No need for it at all.
Reasonable foresight, that's all
that was necessary.
We change from a primarily agricultural country
to an industrial one...
...and within time, the colonies
fall into our hands.
- And what do we do?
- Coffee here's worse every night.
- Steward!
- Absolutely nothing.
We pour money down the drain, buying
our foodstuffs from all over the world...
...instead of developing the Empire.
Riordan, you're a doctor....this coffee
is enough to kill a man, isn't it?
With the obvious result...
When we have to pay for a war,
we can't pay for our food.
- Riordan!
- Oh...sorry!
- This coffee...shocking
- Terrible.
- Ah...more coffee!
- Yes, sir.
Excuse me doctor...you forgot
to sign your dinner cheque.
Oh, yes.
Still, things were coming along
quite nicely...
...until Hitler popped up.
He didn't "pop up"...
He was inevitable.
Well...war was, anyway.
What sort of mentality would have
precluded the possibility of war?
Anyhow, neglecting the empire started
long before this government
got into power.
It's no specific government I'm blaming.
It's our complacent insularism.
- Empire!
- Allow me, sir.
Knew a man once
who went to Australia.
Ian Pumprick...
got into some sort of trouble...
...packed him off...
back inside a year.
Couldn't hit it off with the Australians...
sent him to Canada.
No idea what happened to him.
Ever met a Canadian?
- I known Canada well.
- Fantastic lingo.
Same as the Americans you know.
Met a Canadian once.
Couldn't understand a word he said.
I said, "Look here, young man..."
"...if you're going to stay in the Empire,
you'll have to learn how to speak English."
Took it quite well.
- Good night, gentlemen.
- Good night.
Do you realise that we're living
on American dollars, sir?
That every mouthful of food we eat,
costs dollars.
Might get some decent coffee.
Thank you.
Good night, sir.
Taxi!
Diltrail House, please.
Good night.
Oh, it's you sir!
This is a surprise... We didn't expect you
back for a fortnight.
Torquay's postponed for a few days...
an urgent case came up.
We didn't expect you back
for a fortnight.
Torquay's postponed.
Mrs Riordan not here, then?
No sir. Madam said that
she might be rather late...
...and that I needn't wait up.
- Shall I take your coat?
- No, don't do that.
I'll keep it on for a moment...
It's a little chilly.
Very good, sir.
I forget...was someone calling
for Mrs Riordan, tonight?
No sir...Madam left the house
alone in a taxi.
I see.
You may as well go back to bed, Aitken...
I'll wait up for my wife.
Very good, sir.
Good night, sir.
- Scotch?
- Thanks.
- How about some music?
- Lovely!
Brahms, Beethoven...
Haven't you got any civilised music
around here?
Where's that record
I gave you last week?
- Somewhere there.
- So it is.
- May I have the pleasure, madam?
- I'm busy.
There's no ice.
You silly boy!
Look at your tie!
Put your head up.
Mother uses to tie it...
Did it for years.
You're still a baby.
That's why you love me...
maternal instinct coming out.
I'll fix some ice.
And leave me here all alone?
Let ME get the ice...
you two carry on.
We mustn't be inhospitable
to our American cousins...must we?
Clive!
- Hello there, Clive.
- Hello, Bill.
- Hello.
- Bill!
- I thought he'd gone away.
- He HAD gone!
- Well, he's come back, I guess.
- How long has he been here?
Quick!...think!...
Do we say anything?
I don't think so.
Did we do anything?
No...Bill...keep your head!
You took me to the Rechosky concert.
- Margaret couldn't go, so I asked you.
- Who's Margaret?
- Don't worry about that. Do you understand?
- OK...OK.
Afterwards we had some oysters at Savoy.
At The Grill.
- We didn't dance.
- Why not?
For heaven's sake, don't argue.
He doesn't like me dancing
with other men.
Oh, Clive...can I help?
- I see you've managed.
- Yes, I've managed...thanks all the same.
- Why did you come back. darling?
- I changed my mind.
"What did I want with a holiday?"...
I asked myself.
A holiday away from
my beautiful wife!
Your drink my dear...
And here's yours, Bill.
- Thanks.
- And here's mine.
Do sit down...please!
No...over there on the sofa.
That's the idea...
Well, good luck!
Cheers!
By the way...Margaret couldn't go
to the concert after all...
...so you went.
Yes.
Bill rang about something or other,
just after Margaret rang, so...
So I got me a free seat.
Did you enjoy the concert?
- Oh, swell!
- He played everything I love.
- Many there?
- Overflowing.
- They were standing at the back.
- Remarkable!
So you saw the house
full to overflowing.
- Sure, what of it?
- Really remarkable.
And you my dear heard your favorite music
...played...interpreted by Rechosky.
Some of it, yes.
Really remarkable imagination.
Such is the power of the master musician.
Even if he isn't there.
You see, there was no concert tonight.
It was cancelled.
Rechosky was taken to
a nursing home...
...half an hour before the performance
was due to begin.
The thing is, I too am sitting here
wondering what I'd say...
...in either of your positions.
But no, I can't think of anything either.
Bill, please go.
- Yes, I guess if you'll pardon...
-Good night, Bill!
Good night, Storm.
I don't know what to say.
But I know what to say...
Sit down.
Put that gun away at once!
Sit down...both of you.
Well, Bill?
You're right, Clive...
we didn't go to the concert.
We went to The Savoy...
for a bite to eat.
The Grill.
We didn't dance.
I was starving as usual.
You know the way she gets.
Yes...I know the way she gets.
I'm afraid it's all my fault...
I persuaded Storm
to skip the concert.
Savoy? The Grill, please...
I'd like to speak to Tony.
Bill, you will now see
British diplomacy at its best.
They must be busy...
listen to the bar.
Is that you Tony? Good evening,
this is Dr Clive Riordan.
How are you?...
Fine thanks.
I've finished a case
a little earlier than I expected...
...and I told my wife I'd try
and join her later if I could...
...but I very stupidly forgot
where she said she was going.
Is she in The Grill, by any chance?
She'd be with that nice young American...
Mr Kronin...Mr Bill Kronin.
No? Have they been there tonight?
Not? Well, I'll try somewhere else.
Thanks so much...goodbye.
Tony sends his regards
to you my dear.
Well, Bill...how was that?
Oh, for heaven's sake,
stop this ridiculous nonsense!
I'm going to bed. Good night Bill...
I'll see you to the door.
Good night, Clive.
On the sofa.
A little putty and a touch of paint
and you'll never notice it.
So you were not at the concert
and you were not at The Savoy.
Let's cut it short Clive.
I feel like an awful heel.
I should have come to you
in the first place, I know....
Bill, don't say anything...
Anything! Do you understand?
- Let's get it over with, darling.
- Shut up!
Now who could you be telephoning
at this hour?
Hello, Betty...
Hello darling, Storm here.
I knew you'd still be up.
Well, I saw you,
but you didn't see me.
At the concert.
Well, we were a good way back.
I never heard the orchestra
in better form.
Wasn't Rechosky terrific?
Darling, how about lunch on Thursday?
Alright I'll ring you Thursday morning
for arrangements.
Goodbye.
Very clever my dear...
but too late.
I'm sorry you had
to find out tonight.
I was so looking forward to you
opening "The Times" in the morning
...and seeing the criticism
of the concert.
Do sit down, please...then I won't have to
keep turning my head.
Well now, to sum up the situation...
You, Bill, want to tell me something
that I know already...and...
...you Storm, won't let him.
Nobody knows what to do.
Nobody, that is, except me.
I knew what I was going to do yesterday...
and the day before that...
And every day, right back
to the first time you both met.
At that cocktail party...remember?
I saw you and Storm
laughing and chatting together.
...and to my long-experienced eye,
flashed the familiar message...
Storm is under full sail again...
the calm has lifted.
You see, I decided what to do with the next one...
before you even met my wife.
And you, Bill, are "the next one".
I know exactly what I'm going to do.
I'm going to kill you.
- Now, wait a minute, Clive!
- Don't be a fool!
He's not a fool...he's not going to
shoot me like this in cold blood.
Don't you be so sure.
Tell me..are you interested in thrillers
and murder stories?
I was until now.
You know it's a pity I've got to kill you,
because I really quite like you.
Get out.
Alright, Storm, give me the gun
and let's call it a day.
Bill, keep out of this please.
Well, what are you going to do...
Are you going to shoot me?
- Get back!
- Storm...darling!
That's one way to avoid a scandal...
shut up!
That first cocktail party...
Was it worth it?
And don't try to be funny.
I know exactly how you're feeling,
my dear.
Your pride is hurt...you've been made
to look a fool in front of Bill...
..and you're dying to shoot me,
aren't you?
- Well, why don't you pull the trigger?
- Don't come near me!
Well I'm only trying to help you...
I'm sure this'll do the trick.
I took these out while I was looking
at the bullet hole.
I knew there was only one way to make a woman
withdraw permanently from a situation like this.
A direct humiliation.
And now we're alone together
which is exactly what I'd planned.
- You'd planned?
- Of course.
- You figured all this out?
Weeks ago...it's part of
my perfect murder.
You see Storm mustn't see us
go out together.
That's why I had to get rid of her.
Clive! I hope you notice
I still call you Clive.
Yes, Bill.
You're not really serious!...
You're not going to take a harmless
little flirtation seriously, are you?
Oh, but that's the trouble you see...
There have been so many
harmless little flirtations.
You've heard of "the last straw",
haven't you, Bill?
Well, you're it.
But you're kidding...all this nonsense
about "a perfect murder".
I'm afraid not.
Would you care for "one for the road"?
No thanks. You mean
we're "going places".
Yes, Bill...we're "going places".
Work it out for yourself,
my dear fellow...
10 million Empire acres
on which we spend a pound per acre...
A pound sterling, mind you...
10 million sterling.
Call that whisky?
That's all...10 million pounds yielding
a permanent increase in our food supply...
as opposed to paying interest,
down the drain, mind you...
on American loans going to buy
Argentine wheat...
...am I wrong?
Something wrong with
the whisky nowadays.
- But that would take some considerable time...
- Whisky, you're so right, sir.
That's another example that proves my point...
It's dollars all the time, sir.
A stranglehold on The Empire.
I seem to have read somewhere
that America lent us some dollars.
Well, there you are...there's no excuse
for this rotten whisky.
- Extraordinary business here.
- What?
Still no news of that American fellow.
"Kronin mystery deepens...
five days missing."
- No clues at all.
- There you are again, you see.
We've only got to pick up a London newspaper...
one of our own newspapers...
And what do we read about...
Americans, Americans, Americans.
Lot of fuss about nothing.
It's obvious to me
what's happened to him.
What's your theory, Colonel?
It's something to do with this
atomic invention of theirs.
The Russians have got him.
If you'll excuse me I must be
getting back to Whitehall.
Yes, and even doctors must work.
I hope I haven't given you
a wrong impression of him, Doctor?
He's a perfectly normal husband
in other respects...
...but this thing...it really seems
to have got hold of his mind.
I didn't mind the Saturday afternoons...
...or even Sunday mornings...
...every night after his office.
It's too much.
There he goes, with that ridiculous little boat,
straight to round pond in Kensington Gardens.
And he just plays...and plays and plays.
Well Mrs Humphries,
from what you've told me...
...I shouldn't say there's anything abnormal
about your husband's behaviour.
Be quiet, Monty.
The last patient's with the doctor now,
Mrs Riordan.
Thank you...I'll wait a bit.
I can never thank you enough, doctor.
As you say, it might have been worse.
It could have been kites.
Hello, Monty.
He won't hurt you.
You're a wicked naughty dog.
I'll take him.
Good afternoon, Mrs Humphries.
Good afternoon, doctor...
thank you again.
Pleasure,
No more patients tonight, doctor.
That's splendid...
Well, you can go, Miss Stevens.
Well, my dear...
What brings you down here?
- Can I have some money, please?
- How much?
10 pounds...I lost it to Marge at bridge.
Do you want a lift home?
No thanks, she's outside
with her car.
By the way, I've had a letter
from Bill Kronin.
- So you've had a letter from Bill Kronin?
- Yes.
- When was this?
- Just before lunch.
- So he's alive, then?
- Naturally.
- Where is he?
- He doesn't want you to know.
- May I see the letter?
- I burnt it.
Well, it's nice to know
that he's turned up again.
Isn't it!
Let's see...it must be 5 days
since I scared the daylights out of him.
Frankly, though, I didn't think
you'd hear from him again.
You surely didn't think your
petty jealousy would put Bill off?
Yes.
I wish I hadn't burnt that letter...
Then you could have read
what I read.
Go on...I won't tell anyone.
Bill's waiting for me...
do you hear?
Bill's waiting for me. He loves me...
and wants me to divorce you.
He's waiting for you...and loves me
as you've never loved me.
When are you off, my dear?
Oh, by the way...
What did Scotland Yard say?
Scotland Yard?
Yes, weren't they pleased?
You surely told them of your letter.
Why should I?
My dear, the army spent
the most strenuous few days
...searching high and low
for Bill Kronin.
Dead or alive.
The police on the Continent and in the States,
are still searching for him.
And you know where he is...
But you must tell them at once!
It was a private letter.
Now...just a minute...
I come into this too, you know.
- You?
- Of course.
Since you told me about the letter...
...I'd be an accessory if I kept
the knowledge to myself.
...and there's a most awful penalty
for that.
Hundreds of pounds, or jail or something.
My course is plain.
- Who are you phoning?
- Scotland Yard.
Put that down!
Put that down!
So...he's waiting for you...and...
He loves you as I
have never loved you.
Well, well.
I hate you.
- Bless you!
- Thanks, friend.
Well, I see I still make the front page.
Yes, Bill, I've made you famous.
Thanks, pal.
Yard investigates
loss of memory theory.
It appears I've complained
of headaches recently.
Yes, that was my scotch.
And I have no enemies...
...it says here.
I don't mean to appear too inquisitive...
But would you mind telling me
what's in that room?
Just a sort of bath.
But I have a bath, back in there.
Yes, this another sort of bath.
This is not going to be another
"Brides in the Bath" case, I hope.
I'm no bride, you know.
You know, I can quite see
what Storm liked about you.
- How is Storm?
- Fine, just fine.
By the way,
she's had a letter from you.
She has?....
That's darned clever of her.
Yes, was, wasn't it....
Hungry?
Yes, I could eat.
How did you sleep?
Okay, considering the cold. How about
something warmer to wear?
I'll get you something.
- Everything alright in the bathroom?
- Sure.
Care to make a personal inspection?
Some other time.
I'm sorry there's no hot water.
Oh, don't apologise, old man.
It's nice of you to worry about hot water...
how things are in the bathroom...
...How do I sleep?...
You're too, too kind.
Still...and I don't want you
to think I'm ungrateful...but...
There are one or two more important things
that I'd like to get cleared up.
Such as "where am I?"...
"what am I doing here?"
How much longer do you expect a man
to eat this garbage?
I'm sorry about the food, I really am...
but it's really difficult for me.
Difficult for you?
Look, a gag's a gag.
You scared me...
Is that the general idea?
I'm sorry about Storm,
I won't take her to dinner any more.
And now, can I please go home?
You don't seem to realise, there's more in this
than me just trying to scare you...
...or your being sorry.
A sensible and civilised husband doesn't object
to other men admiring his wife...
...he can even understand her
returning the admiration.
But when this mutual attraction
becomes a habit...
...and it's flaunted repeatedly
under his very nose...
...under the impudent assumption
that he's being deceived...
Why, then, the intelligent and sensible
and civilised husband...is insulted
...and he's reduced to the most insensible,
and uncivilised behaviour.
So you see...through you,
I'm going to make my wife suffer
...for a long list of calculated insults.
Yes, I'm going to kill you, Kronin.
By boring me to death.
And my wife's going to suspect I killed you.
Se may even be certain of it.
But she'll never be able to prove it.
You're breaking my heart, Clive.
- I'll see you tomorrow.
- Hey, wait a minute.
Aren't you going to explain some more
about what I'm doing here?
No, see if you can work it out
for yourself.
Why I'm keeping you a prisoner,
instead of killing you right away.
I did.
It'll help you to pass the time.
Good night Bill...
sleep well.
Clive!
Clive!
Hello, my dear.
I want to talk to you
about that letter.
Letter?
That letter from Bill Kronin.
Oh, that letter.
You knew there couldn't be a letter.
Or any letter.
Because you've killed him,
haven't you?
You killed him that night I left you
alone together in the lounge.
So, you see, I have no alternative but
to tell all I know to Scotland Yard.
My dear Storm, whether you believe
Bill is alive or dead...
in Mexico City, or whether I killed him...
One thing is quite certain...
you won't go to Scotland Yard.
Why not?
You know that any investigation...
into my relationship with Bill Kronin...
...will inevitably uncover
your own indiscretions.
And as you love your reputation
more than your sense of duty...
...you won't jeopardise it
by going to Scotland Yard.
You're quite sure of that?
I've never been more certain
of anything.
Help!
I suppose you think I've gone nuts,
eh Joe?
Well I haven't...I might
if you'd learn how to talk.
You'll hurt yourself.
- I've brought you a Martini.
- Dry?
Very...and ice...
They're in the white flask.
Much obliged.
And a chicken.
And the indigestion tablets
you asked for.
Too, too kind!
And the paper.
Looks like we're in
for a hard winter.
- Where am I?
- Page 4, bottom of column 6.
- Slipping!
- You're just a 9-days wonder.
26 to be exact.
Oh...dear, dear!
I see the tall dark mysterious stranger
with an American accent in Wigan...
...came to nothing.
Too bad.
Thought they had something there.
How about books
to pass the time?
- Sure.
- Anything in particular you'd like?
Well, it depends.
If I had a broken leg,
how long would it take to mend?
About 6 weeks, why?
Well I heard that one of the greatest
delights in life, is to break your leg...
...and read Boswell's "Life of Samuel Johnson"
in bed.
How about it...have I got 6 weeks?
I'll bring you the first volume tomorrow.
Wait a minute...you're not
going to leave yet, are you?
Can't you stick around a little while, and talk?
It gets kind lonesome.
Oh, alright...just for a few minutes.
I must stick to my timetable.
What shall we talk about?
War of nerves.
- Politics?
- No, this war of nerves.
You....me!
That perfect murder plan of yours...
I've got it all figured out.
You have?
You haven't got one.
Maybe, one day, you thought you had one.
But now you've gotten here...
it doesn't look so good.
So you're stuck with me.
You'll go ahead and kill me, anyhow?
No, you're too smart.
You switch....and you hope
I won't notice.
The "Cold War"...the war of nerves...
that's what you switch to.
The mysterious hot water bottles...
the dark room with the green light
...the rubber gloves...the works!
Very nicely staged, Clive...
but it won't work.
Oh, no...I've been through all that before...
...at college.
Only we do it much better.
Kill me, Clive?
You can't even get off the ground.
Don't you kid yourself.
The way I'm going to kill you
is immaterial.
And the manner in which I dispose of your body,
presents no obstacles.
Keep whistling.
My plan is roughly this...
I've taken out an insurance policy
against being hanged.
The premium being your captivity here
for a few months.
You're missing...there's been
a hue and cry for you.
But so far, I haven't come
into the matter at all.
But supposing, unbeknown to me,
I am suspect?
Supposing even now, they're building up
a case against me...
...and one day they find that I'm responsible
for your disappearance...
You see at once how awkward it would be
if I had already murdered you.
Doesn't bear thinking about.
In theory, you're as good as dead.
But should the necessity arise,
you can be produced alive, at any moment.
And now, Bill..
and this is most important...
Your transition from the living state
to the dead...
...won't add any further clues to those
surrounding the mystery of your disappearance.
Oh, I congratulate you, Clive...
I really want to hand it to you.
Thank you.
Oh, no!...
Do you like my plan?
Yes...not bad.
Not at all bad.
I suppose I can learn "Boswell's Life of Johnson"
by heart then...
...for all the good it'll do me.
Yes, I mustn't forget
the first volume tomorrow.
Thanks, Pal.
Clive, just one little thing....
When it comes down to it...
you won't kill me.
You're not the type.
You hang on to that, Bill.
- Good night, Miss Stevens.
- Good night, Doctor.
Monty, come here!
Monty, come here!
Monty!
Monty, come here!
Monty, where are you?
Monty, where are you?
That was smart work, Monty...
You're a clever little dog, aren't you.
Monty!
You old son-of-a-gun!
What a surprise!
Come here, Monty...come on boy!
Come on!
Nice old fellow...you've come
to visit old Montecristo, eh pal?
- Miss Stevens, have you seen Monty?
- No, Monty hasn't been here.
- Is my husband still working?
- No, he left about five minutes ago.
5 minutes! Did he have a car here,
do you know...or in the garage?
- I really couldn't say.
- Thank you Miss Stevens.
Good night.
Good old Monty...good dog!
Clive, you couldn't have brought me
a nicer present.
I haven't talked to a human being
in 4 months.
Thanks, pal!
Monty, what goes on
in that room, eh?
Go see what's happening...
come back and tell me...go on!
Go!
Hello Monty...You're going to be
quite a problem.
Come, Monty...
Come on!
That's a good boy!
What's it all about in there?
What did you see?
Will you leave Monty with me, Clive?
Oh, you're not leaving already?
We've got a lot to talk over,
haven't we, old man.
As a matter of fact, I've got half an hour
to fill in before I'm sure the coast is clear.
- Coast is clear?
- Usually outside, well, Bill.
Storm nearly followed me here...
thanks to him.
Good boy!
Better luck next time!
I see you've nearly finished Boswell...
would you like something else?
How about a Spanish dictionary
and grammar?
I've always wanted to learn Spanish...
this seems as good a time as any.
Who knows?...I may go to Spain one day.
Let's see now...you've been here 4 months....
...and you've read Boswell in 4 volumes.
I should now recommend something
in ONE volume!
One thin volume.
Tell me...Do you believe
in a life after death?
In a vague sort of way...
I suppose I do.
I never banked on it though,
until recently.
I take it you're not particular what happens
to your body after you are dead.
No, I suppose the guy who gets
blown to bits by a bomb...
...and there's no remains to preserve afterwards,
will make it...
If there's anything to make.
The disposal of the body has always been
one of the greatest problems
facing the would-be murderer.
Many excellently conceived
and meticulously planned murders have failed...
...when the moment arrives to do
the disappearing trick with the remains.
Burning would seem a very simple
and tempting way out...
...but it usually fails,
when to the murderer's horror...
...his victim's body simply refuses
to turn to ashes.
Burial in the garden,
in the cellars or the like...
...too often proves
but a temporary hiding place.
Taking the body to sea in a little boat
and throwing it overboard, well-weighted...
...is not really to be recommended.
There must be plenty
of quiet places in England.
Why not dig just a sort of big hole...
and put me in?
Burial in some secluded spot?
Definitely no!
Why not?
Well, you see, fate usually
seems to decree
that the spot which has remained
secluded for centuries...
...suddenly becomes the Mecca of picnic parties...
...with dogs that dig holes
unearthing the grave.
Why not cut me up in little pieces
and sort of sprinkle me around.
No, I can't feel remotely attracted.
Didn't I read of a case of a guy
who shoved his victim into trunk...
..and checked the trunk in a cloakroom...
How about that?
No, most old-fashioned!...it's almost
an English institution.
And the percentage of failures
is most discouraging.
You can see I've given the matter
quite a considerable amount of thought.
And you're stuck with it...
and no way out.
On the contrary...I've found a unique
and effective way out.
The answer to my problem is in
those rubber water-bottles.
In there is a concentrate which I guarantee
will dissolve every atom
of flesh and bone in the human body,
within a few hours.
Congratulations!
The formula is not complicated.
Should have quite a sale.
My main problem was to ensure that the solution
had the desired effect upon the flesh...
without reacting in a similar fashion
towards iron, steel, brass, lead...
...and other metals used
in plumbing arrangements.
So I'm to be poured down the drain...
Is that it?
Exactly...you'll appreciate the convenience.
Any questions?
I don't want you to think I'm trying
to poke holes in your little scheme, or...
...or try delaying tactics,
or anything like that...
How do you mean?
Are you sure this mixture of yours
really works?
I wish you hadn't reminded me of that.
You see, our little chat has quite made me
forget a very unhappy decision...
...that I've been forced to make.
Here!...Monty!
You see, I have no alternative.
Our little friend followed me here once.
He'll do it again.
If that's your idea of a gag...
you sure got a corny sense of humour.
Come along, Monty.
Oh Clive, for Pete's sakes!
Come here, Monty, come here!
Here Monty, come on!
- Monty!
- Clive, no. you wouldn't...
- Monty!
- Come here, boy!
Come on...come on...Monty!
- No.
- Good boy!
Clive, no!
Clive!
Come on, Monty...come here!
Monty, come here, boy!
Monty...please....
come on you fool!
Monty, atta boy!
You dumb dog...you!
Come and get him!
Good boy!
Well, I understood that any dog who is lost,
is taken to Battersea Dog's Home immediately.
Aitkin, come here.
Well, you have a description...please phone me
the moment you find him.
Did you do that?
The advertisement will appear
in tomorrow morning's "Times" and "Telegraph".
...and in the "Evening News", "Standard" and "Star"
tomorrow night.
Alright! Alright!
Where's Monty?
Yes, he's with you, isn't he?
Why should he be with me?
He slipped his collar and ran after you
to the garage.
Let's call him, then.
Not this garage...at your rooms.
Oh, that garage?
Well, where is he?
My dear Storm...I can quite understand
your being overwrought if you lost your dog...
Why take it out on me?
He wouldn't run away from me
for nothing.
He saw you and ran after you...
you must have seen him.
May we have dinner?...
I'm hungry.
Aitkin, Aitkin!
- Dinner!
- Yes, Madam.
if he's really lost...
you'd better try Battersea.
Thanks.
Or you might think of putting an advertisement
in one of the papers.
I do wish you wouldn't put
your coat on my bed.
He's a dear little chap...Don't worry...
He'll probably turn up.
- Dr. Riordan?
- Yes.
My name's Finsbury.
I'm sorry, but I don't see patients
after hours.
No, I suppose not.
Perhaps if you'd care to telephone in the morning
for an appointment.
I'm afraid we're at cross purposes.
I'm sorry if I mislead you.
So you're not a patient.
No, I'm afraid I'm not.
Pleasant room.
May I sit down?
Yes, of course.
I expect you'd like to know
what I'm doing here.
Quite...well it's about a dog
I believe you lost.
A dog answering to the name of...
It's here in your advertisement.
Yes, here it is...Monty.
White, no markings.
Sir, I do apologise
for breaking in on you like this.
Have you found the dog?
No, I haven't...actually.
Well then, I don't understand.
I was wondering if you could elaborate
on this description.
No, I'm afraid I can't.
Or perhaps give some more details
as to how the dog was lost.
Do I understand that you're proposing
to search for the dog?
In a sort of way...
it's part of my job, you see.
What job?
I'm from Scotland Yard.
We get the silliest jobs sometimes.
Scotland Yard....looking for a lost dog?
I wondered myself...
but I suppose strings were pulled.
You know how these things
are handled sometimes.
And I was given my instructions
and the statement made by Mrs Riordan.
My wife went to Scotland Yard?
- Yes, surely she told you?
Why yes...surely she told you?
No, have you my wife's statement
with you?
I have, as a matter of fact.
- May I see it?
- Certainly.
Oh, I'm afraid I can't add
anything further.
Oh, that is disappointing.
You were our last hope.
Yes, it's a pity isn't it.
He was a dear little chap.
Well, it's awfully nice of you
to have taken so much trouble.
Not at all.
And perhaps you'll thank
your superior at the Yard.
of course...I'll certainly thank my superior.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean
to be patronising...
But I take it you're
a comparatively new recruit?
Oh dear! And I try so hard
to look wise and worldly!
By the way, what is your...rank...
is that the word?
Yes, that's the word...
I'm a superintendent.
You're THE Superintendent Finsbury?
Really?...I've always wanted
to meet a crime specialist.
Interested in murder, Doctor?
Well, in an amateurish sort of way, yes.
Don't be modest...
All murderers are amateurs, you know.
Nobody makes a profession
out of murder.
In fact the only professionals in the game
are those who try and catch the murderers.
Perhaps you hadn't thought of that?
No, I hadn't.
Goodbye.
I say, I'm most frightfully sorry
to worry you again like this...
I see you're interested in my trains
and where's my dog.
There was one small point
I completely forgot...
..and really didn't fancy worrying you
in your consulting rooms...
Well?
It's really frightfully unimportant,
but as I'm here...
Carry on.
Well, you remember a young fellow...
What was his name?
Disappeared some months ago...
Friend of yours...what was his name?
Kronin...Bill Kronin.
That's right, Kronin.
We made several enquiries about him, didn't we?
...and as far as I remember
you couldn't help us much.
No, poor old Bill!
Poor old Bill?
Well, I suppose something pretty awful
must have happened to him...don't you?
I don't know...he might have got himself
into some sort of a jam...
and thought the best thing to do
was to disappear.
Bill in a jam?
Yes...with a girl, for instance.
A married woman perhaps.
Oh, no...not him.
You think that's so impossible?
Well, not impossible...
but extremely unlikely.
Really? Well, not everybody shares
your high opinion of Mr Kronin.
How do you mean?
I'm thinking about an anonymous letter
we had at the Yard...
...soon after Kronin disappeared.
I wouldn't have brought it up, actually,
but as I'm here about the dog...
I hope you won't think I'm meddling
in your private affairs.
What on earth are you talking about?
Well someone or other wrote to us...
and said that Kronin had been having
an intrigue with a married woman.
Even mentioned the lady's name.
You'll be all for knowing.
The lady in the case
was your wife.
- My wife?
- Yes, I know..I'm sorry.
Well, this chap, you know, the letter-writer...
went on and hinted...
...that because of this, you had something
to do with Kronin's disappearance.
My wife and Bill, fantastic!
may I see the letter?
I don't carry that sort of nonsense
about with me.
Well why didn't you
come to me at once?
Oh, no....we're reasonably circumspect.
We don't necessarily believe all the tales
we're told in anonymous letters.
We checked up...and as we could find
no confirmation of any such...
...shall I say "surreptitious friendship"
between Mrs Riordan and Kronin...
...we decided not to upset you needlessly.
That was very nice of you.
Do I take it then,
that as far as you were aware...
...there was no intrigue
between your wife and Kronin?
But of course not.
You had no reason to threaten Kronin
or desire his death.
Certainly not.
Well, good night, Doctor.
Hi, pal!
Why you seeing me?####
No eats tonight, Monty.
Don't like the looks of that, old son.
Clive!
I say...Clive!...
Is this it? Tonight?
I'd rather know.
Oh, I see what you mean...
No, this is not "it".
On the contrary...the unexpected
has happened.
The alert continues...you have in fact
been granted a reprieve.
- I have?
- Temporarily.
- For how long?
- That depends.
On what?
On my assumption being correct...
...that Scotland Yard is bluffing
and knows precisely nothing.
Scotland Yard...are they in on this?
They are.
Whatta you know! Boy! Scotland Yard!
Did you hear what he said?
In fact their representatives were about 50 yards
from this place about 10 minutes ago.
They were? And you came on down here anyhow?
They'll follow you won't they?
Why should they?
Don't you realise that I'm acting
on the assumption that they know nothing.
They'd hardly imagine I'd pay daily visits
to a man that disappeared
5 months ago.
No I guess not.
You sure got nerve, Clive.
The important thing at the moment
is not to deviate one iota from my plan.
And not to panic...or to make the mistake
so often made by murderers.
What's that?
Assuming the police
know more than they do.
Crippen was a classic case in point.
It was only because he fled from the country,
that he attracted attention to himself.
I'll bid you goodnight
in complete confidence...
...that I shall hear no more from
the gentleman from Scotland Yard.
Did you hear that, Monty?...
We got some more time.
Come on old boy...now school's in...
see what you can remember now.
Sit down...sit down!
Hold, hold, Monty.
That's a good boy...
You're learning fast.
Once more...sit down...
hold it, Monty.
Oh, hello, Doctor.
I really can't apologise enough...
My mind you know.
Definitely going... There was
another little point that I forgot.
Could I see your gun?
How did you know that I had a gun?
Some young fellow at the Yard
was checking over licences the other day.
Nothing better to do, you know.
May I see it?
Of course.
Thank you. You keep this fully loaded?
Naturally.
- Have you fired it lately?
- No.
When did you last fire it?
I don't know...weeks ago.
Well, try and remember.
I've been very patient with you
so far, Finsbury.
But I warn you, I'm getting sick and tired
of your investigations.
It's a nice state of affairs if a man
can't accidentally fire his own gun
in his own drawing room, without Scotland Yard
pestering him as if he were a criminal.
It's outrageous.
Where's the bullet?
What bullet?
The one you accidentally fired.
You've got so much time to waste...
Why don't you go and get a warrant
and search for the bullet.
I don't think that will be necessary.
There we are.
Now for the bullet.
How's that. Well I think
this clears matters up, Doctor.
I'm terribly sorry if I've upset you...
...by appearing to hound you
from pillar to post.
But I have to check up
on these silly little points...
...or I get a rap over the knuckles.
Pure routine, you know.
Routine!
May I borrow this for a few days?
Yes...yes...
- Thank you
- Let me show you out.
Thank you. Exceptional weather
we've been having lately.
- Exceptional.
- Well, thanks again, Doctor.
I'm so glad we've been able
to have our little chats
without dragging your wife
into them.
Quite...Well, good night.
Monty, no, boy...sit down.
Clive? Tonight?
You know, you don't seem to realise...
Quiet! I don't want to speak..I just want to know..
Is it tonight...yes or no?
No.
I don't expect you to believe me...
...but these few last months have been getting
me down almost as much as they have you.
I too will be glad when it's all over.
Thanks...pal!
At least I taught you
to make a decent martini.
- Any more visits from the Scotland Yard guy?
- No.
He must have been onto something...
He must have.
I thought so, too
At first? Not now?
No, not now.
Why not?
Because now I know
exactly where I stand.
Well...go on!
Well, you always want to make speeches...
Go on, speak!
You see...it's just a question of logic.
Reason tells me, the Scotland Yard guy
made a leading mistake when he came to my house.
There were only 3 people who knew
the location of the spent bullet.
You, myself and Storm.
Yet Mr Finsbury went straight
to the filled-in hole.
Now, who could have told him?
I didn't and you didn't.
- Is that all?
- No.
Consider the anonymous letter
which he almost forgot to mention.
Now you and Storm
would be much too smart
to let anyone else know
about your secret intrigue.
Yet Finsbury knew all the facts.
Who could have told him?
- Storm, eh?
- Exactly.
My under-estimation of her feelings towards me
might have been a serious mistake.
But instead, thanks to her...
...I stood the test
of a Scotland Yard enquiry.
They checked up on her story
and found precisely nothing.
It'll be just her word against mine.
And you know, you ought to be
very grateful.
You've got a few weeks reprieve...
Which I regret to say
will soon come to an end.
- Clive, you've forgotten one thing!
- What?
What's that?
You haven't got it back yet.
What?
The gun...they haven't given it back to you...
It's still at Scotland Yard.
But there's no interest in the gun, now.
That's what you think...now!
But you're wrong...they're not
hanging on to it for nothing, you know.
They must have a reason.
Don't kid yourself...this case isn't closed...
They haven't given it back, yet.
Good night, Bill.
The gun, Clive. Why haven't they
given you back the gun?
Come on Monty boy,
we haven't very much more time.
You've done it once before buddy...
you better do it again.
Come on now, boy...
Good dog, now...hold...hold!
Well, come on...don't just sit there
and look at it...Hold!
Atta boy! atta boy! Good boy!
Tug...tug...atta boy!
Oh, look out!
Oh no, no...boy...bad dog, Monty!
Bad dog...never fall in...no!
Hold, but never fall in, never!
- Yes?
- Excuse me sir, there's a gentleman to see you.
- Who is it?
- A Mr Finsbury, sir.
- Ask him to come down.
- Very good, sir.
- Hello, Doctor!
- This is a pleasure.
So this is how you spend
your Saturday afternoons.
It's pretty strenuous.
What a terrific collection
you have here!
Not bad.
My word...you HAVE gone to town!
While I think of it...
My memory, you know...
Your gun.
- Sorry we kept it so long.
- Thanks.
Then, you're not going to hang me
or anything dreadful like that.
Good heavens, no...it's been
floating around my office for weeks.
I've been up to my eyes
in the Lawrence murder.
- Any luck?
- Yes, as a matter of fact.
I made an arrest this morning.
May I?
Royal Scot 460.
Nice jobs, weren't they?
I say...this isn't right...
What isn't?
The tender...those flares shouldn't be there.
- The sides should be straight.
- No, they shouldn't.
- I think you'll find...
- I assure you you're wrong.
You see, 1927, when the Royal Scot came out...
They did have those straight-sided tenders.
But in 1937 they introduced those curved ones.
Sorry, my mistake...
Not bad for a psychiatrist.
Thanks, pal...
Would you care for a drink?
Well, I'm off duty...
Yes I'd love one.
You know, I've never gone in
for any strenuous form of exercise...
I've always got my relaxation
in a complete mental change, like this.
Good idea.
All the same, I've been feeling
a bit run down lately...
So I plan to take a holiday
in a few days...
...when I've got one or two things
cleared up.
Half your luck!
Cheers, Doctor.
Where were you thinking
of going?
I don't know...Cannes
or somewhere where it's sunny.
I suppose it's alright for me
to leave the country.
You won't think I'm running away...
guilty conscience or anything, like Crippen.
I see what you mean. No, you can go
to the North Pole if you feel like it.
Thanks, pal.
Well, if you'll excuse me, Doctor.
I mustn't leave my chaps
waiting any longer.
Don't bother...
I can find my own way out.
- Well, goodbye, superintendent.
- Thanks, Doctor. Have a good holiday.
Thanks.
You can go back and book off...
I'm walking home.
Very good, sir.
Good night.
Five bucks! Oh, for cryin' out loud!
Listen, pal...only 5 bucks...
There's a lifetime of work
gone into a book like this.
It sent me back 20 bucks
a year ago.
But it's yours for 5 bucks...
on account of I'm goin' home.
Thanks, pal...the finest address book
in the European theatre.
Let me give you an idea
of the material.
Betty! Betty...Oh, when I think of Betty.
He eyes, blue...they bore
right through ya!
And when you're dancing...
Why, Betty alone's worth the 5 bucks.
Thanks, pal!
Rita, brunette...
that's her best feature
- Gorgeous hair.
- Thanks, pal.
Maybe you don't appreciate the spadework
that's gone into a book like this.
Hello?
Yes, Mrs Riordan speaking.
Superintendent Finsbury here.
"Thank, pal"... Yes..."Thanks, pal."
No, it doesn't sound like Clive at all.
It doesn't does it?
Just sort of struck me.
You know how these things do
from time to time.
Your husband's English vocabulary
seems quite adequate, you know.
It did seem odd for him to borrow
from our cousins across the sea.
- Does he know many Americans?
No, I don't think so.
Except...the only person I can think of
who used to say "Thanks pal" a lot,
was Bill...Mr Kronin.
Well, I can't explain it all
on the phone.
In fact I really can't explain it at all.
It's only a hunch, and I may be
chasing my shadow...
...but it does strike me that a man
who is so precise in his speech...
...doesn't start using Americanisms...
...unless he's seeing rather a lot
of at least one American.
But he hasn't seen Bill for months,
as you know.
I'm not so sure...I have a hunch
that Bill is still alive.
Alive...Bill alive?
Yes...well, as soon a you can...
I'll be waiting...
I'll be there...I don't know
if I can be there immediately.
I'll see what Clive's doing.
I can't wait to see you....goodbye.
Storm!
- How about a drink before dinner?
- No thanks.
Well, don't just stand there...
come and sit down.
I'd like to talk to you.
Who was that on the telephone
just now?
I said who was that
on the telephone?
Jane.
- Jane?
- Jane Hawser.
A very "masculine" voice, hasn't she?
I see...you listened of course.
How much did you hear?
Just enough to know
you're about to sneak off...
...to keep a secret rendezvous
with some man or other.
You're quite right,
it wasn't Jane.
Now who was it...Michael or John?
Perhaps it was Robert.
So difficult for you, isn't it?
It wasn't Bill, though, was it?
I said it wasn't Bill!
It could have been.
But surely you remember
you said I'd killed him.
I thought you had...
but you've killed Monty instead.
I really don't see the connection.
You kill a man?
You take a risk?
Oh, no...you'd sooner take it out
on a poor defenceless dog.
You fooled me for a while.
Until you got hold of Monty that afternoon,
and I saw right through you.
You bribed or scared Bill away...
and then took it out on my dog!
Very brave!
But Bill's still alive...I know he is.
- So that's it.
- That's exactly it.
I see...I see you need convincing.
Superintendent Finsbury, and please hurry,
it's terribly urgent.
Well can you get a message to him?...
it's a matter of life and death!
This is Mrs Riordan speaking.
Yes, that's right.
Tell him to come here to my house at once...
as fast as he can.
Thank you.
- Something's happened?
- You're right...Bill's alive.
But my husband's just gone off in his car...
He's going to kill him!
Really...are you sure?
We had a quarrel about you...
My husband thought you and I were...
For heaven's sake, do something!
What? Can't exactly follow all that,
but you can explain it later, eh?
Let's concentrate on finding Kronin,
shall we?
What are you going to do?
The quickest way to find Kronin...
...if my hunch is right...
is to find your husband.
And the quickest way to find your husband
is to find his car.
Hello?
Superintendent Finsbury here.
Send out a general call...
Find a grey Austin saloon...
Registration number...
What is it, Mrs Riordan?
- I haven't the faintest idea.
- Can you find it?
I should think so. It ought to be
among his papers on his desk.
Hang on a minute.
These look like car papers.
That's right. There's an insurance certificate.
- AYT 186.
- That's it.
- Is that an extension?
- Yes.
Still there?
Send out a general call...
Find a grey Austin saloon...
Registration AYT 186.
You're late.
It's Saturday...not office hours.
- Is it...Saturday again?
- Hungry?
Yeah...thirsty, too.
Here are the martinis.
Thanks.
I brought you a cold chicken...
your favorite.
Thanks.
"The condemned man
ate a hearty breakfast."...eh?
- The indigestion tablets?
- Sorry, I forgot them.
Papers?
They're outside...
I'll get then in a minute.
The service is deteriorating
around here.
Well, the martinis seem to be holding up.
Care for one, Clive?
No, not tonight.
I must say I admire your husband, Mrs Riordan.
Amazingly bright idea...
Most original.
I think I can see it all now...
Except, I wonder what he proposed to do
with the body when the time came.
How can you just sit there?
Dear Mrs Riordan,
what else can I do?
Are you sure my pipe
isn't worrying you?
Is this really Scotland Yard in action?
Once the wheels are in motion...
Some of us serve...
who only sit and wait, you know.
Not much point in my charging around,
all over London, by myself.
Big place, London...
I must show you London, some time.
You'd be astonished.
What's the matter Clive?
Not beating your chops
like you usually do.
What's going on over there...
more preparations for the big night?
Bloodstains you know are awful giveaways.
The dismemberment
is a terribly messy business.
- Are you feeling groggy?
- Yeah, I...
- How about another martini?
- I guess I will.
There have been 2 authenticated
and 3 hypothetical cases
of a murderer taking the perfect precautions
against bloodstains.
If one takes off all ones clothes
before starting work...
and there's a bathroom handy
for afterwards...
...the menace of bloodstained clothes
is obviously removed.
- How are you feeling?
- Kind of woozy.
Those martinis sort of hit me...
I taught you too well.
You know, what I need is a little exercise
and fresh air.
How about a little walk
around the block, Clive?
Coming?
Oh, no...you don't worry me.
You won't do anything
until you get that gun back.
Tis gun was returned to me
within the last hour.
It was?
Hello....there's a nice pussy, eh....
what's your name?
AYT 186.
Keeping the victim alive for a few months
and seeing which way the wind is blowing...
...before actually finishing him off.
That's a jolly good idea, you know.
How can you sit there
and do nothing?
Hello....yes, speaking.
Okay...yes I've got it.
I'll be right down...
Send another car along.
Oh, and you'd better
have them take a surgeon.
- How's that for service?
- Where is he?
His car is in his own garage in Calross Mews.
- Full of surprises, isn't he?.
- Shall I come with you?
No, you'd better stay here
if you don't mind.
So you finally got the gun back, eh?
So your great Scotland Yard
finally threw in the sponge, eh?
You got everything figured out,
right down to the last detail.
Yes , Kronin. In all humility,
I honestly believe I have.
Well, what are you waiting for?
You've got everything figured out
except one little thing, haven't you?
And that's how to do it...
You can't do it, can you.
When it comes down to it, you're nothing
but a blowhard and a big talker.
You haven't killed me yet!
Yes I have...it was in the martinis.
The martinis...
No, no!
No!
No! I won't!
Got to...keep...walking.
The joke's on you pal...
take a look at the bath!
You've got a body on your hands.
Not for long.
- Good evening, constable.
- Good evening, sir.
- This is it, sir...I locked it, sir.
- Was it open?
It was open sir...I pulled it to...
I thought the owner had forgotten it.
- Where's the car?
- Inside, sir.
- Have you locked the car...inside?
- Yes, sir.
- Well, where is it?
- In there. He locked the door.
And now he thinks the car is inside,
but he's not sure.
Break in!
- Well, the doctor's not here.
- What do we do?
Clear our cars away, and hang around here
in case he shows up.
I'll go and take a look
in his consulting room.
- That's funny!
- This is the switch here..
- What's this one for?
- Power I suppose.
Amateurish looking job, isn't it?
- Where do you suppose those lead to/
- Let's take a look.
Constable...the torch.
Come on chaps...break it in!
Doctor!
Excuse me sir...will there be
anything more tonight sir?
No, I'm waiting for someone.
Show that gentleman over here, will you.
That's alright.
- Good evening Mr Finsbury...you're late!
- I'm sorry...I was detained.
- Do sit down, please.
- Thanks.
- You see, I was expecting you.
- I'm on duty, I'm afraid.
- We've found your dog.
- Congratulations.
One moment.
Don't worry.
If that were my intention...one quick bite...
...would be much easier.
So you win after all, Mr Finsbury...
I still think it was a good idea though.
They always are.
You know, now that it's all over,
I can see my mistake, clearly.
You can?
A fundamental mistake
that grew into an obsession.
I felt the only way out of the situation
between my wife and myself...
...was to kill the next man
that made love to her.
- Are you married, mr Finsbury?
- No.
I've often thought about it.
The trouble is, I've thought about it so long,
I'm afraid I've missed the bus.
Just one of life's little jokes, isn't it?
it points out our mistakes too late
for us to profit by them.
Thanks.
It might interest you to know
...that you're the only clever
would-be murderer I've come across,
...who's in a position
to profit by his mistakes.
It'd be interesting to know
how much you've learned.
Bill Kronin is alive.
Just barely...but alive.
Shall we be getting along?
I forget...what's the penalty
for a near miss?
Oh, it varies. In any case
they won't chain you up, you know.
Some visitors for you...
You may go in, Mrs Riordan.
Hello there, Storm...
this is a surprise!
- Hola, Monty.
- How are you, Bill?
Coming along fine...should be
out of here in a few days.
I'm so glad.
Bill, I expect you've wondered why
I haven't been in to see you before.
- No I haven't been wondering.
- The shock, and everything.
- Oh, sure.
- Clive, you know.
Yes, sure.
I thought I'd like to drop in
to see how you were.
Oh, I'm fine.
And to say goodbye.
Goodbye...you're going away?
My doctors want me to take a holiday,
so I'm going on a long sea trip.
Oh, swell!
Where are you going?
South America...Mexico...
Oh, you'll love Mexico!
Going alone?
No, Monty's coming with me,
of course.
Oh, Monty...yes!
You'll find he's a wonderful companion.
When we get back, we really must
get together again.
Yes, we must.
I'll leave it with you
to get in touch with me.
Yes, you leave it to me.
Oh, I love you!
I really must go now.
I have a hair appointment.
Mustn't be late for that!
- 'Bye, Bill.
- Goodbye, Storm.
Think of me sometimes!
I have an idea I'll not forget you
as long as I live.
Monty, come here!