Original subtitles

curtain call.

Considering the hour, my good man, we might be a little less, uh, glamorous.

Oh, I'm terribly sorry, your lordship. I shall try to do better next time.

Thank you.

Mr. Doyle, the manner in which you drove through those mountain roads exposes

your true calling.

You're a mass murderer.

Don't give me no ideas, fatso.

Where'd you get your experience, Doyle?

In the war, I drove a two -star general all the way from the landing beach to

Casino. And if you've ever been in Italy... Yes, I made a couple pictures

Rome last year.

If they serve boiled coffee in this town, I shall leave it instantly. Thank

love.

And I shall walk to Los Angeles before I'll ever ride with you again.

What do you think?

That's what the general always said.

By the way, whatever happened to the general?

Got killed.

An accident.

Are you just looking, or can I help you?

I want... May I talk to you for a few minutes, Miss Carver?

Oh, really, love?

It's terribly late. I've had a ghastly bus ride, and I'm pooped. Now, can't it

wait till the morning? No, no, it can't. I've got to talk to you right now.

Really, young man, if you expect me to give you an interview at this hour of

night... No, no.

My name is Douglas McKenzie.

So you're an aspiring young actor, and you want me to tell you how to break

the theater.

Oh.

Well, in words, a pure Anglo -Saxon... No, wait.

I'm not an actor, but I thought I was an orphan.

There's no excuse for bad manners.

Now run along, little boy.

Good night.

Good night.

Miss Carver, I wouldn't say this to anyone else.

But I think you might want to talk to me. For heaven's sake, why?

Because... Because you're my mother?

of temporal power.

The attribute to all majesty wherein doth sit the dread and fear of two.

Who's your new assistant working now?

Oh, him.

Well, I still have to do most of the work, but say, who is he anyway?

How come you got Fawcett to put him on?

To save your beautiful muscles, dear love.

Why else?

But mercy is above the sceptre's sway.

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings.

It is an attribute to God himself.

Ramona Carter is absolutely wonderful. You never told me you knew her.

A secret passion.

Does she know it? I think she guessed. She sent the tickets by special

messenger.

I'm not decent.

I'm sure she doesn't expect you to bring your secretary backstage with you.

A royal summons for Ramona means only one thing. She's in trouble again.

I'm still not decent. Come on in.

You're here.

Did you think I wouldn't be?

You're not showing much enthusiasm.

Ramona, you're the finest actress in the world and just as beautiful as ever.

Oh, you old flatterer.

And you, my dear, you must be Della Street. Yes.

Perry, dear, find a receipt, will you?

I, um, hope you're not going to be too shocked because I'm going to

make a terrible concession.

In.

Strict as confidence, you understand.

Are you quite ready?

I think so.

Twenty -three years ago, I gave birth to a child.

Well, didn't you hear me?

I have a son.

Yes, I know.

How could you possibly know?

I've never told another living soul.

Ramona. For the past five years, I've investigated for you the parentage of

three different young men. Ah, but I never told you why.

Let's say I drew a conclusion.

That was an unforgivable thing to do.

Douglas?

Douglas?

Well, you do want some coffee, don't you?

Oh, Douglas, would it be too much trouble to get us three coffees?

Right away, Miss Carver. Thank you.

Nice meeting you, young man.

He's our new handyman.

I feel sorry for him, so I... Got him the job.

He came up to me one night in Flagstaff, Arizona.

I have reason to believe, he said, that you're my mother. What reason did he

give? Very convincing ones.

Time, place, type of blood.

Oh, all incredibly accurate.

There's just one difficulty, Perry.

The boy is a fake.

Well, how can you be certain that because, my dear, I happen to know

and where my real son is at this very moment? Then why do you keep this

boy around?

Because, my dear, I want to know just how much it's going to cost me.

But you may be sure he's just waiting to ask for something really big.

Isn't it possible, Miss Carver, that the boy is just making an honest mistake?

No, my dear, it is not.

When you go digging up old secrets and make all the facts fit exactly, you're

either awfully, awfully lucky or a great deal more dishonest. Have you asked him

where he found his facts?

That's why I sent for you, Perry. That's what I want you to find out.

Because I think that somebody must have put that boy up to whatever it is he's

up to. Who could be that cruel?

Don, I forgot to tell Paul Drake where to meet us. If you could reach him.

I'll call right away.

Perry, I just don't know who.

That's the trouble.

I've kept it such a secret all these years.

Well, certainly the boy's father. Douglas could not have gotten it from

You can take my word for that.

Who is he, Ramona?

Blasted Perry, I am not going to tell you.

Oh!

Don't you get the idea there's anything apologetic about my memories?

He was from Boston, I'll have you know.

One of the bluest of the blue -blooded families.

Aristocratic youth, struggling young Angelou. And my young prince made plans

me to ascend Beacon Hill to meet the family.

And then an ogre intervened. And they found out ahead of time, in a nasty,

way, full of lies that...

They rushed my young prince off to Europe and I never saw him again.

All right.

But there must have been someone else who... No, there wasn't. That's the

point.

The only person who really knew, who whisked me off to Jersey, who held my

in the hospital when there were complications about a blood factor or

who arranged for the baby's adoption and all, he wouldn't even expose me to St.

Peter himself.

You mentioned an ogre a minute ago.

No, him.

A Broadway critic.

A lecherous old liar. But him I fixed a few years ago.

And he disappeared in a cloud of his own smoke. Poof. Do me up, will you?

So? Now the ogre's gone.

And anyway, I doubt if he had enough facts to... Jack, I will not have you

storming in this dressing room without warning.

But it's my favorite vice, and I must say, my love, this is the least

compromising situation I've ever discovered you in.

Now go to Mr.

Mason John Sylvester Fawcett.

Delighted. Last call, Ramona. On to Santa Barbara. The wagon rolls in 20

minutes.

Perry Mason.

Extraordinary.

Sorry I took so long, Miss Carver.

That's all right, Douglas.

I think Mr. Mason would like to talk to you.

Yes, sir.

Douglas, why do you believe you're Miss Carver's son?

Because Sam told me I was.

My foster father, Sam McKenzie.

There was never any secret about my being adopted.

But, well, he never let on that he knew who my real parents were.

Until he got sick.

Then I guess he figured he'd better tell me.

before he died.

He died recently?

No, sir.

March of last year.

Why did you wait for more than a year to approach Miss Carver?

I didn't. I almost did it last summer.

When you were in Chicago, I was working there, and I waited outside your hotel.

She came out looking like a queen.

I got so rattled, I couldn't say anything except, may I have your

Miss Carver?

I've still got it.

I don't remember.

People are always asking for autographs.

I must say, you didn't seem very intimidated in that coffee shop in

I was so scared my knees were rattling.

If you hadn't looked quite so tired and not so overpowering, I think I would

have chickened out again.

It's too bad you didn't, Douglas.

Because the truth is that you're not my son.

What? I don't understand. What do you want to say anything like that for?

Pick up your kid, Miss Carver?

Oh, you got it, Mac. No, he has not got it.

Douglas is leaving the tour tonight.

Well, I knew it was too good to last.

Just one moment, please.

Douglas, I think you've been misguided.

I prefer to believe that it was neither deliberate nor malicious, so I've made

you out a check.

Mr. Mason may have some papers for you to sign. I'll let him handle that.

Here.

Goodbye, Douglas.

And good luck.

$5 ,000.

That's a lot more than I expected.

But then I don't know how badly your conscience is bothering you.

Let us have no hard feelings, please. Let us have no feelings at all, Mother.

And no papers to sign, eh, Mr. Mason?

Thanks very much.

But I've already got your autograph, remember?

Perry, did I do it so badly?

I wish you had let me handle it, Ramona.

Come on, Ramona.

Royalist, I need to leave without you.

Sorry, Perry, I... Send me a bill, will you?

I don't know what to say.

Excuse me.

Well, it seems the drama wasn't all on stage tonight.

Paul, right?

Yes, just in time to see the young man storm out of here. I told Paul to follow

him. That was all right, wasn't it? Or is it all over?

I hope it's over, Della.

But I certainly wouldn't bet $5 ,000 on it.

$5 ,000.

Gary 2000.

Will you kindly cease making that meaningless noise?

If I have added incorrectly, simply say so.

Oh, you don't add at all, Jack.

You just pick a number.

Well, if I were a mathematician, my boy, the bloodhounds of the tax bureau

wouldn't be baying at the door.

Well, the subject seems to be high finance.

Purely academic, old man.

Rather like my percentage.

What was your decision on that?

All decisions are made by Mr. Simon Watley.

You were the nominal producer of the band of trolling players.

We're responsible to bring it to his attention.

From now on, I'll handle it myself.

His address, please.

Uh, Helfrich Dorf in... 16.

Geneva, Switzerland, according to a letter I received today. There's a

out there somewhere for you.

Please remind Mr. Guy Penrose that in rejecting a percentage in favor of a

straight salary, he implied an insufficiency of confidence for our

in its primal state.

Therefore, I feel that in all fairness to yourself, John, and to dear Ramona, I

must advise Sir Guy to abide by his contractual agreement.

Let's just figure that out.

He does have a rather old -world style, doesn't he? He's senile.

Why do you say that, Guy?

Well, there's a tidbit for you here, Scott, my boy.

I was happy to read the good notices on the new replacement.

Well? The young man's name slips my memory.

Most gratifying.

You know something? I wish he'd come over here and see a performance for

himself. He may.

When he reads the notice, we're liable to get in Santa Barbara.

Mr. Pedros, if you sabotage this company out of spite...

You are offensive, sir.

I've been a trooper for 40 years, and I shall continue to give a performance.

Of course, it won't be good enough for Mr. Ogden G.

Kramer.

Who?

Kramer. I thought he was dead.

Moribund, possibly, but still lethal.

Who is Kramer?

Among other things, he appears to be a cinema reviewer on a Santa Barbara

newspaper.

I'll kill him in cold blood.

Splendid.

It's the same Ogden Kramer, all right. Listen, this great little movie, The

Princess, demonstrates once again Hollywood's unparalleled skill in mixing

talent with bad taste.

That was a good picture.

My dear boy.

You should have been around when he was reviewing on Broadway.

For example, any schoolboy will remember that Medea was

a sorceress who killed her own children.

Ramona Carver, as Medea, was inspired casting.

What are you laughing about?

I think it's vicious.

Are the old ogres still alive?

Maybe we did know.

Kramer's apparently with a local university.

A part -time instructor in the drama department.

Oh? Heaven help them.

How absolutely divine.

Reunion in Santa Barbara?

Phone call, Mr. Mason.

Did you tell Paul we'd be here?

Yes, but I didn't expect him to have anything tonight.

Hello?

Yes, Paul. Perry, I'd like to tell you your troubles are over, but... Which

troubles? Well, Della told me that that young kid, Douglas McKenzie, was trying

to shake down Ramona Carver.

Possibly, but I don't really believe it. I know. I thought he dropped the tube.

I tailed him from the theater.

He went to his hotel, packed a bag, and grabbed a bus out of town.

And what was his destination?

That's the hitch.

Santa Barbara.

Thanks, Paul.

Operator, I'd like to send a telegram.

Santa Barbara, come out and meet your public.

Welcome to Santa Barbara, Mr. Misset.

We're here to represent the university, and if it isn't too late to get an

interview for the student paper.

It is never too late for the members of the press. May I introduce my fellow

troopers, Mr. Guy Penrose, Mr. Scott Everett, and Miss Ramona Carver.

How do you do?

What is your favorite Shakespearean play, Miss Carver?

Coming.

Good night.

Not here, Ramona.

Not in front of witnesses.

Good night, sir. Always nice to see you again, old chap.

Ramona, Ramona, please.

Augie, darling, it's been years.

How are you? Oh, dear heart.

Come along. You and I must get together and have a marvelous chat about

absolutely everything.

Yes, but Ramona, of course I can drop everything, but...

What's the $5 ,000 for?

You paying off somebody?

Now listen, don't do a thing until I get there. Do you understand?

And then...

Ramona? Ramona?

Another five minutes for that marble stone footlight.

Did you call the hotel?

Well, naturally I called.

They haven't seen her since you registered last night.

Well, did you ask for Uncle Kramer? Did you call his house?

Maybe he's got an office right here on the campus.

I trust you are aware, madam, that the curtain should have been up for him

yesterday. Well, the audience is still here. And the cast will be here to

well after midnight.

Well, it's gotten the second act. You've done it time and time before.

Comrade, the lawyer's been here twice.

Mr. Mason, he says he's got something for you. And I've got a performance,

darling. So tell him I'll change my mind, or tell him I'll have supper with

later, or... Ramona, please.

Well, what are we doing them for?

Here's the curtains.

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.

Out, out, brief candle.

Light but a walking shadow.

A poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is

heard no more.

It is a tale told by an idiot. Full of sound and fury.

Signifying.

To die, to sleep, no more.

And by sleep, to say we end.

Heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.

Oh, hi. You, uh...

You looking for somebody backstage?

I seem to have missed Ramona Carver.

The janitor said he thought everyone was gone.

He's checking for me.

Ramona Carver.

Skip it. Come on. You know where she is?

Oh, I think I saw her.

I've been waiting to pick up the professor's review for the student

Doesn't seem to be anyone at home.

Oh, here it is. He just left. Don't touch a thing.

Huh?

Mr. Kramer.

And he's dead.

I'm sorry, sir. Miss Carver isn't in her room. You might try the Rathskeller.

The police called a few moments ago and I...

You, uh, are Mr. Penrose.

What's in the name?

Well, at least a method of identification.

My name is Perry Mason. Oh, the barrister.

Ramona's, to be precise.

So I was told she might be in here.

Now listen.

Can you hear my voice?

No. Ramona has many sterling qualities, but the virtue of silence is not one of

them. Therefore, we may assume that she's not among those present.

Mr. Penrose, I'm in a hurry.

Oh, please don't take advantage of my condition. I'm drunk, sir. I am drunk.

You, um... When she promises to kill someone in cold blood,

you rather... you rather believe her. I suppose everyone has heard her say

something to that effect.

You don't think any of us would repeat that to an outsider.

We call ourselves the Company of Four for good reason.

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

That's only three. The fourth is greed, which makes liars of us all.

And I also lied when I told a policeman I didn't know where Ramona might have

gone after the performance tonight.

All right.

Where might she have gone?

She was invited for supper with Jack for seven.

Of course. Of course you'd like to find her.

Surely you don't think she's cowering in the next room.

Ramona? Is it possible she went to Ogden Cramer's office after the performance

tonight? Certainly not.

One of the students believes he saw her there.

Ramona would sooner keep company with Jack the Ripper.

Look here. The man's murder is hardly surprising, old boy. He who lives by the

poison pen shall die by the... Whatever it was, I certainly hope it wasn't

anything so prosaic as the 32.

He was struck on the head with great violence.

Ah.

Yes, and Ramona is of a violent temperament.

But your student is mistaken.

Ramona came straight here and only left me a very few minutes ago.

Excuse me.

Fawcett?

Yes, Doyle.

Good work.

Good work.

The party has been outwitted. The fair Ramona has been fitted into the

of our gilded chariot.

Shall we speed to the rescue?

You meet me at the theater in half an hour.

I'll take care of Ramona.

The money?

Oh, yes, yes, yes, the money.

Oh, Penny, darling, I do hope you've chucked it in the ocean by this time.

Why? What did you plan to do with it, Ramona?

Listed bills usually mean a trap of some kind.

And since I'd telegraphed you that young Douglas was here in Santa Barbara, you

thought that Ogden Kramer put Douglas up to this act, didn't you?

Obviously. If I bought the truth out of the creature with marked money, then I

could have had him arrested for extortion. But you changed your mind.

You didn't want the money.

Female prerogative.

Ramona, don't you believe that Scott Everett is your son?

Now, how did you find that out?

You spent most of yesterday with Kramer.

Did you learn something from him about Scott which caused you... Now, Perry,

now, this is all absolute trivia.

Then why didn't you meet me after the performance?

Jack Forsett wanted to talk to me, that's all.

Well, I thought it would only take a few minutes, but then I found he'd ordered

supper and... Ramona, what did you eat for supper?

I had lobster and salad.

I had coffee.

With two lumps of revolting sugar.

My hands.

We checked with the hotel, Miss Carver. They

confirmed your story.

Naturally. Up to a point. The waiter is convinced you had supper in Mr.

Forsett's suite. But he's not quite as positive he actually saw you there.

I believe I was out of the room combing my hair when he wheeled the table in.

Lobster and a salad.

I assume you waited.

Didn't you check the empty plates?

Yes, I did.

But the thought occurs that Mr. Forsett could have eaten both meals.

That is an impudence, sir.

My girth is due to a glandular imbalance.

Sorry.

The fact the waiter didn't see Miss Carver in the room doesn't mean she

there.

On the other hand, we have the statement by Diker.

Oh, yes.

The charming young man who interviewed us for the student paper.

He claims he saw you entering the dead man's office.

Well, I thought it was you, Miss Carver, but...

Well, she says she was at the hotel. Maybe I saw somebody else.

You going to change your story?

Well, if I made a mistake.

Never mind. I'll talk to you later.

Now, let's get this straight.

The curtain came down at 11 o 'clock.

In the review he wrote, Kramer criticized in detail your changed second

program. You changed it as you went along, as I understand.

So it's obvious that Kramer dashed over to his office, sat there typing for 15

minutes, maybe a half hour.

Before his killer interrupted him.

He had been dead for at least an hour after that when you walked in, Mr.

At 1240, that's right.

So now, Miss Carver, during the half hour after the curtain came down... The

lobster was broiled.

Salad had the most repulsive rope addressing it.

Mr. Forsett, was she with you continuously during that period?

I've already given you my word for that, sir.

Really, how many times must I repeat the... Mr. Rogers, will you step out

please?

Mr. Rogers is with the tax department.

Would you mind explaining why you're at the performance tonight?

Well, Mr. Fawcett here owes the government an extremely large sum in

So that's who you are.

The local bloodhound.

Go on, Mr. Rogers.

Well, it's the policy of the Bureau to make spot checks on these delinquent

accounts. Tonight, Mr. Fawcett was handed some cash receipts, so I remained

in the theater until after the performance and then followed him back

hotel. You mean you followed Mr. Forsett and Miss Carver, don't you? No.

Miss Carver was still in her dressing room at the time Forsett left here.

Then she joined him in his hotel room a few moments later, perhaps.

No, sir.

Not unless she went up the fire escape.

I was watching.

Nobody went into that room except Forsett, the waiter, and finally him.

Thank you, Mr. Rogers. I think that does it.

Now, Mr. Forsett, would you care to confirm Miss Carver's alibi again?

Blast it, Ramona.

I'm sorry.

All right.

Miss Carla will continue this at headquarters.

I'm sorry too, Mary.

But I shall not go quiet.

Mr. Fossett had given me permission to watch from backstage, and that's how I

could see Miss Carver when she left the theater.

Let's be a little more exact, Mr. Diger.

You testified that she came out of the auditorium hurriedly.

But if you were backstage, how could you tell which direction she took?

You see, I wasn't backstage then.

You see, Mr. Fossett had this cab waiting outside the stage door so it

take him to his hotel room the minute the show was over.

When the curtain came down, he asked me to go outside and see if it was still

there. That's when I saw Miss Carver leave the theater and start for

Kramer's office.

Start? Yes, sir. You see, some students came running up to catch her, and she

was still signing autographs and stuff when I went back into the theater.

But then you don't know for sure that she eventually continued on in the

direction of the district's office.

Yes, sir. You see, I came outside the theater again several minutes later with

Mr. Fassett. I was walking him toward his cab, and when he left, I saw Miss

Carver break away from the students.

and start hurrying across the quad to Professor Kramer's office.

All right, then let's summarize this laboratory report.

Inside Dr. Kramer's office, you found threads of red wool on a jagged chair

edge. Which matched the skirt worn by the defendant that night.

And on the glass top of the desk.

Miss Carver's clear fingerprints, both ends, as though from resting a weight on

them. And on the wooden floor beside the body.

Miss Carver's fingerprints.

Sir, despite her statements at the time, there is just no question about it.

Ramona Carver was there.

She telephoned just shortly after I reached my hotel room. Yes, I can see

What did she say? Please be more specific, Mr. Fawcett.

Ramona didn't explain anything.

We felt him down.

But he seemed upset.

She said, please, please be a love and cover for her absence.

And so, sir, you did the gentlemanly thing and sacrificed yourself by eating

lobsters, two salads, two desserts.

I'm just a liar, that's all.

Well, you see, I was in a panic.

I went into Kramer's office.

And there was that repulsive old ogre lying all dead on the floor. And all I

could think of was how often I'd wanted to kill him.

You hired her at the unusually large percentage of profits that her contract

calls for? But I was honored to have her as a co -star.

Ramona Carver is a theatrical human area of the first magnitude.

That doesn't answer my question, sir.

Then I suspect you haven't asked it yet.

Would you say, based upon your long theatrical experience, that the

is unusually large?

It is generous.

What about the other three members of the company?

Our salaries are all adequate, sir. Quite adequate.

A lifelong friend, acting producer, and your compensation was adequate?

How is this disparity explained to you?

Or is there some special relationship existing between Ramona Carver and Simon

Weatherly?

They have been friends.

Would you say, based on your knowledge, that this relationship was younger than

or possibly older than, oh, say, for comparison's sake, the age of Mr.

Scott Everett, for instance?

Well, let me see. If memory serves.

About the time Scott Everett was born, Simon Weatherly was producing a Broadway

show in which Ramona played, um... Yes, mister?

Many newspaper critics in your time, I imagine?

Oh, yes.

It's unavoidable in the theater.

From your personal knowledge, isn't it possible an experienced critic could

write his review of a performance in, oh, as few as ten or fifteen minutes,

perhaps?

Well, I really don't... Your Honor! I'll withdraw the question.

Thank you, Mr. Penrose. That's all.

I call Mr. Scott Everett to the stand.

Yes, sir. I was acquainted with the decedent, Professor Kramer.

When? Well, a few years ago, I was in one of his drama classes.

You see, he took an interest in my career.

To the point of actively helping you?

No way.

He told me the company of four was going to need a replacement and advised me to

see Miss Carver about it.

Why Miss Carver? Wasn't the hiring being done on Mr. Fawcett?

Yes, but he wanted me to have a friend in court.

It's not an unusual approach in show business.

How did he suggest you go about enlisting Miss Carver's support?

Professor Kramer suggested I let her know I was an orphan.

He suggested you let Miss Carver believe you might be her son. Is that correct?

Ramona, I'm sorry.

Look, I didn't mean any harm.

I really am an orphan and... What else did Mr. Kramer suggest?

Nothing.

He really didn't know much about her.

Simon wasn't the father. I told you that.

No, it really was that boy from Boston.

Boy who got killed in an accident without ever knowing about the baby.

But Simon Weatherly arranged for the adoption, am I right? Yes, he paid my

and took care of me.

I suppose that's how any snoop would get the idea.

I'm trying to find your son.

Why didn't you get in touch with Simon?

Well, I did.

I wrote him several times, but he didn't answer me.

I don't know why.

Paul Drake's waiting now for an overseas cable to clear this up.

Oh, Perry, love, what difference does it all make now?

It's obvious I killed Kramer to stop him from blackmailing Simon, or I killed

him because... Here.

I am not going to cry.

Is that cable from Switzerland?

Does it say with whom Simon placed the baby for adoption?

I'm sorry, Romo.

No. It's not an easy contact and not an easy country to begin.

It doesn't really matter.

I know who my son is.

And why.

It's obvious it has to be that nice boy from Arizona.

That boy, Douglas.

Isn't it wonderful?

Mr. Everett, about a month ago you made a quick trip to Europe.

Yes, to lose some dialogue in a picture I made there.

While you were there, you managed to find a few hours to visit Davos,

Switzerland, and the sanitarium where Simon Weatherly has been a patient for

many years.

Yes, I did go there. After what Professor Kramer had told me, I... Well,

curious. And as long as I was there, I thought... You thought if Ramona Carver

was good for hundreds of dollars, perhaps Simon Weatherly, the supposed

would be good for thousands. No. Perhaps even hundreds of thousands. No, no,

they wouldn't let me see Weatherly. They wouldn't let me in.

That's what I told Kramer. Mr. Kramer is hardly in a position to verify your

contention. But nobody can see Mr.

Weatherly. Check it yourself. He's in a mental institution.

Yes, I know.

Mr. Everett, on the night of the murder, were you on stage immediately before

the final curtain?

Let's see. The last reading was from Macbeth.

That was Mr. Fawcett and Miss Garvin. So you were not on stage?

No. Neither was Mr. Penrose.

For how long, Mr. Everett?

How long was that last scene?

Ten, fifteen minutes.

But look, we were there for a curtain call. I didn't leave the theater once.

They might have changed the program again.

We often change our program, Mr. Mason, to accommodate our time schedule.

You do this as you go along?

Yes. Yes, rather like a football quarterback changing signals as he comes

the line of scrimmage.

I see.

But before the reading from Macbeth with Miss Carver, didn't you announce it to

the audience as the last number on the program?

Yes. Yes, I did. From your experience with newspaper critics, couldn't Ogden

Kramer have left the theater 10 or 15 minutes before curtain time and still

been able to write a satisfactory review?

Without staying to the end?

Yes, yes, the man certainly knew his Shakespeare.

I suppose he could have made up something.

Your Honor, there's been no groundwork laid for questioning of this kind. But I

agree to let the witness return to the stand.

Your Honor, I'm quite willing to go back to the mental institution where I'm

sure there has been adequate groundwork laid by the prosecutor in bringing up

the subject of Simon Weatherly, that is.

So perhaps you can clarify Mr. Weatherly's present position for us, Mr.

Nothing remarkable, Mr. Mason. Simon is an old, old man. An invalid.

Who no longer sees visitors. Who no longer has a family to watch out for his

interests. Whose affairs are all handled by banks.

Administrators. Old partnerships with anonymous Swiss accounts.

I'm afraid I don't comprehend the question.

Mr. Fawcett, are you one of those old partnerships?

I really fail to see... Do you write the letters that supposedly come from

Simon? Have you used your old friendship with the man, perhaps even an old

partnership account, to set up an evasion of income taxes?

I think I have a right to counsel of my own before I answer that sort of

insinuation. Insinuation?

Yes, Mr. Fawcett, it is difficult for private investigators to uncover much

than the fringes of this sort of thing in a foreign country.

But won't internal revenue do better?

Won't they find out that you, not Simon Weatherly, are the real and only

producer of the company of four?

Oh, thank you, son.

Now, please, promise there wouldn't be any of that. Not until we're sure.

Oh, nonsense.

Terry, look at this boy. His carriage, his grace.

Oh, that's my son, all right.

Maybe. We're still investigating, you know, and... And you, my love, better

up with the right answer or I promise to kill you in cold blood.

Oh, dear.

Perry, what is going to happen to Jack Forsett?

I suppose he'll be tried as quickly as possible.

We live in a pagan society.

But, Perry, is it really so terribly wrong to kill a critic?