Original subtitles

What's the gin on Flight 100?

- She's landed, sir. - That's us.

Nice smile, please, Miss La Fosse.

Hold it, please.

Sorry.

Thank you, Miss La Fosse.

- Miss La Fosse, I represent "The Record". - Oh, "The Record", yes.

Did you enjoy your trip, Miss La Fosse?

Are you planning to make a picture, Miss La Fosse?

Well, what I really want to do

- is I wanna get away from it all. - Your attention, please.

- I wanna find myself… - If a passenger on

- Pan American World Airways… - a little stolen glade somewhere…

- Flight 100, Mr Steven Smith… - … far from maddening crowd.

- is in the lounge… - I wanna get closer to nature.

- …would he please call at reception? - Closer than I've ever been before,

if possible.

- Steve Smith. - Huh?

That's Whispering Smith.

- I can just see it. - Yes.

- Now that is something. - The whitewashed buildings

gleaming in the sun, free from glitter and sham.

I wanna be all alone, all alone on my very own.

Well!

They can't do this to me, who do they think they are?

Yeah, yeah, who do they think they are?

And you stand there calling yourself a manager.

You couldn't manage my Aunt Fanny.

Hey, take it easy, Fosse, will you?

- You're in public. - I don't care what I'm in.

And don't you call me Fosse!

Telephone call for you, Mr Smith.

Thank you. Hello.

Aren't you Whispering Smith the detective?

Steve Smith, American, here on vacation.

Yes, you're talking to Steve Smith.

- Are you here on a case, Mr Smith? - Definitely not.

Who? Miss Anne Carter, yes.

Oh no, no, Miss Carter, I'm afraid not.

I'm over here on holiday.

- Where are you spending your holiday? - Cornwall, I hope.

No, no shop talk.

Definitely.

Tell you what I will do though.

If your face is as cute as your voice, I'll take you for…

Oh.

Pity.

- Hold it, Mr Smith, - Can we have a picture, Mr Smith?

Sure.

- All right. - Thank you very much.

Thank you.

Calling Mr Smith.

- Good morning. - Calling Mr Smith.

- I have a reservation, I think. - Yes, sir.

Calling Mr Steven Smith!

- It's for me. - Boy.

There we are, sir.

- Thank you. - Room 204.

- Yes, sir. - I hope you'll be very comfortable, sir.

Oh, thank you.

This way if you please, sir.

Can I get you anything, sir?

Just ask them to send up a luncheon menu, would you, please?

Certainly, sir.

Will you be lunching alone, sir?

Yes, quite alone.

Very good, sir.

May I have your things unpacked, sir?

Oh, no, no, that's not necessary.

Oh, there is one thing you can do for me.

That small bag has a pair of slacks and a robe in it.

Would you just lay them out for me?

- With pleasure, sir. - Thank you, porter.

By the way, sir, may I say we followed your last case,

the armoured car robbery, with great interest, sir.

- You did? - Oh, yes, sir.

There was a lot about it in our papers.

Well, that's one case that I'd just as soon

not have to live through again.

It did get a bit sticky towards the finish, didn't it?

Well, I'll go and organise this menu for you, sir.

Hello.

Mr Smith.

Mr Smith!

Just put it down over there.

Put what down?

Who are you?

I… I phoned you at the airport.

Why don't I come to England more often?

Mr Smith, my name is Anne Carter.

- Did you get my note? - Mm-hmm.

- What do you think about it? - It was kind of long.

Do you mind if I dry myself?

Who's this Mr Garde?

He's a publisher in New York.

I have charge of his London office.

Oh?

And what does Mr Garde's London office want with me?

We have a job for you.

Tell Mr Garde, no soap.

- No soap? - No dice, no deal.

I'm here strictly for fun.

Er, what are you doing tonight?

Please, Mr Smith, Mr Garde is a sick man,

otherwise he'd be over here himself.

Sylvia's death was a terrible shock to him.

You know any good bars in London?

She was his only daughter.

What's your favourite nightclub?

All he got was just a bold announcement and a cable

that she'd been pulled out of the Thames by the river police three weeks ago.

Maybe we ought to start off with lunch.

You aren't even listening.

I heard every word.

Mr Smith,

Mr Garde believes that his daughter was murdered.

I think we ought to have a cocktail before lunch, don't you?

Well, if I have one with you,

will you listen to what I have to say about Sylvia?

Miss Carter, you've just made yourself a deal.

Give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll meet you in the bar downstairs.

Oh, there you are.

That was quick.

Now, Sylvia left New York when she was a child.

Er, that looks good, I'll have one of those too, please.

Would you send them over to the table?

Very good, sir.

- What you having, darling? - I'll have a sherry.

Now, Miss Carter.

Give.

Well, Sylvia left New York when she was a child

and came to school here in England.

She hardly ever returned home,

but toured around the continent

with a friend she met at school.

A girl called Louise Balfour.

Since Sylvia's death, Louise seems to have disappeared.

In fact, we haven't been able to trace her at all.

Are you listening?

Mm.

Louise Balfour, a friend of Sylvia, now dead, is missing.

Yes.

Sylvia was also engaged to be…

- Cheers. - Oh, cheers.

Sylvia was also engaged to be married.

You said in your note that the police are satisfied that it was suicide.

It was the coroner's verdict.

Well, who am I to dispute the coroner?

Mr Smith, Sylvia wasn't the type of girl to kill herself.

- Who says? - Well, her father.

Well, fathers are apt to be prejudiced.

Why are you so interested in this anyway?

Well, I haven't been working for Mr Garde very long,

and naturally I want to help all I can.

A-ha!

- You've got yourself an angle. - What do you mean?

Well, let's be frank.

You are no more interested in Sylvia Garde's death than I am.

You read that I was coming over here

and you saw a chance to stir up a lot of excitement

and prove to your American boss how indispensable you are.

Might even be a bonus in it for you.

You can keep your whispering for someone else.

I'm sorry I've wasted so much of your vacation time, Mr Smith.

Oh, yes, and you might be interested to hear that

I've also wasted some of mine.

I'm supposed to be on a vacation.

Goodbye!

Oh, now, wait a minute.

Hey!

You really do need somebody to look after you.

- You all right? - Yes.

Yes, I think so.

Taxi!

Where to, guvnor?

- Just drive around for a while. - Right.

Did that look like an accident to you?

Well, it looked like someone wanted you to have one.

Exactly.

Now perhaps you'll believe that Sylvia was murdered,

and the murderer knows that I'm trying to start an investigation.

Well, that's obvious, isn't it?

Well, it could be a possible connection.

Tell me about Sylvia.

What was she like?

I don't know firsthand, I never met her.

I only spoke to her two or three times on the phone

when her cheque was overdue.

Well, you'd better cable her father for a couple of photographs.

What do you want photographs for?

When you're investigating a murder,

it's always nice to know what the victim looked like.

Then you're going to take the case?

Well… I don't know.

Maybe.

What made her father so sure it was murder?

Did he have anything to go on?

No, except that about six weeks ago,

a man turned up in New York with $6,000 worth of IOUs

signed by Sylvia.

He said that if they weren't paid, she'd be in very great danger.

I know, I know.

So he paid and he never heard from the man again?

Yes, how did you know?

That's the way a shakedown works.

- Did he ever hear from Sylvia? - No.

Well, didn't he try to get in touch with her?

Oh, he tried frantically, but she'd disappeared.

Mm.

You say that Sylvia was about to be married, to whom?

A man named Roger Ford.

Is he the one that sent the cable to Sylvia's father?

No, that was her lawyer.

- And what was his name? - Hector Reith.

- Here in town? - Yes.

I could arrange an appointment, if you'd like to meet him.

No.

No, I think I'll just drop in on him.

So long vacation.

Go on.

Tell the driver the address.

14 Golden Square.

Right, lady.

- Good afternoon, sir. - Hello.

I wonder if you'll ask Mr Reith if he'll see me.

My name's Steve Smith.

I'm afraid Mr Reith has left for the day.

Oh, that's too bad.

Any idea where he's gone?

He's playing golf.

Oh, er…

Where does he play?

Well, at the Greenfields, near Windsor.

Thanks.

I may try him there.

- Good afternoon. - Bye.

Mr Reith?

Yes, what is it?

My name is Steve Smith.

Oh.

Are you the fellow my secretary telephoned about?

Yes.

I want to talk to you about Sylvia Garde.

She didn't say it was about Sylvia.

I didn't tell her.

What a tragedy.

Did you know Sylvia?

Never met her.

Your loss, I assure you.

I knew her off and on, ever since she was 15.

I can't imagine why she took her life.

Neither can her father.

Quite, quite.

Poor fellow.

I'm not concentrating.

Do you play this game?

Er… No, not at all.

Pity.

You don't know what you're missing.

I don't miss much, Mr Reith.

Yes, Sylvia was an enchanting girl.

She had her faults, of course,

but they were all charming ones.

She was gay, generous, carefree.

To those who knew Sylvia, it was a privilege.

But then of course, few men knew Sylvia as well as I did.

Well, let's get back to her faults.

Oh, but why?

Why should we speak of the small faults of one who is dead?

So we can find out who killed her.

Killed her?

But you… you aren't serious?

What about her faults?

As I said, she was generous.

Perhaps that was what got her into difficulties.

Financial difficulties, I mean.

There was a wild streak in Sylvia.

When the notion took her, off she'd go.

Paris, Rome, Madrid, gambling at the casinos.

Sylvia loved gambling.

Were you in love with her, Mr Reith?

Aren't you being rather personal?

- Waiter. - Yes, sir.

A packet of cigarettes.

- Yes, sir. - Right away.

If you like, sir.

You forgot your golf balls, Mr Reith.

You, er, also forgot to answer my question.

What question?

Were you in love with Sylvia?

Everyone who knew Sylvia loved her.

And you think perhaps it was her generosity

that got her into the financial difficulties?

I think it's more than likely.

Did you mention that at the investigation?

Yes, I did, the coroner was investigating

cause for suicide.

And you supplied the cause?

May I ask what right you have

to delve into Sylvia's private affairs?

Look, Mr Reith, I'm a detective.

I'm working for Sylvia's father.

To me, she's just another case.

Now, either you want to help us get at the truth or you don't.

I see.

Now, I'm told that Sylvia was about to marry a man

named Roger Ford.

Do you know him?

Mr Ford is one of my clients.

Oh, can you give me his address?

Yes, I can give you his address if you want it.

Did, er, Sylvia leave Mr Ford any money?

Very little money to leave.

The estate was mostly eaten up with debts.

She left him a small bungalow near Bray on Thames

and a few minor articles of jewellery.

Most of them I think Mr Ford had given her himself.

Mm.

All right, thank you.

Oh, er, one more thing, Mr Reith.

Do you know a girl named Louise Balfour?

Balfour?

Yes, the name does sound familiar.

Wasn't she one of Sylvia's friends?

You didn't know her personally?

No.

Thanks again, Mr Reith.

You've been very helpful.

I try to be.

If we meet again, you might even grow to like me.

We'll meet again.

Mr Ford?

Mr Steven Smith?

Yes, that's right.

I've been expecting you, come on in.

Thank you.

A little hobby of mine.

I give shows with them, for charity, of course.

Did, er, Hector Reith tell you I was coming?

He said you might.

Come and sit down, Mr Smith.

Can I give you a little drink?

I have an excellent brandy I can recommend.

Thank you.

I told Mr Reith that if there is anything behind

Sylvia's death which wasn't brought to light at the inquest,

I should be only too glad to give you every assistance I can.

You make these things yourself?

Of course.

A man couldn't put on a show worth watching

unless he made his puppets himself.

Why?

Why?

- Your brandy. - Oh.

You see, the essence of creating a puppet, Mr Smith,

isn't merely governed by its physical structure.

To a puppeteer, his little actors are… alive.

Each has his own personality, his own traits.

His own philosophy.

Haven't you?

You really surprise me, Mr Ford.

Sylvia loved my puppets, Mr Smith.

Strange girl.

Strange and rather wonderful.

I shall never forget her.

I can't even accept the fact that she is dead.

Can't you?

Sylvia and I often sat in this room together,

talking, planning our future.

Whatever possessed her…

Forgive me.

Sylvia leave you any money?

Money?

Oh, very little.

Apart from what I gave her,

the poor girl had very little to leave.

Mm-hmm.

What do you know about a girl named… Louise Balfour?

Only that she was Sylvia's companion.

I didn't see a great deal of her.

Sylvia leave her any money?

No, I don't think so.

I was the sole beneficiary.

Where does Louise Balfour live now?

I'm afraid I have lost touch with her.

She was very close to Sylvia at one time,

but I think there was a quarrel.

You know what girls are, Mr Smith.

Sylvia had a certain proprietary attitude towards me,

and I think somehow she began to resent

Louise's intrusion into our privacy.

If you know what I mean.

Oh, yes.

Yes, you mean she was jealous?

As you put it so bluntly, yes,

I think jealousy did enter into it.

Can you think of any reason why your fiancée

would've taken her own life?

None at all.

Can you imagine anyone wanting to take it for her?

You're not suggesting, surely, that Sylvia was…

Thanks for the drink.

Are you implying that Sylvia was murdered?

Not yet.

Pity about Louise Balfour's address.

I'd hope to keep Scotland Yard out of this,

but I… I suppose they'll be able to find it for me.

Well, if there's anything I've forgotten I feel you should know,

I'll certainly get in touch with you.

- Mm. - Excuse me, Mr Smith.

You have a most unusual face.

I should love to do a puppet of you sometime.

Afraid I'm not the type.

Did you ever do one of Sylvia?

Never.

One of my deepest regrets.

By the way, I'm staying at the Hotel Plaza,

just in case anything should turn up.

Did Ford act like a bereaved fiancé?

He acted, period.

What's the next step?

Gonna wait here for a phone call.

Oh, who from?

Roger Ford.

But I don't understand, you've only just come from him.

That's right, I have, Annie.

In the meantime, I think I'll get some sleep.

Sleep?

Er, quaint old American custom, do you mind?

But I thought that when a detective went on a case,

a good detective that is, he worked 24 hours a day.

Oh, that's what you thought, is it?

Certainly.

That's why I've taken the room next door to yours.

You what?

Well, I… I thought that if you needed me to type for you

or make calls, I could be on hand at the time.

Besides, I feel safer.

Annie, may I tell you what you are?

- By all means. - Part idiot.

And part angel.

Hello?

By lucky chance, I ran into some friends

of Louise Balfour's after you'd left,

and they gave me her address.

Well, now that was lucky, wasn't it?

34 Albion Close.

Thank you, Mr Ford.

Wonderful what the mention of Scotland Yard will do.

He's given me Louise Balfour's address.

- Are you going to see her? - Right away.

When will you be back?

Well, that depends on Miss Balfour.

Is that why you're changing your tie?

Special occasion, Annie.

Maybe I'd better go and see her.

No, that's what you pay me for.

Well, don't overwork.

Oh, one for luck.

- Evening. - Good evening, sir.

Miss Balfour at home?

Well, she is, sir, she's just come in.

My name's Smith. I'd like to see her.

Well, it's very late, sir.

Er… Er, yes, isn't it?

Are you pricing my furniture by any chance, Mr Smith?

Oh, I er… I always did like beautiful things.

What can I do for you?

I was a friend of Sylvia Garde.

Were you?

Close friend?

Hmm.

She often spoke of you, Miss Balfour.

When I read of her death, I wanted to meet someone

who might know more about it than appeared in the papers.

There was, there was something about Sylvia, wasn't there?

There's something about everybody.

Yes, but it's…

it's hard for one to think of Sylvia as dead, isn't it?

It isn't for me.

Can I fix you a drink?

Er, no. No, thank you.

Cigarette?

I'm surprised Sylvia never told you about me.

- Did you know her that well? - Yes.

Are you trying to tell me that you were once in love with her?

How did you happen to break up?

Well, she was jealous.

There was a girl, a girl named Peggy Tomlinson.

Er, didn't she ever mention Peggy?

You're a very poor liar, aren't you?

There was a story in the evening paper about you arriving.

They published a picture of you.

I'm quite sure that if Sylvia had known anyone

as famous as Whispering Smith, she would've told me.

Don't look now, but your jaw's hanging.

- So I lied. - Why?

Maybe I wanted to find out something.

About me?

Could be.

Did you succeed?

Could be.

Now, how about that drink?

All right.

Take me out?

What's holding us back?

Tell me, do you always make such fast decisions?

Yes, always.

It might not be smart to make fast decisions about me.

Why?

Well, I'm just a poor detective.

I like working men.

- Louise? - Mm.

You know Hector Reith?

Slightly.

Think he could've had anything to do with Sylvia Garde's death?

I don't think so.

Hey, now wait a minute, wait a minute.

What are you fighting?

Everything.

Relax.

Have fun.

That's what I thought we were going to do.

All you've done is to ask questions.

You said it yourself.

I'm a working man.

From everything I've learned today, I believe Sylvia was murdered.

Now do you wanna help me find out who did it or don't you?

Of course I do, but how can I?

All I know is Sylvia wasn't like other people.

Her mind was driving and twisted.

There were times when she hated everybody.

Mostly she hated herself.

Did she hate you?

She did get the idea that Roger Ford and I were secretly in love.

And were you?

Of course not.

I liked him, but chiefly because he was to be her husband.

The three of us went around a lot together.

The three of you.

Sylvia seemed to enjoy having me along.

Then one day something happened. I…

I don't know what it was, she turned, changed.

Could I have my coat, please?

Oh.

She never spoke to me again.

I can only believe that someone poisoned her mind against me.

As for Hector Reith, I hate him.

Thought you said you didn't know him very well.

I'm the type who hates or loves at first sight.

Will I see you again?

Definitely.

Now that I've met you, I…

I don't think I'll be so afraid of things anymore.

Don't know why I should say this, but it's a feeling I have.

Sorry I was so moody.

Sorry I asked so many questions.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

You know I might kill you, buster.

No. No, don't, I… I ain't done nothing.

You want to talk?

What do you want to know?

Who hired you to tail me around?

- What do you mean? - You tried to run that girl down.

- No, I tell you— - Come on!

The agency.

What agency?

Star Opaque, the nursing home.

Did they tell you who I was?

Whispering Smith.

Where do you live?

- Got a room. - Okay, let's go to it.

But one funny move out of you

and you'll wake up in the alley with the cats looking at you.

The Star Opaque Nursing Home, eh?

A clearing house where you can hire a murderer,

a burglar, a thief, anything else you want,

as long as it's illegal, that right?

- That's it, guvnor. - Yeah.

They hired you, eh?

Who hired them?

They never tell us stiffs nothing.

You know, buster, for some reason, I believe you.

Looks like the only way I'm gonna find out who wants me dead

is to pay a little visit to the Star Opaque.

Don't go near that place.

They'll put you in one of their little rooms

and put a straitjacket on you.

Then they pour whisky down your throat.

They'll keep you there till you die of alcohol poisoning.

It's what the autopsy shows anyhow.

Nice people, huh?

Well, don't worry, buster, I don't intend to make this a social call.

And by the way, you're gonna be awful unpopular by morning.

If I were you, I'd get out of town.

It is past four o'clock in the morning.

Therefore, I presume this visit is one of the utmost importance.

Your name, please?

Smith, what's yours?

Smith?

Ah, you prefer to remain anonymous.

So many of our patients do.

I am Dr Taren.

But we waste time.

Since you have surely come on an important errand,

I should like to know at once what it is.

Somebody hired you to put a tail on me.

Who was it?

Please step a little closer.

Ah, yes.

Dementia praecox.

Hallucinations.

You have reached an acute state

where you imagine people are after you.

Advanced alcoholic delusions.

You are indeed in need of help.

Look, Dr Jekyll,

I'm not drunk and I'm not imagining things.

One of the symptoms of alcoholic derangement

is that whilst in a state of extreme inebriation,

one imagines himself to be perfectly sober.

Will you knock off the double talk?

You referred to me just now as Dr Jekyll.

Does that not prove to you that even identities are becoming blurred

by the alcoholic haze?

Williams, we have a new patient with us.

You will put him in Room 113.

He appears to be calm, but be on your guard.

He is a manic depressive, suffering intense melancholia,

which produces the hallucination that he is being followed.

He may try to elude you. Do not let him.

For his own good, he must be confined.

Come on.

Don't do that, Mr Smith.

Nice little snake pit you got here.

Williams, I asked you to take Mr Smith to Room 113.

Steve?

Annie.

I'm in here, come on in.

Oh, Steve, I've been going crazy.

I thought something had happened to you.

Are you kidding?

Where have you been all night?

You have now had your wish.

I have worked 24 hours around the clock.

Louise Balfour?

Not all this time, Annie.

Look, I've gotta sleep, will you do something for me?

Mm.

Call Inspector Meaker at Scotland Yard, Dave Meaker.

Tell him I'd like to see him about 11 o'clock tomorrow morning.

- Right. - Oh, and tell him too that, er,

might be worth his while if he investigated

the Star Opaque Nursing Home.

Why?

Well…

I don't like 'em.

They tried to kill me.

Yes, but just because they tried to k…

They did what?

Call the inspector, Annie.

Steve, don't go to sleep.

You can't leave me in the air like this.

You can't.

Oh, but, Annie, I can.

Steve.

Please don't call me Annie.

My name's Anne.

I've got dementia praecox, alcoholic hallucinations.

I'm in a bad way, Annie.

Now look here, Steve.

I've had the Star Opaque under observation for the past six weeks,

building up a lovely case against them.

Within 12 hours of your arriving in England,

you raid the place on your own

and scare the living daylights out of them.

Well, we're all even, they scared the living daylights out of me.

Well, serves you right.

It may interest you to know that I raided the Star Opaque Nursing Home

earlier this morning, and what did I find?

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Soon as you'd gone,

they got busy and destroyed every stitch of evidence.

Er, Dave, not to change the subject,

but I did introduce my new assistant, didn't I, Miss Carter?

You did. How do you do again?

You too.

Well, since when have you had an assistant?

- Since the day I met her. - Yesterday.

Oh, well.

What are you doing here at Scotland Yard this morning anyway?

I'm trying to find out something about the death of Sylvia Garde.

You remember that name?

Yes, I do indeed.

- Suicide. - Well, I wonder.

I've been checking up on some of her friends.

Sergeant, bring in last month's suicide file, will you?

Yes, I want the report on Sylvia Garde, spinster, deceased.

You know a lawyer named Hector Reith?

Yes, he was Sylvia Garde's trustee, wasn't he?

What do you think of him?

Oh, he's got a good practice.

Know any of his clients?

No, not personally.

One of them was in the news last year, he, er,

he was being blackmailed and…

Well, you know, Steve, if only those fellows would come to the police,

we might be able to help them.

How'd he get into the news?

Throwing himself off Tower Bridge.

Doesn't that seem like sort of a strange coincidence?

Yes, yes, it is, now you come to think of it.

Sylvia Garde and…

Both Hector Reith's clients.

Oh, that's all it is probably, just coincidence.

Mm.

File on Sylvia Garde, sir.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Well, the coroner was satisfied anyway.

Oh, and Reith gave evidence.

Said she was moody and hysterical.

Suicide seemed quite logical.

How long was the body in the water?

Three or four weeks.

Unrecognisable, of course.

How was it identified?

Clothing and jewellery.

Oh, er, mind if I have a look?

Do.

Not very pretty, I'm afraid.

Not very.

Well.

Anything else?

No, er… No, thanks, Dave, you've been very helpful.

Sorry about that Star Opaque business.

Well, your methods are a bit too revolutionary for us, Steve.

Tell me the truth, Dave.

What would you give for a half hour on your own

in Hector Reith's office?

Now listen, Steve,

I don't know what's at the back of your mind,

but I should like to remind you that as far Sylvia Garde is concerned,

the police are quite satisfied she committed suicide.

Mm. Could be.

See you around, Dave.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Hello?

Yes.

This is Miss Balfour speaking.

This is Steve Smith. Do you own a car?

I do, yes.

I'd like you to take me for a drive.

What's it all about?

I'll tell you when I see you. I'll be right over.

He's coming over.

Better get out the back way.

Why are you so anxious to see Sylvia's bungalow?

Just a hunch.

Frankly, I think you're wasting your time with all this murder business.

Sylvia was definitely suicidal.

None of her friends were at all surprised at her death.

Tell me…

was Sylvia a heavy drinker?

Why do you ask?

Well, I just wondered if she might ever have been

in a home for alcoholics,

such as the Star Opaque Nursing Home.

I've no idea, why?

Trying to get a mental picture of Sylvia,

but it's kind of difficult.

I get a different impression of her from everybody I talk to,

everybody who knew her.

Who for example?

Well, you, Reith, Ford.

Anybody else?

Hmm.

Little girl named Anne Carter.

Did she know her well?

No.

No, never saw her, as a matter of fact.

Just had a few telephone conversations with her.

I see.

Nice place.

Looks well taken care of.

Now what?

Well, the puppet man.

I didn't expect to see you here, Mr Smith.

Oh, how are you, Louise?

I'm very well, thank you.

I just came down to look the place over. Do you mind?

Er, not at all, not at all.

I'll be glad to show you the place myself.

I expect you're surprised to see me here, Mr Smith.

You see, Ivanhoe is a sort of shrine to me.

Sylvia and I spent some of our happiest moments here.

And whenever I have a little free time,

I like to come down here and try to recapture

some of the memories we shared together.

Isn't it beautiful?

Sad and wistful,

as though the birds themselves are mourning for her.

Nice boat.

Would you care to see the inside of the bungalow?

Yes.

Yes, I would, very much.

Everything is exactly as Sylvia left it.

Louise is the only woman to enter this place since Sylvia.

Place been cleaned up at all?

Only superficially.

I attend to that myself.

You forgot to empty the ashtrays.

That was Sylvia's cigarette.

Sorry.

You've really made a shrine of this place, haven't you?

Is that a… a crime?

Forgive me for injecting a mercenary note here, Mr Ford,

but this place would sell for a lot of money.

The idea of selling it would be unthinkable.

I came down here today to collect a few personal things,

if you'll excuse me for a moment.

Please take me away.

Don't you like it here?

I hate it.

Suppose you tell me what's bothering you.

There were two Sylvias.

A good one and… and an evil one.

It's the evil one she's left behind.

What about Ford?

That man awakens memories of Sylvia I want to forget.

Please.

Okay.

- Feeling better? - Yes, thank you.

The drive did me good.

Am I gonna see you again?

Well, now that… that sounds like an invitation for me to go.

I want to see you as often as I can.

Do you?

You don't believe me.

Why don't you?

Something about you that's just too good to be true.

I can't figure out what it is.

I'm not perfect.

Who is?

People pretend.

I never try to pretend.

I know my own mind, I say what I mean.

I wish I'd have met you years ago.

Call me later.

Yeah.

Yeah, I'll call you.

That was a touching little scene, I must say.

Do you think I meant what I said?

You were very convincing.

If I thought you were falling for that lout…

I know what I'm doing.

What are you doing?

Clouding his brain with love.

I'm trying to find out how much he knows.

I'm warning you.

You'll have to move fast to keep up with him.

Don't worry, my dear.

After tonight, it won't make any difference.

And what about Anne Carter?

I'll leave her to you.

Hello?

Oh, Miss Carter,

there are four, erm… gentlemen here to see you.

They say they've come in answer to your advertisement.

Collectively or singularly, miss?

Very good, miss.

Told you, didn't I?

Page.

Take this, er, this, erm, gentleman up to Mr Smith's suite, please.

- Blimey! - Get on with it!

Come on!

Miss Carter, this, er, person

says he has an appointment with you.

Just call me Cecil.

Oh… Oh, Cecil.

How do you do?

'Ere, them other blokes down there, they're no good, see?

- No? - No.

There's not one of them with a decent character.

Now, I'm the boy for the job.

Especially safe-busting.

Good, you're hired.

Now look, Cecil, the position is this.

I want you to help me open the safe of a friend.

All right, miss. Now, where is it?

Meet me at ten o'clock at 14 Golden Square tonight.

Right.

Oh, Steve.

This is Cecil.

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

- Who's Cecil? - He's going to help us.

- Help us? - Yes.

You said you wanted to see the inside of Reith's office,

so I advertised for an expert in safe opening.

- You what?! - Yes.

All right, Cecil, that'll be all.

Here you are.

Hey, what's the divvy, 50/50?

You'll have to ask the young lady, she does the negotiating around here.

Well, I'll give you 20 for the job.

All right, miss. Well, so long, guv.

Thanks, Cecil.

You mean to say, you actually advertised in a paper

for a… a… how'd you get them to take it?

I tried them all.

This one took it.

Well, if that doesn't top everything.

And where have you been?

Er, me?

Oh, there was a guy I had to see.

Mm. Well, the next time you see this guy,

ask him to remove his lipstick.

Oh, that. Oh, I, er…

I got that strictly in the line of duty.

You'll have to stand in the line of fire.

Now look, stop racing your motor, will you?

Louise Balfour is the key to your whole suicide mystery.

Yes.

This is Roger Ford.

Oh, hello, Mr Ford.

Can you possibly meet me tonight?

It's about Sylvia.

What about her?

I'm afraid I can't talk over the phone.

I'm being watched.

Can you come down to the bungalow?

I think it's the safest place for us to talk.

Well, I…

I'm in great danger, Mr Smith.

Okay.

I'm on my way.

Ford.

Wants me to meet him tonight at Sylvia's bungalow.

Can I borrow your car?

You're not going?

Yes, I think I will.

It's probably a trap.

Anyway, what about Cecil? He's fixed for tonight.

We'll have to stall him for a while.

I could go.

That is out.

Definitely out.

Yes, Mr Smith.

- Hello. - Hector, it's on tonight.

Stop worrying.

It's going to look just like an accident.

You'd better be right.

Is that you, Smith?

- Yes. - Come over in the boat.

It's in the boathouse.

How am I doing?

Not bad for a beginner.

All right, that's enough.

Well, here goes.

Got what you want?

Yes, thanks.

Is that all you want?

- That's all. - Blimey, you're easily satisfied.

Yes, of course, yes.

You know you got talent, my girl.

With a bit of encouragement,

there's no telling where it'll lead you.

- Wait a minute. - What's the matter?

- Rozzer. - Eh?

- Rozzer! Thick, flatfoot cop. - Oh.

Dreadful life that that poor fella's had.

I wouldn't have that job for all the tea in China.

My old man wanted me to.

Dead keen he was.

But I took a firm stand.

I can see that.

We'll give him half a minute.

Now, er, what was I saying?

Oh, yes.

Er, pity to waste talent like yours.

I got a little jewellery shop up my sleeve.

Just your hand right in.

Now, what are you doing on Friday?

Oh, it's you, Steve.

I thought I told you not to come here.

Somebody had to.

Anyway, I've got what we want.

- Thanks to Cecil. - Good, good.

Let's get outta here before that cop comes back.

- Oh, suits me. - Oh, there you are, Cecil.

- It's all there. - Thank you, guvnor.

That little girl of yours has got a lot of talent.

It's a crime to waste it.

- Oh, it is. - Yeah.

A wicked crime, guvnor.

Well, goodnight, guv.

- Goodnight, miss. - Goodnight.

Hey! Don't forget our date on Friday.

Come on.

Apparently Reith kept one of these little black books

on every one of his clients except Sylvia Garde.

Look at that, their hobbies, their income, their private lives.

He didn't miss a trick.

Then Reith is a blackmailer.

You bet your life he is.

Annie, I think we're beginning to get somewhere.

Oh, look at this.

What do you make of that?

Oh.

Looks like a piece of a woman's dress.

- Mm. - Where did you find it?

In Sylvia's bungalow.

It was stuck to the gunnel of a small boat.

Is there any significance in that?

Well, could be.

Suppose this was a bit of the dress

Sylvia was wearing when she was murdered.

Yes, but how did it get stuck to the gunnel of the boat?

Exactly, how?

Now, Sylvia's body was unrecognisable when it was picked up.

That means that it was under the water for a long time.

But if it was suicide,

- why didn't it come to the surface sooner? - Yes.

Now let's assume that Sylvia was murdered at Bray,

perhaps by drowning.

Then the murderer took the body,

lashed it under the keel of the boat,

and kept it there until it was unrecognisable.

Then he cut it away,

hoping that the stream would carry it away.

Now, are we getting anywhere?

Well, it would be a clever way to get rid of a body.

Hector Reith is clever.

Yes.

So is Roger Ford.

Yeah, Roger too. He's a clever guy.

And Louise.

She's a clever gal.

So, Mr Smith, I'm afraid we're right back where we started.

Oh, no, not quite, Annie.

At least now we've got a motive for Hector Reith, blackmail.

Sylvia knew more than was good for her.

What woman doesn't?

Yes, I see what you mean.

Well anyway, first thing in the morning,

if I can borrow that car of yours,

I'm gonna start making a few calls.

Well, you better work fast.

When Reith finds out what we've done to that lovely safe of his,

he's going to move heaven and earth to stop you.

Yeah. You take those two books along to Inspector Meaker in the morning.

If he wants to know where you found them,

tell him… tell him I'll answer that personally.

Right.

In the meantime, I'll be having a little chat

with Mrs Arthur Pearson.

Mr Smith.

I'm not in the habit of discussing my personal affairs.

Mrs Pearson, I'm trying to help you.

Why are you lying to me?

Please.

Please leave me alone.

Hector Reith was your lawyer, wasn't he?

I refuse to answer any more questions.

That is final.

If you'd just tell me what's frightening you.

Goodbye, Mr Smith.

Goodbye, Mrs Pearson.

But I have information to the contrary.

There must be some mistake.

I've never heard of Hector Reith.

Mr Parker, there's no mistake about your name in this book.

I'm sorry.

I can't help you.

- Yes. - Hector?

Roger Ford.

He's working on those names.

He's just left Parker.

All right.

Now listen.

The only one I'm worried about is Manson.

Get to Manson before he does and stop him talking.

Mr Manson, I'll give you my personal word

that anything you choose to tell me

I'll keep strictly off the record.

All right.

About a year ago, I met a girl named Julie Watson.

They say there's no fool like an old fool.

I was no exception.

You fell for her.

I did.

She was the most evil and the most fascinating creature I've known.

The sort of woman that men like me are fair game for.

She bled me of every penny I possessed.

And then one day she disappeared.

Shortly afterwards, I received a blackmail letter.

Mm.

You're married?

My wife was an invalid.

The author of the letter threatened to tell her

what had happened between me and the girl.

- Did you go to a lawyer? - Yes.

I went to my solicitor, Hector Reith.

Hector Reith.

All he did was to show me how to raise on collateral

to meet the blackmailer's demands.

I may say that as a result of his advice,

I'm today reduced to one small business.

I had a chain of 11 shops.

And your wife?

She died.

Then they let you alone.

The only consolation left to me

was knowing that my wife died in ignorance

of the whole rotten business.

Can you describe this girl for me, Mr Manson?

She was exotic.

Dark hair, vivid blue eyes.

And to me she had the face of an angel.

Mind if I ask you one more question?

By all means.

You know a man named Roger Ford?

Very well.

He used to run puppet shows,

when he wasn't busy collecting blackmail money from people like me.

You don't happen to have a photograph or a snapshot

of this girl, do you?

I have, but not here.

Well, could you get one for me sometime?

I can probably get one for you by tonight.

Shall I send it to you?

No, no, I'll drop around for it later.

All right, look in again about nine o'clock.

- I'll see if I can find it. - Thanks.

Oh, and, Mr Manson,

I've been interviewing people like you all day.

You're the first one that's had the guts to talk.

So watch your step, will you?

I'm aware of the risk, Mr Smith.

We must apologise for a temporary break in transmission.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, we will play a gramophone record.

Ford.

What do you want?

Switch on, Manson.

A little louder.

Now that one.

We'll have one more.

Louder.

Louder!

No!

No, Ford, don't!

- I want to talk to you. - Come in, darling,

I've been trying to get you all day.

Why have you been holding out on me?

What do you mean?

You said the other day that Roger Ford awakened memories of Sylvia

that you wanted to forget.

What were those memories?

Was she a Jekyll and Hyde character?

Was she the kind of woman that made you love her one day

and hate her the next?

Manson started out by loving her.

- You know Manson? - No.

I've just seen him.

Men the wrong side of 50

were natural prey for a woman like Sylvia, weren't they?

Manson just told me the whole story, would you like to hear it?

I don't know what you're talking about.

All right, I'll explain.

Reith was using Sylvia as an instrument of blackmail,

but that instrument recoiled, honey.

Sylvia got a little too ambitious, didn't she?

That isn't true.

Maybe she figured there wasn't enough in the deal for her.

So she started blackmailing Reith

and he murdered her himself.

- Isn't that right? - No!

It's true and you know it.

You've known all along the kind of woman that Sylvia was,

and just what she was up to.

She was rotten to the core

and she got what was coming to her.

For some reason, you've been trying to protect her. Why?

Stop, please, stop!

- Did you send for Reith? - No.

- Are you sure? - Yes.

It's me he's after, he'll kill me.

Is there a back exit here?

Yes, through the kitchen.

Okay. Okay, beat it.

Wait for me in the lobby in my hotel, I'll be there.

- All right. - Hurry up.

Open up!

Open the door, let me in!

I'd like to talk to you, Mr Reith.

Good evening.

Don't move, Mr Smith.

I said, "Don't move."

Ooh!

Come on, move!

No, don't shoot!

Ford, don't shoot!

Hello?

Hello? Hello?

Hello?

Hello, Anne, is that you?

- Steve. - Yeah, it's Steve.

- Now listen, Anne— - But, Steve…

Well, I haven't time to explain now, listen to me.

Go down to the lobby of the hotel. Louis Balfour's on her way there.

Yeah, whatever you do, don't let her out of your sight.

- Steve… - Annie, Annie,

will you do as I say? I'll explain later.

Don't let Louise Balfour out of your sight.

Just a moment, sir.

- Inspector? - Yes.

There's a Mr Smith to see you.

Hello.

- Well, what do you want? - What's going on, Dave?

- Who do you want to see? - I want to see Mr Manson.

Come inside.

They don't waste much time, do they?

He was alive at five o'clock this afternoon.

How do you know?

I was with him.

He was one of Reith's clients.

Oh, by the way, what'd you think of that little black book

of Reith's that I sent you?

Gave me enough to sign a warrant for his arrest.

Well, you can save the warrant. Reith's dead.

Ford came gunning for me and hit Reith by mistake.

Here you are, sir.

This all you could find?

These are the only things of a personal nature, sir.

All he had was a furnished room. Practically nothing in it.

- All right, thank you. - All right, sir.

No help, huh?

I don't know. Spectacles, watch, pipe.

And a snapshot of him with some girl.

A snapshot? Let me see that.

Holy cats!

Why, do you know her?

I'll say I know her.

Excuse me, sorry.

Get me Miss Anne Carter, will you, please?

Yes, sir. Miss Carter.

Tell her I'm on the way up.

Oh, Mr Smith, there's an air mail for you.

- It's marked special delivery. - Oh.

Oh, yes.

I'm sorry, sir, there doesn't seem to be a reply from Miss Carter's room.

No re… She's gotta be there, are you kidding?

- I'll ring the doorman, sir. - Yeah.

Are you sure you called the right room?

Oh, Jeremy.

Miss Anne Carter, have you seen her?

- Oh, you have? - What's he say?

Yes.

Mr Smith is inquiring about her.

For Pete's sake, what's he say?

Really?

- Oh, quite so. Thank you. - Come on, come on, pal.

All right, Jeremy, I'll tell him that.

Yes, I see.

The porter says that Miss Carter and a lady friend

left about half an hour ago, sir.

They got into a car and drove away.

Holy cats!

Look, get in touch with Scotland Yard.

Tell them to get some men out to Ivanhoe,

Bray on Thames, right away.

Come on, on the double, pal, on the double.

These Americans.

Really!

Get me Scotland Yard.

You're going to kill me, aren't you?

Of course, dear.

Just as soon as Roger arrives.

Yes, Roger Ford.

Roger prefers to do these things himself.

He dislikes shooting, it's untidy.

He prefers drowning.

So you know about that?

Yes, it's what happened to Sylvia.

Yes, it was rather sad in a way.

We had to drown her, like a kitten.

You see, Sylvia had learned about us.

About your blackmail ring.

Of course.

Just the way you're learning about us.

You're insane, aren't you?

Completely and horribly insane.

I suppose I am in a way, but no one will know it now.

Steve Smith will know.

Steve Smith! You loved him, didn't you?

But I paid him even a higher compliment.

I respected him.

But he was too clever.

That's why Roger killed him.

Kill him? Er…

In my apartment an hour ago.

You see, Steve was out of his class,

because Roger's a genius.

Steve's not dead. You're lying!

We shall see.

Stay where you are!

Don't move.

You see, you are lying.

You're afraid that might be Steve.

I knew you were lying.

Now what, Louise?

Do you dare to shoot it out with Steve Smith?

I don't think that'll be necessary.

I have no intention of fighting a gun duel with your famous Whispering Smith.

He won't try the front of the house now, he'll probably try the back.

When he does, I'll… I'll be behind these curtains.

Till he happens to turn his back.

And then you'll shoot?

Not unless you warn him.

I'm telling you, quite frankly, if you dare say one word to him

when he comes into this room, I'll shoot him down in front of your eyes.

Remember, not a word.

This gun will be pointing straight at him.

Anne.

Where is she?

It all checks.

We were right about their tying her to the bottom of the boat, it all adds up.

Where is she?

Anne, what's the matter? Where is she?

- I'm right behind you, Whispering Smith. - Steve, she's got a gun!

Drop that gun, Steve.

Roger's on his way over.

He wouldn't like it if I had to shoot you.

Louise is crazy, Steve, completely insane.

This isn't Louise.

Louise Balfour is dead.

Isn't she?

- Of course. - Then who…?

I forgot to introduce myself, Anne.

I am Sylvia Garde.

You killed Louise Balfour, didn't you, Sylvia?

Then you figured your best concealment

would be to take your victim's identity.

How did you find out, Steve?

I should have suspected that first night in your apartment.

The silver cigarette box

with the American antique dealer's name on the bottom of it.

Your British accent threw me at first too.

But you went to school here, didn't you?

Then I realised that everything you told me

about Sylvia Garde fitted Louise Balfour perfectly.

All I needed was proof.

And so you have it all figured out.

That's right.

Louise had to be put out of the way

because she knew about your blackmailing Manson

and she was threatening to tell Papa, isn't that right?

Yes, it was a pity too.

I liked Louise.

Now, why don't you be a good girl and give me those guns?

But I'm not a good girl, Steve.

That's quite a point.

Stop or I'll shoot!

But I don't want to until… until Roger arrives.

Roger's not arriving, Sylvia.

He was arrested an hour ago for the murder of Hector Reith.

- That's not true! - I was there when he did it.

He was shooting at me, but he killed Reith.

No. No. No. No, he's on his way over!

Why don't you stop kidding yourself, Sylvia?

The police are on their way here,

but Roger's not going anywhere,

except eventually to the gallows.

No! No, not Roger.

He's too clever for them.

They'll never hang him.

They'll never put a noose around Roger!

It's the police.

The filthy police have arrested him.

Roger!

Roger!

Give me the police.

Are you sure Mr Smith left no message for me?

No, miss, nothing at all.

Oh.

Well, if any letters come for me, this will be my address.

Certainly, miss.

I hope you have a nice holiday.

Thank you.

Hello, Plaza Hotel. Yes, sir.

Oh, yes, sir. She's just this moment left.

Here is a special announcement.

I have a message for a Miss Anne Carter.

- Will Miss Anne Carter please go— - Annie.

Annie, it's me, Steve.

I missed you at the hotel.

Look, Annie, wherever you are,

will you come to the Station Master's Office right away?

Which way to the Station Master's Office?

- Steve. - Annie!

Oh, I thought I'd missed you.

Look, I, erm…

I've got another case for you if you want to take it.

Oh…

Me.

Permanent like.

Oh, Steve!

Miss, your train leaves in a minute.

We'd better get going. We got a lot of vacation to catch up on.

Come on.

Steve, just one thing.

- What? - Don't call me Annie.