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The Price of Fear - Cat's Cradle · The Price of Fear Collection

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The Price of Fear, brought to you by Wilson's Price. Hello there,
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do you own a cat? Or rather, I should say, does a
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cat own you? Doesn't it strike you as strange that, despite centuries of
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domestication, cats have never really lost their independence, their ruthlessness. To cat's
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life is still the lower of the jungle. Just try taking liberties with your
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cat, be he never so tame, and you'll soon be put in your
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place. I've always had a healthy respect for cats. Bite that one time
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when I was forced to Oh, but let me tell you about it.
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I think I'll call the story Cat's Cradle. Several years ago, I was
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making a movie in Germany and there was some sort of hold up during shooting,
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a tiresome and boring state of affairs that happens all too often, and
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I found myself with some days on my hands, so I decided to visit
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some of the beautiful old castles of Bavaria. High on my itinerary was Sondeberg
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in Franconia, near the Wurtemberg border. Sonderberg tends to get overlooked by the
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main tourist trade, yet it is one of the most complete examples I know
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of a medieval market town which has survived comparatively intact. I checked in at
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one of the local hotels late one afternoon, and while they were getting my
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room ready, I sat down at one of the little tables near the door
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and ordered a drink, a large tankard of their local beer. Actually,
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at the next table sat a young couple whispering intently. But their voices were
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angry and out of control, and as I sat enjoying my beer, it
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was impossible not to overhear that they were deep in some childish kid. Beth,
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for God's sake, stop talking nonsense. How dare you say it's nonsense?
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It is nonsense, and you know it. I never even looked at
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the damn woman. I don't know how you can be so callous. Did
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you see how disgustingly fat she was? I tell you I didn't notice her
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at all. Liar, Oh shut up, Oh God, what a start
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to married life. Oh look, Beth, you're tired. I'm tired.
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It's all been a strain. Let's not say things will be sorry for let's
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have an early night. The next best thing to your German house. Brow
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For the last time, I didn't fancy if you're going to carry on like
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this every time I look at another woman. You'd better tear my ruddy eyes
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off. Ah, you admit you looked at her. Oh, for heaven's
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sake. The young man glanced uneasily in my direction, obviously wondering if I'd
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become an involuntary eavesdropper. Of course I had, and I certainly had no
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intention of making myself scarce. Isn't this a charming town? Yes, charming?
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Delightful? You on vacation, Yes, that is we. We're on
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our honeymoon. Oh are you? Are you? Indeed? Well, what
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an ideal place to spend it. We haven't exactly succumbed to its charms yet,
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we've only just arrived. Well, give it time. Sunderberg is a
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step back into the past. It takes a while before it's its charm begins
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to work. It's certainly quiet enough. I was here once years ago,
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and I always promised myself a return visit. Then it seemed like an oasis
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in a desert of insanity. Yes, I suppose so, except, of
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course, that Sunderberg has had its own fair share of horrors. You know
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WHOA that's good? What delightful beer? This is so refreshing. I do.
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Go on, please, But the castle do you see it? Up
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on that rock? Look through the window there, see, Well that was
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taken over as a headquarters for the Inquisition. Oh, the poor wretches who
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were incarcerated and tortured up there. I saw the castle as we drove in.
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It was beautiful, but it made me shudder. It's not surprising the
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Inquisition left several pleasant little mementos, all in as good as state of preservation
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as Sonderberg itself. You must visit the place while you're here, well,
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that is, if you're not squeamish. Squeamish. Look, I've got an
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idea. Why don't we join up and go round the castle together tomorrow?
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Well please do, unless that is you're already busy. Well no, but
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we'd love it, wouldn't we better, Yes, yes, of course we
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would. At first I couldn't understand the young man's enthusiasm. I mean,
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after all, a honeymoon is a honeymoon. Then it struck me that he
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needed a defense mechanism, and I would be there to guard him from the
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kind of row that I'd stumbled upon just now. Well, at any rate,
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we agreed to meet in the hotel lobby at ten o'clock in the morning.
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As events turned out, I needn't have worried about breaking the idyllic atmosphere
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because as we were about to set off, Good god, it can't be
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price. It's you, It really is. Hello Malcolm, Now what are
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you doing in this neck of the woods. Don't tell me that forced you
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out of the rat race at last. Malcolm Rivers was one of the world's
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prize bores. If the first prize in a competition were a part in one
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of Malcolm's movies, the second prize would have been a part in two of
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Malcolm's movies. Scouting locations, Old son, is he that castle of this?
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That's just right for a new horror picture. We've gone. I love
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you to read it. It's a great script. Nowcome, I'm on vacation.
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Can we discuss this later, or better still, see my agent.
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Yeah, yeah, but look, just let me tell you. At this
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point our taxi arrived. It was as battered as its driver, but we
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had all agreed to leave our own transport behind. Trouble was when Malcolm heard
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the driver announced that he had come for the castle party. He insisted on
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coming with us castle. Oh you don't mean to say you're actually going there.
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Yes, well that's great. I can actually show you where it all
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takes place, what I'm telling you about it. Malcolm, I no,
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come on, don't be so coy. You're worse than a virgin on a
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wedding night. I just couldn't shake him off. You never could with Malcolm.
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That's how he'd hustled his way to the top. Now he attacked himself
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to us like an incubus. The film's all about the sounder Bergs, you
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know, the family, a sort of pageant of atrocity. I want to
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step back and look objectively at what each one did. Take Elisa for instance,
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Well, I can't speak for the others. I was doing my best
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not to listen. The castle, for those who don't know, it is
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built on an immensely steep rock dominating the town, and on its northern side
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is surrounded by a moat which has long since been filled in. At the
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foot of the wall is a very pleasant garden with little sheltered seats. Sitting
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there is a good way of recovering from the rather overpowering tour round the castle.
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The girl was right there, still was a sinister aura clinging to the
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place which even a hot and cheerful summer's morning couldn't entirely dissipate. They broke
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in and found the girl strung up by the wrists over the hot colds.
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Incredible story. Of course, we can't actually put all that into the picture,
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but we can imply a hell of a lot. You've got to admit,
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it's a damn good commercial plot line. Now, that's why it's so
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important to get the feel of the place where it happened. We want to
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get right away from the studio. Look, hell, they can go out
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and shoot a police picture in real locations, or why not a horror picture?
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Now, the seventh Count was a real character. This you've got to
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hear. They see the rivers. Do you mind if we change the subject.
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My wife is feeling a bit faint. Oh that's too bad, missus.
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And we haven't even seen the torture tower yet. And now say,
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would your lady wife like to wait for us out here? She could sit
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down there in the garden. Oh no, I don't want to miss anything.
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I'm quite all right. I think it was probably just that steep hill
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and the heat. You go on now come, we'll catch up with you
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a lot. Oh no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Stick
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to your through thick and thin. That's my motto. Oh oh, now
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look at that. Oh, it can't be more than six weeks old.
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It was a tiny black kitten which was playing with its mother near one of
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the seats in the garden just below us. The cat, a great sleek
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creature whose coat shone in the sun, lay stretched on the grass and the
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kitten ramped around near her. The mother would wave her tail for the kitten
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to try to clutch with its paw, or raise her feet to push the
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little one away as an encouragement to further efforts. It was a charming sight.
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Berth has been on to me to buy her a cat as soon as
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we were married. Now i'll get no people, Oh Jack, I'd like
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to take them both. I wonder who they belonged to. They're not strays,
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and that's for sure. Look at the condition of the mother's coat.
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They probably belong to the castle. It'd be great for the picture had a
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touch of atmosphere. Malcolme leave them alone. I can't get a the wall
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anyway, it's far too steep. Yes, yes, you're right. I'll
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look at the size of the mother. We don't grow cats like that in
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England. No, wait just a minute, here we are. What are
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you doing. Well, I'll just throw this stone to attract their attention.
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I don't do that. Don't do that. You might hit the kit.
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Oh not a chance. What do you take me for. I may produce
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movies, but I'm not all that bad. I'll just aim it so it
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runs near them, make them look up. Have you ever seen the expression
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on a cat's face when it's startled. Well, we'll watch, nod man.
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Look what you've done. I if I meant if I meant to do
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that. Maybe the wall wasn't as sheer as it looked. Maybe there was
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a concealed angle at its base which we couldn't see. Whatever the reason,
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Malcolm's aim wasn't as true as he thought. I truly believe that he only
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intended to startle those cats. But when he leaned over the wall and through
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the stone, it landed with a sickening thud right on the kitten's head and
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shattered out its little brains there And then, oh, poor thing, the
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mother cast a swift upward glance, and I saw her eyes flash like green
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fire as she stared for an instant at Malcolm Rivers. Then her attention was
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given to the kitten. After one quiver, it lay still while a thin
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red trickle oozed from a gaping wound. Oh, the poor poor thing had
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just happened. For the world, I can't understand the best darling. The
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cat was assiduously licking the kitten's wound, and then suddenly she stopped. She
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must have realized that it was dead and that her ministrations were useless for all
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at once, she appeared to lose all interest in the pathetic little body.
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Instead, she looked again at Rivers, and in that look was all the
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concentration of primitive hate. Her green eyes blazed, and the blood which dabbled
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her mouth and whiskers made her look for all the world like an avenging fury.
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There, Malcolm, I hope you're satisfied. That's something for your horror
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film, and you have the consolation of knowing it's real blood and not vegetable
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dye. Don't rub it in. I feel bad enough as a little one.
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Sorry. I'm sorry, of course you do. I love cats,
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I really do. Although my outburst was a relief. I felt slightly ashamed.
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I realized how painfully vulnerable the man really was. I turned my attention
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to the cat. She was now attempting to claw her way up the wall.
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When this failed, she tried to launch herself into the air, eyes
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blazing, claws distended, and then she fell back. Let's go on.
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I can't bear anymore. Do you want to go home? We can come
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back tomorrow. I think a brandy would do you good. I think a
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brandy would do us all good. No, I don't want to go back
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to the hotel. I want to see the castle. Let's go on.
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In face of her obvious determination, there was nothing else we could do.
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At least the tour would divert her mind, or so we hoped, And
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we also hope that Malcolm would be deterred from prattling on about his inane script.
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But no, I really expect to pick up some great vibrations in the
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torture tow. It's just over there, you see. You see, you
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can't expect to involve your audience unless you're involved yourself. Now, that's that's
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the basic rule. You've got to be convinced, and that's why so many
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movies are just laughable. Nobody is convinced, least of all the makers.
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I remember one crazy scene. Now, as Malcolm laughed, I looked back
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at the cat. She too had heard, and her whole demeanor seemed to
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change. She no longer tried to jump or run up the wall, but
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instead began to lick and fondle the dead kitten as if it were alive.
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Then she took it in her mouth and began to follow us until we reached
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the limit of the wall's boundary. I thought I was the only one who
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noticed, but I was wrong, mister Rivers. I know this may sound
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silly, but I think that cat means to do you harm. Oh now
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that Oh, let's keep a sense of proportion about this. I'm terribly sorry
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about what happened, but I refused to avoid dark alleys over a damn cat.
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Besides, she probably has a litter of others underseambush. Yes, I
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think you're being metodramatic. Do you look better? Are you sure you wouldn't
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rather call it a do? For heaven's sake? To Fussy, I said,
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I was all right, didn't I? Or are you trying to get
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rid of me? Now? Don't start that again. All I was trying
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to do was to give mister Rivers a perfectly reasonable warning. I think,
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all I'm afraid. Well, here's the tower entrance. Shall we go in?
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I tried to sound unconcerned, but somewhere in the back of my mind
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I had a sneaking feeling that the girl was probably right. At first,
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we could see nothing. The darkness seemed incarnate, surrounding, stifling us like
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a blanket. The four of us just stood there, waiting for the use
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of our eyes to return. We were in the lower chamber. The thin
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sunlight filtering in through a tiny window seemed to lose lose itself in the thickness
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of the walls, which were coated with the dust of centuries. Here and
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there were patches of dark stain. Only Rivers naturally, remained comparatively unmoved.
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Not much room for cameras down here. Still, I suppose we could manage.
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Excuse me, But you are English? Yes, well three of us
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are? I think you are English? Are interested in tortures? Yes?
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You would like to see our collection? Yes, the best in job,
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Thank you very much. Perhaps you could show us around. You will follow
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me, please? You are my first party of today. The main collection
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is on the floor above. I think you will find some interest. I
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remembered the wealth of stories about the legendary cruelty of the Counts of Sunderberg,
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and of course their ladies. It was said that they had found a legitimate
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outlet for their blood loss by channeling them in the service of the officers of
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the inquisition. None measures here, Wow, look at all that? Oh,
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we found ourselves in a room full of torture instruments, chairs full of
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spikes which gave instant and excruciating pain, steel cages in which the head could
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slowly be crushed into a pulp. Racks, belts, boots, gloves,
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collars, and all around the walls great headsman's swords, evil keen edged weapons
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that would decapitate with one slash. And nearby blocks where the victim's necks had
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lain with deep notches where the steel had bitten through the guard of flesh and
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shored into the wood. We all found ourselves speechless in the face of this
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bestual evidence of man's inhumanity to man. All that is, except Malcolm Rivers
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believable, just what we need. It's too good to be true, it
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really is. Do you see, it's perfect for a setup just here.
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It's a question of getting permission to use this stuff. But I wonder what
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the formalities are. Hey, let me just sit in that chair moment.
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Wow. Rivers was behaving with his usual insensitivity, But there was something more.
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I think the others shared the feeling with me that it was sacrilegious.
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An odd word to use, I know, but there was something sacred about
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the place. It was a temple, but a temple to evil. Now
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over his Madam, is a famous instrument of the Inquisition, one might almost
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say, the most famous, and still in perfect work. And corner,
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the old man pointed to the main object in this chamber of horrors, the
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iron Virgin, a copy of the famous one at Nuremberg. The contraption was
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covered in rust and dust, except for the face, which was oddly fresh
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looking, as if the custodian had scrubbed it. While the figure was curved
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in the shape of a woman, It was just broad enough for a man
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to fit inside, as we could see when the door was opened. The
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door itself was enormously thick, and was worked open and shut by a thick
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chain running through a pulley attached to a heavy beam in the roof. When
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the weight was released, the door would slam shut. The devilish nature of
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the iron virgin was truly revealed when you examined the inside of the door.
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A number of iron spikes were fixed there, and when the victim was placed
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inside it and the door closed, the upper spikes would pierce his eyes and
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the lower ones his heart and vitals. What a charming toil. Oh God,
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look at the blood stains to watch out blood completely man. And there
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are some who say this comes back anyway. I think I can believe this
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place is haunted. And on that happy note, I vote we make a
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hurried exit. That suits me. Let's go and have that drink. We
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promised that shall right now? No, no, no, wait, what's
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up this time? For God's sake? Hey you? Oh man? Now,
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how big is that space in the space inside? I want to see
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if I can get in? Oh well, I told you I'd like sampling
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your experiences now, Malcolm, realism is one thing, nonsense, courage of
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your convictions and all that. Now, come on, I need your help
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on this, very good sir. If you insists you're not serious, I'm
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sure I am. Yeah, that's a tight fit. You've grown some since
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those days, and I'll manage. See, you are not really allowed to
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lose this, sir. If anyone found out, I might get in.
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Why should anyone find out and might even lose my job? Okay, okay,
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I'll get you a price, give him something, would you. Well,
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I'll settle with you later. I think this is all very silly,
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all in the course of hot Well, I for one, won't go and
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see his beastly film that my dear makes two of us. Hey, what's
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all I'm whispering about? Oh here you are two four six? Thank you,
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sir, Oh, thank you, sir. Do you think that was
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square your conscience? Oh? Yes, sir, I think it's square very
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nicely. Now that you've had your little game, can we all go go
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if you like? I'm not stubbing you. I'm staying here. Oh come
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on now, come welcome nothing. I'm really enjoying this, lived aangerously.
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That's my motto. Charlie, now unfastened the door. But sure, can't
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somebody stop welcome? You've had your little joke. But enough is enough enough?
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Hell you, Charlie, do as I tell you. I'll start letting
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that door down, but slowly where they very slowly. Despite his reluctance,
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the old man did as he was told. He worked the machine with a
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deliberate and excruciating slowness, in which the outer edge of the door hadn't moved
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half five inches in as many minutes. The whole ridiculous charade had a kind
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of macabre thrill about it. It was a scene from Malcolm's horror film,
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played exclusively for our benefit. And then I saw her, the cat.
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I don't think the others noticed at first, they were too intent on watching
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the progress of that door. Even rivers had ceased to chatter. In the
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far corner of the chamber, dark untamable forces were gathering her green baleful eyes
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shone like danger lamps, and as I peered at her, I could see
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that their color was heightened by the blood which still smeared her coat and reddened
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her mouth. And still slowly, inexorably, with the precision of an expert,
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the old man went on working that door. Even then, I wasn't
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sure what the animal intended to do, or even if she intended to do
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anything, until suddenly the cat look out for the cat. The cat launched
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herself, not at Malcolm, but at the luckless custodian whoa Her eyes blazed
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with ferocity, her hair bristled till she seemed twice her normal size. Her
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tail lashed out like a tiger's when the quarry is before it. The cat's
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claws found one of his eyes, and I actually saw her tear through it
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and down his cheek, leaving wide bands of red where the blood seemed to
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spurt from every vein. Oh, look out, he can't hold it back.
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And yell of agony and terror. The man leapt back, dropping the
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chain which held back the door. It ran like a lightning through the pulley
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block, and the massive door slamed shut. In the instant before the door
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had closed, I saw Malcolm's face. His eyes stared as if dazed,
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and for once in his life, he was speechless. Jack, help me
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get the door open, for God's sake, help me, I'm coming.
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Best. Stay with you will, for God's sake, don't look. The
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end must have been quick, for when we managed to wrench the door open,
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the spikes had done their work. They had pierced right through the skull,
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so that as the door opened, the body came with it, and
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he fell to the floor, face turned upwards. Get your white out of
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here. He's there. I'll attend to the old man right. Oh.
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The old custodian was leaning against the wooden pillar, holding his reddening handkerchief to
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his eyes, while on the face of poor Rivers there sat the cat,
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purring loudly as she licked the blood which trickled through the gashed sockets of his
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eyes. I pushed her away from her ghoulish meal, and well, I
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hope no one will call me cruel, because I seized one of the old
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executioner's swords from its rack on the wall, and with one slash saw her
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in two on the spot. Poor Malcolm, he'd had his total experience,
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a good deal more total than he'd bargained for. Cozy, wasn't it.
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You see what I mean about cats? You never can tell? That was
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Vincent Price bringing you over the price of fear. Also starring in this story
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Katz Cradle were Kenneth J. Warren and Frederick Schrecker, with John Sampson and
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Bonnie Harron. Katz Cradle was first recounted as the score by Bram Stoker,
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dramatized by Richard Davis and produced by John Das