All language subtitles for The.Uninvited.1944.Criterion.Bluray.1080p.LPCM.DD-1.0.x264-Grym.eng

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 moiré
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.

What 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 it's 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 gel' 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?

Hmm. 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 starting.

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.

Hmm. 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?
- Mm-hmm.

- 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?

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 started
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 have left him?

No, never.

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

He was younger then.

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.

♪ Are like an evening gone ♪

♪ Short as the watch ♪

♪ That ends the night ♪

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 nightlight.

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?
- Mm-hmm.

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.
- ♪ La ♪

♪ Wee chickabirdie, tra la la
laid an egg on the vundysull ♪

♪ The vundysull began to crack
Wee chickabirdie, la, la, la ♪

♪ Wee chickabirdie — ♪

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.

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 the 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.
- Mm-hmm.

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
and 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 heart 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.

I will say this: 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 oído
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 “ultimate”!

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?

Whisht 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 this 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.

Miss Holloway, 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 —
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.

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.

1908 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.
- Goodnight, 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?

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.

I must ask you to 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 sound.

- 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!