that gimmick in Cicero once. I'm being sold protection. But who? One guest, chump. Montessano. Yeah, Montessano and his costume getup. Montessano tells the men the hex is off El Fortuno Diablo for a fee, and then scares them all over again and gets me to cough up some more. And you're letting them get away with it? They're not leaving, letting them on yet. I like a man who thinks big, like friend Montessano. Besides, the men listen to him. And I'm still here to mine gold. Mac was there to mine gold one way or another at any cost. But he wasn't going to get any gold. What's the story of the sampling, Tracy? You're not getting any gold. All El Fortuno Diablo has for you is this. Salt. You haven't got a gold mine, Mac. You've got a salt mine. You keep the report under your hat, Tracy. Mine operations will go on exactly as they are. It's crazy. The salt isn't worth the transportation. We're not mining salt. We're mining for gold. Mac, there isn't a grain of gold I think. We're mining for gold, Tracy. For a year I lay on my back watching Klondike gruel over that map, listening to him whisper about El Fortuno Diablo. For a year, scrapped down tight so I couldn't move a muscle or wiggle a finger. But I could use my ears, Tracy, and my brain. We're mining gold. Gold, Tracy. You lay on your back, Mac, scrapped down. Where were you laying on your back? You really want to know. Yeah. I told you once that maybe sometime you'd wish I hadn't told you. It was in the Meadowbrook Hospital for the criminally insane. We were to continue mining for gold. A madman was intent on mining gold even if there wasn't any gold. A killer with the delusion that he'd picked up in an insane asylum was insisting on operations as usual. And the emergency bell rang as usual. Say, yo, Tracy, just now El Diablo was in the mine with my own eyes. Who got it this time? Matesano. El Diablo came up to the great Matesano. I strangled him. Matesano. It's impossible. Matesano was your Diablo. Señor, what are you saying? I don't know. I don't know anything. Manuel. Si, señor. If you value your life right into the first town you can find that has anything like a police force, get them here. Drag them here. For what reason, señor? McNamara is a crazy, cold-blooded murderer. You've all been working yourselves to death digging for gold in a salt mine. You're all his prisoners. And any minute, we'll all be his victims. Now hurry, Manuello. Hurry. Si, señor, Tracy, si. Manuello didn't get far. Max stopped him outside. Then he came after me. I ran in panic into the mine. Here, in a trap. The waters are rising. Max around an L somewhere in the tunnel waiting in ambush. And I have got a choice. Drown or meet Max Bullard's head on. You may see your time's running out. Max, I've got a way to live. You blabbed to Manuello when he spread the word. I told you I came here to mine gold. And you blabbed to Manuello. There isn't any gold! I worked my straps free at Metabook. This triangle clown died to get that map. I shot up a Kansas bank to get the money to buy mine. Oh, that's so I could mine gold. You hear, Tracy? Mine gold! The map! It's a trick. It's a trick to lure me out. Max shot into the air to confuse me. He's there behind an L where I can't see him in ambush. Held the orbital. It's the devil standing there. Like Manuello described, you're black from head to floor with horns rising from his skull. How many devils are there around here? First Montesano? Not you. Montesano is a faker. To see his trivia hit too many things. Kill many men. I have come to know, senor, that there is no Diablo. No devil?  But I am real, senor. Behind this face, I am Porento. Porento? They couldn't even find enough of you for a decent burial. For Salvador, they could not find. In the hospital, the doctor agreed that Porento will drive the devil from El Portuno Diablo. And the police agree Porento will be their deputy. You killed Montesano and McNamara? Yes, senor. What is so funny, senor? McNamara. I was thinking of Matt's master plan. He never figured that booby trap he planted in your lunchbox would blow up in his face. A porter in a gold buying service once swept this crack into a refuse pile. Many a body loses his mind. Good thing Tracy came out of it all okay. What do you bet when he comes out of shock he puts his diploma into ha. The way Matt framed him, I'd say Tracy was more engineered than engineered. So Montesano, the al Capone of Alicante, got his unexpectedly. The only thing he'll collect from now on is dust. Inner sanctum has been brought to you through the facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education.