All language subtitles for The.Uninvited.1944.720p.BluRay.x264-PSYCHD

They call them
"the haunted shores"...

these stretches of Devonshire
and Cornwall and Ireland...

which rear up against
the westward ocean.

Mists gather here, and sea
fog, and eerie stories.

That's not because there are more ghosts
here than in other places, mind you.

It's just that people who live
hereabouts are strangely aware of them.

You see, day and night,
year in, year out...

they listen to the pound
and stir of the waves.

There's life and death
in that restless sound...

and eternity too.

If you listen to it long enough,
all your senses are sharpened.

You come by strange instincts.

You get to recognize a peculiar cold...
which is the first warning.

A cold which is no mere matter
of degrees Fahrenheit...

but a draining of warmth from the
vital centers of the living.

Local people tell me they
would have felt it...

even outside that locked door.
We didn't.

They can't understand why we
didn't know what it meant...

when our dog wouldn't
go up those stairs.

Animals see the blasted
things, it appears.

Well, my sister Pamela and I knew
nothing about such matters...

not then, we didn't.

We had the disadvantage
of being Londoners...

just down for a fortnight's rest.

That tenth day of May 1937
was the end of our holiday.

We seem to be in somebody's garden.

What was somebody's garden.
What a marvelous old house!

We'd better get out before
we're had up for trespassing.

- Where on earth did we leave the car?
- That direction, I think.

Look, a squirrel.

- Grab Bobby!
- Too late. Bobby, come back here!

- You bad dog!
- Bobby!

He's got the poor little
squirrel trapped. He'll kill it.

My dear, sweet sister, it's more likely
he's having his way with our Bobby.

Fine way to spend a holiday...
chasing a dog!

- Where is he?
- Under here, I think.

I thought you had him.

He had me. There he goes!
Hang on to Bobby!

I can't!

Oh, well played, sir!

- Do you suppose he can get out?
- Certainly. He's on the roof by now.

That's a smart dog.
He'll be back any minute.

Rick, have you noticed anything?

Only that I'm in no shape
to join the hunting set.

No, I mean this house. It's the
loveliest thing I ever saw.

- Look at that staircase.
- Oh, boy, what banisters for sliding!

- Oh, Rick.
- What is it?

Your saying that, and the
house... it took me back.

- Yeah, it's quite a bit like the...
- The rose bowl there...

the grandfather clock there...

and Mother in her best gray
moire sweeping down the stairs.

- You'll be howling in a minute. Come out.
- Not on your life.

I'm going to see the rest of this.
Come on. Let's pretend we're buying it.

I'll toss you for the
bedroom with the best view.

They've all got best views.

How lovely! Why does it
make me feel I'm on a boat?

It's the light on the ceiling. That's the
sea. It's nice to wake up and see that.

Oh, how I do hate living
in a London flat.

If you're brought up in an old
house, you always hanker for one.

It's stuck. You try it.

It's locked. Family
skeletons, probably.

Oh, what a bore.

Rick, the bathroom!

An open fire while you bathe.
What luxury!

You know, this is a
Saturday-night-only bathroom.

You boiled yourself as red as a lobster,
then hurried to bed to avoid a chill.

- Rick.
- What?

I've had one of my feelings.
We're really going to buy this house.

Oh, yes? Did your feeling tell you
what we're going to buy it with?

If we both put in everything
we have, maybe we can get it.

It's terribly out of the way, and
it hasn't been lived in for years.

But what would we do with it? We can't
drive nearly 300 miles just for weekends.

We'll live here all the time,
and you'll work at your music.

My poor lunatic sister,
I happen to have a job.

Yes, and what a job...
going to concerts...

and telling your readers
how bad the music was.

It's not good enough,
Rick. Chuck it.

Down here you'd write your own music,
as you always should have done...

and as you've always wanted to.

Rick, it isn't as if you were
even a good music critic.

Well, thank you very much.
Anyway, I get paid hard cash.

Well, doesn't the idea
attract you at all?

Attract me?

Look, you come out of here.
You're dangerous.

Don't you know how rare
houses like this are?

- I like the banisters.
- How Lizzie'd love that kitchen.

That little beach
must belong to it.

It's in good condition too.
Not a sign of damp.

- We'll get our furniture out of storage
- Be calm, Pamela.

A change like this would have
to be discussed for months.

Nonsense. Important decisions
have to be made quickly.

Well, my paper has asked
me to do a series...

"Lives of the great musicians."
Reading time: two minutes.

- There you are. That'll feed us.
- Yes, until I run out of musicians.

Anyway, how do we know
the place is for sale?

Rick, life isn't as cruel
as that. It's got to be.

Now remember, Pam, no
signs of keenness.

We're just mildly
interested. Mildly.

- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.

We'd like to see Commander
Beech, if we may.

- He's not in at the moment.
- Could we wait for him?

Won't you come in?

There's a fire in the study.

I think I can catch my
grandfather by telephone.

- Who shall I say wants to see him?
- He wouldn't know our name.

It's Fitzgerald. My sister, Pamela
Fitzgerald, and I'm Roderick Fitzgerald.

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

I'm Stella Meredith.
Won't you sit down?

Thank you.

Oh, not in that chair!
It's got a lumpy seat.

- Do you mind?
- Oh, no.

- Oh, dear. Will this do?
- Thank you.

We're an awfully un-smoking house.

Grandfather had a cigar blown straight down
his throat once when he was on the foredeck.

He lost his taste for tobacco.

Can I help in any way?

We wanted to talk to the commander
about a house he owns...

on top of the cliff.

- Windward?
- Yes.

You see, we've fallen head
over heels in love with...

- I mean, it might just do for us.
- Really?

We understand from Mrs. Brown
at the inn ifs for sale.

Mrs. Brown is mistaken. Sorry you've
been put to the trouble of coming here.

Perhaps if we could speak to
your grandfather about it...

It wouldn't be the slightest use.

I'm sorry, but there's really
no point in your waiting.

Stella, are you there?

Yes, Grandfather.

In here.

Well, what is it?

Some people who came here
by mistake, Grandfather.

They're just leaving.

We heard that Windward
House is for sale.

Yes, it is.

Won't you sit down?
I'll be with you in a moment.

Thank you very much.

Grandfather, please.

I thought I made myself quite
clear on this point, Stella.

- Yes, Grandfather...
- I don't understand you.

A house you haven't lived in
since you were a child...

a piece of property we
can't afford to maintain.

But it was my
mother's house. It's...

- I can't put it into words. It's...
- Nonsense.

Grandfather, please!

I don't believe many
repairs will be necessary.

The roof is sound...

and the walls have withstood the
Atlantic gales for two centuries.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

There was a considerable sum spent
on the house some 20 years ago...

- when I gave it to my daughter.
- I understand. Well, I'm sorry...

but I'm afraid £1,200
is our absolute limit.

- Is that a definite offer?
- Yes.

And you would pay the
entire sum immediately?

- You mean you'd sell for that?
- Yes.

I suppose you ought to have the
property surveyed before we...

- Oh, Rick.
- There's no need to get suspicious.

The house is worth far
more than that...

but I have a very young
granddaughter...

and £1,200 in the bank for her
would ease my mind considerably.

We understand perfectly.

And you'd not be nervous
in such a lonely house?

No, indeed.

Or of the wind at nights?
It plays odd tricks in old houses.

Are you trying to tell us
the house is haunted?

No, Miss Fitzgerald.
No house is haunted.

But I had some tenants five years ago
who complained of... disturbances.

What was the trouble? Ladies carrying
their heads under their arms?

I declined to discuss it
and canceled the lease.

- But I couldn't cancel a sale.
- We wouldn't want you to.

One does feel that a story like
that should bring the price down.

I've already made a very considerable
reduction, Mr. Fitzgerald.

Perhaps we both need time
to think the matter over.

- But our offer's definite. Isn't it, Rick?
- Oh, yes.

Very well, then. I accept it.

Title deeds and checks will be
exchanged by our solicitors.

In the meantime, I have your
word, and you have mine.

Well, it's wonderfully simple
to buy a house, isn't it?

- Pam, where are you?
- Here I am. Look, our own roses.

Rick, it's all ours.
Isn't it wonderful?

You know, it's bigger
than I thought.

I can't wait to see what's
in that Bluebeard room.

Probably the housemaid's cupboard.
Slops, mops, dripping taps.

I wonder how soon we can get
cleaners and painters in.

You'll go back to London,
of course, while I stay here.

Rolled up in a blanket
like a squaw?

At the inn, idiot, until
you ship me the furniture.

Did the old boy tell
you why it was locked?

Never thought to ask him.

Well, now we know.

- It's the one ugly room in the house.
- Oh, it's not so bad.

That window, it's like
a cucumber frame.

They put that in later to
make a painter's studio.

Even the view doesn't cheer it up.

- What'll we do with it?
- My workroom, of course.

It's ideal. Put the piano over
there with shelves for music...

plenty of space to walk up and down,
manuscripts all over the floor...

hot pincers to tear the flesh from people
who keep telling me luncheon is ready...

stacks of checks from
my publishers, and...

- Do you think this room is damp?
- It needs airing.

It's funny it should strike so cold
in here after such a warm day.

- Oh, law.
- What, Rick?

I suddenly felt
completely flattened.

Do you suppose I'll ever be able to
write any music here or anywhere?

What on earth are
you talking about?

You don't suppose we've made the
most howling mistake, do you?

Rick, have we?

Why did the commander suddenly
come down in his price like that?

The disturbances. Rumors like that
are dynamite if you're selling a place.

Yes. Pamela, you're not going to get
scared of this ghost business, are you?

Of course not, Rick. I don't
believe in them, really...

and I'd be interested,
not scared, wouldn't you?

Me? No, disturbances wouldn't disturb
me, not for a single second.

- It's Bobby!
- Of course it's Bobby.

Now don't go getting imaginative.

It is rather a filthy
room, isn't it?

We're here, Bobby.

He's trying to tell us about
the squirrel, I expect.

- Didn't he keep his date with you?
- Why don't you come up, stupid?

Rick, look at that
lamb of a window!

Never thought Bobby
was a killer at heart.

Who's that standing out there?

Looks like the old
boy's granddaughter.

Don't waste a wave on that one.

Because she didn't want
us to buy the house?

- I think she'd been crying.
- Had she?

Don't you see?

She adored the house,
and we've cast her out.

- Isn't it awful?
- Stop making up stories.

She didn't live here.
She just doesn't want us to.

She's an ill-mannered
little dog in the manger.

All right, Bobby. We'll
take you back to the inn...

and let you order your dinner.

Have you forgotten something?

No. On second thought, my landing
gear isn't what it used to be.

- Morning, sir.
- Morning.

- Twenty Turrets, please.
- Yes, sir.

- Isn't this Windward House?
- Yes, sir. Fine house too.

Glad to hear there'll
be folk in it again.

- You have a dozen of these?
- Likely I have.

Oh, maybe you're the new owner.

Yes, my sister and I bought
the place yesterday.

Well, well. I hope you'll bring
it back to itself again.

The last lot that lived
there weren't no good.

Went away owing money.

Got out of their lease starting
ugly stories about the place.

- So that's how the rumors started.
- That's what I do say.

Here you are, sir. Nine
seems to be all I have.

- That's all right.
- Of course, there are others say different.

- There are?
- Well, that's only natural...

after the way the lady of
Windward House died...

- God rest her soul.
- You mean the commander's daughter?

Only child. Come near breaking
the old gentleman's heart.

- He's never been the same since.
- How did she die?

- Fell off the cliff.
- Accident?

That's what I do say.

Good morning, Mr. Hardy.

- A copy of Amateur Gardening, please.
- Yes, Mrs. Coatesworthy.

Well, the best of luck to you, sir.

If you have a favorite tobacco,
I'll be glad to stock it.

Thank you. Good-bye.

The gent that just
bought Windward House.

You don't say.

- Mr. Fitzgerald?
- Yes?

- Oh, it's you.
- May I speak to you for a moment?

Look here, young lady...

if you want to talk me out of
Windward House, save your breath.

It isn't that. It's about
me, yesterday afternoon.

My behavior was inexcusable.

- Come now. It wasn't as bad as all that.
- Thank you very much.

Your grandfather made you
apologize, didn't he?

Oh, no. It was my mother.

Your moth...

But I understood that...
I beg your pardon?

I kept looking at her last night,
thinking how I'd let her down.

- But isn't your mother dead?
- Yes, but I know all about her.

From Grandfather, of course.
I was only three when she died.

But I thought you said
you looked at her.

Her portrait hangs in my room.
My father painted it.

- Oh, then it was his studio.
- Yes, and she was so beautiful.

Let's go for a walk.

Grandfather will never
get over her death.

- He's hated Windward ever since.
- That's understandable.

But it isn't fair to hate a house
because someone's died there.

I love Windward because she
lived there for three years...

and those were my years.

And that's why you don't want
anyone else to live in it?

- That's foolish, isn't it?
- No, just one thing is foolish:

You're living somebody else's life.

- How old are you, Stella Meredith?
- Twenty.

You're 20, and you're pretty.

You shouldn't be wasting a single second
looking back on three little years.

- You should be having fun.
- I am.

Oh, nonsense! What are you
doing today, for instance?

- Oh, just things.
- Facts, details.

Oh, dear. I've got
to match some wool.

Then I have to stop at the library
and get a copy of Bleak House.

Grandfather and I are
reading Dickens.

You're not going to do any of those
things. I have a much better idea.

Isn't this better than
reading to Grandfather?

- Oh, it's wonderful.
- Ever get seasick?

Fortunately, I have a
stomach like Gibraltar.

Not externally, of course.

- Are you asleep?
- No.

Just wondering if our national
confidence in Gibraltar isn't misplaced.

Shouldn't you get out of the sun?

No, I'd...

I'd rather...

remain here.

Oh, please! The tiller... please!

- Smells good.
- That's mimosa. It was my mo...

Oh, I forgot. I'm not
supposed to talk about that.

- Why?
- Out of the past.

- Oh, go ahead.
- It was my mother's favorite perfume.

My father sent me a
bottle before he died.

I've made it last a long time.

Mimosa. Ever see it growing?

- No, I haven't.
- Like a million little yellow bells.

Like... Like sleigh bells.

It's smooth again.
Are you feeling better?

Oh, yes. I was about
to resume command.

Bring her about sharply.
Head straight for the jetty.

Avast the boom.
Scuttle the funnels.

Lady, please!

I thought you'd gone off
for London, Mr. Fitzgerald.

- Just leaving now, Ben.
- That'd be half a crown.

- You doing up your hair again?
- Yes.

No, no, no! Come on.

It's wonderful like this, all
loose and free and windblown.

What am I doing? Talking high poetry
or selling hairstyle advertising?

- You laugh at everything, don't you?
- Too much?

No. It's just I've never known
anyone who laughed much.

See a lot of Pamela while
I'm away, will you?

- How long will you be gone?
- About three weeks.

Perhaps she'll let me help her
with the curtains and things.

Get her to talk about me.
In a respectful way, of course.

None of those anecdotes where
I'm the family half-wit.

I hope you have a nice trip.

- I'll take you home first.
- You're so late starring.

Might as well.

I'd rather break it gently to Grandfather
about our sail, if you don't mind.

All right. Gently but firmly, mind.

- Good-bye.
- Bye.

- Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald...
- Yes?

I almost forgot to say it.

I'm awfully happy you and your sister
are going to live at Windward.

Why, thank you, Stella Meredith!

Well, here we are.

What a grand house, Master Rick.
'Tis a mansion, so 'tis.

Are you worthy of it, Lizzie Flynn?
That's what I keep asking myself.

'Tis on top of the world.

- Rick!
- Hello, Pam.

- Baby darling!
- Lizzie!

Oh, you devil for being late.

I wanted you to see everything
while it was still daylight.

Ah, Master Rick and his
friends and their cocktails.

- Got Lizzie drunk.
- Get on with you, Master Rick.

- Oh, Bobby!
- Where's our Bobby?

- Don't, Rick.
- Something happen to him?

Nothing tragic. He
just wandered away.

I suppose I haven't
enough dog appeal.

- No, seriously, Pam.
- He loathed the country.

You know, no nice dustbins and no
sporting interest in finding a tree.

Never heard of a
terrier walking out.

Ah, Miss Pamela, I'm
dreaming on me feet.

Pam, it's perfect. You're
practically straight.

There's some soup in the kitchen.

Look at Whiskey now.
He knows where the food is.

- How did the furniture fit in?
- Beautifully.

I saw the grandfather clock.
It waved both hands at me.

If the soup's burned,
Lizzie will spank me.

Get along with you, miss.

The saints be praised!
There's me old rocker.

It's been 10 years since you
nestled your bustle in that.

- You've done wonders, Pam.
- Thanks.

Tell me, what does Stella
think of the changes?

You mean Stella Meredith?

- I haven't set eyes on her.
- You haven't?

I did write and ask her to tea.
Got a reply from the commander...

saying she wasn't strong
enough to accept invitations.

Not strong enough?

I expect it's us. We just
aren't nice to know.

But Stella was crazy to make
friends with you. She told me.

But where did you see her?

Oh, uh, just before
I left for London.

Why, you colossal bluff!

You were just as sorry
for that child as I was.

Stop pushing her into the nursery.
She's 20. She said so herself.

You like her.

I can't help it.

There's kind of a sleeping-beauty
magic about the kid.

I'd thought I'd done something
toward breaking the spell.

Seems not.

Prince Charmless, that's me.

That'll do for
tonight, Mr. Roderick.

It's time for Miss Pamela to
go to bed. She looks tired out.

You're an old tyrant, Lizzie Flynn.

But you're perfectly right.

Put the lights out, Rick.

Now let's see. I think I turn it
down and blow down the chimney.

Haven't done that
since I was a kid.

Come now, Whiskey. Good boy.

- Are you having him in your room?
- He's used to it, the creature.

Get along up, now.

Haven't I carried you
enough this day?

- Get on up, now.
- I'll give him a start.

What in the name of all the saints?

Well, he's not used to
traveling and strange houses.

He'll find me if he wants me.

I've not slept with the sound of
the sea since I left Ireland.

Would you like to go back there?

- I'd sooner see meself dead.
- Ah, go on with yez.

Why, whatever ails these candles?

It seems to be a rather
drafty staircase.

Rick, I've had a swim every
day from our own beach...

and I've started to make a garden.

You learn the oddest
things when you garden.

Did you know there's an
upside-down to seeds?

- No. Good night, Pam.
- Good night, Rick.

- Good night, Master Rick.
- Good night, Liz.

Come in.

I thought you were asleep.

It turns cold in the
night here sometimes.

Oh, thanks.

Rick, there's something I
want to talk to you about.

Do you have any nice cast iron
I can swap for this mattress?

- We'll give you another tomorrow.
- Nothing will keep me awake tonight.

What price our house,
Pam? Pretty good, hmm?

- You're really pleased with it?
- I was never so happy in my life.

Oh, you starred to say
something. What?

It was just that I was the one
that got you to buy the house...

And I didn't appear very
appreciative. Is that it?

It'll wait until tomorrow.

Bless you, Rick. Sleep well.

You too.

These are pretty good apples.

That concludes our
broadcast for today.

Good night, everyone. Good night.

Pam, is that you?

- Rick.
- Pamela.

- We don't want to wake Lizzie.
- But isn't it Lizzie?

No, it isn't Lizzie.

It's coming from downstairs.

It comes from
everywhere and nowhere.

Take hold of yourself, Pam. I'm
going down and search the place.

Rick, I've searched.

- There's never anything there.
- "Never"? You mean you've heard it before?

YES.

Rick, it's true, isn't it? The sound,
I mean. You're hearing it too?

- Of course I'm hearing it.
- I wasn't sure.

- Pam...
- I thought I might be going crazy.

- Was that why you didn't tell me?
- Yes, that, and...

Rick, it's your home. It's
all we've got to live in.

- It sounds so heartbroken.
- Now don't get rattled, Pam.

- There's a logical explanation for this.
- Such as?

You can't expect me to give it to you
offhand, but it stands to reason.

- Does it come every night?
- No.

Just when you begin to think
you dreamt it, it comes again.

Be calm, Pam. Be calm.

I'm all right.

It'll stop soon now.

How do you know?

It dies away at dawn.

Listen.

That's the dawn breeze.

- Well, that's all for tonight.
- It's a pity, really.

Hardly gives one time to look
into it. Now listen, dear.

Look, let's talk tomorrow.
I'll die if I don't get some sleep.

Pam, leave your door open
in case you're nervous.

All right, Rick.

And remember, you haven't
a thing to worry about.

This business can be
scientifically explained.

Probably a loose wire hidden around
the house, acting as an aerial...

picking up the sound of some
woman in the village crying.

Was she crying when the last
tenants were frightened out?

Well, maybe she had a sad life.

Anyway...

I'm here now, and I'm
not the least rattled.

Not the least little
bit in the world.

It's just silly to be upset.

Last night I heard it
myself, Commander Beech.

A perfectly appalling
sound of crying.

Mr. Fitzgerald, Windward
House belongs to you now.

- Why do you bring this matter to me?
- Because we want information.

I for practical reasons, and my sister
because she believes it's a ghost.

- She'd like to know what the ghost wants.
- What utter bosh!

Bosh, I agree, but when
did the noises start?

- You inherited the house, I believe.
- From my grandmother.

And there were no disturbances
there in her time?

None. And if there are noises now,
they're from perfectly natural causes.

An echo from a subterranean
cave, perhaps.

That would've been heard
in your grandmother's day.

Erosion may have changed the
structure of the cliffs.

- It's not' a bad suggestion.
- May I come in, Grandfather?

No, you run along to church.
I'll join you in a few minutes.

- But I want to see Mr. Fitzgerald.
- I'm glad you're better.

"Better"? But I haven't been ill.

Stella merely suffers
with a general delicacy.

- She doesn't accept invitations.
- Never?

Perhaps I'd better frankly state she's
not strong enough to make new friends.

- Grandfather!
- Run along, my dear.

We're discussing
something privately.

Is there anything
else, Mr. Fitzgerald?

Just one more question. Was Stella's
mother ever troubled at Windward House?

- What do you mean?
- Did she hear the crying?

My daughter was not one to
circulate ridiculous rumors.

If she'd heard this, she'd have
mentioned it, and she never did?

Certainly not.

Then the trouble must have
begun since her death.

- Do you mean to imply...
- No, I'm merely trying to set the date.

- I didn't mean that your daughter haunts
- How dare you suggest such a thing?

Really, I'm most desperately
sorry. Please forgive me.

Very well. I accept your apology.
But please understand one thing.

Your purchase of the property doesn't
establish a social bond between us.

What's the matter with us? Why
don't you allow Stella to see us?

Because I don't want to.

And I must ask for your word not
to send her any more invitations.

I'll give you no such undertaking.

Very well. I shall know how
to deal with the matter.

Stella is not going
inside that house!

Great Scott! You believe
the place is haunted.

I hoped you'd come along.
I wanted to talk to you.

- Quick, drive around the next corner.
- Get in.

You had four freckles on
the boat. They've gone.

I couldn't go to see your sister.
Grandfather's been ill.

Turn here.

Now, what is this about
your not seeing Pamela?

At the mention of me coming to Windward,
Grandfather almost had an attack.

You feel your mother
never would've left him?

No, never.

Yet she did when she married, and
he seemed to survive very nicely.

He was younger then.

Oh, so you're going to turn into
one of these dim little ladies...

who fill hot-water bottles
for elderly relatives.

- Good-bye, Stella Meredith.
- I'm not now.

You're here now.

That's practically the nicest
sentence that ever was spoken.

Would you and your sister be in
if I came to Windward tonight?

Yes.

Supper's at 8:00, but please
come as early as you can.

Bob down. He's passing
the end of the lane.

He's gone.

How will I ever get to church?

Sit on the floor, and
I'll drive you past him.

- Drive to the side gate, please.
- Yes.

- Like a lift, Commander?
- No, thank you.

Oh! What a moment!

- Were you scared?
- Yes, but it was wonderful.

Well, good-bye. Say a
little prayer for me.

Golly! How am I ever going to
feel meek enough for church?

Oh, Stella.

Here's your prayer book and purse.

- Good-bye.
- Good-bye.

Thank you, Mrs. Carlton, Colonel.

- Until next Sunday.
- Yes.

- Good-bye.
- Good-bye.

You seem very silent, Stella.

What have you against the
Fitzgeralds, Grandfather?

Well, they're hardly our sort.

I've decided to make
friends with them.

You'll do no such thing.

Why do you say that, Grandfather?

I do not consider it suitable for
you to visit Windward House.

- Not suitable?
- I can't discuss the matter.

- That's all the reason I'm going to get?
- It will have to suffice, yes.

No, Grandfather. I'm 20, and I'm...

and it's time I stopped
living somebody else's life.

- I shall go to Windward whenever I please.
- Did you hear what I said?

It isn't any good,
Grandfather. I'm on strike.

Stella, go to your room.

No use trying to lock me in.
There isn't any key.

Now don't be impertinent.

- Hello, Annie.
- Dinner will be late, miss.

I'm having ever such
trouble with the lamb.

You'd better tell the commander.

Yes, it's very urgent. Will
you try to hurry the call?

Thank you. I'm telephoning.
Close that door.

It's just that dinner will be late,
sir. It's the lamb being awkward.

I won't be here for dinner.
And take some to Stella on a tray.

And close that door!

May I speak to Miss Holloway?

It's a trunk call, Miss Holloway.
A Commander Beech.

Thank you.

Yes, Commander Beech?

I want to consult you about
Stella, Miss Holloway.

It's a matter of the utmost urgency.
I can be with you late this afternoon.

I can't see you till this evening, but I
shall be glad to put you up for the night.

Isn't it a little late to
consult me about Stella?

Yes, I know that, but I
beg you to help me now.

You're the only human being in
the world to whom I can turn.

The only person who wouldn't
think me demented...

because I believe a house can
be filled with malignity.

Malignity directed
against a certain child.

The dining room isn't finished yet.

How glad this house must
be to be lived in again.

I must dash back to Lizzie.
We're fighting...

over how much sherry you
put in a tipsy pudding.

She wants to make it dead drunk.

- Do you like tipsy pudding?
- I think I like everything to eat.

Show her the rest of the
house before it's dark.

You've really never been
here since you were three?

Not inside.

But I walked here once when I was
ten and peered in at the windows.

There was a stupendous row...

and the next week I got packed
off to a school in Brussels.

- Did your grandfather give you reasons?
- "Reasons"?

If I'd ever been reasoned with,
I might have been a better child.

- My old nursery's through there, isn't it?
- I should think so. It had nursery wallpaper.

How pretty your sister's made it!

What is it?

Something I'd forgotten.

When I was little...

I used to have a dream
about this room.

You did?

I'd be lying here,
and it'd be dark...

and cold and frightening.

And then... a little
flame would come.

Just a tiny point
of light so big...

and yet suddenly
everything would be...

warm and light and peaceful.

And then...

someone would come and put the
flame out, and I'd be terrified.

Perhaps your mother used
to bring you a night light.

But who'd take it out?

May I see the studio
before it's dark?

It's rather messy in here.
I was thinking of skipping this.

This is where my father
painted my mother's picture.

Strange to think of them here.

My father would have his easel
to the light, wouldn't he?

And perhaps my mother would sit
there in her soft, white dress.

But sometimes, of course,
he'd paint the other one.

- "The other one"?
- He had a model, you know.

A foreign girl.

I've never been able to
find out much about her.

People get awfully
hush-hush when I ask them.

Between you and me and
the grand piano...

I suspect Father was
a bit of a bad hat.

- Artistic temperament?
- Very artistic, I'm afraid.

But sometimes, you know,
it's quite a comfort to me.

- In what way?
- If Father had been as good as Mother...

think how good I'd have been.

It's getting almost too
dark to see you properly.

Won't you play something?

It's about time you asked me that.

- Oh, please go on.
- Just a second.

- You made that up?
- Yes.

- But you must be brilliant!
- Oh, dazzling.

- People have to wear sunglasses.
- What's it called?

It's a serenade.
"To Stella by Starlight."

You mean, this Stella?

But it's the most exciting thing
that's ever happened to me!

Is it?

Please go on.

You see, this is the only
way I can paint you.

Some black keys and some white...

and fingers that are
much too clumsy...

but you're in it somehow.

It's gone awfully sad.
Why have you changed it?

It just came out that way.

What's the matter? What is it,
Stella? You're trembling.

I was wicked. How could I ever
have laughed in her house?

But it's my house
now, Pam's and mine.

But she was so young, and
she died so cruelly.

Stella!

Stella!

- Rick, what is it?
- I don't know. It's that blasted room!

Stella, stop!

Stella!

For heaven's sake, Stella!

- What's the matter, Rick?
- You were going over the edge.

- Was I?
- If I hadn't caught you.

I hadn't any sense
of danger at all.

Look.

I think this is where my mother
fell. By the dead tree.

Are you all right?

Quite, thanks, except
dying of hunger.

Then you must come
and get some food.

Do you know this is our very
first party in this house?

- Is it?
- Shall we sing her the song?

His introduction to music.

Stay here.

Lizzie, where are you?
What's the matter?

Mr. Roderick! Mr. Roderick!

- What is it, Lizzie? Are you hurt?
- The studio door...

there's something there.

Look, Lizzie, there's
nothing there.

There was! I saw it
with me own two eyes!

What?

It was like a mist...
a crawling mist.

You imagined it just because you
heard the house was haunted.

I'd heard nothing of the
sort, Mr. Roderick.

Holy saints! Are you
tellin' me it is?

For heaven's sake,
Rick, what is it?

Oh, Lizzie's dreamed up
a ghost for herself.

Come along, Lizzie.

Oh, darling Lizzie.

I'd just come upstairs
to turn down the beds.

There it stood by the studio
door, looking down at me.

- A woman, it was.
- Four steps back, it was just a mist.

'Twas a woman. I swear it.

The ghost of a woman!

Come and sit down. You'll
be all right in a minute.

- Have some sherry, Lizzie.
- Just a drop.

I'll not sleep in this house
another night, Mr. Roderick.

- Come now, Lizzie.
- I will not! I'd sooner die.

She can go to the Jessup farm.

What's happened to Stella?

She was with me when I came in.

Stella?

Stella, where are you?

Stella, are you in the house?

Stella!

Pamela! Pamela!

Stella, darling.

Yes, Rick? What's happened?

- Rick, what is it?
- She's in a dead faint.

- This room, it's like an icebox.
- Colder.

We'll have to get a doctor.

There's one at the first
house in the village.

That's a girl.

Well, what kind of
bogey did you see?

I didn't see anything.

Fainted out of sheer
cussedness, huh?

I can only remember
the cold coming.

Hello, Stella.

- Hello.
- You suddenly felt cold?

It wasn't just that.

- The room went cold, and I was frightened.
- Well, you just forget about it for a bit.

Miss Fitzgerald's got some soup for you.
See if you can get her to take some.

She'll do all right, but it's
quite a nasty case of shock.

- That's all? You're quite sure?
- Sit down.

You see, I brought her here.

Take that neat.

Can, uh... Can she
stay the night here?

Oh, yes. But suppose that
spook starts howling?

Oh, your spook.

It's just an echo from a cave
probably, but it sounds like a spook.

I'd rather risk it
than move her tonight.

There was some rather queer
business earlier this evening.

The cliff is so close, and she walked right
to the edge. If I hadn't caught her...

We'll keep a close watch.

- Did she take her soup?
- Eight spoonfuls, then drifted off to sleep.

Splendid. She'll
sleep for hours now.

- We'll keep on watch here.
- You'd better go to bed, Miss Fitzgerald.

- You're looking all in.
- I'd rather watch with you.

- Would you like some coffee?
- Thanks.

Pam, who do you think's
moved in with Dr. Scott?

- Our Bobby.
- No!

I found the poor dog in the street.
He was in a pitiable state of nerves.

- How is he now?
- Fine.

- Bobby was the first to see the ghost.
- See? Pamela believes it.

Rick, stop hiding your head in the sand.
You heard the sounds last night.

Lizzie's been half frightened
out of her wits...

and Stella's been in
deadly danger twice.

Everyone in the village
knows the house is strange.

I expected support from you.

You must tell us everything you know about
the place after I've made the coffee.

Unfortunately I'm a
newcomer to Biddlecombe.

I've only lived here 12 years.

It's not ancient history
to us. Please go on.

The model's name was Carmel.

She was a Spanish gypsy,
and a thorough bad lot.

So was Meredith, from
what I can gather.

- Didn't Mrs. Meredith suspect? - She
must have. The thing was an open scandal.

The girl and he'd have been stoned out
of the village if not for Mary Meredith.

She was very much admired. I suppose
she just accepted the situation.

And she's still sobbing
her hear: out about it.

- Where's Carmel now?
- Dead. She died in this very house...

a week after Mary fell from the cliff trying
to save her from suicide. Ironic, wasn't it?

- Is it known why the girl tried to kill herself?
- Meredith's said to have tired of her.

Think of it... those two women
struggling on the cliff.

I wonder if Mary's death
could have been murder.

It's been hinted at.

The whole story was dug up and
embroidered when Stella's father died.

- When was that?
- Three years ago, abroad.

- He never came back to Windward.
- All of them dead with their secrets.

One of them's not quite
dead enough for me.

Don't say that about the poor soul.

If a spirit comes back, it's
for some particular purpose.

- That's my sister's special crotchet.
- We've got to find out what it is.

I wish I knew some more,
but I'm afraid I don't.

- What time's your wailing lady due?
- About dawn.

We ought to know each other
pretty well by then.

Twenty-one hand. I'm out.

- Is it my deal?
- It was, two hours ago.

5:30.

Yes, Moaning Martha seems
to have missed her cue.

Rick, have you brought
some more flowers in?

No. Why?

Don't you notice the scent?
It's overpowering.

Extraordinary.

Heliotrope, isn't it?

No.

No, it's mimosa.

- There's a light!
- Where did that come from?

It's like a night-light.

She's gone!

Rick, the window!

- What is it?
- Where are you, Stella?

Don't be afraid, Stella.

- "Afraid"?
- Well, we were, a little.

I wanted to see the dawn with her.

"Her"?

Don't you know who
it is in your house?

- It's my mother.
- You saw her?

I didn't see her...

but when I woke, she
was here in the room.

It was full of her scent. I could
feel her presence everywhere.

And there was something else...

something I've never
known in my whole life.

What?

The knowledge that... someone
loved me very dearly.

Come on, young Stella.
I'll take you home.

But I don't want to go.

Sorry, but I've got to get
some sleep, you know.

- But I can come back?
- No.

What do you mean? You couldn't
want to keep me away from her.

Stella, remember how ill
you were last night?

But that was nothing
to do with her.

I think I was just frightened
after what Lizzie said.

I tell you, my mother
would never hurt me.

I shan't be afraid again. Please.

I'm sorry. It's just that
my knees are wobbly.

Come along. Dr. Scott
will drive you home.

I wonder what I've done to
her, bringing her here.

Don't blame yourself.

But that look in her eyes,
that terrible happiness.

Wait a minute. Perhaps she's
nearer right than we are.

- She's what?
- Perhaps she's right in being happy.

Supposing Mary Meredith's spirit
had been searching for Stella...

and now that it's found
her, it's found peace.

Suppose we haven't a ghost anymore.

- Where are you going?
- To the studio.

How has it always shown
itself in the past?

Sobbing sounds downstairs, and
cold and depression in the studio.

There wasn't any sobbing tonight,
only warmth and fragrance.

- But why the studio?
- I'll know in there.

I'll know whether it's a decent,
human room. Won't you?

It may not be quite
so cold, really.

Oh, stop it, Pam.
It's clammy and rotten.

Whatever it is, it's
in here with us.

Let's get out.

Mary Meredith, please.

Please. We're sorry
you had to suffer.

Isn't that enough?
What more do you want?

You were right about
one thing, Pam:

We haven't a ghost anymore.
We've got two of them.

- Is Commander Beech at home?
- He won't be back until this evening, sir.

- It's Miss Stella I really want to see.
- Won't you come in? I'll tell her.

Thank you.

Miss Stella's in her
room, sir. I'll...

- Rick.
- Stella.

- I knew you couldn't mean it.
- Mean what?

Haven't you come to
take me to Windward?

No, Stella.

You mustn't go there again, ever.

Listen, darling...

I've thought this thing out, and
you must go away from here.

- Go away?
- Yes, forever.

You wouldn't care?

Not in the least, because
I'll be coming with you.

It won't be luxury, just the smallest
London flat, but it'll be ours.

And no unseen, uninvited guests.

- And Windward?
- We'll tear it down and forget it.

And my mother?

But Stella, you're talking
of a dream and a memory.

I'm talking about my mother.
She's been waiting for me.

In some queer sort of
way, I always knew it.

What about me? I was under the
impression you cared for me.

This hasn't anything
to do with you.

You talk about destroying that house.
You'd be tearing me apart.

Stop it, Stella. Do you
care for me or don't you?

I can't think about you,
not while she's out there.

Take me there.

But this is horrible, unhealthy
stuff. Put it out of your mind.

Turn your back on the
past and run, run hard.

I'll go there somehow.

- You won't, I promise you.
- I hate you for that.

Stella.

You shan't make me
forget her! You shan't!

That's enough, Bobby.
That's enough.

You'll get lipstick poisoning.

He's got a passion for
hard-boiled eggs. Did you know?

And turnip tops.

I don't think he has any
idea he's a dog. Not really.

Of course, he thinks he has a
rather odd figure for a man.

I didn't question him very
closely about where he belonged.

I was afraid I might find out.
I'm sorry now.

- Sorry?
- Yes. I should've met you sooner.

- Are you there, Scott?
- In here.

- Did you see Stella?
- Yes, I did.

You've got to do something.
She's on the edge of a collapse.

You're telling me? This is hardly a
case for a country doctor, you know.

- When does the commander get back?
- Last train tonight.

- Heaven help young Stella then.
- Look here.

Can't you convince her her mother
wouldn't want her to go near that house?

Not I. She's been listening for a
voice that's been still for 17 years.

I can give her a sedative.

Why don't we try to get a
message from Mary Meredith?

- Do what?
- We could hold a séance.

You're not serious?

That's how the dead are supposed
to communicate with the living.

- According to the idiot fringe.
- You have no right to say that.

Many intelligent people
believe in spiritualism.

- Have you ever been to a séance?
- I have.

Shaded lights, the alphabet laid out on
the table, an upside-down wine glass...

messages from somebody's Uncle Oswald,
how to find a mislaid toothbrush. Oh!

Stop scoffing, Rick.
Not all séances are faked.

All right, we'll have a séance.

It shouldn't be difficult to move a glass
around and say it's Mary Meredith.

- What do you think?
- Leave me out of this.

I won't let you cheat Stella.

What do you expect Mary
Meredith to tell her?

"Entrust your life to a tall, dark
man, excruciatingly handsome"?

Crikey, no! I want to set Stella's mind
at rest. She's just about torn in two.

Unless the conflict
inside her is stopped...

- it may even affect her reason.
- Here's a message that might do it:

"Stella, this is your mother. Since
I've found you, I've found peace.

Stay away from Windward House."

- Stella would have to be at the séance.
- Naturally.

It'll have to be at Windward,
and it's dangerous for her.

- We'd be with her all the time.
- All right. It may be worth a try.

The important thing is that
we should all believe.

- Isn't it, Dr. Scott?
- So I understand. What now?

Everybody puts a
finger on the glass.

Perhaps you should ask
some questions, Stella.

Is anybody here?

Are you my mother?

You don't want me to stay away
from Windward, do you, Mother?

Oh, I knew it, Mother.
And I want to be near you too.

Is that why you stay here,
just to be near me?

But you're holding it, Rick.
And you, Dr. Scott. Holding it hard.

Take your fingers off.

Is that your reason, darling?
Just to be near me?

But what else?

I...

G...

U... A...

"I guard."

You mean, you guard
me from some danger?

But what?

C...

A...

R...

- M...
- "Carmel."

- That's enough.
- It is indeed.

Let's go into the other room.

- Stella, what is it?
- Are you ill, Stella?

Quiet. Leave her alone.

Oigan. ¡Oigan!

- Stop her, Scott!
- She's in a trance.

I saw this happen once before at a
séance. I thought it was a fake.

- But this isn't.
- I know. It's dangerous.

- May I ask her some questions?
- No!

It may be best to try
and reach her mind.

Now keep your voice
quiet and reassuring.

Are you Mary Meredith,
Stella's mother?

Ella no e'. Ella no e'!

¡No le crean na'!

¡No le pongan oido
que está mintiendo!

Don't ask her any more!

That's the doorbell.

Shall I answer it?
Lizzie's at the Jessups'.

No. Don't move until she's
over the worst of this.

¡So' ladrona!
!Ladrona de mi cariño!

- Spanish, isn't it, Scott?
- I don't know.

Rick, the mimosa scent!

The room's full of it!

Mary Meredith's in here too.

The cold.

It's never been cold in here.

The candles! Look at the candles!

- I'd better answer it.
- All right.

Stop, Pamela!

Don't go near that door.

It's coming toward us!

What in thunder is this?

- Stella dear, it's all right now.
- We must get her out.

What have you been
doing to the child?

- What's the meaning of this, Dr. Scott?
- I can't explain now.

- This is incredible behavior!
- Quietly, Stella.

- There's nothing to be frightened of.
- Control yourself, child!

Don't speak to her like that!

You're responsible for this.
You and your meddling.

And so are you. Why didn't
you tell us the truth?

- I warned you.
- Only of idle gossip.

Perhaps you'd like your money back. You
shall have it, the entire purchase price.

No, thank you, Commander.
I know this now:

Stella will never be well
until this house is cured.

Somehow we're going to cure it.

Dr. Scott, have the
goodness to drive us home.

There. Now you'll sleep all right.

I'll be here early in the morning.

Stella is no longer
your patient. Nor am I.

- But someone must look after her.
- That is not your concern, Dr. Scott.

- I shall be at your disposal at any hour.
- Thank you.

Everything will be all right.

Won't you come in, Miss Holloway?

- Is she asleep?
- Not yet.

Hello, Stella.

Miss Holloway.

Go to sleep, Stella.

Dr. Scott tells me she went
into a trance tonight.

Spoke some words they
thought were Spanish.

How did she happen
to be at Windward?

The people who bought the place
are searching into its past.

- Are they indeed?
- Can you make the child well again?

I hope so.

It won't be a short process.
She's far more ill than you imagine.

She won't want to go with you.
She's never outgrown her fear of you.

I could've cured it years ago
if you'd let me have her...

as Mary would have wished me to.

Her place was in Mary's home. I've
taught her to be like Mary in every way.

- How can you say such a thing?
- She's not so beautiful, of course.

Mary was a goddess.

Her skin was radiant,
and that bright, bright hair.

How this room brings
her back to me.

The nights we sat talking in
front of that fireplace...

planning our whole lives.

It wasn't flirtations and
dresses we talked about.

We were no silly, giggling girls.

- We intended to conquer life.
- You at least did.

Will you try to take
Mary's place with her now?

I'll do my best.

She's asleep.

If you'll call my chauffeur,
he'll carry her downstairs.

It will be better for her
to wake at my place.

I'm deeply grateful to you.

So they're searching into the past.

They shan't ever find
out, my darling.

I promise you.

- Elizabeth Flynn, where are yez?
- I'm here, Mr. Roderick.

And will you please
come here at once?

Don't we get any breakfast?
What's the matter?

Oh, that. That happened last night.

I am not talking about that.

- I'm talking about this.
- The anagram letters. Yes, yes.

Anagrams, is it?

Don't you try to bluff
me, Mr. Roderick.

'Tis a heathen device to
call devils out of hell.

Stop looking at me as though you
were gonna take away my bicycle.

I will not stay in a house where it
goes on, and that is an "ultimato"!

Come now, Lizzie. From now on
we're through with all this rubbish.

- We're going after facts.
- What facts?

The facts about this
blasted haunting.

Rick, why burden Lizzie with this?

Whist now, Miss Pam.
Where will we start, Mr. Rick?

I don't know. Everybody
seems to be dead.

- The trained nurse isn't.
- What trained nurse?

She was here when it happened... the friend
of the lady that went over the cliff.

Where did you hear all this?

What do you suppose we
talk of at the Jessups?

It was the trained nurse that shouted
down to Mr. Jessup on the shore.

- Was Jessup in on the tragedy?
- He was after some lost sheep.

The tide was out, so he went down.

And as he passed under the
dead tree, he heard a scream.

- Mrs. Meredith?
- No.

'Twas the scream of
a terrified child.

As he ran towards it, the
poor lady came crashing down.

- 'Twas then that the nurse called.
- Lizzie Flynn, you're a gold mine.

- If we could only get the name of the nurse.
- Ah, that's easy. Wait, now.

- Mr. Jessup?
- Yes, Mrs. Flynn.

What was the name of
Mrs. Meredith's trained nurse...

the one that got so
famous and grand?

- Miss Holloway.
- Aye. Miss Holloway.

She has a big, fine place of
her own now. A hospital, like.

'Tis on Bodmin Moor. She calls
it the Mary Meredith Retreat.

- Mr. and Miss Fitzgerald?
- Yes.

- Won't you come in?
- Thank you.

Wait in there, please, and I will
announce you to Miss Holloway.

The place is quite
stunning, isn't it?

- Why are you whispering?
- Why are you?

A gentleman!

- How very unusual.
- Good afternoon.

Oh, dear me. Yes. Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

Are you by any chance waiting
to see Miss Holloway?

Yes, we have an appointment.

What lucky people!

And what luck for me too, because
I'm sure you won't mind.

- But perhaps you will.
- Is there something we can do?

Oh, if you'd be so
very kind. You see...

this isn't my day for an interview
and I want her to have these.

What are they, bird's eggs?

But that's very funny, because,
you see, I'm Miss Bird.

They're just little stones...

because she likes simple things
and she has so many flowers.

- There isn't much else one can find.
- Well, I'll give them to her.

Thank you.

And now, I... think I'll just
go out for a little walk.

Go back to your work
at once, Miss Bird.

Don't forget.

Will you come this way, please?

- Shall I take them?
- No, I'll deliver them.

As you wish.

Come in.

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

This is so kind of you.

I was asked to give you these
by a Miss Bird, I believe.

Poor Miss Bird. Our saddest case.

They're really very fine
stones, aren't they?

I must remember to
thank her for them.

She comes to me once a
week for a little chat.

- Won't you sit down?
- Thank you.

Forgive our ignorance. We know
so very little of your work.

Is it with mental patients?

Not patients, Miss Fitzgerald.
Just guests.

In a way this is like a hotel...

where there are beautiful things
to look at, music to hear...

and a little sympathy.

But don't let's talk about me.

You told me on the telephone
about disturbances at Windward.

How can I help you?

We thought perhaps you could tell us
what Mary and Carmel were really like.

They were extraordinary
women, both of them.

Mary Meredith was the finest
human being I ever knew.

- Is that she?
- Yes.

- And Carmel?
- Oh, she was exceptional too.

I never saw such intensity of evil.

She was a Spanish gypsy.
Crafty, cruel.

- I'm sorry.
- Why did Mrs. Meredith put up with it?

She thought Meredith should
be the one to end the affair.

- And did he?
- Yes, in time.

She and Meredith
took the girl to Paris...

found a position for her, left
her well supplied with money.

Then they came back
here with their baby.

For a time it seemed as if there
were some possibility of happiness.

- And then?
- Carmel came back.

She still wanted Mary's husband.
You know how it ended.

A neighbor of ours spoke of something
we can't quite understand.

He mentions a child crying
on the cliff that night.

A terrified child.

That's a part of the story so ugly,
I've never mentioned it before.

We're sorry to distress you.

That night, the girl Carmel had
been told she must leave Windward.

If she could've killed both Mary and
her husband, she'd have done so.

A better plan flashed into
her wicked little brain.

She went into the nursery, picked up
their baby, and raced to the cliff.

- Good heavens!
- Mary was after her in a second...

Meredith and I close behind. Carmel
reached the cliff by the dead tree.

For a moment I saw
them struggling...

then Carmel raised her arm
and struck Mary down.

Then it was murder?

The will to kill had always
been there, I think.

Directed against Stella.
Can that be what survives?

Maybe that accounts for Stella's
queer business on the cliff.

- What was that?
- Something in that house...

drove her out toward the edge, and if
I hadn't caught her, she'd have gone over.

Would she indeed?

How very curious.

Please, finish your story.

It was finished.

Everything was finished.

Meredith went down the cliff.

Mary was dead when he reached her.

- And Carmel?
- She ran out into the storm.

Next morning, she crawled back
in the early stages of pneumonia.

I fought for Carmel's
life day and night...

hating her all the time!

How awful for you.

I'm sorry, I discipline others.
I... I can't discipline myself.

There. Have I told you
everything you want to know?

All except one thing.

That last night, who
told Carmel she must go?

Why, Mary... I should say Meredith.

It's the one decent thing
I ever knew him to do.

This... This is all extremely...

I'm sorry.

May I offer you tea?

Thank you, but we must get
back before our maid leaves.

She won't stay at
Windward after dark.

I'm afraid I haven't been
much help with your problem.

Well, thank you
anyway, and good-bye.

- Good-bye.
- Good-bye.

Good afternoon, my dear.

- Did you want to see me?
- I've been asking for you all day.

I'm being treated as
though I were insane.

Has anyone used that word?

- I've told them a thousand times...
- It isn't a question of a word.

My door's kept locked, and there's
a queer look in their eyes.

- Oh, you feel persecuted.
- No.

About the cliff at
Windward, Stella...

what did you feel as
you ran toward it?

I didn't feel anything.

I was sad in the house.

Was it as though some will
were directing you...

- a will stronger than yours?
- The sea sounded loud and beautiful.

- I just went in that direction.
- In fact, you don't quite know.

- I want to see my grandfather.
- You will in time.

Does Grandfather know
what this place is like?

That woman who laughs...

I hear laughing all night!
And that other woman that...

Your grandfather's sorry
that you have to be here...

but he knows you'll be better soon.

"Better"? But I'm
perfectly all right!

I wouldn't say that, Stella dear.

And please don't keep
asking to see me.

Why do you hate me, Miss Holloway?

You see? You do feel persecuted.

Rick, if I should ever
happen to lose my mind...

I don't think you'll lose it.
It might rattle to one side.

But if I do, no Mary
Meredith Retreat for me.

Plain, old-fashioned lunatic
asylum, not that creepy horror.

You'll have a lovely talk with
Miss Holloway once a week.

- You think she was lying to us?
- About the past? Why should she?

She wasn't gonna tell us about the baby,
and later she made that one break.

Admitting it was Mary
who told Carmel to go.

Why try to hide it? It was
a normal human reaction.

Made me like Mary better,
as a matter of fact.

I was getting awfully bored
with her perfection.

Why should Miss Holloway want to
turn her into a plaster saint?

Maybe she likes plaster saints.
She's one herself.

Thank you, Doctor.

I assure you that when that healthy young
man laughs, he isn't being delirious.

Good-bye, Doctor.

- Hello. Come in.
- Hello.

- What news of Stella?
- None, and I won't be having any.

Her grandfather's kicked me out.
Where have you been all day?

- To Bodmin Moor and back.
- Seeing a Miss Holloway.

What, Holy Holloway of
"wealth through harmony"?

- What do you know about her?
- Nothing, except that...

Dr. Rudd, my predecessor, had some
sort of prejudice against her.

She says Carmel
killed Mary Meredith.

Yes, she was there.
Nursed Carmel afterwards.

- Could we talk to Dr. Rudd about her?
- Only if we have another séance.

- I wonder...
- What?

It's only the very faintest chance,
of course, but come on upstairs.

190s to '11, '12 to
'15, '16 to '19.

Here we are.

- It happened in the winter.
- Yes, let's start with November.

From his handwriting, Dr. Rudd
must have been 200 years old.

Measles, measles, measles, whooping
cough, measles, appendicitis...

Pleasant change for the old boy.

Here we are. "Called
to Windward House.

Meredith's model, Carmel
Quesada: double pneumonia."

"Quesada girl much worse. No
attempt to warm the bedroom.

- Found traces of snow on the floor."
- Snow? Then the window was left open.

"Spoke severely to nurse.

Returned to Windward this
evening. Patient dead.

Nurse Holloway threatened
me with legal action...

when I used the words
'criminal negligence."

- But that means...
- To a doctor of Rudd's generation...

it was apt to mean murder.

- Miss Holloway murdered Carmel.
- Doctor.

- In a quiet, ladylike way.
- Doctor!

Yes, Edith?

The commander's maid's on the
phone. You're to come at once.

- Is it Miss Meredith?
- It's the commander.

- Took awful bad, the maid says.
- All right, Edith. You take this home.

There may be some other details.
I'll be along later.

He's in here, Doctor.

I undid his shoes. It was
all I knew how to do.

- Bad one this time, Scott.
- Yes, I know.

Hold that under his nose.

Want an apology, Scott?

You'd get it, if you
stuck out for it.

No, thanks. I'll have
you right in a jiffy.

- Who's there?
- Who do you suppose is there?

Hello, Lizzie.

I'm sitting in your mother's chair,
and if any ghost comes along...

I'll let out a scream that will
frighten the life out of it.

Why? What's happened?

I feel all the wickedness of
this house gathering around.

- Come on, now. Hop off to the Jessups'.
- I'm not going.

I'll be found dead in me
bed in the morning...

stiff with fright, and
me death will be on you.

Me?

How do I know what devilment you'll
be up to when me back is turned?

I promise we'll do nothing tonight
that the priest wouldn't approve of.

Lord bless you, Mr. Rick.
I was hoping you'd say that.

I'll go and get me hat and coat.

- Find anything new?
- Nothing after that entry.

- How about a whiskey and soda?
- Less soda than usual, thanks.

Awful if we took to
drink, both of us.

But it's an ideal house
for delirium tremens.

Before you take a sip...
don't you smell mimosa?

Yes. Are you scared?

Well, I wish I'd wake up.

It came from the
nursery last night.

- You have the great nose of the family.
- Not a trace of it now.

- It's strongest here.
- It's almost overpowering.

I wish you'd tell us what
you want, Mary Meredith.

- Mr. Rick?
- Yes?

I forgot to ask: Did you
find out anything today?

- Just turned up a couple of murders.
- Holy saints preserve us!

Answer the door.
It's probably Dr. Scott.

- Good evening, Dr. Scott.
- Evening, Lizzie.

- In here.
- Good night, Miss Pam.

- Good night.
- Good night.

- I'm glad to find you here.
- How's the commander?

It's not him I'm worried
about. It's Stella.

- What's the matter with her?
- She's at Miss Holloway's.

- No!
- We've got to get her out, tonight.

That's the way I feel, but
don't let's get hysterical.

After all, Miss Holloway was
her mother's best friend.

The idea of her spending an
hour in that place is horrible.

- Can you get the old boy's permission?
- He's too ill. We've no authority.

- Then we'll do it without.
- Shall we take the casebook?

- Might be able to frighten her with it.
- Yes. No, wait.

We'll describe what we found
and then pile it on, huh?

Let's get to a telephone.

Yes?

Oh, it's no bother at all, Miss Fitzgerald.
I'll be glad to see you again.

Are you motoring?

In two hours.

Good-bye.

Bring in Miss Meredith.

I may need the car this evening.

Good evening, my dear. Come in.

Sit down.

I thought you'd feel
more at home here.

I do, Miss Holloway.

I've been giving your problem
the most serious consideration.

It's not much of a problem.
I just want to go home.

To your grandfather's?

I couldn't permit that.
You've never been very happy there.

- Where would you really like to be?
- You mean Windward?

That's the basis of all your
trouble, being kept away from there.

- Do you think she wants you there?
- Yes, I think she does.

And what she wants, I want.

I've talked with the Fitzgeralds.
They're very fond of you.

They'll let me stay
there with them?

For the present, your grandfather's
not to know you've left here.

It would worry him.

You must go straight to Windward.

Is that clear?

Miss Holloway, I'm the
happiest person in the world!

There's a train in 40 minutes.

My car will take you
to the station.

Good evening. Won't you come in?

- I must announce you!
- Don't bother. We'll announce ourselves.

Good evening. So you've
thought of more questions?

- Why didn't you tell us Stella was here?
- The presence of my guests is confidential.

- We've come to take her.
- This is Stella's doctor.

Oh, I begin to understand.
This is a rescue party.

Take me to Stella at once.

There was a time when I would have
resented such impertinence...

particularly from a doctor whose
conduct leaves so much to be desired.

- Please stop beating about the bush.
- I couldn't be angry with anyone tonight.

You know, those moments when
the light is very clear...

when the scales at last
swing into perfect balance.

- Where is Stella?
- Tell them, Miss Ellis.

She's on the train for
Biddlecombe. The 9:20.

On her way home.

- Is that true?
- She'll be there long before you.

- What happened?
- Nothing.

She wasn't very happy here. I can't be
of any help to people who are unhappy.

- She went to her grandfather's?
- No.

- Not to Windward House?
- Better than that.

To the cliff, and the
rocks below the cliff.

You let her?

That's were Mary went.
That's where she died.

She's out of her mind. Come on!
Stella has a 20-minute start!

The sea has such a lonely sauna.

- Every seventh wave...
- You'd better look after her.

Miss Holloway! What's the matter?

Get out of this room!

I've done what she wanted at last.

Haven't I, Mary?

It's all straight now.

There are no frayed edges.
No loose ends.

All straight.

All smooth.

These local trains are very slow, you know.
But this one had a head start.

You needn't worry. She
can't get into the house.

- You did lock the door, didn't you, Pam?
- No, I thought you did.

- Will you be all right, miss?
- Oh, yes.

I'll be all right now.
I'll be with my friends.

Pamela? Rick?

Pamela, are you there?

Rick?

Where are you? Please.

Lizzie?

Is that you?

Stella.

Stella.

Grandfather! Grandfather!

Stella, my child.

What's the matter?
What are you doing here?

Someone telephoned...
from Miss Holloway's.

And you walked all that way?

Well, I had to get here.

Don't try and talk, darling.
I'll get Dr. Scott.

Oh, dear. There's no
telephone in this house.

- Go. Go!
- You can't be left alone.

But the danger is for you.

- Please get out of this house now.
- Now lie back quietly.

I'm not afraid of anything here.

Then be afraid. Be afraid,
for heaven's sake.

When you were a little child...
after her death...

the evils of this house
reached out for you.

I took you away then.

- If I could only take you now.
- It's all right. We're together.

Stella! Go!

- Go...
- Grandfather!

I won't be afraid, Mother.

Stella!

Stella!

Stella, stop!

Hold on, darling.

We've got you now,
darling. Hang on.

- Are you all right?
- Yes.

Sure?

Dr. Scott, Grandfather's in
the studio. He's terribly ill.

We'd better get to him at once.

There's nothing I can do, my dear.

I knew.

She killed him just as
she tried to kill me.

- My own mother!
- No, Stella.

But I tell you, I saw my mother
just as my father painted her.

- It must have been Carmel.
- It wasn't.

Steady, Stella.

Unless...

Unless perhaps Miss
Holloway was right.

Perhaps it's my mind.

- Oh, Rick!
- No, darling.

The mimosa scent...
it's flooding the room.

It's all right, darling.
Nothing will hurt you.

But I'm not frightened. This is what
I felt in the nursery that night.

The book!

What's doing it?

- The wind.
- But what about the mimosa?

We're letting our imaginations
play hob with our senses.

"11:15 a.m. Mary Ann Hardy.
Broken arm. Second this year."

It's imagination, all right.

- Oh, what did I expect?
- Wait a minute.

"3:20 p.m. Called to
Windward House...

to attend Meredith's
model, who had fainted.

It didn't take much skill
to find the reason.

Girl in poor physical condition...

but I'm sure her great happiness
will carry her through."

- Then Carmel had a baby too!
- "5:10 p.m. Mrs. Meredith came to see me.

Expected tears, hysteria.
Instead, icy control...

and a dominating desire that the
girl's condition be kept secret.

I should have more sympathy with the lady
if I did not know how she herself...

has feared and refused motherhood."

What can it all mean?

- Where were you born, Stella?
- In Paris.

Where they took Carmel before
they came back with their baby.

- But surely you don't think...
- I think Mary adopted Carmel's child...

gave her a home on the condition
that Carmel never came back.

Only she couldn't live up to it.
She had to be near her baby.

But it doesn't fit.
The mimosa scent...

that comes with the gentle
ghost, that was Mary's scent.

- Stella's father told her.
- No.

No, my father only wrote that
it was my mother's scent.

- I'm Carmel's child!
- Oh, Stella, don't mind too much.

"Mind"? Can't you see
what it's done for me?

Always there's been
something fighting in me...

something that couldn't be
calm and cold like Mary.

I can be myself now.

That's what she's waited all
these years to tell you.

Oh, Mother, now I know.

She's happy now.

- The scent's gone.
- She won't cry anymore.

She's gone forever.

Will you come back to
my house now, Stella?

- Come along, darling.
- All right.

- Get her out through the nursery, quick!
- Right.

- What is it, the cold?
- Go on, Pam!

- What are you going to do?
- Help Stella, please.

Mary Meredith, where are you?

It's time somebody faced
that icy rage of yours.

What do you want?

It's Stella, isn't it?

It's too late, Mary. You see,
we're on to you now.

You told Carmel to clear out and leave her
baby, but Meredith wouldn't stand for it.

To spite them,

you tried to kill their child and instead
went hurtling over the cliff yourself.

Gives your saintly legend
a black eye, doesn't it?

So you don't like the sound
of laughter, do you?

But that's all you'll
get from now on.

I should think you'll be on
your way now, Mary Meredith.

We've had enough. We're not
frightened of you anymore.

From now on, this house
is for the living.

Rick, are you all right?

Let' me in, Rick!

- Oh, Rick!
- You all right, Fitzgerald?

Yes, fine. She's gone, Stella.

Look!

He'd never go near
those stairs before.

Bobby'll be back tomorrow.

I think we'll be having
other plans for Bobby.

- You're still shaking, Rick.
- Well, I've had a narrow escape.

She might have been
my mother-in-law!