All language subtitles for The.Alfred.Hitchcock.Hour.1962.S01E15.The.Thirty.First.of.February.DVD

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of
the ensemble.

I suppose you think I'm the prompter.
I'm not.

I am the conductor.

This is my answer to outdoor opera.

Singing opera in the outdoors is like
painting with oils underwater.

I don't claim the art suffers, but the
artist does.

The orchestra may have a bit of
difficulty seeing me.

but I am also less of a target for the
audience should they decide to become

demonstrative. I understand the soprano
and the tenor have stopped fighting, so

the curtain must be about to go up.

But before you see tonight's opus, we
present this little opera bouffe.

I've heard the testimony of Dr.

Payne, the Andersons' family physician.

And we've also had a report from
Sergeant Kress, who was summoned to the

Anderson home on the night of the
tragedy.

Now, Mr. Anderson, we would like you to
tell us exactly what happened on the

evening of February 4th, prior to the
death of the deceased.

We have already read the transcript of
the testimony you gave to the police,

but perhaps you wouldn't mind going over
the details another time.

Would you take the chair, please, Mr.
Anderson?

Where is it, right hand?

Do you follow me, sir, to tell the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but

the truth? I do. Be seated.

Well, it was about 8 o'clock.

That's the hour my wife and I generally
dined on the help's night off.

She was in the kitchen.

She liked the opportunity to have the
kitchen to herself once a week and

always made one of my favorite dishes.

She always refused to tell me what we
were having for dinner.

But my guess was beef stroganoff.

Valerie suggested a bottle of wine with
dinner. We debated briefly as to whether

to have a burgundy or a claret and
finally decided on a Beaujolais.

She went to get a bottle from the
cellar.

I returned my paper.

Several moments passed.

Then there was a thud.

It was dark in the cellar, and she
didn't answer me. I wondered where she

was. The light in the cellar had burned
out.

I, uh, I suppose I was a little panicky
by this time.

I couldn't imagine what had happened.

And then I saw her.

At first, I only saw her foot.

And then...

As soon as I touched her face, I knew
she was dead.

I rushed upstairs and called Dr. Payne.

Later, he called the police.

Thank you, Mr. Anderson.

One moment, please.

The district attorney may want to ask
you a few questions.

Mr. Anderson, why, when your wife was
busy preparing dinner, did you allow her

to go down into the cellar after the
wine instead of going after it yourself?

She always did.

She knew where it was.

I see.

Now, about the cellar light.

Sergeant Kress has already testified
that the bulb was burned out, as you've

said, but how long had it been burned
out?

I don't know.

I rarely went down to the cellar.

Why do you suppose Mrs. Anderson used
matches to light her way down when there

was a flashlight so conveniently nearby
in the hallway?

Well, things like that, tools and
whatnot, were my department.

She never could find a pair of pliers
and an extension cord, a tube of cement.

This book of matches marked Exhibit A.

These are the matches that were found
beside your wife's body, are they not?

I suppose she picked them up hurriedly.

She was known as Val?

To a few of her close friends.

I always call her Valerie.

That will be all, Mr. Anderson. You may
step down. Thank you.

Based upon the police report and the
evidence heard here...

We find that the death of Valerie
Anderson was accidental.

Death was due to a fracture of the
cervical vertebrae sustained when the

deceased suffered a fall in the Anderson
home on February the 4th of this year.

Thank you.

These things are always an ordeal, but
it's over now.

Well, thank you, Sergeant. I'm grateful
for the courtesy and understanding

you've all shown.

Not at all.

Keep him.

Okay, pal, on your way.

Good to see you back.

Thank you, Molly.

You're sure you're not rushing things?

Work's the best thing for me right now.

Oh, Mr. Anderson, we hadn't expected you
quite so soon.

Well, I mean... It's all right, Maggie.
It's best to get these awkward moments

over with as soon as possible. Yes, sir.

Mr. Gordon phoned three times this
morning.

Things haven't changed much in three
weeks. And Mr. Benson scheduled a

meeting for ten.

Andy! Good to see you.

I'm meaning to call you, you know, and
say how sorry I was. I'm glad you

didn't, Charlie. I'd rather talk
business right now.

Yes,

Mr. Anderson?

That's right. Will you get Mr. Gordon
back again before he has to call a

fourth time? I'm afraid he's already
online, too, Mr. Anderson.

Anderson? Yes, Mr. Gordon. Sorry to hear
of your loss.

Well, thank you. That's very kind of
you.

Terrible shock.

Well, I appreciate your sympathy, Mr.
Gordon.

How's the new container coming?

The new container for kiddie modes? Just
a moment, please.

I wrote you a week or so ago, giving my
ideas.

Yes, I agree. The container should be
opaque.

Yes, the Indian figures should be cut
out for kiddies. We've had time to go

through them. I'm sorry I haven't been
able to carry through on this, but...

The last sketches you submitted were no
good at all.

Anderson?

I'll make those changes right away, Mr.
Gordon.

Yes, Mr. Anderson?

Miss Wright, didn't you keep my calendar
up to date while I was away?

Well, yes, I think so. I mean, I always
do.

Well, today is Monday the 25th.

Will you please bring it up to date?

I'm due for the conference with Mr.
Henson.

You gentlemen are my top executives.

Perhaps one of you can explain to me
what this is.

Andy?

I'm sorry, Mr. Vincent. I've never seen
that particular container before. I've

been away for a few weeks.

Then let me explain for your benefit.

This is Whisker Off, a revolutionary new
shaving preparation contained in a

prosaic and commonplace old-fashioned
tube designed by our organization.

This is unthinkable.

Mr. Vincent, the manufacturer did
express a desire for a tube.

Manufacturers don't know what they want,
I think. That's why they come to us, the

leading industrial designers in the
business.

Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but... I've had to
take on several added accounts lately

with Andy gone and... Whisk her off is
the new miracle shaving preparation. You

just rub it on and whisk it off.

And whiskers are painlessly gone.

Completely. Not for hours, but for a
day. A full day.

Whisk.

Why, doesn't that immediately suggest
the most modern packaging?

Why, it's almost spelled out for you.

Andy, I'm putting you in charge of this.

Come up with an attractive container.

Give me something creative, something
worthy of Vincent Industrial Design.

You're the man to do it. I appreciate
your confidence, sir. Try it on

yourself. Personal reaction, nothing
like it.

It's priceless, Andy, priceless.

Gentlemen.

I have discovered a bright young fellow
who I think would be a credit to this

organization. And I'd appreciate it very
much if you'd kind of take him under

your wing and show him the ropes.

You want to start him in retail display?

I'd be happy to, Mr. Vincent. I've got a
lot of back work to catch up on. Oh, so

much the better.

Baptism of fire, that sort of thing.

See what he's made of.

Name's Granville.

I'll be glad to keep an eye on him.
Good.

Put him on Whiskeroff.

He might have some ideas.

Mr. Anderson?

Yes? I'm Peter Granville. I'm supposed
to start working here today. Oh, yes.

Mr. Vincent spoke about you. Glad to
have you join us. Thank you, sir.

Uh, Miss Wright, would you take Mr.
Granville up to the retail display unit,

have Marshall fill him in on basic
procedure?

I'd be glad to.

I'll be along as soon as I get free.
Thank you, Mr. Anderson. Oh, Mr. Gordon

phoned again.

Oh, I'll get him.

Uh, you go along, Mr. Granville.

Mr. Gordon, please.

That's right. Haven't you changed this
calendar yet?

That's right.

Mr. Anderson.

Sergeant Chris.

What did you want to see me about?

I'd be a little more comfortable if we
had our talk inside, don't you think?

Yes.

Thank you.

Thank you. Take your coat.

No, no, thank you. I'm not going to be
long.

Drink?

Yes, as a matter of fact, a little
bourbon neat, if you don't mind.

Kind of take the chill out.

Mr. Anderson, to the best of your
knowledge, do you have any enemies?

Why?

Police department, et cetera, et cetera,
et cetera, dear sir.

Ray, the case of Valerie Anderson's
demise.

It might interest you to know that her
husband always hated her and made her

life miserable.

That's a lie.

It might also interest you to know that
Anderson had her life insured for $50

,000.

Wasn't it a remarkable coincidence that
she just happened to fall down those

stairs sometime afterwards?

Let me see that.

No signature, of course.

There is a postscript, however.

P.S., what about those matches?

Well, what about those matches?

What about the letter?

It's a pack of lies and innuendos that
sometimes afterwards happen to be two

years later.

And we were both insured for $50,000, as
I'm sure you know. Now, Mr. Anderson,

don't get upset. I'm not accusing you of
anything.

I'm merely curious as to the identity of
the letter writer, that's all.

Well, whoever he is, he's beneath
contempt.

Of course he is.

A sheep.

However, that postscript does bring up a
rather bothersome point.

A point that really wasn't covered at
the inquest.

No?

As you recall, according to the evidence
presented, your wife, having tried to

sell a life and finding it not
functioning, chose not to tell you, but

got a book of matches, lit one, and
started down the stairs.

So? Either tripping or falling while the
match was lit, or losing her footing

when the match went up. The book of
matches presumably falling with her,

since they were found by her hand on the
cellar floor.

So?

Well, Mr. Anderson, no burned-out match
was found.

Well, maybe she didn't use one.

Why would she have them? She had no
intention of using them.

All right, so she had them with her. You
just haven't been able to find the

burned-out match. Well, finding a
matchstick is rather like finding a

needle in a haystack, isn't it? I would
certainly think so.

Well, the point is, Mr. Anderson, that
we are trained to find needles in

haystacks, and we usually do.

But all that traffic down there, the
doctor, you and your men, even myself,

one of us might have...

kicked the match aside, picked it up on
the sole of our shoe, carried it out?

My men are very thorough, Mr. Anderson.

I'm afraid there was no burned-out
match.

Are you trying to say that I put those
matches there so that you'd think that

she had them with her? I'm not trying to
say anything of the sort. That I put a

burned-out light bulb in the cellar so
that it would seem that she had to use

them? Mr. Anderson, you're getting on...
That she didn't fall down those steps

but was pushed?

Mr. Are you accusing me of murder,
Sergeant Kress?

I never spoke of murder.

You did.

I'll let you know later, Pat.

Charlie. Hi, Andy.

I used whisker off this morning instead
of shaving.

It's a miracle. I never saw anything
like it.

I've got to come up with a sensational
packaging device.

I'm sorry. I didn't come up with the
right thing to please the old man.

No, it's not your fault, Charlie.

You were overloaded with me gone.

Good morning, Mr. Anderson, Mr. Lessing.
Good morning. That's right.

Anything? Yes, Mr. Gordon calling.

He wants to know why the new model for
kitty modes isn't in his hands yet.

I'll call him in a few minutes.

Sweetheart, I love you so much I can't
bear not seeing you.

Andy leaves for Chicago next week, and
we can be together again.

Until then, my darling, always your Val.

Yes, sir.

Miss Wright, where is the envelope that
this letter came in?

I don't know, sir. I don't recall
opening that letter at all.

I'll be glad to look on my desk if you
want me to.

Oh, never mind. That'll be all.

Mr. Anderson?

I'm sorry, I should have knocked.

I have a list of projections for the
Wisteroff container.

If you'd look at them... Would you mind
leaving them? I'm rather busy at the

moment.

Well, if I could explain them to you...
Just give me a chance to do a couple of

things and then I'll look at them.

Of course.

Thank you very much, sir.

Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you to
death.

I was a million miles away.

Well, if you're worried about Mr.
Gordon, I've got the new sketches for

Kitty Modes right here.

I stayed up until two o'clock last night
to finish them.

Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate
that.

Well, for you, sir, it was a pleasure.

Molly, I can trust you.

I think you know that.

Have lunch with me, please.

Well, I wonder if I should trust you.

Please do. It's very important.

I promised Mr. Wyvern I'd work through
lunch to catch up.

Dinner, then?

Will you have dinner, please?

I shouldn't sound so available, but...
I'd be delighted.

Thanks, Marley.

I can't believe it. You don't mean what
you're saying.

Well, I do mean it.

My wife had a lover.

This letter's in her handwriting.

Why would anybody want to send that to
you now?

Well, her boyfriend suspects that I
found out about him.

Murdered Valerie because I was jealous.

Oh, Andy.

He's trying to pin this on me, shake me
up, make me admit it.

My death calendar, February 4th, the day
she died.

That could have been a coincidence, just
an oversight on the part of Miss Wright.

That letter to the police, that made...

The sergeant suspect me?

That could have been with my son, Crank.

Andy, you're still upset over Valerie's
death, and you're just imagining all

sorts of things.

Who'd do a thing like this to me?

It has to be somebody in the Vincent
Company.

Somebody in the office put that letter
in my mail.

Andy, I can't explain that letter, but
it doesn't imply all the things you're

inventing.

Someone may want to hurt you, but...
Charlie Lessing.

The old man racked him up about that
whisker-off container.

Handed the job to me.

Charlie must loathe me.

Charlie doesn't resent you, and he
hardly knew Valerie.

You're not making any sense.

Molly, I'm not the most stable person in
the world. I had an emotional breakdown

during the war. Battle fatigue.

I'm vulnerable and under pressure.

I admit that.

But I'm not imagining this.

Not since this morning. Not since that
letter.

Somebody's out to get me.

Why, Andy? Who?

It's got to be somebody at the office.

Reverton, Charlie Lessing, Wyvern, maybe
Vincent.

They all knew Valerie at office parties,
dinner at our home.

Andy, I think we should find some place
more private. People from the office

drop in here.

Oh, I'm embarrassing you.

All right.

We'll find a place more private.

My house.

Hello, Mr. Anderson.

That's Granville.

Yes, I know. I saw him. Let's go.

Vincent's hired him to spy on me.

Andy, will you please stop imagining?

The man stopped in for a drink. Now,
let's go.

Please don't leave me, Molly.

You're the only one I can talk to. The
only one I can trust.

Look at this room.

That furniture.

Those lamps.

Pictures.

Listen to this.

That was her favorite piece of music.

No class.

No taste.

A dull, drab, cold woman.

That's all she was.

No taste, no refinement.

Whatever made me think she was so
wonderful that first time I met her at

the cocktail party.

Cheap little... I should have pushed her
down those steps a long time ago.

Andy.

Oh, oh.

I didn't mean that I did push her.

I swear I didn't, Molly.

I didn't.

What I meant is I should have... I
should have married a girl like you.

Andy, you've had too many martinis.

I should have met you at that cocktail
party.

You're a lovely girl.

Kind, understanding.

Oh, Andy, I wish you had met me instead.

But this is not the time to talk about
it. You're a little drunk, you know.

You're not thinking very clearly.

I was thinking very clearly. First time
in my life.

That cheap little... running around with
some man.

You've no proof of it.

Dear, can't you let it alone?

Oh, you helped me, Molly.

Lovely girl. Sweet understanding.

I think we've both had too many
martinis.

Come on.

Let's get you up to bed, huh?

We'll talk about it another day.

Oh, Marlene.

Marlene. Oh, I'm sorry, Marlene. I'm
sorry. I thought you... I thought you

were... That

concludes the first half of

our show.

But rather than have you go out for an
intermission, television brings the

intermission to you.

I shall be here at its conclusion.

Good evening and welcome back to the
show.

In case you are wondering why I took no
intermission, frankly, I'm stuck in

here. I shall attempt to wriggle out
during the second half of our story.

It will begin when the following
commercial ends.

Mr. Vincent wants you to join him for
lunch, and a special delivery just

arrived.

Eat something, Andy.

I'm not hungry.

How are you coming with a new container
for Whisker Off? Have you tried it yet?

Yeah, I tried it. It stings a little.
Well, not exactly stings. It smarts.

I used it this morning. Or was it
yesterday morning?

Andy, I'm worried about you.

Been so touchy since you got back.

I lost my wife, you know. Oh, yes, I
know.

But it's no good to brood.

Your work's up for you.

Look, Andy.

It's a terrible thing that happened to
Val, but... Val?

What? You called her Val.

Well, I don't see what... That's how she
signed that letter.

What letter?

Look, Andy, I don't know what's going
on, but... You could have put that

letter in my mail.

The matches, too.

What on earth are you talking about?

You could have been Valerie's lover.

Andy, I think maybe you came back to
work much too soon.

I'm sorry, sir.

I'm very sorry.

Oh, Molly.

Molly, I've got to talk to you.

Andy, I'm on my way up. Please.

Let's go into my office.

sorry about last night, but I wanted you
to know that... Andy, please don't worry

about it.

Please, I understand.

I've already forgotten about what
happened last night.

But I haven't forgotten what you said.

I meant it, Molly, every word of it. I
should have married a girl like you.

Oh, Andy.

Molly, you couldn't...

Dictation, please.

Come in.

Yes, sir.

Letter to Mr. Gordon. Kitty Modes. You
know the address.

Dear Mr. Gordon, you're absolutely
right. The sketches are no good.

I've told our illustration department to
work on new ones.

We regret the delay, appreciate your
patience, sincerely, and so on. Got

that? Yes, sir.

In our office, memorable to Wyvern,
illustration department.

Kitty Modes tossed our sketches back at
us.

Their criticism on this occasion, as on
others, is incompetent, irrelevant, and

immaterial.

But we have to humor them.

Of all our pestilential clients, Kitty
Modes is the worst.

They demand ten times as much as any
other client.

But make them up some sketches to please
their childish hearts.

Shoot that down to Wyvern immediately.

Yes, sir.

No cold now, please.

I have the same thing, bartender.

Drinking on the job?

Come to gloat?

Gloat?

You mean about your kissing, Molly?

That is entirely your affair, old man,
in a manner of speaking.

Although I would keep it under wraps for
a while if I were you.

I mean, period of mourning, that sort of
thing.

Which means?

Nothing, Andy, nothing.

I didn't come here to row, but to warn.

I was closeted with dear old Vincent
just before, and frankly, chum, at the

moment, your position is a little bit
shaky.

You're all converging on me, aren't you?

You may not believe this, Andy, and you
probably won't, but in my own fumbling

and apt fashion, I'm trying to help you.

Help me. Help me right out in the street
so you can get my job.

Andy, come on.

I just spent a half an hour defending
you to the old man.

Don't make me feel I made a mistake.

We all know what you've gone through.

Valerie died a miserable sudden death.

Sudden death?

Now what?

What do you mean, sudden death?

I don't get you.

You mean foul play?

What? They both go together, don't they?

Sudden death, foul play?

Andy, what in the name of... Dante!

Wait a minute, I just thought of
something.

What?

No one else had easier access to this
office.

So what does that mean? No one else hung
around him or at parties.

Hung around?

Are you talking about Valerie? Yes,
I'm... I said no more

calls. This is Mr. Vincent's office.

Mr. Vincent would like to see you before
you leave.

Oh, all right.

Here are your letters.

Oh, Mr. Anderson, I have some ideas for
the Whiskeroff container. Could I talk

to you? Not now. Not now. Later.

Bad, isn't it?

The bedroom's the same way.

Pillows, mattress, terrible mess.

Pretty neat job of entry, though. They
managed to lock on the front door there.

You look kind of pale.

Let me get you a drink.

How long have you been here?

Just a little while.

How do I know you didn't do this?

There you go.

Gilbert and Sullivan were right, I'm
afraid. A policeman's lock is not a

happy one.

Actually, the mailman discovered your
door standing open, so I came over and

found the house in this condition.

Waited till you got here. What happens?
You come in, you accuse me of all this.

Here is your drink.

No?

What are you supposed to have done for
her? Search for evidence, maybe?

Whoever broke in wasn't searching for
evidence, because there isn't any

evidence to find.

Whoever broke in was trying to destroy
me.

They must have had a pretty good reason
to suspect you.

And you?

I? Yes, you.

Either make a formal charge of murder
against me or get out.

You're talking about murder again. Do
you hear me?

Mika.

Good night.

Oh, Mr. Anderson, I hope you don't mind.
I borrowed this book.

Good morning, mister.

Anything? No.

What ever happened to your face?

Vincent wants to see you right away.

That calendar, where'd it come from?

How would I know?

Maybe it's a gift from our faithful
secretary.

Or Molly O'Rourke. Look at the date.

Little things amuse little girls.

You think it's a joke?

Of course.

31st of February, sort of a super leap
year. Get it?

Yes? I want you in here, now.

Yes, sir.

Is something wrong, Mr. Vincent?

I'm going to read you a letter, Andy.

A memo, actually.

Kitty Modes tossed these sketches back
to us. Their criticism on this occasion,

as on others, is incompetent,
irrelevant, and immaterial, but we'll

have to humor them.

Of all our pestilential clients, Kitty
Modes is the worst.

I don't understand.

Then allow me to enlighten you, Andy.

That memo was received this morning by
Mr. Gordon.

who has quite understandably brought it
to me.

I've never been so insulted in all my
life.

Of all the unethical... But I didn't
send that memo to... Does it really

matter, Andy?

The letter and the memo were
unfortunately put in the wrong

envelopes. I repeat, does it really
matter?

The point is one of attitude.

Your attitude.

I take full responsibility for that
mistake, Mr. Gordon.

And I do beg your pardon.

You see, that memo was the product of an
extreme emotional tension that I've been

undergoing. I lost my wife, Mr. Gordon,
this month. You probably heard about it.

She fell down a flight of steps and
broke her neck.

You must understand, I haven't been
myself.

And it's not just me. You see, somebody
has been trying to break me down by...

You must understand.

I'm sorry.

But it's quite out of my hands now, Mr.
Anderson.

What?

Kitty Modes is taking their account to
another company. Oh, wait a second.

Surely if I apologize... It's too late
for apologies, Andy.

Oh, but wait a minute. Certainly this
can all be straightened out.

Kitty Modes has been our client for 13
years.

Certainly this error on my part isn't
going to end this long, established

relationship. It was not we who ended
that relationship, Mr. Anderson.

Oh, please.

Andy, I'm giving you a leave of absence.

Half pay.

Take whatever time you need to pull
yourself together.

Travel, rest, do what you like.

But I don't want a leave of absence.

I'm not asking what you want, Andy.

Oh, I see.

Nineteen years of loyal service and now
the ash can. Is that it?

Andy, I'm not firing you. On the
contrary.

It is because of your good work in the
past that I'm seeing to it that you

rest.

Recover from this period of upset.

Why, in three or four months you'll be
fine. Three or four months?

Well, I feel you need at least that much
time. You feel? How about the way I

feel? Andy, it is because of my
consideration of your feelings that we

are having this conversation.

No, no.

Work is what I need.

I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Vincent. I've
made a mistake. I've made lots of

mistakes. I accused you of being
Valerie's lover. That's ridiculous, of

course.

But I must go on working. I have a job
to do. I can't leave everything in

Lessing's hands.

He's perfectly capable.

Oh, yes, he's capable. He's capable of
having me thrown right out of the

agency. Are you blaming Charlie now for
what's happened?

Don't you understand? It was Charlie, my
good friend Charlie, who's been trying

to drive me out of my mind. He's the one
who's been changing the calendar,

sending me letters, trying to intimidate
me. Oh, Andy, for... Mr.

Vincent, Charlie Lessing was my wife's
lover.

Oh, I've had enough of this.

I don't need your job.

I don't need your miserable half-pay
leave of absence.

I don't need you and I'll find out who's
responsible for these things.

Andy, you, you aren't well.

You don't even look well.

What's the matter with your face?

Oh, that's a little joke on you, Mr.
Vincent.

Go ahead, use whisker off. Give up
shaving.

Your face will be so tender you won't be
able to touch it.

What? No matter what kind of a container
you stuff it in.

Oh, you're dead.

You're dead.

Yes,

she's dead, Anderson.

And you can't murder her twice.

Now, would you like to tell us exactly
how you did it?

What are you trying to prove?

Look what we've already done to an
innocent man.

You're as squeamish as the commissioner.

He asked me to resign, you know.

Yes, I heard about it when I reported
back to headquarters this morning. My

handling of the case wasn't approved.

Unorthodox methods, he said. That's a
polite description for breaking into a

suspect's house and scaring him after
death.

Just when did you adopt this holy of the
bow attitude? I don't seem to recall any

objections from you during the
investigation.

Investigation?

Persecution, you mean.

Altering his calendar.

Sending him forged letters ransacking
his apartment.

Oh, yes, I did what I was told. I
carried out your orders.

But tell me, just what have we
accomplished outside of terrifying him?

Even the commissioner didn't deny that
my methods worked. He just didn't

approve of them, that's all.

But I don't believe Anderson is guilty.

Well, I'm going to prove you're wrong.

You think you'll get a signed confession
from him? I know I will.

You can see the patient now, gentlemen.

Well, I don't want to see him. Suit
yourself, boy.

We will find a change in him, Sergeant.

For some reason, he has a fear of
shaving.

Please, come.

He's writing something.

That could be important.

Oh, is it?

Mr. Anderson?

There's somebody here to see you.

I don't know him.

Are you sure?

Why don't you look at him, Mr. Anderson?

I don't need to look at him.

You're writing something, huh?

To her?

May I see it?

Perfectly all right, Mr. Anderson.

Let him see it.

Mr. Anderson's wife comes to torment
him, and he...

Hopes to stop her with these writings.

Is that what he told you?

She came last night.

She knew the date, of course.

Date?

The 31st of February.

She always comes in.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Congratulations. What does that mean?

You know his background as well as I do.
You know he's been headed for the edge

for years.

And all it took to finish him was just a
little push, wasn't it, Chris?

Look, he put a burnt-out bulb in the
cellar, then he pushed his wife down the

stairs and he broke her neck. Now, what
more do you require, boy? A blueprint?

No.

What the district attorney requires,
evidence.

The only way that matchbook could have
got by the body was if Anderson put it

there himself after he killed her.

That isn't evidence.

Well, he's guilty.

You want a match?

I thought I had one.

There's a book of them by your feet.

I just have a hole in my pocket.

As a matter of fact, I do.

A hole in your pocket?

Yes, a hole in my pocket. So?

What if Anderson had a hole in his
pocket the night his wife died?

What if he had a book of matches in that
pocket and they fell out onto the cellar

floor?

Must make you very happy to realize what
you've done, Sergeant.

Several stagehands are attempting to
pull me out of here.

If they succeed by next week, I shall
bring you another story.

Scenes from our next production will be
shown immediately after this commercial.