[music playing] [honking] John? Good evening. I'm blue eyes. Oh, yes. Good morning. Good morning, sir. - Morning.
- Mercer? Yes? Look. Another poem? The eight. "Elephants circle her
smooth, white arm. Good luck tokens to
guard her from harm. This lovely girl with a beauty
that only death can enhance." Let's see the chief. Get off a TX to Edinburgh. MAN (ON RADIO): Very good, sir. Oh, tell Parington
to stand by. MAN (ON RADIO): Stand by, sir. Well, what is it? We've just received
another poem, sir. Well, it was posted last night. "Beauty that only
death can enhance. What a night, my friends,
is her final dance." The P keys have
fallen out of alignment. The serif of the R is
sometimes not clearly visible . This small, broken curve
is found in all the letters E. There can be no doubt
that this poem was typed on the identical machine
used for the previous verses classified under file Q140X. Thank you. Typewriter paper of
cheap common bond. 8 1/2 by 11 1/2. No rag content. Manufactured by
the Stanton Mills. Watermark Victoria. Again, Victoria. No smudges. Typewriter ribbon
probably three months old. No fingerprints. As usual. Ah, what's this? Glove prints. Probably suede gloves. Typewriter analysis, chemical
analysis, fingerprints. We have precisely
the same information on the other seven letters. And the other seven
girls disappeared. Exactly. There's a homicidal
maniac loose somewhere in the vast honeycomb of
London, a maniac with a weakness for young, pretty girls. And not a thing we have
done has brought us one inch nearer his apprehension. There's not a man
in the department, sir, that's not been wracking
his brains over this case. Wracking his brains? That's a mistake. We can go on wracking
our brains till doomsday, and young innocent
girls will keep on disappearing as will
this one, whose fate has been sealed by this poem. No, it's not our
brains we should wrack. It's the brain that wrote this. "A beauty that only
death can enhance. For tonight, my friends,
is her final dance." 50 beautiful, ravishing,
glamorous dancer partners. 50 girls of your dreams
to hold in your arms. Short dreams, tall dreams,
blonde or brunette. Dance with one or dance with 50. Only six pence, gentlemen. [bell ringing] Thank you very much, mister. Don't rush off, dearie. Oh, now a wait a minute.
I'm busy, sorry. - Let's have a drink.
- Come on. That's enough of that.
- Sorry. Move on. Oh, my aching toes. Thank goodness it's
only two more hours. Two hours in this
cement mixer are longer than a six day bike race. In flew a dead duck. Come on, take a
turn, beautiful. What is it tonight, a
sweepstake for zombies? I hope you two
will be very happy. Thank you. Strike me pink if you
aren't the prettiest girl in the whole place. The minute I laid me eyes
on you, I said to meself, Oswald Pickering--
that's me name-- there's the prettiest little
girl in the whole place. Take it easy. I don't dance. Milton's the name. Harry Milton. Just want a word with you. Well, you can't take me home. I don't finish till 2:00 AM. We can't go somewhere
for a little drink, and I loathe etchings. What's that? Oh, no, no, no. I'm a theatrical agent, miss. Been watching you all evening. You've got personality. [chuckle] How'd you like to work
in a really fine place? Oh, now don't tell
me Buckingham Palace is installing a taxi dance wing. No, no, no, one of Fleming
& Wilde's nightclubs. You've heard of Fleming & Wilde,
the brightest spots in London. You're too beautiful for a
slaughterhouse like this. Oh, I seem to have
heard that before. Not from me, miss. I'm bonded. Mr. Fleming's scouring the
town for beautiful girls. 10 quid a week and bonuses. 10 quid? Audition next
week, Monday, 9:00. I'll be there, 9:00 AM sharp. Not morning, miss, evening. Who ever heard of Mr.
Fleming being up at 9:00 in the morning? Look, an agent
for a nightclub. 10 pounds a week. Aw, I'm not interested. What? Tonight's little Lucy's
last dance, Sandra. Me and my big blue eyes
are going bye-bye for good. What are you talking about? A man. Oh, he's so handsome, and he's
got the charm of the devil himself. I'm going away with him. But who is he, Lu? His name is John, and
he comes from a very distinguished family. Well-- oh, who's the
lucky girl this time? Me? Don't be jealous. [bell rings] There goes six pence. Yeah. Spin around, sweetheart. Let's have a turn, dearie. Strike me pink, if you aren't
the prettiest little girl in the whole place. The minute I laid
me eyes on you, I said to myself,
Oswald Pickering-- that's me name-- there's
the prettiest little girl in the whole place. I thought the cat got
your tongue, sweetie. Come along.
Up Let's warm up. Psst, Lucy. John who? Where's he from? Hey. Who's paying for this dance? I'd like to know. Me or your ladyfriend? Ah, shut up. Where'd you meet him? In the personal column. Yeah, what are you
two talking about? Oh, Lu, not that way. It's dangerous. Not when I have my precious
little friend to protect me. "Elephants encircle
her smooth white arm." Professor Harkness, I've
been reading that stuff until I'm blue in the face. I've had the best
cryptographers in London search them for some code or cipher
or any kind of hidden meaning. I'll be surprised
if you find any code. Whatever the criminal
reveals in these jingles, he won't be aware of it. Subconscious. Nothing simple or direct. Inspector, I'm
happy to say I've been able to identify the style. You mean you've
got a line on him? He's actually a poet? He'd like to be. He's Imitating one. Almost copied, in fact. Who? Which one? The poet that your
man must know by heart is Charles Baudelaire. Baudelaire was obsessed with the
notion that death is beautiful. Listen to this. "A beauty still more
beautiful in death." Your criminal has
the same delusions. "A beauty that only
death can enhance." I see. But Baudelaire died years ago. Yes, quite horribly
in Paris, 1867. Your murderer, if he's
at all a Baudelaire, he'll be constantly in
search of beauty incarnate. A new lovely face will
always appeal to him, or some unusual attractiveness
will intrigue him, inspire him to a distractedness. He'll delight in variety,
and never be quite content with what he finds. Sort of modern Don Juan. Yes, you might say so. I hope that this
will throw some light on the subject, Inspector. Baudelaire, eh? Well, that might help. But at the moment,
I don't see how. Well, thank you very
much, Professor Harkness. And good day. Oh, look, Mr. Nelson, this
is the chance of a lifetime. NELSON: "Chance of a lifetime." Yes, I'd give
anything to get a job in a Fleming & Wilde show. Fleming & Wilde? What's wrong with
your job here, eh? What's the matter
with this place? It's nice. I like it. Well, I'm mad about
it too, Mr. Nelson. It's simply divine, just
loaded with opportunity. Look, I want that audition. Won't you let me
off tonight, please? Not unless you wanna
lose your job, girlie. You know we're short
of girls around here, including your little
friend, Lucy Barnard. By the way, what
happened to her? I don't know. I haven't heard from her. Maybe her landlady has. Did you try the house? That's a brilliant idea. Now, suppose you
get back to your job like a good little girl. Goodbye, duckie. Give me a line, please. Watch it, sonny. Well! [phone ringing] Hello? Hello? Fleming & Wilde
Theatrical Enterprises? Hello? Hello. SANDRA (ON PHONE): Mr.
Fleming's secretary, please. Oh, just a moment. Who is it? Darling, it's not for you. She wants your secretary. She? Hello? Mr. Fleming's secretary? FLEMING (ON PHONE): Yes. This is Sandra Carpenter. FLEMING (ON PHONE): Who? Sandra Carpenter. I was to come in
tonight for an audition. Mr. Milton gave me a card. But I can't possibly get away. The manager-- would you
tell Mr. Fleming for me? Mr. Fleming will be very
disappointed, I'm sure. You have such a charming voice. Oh, well, I don't
sing, you know. I dance. I bet you do, and beautifully. Perhaps we can arrange
a private interview. You're intolerable. Hold the line, please. Something's out of order here. Jealousy's eyes
are green, my dear. Don't let your eyes turn
that dreadful color. You're incorrigible. Of course I am. An unmitigated cad. Now, carry on, my dear. Talk to me. Look here, is it customary
for Mr. Fleming's secretary to pass judgment for his boss? Mr. Fleming never
makes a move without me. In fact, he very
frequently has me take his young
ladies out to dinner in order to talk things over. Thanks, I'll go hungry. [inaudible], please. FLEMING (ON PHONE): You're
an American, aren't you? So? Mr. Fleming is quite
partial to American girls. They have an irresistible way of
putting a man on the defensive. Robert, you're-- Impossible. Now, what were you saying? Would it be against Mr.
Fleming's Anglo-American policy to tell a girl when
the next audition is, please? Tomorrow night at 9:00. Can you make it? SANDRA (ON PHONE): I think so. I guarantee that you'll
see Mr. Fleming personally. Now are you happy? SANDRA (ON PHONE):
I'm very happy. [door slams] Then why don't you smile? All right, I'm smiling. Any more instructions, Mr. Sec-- Miss Carpenter? Hello? Hello? Oh, hello, Julian. Chatham has just delivered
the architect's drawings. I feel rather like
Napoleon after Waterloo. You sound more like
Romeo after Juliet closed the balcony window. It's the first girl that's
hung up on me in years. It's well overdue. Take a look at these, Robert. I think the plans
are perfect now. We shall have the finest
nightclub in London. The entrance is larger than
any of our other clubs. And Chatham has
redesigned the dance area. I think the
entrance is too large. We'd better take six feet off. The smaller the entrance,
the more crowded the effect. The more crowded the effect, the
more prosperous the impression. Always keep entrances
crowded, Julian. Splendid, Robert. There isn't an
entrepreneur in London that can hold a candle to you. There's no partner
in the world like you, If appreciation is in order. Oh, fiddlesticks,
my dear fellow. All I do is to keep
an eye on the account. That's not so easy. It takes a magician
to eke a profit out of my grandiose schemes. Let's take a look at the pretty
girls in their dancing shoes. Go ahead, girls. Aren't you coming, Julian? Feared eight victim
of poet killer. What a horrible mess. Have you Read this? You're too sentimental. The eight little
darlings probably ran off with professional
charmers who promised them the riches of the Orient. You don't understand
women, old boy. And that was the last
you saw of Lucy Barnard? Yes, the night she said she
was going away with some man. Her landlady reported that
she left all her clothes, everything she owned. Which wasn't very
much, inspector. The man you say she went
away with, did you know him? No. Never seen him? All I know is, she met him
through the personal column. She answered an advertisement. Now, can you remember at all
what the advertisement said? Yes, I have it right here. It was on her dressing table. Thank you. "A refined gentleman of
means desires friendship with a young, unattached girl. Enclose photographs. Intentions-- marriage. Box 477." Now, tell me, Miss Carpenter,
what kind of a girl was this Lucy Barnard? Oh, just a nice kid, not
too smart but not too dumb. Just the kind to fall for some
Casanova with a smooth line. She believed no harm could
ever come to her, just because she wore a good
luck charm, some silly little white elephants. Elephants? Did you say elephants? Yes. Around her wrist,
on a bracelet? Yes, how did you know? A girl by the name
of Arlett Tomlinson disappeared about a year ago. Disappeared? Yes. A few days before
she disappeared, we received this poem. "Smile your last sweet
fragile smile, Arlett. For when the roses fade,
the north wind whispers, 'are you ready yet?'" This
one we received last December. "Move quickly to the rendezvous,
my light of heart Louise. No worry if the gate is shut. Your lover has fate's keys." The very next day, the
parents of Louise Remington notified us that she had
disappeared that night. Not a word of her since. Last week, we received this. "Elephants encircle her." Elephants! I'm afraid you'll never
see your friend again. Thank you, Gordon. Pardon, sir. Miss Carpenter, would
you like to help us? There's nothing I
wouldn't have done. Perhaps there's
something you can do now. How long have you worked
at this dance hall? Three months. What did you do before that? I came here from
New York with a show. It folded in four nights. I was broke. Stand up. Would you mind
raising your skirt? Uh-oh. Higher. How's that? Very nice. My compliments. Thank you. Sorry, but I had to. I don't get it. You will. Can you cook? Kind of. Know shorthand, typewriting? Enough to make me realize I
better stick to show business. Why?
- No great matter. Can you do housework? Not if I can help it. Could you dress a wound? A bullet wound perhaps? Perhaps. Well, I don't faint easily,
if that's what you mean. Close your eyes. Now it comes. How large is this office? Oh, about 12 by 16. Where is the coat rack? Between the door
and the window. What color are the walls? Dirty beige. Well, we don't spend the
taxpayers' money in luxuries. Describe me, frankly,
if you please. Well, you are kind of grayish,
heavyset, six feet tall. And you probably
have stomach trouble. You have a signet ring on your
left little finger, a watch chain with a gold pendant,
and you try to be hard boiled, but you're really a softie. Satisfied? Quite. Very enlightening. Do I get the job? So you know what
I've been aiming at. Female detective,
isn't that what you've been testing me for? Exactly. Our policewomen are
very clever, but the unknown person
we seek only goes after young, beautiful girls. Thank you. Then I'm to be the bait. In our trap. The criminal will follow you
in, and we'll snap it shut. But how? You'll answer every ad
in the personal column for young girls
wanted unattached. We'll write your replies, but
you keep the appointments. Miss Carpenter, there will
be danger, great danger. Are you afraid? No, not yet. You'll be well guarded,
but if you'd rather not-- Oh, I'll help, of course. Thank you, Mr. Carpenter. What about this one? One of the force's ladies
is assigned to it, sir. You answered these, Gordon? Aye, sir. Miss [? forlia ?] wrote
the letters in her own hand on her personal stationary. That leaves
these four for you. Yes, sir. Check here in pencil. We'll continue to screen
out the legitimate items. Report to me regularly. Yes, sir. What if I get in a jam, sir? We have a man
responsible for you, but don't try to identify him. And this, just in case
you need moral support. I hope I don't shoot myself. You won't. You're on the force now. Yes, sir. Good luck, Sandra. Thank you, sir. Nice, girl. Sorry, miss, but the position
has been adequately filled. More than adequately,
if you ask me. Precisely. Good day, miss. Are you the bird lover? Well, don't tell me
you want a soulmate? Oh no, miss. It was my big brother. He's very nice. You would have liked
him, but his regiment was called back this morning. He's most frightfully sorry. He asked me to bring you these. I do hope you're not
too disappointed. Oh no. Thank you very
much, and you tell your big brother for me that
I said good luck, will you? Thank you. Good afternoon. Oh, good afternoon. (SINGING): You stole
my peace of mind. Left blues too black to mention. You fooled me with
your good intention, and you were so unkind. You stole my peace
of mind from me. Daydreams filled my mind. [horn blows] I beg your pardon, but
are you waiting for someone? Well, yes. I have an appointment here. Oh, then you must be
the one who wrote me. I am Charles van Druten. Oh, you are. You need a model, right? How did you begin your letter? My letter? "Dear sir, I hope to be the-- the first to answer your--" And the ending? "I'm-- I'm very anxious
to make your acquaintance and to start work." Will I-- will I do? Will you give me the job? You have no family? Family? No. Tonight, you can earn a pound. That's fine. Why do you accept so quickly? You know nothing
about me, as yet. Well, I-- I need the money,
Mr. van Druten. I haven't a cent. Well, then, come. Are you afraid,
like all the others? Matilda, Matilda! She came. Come in, come in. We have no time to waste. Isn't she beautiful? A van Druten figure. Now, then, there is
your dressing room. And madame will assist you. If you will be kind enough to
excuse me for a moment, I-- I must prepare myself. Who is this Van
Druten, anyway? Van Druten? [speaking french] Why, he is the greatest
designer that ever lived. Oh, a designer. He made this
dress 25 years ago. Really? For a princess, her
royal highness, Alicia. But none since. Poor soul. He's still living in those days. Why? What happened? Oh, mademoiselle. The princess never
saw the dress. The design was stolen by
his competitors in Paris. It broke his heart and his mind. I've cared for him ever since. Are you ready, my dear? Ready, mademoiselle? [speaking french] Beautiful, my
child, beautiful. And now turn around, my dear. Ah, lovely as a painting
by Gainsborough. Let's see. The house is packed. My dear child, you've never seen
so distinguished an audience. Matilda, her excellency
herself has just come in. Really? Orchestra, orchestra! Yes, Charles, yes, yes. [music playing] Not so loud. It hurts the ear! Pianissimo, pianissimo. [speaking french] Better, better. Thank you. Thank you for your applause. Please, please,
you embarrass me. You overwhelm me with
kindness, your royal highness. He is-- You're telling me. CHARLES: Milords, ladies,
welcome to my salon. Is he dangerous? Not if you humor him. Oh. But don't upset him. Uh-uh. I am honored by
your patronage, inspired by your presence. Tonight, I offer for your
approval my latest creations, exquisite, inimitable. Ladies and gentlemen, this gown
was designed for the Venetian fate, given at the palace
of her royal highness, the princess Alicia. Her highness did me the extreme
honor of wearing it herself. Your excellency, I have never
seen you looking so well. Would you be good
enough to observe the delicacy of this line? Turn, my dear, turn. Thank you. ah, gracious lady. My poor captain, your wife
dragged you here, I presume? Madame, may I draw
your attention to the ingenious bodice,
the lace, the subtle sleeve? Step over here, my dear, so
Lady Winston can see you. [growling] Pardon me, please. How do you like
my new model, eh? I presume you heard what
happened to the last one? But it's quite true, you know. [laughing] [music skipping] Matilda! You have ruined me. Charles, Charles! [speaking french] Charles, open this door! Open this door! Now-- now-- now, wait
a minute, Mr. Van Druten. Please. You, you are their spy. Now-- now, take it easy. I-- Easy? You think it's easy
to steal my ideas. That's why you're here. Oh no, I-- You work for them. Who? Colbert, Laployer, the ones
who are trying to destroy me. No. You will never
leave this room alive. Oh, no, no. Wait a minute, mister. You got me all wrong. I-- I-- Who is that? I-- I don't know. I-- CHARLES: Don't lie. I-- that's the man who sent me
here, your competitor, Colbert. Colbert? Yes, that's who it was. Colbert. Oh, mademoiselle. Help me out of this. This time, I'll kill you! Here. Quick, take me to Scotland Yard! Well, didn't you hear me? What do you want? Let me out of here. Let me out! Let me-- help me! Get off! Drive on. That door doesn't
open, Miss Carpenter. How do you know my name? Oh, I know everything, miss. You were a taxi dancer. Now you're working
for the police. - Who are you?
- Barrett's the name, miss. HR Barrett. Been on the force 29 years. Well, for heaven's sake,
why didn't you tell me? We had to make sure you
could take it, miss, with all the goings-on and everything. That's just crazy. He could have
killed me, you know. He was awful close to it! But wasn't I right
there all the time, miss? I don't know! Didn't I pop right
up when you needed me? Well, I guess so, but what
happened to that horrible man? He landed right
in my arms, miss. The constable on the
corner's got him now. He's crazy, you know. Don't you worry
about him, miss. A good night's rest
and pleasant dreams, you'll be all ready
for the next one. I hope you're right. But you want to
learn to take care of your gun, Miss Carpenter. Here is your toy. Thanks. That's all right. Here's yours. Thanks. It's all right. What do you mean,
she's disappeared? Well, like I told
you, Mr. Fleming. I goes back to the
Palladium, but she don't work there anymore. Did you ask the
proprietor where she went? The proprietor gave me
the number of her flat, but the landlady
says he cleared out two days ago, bag and baggage. And nobody knows where she
is, nor what she's doing. Blimey. Maybe the poet killer
got the poor girl. Nonsense. She is one girl that can
take care of herself. She wanted an audition then,
and she probably wants one now. Coming, Robert? We mustn't be late. Sir Charles is a
stickler for punctuality. Yes, coming. You keep searching, Milton. Find this Sandra Carpenter
and bring her here in person. Great Scott, are you
still concentrating on international affairs? You didn't hear
her voice, Julian. I want to see the girl
that goes with it. If anyone calls, I'll
be at Sir Charles's. Now we come to article 9. It will be quite a
feather in our caps to have you on our board
of directors, Sir Charles. Oh, I like the idea very much. It's quite a departure
for a stolid old banker. Well, your investment will
be quite safe, I assure you. The club will be the last
word in nightspots, by far the most spectacular in London. As I was saying, gentlemen,
now we come to article 9. The party of the-- Oh, nine. Which reminds me, you will
have to excuse me, Sir Charles. I have a pressing engagement. Why, of course, old boy. Good night, Julian. But Mr. Fleming, I
have not finished yet. Mr. Wilde will hear you out. He has the trained ear. Good night, Mr. Wilberforce. Good night. Well, article 9. I beg your pardon, Sir
Charles, the advertisement. Excuse me, Mr. Wilberforce,
will you, please? Yes, Maxwell? It must be in
before 11:00, sir. "Aristocratic home
offers unusual opportunity for attractive women,
18 Kenilworth Square." Mhm. See this off, Maxwell, will you? I'm sorry, gentlemen. Domestic crisis. We've lost three of our
maids in the last six months, and all without giving notice. It's most annoying. Carry on, Wilberforce. WILBERFORCE: Yes, yes, yes. As I was saying, now
we come to article 9. MARIE: Mhm, that's more to
the point, isn't it, Maxwell? Mhm. [bell ringing] Turn around. Very nice. I think you'll make a
satisfactory parlor maid. Maid? Oh, it says here "unusual
opportunity for unattached--" I'm sorry. I'm not interested. Really? No, you see,
your advertisement was in the personal
column, not the want ad. Was it? How odd. It must have been an error. You're not married? No. You have no
steady male friend? No, not even an unsteady one. Then perhaps this job will not
be as routine as you imagined. I would say it has rather
interesting possibilities for anyone as attractive as you. The girls who
were here before you all went on to much better-- Marie, tend to
your own business! But she's quite right about the
other girls who were with us. They've all done very well. I see. Well, if there's really a
chance for advancement, I-- would you like to
see my references? I'm not interested
in references as much as in character. I like your character. I can see that
from here, mister? Maxwell, Lyle Maxwell. But in front of the others,
you must call me, "sir." Yes, sir. Marie. Yes, sir? Show her her room and
inform her of her duties. Yes, sir. What's new, besides
walking milady's bloodhound? Milady's butler's got ideas. I don't blame him, but I'd
like to push his face in. I don't mean that. He hasn't even held my hand yet. Oh. But he does peek at
me around corners, when he doesn't think I'm looking. Oh. What's a six letter word
meaning "ancient tyrant?" I don't know, but I have
something I should tell. - The chief?
- Mhm. Then, get going, lass. Will you watch Caesar for me? The things I do for the force. Caesar. "Caesar?" That's it. Scotland Yard, extension five. Inspector Temple, please. Sandra Carpenter calling in. Yes? Miss-- Miss Carpenter? Put her on. Yes, Miss Carpenter? I think I've run into plenty
of something, inspector. Three girls were here before
me who left for parts unknown. TEMPLE (ON PHONE): Did
you get their names? Well, I don't dare
shoot questions too fast. Hold on a minute. Send a man to 18 Kenilworth
Square, census report. MAN (ON PHONE): Yes, sir. We'll get the names. The butler calls himself
Maxwell, Lyle Maxwell. Maxwell. Check Lyle Maxwell in the files. Lively, now. Yes, sir. SANDRA (ON PHONE): He said
that the advertisement got in the personal column by mistake. He Lied. I have the original copy just
as it was sent to The Enquirer. Addressed personal column. Play this Maxwell along
and take Monday night off. Where to? Ionian Hall. A man who signs
himself "music lover" has advertised for a beautiful
maiden to share his ecstasy. He'll leave your ticket
at the box office. I'll send his letter
along, in case you need to identify yourself. Yes, sir. Monday night. That means evening
clothes, inspector. That's what your expense
account is for, my dear. Use it. Don't think I won't. TEMPLE (ON PHONE): Carry on. Yes, sir. File data on Maxwell, sir. Thank you. Lyle Maxwell, aliases, Maxime
Duval, Martin Weishaupt. Believed to be born in Hamburg,
passport irregularities noted. Has left and entered
United Kingdom four times since January 7th. Hmm, very interesting. And make a note for
inspector Barrett. Ionian Hall, 8:30, Monday
night, white tie and tails. - Franz Schubert, Symphony
No 8 in B minor, unfinished. Unfinished? Ticket reserved for
Music Lover, please. Here it is, madame. Thank you. [orchestra preparing] Robert! Oh, hello, Julian. Of all people. Since when have you
become a music enthusiast? I thought I might find some
talent among the highbrow. This isn't a hunting ground
for you, my dear fellow. Got a seat reserve? No, I haven't. Let's sit together. All right, fine. Then you can nudge me when
I'm supposed to applaud. What have you left? All I have left is [inaudible] I'll take it. [orchestra playing] Schubert's improving. Shh! Bravo. [chattering] I think I need a drink. A drink? She's stunning, isn't she? Very. I'll see you later. And And yours, madame? Champagne cocktail, please. Champagne cocktail. Make that two. Two champagne cocktails. And yours, sir? - Whisky and soda.
- Whiskey and soda. Very good, sir. Thank you. You're alone, aren't you? I'd like to be. Oh, some sort of phobia? Fear of meeting
the wrong people. Waiter, an aspirin
tablet, please. Your aspirin, sir. Thank you. He must be short
sighted or a fool. Waiter, how much, please. - Oh, allow me.
- Look here. I'm not in the
habit of letting-- Hold on. Say that again. What? Talk to me. Say, "is it customary for
Mr. Fleming's secretary to--" Uh-oh. Ah, so you remember me too? Unpleasant memories are
sometimes hard to shake off. Why didn't you
come to the audition? I had Mr. Fleming sold on you. He had the stage all decked
out in American flags, and he sent me all
over London to find you some American Beauty roses. And you didn't show up. And I'll tell you why, I got
a better job, one with a future. No red tape, at
least not your kind. You wanted to pay, sir? Yes, for both. Thank you for the drink. I'm being paged. Will you excuse me? Your change, sir. Who was that bird? Bird? Surely, Barrett, you
noticed his fangs. One of those, huh? Mhm. What about Music Lover? Obviously, he didn't show up. Maybe he did. Maybe he looked you
over, and decided it was too risky to meet you here.
- Maybe. - Get your coat.
- Now? Yeah, we'll force him to
contact you in some place without 1,000 eyes. Besides, all this
musical uproar is giving me a blooming headache. Look, Barrett, you go home
and make with an ice bag. I wanna stay and
listen to an orchestra I don't have to dance
to for a change. Hey, wait a minute. What's a-- what's a five letter
word meaning "excavator?" I don't know. Besides, I don't wanna miss Mr.
Schubert's unfinished B minor. Unfinished B minor. "Miner," that's it. Of course. [orchestra playing] Madame. Yes? Your car is waiting. My car? Yes, madame. [orchestra playing] This way, madame. What is this? The gentleman with whom
you had the appointment was unable to come. He asked me to take you to him. This way, madame,
if you please. This is one of Fleming
& Wilde's places, isn't i? Yes, madame. The newest and most splendid. Check, please. Oh, I'll remember you. Bonsoir, madame. May I take you to your table? Well, Mr. Secretary, it must
have been persistence that got you where you are today. I wanted you to see what
you had missed by snubbing me. Distinguished clientele,
food and wine for gourmets, devastating music. You certainly go to a lot of
trouble making your contacts. Not for every contact. Really? A drink would improve me
no end, if you'd drink it. Well, if a drink could
do that, more power to it. Excuse me. Pierre? PIERRE: Yes, Mr. Fleming? A bottles of [inaudible] '37. A bottle of
[inaudible] Mr. Fleming. Is anything wrong? My IQ, it must have
been flying at half mast. Mr. Fleming's secretary, huh? No, it wasn't my idea. You started it. Oh, did I? Though I must admit,
I rather enjoyed the job while it lasted. Did you? Except, there was
no future to it. That's why I gave it up. You're not very talkative
tonight, are you? Shall we drink a toast to your
friend who didn't show up? Those x-ray eyes of yours
don't miss a trick, do they? Not when it concerns me. How could it in this case? Has it occurred to
you that I might be the one you were waiting for? Yes, as a matter
of fact, it has. Did you send me that letter? I might as well own up
to it, confounded thing. I bungled it, didn't I? But at least the
result was the same. I did meet you at the concert. Why didn't you stay until
the end of the concert if you're such a music lover? I had more important
things on my mind. Such as? Planning an evening for you? Like the song? Yes, very much. (SINGING): Come what may,
what you ask of me, I'll give. Night or day for as
long as I shall live. While they're you,
love needs no reason. I'm yours for always,
darling, all for love. You know what it's called? "All For Love." I've never heard it
sound like that before. You didn't write that letter. No? Your technique is
entirely different. Well, have it your way. I've had mine. Would you like to dance, or is
that reserved for auditions? I'd like to very much. I'll pass judgment this time. Darling, your successor. For as long as
she can hold him. Obviously, it's
just the beginning. The old Fleming pattern. It's always the same. With a reasonable bow,
he takes her in his arms. And they dance a few steps in
beautiful, harmonious silence, while his busy
little brain composes charming little speeches. Now he begins his campaign
to sweep her off her feet. He tells her how exciting
she is, how fortunate she is, and how fond he is of red hair. Or black or purple hair,
as the case may be. Don't say it, Mr. Fleming. Let me guess. I'm sure it's been said before. Have her sing it again, please? I'll be glad to. (SINGING): All for love,
[inaudible] the words I sing, all for love, when
there's suddenly a spring, my heart moves out of
season with a strange enchantment only you can bring. All for love, am I
breaking every rule? All for love, am I
acting like a fool. [knocking on door] Hm? May I? Oh, Mr. Maxwell, come in. Sit down, my dear. Sit down. I'm sorry to disturb
your afternoon rest. It's quite all
right, Mr. Maxwell. But there's something
I want to tell you. We've talked of
advancement, haven't we? Yes. I've watched you closely,
and you've done very well. Thank you. Now, this evening, you
are going to meet a very influential friend of mine. Oh? Mr. Nicholas Moryani. He's coming here. If you make a good impression
on him, your future is assured. What do you mean? You haven't traveled
much, have you? No, just from New York here. Never seen South America? Never felt the
warmth of its sun? Ah, what gaiety, and color! Magnificent. The rolling tempests,
the towering peaks, the charm of the cities and the
people, hospitable and rich. Oh, don't kid me, Mr. Maxwell. That's stuff's
strictly for dreams. No, Mr. Moryani
has it in his power to provide many opportunities
for a deserving girl. Gee, I can see myself
in a setting like that. But what would I do
in South America? Mr. Moryani has
many properties. You might start as you did here. But the heights you might
reach are unlimited there. Oh, honestly, I'd
give notice right now. The boat doesn't
sail till Wednesday. Oh, I'd love
another boat trip. What's the name of it? It's one of his boats. There's one thing I don't
like about it, though. What? Leaving this house
here, my job with you. I've been very happy. I'll be sorry to see you go. You will miss me, won't you? Just a little? Very much. You know, Mr. Maxwell, I've
liked you from the start. Have you? I've often
thought that maybe-- Maybe someday I
might join you there? Oh, wouldn't that be
wonderful, both of us sailing away on the good ship Moryani? Doriates. Moryani is my friend's name. He-- he's a very fine fellow. You're like him. Moryani. I'll put in a good word for you. I'm sure you will. Oh, Sandra. Yes, sir? This is Mr.
Moryani, the gentleman I was telling you about. I'm very happy to
know you, Mr. Moryani. Mr. Maxwell was
telling me that-- Yes? That you work miracles. What's for dessert, Max? Ah, your favorite. You may serve Mr. Moryani's
dessert now, Sandra. - Yes, sir.
- Hey. Yes, sir. Take this. Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Would you like your
coffee now, Mr. Moryani? Hm? Coffee? Later, with brandy. [doorbell buzzes] Excuse me, Mr. Moryani. Oh, , it should
be from over here. It's all right. I'm sorry, sir. Sit down. I want to talk to you. Thank you. Delicious. What are you really looking for? Oh, a better job, more
money, a little fun. Fun. I see. What any girl wants? [laughter] Oh, Fleming,
you're incorrigible. I must try that on-- Oh, Maxwell. Yes, sir? The brandy, the
good brandy, Maxwell. Oh, I know, Sir Charles. [inaudible] Sugar and cream, Mr. Moryani? No, black. Yes, sir. Is everything
satisfactory, Mr. Moryani? Sure, Max. Hm? Send her away. Sandra, five
glasses for cognac. SANDRA: Yes, sir. Would you mind, Mr. Moryani? Sir Charles. All right, all right. Thank you. In the library. Yes, sir. Isn't she beautiful? Who is she? Why, nobody. Nobody at all, just
an ordinary girl. Pretty, smart. She's too smart. Huh? I don't want her in the deal. But-- What did you tell her? The usual thing. What did you tell her? Well, nothing, nothing at all. Did you tell her
the name of the boat? You blithering idiot. Well, that solved the problem. Have a brandy. Thank you. Thank you. That should do it. Right. Oh, Fleming, have
a brandy old boy. Brandy, sir? Robert, for heaven's
sake, where are you? Be back in five minutes. I'm sorry, Sir Charles. Sandra. Oh no, you don't. Not this time. I beg your pardon, sir,
but I'm not permitted to associate with the guests. I've combed all
London for you. What on earth are you
doing in idiotic costume? Making a living,
sir, as a parlor maid. The uniform is required. A living, eh? So this is the
job with a future. If you please. [clanging] May I be of any
service to you, sir? Is there anything
that you want, sir? In the kitchen? Yes, I-- I lost a
button off my coat, and this young lady is going
to be good enough to sew it on. Yes, I was going
to find some-- Do you have the button, sir. No, unfortunately. Would you be good enough to
fetch one for me, a black one? Very well, a black one. - Sandra.
- Please. Couldn't you get
out for a minute? I'm on duty, sir. Sir, the latest maid will
take care of the button for you. Sandra. Yes, Mr. Maxwell. Take this out, please. Excuse me, sir. Your button, sir. Huh? Your button. Oh, thank you. [playing piano] Scotland Yard, please. Hello, Scotland Yard? This is Sandra
Carpenter calling. Inspector Barrett, please. Hello, Mr. Moryani. Well, you don't
want to call anybody? Well, they're not in. It was lonesome walking alone. I thought I'd get
a friend of mine. Why didn't you ask me? We're friends, aren't we? Surely. Max told me how
friendly you are. You're very much
interested in our plan too? Aren't you? Oh, of course. What girl wouldn't be? South America must be wonderful. I-- I really shouldn't
stay out too long. I--
- No, it's perfectly all right. Max won't mind it, as
long as you're with me. Well, I suppose. Oh, incidentally,
who were you calling? A man? Yes, a very old
friend of mine. Don't lie to me. I'm not lying. What are you up to? Nothing. What are you-- what are you up to? Nothing! [yelping] Their screams. Nothing, nothing. What did you tell me? Robert, Robert! Robert, he's got a knife! Oh, Robert. I was so frightened. Oh, I'm so glad you came. So am I. I was
beginning to think you didn't appreciate my advances. Oh, but I did. I do. And I thought of
you, but I couldn't. Oh, darling, you knew. I couldn't get
you out of my mind. Hello. Hello. Oh, pardon me. I thought I heard
someone crying. What's this? Blimey, he's a
cool one, isn't he? Look, do me a favor, will you? Anything you say, governor. This is a case for the police. Help me with him. I'll go get my girl home.
- Please, [inaudible]. Leave it to me. You take care of the young lady. Thanks. By the way, who is
our sleeping Romeo? Oh, I don't know. I never saw him before. All of a sudden, there he
was, pushing me around. Well, he's not such
a bad sort at that. What do you mean? Look what he did
for me tonight. It's true. We're engaged. I'm going to marry the man. Isn't it wonderful? Congratulations. Congratulations,
Miss Carpenter. Thank you, Mr. Gordon. We trust you'll
be extremely happy. Oh, we do, indeed. But I-- I hope you didn't
reveal your connections with Scotland Yard. No, thanks to Barrett,
I didn't have to. Did you get them all? Yes, we raided the
Doriates after arresting Moryani and his playmates. Gordon has sent tracers on their
operations in South America. The thanks all go
to you, Sandra. Incidentally, Sir Charles
is very grateful for our bit of housecleaning. He was quite shocked
when he learned that his downstairs was
used as a recruiting station for apprentices in crime. I can imagine. You will let me know the minute
you have any news of Lucy, won't you? Of course. Well, isn't my guardian angel
going to say goodbye to me? When you leave,
my wings are gone. Incidentally, that man of
yours, he better be good to you. That's all. If you ever need a friend,
just remember HR Barrett. I will. When is the wedding? You'll send me an
invitation, I hope. Of course, but first, Robert's
giving me an engagement party. Tuesday at 9:00. You'll be sure to come? I'll be there. Goodbye, my dear,
and God bless you. Thank you, inspector. [clearing throats] You say they're a gang
of jewel thieves, sir, but what have the girls
got to do with it? And where do they get 'em? Oh, in various ways, such
as the personal column. They round up young girls
who are attracted by promises of luxury, trip to a foreign
country with all expenses paid, guarantee of an easy job. Then they're shipped out. And when they land,
they get the lowdown. Exactly. Some of them are placed as
hostesses in nightclubs, if they're attractive enough. Others go into the best
families as domestic servants. They're told what to
do, and they do it. And if they rebel, or talk,
they disappear permanently. Well, thank goodness
the case is closed. Aye, the worst one
in my experience. Mostly the way it dragged on. Sorry, gentlemen, but I don't
believe this case is closed. What? Do you think a gang
would deliberately warn Scotland Yard before each
of its victims disappeared? How do you mean? Do you think they'd write
poems, studiously copying the style of one of the
most fantastic mad men that ever lived, Baudelaire? Does have the
earmarks of a gang? Well, sir, what is
your theory, then? I think we'll find
in South America many of the girls who've
been missing, but not Louise Remington, nor Arlett Tomlinson,
or the other girls immortalized by our modern Baudelaire. And not Lucy Barnard. No, gentlemen, we
are not through. But sir, you let
Miss Carpenter go. Well, she's won her spurs. She deserves to be happy. [barking] Charles, take the Basels
into the drawing room. Yes, sir. Hello. Hello, Julian. My colleague and my
conscience, before I met you. Robert's told me
so much about you. Robert's told
me all about you. Hello, Julian. Hello, Sandra. Robert is a very lucky fellow. Persistent. Julian, you haven't
lived till you've shopped for a trousseau with the
prettiest redhead in the world. Charming, but rather expensive
experience I should imagine. That'll be all. Thank you, Charles. Oh, so here's where the
home fires burn for those two celebrated bachelors. A long time too, eh, Julian? Yes. Beautiful, really beautiful. Well, aren't you coming in? Now, leave her
alone, Julian's. She's trying to picture how
the room will look after she's rearranged the furniture. I am not. Not until Wednesday. Oh, I feel that I'm
barging in on you two. No, no, no, no. I'm moving up to town. Julian, you're not
leaving this house. Now, my dear Sandra. My dear Robert,
if our marriage is going to make your
best friend homeless, the deal is off. Oh, really? Really. Well, let's discuss it
over a glass of sherry. Yes, Mr. Robert. Ah, Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller, this is the
future lady of the house, Miss Carpenter, for the present. How do you do, Mrs. Miller? Will you see that the
spare room is in order? Miss Carpenter will
be using it on Tuesday before the reception. And will you take all this
paraphernalia upstairs? Oh, Mrs. Miller, my engagement
party dress is in this one. Please be especially nice to it
when you hang it up, won't you? I'll be careful, miss. Thank you. We should toast the
bride, don't you think? Oh, Julian, I'm
not a bride yet, and I'm very superstitious. Anyhow, it's an
occasion for us. Here's to Sandra. Gentlemen, I thank you. Now, Julian, aren't you going
to declaim your prerogative? You don't object to kissing
your husband's business partner from time to time, do you? Well, that depends on how
many business partners you have. Julian, go ahead. I haven't the
lady's permission. Oh. That's all that's required. Now, Sandra, I want to show
you the rest of the house. An introduction to my new job? Yes. Besides, I want to kiss you too. Ruff! Well, I'll be blasted! Pardon, sir? The chief was right. Well, Gordon? It's come, sir. Another poem. "The loveliest one reveals the
tiger's lair, knowing not what strange love's lurking there. Wearing shimmering stars
on silken cloth of blue, alas, 'tis death with whom
she'll have a rendezvous." I'm afraid, Gordon, there's not
much chance for this poor girl either, with her dress
of shimmering stars. There. Looks like you walked
through a shower of stars, doesn't it, miss? That's how I feel. Believe me, I'm
getting awfully fond of this cloud I'm traveling on. That sounds like
Mr. Fleming lately. He's a bit giddy too, miss. Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Exquisite, utterly. The stars in your dress
are only surpassed by the-- Stars in my eyes? Thank you, Julian. Where's Robert? Oh, Robert won't be long. Oh, he isn't ready yet? Shall we wait in his study? It isn't everyone who
has this privilege. Oh? This is the one place that
he likes to call his own. Well, I guess this
settles once and for all the old question of who
takes longer to dress-- a man or a woman. Robert's a very
vain fellow, my dear. And vanity takes its own time. Is that supposed to be news? Look at all the
encouragement he's had. "Robert, dear, I anticipate
loving you forever. Your Margaret." Methinks that's
where Maggie made her first mistake, no doubt. Uh-oh. There's another one. "Remember the--" Oh, don't
take it down, Julian. I wasn't complaining. You might, if
you read this one. I'm sure Robert would
thank me for disposing of this particular skeleton. I'll go up and see
what's keeping him. Robert? Robert? Oh! Bad legs. Mhm! Oh no. Lucy! Darling, people are arriving. Is anything wrong? Robert. What is it? Tell me something. I love you? Yes. Were you doubting it? No. Did you know her? This, on the
eve of my wedding, with a houseful
of guests coming? No, I don't think so. Am I supposed to know her? I don't know. I'm glad you're
not the jealous kind, or I'd have to take up farming. Did I tell you how
beautiful you look? Well, we can't go into that now.
[knocking on door] I want to show you off. Come in. Beg pardon, sir. Mr. Harley Temple has arrived. Oh yes. Shall I show him
into the drawing room? Would you ask him to
come in here, please? He's a friend of mine. Oh, I'm so glad you could come. Mr. Temple, my
fiance, Mr. Fleming. May I offer my
felicitations to you both? Oh, thank you. I wonder if I could
have a word with Sandra. We'll join you in a minute. Yes, of course. Where did you get that gown? This? At Lorraine's on Bond Street. Who was with you? Why, Robert and the chauffeur. Robert? What are you driving at? "The loveliest one reveals the
tiger's lair, knowing not what strange love's lurking there. Wearing shimmering stars
on--" looks like I'm next, doesn't it? Oh, you're wrong. Robert didn't send this! I didn't say he did. That's what you hinted! I hinted nothing. I only present you with a fact! Your life is in great danger. This poem-- what is it, Sandra? No. What is it? Have you discovered something? Fleming's desk. But he has hundreds of
pages in here like this. They don't mean anything. And the bracelet? I'm sorry, you two. Darling, everyone's here. Mr. Fleming, I'd like
to ask you a question. Where did you get this? I? That's not mine. It was in your desk. Oh, it was? Yes, please tell me why. Well, darling,
I would if I knew. You can probably get
those by the hundred at any novelty shop. Mr. Fleming, this
bracelet belonged to one of eight girls who
have disappeared from London. Well, why should
that concern me? This is the girl who wore it. She was a friend of mine. We've been trying to trace her. "We?" Oh, Robert, please
try to understand. I was working with
Inspector Temple. Inspector? Oh. So that's what
brought you to me. Oh no! Well, you
certainly took me in. But Robert! Inspector, tell
me, what made you decide to put her on my trail? Did I look dangerous? Darling, it wasn't that way. She was only doing
her duty, Mr. Fleming. "Duty." I congratulate you on
your skill at making love in the line of duty. How else could you have caught
me red handed in my own trap? Oh, Robert, that's cruel! Not at all. It's complimentary. I admire your resourcefulness. You have the evidence, the
pictures, the bracelet. In fact, you have everything,
except the eight girls. Mr. Fleming, I'm
afraid I'll have to ask you to come with me. Robert, just tell us where
the bracelet came from. All right. I took it from the body
of a girl that I murdered. You've believed that
all along, haven't you? No.
No, Robert, I haven't! Now, look, angel,
the show's over. Stop acting. [chattering] Come, come, Mr. Fleming. Surely you have more
than this to say. Well, what do you
expect me to say? You found some
pictures in my desk, together with a rather
hideous trinket. And so you consider me to be
an abductor of girls, a maniac who has hidden the bodies. Is this your typewriter? Yes. It's the machine on
which the poems were typed. You said that before. Do you use paper of this
sort, watermark Victoria? My secretary buys my paper. I don't know one
kind from another. Mr. Fleming, on the
night of February 3rd, a girl Louise
Remington disappeared. Can you tell us where
you were that night? It was a Monday night. Your hotel dinner bill that
night was signed at 8:37 PM. You left the hotel-- Great Scott, do you
expect a man to remember a date almost a year old? You would be surprised
what a man will remember when it's important. Inspector Temple,
I don't remember where I was on August the
10th, on July the 20th, or on September the 4th. I've been out somewhere
every night for years. You can ask anyone in London. Precisely, and
very clever too. A man who is seen out
publicly night after night doesn't have to
remember where he was. He's already established
a carte blanche alibi for any night of the year! And-- and what about the
photograph of Lucy Barnard? It was found in your desk. Along with about 50 others. I don't know these girls. I may have seen them. I may have talked to them. I may even have hired them. There are probably half a
dozen photographs in my mail today of girls wanting jobs. Mr. Fleming, here
are letters from Lucy Barnard, Arlett Tomlinson,
Louise Remington, and Sandra Carpenter. Each answered an ad
in the personal column for "young girl wanted." A photograph of the
applicant was in each case attached to the letter. Hardly my method
of selecting girls. No? Mr. Fleming, these
letters were found in the files of your office. My office? Yes, Mr. Fleming. Your office. You-- you met Miss Sandra
Carpenter at the Ionian Hall through an advertisement. That's absurd. But that's what you told her. I made that up. I-- You mean you lied to her? I suppose you
can call it that. Then it seems, Mr. Fleming,
that you are capable of lying. Mr. Fleming, why did you
happen to go to the concept that particular night? I told you, I was bored. But you told us earlier that
you did not go to concerts because they bored you. That was a different
kind of boredom that night. It was indeed. You knew Sandra
Carpenter would be there. How could I
possibly have known? You advertised in
a personal column calling yourself "Music Lover." She answered that ad. Her reply was in your files. That's how you knew. No, I happened to
see her at concert. She was waiting for someone. How did you know that? I was sitting
right behind her. And sizing her up. She caught my eye, yes. She is beautiful. "Caught your eye?" Hm. I saw a bearded man
sit down next to her. She showed him the
note, and then he left. It was really a perfect opening. Ah, so that you could
carry on with your plans. I had no plans. It was a coincidence. Coincidence? It's coincidence that you
own a Westminster typewriter. It's coincidence that certain
keys are out of alignment. It's also a coincidence
that you use Victoria paper. And of course it's
merely coincidence that pictures of missing
girls were in your possession, and that letters
they wrote in answer to personal column
advertisements were found in your files! Oh, for heaven's sake, I
don't know how they got there. I don't know! I see. Well, then, I suppose it's
nothing but coincidence that on the last poem we
received, describing the dress Sandra bought in your presence,
your fingerprints were clearly marked. That's my fingerprint? Yes, Mr. Fleming,
your fingerprint. And we anticipate finding
more such evidence. Blimey, nothing here either. All right, that's enough. Inspector. Any luck? No, sir. Me neither! MAN (ON PHONE): Scotland Yard
calling Inspector Barrett. Barrett speaking. MAN (ON PHONE): The chief says
you can bring the men back. He's found something.
- Righto. That's all, men. Yes, she was strangled before
she was put into the river. Note the bruises,
thumb marks on throat. And the distinct discoloration. Body's been in the water at
least two weeks, if not more. There were stones in the burlap
wrapping to weigh it down. Thank you, gentlemen. [buzzing] Ah, that must be the
missing persons bureau. Temple speaking. You have the
pictures of the body? You checked the identification? And the name? Thank you. We better luck dragging
the riverbed than digging in your garden, Mr. Fleming. Look closely, please. Do you know her? No. I think you did, Mr. Fleming. Her name was Lucy Barnard. Does that help you
to recognize her? No. No, I've never seen
ought of this girl. But surely, inspector, you don't
believe that Robert strangled this Barnard girl and then
drowned her and possibly any number of others? I didn't say he
did, Mr. Wilde. I said that everything thus
far points to Fleming's guilt. You could do much to
establish his innocence, if you could prove where
he was on certain nights. February the 3rd, April
the 17th, May the 9th, July the 20th, August the 10th. I can look in my records. We've already
taken the liberty of checking your records, with
a search warrant, of course. There's no indication
in your diary as to Fleming's nightly movements. However, we do know
from it where you were. Incidentally, Mr. Wilde, why did
you happen to go to the concert that night? I? I've been attending the concert
every Monday night for years. I see. And Fleming just happened
to go that night? Yes, but-- And the rest of the evidence? It could have been planted
on Robert, every bit of it. Including his fingerprints
on that last poem we received? That proves nothing either. Read that. Now your fingerprints are on it. And yours, Mr. Wilde. I gladly admit that. It proves my point doubly. Someone could have
tricked Robert, placed all those exhibits that you
value so highly in his desk, his files. Who, for instance? Oh, any number of people. Some jealous woman, who-- I see. One of the many
employees in the club, his secretary, mine, one of
the servants, his chauffeur. Even I. I've thought of
that too, Mr. Wilde. We've questioned any number
of possible suspects. Did you plant the evidence? What do you think, Inspector? I think Fleming could
do a good deal worse than engage you as his barrister. The simplest way for you to
establish Fleming's innocence now, Mr. Wilde, is
to establish someone else's guilt. Good night. Good night, inspector. Oh, Miss Carpenter. Did you-- It's no use, miss. He hasn't changed his
mind about seeing you. But he'll have to. I've got to see him. This is all wrong! Let me go in, please. Hold on, miss. He's got another visitor
in there now, anyway. And one at a time. That's the rule. Who's in there? Mr. Wilde, miss. Oh. Have you been
able to do anything? I've got you the best
counsel in England. Sir Roland Harcourt has
agreed to defend you, and I assure you he'll be more
than a match for Mr. Temple. It isn't Temple
he'll be fighting. What do you mean? It's the evidence. How in heaven's name was he able
to get it, all that evidence pointing to me, taken from my
files, even from my own home, piece by piece, all carefully
labeled with my name? Every crime ingeniously
laid at my door. Who would want this
to happen to me? I've spent an eternity here,
trying to discover that, but I can't. Julian, you think I'm
guilty too, don't you? No. No, I don't, Robert. And I don't think the evidence
against you is conclusive. Is that Harcourt's opinion? Well, not exactly. I-- listen, Robert. Harcourt is of the opinion
that the evidence against you is formidable but
merely circumstantial. Men have been hanged on
circumstantial evidence. Robert, you mustn't
talk like that. You mustn't even
think like that! Let the experts call it
"circumstantial evidence." I call it a rope
dangling over my head. Robert, Harcourt is
confident that at least he can save you
from that, and get you off with a life sentence. A life in prison? I'd rather confess
and have the rope. But Robert,
listen, you mustn't-- Robert! Robert, let me talk-- he despises me, Julian. I saw it in his face. Robert doesn't
despise you, Sandra. He just doesn't understand
that it's his circumstance, not you working against him. But I could make him
understand, Julian. If only he'd let me talk to him. Perhaps I can
persuade him to see you. He needs you badly, of course. Yes? How extraordinary. Hm. Well, thank you for
letting me know. [knocking on door] Come in. Inspector Temple. Good morning, inspector. Good morning, Mr. Wilde. Are you free? Yes.
Yes, of course. Sit down. Thank you. I've been thinking about our
discussion the other day. You gave me rather a
different view of the case. Really? In what way? I've come to the conclusion
that you were right. Fleming is not guilty. Good. I'm glad you agree. And yet you said the
facts were indisputable. Too much so, too many
of them, and too perfect. Facts must have psychological
cement, Mr. Wilde. In Fleming's case, they haven't. So they fall apart. Fall-- what do you
mean by that, inspector? Let's take a look at
this fellow, Fleming. He's a healthy man, the sort
that lives with the world. He's vain, but what man
attractive to women isn't? He has a temper. But who with imagination
and flair hasn't? He has tremendous enthusiasm
for life and people, and he is very honest about it. I thoroughly agree. He envies no one, has
a great lover of beauty, and he makes no bones
about that either. Agreed? Quite, quite. Mr. Wilde, I've
described the type of man who does not commit murder. He doesn't have to
kill in order to win. Our criminal does. I'm afraid I can't quite
the follow you, inspector. I'll lead you slowly. Our criminal is a man who is
afraid to meet women openly in the presence of others. So he advertises in the
personal column, correct? Perhaps. This man has no brilliant
approach to a social existence. He leads a hidden life, and
finds compensation by indulging in secret incredible fantasies. How can you know that? The poems, Mr.
Wilde, the imaginings of a man with grotesque
ideas of romance, a man who finds his pleasure
in destroying beauty, rather than in
making love to it. Interesting. To this man's way
of thinking, death is more beautiful than life. Unfortunately, he is compelled
to express this thought. Oh, come, inspector. Surely that's a slim
reason for murder. Mr. Wilde, that kind of
expression requires murder. Really, inspector, I
should never have suspected you of such remarkable insight. Mr. Wilde, may I have
your copy of Baudelaire? Baudelaire? Yes. But that's a very
unusual request, inspector. This is a very
unusual case, Mr. Wilde. That's a quotation I
should like to read you. Don't think I
have a copy here. I am sure you have. You are right as
usual, inspector. Thank you. Now, let's see. Let's see. Ah, here we are. Now, listen to this. "A shrine of death and beauty
is the sky drowned in red blood. The sun gives up his breath. Don't be afraid,
my sweet, to die, for beauty is still more
beautiful in death." The poems we received
were written in exactly the same meter and style. In fact, our criminal must
have copied Baudelaire. Very odd. Did Fleming have
access to your books? The door between our
offices was never locked. But Fleming
hasn't the faintest idea who Baudelaire is. He never reads poetry. He doesn't like it. It gives him nothing he couldn't
get from a woman's smile. You follow my reasoning? Yes. I believe I do. Then we both know who
the real murderer is. You seem to relish the cat
and mouse game, inspector. Aren't you enjoying it too? Yes, I am. So let's go on. I assume that you are hinting
that I might be the murderer? Very well, then. We must assume that I
lured eight innocent girls away and disposed of them. The police had no clues. I was quite safe. Why, then, did I risk sending
that last poem to you? That, Mr. Wilde, was the one
point I couldn't understand. But it's the critical
point, inspector, the crux of your case. I didn't understand
until quite recently why you incriminated Fleming. Oh? It's very simple, really. You're in love with
Sandra Carpenter. Yes, I am. I confess, inspector, that
you've built up a superb case, theoretically, of course. Incidentally, it would
be ridiculous to try and prove it in a court of law. Mr. Wilde, I think
you'll make a great mistake if you underestimate the
courts of this country. I confess, you've made
me feel positively guilty, sent a chill of
terror up my spine. I confess all this. But surely we needn't play
this little game any further, inspector, not in light
of the glaring fact that I learned just before
you came into this room. What fact is that? Don't you know? Didn't you come
from your office? No. What are you driving at? Why, not half an hour ago,
Robert Fleming confessed. Get me Scotland
Yard, extension four. Mercer? Temple here. What about Fleming? When? Oh. Thank you. Mr. Wilde, I owe you a most
abject and profound apology. Good day. Get me Mr. Courtney. Mr. Wilde calling. Courtney, this is Julian. Can you give me space to Lisbon? No, no, tonight. I cannot wait until tomorrow. Flight 16, midnight. Thanks, Courtney. Yes, Mr. Julian? Were you quite sure you
ordered my cab, Mrs. Miller? Oh, yes, indeed. [doorbell rings] That must be it now. I couldn't bear
to be alone, Julian. I can stay here,
can't I, Julian? For just a little while? Of course. I have a cab waiting. You need a rest, Sandra. You must go upstairs
and lie down. I'll send for Mrs. Miller. She'll give you a sedative. You need a rest, Sandra. No, please, Julian. I wanna talk to you. I've gotta talk to someone. Robert won't let me go in. Inspector Temple won't
even listen to me. I thought there was
hope, but Robert had no right to throw his life away. He couldn't compromise on
a life in prison, Sandra, a life bare of beauty. That's why he chose death. Why should he die for
a crime he didn't commit? He confessed, Sandra. He couldn't have done it. He was so gentle with me. He's good, Julian. A woman knows. She can tell by the touch
of a man's hand, by-- by a kiss. Don't think any more, Sandra. Lie down and rest. I'll dismiss the cab. Thank you, Julian. But Julian, I thought you
were gonna send the cab away? No, Sandra, not yet. Not yet. We shall be needing it later. But why, Julian? Why should we need it? So that we may
go away together. I didn't want to go alone. Well, let's go
now, then, Julian. Let's go now. No, no. I wanted to talk to you alone
like this for a long time. Sit down. We'll be happy together
for a while here. Then we'll go away. I want you to see the
river in the moonlight. You and me. There's so many things I
want to say to you, Sandra, but Robert would
never let me say them. He hates me. Did you know that? He always hated me
for my thoughts, because I'm cleverer than he is. He couldn't manage without me. That's why he hated me. He always laughed at me,
flaunted his sweethearts. He thought he was going to have
you too, didn't he, Sandra? But nobody can take my
sweethearts away from me. My beautiful Sandra. He can't have you now! Stop! Barrett! Barrett! [screaming] Barrett! Barrett, Barrett! Oh, inspector. The door was locked. It's all right. The window was just as good. Oh, inspector. Congratulations. Your timing was perfect. I was on guard against
everyone but my soul. [knocking on door] MILLER: Open up! Mr. Julian! Good evening, madame. It's all right, Mrs. Miller. Where's Mr. Wilde going? To prison, madame. It seems we arrested
the wrong man. This is Inspector
Temple, Mrs. Miller. How do you do? But Mr. Fleming confessed. That was our idea. One confession leads to
another, at least that's what we gambled on, eh, Sandra? Poor girl. Mr. Wilde did rather
commit himself, didn't he? Are you saying that Mr.
Fleming's coming home? Yes. That is, if Miss Carpenter
can persuade him to. Do you think I can? Of course you can, my dear. Oh, Mike. Yes, Mr. Fleming. A bottle of [inaudible] '37. '37, sir. And two glasses. Welcome home, darling. Welcome back. It was a rough
trip for both of us. It was a nightmare. But let's not talk
about it ever again. Your wine, sir. Darling, from now on
it will be all for love. Ah, a celebration.
