All language subtitles for 1945 Spellbound 意亂情迷.ENG

NURSE: Miss Carmichael, please.

Dr. Petersen is ready for you.

I'm awfully sorry. I have to go.

Had a perfect hand.
Would've beaten the pants off you.

- Harry will take you, Miss Carmichael.
- Thank you.

(WHISPERING) Watch her carefully.
Don't take your eyes off her.

- How are you today, Harry?
- Fine.

- You look a little bilious.
- It's the light.

I worry about you, dear.

I'll be all right.

Must we dash into Dr. Petersen's office?

Can't we go sit somewhere in private
and talk, just you and I?

Love it, if I had time.

Would you?

(CHUCKLING)

(SIGHING)

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

Come in.

You ruined a very interesting card game,
Dr. Petersen.

- You may go now, Harry.
- I'll be outside.

I hope you feel better today, Mary.

- Well, I don't.
- You will.

I think this whole thing is ridiculous.

What whole thing, Mary?

Psychoanalysis.
It bores the pants off of me.

Lying on the couch
like some dreary nitwit, telling all.

You don't really expect to get anywhere

listening to me babble
about my idiotic childhood.

Really.

My patients invariably regard me
as a wretched nuisance

during our first talks.

I see. It's my subconscious
putting up a fight.

It doesn't want me cured.

Exactly. It wants to continue
enjoying your disease.

Ourjob is to make you understand why.

When you know why you're doing
something that's bad for you

and when you first started doing it.
Then you can begin curing yourself.

You mean I've been telling you lies?

The usual proportion.

You're right. I've been lying like mad.

I hate men. I loathe them.

If one of them so much as touches me,

I want to sink my teeth into his hands
and bite it off.

In fact, I did that once.
Do you care to hear about it?

Tell me anything you remember.

We were dancing.

He kept asking me to marry him,
panting in my ear.

I suddenly pretended
I was going to kiss him

and sank my teeth into his mustache
and bit it clear off.

You're laughing at me.

That smug frozen face of yours
doesn't take me in.

You just want me to tell you all this
so you can feel superior to me.

You and your drooling science.
I detest you.

I never want to see
that nasty face of yours again!

I can't bear you.

You and your nickel's worth of nothing!

(SOBBING)

Come on, Miss Carmichael.

Silly fool.
Letting a creature like that worry me.

Miss Frozen Puss.

(GASPING) Dr. Fleurot,
I want to talk to you alone.

I can't stand that woman.

I'll see you later, Mary.

Come, Miss Carmichael.

Murchison must be really out of his mind
to assign Carmichael to you.

You may report your findings
to the new head when he arrives.

You can't treat
a love veteran like Carmichael

without some inside information.

I've done a great deal of research
on emotional problems

- and love difficulties.
- Research, my eye.

I've watched your work for six months.
It's brilliant but lifeless.

There's no intuition in it.

You approach all your problems
with an ice pack on your head.

- Are you making love to me?
- I will in a moment.

I'm just clearing the ground first.

I'm trying to convince you that your
lack of human and emotional experience

is bad for you as a doctor

and fatal for you as a woman.

I've heard that argument from
a number of amorous psychiatrists

who all wanted to make
a better doctor of me.

But I've got a much better argument.

- I'm terribly fond of you.
- Why?

It's rather like embracing a textbook.

- Why do you do it then?
- Because you're not a textbook.

You're a sweet, pulsing,
adorable woman underneath.

I sense it every time
I come near to you.

You sense only your own desires
and pulsations.

I assure you,
mine in no way resemble them.

Stop it. I'm mad about you.

I'm afraid I'm boring you.

No. Your attitudes are very interesting.

You're exactly like Miss Carmichael.
I'd like to throw a book at you.

But I won't.

- May I borrow this?
- Certainly.

Oh, and forgive me for my criticism.

I think you'd better stick to books.
And another thing...

Pardon me for marching in,
but I'm spreading the tidings.

My successor will be due any moment.

Dr. Murchison, it's been a pleasure
working under you.

Thank you very much.

Coming, Dr. Petersen?

I'm in no mad hurry
to welcome Dr. Edwardes.

It's hard to imagine this place
without you, Dr. Murchison.

Yes, I sort of go with the fixtures.

More than that. You are Green Manors.
It seems unfair.

You're very young in the profession.

You haven't learned
the basic secret of science.

The old must make way for the new,

particularly when the old is suspected
of a touch of senility.

That's ridiculous.

I should think the Board of Directors
would realize you're feeling better.

You've been like a new man
since your vacation.

The Board's as fair and all-knowing
as a hospital board can be.

I agree with you.
I'm as able and brilliant as ever.

But having crumbled once,
I might crumble again.

You were overworked.

A charming diagnosis
for a broken-down horse.

I shall always remember
your cheerfulness today

as a lesson in how to accept reality,
Dr. Murchison.

Don't be too taken in
by my happy air, Constance.

It's the least difficult way
of saying goodbye to 20 years.

- Yes, I know.
- (DOORBELL BUZZING)

Come in.

- Your mail, Dr. Petersen and Mr. Garmes.
- Come in, Mr. Garmes.

You're not leaving today?
I'll see you again?

I shall hover around for a while
like an old mother hen.

At least until Dr. Edwardes
is firmly on the list.

(DOOR CLOSING)

How do you feel today, Mr. Garmes?

Somewhat better, Doctor. The thing seems
a little less troublesome.

May I do that for you, Doctor?

Thank you, no.
I can do this myself very well.

Please sit down.
I'll be with you in a moment.

- So that's the mighty Anthony Edwardes.
- He looks younger than I expected.

He's only brought one suitcase. Perhaps
he doesn't intend to remain very long.

Leave those daydreams to Dr. Murchison.

Gentlemen, our new chief,
Dr. Anthony Edwardes. Dr. Fleurot.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

- I am Dr. Graff.
- How do you do?

- Dr. Hanish.
- How do you do?

There's still some staff members
missing, Dr. Edwardes.

These are your quarters.

They're very festive for an institution.

GALT: Dr. Edwardes, Dr. Murchison.

How do you do, Dr. Murchison?
I've heard a great deal about you, sir.

And I naturally about you.

- You're younger than I thought you'd be.
- My age hasn't caught up with me yet.

Mine has, it seems. I'm pleased to
hand over the reins to steadier hands.

I'm leaving you my library
which contains,

amongst other items of interest,

your latest volume, The Labyrinth
ofthe Guilt Complex. An excellent work.

I hope Green Manors
will inspire others as fine.

I'm very grateful.

I don't know the formal words
for an abdication, Dr. Edwardes.

May I say, merely, that these quarters
which I've occupied for 20 years

are now yours. Will you excuse me?

I spent a half-hour with Dr. Edwardes.

I must say,
I was most favorably impressed.

I intend to learn a great deal
from Dr. Edwardes.

I think we all can,
from a man with such obvious talents.

- You're familiar with his work?
- Yes, I've read all his books.

A very keen, unorthodox mind.

It would be dreadful if Dr. Murchison's
successor was unworthy of him.

GALT: He's joining us.

GALT: I think you know
everyone here, Dr. Edwardes.

- No, not yet.
- Oh.

- This is Dr. Petersen.
- How do you do?

Dr. Edwardes.

Dr. Hanish has been
showing me the grounds.

It's a remarkable institution,
Dr. Murchison.

- Must be quite beautiful in the summer.
- I pointed out to Dr. Edwardes

our various open-air diversions
for the patients.

Dr. Murchison always argued
we did not do enough in that direction,

and I agree with him.

Let me warn you that Dr. Petersen
is a frustrated gymnast.

Dr. Fleurot considers anything
beyond sitting and standing gymnastics.

I imagine you're very fond of sports.

Yes, I am, and I miss them,
particularly winter sports.

Did you show Dr. Edwardes
the elm grove?

Yes, yes indeed.

That's where we hope to have
our new swimming pool.

I'm a great believer
in the swimming pool.

There's a perfect spot for it
among the elms.

Not an oblong one,
but an irregular pool, something...

Something like this, you know.

Bathhouses should be here.

I take it that the supply of linen
at this institution is inexhaustible!

Forgive me.

That reminds me of my professor
in psychiatry, Dr. Brulov.

He could never stand a sauce bottle
on the table or even a salt shaker.

They took his appetite away.

I remember once
at a banquet in his honor,

he refused to sit at the speaker's table

because he was completely
surrounded by...

...by ketchup.

Last night at dinner,

a dimple appeared in your cheek
that was never there before.

And I detected the outcroppings of
a mother instinct toward Dr. Edwardes.

I detest that sort of high-school talk.

Your reactions have upset
one of my pet theories about you.

To wit, that you were immune
to psychoanalysts

and would end up in the arms
of some Boob McNutt with spiked hair.

If I were looking for that type,
Dr. Fleurot, I would have adored you.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

Come in.

Hi.

Excuse me, it's from Dr. Edwardes.

Love notes already.
The French school of science.

I didn't want to come to this
institution, but my brother insisted.

I can see no sense in it myself.

You see, I'm convinced I'm not suffering
from any hallucination

but that my guilt is very real.

I know, Dr. Edwardes,
that I killed my father.

And I'm willing to
pay the penalty for it.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Come in.

Thank you for coming so soon.

I've been listening to Mr. Garmes
and thought you might help me out.

Mr. Garmes, you shouldn't have
disturbed Dr. Edwardes.

That's all right.
I'm very interested in Mr. Garmes' case.

I knew you would be. He fits perfectly
into your chapters on the guilt complex.

Would you mind telling me
what you're talking about?

You're here to see if we can cure
your guilt complex by psychoanalysis.

But I have no guilt complex.

I know what I know.

- I killed my father and I...
- No, you didn't kill your father.

That's a misconception
that has taken hold of you.

I'm sorry, Doctor.
You were talking to him.

No, no, go on.

People often feel guilty over something
they never did.

It usually goes back to their childhood.

The child often wishes something
terrible would happen to someone,

and if something does
happen to that person,

the child believes he's caused it.

Then he grows up with a guilt complex

over a sin that was
only a child's bad dream.

What I am thinking isn't true, then?

No. In the course of analyzing yourself,
you'll see that.

Would you care
to go back to your room, Mr. Garmes?

CONSTANCE: Harry.

I think we'd better put him under drugs
for a few days.

He looks agitated.

His conviction is curious.

But you've encountered such cases
very often, Dr. Edwardes.

You described them perfectly
in your book.

Yes.

Yes, so I did.

- Would you mind doing me a favor?
- Not at all, Doctor.

I've a headache. I'd like to take
the afternoon off. With you.

I understand you're not on duty
till after dinner.

- I intended typing out my notes.
- Please, I need a little fresh air

and you look as though
it might do you a bit of good.

I was going to lunch
with Dr. Hanish.

He has an interesting new patient,
a kleptomaniac.

Kleptomaniacs for lunch? They'll steal
the food right out of your mouth.

- (TELEPHONE RINGING)
- Excuse me.

Hello? Yes. Dr. Edwardes.

What? Yes, Anthony Edwardes.

Who?

Sorry, I don't get your name.

Norma Cramer?

Please, Miss Cramer,
I'm very busy and I don't know you.

Some girl claiming to be...

I hate practical jokes, don't you?

People calling you up and chirping,
"Guess who I am."

Sounds like some ex-patient of yours.

They're always full
of coy little tricks.

Very likely. Come on, let's go.

We'll look at some sane trees, normal
grass, and clouds without complexes.

(LAUGHING)

I think the greatest harm
done to the human race

has been done by the poets.

Poets are dull boys, most of them,
but not especially fiendish.

But they keep filling people's heads
with delusions about love,

writing about it as if it were a
symphony orchestra, a flight of angels.

- Which it isn't, eh?
- Of course not.

People fall in love, as they put it,

because they respond
to a certain hair coloring,

or vocal tones or mannerisms
that remind them of their parents.

Or sometimes, for no reason at all.

But that's not the point. The point is
that people read about love as one thing

and experience it as another.

They expect kisses
to be like lyrical poems

and embraces to be like
Shakespearean dramas.

And when they find out differently,

then they get sick
and they have to be analyzed, eh?

Yes, very often.

Professor, you're suffering
from mogo on the go-go.

I beg your pardon.

(BOTH CHUCKLING)

- You can't get through there like that.
- I can. I've done it many times.

- You hurt?
- No, not at all.

- Here.
- No, I'm perfectly all right.

I've usually gone on picnics here alone.

That doesn't sound like much fun.

I haven't gone in for fun,
as you call it.

Isn't this beautiful?

Perfect.

Oh, lunch. Lunch. What will you have?
Ham or liverwurst?

Liverwurst.

Has anybody seen our new chief today?

He has been tied up.

He frisked off
with Dr. Petersen at noon.

It's odd spending his first day
running after Dr. Petersen

like a drooling college boy.

It'll do Constance good
to be drooled over.

Poor girl's withering away with science.

I was telling her only recently

that something vital
was missing from her life.

(DOOR OPENING)

Please don't get up.
I just came in because

I learned Mr. Garmes became agitated
again this afternoon.

- Yes, I gave him a sedative.
- I'm very sorry I wasn't here.

Nonsense. You look as if
you had an instructive time.

- Instructive?
- Gentlemen, notice her stocking.

The lady's been climbing trees.

Or lolling in a briar patch.

No, it's trees.
There are two leaves in her hair.

Allow me, Dr. Petersen.

You're surpassing yourself
as a charmer, Dr. Fleurot.

Don't run away. Do have some coffee.

FLEUROT: Dr. Petersen's already eaten,

as one can tell by the mustard
on her right forefinger.

I would say hot dogs
on the state highway.

Would you really? Your diagnosis is,
as usual, wrong, Dr. Fleurot.

Not hot dogs, liverwurst.

I'm very sorry, I have to leave
this nursery. I must see Mr. Garmes.

It looks as if we have Casanova himself
at the head of Green Manors.

Did you notice her blush
every time we mentioned his name?

It's very late.

I was going to read your new book again.

I would like to discuss it. I have never
discussed an author's work with him.

Of course, at school, we had
several literary professors,

but that was quite different.

I sound rather nervous, don't I?

Not at all.

I thought I wanted to discuss
your book with you.

I'm amazed at the subterfuge.

I don't want to discuss it at all.

I understand.

It's quite remarkable to discover
that one isn't what one thought one was.

I mean, I've always been entirely aware
of what was in my mind.

And you're not now?

It's quite ridiculous.

It was stupid of me to come in here
like a distracted child.

You're very lovely.

Please don't talk that way.
You'll think I came in to hear that.

I know why you came in.

Why?

Because something has happened to us.

But it doesn't happen like that,
in a day.

It happens in a moment sometimes.

I felt it this afternoon.

It was like lightning striking.

It strikes rarely.

I don't understand how it happened.

- What is it?
- It's not you.

Something about your robe.

My robe? I don't understand.

Forgive me. Something struck me.

I've been having a rather bad time
with my nerves lately. Your robe...

- I mean, the dark lines.
- You're ill.

(PHONE RINGING)

I'll be all right.

Hello. Yes, Dr. Edwardes.

Yes. Yes. What? Where is he?

I'll be there right away.

Mr. Garmes, he's run amuck. Tried to
murder Fleurot, then cut his own throat.

- Is it bad?
- I think so. He's in surgery.

I'll be right along.

GRAFF: He's lost a lot of blood,
but I think he'll pull through.

- What's the pulse?
- 140.

It's going down.

- Why are the lights out in the corridor?
- What do you mean?

It's dark. That's why he did it.

Because the lights are out.
Turn them on!

Doors, unlock them!

- You can't keep people in cells.
- Dr. Edwardes.

Fools babbling about guilt complexes.
What do you know about them?

He did it.

He told me he killed his father.

Put the lights on. Quick!

It's dark. It's dark.

- He's in collapse.
- He's ill.

He didn't look like a heart case.

Not heart, shock of some sort.
Must be brought about by exhaustion.

Take him up to his room.
I'll take care of him.

I'm sorry.

I suppose I made
quite an exhibition of myself.

Who brought me down here? You?

It's rather a mess.
Going to pieces in surgery.

Who are you?

I remember now.

Edwardes is dead.

I killed him and took his place.

I'm someone else, I don't know who.

I killed him. Edwardes.

I have no memory.

It's like looking into a mirror
and seeing nothing but the mirror.

Yet the image is there.
I know it's there.

I exist, I'm there.

How can a man lose his memory,
his name, everything he's ever known,

and still talk like this,
as if he were quite sane?

- Are you afraid of me?
- No. You're ill.

Loss of memory
is not a difficult problem.

Yes, I know, amnesia.

A trick of the mind for remaining sane.

You remain sane by forgetting something
too horrible to remember.

You put the horrible thing
behind a closed door.

We have to open that door.

- I know what's behind that door. Murder.
- No!

That's a delusion you have acquired
out of illness.

Will you answer me truthfully
and trust me?

I trust you, but it's no use.
I can't think. I don't know who I am.

I don't know, I don't know.

Who telephoned you yesterday?

- Telephoned me?
- Yes. There in the office.

Yes, I remember.

What did she say?

She said she was my office assistant.
She was worried about me, hadn't heard.

You mean she was Dr. Edwardes' assistant
and hadn't heard from him.

What else did she say?

She didn't recognize my voice,
that I wasn't Dr. Edwardes.

- You hung up in anger?
- I was confused.

My head ached.

- Was that your first doubt?
- First doubt?

The first time you became confused
as Edwardes?

Did anything else happen before that?

Yes.

When I was in the hotel room
packing to come here

I found a cigarette case in my coat.

It frightened me.
I didn't know why it should.

Here.

The initials J.B. See them?

When I saw them in the hotel room,

they made my head ache.

Well, they're probably your initials.

J.B., J.B.

You must sleep. When you wake up,
you'll be able to tell me more,

- if you trust me.
- I trust you.

It's late. You'd better get
some sleep yourself. I'll be all right.

I'm sure there will be no police inquiry
for a few days.

We'll talk about it
and straighten everything out

before anything happens.

I'll come in in the morning
and report you too ill for service.

(DOOR CLOSING)

I have been in Dr. Edwardes' office
for five years,

and the man who spoke to me
is not Dr. Edwardes.

He let me have my vacation
when he left on his.

I was very worried
when I didn't hear from him last week.

Then I thought he might have just
come here without reopening his office.

- That's why I telephoned.
- Show them the picture.

Yes.

- That's a different man.
- He was taking a chance.

Somebody might have known
what Edwardes looked like.

You never saw the real Edwardes?

No, I never met him.

But I felt something was wrong
from the moment our man appeared.

He didn't impress me as a scientist.

Last night when he collapsed,
I became actually alarmed.

What do you think made him break down
last night?

It's obvious now. Garmes.

Our impostor, I'm almost certain,
is an amnesia case.

Garmes brought him back to reality
for an instant.

Being unable to face the truth
of who he was, he collapsed.

- You think he may have killed Edwardes?
- There's no question of it.

He killed Dr. Edwardes and took
his place in order to conceal his crime

by pretending the victim
was still alive.

This sort of unrealistic act
is typical of the shortsighted cunning

that goes with paranoid behavior.

We're wasting time, gentlemen.
His room is upstairs.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Oh. Uh, this is Dr. Petersen.

- These gentlemen are from the police.
- The police?

- What has happened?
- Nothing to be alarmed about.

Our Dr. Edwardes turns out
to be a paranoid impostor.

He's very likely guilty
of having murdered the real Edwardes.

He's disappeared.

He is not in his room?

- You left him in his room, miss?
- Yes.

Did he say anything about himself,
about why he broke down?

No. He was not himself.
He was unable to speak coherently.

You don't seem very surprised to learn
that this Dr. Edwardes is a fake

and may be guilty of murder.

I'm used to such surprises in my work.

You suspected something then?

No. I thought his collapse
due to mental strain.

That's a funny diagnosis for a fellow

who's supposed to have
just come from vacation.

I made no medical diagnosis.

I was shocked to see him collapse
and didn't think beyond that.

We were all pretty shocked, Sheriff.
The fellow took us all in.

All except Dr. Murchison.

And he didn't say anything that might
give you an idea of where he went?

No.

He may be hanging around.
We'll have to go over the grounds first.

I'm sorry this has happened
to you, Constance.

I felt like warning you about him,
but I wasn't certain.

Don't worry. It's not your fault.
They're bound to find him.

I'll keep you informed
of the police activities.

I say the fellow expected to get away
with it like any criminal.

Nonsense. Obviously, a case of amnesia.

He hadn't the faintest notion of
who he was or what he was doing.

What do you say, Constance?

I don't know.

You know, if you were anybody but
Constance Petersen, the human glacier

and the custodian of truth, I'd say...

Yes, you'd say what?

My dear, forgive me my scurvy thoughts.
You are telling the truth.

I was going to say
that you were holding something back.

I'm a sentimental ass.

A woman like you
could never become involved emotionally

with any man, sane or insane.

I suggest you
change the subject, Fleurot.

I would be very interested
to ask him certain questions

when they bring him back here.
No matter what you think.

You'll never ask our mystery man
any questions.

Why not?

For the very good reason,
the police will never find him alive.

Amnesia case of that sort
with the police after him.

It's an obvious suicide.

The fellow'll put an end to his pain
and nightmare fantasies

either by blowing his brains out
or dropping himself out of a window.

You're offending Dr. Petersen
with your callousness.

I'm sorry, Constance, that our staff
retains the manners of medical students.

I'm not offended.

I think Dr. Fleurot's ideas are quite
accurate, but I'm tired. Good night.

Good night.

RADIO ANNOUNCER: The police have
asked me to announce

that our neighborhood roads

are free of the dangerous madman
who escaped from Green Manors.

The search for the impostor
has shifted to Manhattan.

This is WQZK Brooklyn, George Bell.

SECOND ANNOUNCER: We now resume
our regularly scheduled program.

(SWING MUSIC PLAYING)

(SIGHING)

Sure feels good
to take the weight off your feet.

I'm from Pittsburgh.

There's a town for you.

Really can meet people in Pittsburgh.

Friendly.

Fellow could live and die in this town,
and he couldn't meet nobody.

How about you and me
having a nice little drink together

now that we're acquainted?

No, thank you.

You don't have to be so snooty about it.

I'll have you know, madam, that I know
better people than you in Pittsburgh.

Yeah, I'm sure you're a great
social success, given half a chance.

Now you're talking.

Do you mind not
sitting in my lap in public?

That's enough of that.

Beat it.

I'll have you know, I'm a guest
in this hotel. Who do you think you are?

I'm the house detective. Get going.

This town's getting worse and worse.

That's all right, lady,
you don't have to go.

I'm sorry you were being annoyed.
I've been watching you for some time,

and I figured
something like this might happen.

The chief duty of a house detective
is to spot trouble in advance.

- You're not registered here, are you?
- No.

I didn't think so,
the way you were wandering around.

Looking for somebody?

Don't be afraid of me.

I've got you spotted as
a lady in trouble and from out of town.

Schoolteacher or librarian, which is it?

- Schoolteacher.
- I thought so.

They always look like
they just lost something.

- Maybe I can help you.
- I don't think so, thank you.

Looking for some man, I suppose.
Must be a relative.

And from the worried look,
I'd say a pretty close one.

A husband, for instance.

- I'm really amazed.
- I hit it, huh?

But how could you tell?

I'm a kind of a psychologist.
You know, you got to be in my line.

Now, would you mind filling in
a few of the blank spaces for me?

No. It's just that we quarreled.

And then you got sorry and came running
after him. That's the usual psychology.

But now you're afraid to face him.

No, no.

It's that I don't know
what room he's in.

He told a friend he was coming
to this hotel but under a different name

so I couldn't find him.

But I must find him and apologize
and make him feel better.

When did he arrive here?

Yesterday morning.

Give me a description of him.

He's very tall and attractive.

Dark hair, a rather rugged face

and brown eyes and one suitcase.

I'll go check on him.

(SIGHING)

Did you find him?

Well, I think we got a line.

About 25 guys answering your description
registered here yesterday.

These are their registration cards.
You might recognize the handwriting.

That's very clever of you.

- This is his handwriting.
- John Brown, huh?

Not much imagination for an alias.
Room 3033.

Thank you very much. I was going to sit
here all day watching for him.

I know you would. I'm glad to be
of service. I'm a married man myself

and I know how it feels to have a wife
come chasing after you to apologize.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

Constance.

What did you come for?
You don't owe me anything.

I'm going to do what I want to do.

Take care of you, cure you,
and remain with you till that happens.

But you can't,
you can't help hide a criminal.

You're not going to jeopardize
your standing as a doctor.

You're just getting started.
I won't let you be stupid about it.

I couldn't bear it away from you.

I went through yesterday holding
my breath as if I were being hunted.

I couldn't eat or work or do anything
but think of you.

So I had to come.

I'll get a room on this floor.
I'm here as your doctor only.

It has nothing to do with love.

Nothing at all.

Try remembering.

Let your mind go back to your childhood.
Was it happy?

Whom did you know in your childhood?

(SIGHING)

I'm haunted, but I...

I can't see by what.

- It's no use.
- You lived somewhere.

You had a mother, you were loved,
you had friends.

Yes. Probably a wife.

Can you remember her?

I didn't say I had one.

I said I probably had.

No, darling. Thank heaven,
I can't remember a wife.

I would like to ask you
a medical question.

Constance, would you mind
not prodding me? It mixes me up.

I can't remember anything.

Except that I love you.

How would you diagnose a pain
in the right upper quadrant?

A pain that is persistent?

Gall bladder, possibly a heart case,
or pneumonia,

depending on the patient's history.

It's obvious you're a doctor.

Yes. The eminent Dr. X.

And if we can unlock one tiny memory,
it will give us a key to the others.

No.

The only thing that comes to my mind
that I keep thinking over and over,

- is the logic of the situation.
- What logic?

That it was I who was with Edwardes.

"Police believe the impostor
who escaped from Green Manors

"to be the patient who visited
the real Dr. Edwardes

"in the Cumberland Mountains the day
that the noted psychiatrist disappeared.

"No trace of Dr. Edwardes has been found
since he left the Cumberland Resort

"in the company
of his supposed patient."

- Do you remember that?
- No.

Why do you believe then
that you were with him?

Because wherever we went,
I came back with his identity.

I wouldn't have come back
as Dr. Edwardes

if I hadn't known that he was dead.

How would I know that he was dead
if I hadn't been with him when he died?

Were you?

I don't remember,

but, logically,
I know that I must have been.

Logically, I also know
why the body hasn't been found.

Because it was hidden by me.

Don't you see
that you are imagining all this?

You call yourself names. You insist
without proof that you're a murderer.

You know what that is, don't you?

Whoever you are, it's a guilt complex
that speaks for you.

A guilt fantasy that goes way back
to your childhood.

I think you're quite mad.
You're much crazier than I

to do all this
for a creature without a name,

to run off with a pair of initials.

The police have not given your name
or case history to the papers.

That must mean one thing. That your name
was not in Dr. Edwardes' files.

You were in an accident.

Where was it?

What happened to your hand?
Your hand was burned.

You've had an operation
in the last six months.

A skin graft. Third degree burns.

Your hand was burned. Where?

- It hurts.
- Try remembering.

(PANTING)

My hand hurts.

Your hand is remembering.
Open your mind and the pain will leave.

- Where did it happen?
- I can't. It hurts.

- What happened?
- It's burning. My hand's burning.

Try to remember.

- My dear, are you all right?
- I'm all right. What happened?

You relived an accident you've been in.

But the memory only touched
the part of your mind that feels.

But it's a beginning. It really is.

You'll feel better soon.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

Who could that be?

I know. I sent down for
the later editions of the papers.

- You ordered the afternoon papers?
- Yes.

- They came. I brought them right up.
- Just a minute.

- Here you are. Thank you.
- Thanks.

My picture's in the paper.
He recognized me.

We've got to go. Quick. We can't pack.

(INAUDIBLE)

Listen, when you left the mountains,
you must have passed through New York.

Wherever you came from,
wherever you went,

you must've been in a railroad station.

You must have heard Edwardes
ask for tickets to somewhere.

- I don't remember.
- You will.

When you come to the ticket window, try
to relive that other time with Edwardes.

Try to repeat what was said then.
Ask for the same tickets.

I'll try.

One, Philadelphia.

MAN: Philadelphia. $3.39, including
the total with tax. Thank you.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

You went someplace with Edwardes.
Ask for tickets to that same place.

$8.46, including tax. Thank you.

What is it?

What do you want, sir?

Can you please step aside?

I want two tickets.

Where to?

Rome.

- Rome.
- To where?

- Rome.
- What Rome?

He means Rome, Georgia.

Is there anything wrong?

My husband is ill. I'm taking him home.

Here you are.
Two tickets to Rome, Georgia.

He'll be all right in a minute.
These dizzy spells go away quickly.

- He looks sick. I'll call a doctor.
- No, no, he'll be all right.

Do you feel better now, darling?
Darling?

Pull yourself together.
You're all right.

When does the train for Rome leave?

Birmingham Special.
Leaves in 10 minutes. Track 17.

- I feel better now.
- Thank you.

That's all right, I'll take him
to the train in case anything happens.

He has recovered now.

You're very nice to offer help,
but I can get along. Thank you.

Act as if we are taking this train.
We walk down-aways and then turn back.

- What's the matter with this train?
- The policeman heard us buy the tickets.

- Did he act suspicious?
- No, he was very nice.

But when he goes
to the police station tonight,

he may find descriptions of us posted
and he'll remember us.

They'll telegraph Rome, Georgia
and have us picked up.

We can't go back to the hotel.
They'll have a million police there now.

We're not going back.
We're going to Rochester.

Come on, we'll go over
to the Grand Central Station.

By the way, what are we going
to Rochester for?

We're going to visit Dr. Brulov.

That's the fellow
who doesn't like sauce bottles.

He was my analyst.
He psychoanalyzed me.

Really? What was wrong with you?

All analysts have to be psychoanalyzed
by other analysts

before they start practicing.

That's to make sure
that they're not too crazy.

Apparently, the mind is never too ill
to make jokes about psychoanalysis.

I'm sorry. I'm a pig.

I am. I keep forgetting
you're a patient.

So do I.

When I hold you like this,
I feel entirely well.

Will you love me just as much
when I'm normal?

I'll be insane about you.

I am normal.

At least, there's nothing wrong with me
that a nice, long kiss wouldn't cure.

I've never treated a guilt complex
that way before.

- We don't want to attract attention.
- Everybody's doing it.

- You both going?
- Yes.

Don't read the paper.
Let's pick up where we left off.

Pick up what?

Try to recall the first moment
you thought you were Edwardes.

- Darling, I have a confession to make.
- Yes, I'm listening.

As a doctor, you irritate me.

I sit here swooning with love,
and then suddenly you ask me a question

and I don't like you anymore.

Do you have to sit there
smiling at me

like some smug
know-it-all schoolteacher?

I can't help smiling.
That's what happens in analysis.

As the doctor begins to uncover
the truth for the patient,

said patient develops a fine,
hearty hatred of said doctor.

You're going to hate me a great deal
before we're through.

- And you're gonna like that.
- As a scientist, yes.

And if I shall happen to biff you one,
you'll consider that sort of a diploma.

Yes, but don't biff too hard.

No, I think we should go on
with our investigation.

We have some new facts
to work with now.

- What facts?
- You're a doctor,

you were in an accident,
your hand and forearm were burned,

- and you were in Rome.
- I was never in Rome in my life.

You were either there or going there.

You remembered something, no doubt
connected with the burning of your hand.

Rome. Think of Rome.

Maybe Rome, Italy.

When did you go to Rome?

What did you do in Rome?

Think.

Rome.

Yes. I remember something.

- Fighter planes spotted us.
- You were flying?

Transport, Medical Corps.
Over Rome, heading north.

- What happened?
- They hit us.

Caught fire. Uniform burned.
Bailed out.

What else?

I don't know. It blacks out.

You left the Army?

Yeah.

I probably deserted. I hated it.

I hated killing.
I can remember that much.

Your guilt fantasies were obviously
inflamed by your duties as a soldier.

Stop it.

Babbling like some phony King Solomon!

Sit there full of half-witted devil talk
that doesn't make sense!

If there's anything I hate,
it's a smug woman!

Darling, we're just beginning.
Don't biff too hard yet.

I worked as Dr. Brulov's assistant
for a year, right after my internship.

He got me the post at Green Manors.
You'll like Alex.

I doubt that. One psychoanalyst
in my hair's enough.

- What are you gonna tell him?
- That we are on our honeymoon.

Doctor, you think of
the most wonderful prescriptions.

- Good evening. Is Dr. Brulov in?
- No, he went out right after dinner.

He ought to be back soon.

Would you mind telling him
I've left his supper on the table?

I'm sorry, but I can't wait any longer.

There are two gentlemen
waiting for him in there.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

How's your mother been lately?

She's still complaining
about rheumatism.

She figures I ought to get transferred
down to Florida.

I said, "Do you expect me to sacrifice
all chance of promotion

"just because you've got rheumatism?"

Did you take the subject up
with Hennessy?

Yeah. He said a transfer
could be arranged,

but I'd probably have to start
all over again as a sergeant.

I said, "Personally,
I think that's unfair.

"After all the work I did
on that narcotics case."

What did Hennessy say to that?

A lot of things. He made some crack
about me being a mama's boy.

(PHONE RINGING)

Pardon me. That may be for me.
I gave headquarters this number.

Hello.

Yes. This is Lieutenant Cooley.
Any new developments?

When did you find that out?

No. Right. I'll be down later. Goodbye.

(INAUDIBLE)

(DOOR OPENING)

Alex.

Who is it, please?

My old friend!

- Alex.
- My dear darling.

I didn't have time to let you know.
I just arrived.

Imagine I find you here.
I would have come home quicker.

I was giving a lecture
at the Army Hospital.

- Are these gentlemen with you?
- No. I'm here with...

Dr. Brulov, I'm Lieutenant Cooley
of Central Station.

- This is Sergeant Gillespie.
- What for?

We thought you might give us some data
on Dr. Edwardes.

Data?

What is this kind of persecution?

I told the policeman yesterday
I know nothing about Edwardes.

But yesterday,
you had some kind of theory.

ALEX: I explained to the policeman

that if Edwardes took along with him
on a vacation

a paranoid patient,

he was a bigger fool
than I ever knew he was.

It is the same as
playing with a loaded gun.

COOLEY: Do you think this patient
might have killed him?

I'm not thinking anything.
I'm not a bloodhound.

Was Dr. Edwardes
a great friend of yours?

What are you talking about?
The man was impossible.

You had a quarrel with him when you were
back in New York, I understand.

Not New York.
In Boston at the psychiatry convention.

What kind of an analyst is it
who wants to cure psychosis

by taking people skating
or to a bowling alley?

I understand
you threatened to punch his nose.

All I did was get up and walk out,

and kick over a few chairs
which nobody was sitting in.

So you don't have to ask me
any more questions.

You have now the facts.

Well, thank you very much.
I'm sorry to have bothered you.

If anything turns up,
we'll let you know. Goodbye, ma'am.

- Good night, sir.
- Good night.

What do you suppose
they are snooping around me for?

Next they will give me the third degree.

Alex, I'm so glad to see you.
I was going to write to you

but it happened so suddenly.
I got married.

Who is married?

Why, Alex, my husband, John Brown.

- I'm glad to meet you officially.
- So you are married.

There is nothing so nice
as a new marriage.

No psychoses yet, no aggressions,
no guilt complexes.

I congratulate you

and wish you have babies
and not phobias.

How about we have a glass of beer
like in the old days?

The truth is that we have no hotel room.
All the hotels were so crowded.

What do you want with a hotel?

That's for millionaires,
not for lovebirds on a honeymoon.

You will stay right here.

Look how I'm living by myself
with a can opener.

My housekeeper has gone to war,
my secretary is a WAC.

And I've got a cleaning woman
who can't cook and who hates me.

Cook me my coffee in the morning,
and the house is yours.

- That's wonderful of you, Alex.
- There's nothing wonderful about me.

It's nice to see my old assistant.

The youngest,
but the best one I ever had.

But who knows now.

As my old friend Zannenbaum used to say,

"Women make the best psychoanalysts,

"till they fall in love.

"After that,
they make the best patients."

Good night and happy dreams,

which we will analyze at breakfast.

Good night, Dr. Brulov.
Thanks for everything.

Any husband of Constance
is a husband of mine, so to speak.

- Good night, Alex.
- Good night.

- You were superb with the police.
- Was I?

Carried it off
like a grade-A gun monger.

I felt terribly stupid for a few minutes
but it turned out very well.

Providing the professor isn't wiser
than he seems.

Alex? No.

Things are different here.
Someone's been here since my time.

Alex didn't think anything. He's sweet.

He may be sweet, but he didn't even
ask us where our bags were.

Alex is always like that,
in a complete dream state socially.

Do you know,
this room does look changed,

but it isn't.

It's I who have changed.
It's called transfer of affects.

What is?

The fact that everything seems
so wonderful in this room.

That's what it's called, is it?

Did the police disturb you?

No. One ignores such trifles
on a honeymoon.

- I take it this is your first honeymoon?
- Yes.

I mean, it would be if it were.

For what it's worth, I can't remember
ever having kissed any other woman.

I have nothing to remember
of that nature, either.

You're very sweet.

- Of course I'm no child.
- Far from it.

I'm well aware that we're all
bundles of inhibitions.

Dynamite dumps!

No.

- Please don't do that.
- Why not?

It isn't ethical.
I'm here as your doctor.

Well, you can stop worrying, Doctor.
I'm going to sleep on the couch.

No, that's also unethical.

Now, this honeymoon is
complicated enough

without your dragging
medical ethics into it.

- I suppose the floor is out?
- The patient always sleeps in the bed.

The doctor occupies the couch,
fully dressed.

I see you know the rules.

You remember something.

No.

This room reminds you of something.

No.

You're resisting a memory.
What is in your mind?

- I don't know.
- Yes, you do! You're resisting it.

Don't start that again.

Don't stand there with that wiseacre
look. I'm sick of your double talk.

You were looking at the bed.
What frightens you?

White lines.

When I made fork marks
on the tablecloth, they agitated you.

The night you kissed me,
you pushed me away because of my robe.

It was white, it had dark lines on it.

Try to think. Why does the color white
frighten you? Why do lines frighten you?

- Think of white. White.
- It frightens me. I can't look.

Don't turn away. Stand still. Look at
the white spread. Look at it, remember!

Darling.

Oh, darling.

You mustn't be frightened.

You mustn't. We are making progress.

We have the word "white" on our side.

ALEX: Is that you, Mr. Brown?

Oh, I thought it was you.

I was unable to sleep,
so I came down to work.

When you are old,
you don't need to sleep so much.

I'm just having a glass of milk
and some crackers.

Join me, please.

I'll get another glass.

I'm glad to have company.

Nobody likes to have
crackers and milk by himself.

When I was a young man,
I was always saying,

"If I could only get alone by myself

"instead of wasting my time with people,

"I would be happy."

Now I am saying just the opposite.

This is the secret of old age.

Everything becomes just the opposite.

Do you know who makes the most trouble
in the world?

Old people.

They are always worrying

what is going to be in the world
tomorrow after they are gone.

That's why they have wars.

Because old people got nothing else
they can get excited about.

Well, we will drink to you,

to when we are young
and know nothing except living.

Alex. Alex, are you all right?

(SIGHING)

Good morning.

Yes, I am all right, thank you.

- I fell asleep in the chair.
- Yes.

- What time is it?
- 7:00.

I was dreaming
this morning I get some real coffee.

My husband must have gone out very
early this morning. You didn't happen...

He didn't go out.
He's over there on the couch.

He's all right. He's sleeping fine.

My dear child,
do you think old Alex Brulov,

one of the biggest brains
who is in psychiatry,

is unable to make out
two and two come out four?

I should have known.

The moment I see you with a husband
whose pupils are enlarged,

who has a tremor of the left hand,

who's on a honeymoon with no baggage,

and whose name is John Brown,

I know practically what is going on.

What happened?

Only what I expected.

There is no use taking chances
with a possibly dangerous case.

I sit here waiting.

If you scream, I am ready.

So he comes downstairs,
and he's dangerous.

I can see by his face.

So I keep talking

while I put some bromide
into a glass of milk.

Enough to knock out three horses.

When he falls down, I run up to see you.

You are sleeping like a baby,

and I come back here to watch out.

The struggle against his condition
agitates him at times,

but there's no danger in him.

This is what I found
in his hand last night.

He didn't know he had that.
Alex, you mustn't think that.

He didn't try to do anything to you,
he couldn't.

My dear child, he's not responsible.

But that's not correct.

I'm just a little more experienced
with his type than you.

I grant you know
infinitely more than I do but in this...

Do not complete this sentence
with the usual female contradictions.

You grant me I know more than you.

But on the other hand
you know more than me.

- Women's talk.
- Alex, what are you going to do?

Something more for you, than for me.
I'm calling the police.

- No, no, please...
- You are giving me orders. My own pupil.

You don't know this man,
you know only science.

You know his mind,
but you don't know his heart.

We are speaking of a schizophrenic,

and not a valentine.

We are speaking of a man.

Oh.

I see. Love.

Look at you.

Dr. Petersen,
the promising psychoanalyst,

is now all of a sudden

a schoolgirl in love with an actor,
nothing else.

- Alex, let me tell you about him.
- What is there for you to say?

We both know
that the mind of a woman in love

is operating on the lowest level
of the intellect.

Doctor told me not to smoke
in the morning, but I am too excited.

You're right.

I'm not an analyst, not even a doctor.
I'm not talking to you as one.

But believe me, not what I say,
but what I feel.

The mind isn't everything.

The heart can see deeper sometimes.

The shock of a police investigation
might ruin his chances for recovery,

and I can save him.

But if he killed Dr. Edwardes,
how can you help him?

He didn't, he didn't.

But if it turns out he did,
which I am good and certain it will.

It won't. You yourself
taught me what Freud says.

A man cannot do anything in amnesia that
his real character wouldn't have done.

And how do you know
what his real character is?

I know. I know.

She knows.

This is the way science goes backward.

Who told you what he is?

Freud? Or a crystal ball?

I couldn't feel this way toward a man
who was bad,

who had committed murder.

I couldn't feel this pain
for someone who was evil.

You are 20 times crazier than him.

"She couldn't love him
if he was no good."

This is baby talk, nothing else.

What do you want I should do?

Give me time to treat him and cure him
before the police find him,

and shock him
into an incurable condition.

- This could take a year.
- No. No, no.

All right, half a year?

We should sit and hide for half a year,

waiting to find out if he's going to
cut your throat, my throat,

and set fire to the house.

Oh, my dear girl.

Even to a woman in love,

such a situation must seem
a little unreasonable.

Just a few more days, Alex,
before you turn him over.

Just a few more days,
and then if I can't do anything,

if we both can't,
then you can call the police.

You're not hiding a criminal.
There's no evidence against him

except his own guilt fantasies.
He's wanted only

as a possible witness as to
what happened to Dr. Edwardes.

But in his present condition,
he could tell the police nothing.

Don't you see
you're doing nothing against the law?

We are helping them
by investigating the patient as doctors.

Doctors who want the truth
even more than they do.

All right.

- You'll wait?
- Go make me coffee.

I'll pretend to myself
I'm acting sensible for a few days.

(SOBBING)

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

I'll make you coffee, with an egg.

- Who are you?
- I'm Dr. Brulov.

Brulov? Yeah, that's right.

Bromides. Who's been
feeding me bromides?

I gave you, to sleep.

Brulov.

Oh, yes. Rochester.

What's your name?

I don't know.

- Constance told you.
- Nobody told me.

If I don't know a patient with amnesia
when I see one, what do I know?

You don't remember
your father or mother?

No.

- Wife or sweetheart?
- No.

Don't fight me.
I'm going to help you, if I can.

I'm going to be your father image.

I want you to look on me
like your father.

Trust me, lean on me.

It's a shortcut,
but we haven't much time.

All right. Go ahead, I'm leaning.

Maybe you've got something
you want to tell me,

a single thought,
a few words in the corner of your head.

Go on, talk to me.

Whatever comes into your head,
just say what it is.

There's nothing.

Maybe you dreamt something?

- Yeah.
- What did you dream?

I don't believe in dreams.
That Freud stuff's a lot of hooey.

You are a fine one to talk.

You've got amnesia,
and you've got a guilt complex.

You don't know if you are coming
or going from someplace,

but Freud is hooey.

This you know.

A wise guy.

You don't like me, Papa.

Do you want I should help you or not?

I'm sorry.

I'll explain to you about dreams,

so you don't think it is hooey.

The secrets of who you are

and what has made you run away
from yourself,

all these secrets
are buried in your brain.

But you don't want to look at them.

The human being very often doesn't want
to know the truth about himself,

because he thinks it will make him sick.

So he makes himself sicker
trying to forget.

- You follow this?
- Yeah.

- How do you feel?
- Coffee.

Awful.

The patient is going to tell us
what he dreamt.

Fine, I'll take notes.
I'll get my glasses.

Now here's where dreams come in.

They tell you what you
are trying to hide.

But they tell it to you all mixed up,

like pieces of a puzzle that don't fit.

The problem of the analyst
is to examine this puzzle

and put the pieces together
in the right place.

And find out what the devil

you are trying to say to yourself.

Let's see.

I kept thinking while I was dreaming
that all this meant something,

that there was some other meaning in it
that I ought to find out.

We'll find out.

I can't make out
just what sort of a place it was.

It seemed to be a gambling house.

But there weren't any walls,
just a lot of curtains

with eyes painted on them.

A man was walking around
with a large pair of scissors

cutting all the drapes in half.

And then a girl came in
with hardly anything on

and started walking around
the gambling room kissing everybody.

She came to my table first.

ALEX: Did you recognize
this kissing bug?

I'm afraid she looked
a little like Constance.

This is plain, ordinary,
wishful dreaming.

Go on.

I was sitting there playing cards
with a man who had a beard.

I was dealing to him.
I turned up a seven of clubs.

He said, "That makes 21. I win."

But when he turned up his cards,
they were blank.

Just then, the proprietor came in
and accused him of cheating.

The proprietor yelled "This is my place.
If I catch you again, I'll fix you."

I'm sorry about that kissing bug.

I'm glad you didn't dream of me as
an eggbeater, as one of my patients did.

Why? What would that mean?

Never mind.

Does it make any sense to you,
what I've dreamed?

Not yet. You're trying to
tell yourself something.

What it is, we'll figure out later.

There's a lot more to it.

Go on and try to recall the details.

The more cockeyed, the better
for the scientific side of it.

It was, leaning over the sloping roof
of a high building

was the man with the beard.
I yelled at him to watch out.

Then he went over slowly,
with his feet in the air.

And then I saw the proprietor again,
the man in the mask.

He was hiding behind a tall chimney
and he had a small wheel in his hand.

I saw him drop the wheel on the roof.

Suddenly I was running.

Then I heard something
beating over my head.

It was a great pair of wings.

The wings chased me
and almost caught up with me

when I came to the bottom of the hill.

I must have escaped. I don't remember.

That's all there was.
I woke up and saw Dr. Brulov.

- Have some coffee.
- Thanks.

- Something's happening there.
- What is it?

- Snow.
- The light frightened him.

Photophobia.

No. It was the snow.

That's the white he's afraid of.
Snow and those tracks.

- What tracks?
- The sled tracks in the snow.

The first symptom he revealed
was shock at the sight of fork lines

drawn on a white tablecloth.

And my robe, which had dark lines on it.
And last night, the white coverlet,

like those dark tracks in the snow.

We'll pull the blinds down.

Dr. Edwardes was fond of sports.

He mentions tennis and skiing
in his book as valuable

in the treatment of mental disorders.

Skiing.

Ski tracks in the snow.

That's what those dark lines
symbolize for him.

His horror of them means, of course,
that they are immediately connected

with the cause of his amnesia.

Yes. A murder on skis.

Where did Edwardes go for his skiing?
We must find out.

Can you tell us where? Try.

He has told us already in his dream.

Let me see your notes.

What can we do for him?

You're not his mama, you're an analyst.

Leave him alone.
He'll come out of this by himself.

The sloping roof.

- That means only mountainside.
- They were skiing.

The father image, the bearded man,
is Dr. Edwardes.

That's very simple. Dr. Edwardes
plunged over the precipice while skiing.

And then a shadow chases him
up and down a hill.

That could mean he was escaping
from a valley.

Skiing resorts are often called valleys.
Like Sun Valley.

He was being pursued by a winged figure,
a witch or a harpy.

No. The figure was you.

If you grew wings,
you would be an angel.

The dream's trying to tell him
the name of the resort.

Angel. Angel Valley.

Do you remember Angel Valley?

No.

We can call a travel agency
and check all the resort names.

It wasn't Angel Valley.

I remember it.

It was a place called Gabriel Valley.

What else do you remember now?

Who was the masked figure
in your dream?

It was an accident.

Do you remember that, a skiing accident?
Dr. Edwardes went over a snow cliff.

It was no accident! I can't stand this
anymore. I've had enough of it.

We've got to call the police.

No. We have to go to Gabriel Valley.
You've got to go with me.

- This is for Cooley when he comes in.
- I'll tell him.

CONSTANCE: At 4:45? Thank you.
Goodbye.

(PHONE BEING HUNG UP)

There's a train leaving in an hour. We
can make connections for Gabriel Valley.

I know what I have to do.
I can't go on endangering you.

- I know about last night.
- Nothing happened.

But it will.
I've got to end it before it does.

I love you, but I'm not worth loving.

- Darling, you can help me afterward.
- There's no help afterward.

If you give yourself up to the police
in your condition,

there's no afterwards for either of us.
I can cure you.

- But you can't undo a murder.
- There is none to undo.

- I killed him.
- Stop it.

And now, you... Last night...
Don't try to stop me, I've got to go.

Guilt, guilt, you've lived with it
for a long time, haven't you?

Yes.

- Since childhood.
- What?

Ever since your childhood,
you've tried to run away from something.

You've always felt guilty about
everything that happened around you.

What was it in your youth?

It must have been terrible for you
to prefer to think you murdered Edwardes

rather than remember
what happened long ago.

You said you love me. Look at me.
Then, why am I fighting for you?

- Because I love you. Because I need you.
- But I'm nothing.

I want you to come with me
to Gabriel Valley.

What good will that do?

When you see the hill where the accident
happened, you'll remember it.

We'll go skiing together
as you did with Edwardes.

I was there, I killed him.

You'll see your innocence,
you'll see what really happened.

- You mean, because it will happen again?
- Yes.

And what if I killed him?

(STAIR CREAKING)

Isn't it true that if
the episode's repeated,

I'm likely to do
the same thing I did before?

Then how do you know I won't kill again?

Because I'm convinced
you didn't kill in the first place.

You believe in me enough
to take such a chance?

Of course I do.

We're going back to that ski run.

We'll find out what it was
in your childhood

that's haunted you all your life.

We'll also find out what happened
to Dr. Edwardes.

Did you ever see her before?

Let's go.

I've always loved very feminine clothes,
but never quite dared to wear them.

But I'm going to after this,

I'm going to wear exactly the things
that please me.

And you.

Even very funny hats.

You know, the kind
that makes you look a little drunk?

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING)

Put them on.

It was something in my childhood.

Something in my childhood.

I remember now. I killed my brother.

(INAUDIBLE)

I didn't kill my brother.
It was an accident. It was an accident!

That's what's haunted you all your life.
That was the memory you were afraid of.

It's like looking into a picture book,
an old one,

seeing the familiar pictures
one at a time.

I went to Columbia Medical School,
met a girl with a giggle,

who luckily married my roommate, Ken.

Oh, and by the way,
my name's John Ballyntine.

I'm very pleased to meet you.

Another thing, my Army record's
all right. I was invalided out.

I ran into Dr. Edwardes when
I was in the Cumberland Mountains,

trying to recover
from some kind of nerve shock I got

when the plane crashed.

He was on vacation
but I asked him to help me,

and he invited me to go skiing with him.

We went through New York.
I seem to remember

going to lunch somewhere. It's still
a little vague about that luncheon part.

Then we arrived here,
and the accident happened at that spot.

Where you saved me.

Now, let's not have any confusion
about who saved whom.

Yes, he went over there, all right.
It's still a little foggy.

But I do know that Edwardes was
about 50 feet ahead of me

when he went over. I saw him plunge.

That was the thing that set you off.
That stirred up your old guilt complex

and made you think
that you'd killed him.

Then you had to run away from that, too.

Then you took on the role
of Dr. Edwardes

to prove to yourself he wasn't dead,
so therefore, you had not killed him.

Professor, I never quite realized
in my amnesic state how lovely you are.

Now that you got your head back,
you mustn't lose it again.

It's too late. I'm beyond cure.

How does it feel to be a great analyst?

Not so bad.

- And a great detective?
- Wonderful.

And madly adored?

Very wonderful.

You'll look wonderful in white

with a little orange blossom
in your hair.

That sounds vaguely as if
it had something to do with marriage.

That's a brilliant analysis, Doctor.

(DOOR CLOSING)

Hello.

You know Lieutenant Cooley
and Sergeant Gillespie from Rochester?

Yes, yes, we know them quite well.

How did you find us?

With no thanks to your friend,
Dr. Brulov.

We made a few inquiries at the railroad
station. You left a trail a mile wide.

You arrived just in the nick of time.

I believe that's the usual expression.

We found the body of Dr. Edwardes.

It's almost exactly where
you told the local police it would be.

- You remember the spot very well.
- Thank goodness it's all cleared up.

COOLEY: Not quite, Dr. Petersen.

I'm afraid a bullet was found
in the body.

That's impossible.

- It was in his back.
- The case is one of murder.

We shall have to detain you, sir.

It's my duty to inform you that anything
you say may be used against you.

No.

You mustn't say you killed him.

Try to remember what happened
before Edwardes went over.

But when he said he killed him,
he wasn't himself.

He was in a state of
great mental distress.

You can't put him away. You can't!

It'll destroy his mind.
Don't you understand?

Goodbye, my dear.

We won't give up hope. I'm going to
fight and fight and get you free.

My dear girl,

you cannot keep bumping your head
against reality

and saying it is not there.

The evidence was definite.

We can't remove it by wishing or crying.

He trusted me.

I led him into a trap. I convicted him.

Is that real enough for you?

There is no one to blame.

The case was a little deeper
than you figured.

This often happens.

You must realize now one thing.

It is over for both of you.

It's not over.

- You will have other cases.
- It's not over. It never will be.

Don't ask me to stop, I can't. I can't.

(SNIFFLING)

Oh, I'm... I'm sorry, I...

Thanks for straightening things out
with Dr. Murchison

and everyone.

It is very sad

to love and lose somebody.

But in a while, you'll forget,

and you will take up
the threads of your life

where you left off not so long ago

and you will work hard.

There's lots of happiness
in working hard.

Maybe the most.

I will write to you.

Oh, Alex.

You're very good.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

I'm sorry to hurry you, Dr. Brulov,
but your car is waiting.

- You have just time.
- Thank you.

I'm always late, always forgetting.

A brilliant man.

I should have gone
to the station with him.

You're too tired.

I know that feeling of exhaustion
only too well.

One must humor it, or it explodes.

I shall try to help you in every way.

- You will take care of yourself?
- Yes.

And try to forget things
better forgotten.

You've got a great career ahead of you,
Constance.

Thank you. Well, at least one good thing
came out of all this.

You are back at Green Manors.

Who knows what would have happened
to the place under Dr. Edwardes?

I knew Edwardes only slightly.

I never really liked him.

But he was a good man,
in a way, I suppose.

Well, good night, Constance.

I hope you feel rested in the morning.

MURCHISON: I knew Edwardes
only slightly.

I never liked him very well.

I knew Edwardes only slightly.

Knew Edwardes slightly.

Knew Edwardes.

Knew Edwardes slightly.

Knew Edwardes.

Knew.

Come in.

I want to talk to you, Dr. Murchison.

It's rather late,
and you need rest, Constance.

I must talk to you.

Nocturnal confidences
are bad for the nerves.

- Is it something about your work?
- Yes.

- Can't it wait till morning?
- It can't wait.

Do sit down.

Now, what's your problem?

It is a dream
one of my patients reported.

May I ask who the patient is?

The patient is John Ballyntine.

I fancied that.

You're still working on
the possibility of his innocence.

Charming loyalty.

One of your most
attractive characteristics, Constance.

What did he dream?

He dreamt he was in a gambling house,
it was full of odd people

playing with blank cards.

Blank cards.

Obviously the patient was trying to deny
it was a gambling house

by dreaming of spurious cards.

One of the people in the place went
around cutting the drapes in half.

Another was a scantily dressed girl
who was kissing everybody.

With a little effort, one could almost
imagine the inmates of Green Manors.

That's what I had in mind,
Dr. Murchison.

Interesting notion to play around with,
isn't it?

Do go on.

There were eyes painted on the curtains
around the walls.

Oh.

The guards at Green Manors.

The patient was playing cards,
now no longer blank.

A game of twenty-one with a bearded man
who was evidently Dr. Edwardes.

Yes, one usually dreams of one's analyst
as authority with a beard.

He dealt Edwardes the seven of clubs,
and Edwardes said,

"That makes it 21."

I would say the patient was trying
to mention a locale.

The seven of clubs might mean a club.

Yes, with the word "twenty-one" in it.

There is such a place in New York.
It's called the 21 Club.

I've heard of it.

The patient dreamt

the proprietor of the place came in and
began accusing Dr. Edwardes of cheating.

He ordered Edwardes out and said,
"I won't allow you to play here.

This is my place.
I'm going to fix you."

The dream gives the locale
a double identity.

The 21 Club and Green Manors.

The proprietor seems to belong
more to the latter.

In fact...

I would say that this angry proprietor
who threatened Dr. Edwardes...

...was myself.

It seemed that way to me.

I presume you only arrived
at this solution tonight?

Yes.

And have confided your
psychoanalytic findings to nobody?

Not yet.

Was there any more to the dream?

Yes.

The patient dreamt he and Dr. Edwardes
were on a high sloping roof,

and that he saw Edwardes plunge
over the edge to his death.

He also saw the angry proprietor
hiding behind the chimney laughing,

holding a small wheel in his hand.
He dropped the wheel.

The symbolism of
the small wheel escapes me.

It was a revolver.

The proprietor who threatened
Edwardes' life in the 21 Club

dropped a revolver in the snow
in Gabriel Valley

after shooting Dr. Edwardes in the back.

The weapon is still there
at the foot of a tree

with the murderer's fingerprints on it.

I can't agree with this part
of your interpretation,

for the good reason that
the weapon is now in my hand.

I imagined something
of this sort would happen

when I made the slip tonight
about knowing Edwardes.

That started your agile,
young mind going.

You were having a breakdown.

In a state of panic, you heard that
Edwardes was to take your place here.

So you sought him out
in his favorite restaurant,

where he was lunching
with John Ballyntine.

You accused him of stealing yourjob.

You threatened to kill him.

He calmed you down, told you he was off
on a skiing vacation.

You followed him there

and shot him from behind a tree.

That's enough. Your story is ridiculous.

You'll make a fool of yourself.

A love-smitten analyst
playing a dream detective.

There'll be no dreams for the police.

They'll find out from the waiters
in the 21 Club that you were there.

You'll be identified as the man
who had a row with Dr. Edwardes.

There will be people who saw you
on the train to Gabriel Valley,

who saw you there.

There will be no dreams
necessary for this case.

I see.

You're an excellent analyst,
Dr. Petersen, but a rather stupid woman.

What did you think I'd do when
you told me all this? Congratulate you?

You forget in your imbecilic devotion
to your patient

that the punishment for two murders

is the same as for one.

You're not going to commit
a second murder, Dr. Murchison.

I hadn't planned to, but you're here.

You're not leaving.

A man with your intelligence
does not commit a stupid murder.

You're thinking you were not
mentally responsible

for that other crime in the snow.

They'll find extenuating circumstances
in the state of your health.

They'll not execute you
for the death of Dr. Edwardes.

You can still live,
read, write, research,

even if you are put away.

You're thinking that now, Dr. Murchison.

If you shoot now,
it is cold, deliberate murder.

You'll be tried as a sane murderer,

convicted as a sane man,

and killed in the electric chair
for your crime.

I'm going to telephone the police now,
Dr. Murchison.

(CHUCKLING)

And remember what I say.

Any husband of Constance
is a husband of mine, so to speak.

All right.

- Goodbye. Good luck.
- Goodbye.