
Beyond Midnight - Hobart aka A Man Called Hobard
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Arthur
Still, what can you expect? Oh, it's the same new house Palaby build.
Narrator/Wife
Of course, they all build.
Arthur
Yes, right sir. Oh no. Is it? Oh, I didn't know we knew anybody there.
Narrator/Wife
Where Australia. Won't bite you. We've been in the house three weeks when the letter came July it's drowsy weather there's so much to do, a new house, curtains and we worked steady hard. We went to bed before dark. Every day tired us at the same post. I got a letter from Mary forgetting Australia for the moment. I was deep in her everlasting news and something made me look up. I looked down again and then back once more Darfur's face. I wasn't sure then what I saw there. I only knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.
Arthur
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Narrator/Wife
Those used to be sunny mornings I suppose east over the estuary and I used to open the windows early to air out the smell of paint. We'd moved in the day the workman left and everywhere is fresh and lovely that so ancient felt new to us. Could have Been a step. Even Wimbledon Park. But those early weeks were proof that it had all been worth it. Then the letter came. Arthur.
Lizzie
Who? Who not will be.
Arthur
What is the matter? It's from P. St. J. Hobart. He says that the house. This house has no business to be disposed of. He says it is under. Under his late uncle's will. Late St. Peter. Oh, St. John Herbert.
Lizzie
What?
Narrator/Wife
The owner. Did you remember being in the family
Lizzie
for a few years?
Arthur
I will. Carefully. I know, Hobart, that he died in the uncle, but he died intestate. Oh, he made a will. But the lawyers had it, apparently. But this is not. The chap from Australia says. Well, what is. What? I know. I know what the lawyers told me. Wait a minute. The old man made the will, but then went to the lawyers and destroyed it under their very noses. Well, they told me he didn't make another one. And then he died. All he left was bills. So the house was sold to pay the bills. Nothing about her, A nephew anywhere. Now, all this.
Lizzie
What does it mean, sir?
Narrator/Wife
These lawyers can't have made a mistake.
Arthur
No, they can't.
Narrator/Wife
Nah.
Arthur
This chapter. Another leg to stand on.
Narrator/Wife
Chinese woman.
Arthur
Or an imposter. Here, read it. Whoever he is, he knows the page
Narrator/Wife
at the back of his hand. Read it.
Lizzie
Sir, does this mean that we just read it?
Arthur
I don't know what it means. Well, not much, I hope. Coo is an insulting sound, sir, but. Well, like I said. Well, he mightn't be genuine pack of robbers.
Narrator/Wife
That's very charming for a start scene of his boyhood.
Arthur
He can't make up his mind whether to insult us so that we clear out or to make us feel bad preying on our feelings. A scenery boy.
Narrator/Wife
Lived my miserable life with no hope, only to return. It's my faith, my inheritance and my passion. Mine. And no one shall cheat me of. Sounds sort of like a threat.
Lizzie
No, I said it's what it means. Just. Just not dismissing it.
Arthur
I'm not dismissing it.
Narrator/Wife
No. Oh, I mean, really, in fairness, his uncle ought to have told him.
Arthur
Well, maybe they fell out. Well, you never know. There's a lot goes on in those old families. I. I mean, always supposing this chap is journeying them.
Narrator/Wife
Anyway, I think you ought to send this on to the lawyers and that. I mean, we've only just moved in.
Arthur
And we're not moving out either. It's our house. Bought fair, square and above board with cash.
Narrator/Wife
Well, I mean, let these lawyers. You saw who arranged everything. Let them write to this P.J. what? That's big Man.
Arthur
Oh, how about.
Narrator/Wife
Yes, well, let them write to him.
Lizzie
I don't think. What are they for? What else are they for? In the first place, he ought to have written to them instead of trying
Narrator/Wife
to play us up.
Arthur
You haven't got a leg to stand on.
Narrator/Wife
Look, this hasn't got anything to do with us. Just put it out of your mind and send it to the lion. I wouldn't get that at the end of it.
Lizzie
All right.
Narrator/Wife
Arthur, my dear husband, left the room after that, went down to the garden and stood on the lawn and looked out across the water. It was a lovely house. We'd wanted a house near the sea. Arthur was very keen on boating and asked nothing better than a bit of gardening. When ashore that morning before that letter came, he planted out some carnations. Arthur had cut the head. So happy. It was the last happy morning we ever had, I suppose, together. As soon as Arthur set eyes on the place, I knew we were going to live there. You came on it, around the turn of the valley. Suddenly, just the house was the water and the trees going up. The lawn sloped to the estuary and there was a jetty high and dry that day, for the tide was out.
Lizzie
Didn't you tell me you'd written yourself?
Narrator/Wife
Oh, I thought you were just going
Lizzie
to pass the letter to the lawyers.
Narrator/Wife
Well.
Arthur
Well, I did, but I thought I'd like to try and explain things. A hobont myself, too.
Narrator/Wife
Letter writer.
Lizzie
But the way you wouldn't express yourself.
Arthur
Yeah, well, there it is. The pattern of the final right. He's just gloating. He sounds like a. Like a maniac. I just wanted to let him know the place was in good hands. Well, I thought. I don't know what I thought.
Narrator/Wife
Would he go for us with a gun or anything? That sounds as if. Anyway, he's coming.
Lizzie
Coming Here?
Arthur
What is it, a strikeout?
Narrator/Wife
It's our hours.
Arthur
We bought it. I mean, that's what I told the lawyers. I thought lawyers were people to be trusted.
Narrator/Wife
Us.
Arthur
I've never had to deal with lawyers much before, but at least I thought in an open and shut case like this. I mean, when there's no doubt there's in the right. I thought they'd been on our side. All they do is hum and whore. Change the subject.
Narrator/Wife
The villagers aren't much better.
Arthur
Oh, they're a close lot. They are smugglers, that's what they are. They're in league with the Hobarts. I tell you that for nothing.
Narrator/Wife
How on earth can they know the nephew's coming? I Don't know.
Arthur
But they know he's. He's coming here all right. The way they look at me. They won't be living in that nice house for long. That's what they look.
Narrator/Wife
So sometimes I wish we'd never come here at all.
Lizzie
Why? We bought it.
Arthur
It's ours. While and if that bloke continues his present attitude, not a word will I hear. I will not clear up. I'll not sell. And that's final.
Narrator/Wife
This T. Hobart man arrives in London day after tomorrow. He'd be here that same day. And there we were left with this worry hanging over us. Arthur couldn't concentrate on the garden. Somehow I couldn't summon up in energy to get on with the things that needed doing around our home. Because we were frightened that in a very short time it would no longer be our home. Then two mornings later, we ceased to worry. I'm just going down to the shops, dear.
Lizzie
Do you need anything? Kebabs? Arthur, dear, is there anything wrong with this?
Narrator/Wife
Look. What?
Lizzie
Father? What's the matter?
Arthur
I don't believe it.
Lizzie
What?
Arthur
There's been a plane crash en route. How's them? Australia That I give the passengers.
Narrator/Wife
Look.
Arthur
All lives lost there.
Narrator/Wife
P. Sitchen. Opa. Arthur and I were ashamed to voice our relief. We were ashamed. Later on that day, the lawyers came on the phone. Yes, I know, said Arthur. Don't tell me. That evening our floorboards started to be torn up. A clock was moved in front of a sliding panel thrown out in a heap. Our clothes and papers and drawers and cupboards. I heard him. Arthur heard him. It went on night and day, but neither of us caught him at it. How could we doubt for a minute who it was. It.
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Arthur
It's an ugly day today.
Narrator/Wife
I thought I had flu.
Arthur
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Narrator/Wife
Ah, Grandpa.
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Arthur
Can you hear me?
Lizzie
Hobart? Can you hear me? Leave us alone. Go away. We know it's you. We're sorry. Although none of this is our fault. We are sorry. Sorry that you had to come halfway across the world just to die. We're sorry, P fin Hobart. But you've got to stop frightening my wife now and go away. Go where you belong.
Narrator/Wife
Please.
Arthur
Please.
Lizzie
Never did I ever saw that. Do you think that that sicker in the village. Oh, I don't know what to say. Please, let's go and see him.
Arthur
We don't belong to the church. Well, we never get a check.
Lizzie
Oh, he's like Christmas. See us. Why did it matter whether we go to church or not? That's not what he's for. Just for people.
Arthur
All right, yes, I'll phone him, and we'll go and see him. And we'll both go.
Narrator/Wife
You know what he's looking for, don't you?
Arthur
How about the will? The one that the old man destroyed? Here we are, two grown people, old enough to know better, huddled, frightened in
Lizzie
the room, talking about a man who's dead. And we know he's dead.
Arthur
And we're talking about him as if
Lizzie
he's alive in our house and he in our house. I mean, not alive anymore. There are no such thing as ghosts.
Arthur
Lizzie. Please, my dearest, it's all right.
Lizzie
Please.
Arthur
We've got to fight this. Please say you're fighting. Please. Please tell me you'll try. Try not to Be too afraid. We'll fight this together. It's got to end somehow.
Narrator/Wife
At the start, we remained outdoors as much as we could, leaving the house to please Sigen Hobart case he might really investigate. Still, we now seldom saw the sun. It was sultry weather. The trees became dark, as if they were full of smoke. To distract me, Arthur would take me boating up river out of sight of the house. Or we take sandwiches and go into the woods. Sometimes we go miles and miles away, walking nearly all day. This lasted for a little while, but I could see that my husband wasn't happy. He was right, of course. Man should stay in his own house. He telephoned the vicarage more to please me than any hope that a solution from there might help us. Either way it was the same because Mrs. West, the vicar's wife, told us her husband was away for three weeks on exchange in a North of England parish. And then one evening I saw p stitching so bus.
Lizzie
Oh, I feel as if we've walked for miles and miles. I feel as if we walked to land end and back.
Narrator/Wife
Oh, it's lovely to go out for the day. But it's even nicer to reach home again and see your house dance.
Arthur
Red sky at night. Sabbath delight. What is this?
Narrator/Wife
Look in the doorway. We looked down at our home from the hill above it, down through the sycamore trees. And he stood in the doorway with mighty Nona. Oh, we knew him so well. He was tall and old. And even from that distance I felt that he was smiling.
Arthur
Let's get down there to our house.
Narrator/Wife
Came the evening when the men from Australia had a long look at was raining and the windows were closed. There was a heavy sea mist from the estuary. Arthur was reading. I was trying to sew some chair covers. But somehow my heart wasn't in my task at all. I looked towards the window and there he was. One hand pressed against the pane with the water running down little rivers. Through the glass. I saw his peace and his eyeballs. I saw him laugh silently, terribly.
Lizzie
Arthur, dear, let's close the curtain, shall we?
Arthur
Oh, yes. Somehow I. I pity him out there.
Lizzie
Oh, Arthur, how much longer am I?
Narrator/Wife
Oh, my dear.
Arthur
I want, though I won't. What's good enough for him is good enough for me. But why don't you. Why don't you go away? Just for a while and for a change. And for Mary's side.
Lizzie
Mary to leave you.
Narrator/Wife
I know where my place is. He's looking for the will, hasn't he?
Arthur
It seems as if he has. Seems Concerned with us now.
Narrator/Wife
Could. Could he do us some harm? They think poor.
Arthur
How could he? He's none of this world. Well, not flesh and blood. What could he touch?
Narrator/Wife
Us?
Lizzie
Perhaps he wants to come to terms.
Arthur
Terms?
Narrator/Wife
Funny.
Lizzie
I wouldn't mind having a bachelor in the house.
Narrator/Wife
I wouldn't mind at all if he was alone.
Arthur
Why do you? Fair and square with a living man.
Narrator/Wife
That's all I ask.
Arthur
A living man to deal with. Well, as it is, I. I call this a dirty treat.
Lizzie
Well, you can't blame him. Blame the air crash, but you can't blame him.
Arthur
I never thought that there'd come a day when. When I tolerate in my home someone. Something from. From a world which isn't ours. I can't enjoy my home anymore. And I won't be able to until I've had this out. Until it's finished. I'll have this out with him. If I die in the attempt.
Narrator/Wife
Arthur would stand for hours in our doorway watching to see who would come out of the woods. It seemed as if Hobart had given up sneering. He'd remain quietly in the corner of a room or range. The woods without the property. He'd stand by the water and look out across the estuary. Far from getting an occasional glimpse of him, we started to see him quite regularly. Almost every day. After a while, it seemed as if we merely had a silent disc living with us. But you see, Hobart would never face Arthur squarely. No sort of satisfaction would he give. It was always distance. Distance between us. And looking back, I can see that this was all planned on our ghost's part. He was goading Arthur.
Arthur
Goading him.
Lizzie
He was everywhere.
Narrator/Wife
And always the same queer smile upon his face. It was out.
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No.
Narrator/Wife
Somehow I think I knew even during those days that he meant to do more than that. May have been his revenge. I don't know. P sigon. Hobart brought about a rift between my dear husband and me.
Lizzie
I never thought such a thing possible.
Narrator/Wife
After all those years that it happened, a big man came between us. Arthur grew titchy. He lost his appetite. It was as if I'd done something wrong. The insane suddenly
Lizzie
going to be a storm. What says dad? We got a nice lot of logs in, dear. Oh, my dark in here. Arthur. Arthur. Dear. Thread.
Narrator/Wife
I looked up and Hobart was standing between the dinner table and me. He'd never come so close before. He was laughing violently. His bald head shone in the fire glow. He came closer. I saw the wipe of his eyes. I know evil when I saw it. This was evil. The wind came the storm was beginning already. I knew it would be raining in the estuary. It was full tide.
Lizzie
Hobart P. S. And Hobart came closer to me and closer still.
Narrator/Wife
House H. Laughed again, as silent as ever. And then backed away to the sofa.
Lizzie
Oh, you needn't go. We've got business. Mr. Sinjong. Hobart.
Narrator/Wife
And he spread his arms wide. Arthur did, barring the one way out of the room.
Lizzie
And Hobart walked straight through Arthur and the door and disappeared. No. You can't. You can't do this. I ran to the window and I watched the ghost stroll down across the lawn. Arthur ran after it. My poor dear tried to battle with it. He threw punches at it. He was fighting the air. Hobart went on and on down towards the jetty full of tide. The water was high and angry.
Narrator/Wife
Lightning flashed.
Lizzie
Hobart shimmered in the lightning. Through the downpour I watched them come face to face. For Hobart turn suddenly. I could see him laugh. What began to pass I shall never know. I could not move, could not follow. Time for me stood still. I. I was watching a play, a film. I was in a dream. Anything. Anything except reality. Hobart strolled off towards the jetty. Arthur followed. Lightning white sheath under the water over which p stigeon Hobart walked forward on. Arthur followed and fell where the jetty end.
Narrator/Wife
What remained was the roaring storm in the racing water into which my dear had gone like a stone. Not till the following day did they bring Arthur home. His poor face was strangely peaceful.
Arthur
You see.
Narrator/Wife
He was satisfied. He had had his say. He had had it out. I suppose I got through on the telephone to the village. I know I was not left alone long. The death finds your friend wherever you are. Somebody wired Mary and she came and it was with her that I went away, never to return. So there is the place for whoever wants it once again for sale For I need the money. Empty or not empty, I cannot say who is in possession? I do not ask.
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Arthur
Friday night at half past 2:9 by biotech, the new Soak and Pre Wash Powder. The program is adapted for broadcasting and Produced by Michael McKay.
Podcast: Harold's Old Time Radio
Host: Harolds Old Time Radio
Episode Date: March 12, 2026
Original Airdate (Radio Play): N/A
Episode: Beyond Midnight - Hobart aka A Man Called Hobart
This episode showcases a suspenseful, supernatural radio drama from the Golden Age of Radio, "Beyond Midnight: Hobart aka A Man Called Hobart." The story revolves around a couple, Arthur and his wife, who find their dream home by the water turning into a place of growing dread after they receive a mysterious letter from Australia. The letter claims rightful ownership of their house, leading to eerie hauntings by the supposed heir, P. St. J. Hobart, whose tragic fate escalates the haunting and ultimately leads to a chilling confrontation. The episode expertly blends elements of legal intrigue, supernatural suspense, and psychological drama.
Settling Into the New Home
The couple moves into a charming house near the sea, surrounded by the joys of new beginnings and the promise of comfort and happiness.
The Disturbing Letter
A letter from P. St. J. Hobart in Australia arrives, declaring that the house rightfully belongs to him according to his late uncle’s will. Doubts are cast on the legitimacy of the ownership.
Debating the Claim
Decision to Involve Lawyers
Arthur's Determination
Villagers' Attitudes and Isolation
The Fatal Plane Crash
Unexplainable Disturbances
Open Confrontation
Turning to Spiritual Guidance
Psychological Strain
Manifestations Intensify
Ultimate Confrontation
"Beyond Midnight: Hobart" is a classic example of atmospheric horror and psychological suspense from radio’s golden era. Through the haunted house trope, it explores the anxieties of ownership, guilt, invasion, and marital strain. It leaves listeners with chilling ambiguity—the house, haunted by both legacy and loss, remains for someone else to claim, echoing the unresolved fears of its former occupants.
Listeners are left with the unnerving question:
Who truly possesses a place—those who buy it, those who inherit it, or the ghosts of the past who cannot let go?