All language subtitles for Home.At.Seven.1952.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC

Janet?

Jan?

Oh, David, darling, David.

Janet!

What on earth is the matter?

What's happened?

Oh, darling, it's been
terrible, I thought I'd go mad.

What is it, Janet, aren't you well?

Oh, for heaven's sake, please, what is it?

What happened to you?

Where have you been?

Where have I been?

To the office, of course.

Where do you think I've been?

Yes, but last night and all today.

Oh, Janet, darling.

I never saw you like this before.

If you didn't feel well, why
didn't you ring me at the bank?

You only had to phone, I'd
have come straight home.

I've been in torment all
day and all last night.

I thought I was going mad.

All last night?

What do you mean, dear, all last night?

When you didn't come home.

Oh, Janet, dear, look
at the clock up there.

Look, it's just gone seven.

I'm always home at seven every evening.

There's nothing for you
to be anxious about.

It's just been an ordinary day, dear,

just like any other Monday.

Today's Tuesday.

Monday, darling.

It's Tuesday, David.

You're tired, you've got confused.

I do know which day of the week it is.

Yesterday was Sunday.

Don't you remember, we
worked in the garden,

you pruned the rose trees, I cut the lawn?

Ah, I'm just going to make
you a nice cup of tea.

Do you know, you probably
had an afternoon nap

and dreamt that I didn't
come home, but I did.

Everything's all right.

David!

Just a moment.

The evening paper you brought in.

Look, Tuesday.

Well, that's extraordinary.

And you'd better look
at this morning's paper.

This morning's paper isn't here

'cause I took it with me to the office.

Now you know I always
take it with me, Janet.

You didn't take the morning paper

because you weren't here to take it.

Tuesday, the 27th, you see?

We've always understood
one another, David,

and if you suddenly felt
you wanted to go off

and be on your own for a while,

well, it's perfectly all right,
I should have understood.

But why couldn't you telephone

and tell me you weren't coming home?

No, something I don't
understand has happened, Janet.

You must give me time to think,

'cause I'm sure there's some
quite simple explanation

that'll come in a minute.

Anyone at the bank can tell
you I've been there all day.

You've not been at the bank all day.

I rang the manager.

I was getting supper ready
at seven o'clock last night,

like I always do.

When you didn't come in,
well, I thought you'd missed

the train at Cannon Street

or the train was late for some reason.

But then eight o'clock came
and I was terribly worried

because you always telephone
if you're going to be late.

I thought you'd had an accident.

By nine o'clock, I was
so dreadfully anxious,

I rang up the police.

You rang up the police?

Well, what did you expect me to do?

Did you expect me to lock up the house

and go to bed as if nothing had happened?

The sergeant on duty said
he'd inquire at the hospitals

and see if anyone had been brought in.

I sat up here all night
waiting and listening,

and then when the bank was
open, I rang the manager.

He said you hadn't come in this morning,

but that you'd left last night
as usual at five o'clock.

You told me you left at six, David.

You said you always leave at six.

Uh, that's right,
Janet, so I do, at six.

Well, I asked him again
because it surprised me,

and he repeated it, he said
you always leave at five.

Why, he must have made a
mistake or you misunderstood him.

He always leaves at five,

speaking of himself when he said that.

Oh, well, about 12, he rang up again

and said you still hadn't come in.

Since then, I've just been
sitting here for hours and hours

and thought I was going mad.

Then you walk in, David,
as if nothing had happened

and then say I dreamt it all.

No, all I can tell you is,

unless I've taken leave of my senses,

I've been at the bank all day

and done the usual work
I always do on Monday.

Oh, look at my clothes.

Do I look as I've been wandering
about all Monday night?

But where could I have
washed and shaved, eh?

Do I look any different from
what I look every evening

when I come in from the office?

Coming up the road just now,

I was thinking of the
ordinary everyday things

I think about on my way home,

the tulips to put in round
the house next Sunday,

the accounts of the social club

to get ready for the
general meeting next month,

our evening at the pictures on Wednesday.

You know, you were angry when I say

you must have had a nap and dreamt it,

but what else can I think?

These papers, I don't understand,

but there must be some explanation,

some quite simple explanation.

Hello?

Oh, yes, Mr. Cooper.

Yes, he's just come in.

No, no, he's quite all right.

I don't know, I'll tell him.

He says you've not been
at the bank all day.

He'd like to speak to you.

Hello, good evening, Mr. Cooper, sir.

Yes, I'm quite all right.

I don't know.

I'm afraid there isn't
anything I can tell you now.

I'll be at the bank early,
at a quarter to nine,

and I'll come and see you in your office.

Yes, yes, goodnight, sir.

Look, there's Dr. Sparling
calling on the Prestons.

I noticed he wasn't on
the train this morning.

I wonder if anything's wrong.

Oh, my husband's upstairs
lying down, Doctor.

I'll take you up to him.

Thank you, you
definitely think he's ill?

I don't know, I don't know any more

than I told you on the phone.

He came in looking
quite well and cheerful.

He was perfectly all right until
I showed him the newspaper,

and then he refused to believe it.

Then the bank manager rang up.

He believed it then?

What else could he do?

Yes, but he couldn't
hope to walk in like that

and make you believe
that nothing had happened

unless he honestly believed it.

I don't know, he's such
an honest man, Doctor.

I don't think he's ever
told a lie in his life.

I think he was absolutely
genuine when he seemed surprised.

And yet I had a feeling he
was concealing something.

- Oh?
- It's a small thing,

but he said he left his office
last night at six o'clock,

that he always leaves at six,

but the bank manager on the phone

said he leaves at five
regularly every night.

Yes, well, that hardly explains

him being away for 24 hours.

Did you ask him about it?

Oh, yes, he said it was a mistake.

He was so certain I must believe him.

Oh, of course.

Well, you don't know
us very well, Doctor,

but I think you ought to know

that we're absolutely happy together.

I'm sure of that.

Well, that's what made it hard,

but I did try to make him realise

that I would understand perfectly

if he just wanted to go off
and be on his own for a while.

What did he say to that?

Oh, he swore there was nothing,

there was absolutely nothing.

Then I think you should accept that.

Yes, I do, because I am certain

he always has told me the truth

in all the years we've been together.

Well, if you'll tell him I'm here.

- David?
- Mm-hmm?

- Dr. Sparling's here.
- Oh.

Ah, good evening.

Good evening, Doctor.

Well, it's quite a long
time since we last met.

Do you remember?

The social club dance.

Yes, at Christmas, we had
quite a good crowd that evening.

It must keep you pretty busy,

being treasurer of a big club like that.

Oh, it does, it takes a
good deal of time, I enjoy it.

How many members have you got?

- Over 300 this year.
- Oh, it's a big thing.

Yes, it is, I helped
to start it 10 years ago.

We began with 15 members.

We've gone ahead fast the past few years.

Well, you're looking very well.

Well, I feel well, perfectly well.

My wife told you on the
phone what happened?

Yes, she told me
everything you told her.

It's all so queer,
Doctor, like a nightmare.

Yes, now look, I don't want you

to take this in the wrong way,

but you do realise that
anything you say to me

is in the strictest confidence.

I mean, if there's anything you don’t want.

Mrs. Preston to know?

Oh, I can assure you
definitely of that, Doctor.

I can tell you no more
than I told my wife.

I told her everything I know.

From the moment I left
home yesterday morning

till the moment I arrived
back here this evening,

I was absolutely convinced

I'd spent an ordinary day at the bank.

Then there's only one thing
that could have happened.

You must have had a lapse of memory

that apparently lasted a full 24 hours.

A lapse of memory.

But where could I have been for 24 hours?

Well, that's what we've
got to try and find out.

You've been quite well recently?

I mean, no headaches or
accountable restlessness

or sleeplessness?

No, I don't think so.

Nothing seriously worrying you?

Nothing to account for all this.

Was there anything unusual

in your journey to London yesterday?

No, arrived at the station a few minutes

before the train came in, met
Major Watson on the platform,

the president of our social club.

We travelled up together
and talked of club affairs,

the new tennis courts we're laying down,

the general meeting next month.

I remember it all perfectly.

Nothing happened at the bank
because the manager rang up,

told my wife I'd been there all day.

And you, uh,

and you left the bank at your usual time?

Yes.

Yes.

You did say anything I told
you would be in confidence?

Oh, absolutely, I give
you my word on that.

Well, there is one little thing.

It's a harmless trivial little thing.

It couldn't possibly have
anything to do with all this.

But, um, you...

You understand my wife and I
are perfectly happy together.

Oh, yes, of course.

Everyone has little things
they like and dislike.

Well, my wife doesn't
like alcoholic drinks.

I mean, she's not intolerant.

She's not a temperance
fanatic or anything like that,

but I respect her wishes in that,

and I don't have them in the house.

Anyway, I drink very little,

but like a good many other men,

I enjoy a glass of sherry in the evening

- when I finish my day's work.
- So do I, why not?

Well, it's been a habit
of mine for some while

to call in at a little place
and have a glass of sherry

on my way to the station every evening.

It was just after the war,
we were short of staff.

I was working every evening until seven.

Well, at six o'clock I'd
go out, have my drink,

then go back and finish my work.

It's a little pub in a
side street near the bank

kept by a brother and two
sisters, very nice people.

Joe's about 40, I suppose,
Ellen about the same age.

Well, the younger sister,
she's much the younger,

under 30 I imagine.

I know what you're thinking, Doctor.

Oh, not at all, why should I?

It was perfectly harmless.

She's full of fun and I like her.

We'd sit there passing the time of day

having a joke or so while
I was drinking my sherry.

Well, when this late work finished,

I was free to leave the bank
at the usual hour, five.

I was rather disappointed to think

this pleasant half hour would have to end.

They don't open till six, of course.

I could scarcely hang
about for an hour waiting.

Oh, so you went round to the side door.

Yes, I used to do that in a place

in Winchester during the war.

Yes, well, they live over the premises.

Well, it was rather foolish
of me not to tell my wife,

but you see I just let her think

I still worked at the bank until six,

and then walked straight to
the station for my train home.

Well, I don't think there's anything

very terrible in that.

I imagine a lot of other
city men do the same.

But why didn't you tell your wife?

I don't know really
why I didn't tell her.

I think it was mainly
because I didn't want her

to feel she was depriving me of anything

I could easily have at home.

See, she'd have insisted
on having the sherry in.

I didn't want it in.

I like having it where I do

- at that time of the evening.
- Naturally.

If I were to suddenly tell her now

that I've been doing this,

she might think it was somehow connected

- with what's happened.
- I'm sure it isn't.

You went there as usual last night?

Oh, yes, arrived just after five,

left in good time to catch my train.

Nothing unusual happened?

Nothing, I had my sherry,

and we all went into the saloon bar

and played a game of darts.

I remember six o'clock
striking from St. Paul's

as I said goodnight.

Well, it all
boils down to the next hour,

because normally you would
have been home at seven.

Can you remember how you were feeling

on the walk to the station?

Were there any incidents on the way?

I was feeling happy and
contented as I always do

walking to the station after my sherry.

You didn't
have more than usual to drink

that evening by any chance?

Oh, I'm certain of that.

Two's the limit, they never press me.

I'm very much a creature of habit, Doctor.

You know, one cup of tea for breakfast

and exactly one-half cup
more, things like that.

Hmm, and you arrived at Cannon Street

in good time for your train.

Yes.

Yes.

There's one curious little thing.

I don't think I'd even remember it

if I wasn't searching for something

round out of the ordinary.

I do remember a curious feeling

as I walked onto the station
and looked up at the big clock.

I can't exactly describe it,

a sort of vague,
uncertain kind of feeling.

I remember staring very hard at the clock,

so hard I can see it now quite distinctly.

The big white face, the
black hands pointing

to a quarter past six.

But I remember a dazed, uncertain feeling

as I went for my train.

I had to think before I could recollect

the number of the platform.

Do you remember the journey home?

Not absolutely.

I was wondering if you're finished?

Oh, yes, yes,
come in, Mrs. Preston, do.

- I'm not disturbing you?
- No, no, not at all.

Come in, Janet.

Well, I can promise you
one thing, Mrs. Preston,

your husband's quite well in himself.

A case of lost memory
is disturbing naturally,

but there's no need to be alarmed.

What were you doing during
the war, Mr. Preston?

Well, I was at the bank as usual.

I was an air raid warden down here.

Oh, well, you went
through some bad bombing?

Oh, yes, we were right in
fly Bomb Alley here, you know.

Can you remember any
especially bad experience?

Well, there was that one
in Elm Tree Road, David.

Oh, yes, had a pretty
narrow squeak that night.

A fly bomb came down
on a piece of wasteland

behind the houses.

I wasn't more than 100
yards off at the time,

so the blast was pretty bad.

I wasn't hit by the thing,

but I was deaf in this ear for some days.

Did you have medical attention?

I didn't think it necessary,

I felt all right bar the
deafness, and that soon wore off.

So you know, a shock of that kind

can play funny tricks sometimes.

Oh, thank you.

We've had a lot of it since the war.

If only I could
remember when it happened

and what I was doing all those hours.

We've accounted for
the whole of yesterday

until Mr. Preston arrived
at Cannon Street Station

on his way home.

Do you mean
that he lost his memory

at Cannon Street last night

and stayed there until this evening?

Well, it is possible.

Oh, but wouldn't
the station master

or somebody have done something?

You've no dim recollection
of anything like that?

None whatever.

I think that's possibly what happened.

Your memory began to go
wrong at Cannon Street

and you just wandered aimlessly away.

Yes, but where to for all
those hours the whole night?

Well, that's something
we don't know at present.

In the morning, after
a good night's sleep,

you may remember some little thing

that'll piece the rest together.

The main thing is, you're home,

fit and well, and no harm done.

Naturally, you feel disturbed and worried,

but I'll send you round something

to settle you down when you go to bed.

Oh, I never take things like that.

Oh, it'll be quite harmless,
just if you can't sleep.

And I'll look in at
about 10 in the morning.

Oh, but I must leave
for the bank before eight.

I promised the manager I'd be there early.

Now, look, I wouldn't go to the bank

tomorrow morning if I were you.

Have a quiet day, and don’t worry.

You know, Doctor, there's one thing

that's bothering me a bit
about the bank, Doctor.

You know, it's practically
certain I should be manager

of the Eastbourne Branch next year.

It's a good branch and a good appointment,

but it may affect things very much

if the directors hear about this.

You know, they're queer
people, those directors.

Supposing I said there
was some misunderstanding.

If I said I spent the night with friends

and my wife forgot or
I forgot to tell her.

Well, that's entirely up to you.

I'm only concerned if I'm
asked for the certificate.

Oh, but you won't be.

I'll ring the manager in
the morning and explain.

I'm sure you'll support me in that, Janet.

I'll do whatever you think right, David.

I can't tell you how
grateful I am to you

for the way you've helped me.

You know, a lot of
doctors would have talked

a lot of big words and
frightened me out of my life.

There's no need of that, I'm sure.

Still, if you'd like to see a specialist...

Good heavens, no.

Hello, Preston, I was
just coming over to see you.

Oh, good evening.

You know Major Watson, Doctor,

the president of our social club.

- How are you?
- Not too bad.

I met you at our
Christmas dance, didn't I?

That's right, I came as a guest.

Have you roped him into as a member?

No, not yet, but I think he ought to be.

Fine, you put him up,
Preston, and I'll second him.

It's the best club for miles around,

bridge, billiards, everything,

including a monthly brains trust.

We've just been running a
sweepstake on the Cambridgeshire.

We've collected over 500 pounds.

Oh, that's quite a lot of money.

Well, goodbye, Mr. Preston.

Goodbye, goodbye, Doctor.

Nice chap.

Yes, he's quite a good fellow.

I was thinking only the other day

we oughta rope in a few doctors.

We've got a couple of chemists,

but doctors give a club more class.

What's he here for?

Aren't you well?

Oh, nothing much,

just a touch of tummy trouble, that's all.

I wondered why you weren't
on the train this morning.

Have you been at home all day?

No, as a matter of fact, I
spent the night with friends.

Something I had for
supper disagreed with me.

I decided to spend the night with them.

I've only just got home.

You say you spent
the night with friends?

Yes.

You mean, you slept the night with them?

Well, I've just told you,

some old friends on the
other side of London.

I go there now and then.

I came to see you about
that sweepstake money.

You went to the club last night

and took it away, didn't you?

Robinson, the club steward,
said you were there

in the office at 10 o'clock.

You must have been pretty
late for that dinner

with those friends of yours
on the other side of London

if you didn't leave the
club until after 10.

You did go to the club and
take that money, didn't you?

I told you I spent
the night with friends.

You mean to tell me that you
didn't go to the club at all?

- No.
- Good Lord!

What did the club steward tell you?

Whatever he told me was a lie

and the fellow's a dirty,
rotten, low-down thief.

What did he tell you?

He came round to my house
last night to bring me the keys

because he's going away on his holidays.

He told me that he put out all his lights,

but just as he was leaving,
he saw a light in the office,

so he went in to put that out.

He found you there at the safe.

He saw that sweepstake money,

all those bundles of notes on a chair.

He said that you told him
you weren't altogether

too happy about leaving all
that money in that small safe

and were going to take of it
till you paid out the prizes.

Do you mean to tell me that that's a lie?

I've told you, I wasn't there.

The dirty, rotten thief,
had it all so smooth and pat.

I never doubted him.

He told me that you acted
oddly, lost your temper,

told him to get out and
mind his own business.

Well, knowing you never liked the fellow,

I didn't doubt that either.

You see why he did it?

In order to make me wonder about you

when we found the money had gone

and give him more time to get away.

And the scoundrel's had
a clear day's start.

Are you certain the money's gone?

Certain, of course, I'm certain,

515 pounds of club money, members' money,

and the draw tomorrow night.

We must get the police onto him at once.

Where's your phone?

Major Watson, don't do anything tonight.

Don't do anything tonight?

What do you mean?

There may be some mistake,
some misunderstanding.

How can there be a mistake?

The money's gone.

It may not have been stolen.

Well, it beats me.

You never liked the fellow
and you never trusted him,

and now he's done the dirty on
us, you try to cover him up.

Oh, I'm tired tonight, Major.

I've had a bad day, I'm not well.

Well, do you suppose
I'm well after all this?

What are we going to tell the
subcommittee tomorrow night?

Will you wait until the morning, Major?

Let's decide then.

And give him another
clear night to get away?

Oh, it's very serious to
accuse a man until we're certain.

I'm the club treasurer and
I feel myself responsible.

I don't understand you.

I thought you were a businessman.

I'll ring you first
thing in the morning.

I'll probably ring
you before you ring me.

It's terrible, David, isn't it?

Well, how did you know?

Why, Mr. Thompson just
called in, she told me.

But how did she know?

Why, I think it's all over the town.

What's all over the town?

Well, didn't Major
Watson come to tell you?

Do you mean to say he hadn't heard?

Well, they found Robinson,
the club steward, this evening

in that little wood by
the pond on the common.

He's been murdered.

Murdered.

Hello, is that the police station?

This is Major Watson,
president of the social club.

I wish to report the
robbery of 515 pounds.

What'd you say?

Robinson murdered?

All right, take him away.

Right away, driver!

How much have you roped off?

About 20 square yards, sir.

Well, I don't suppose
we'll find much tonight,

but we may as well have a look round.

I suppose these are the old dugouts,

- aren't they?
- Yes, sir.

Oh, and tell the photographer

I want those plates first
thing in the morning,

- will you?
- Yes, sir.

The lads have had a good look around, sir,

but they've found nothing yet.

The ground's covered with leaves.

Well, we'd better leave
this till the morning.

Oh, and tell the river
police to drag the pond,

- will you?
- Right, sir.

And see that you have
plenty of men on duty,

otherwise we'll be having
the whole neighbourhood

swarming in.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight, sir.

Park Road, please, Jones.

Good morning, Mrs. Preston?

Yes, that's right.

I'm Inspector Hemingway.

I rang up just now and had
a word with your husband.

Yes, that's right, will you come in?

Thanks.

- Um...
- Oh, thank you.

He's in here.

Good morning, Mr. Preston.

I'm Inspector Hemingway.

I spoke to you on the phone just now.

Yes, that's right.

- Will you sit down?
- Thank you.

Lovely show of those
Japanese chrysanthemums

you've got out there.

Yes, my wife goes in for those.

How do you get such fine colours?

I manage to
get a little good manure

from the riding school.

Oh, not much of the
good old stable stuff

- about these days.
- No, I'm afraid not.

You know, down my road,
the milkman still calls

with a horse and cart.

All the people with gardens
wait with pails and shovels

hoping for a bit of luck.

That's one way.

The trouble is horses are
so regular in their habits,

the same man gets it every morning.

Oh, it's a bit of a shock for you,

- this Robinson business.
- Yes.

You're the treasurer
of the club, aren't you?

Yes, that's right.

I suppose you knew him pretty well.

Well, only as the club steward.

He'd bring me the books,
I'd check them over,

put the money in the bank.

Were they always in order, no trouble?

None whatever.

He wasn't a good bookkeeper,

there were small mistakes in additions,

but nothing deliberate.

Did he do everything in the club?

Well, there's a woman
that does the cooking

and a little fellow that works
in the kitchen at weekends,

but he was at the
hospital during the week,

so Robinson was practically on his own.

What's the name of the cook?

Mrs. Pritchett.

And the other chap?

I can't remember.

Oh, well, I suppose I could
contact him at the hospital.

Oh, yes, of course.

Major Watson told me
rather a queer story.

I think he saw you last night.

Yes, he came in.

Well, from his account,
this fellow Robinson

had some idea of involving
you, Mr. Preston.

Yes, Major Watson told me.

Major Watson
says that you spent that night

with friends on the other side of London.

Now, it's only a matter of routine,

but if you'll just give
me the name and address

of the people you stayed with that night,

I can clear that up right away.

I, I spent the night
with an old friend of mine.

His name is Wainwright.

Wainwright, would you
give me his address, please?

17 Manor Road, Wembley.

Ah well, I won't keep
you now, Mr. Preston.

You'll be needed at the inquest

because the story which
Robinson told Major Watson

will come in as evidence,

but we'll let you know in good time.

It's rather bad luck on your club.

Were you insured against
this kind of robbery?

No, they won't insure money.

Well, let's hope we get it back for you.

I suppose you couldn't spare
a few of those chrysanthemums?

Why, yes, of course.

My wife loves a
bit of colour round the flat.

We haven't got a garden, worst luck.

I'll ask my wife to cut you some.

You will?

Oh, thanks very much.

Well, I'll drop by and pick
them up on my way home,

if I might, around about five o'clock.

I'll see they're ready for you.

Fine, well, we'll keep you informed.

- Goodbye, Mr. Preston.
- Goodbye.

Well, what did he say?

I'll tell you in a minute.

Who are you ringing up?

Janet, please, I can't
talk if you're here.

The inspector asked for
some chrysanthemums.

Could you go out and pick
them for him, please?

Well, then everything's all right?

Yes, yes, it's all right.

Hello, hello?

Is that Wembley 7294?

Yes, I wanna speak to
Mr. Wainwright, please.

What? When did he go away?

Last Saturday?

But I must get in touch
with him, it's very urgent.

Yes, but surely you know
what hotel he's staying at?

Ah, I see, I see.

No, no message, thank you.

Did he say what colours he likes?

- Colours.
- You said the inspector...

- What colours?
- Wanted some chrysanthemums.

It doesn't matter now.

But, David, dear, only
a moment ago you told me...

Just a few of each, it'll be all right.

Where are you going?

The doctor will be here in an hour.

No, I'll just go round to the surgery.

I think a little walk will do me good.

Why, Mr. Preston, come in, come in.

How are you this morning?

All right.

I was just
coming round to see you.

- You know what's happened?
- No, what?

It's in your paper there.

Oh, you mean that murder on
Monday, your club's steward.

Yes, it's quite close to where I live.

Well, have you been able to
piece things together at all?

No.

No small thought or
memory that might help us?

No, there's nothing.

Well, supposing we try

running through things
again quietly and slowly

and see whether perhaps...

Oh, why don't you just
say what's in your mind

and done with it?

Now I know exactly what you're thinking.

Every imaginative person who
suffers a lapse of memory

tries to fill in the gaps
with all kinds of things.

If you hadn't read about this affair,

you'd have found something else,

a burglary or something, and
let your mind prey on that.

You wouldn't be human if you didn't.

But it's absurd to connect this matter

with the club steward with yourself.

Why is it absurd?

Because a person who
suffers a lost memory

still retains his own
character, Mr. Preston.

If a criminal lunatic lost his memory,

he'd probably continue to
behave like a criminal lunatic.

But a normal honest man will continue

to behave normally and honestly.

Supposing a normal
honest man hated somebody?

Wouldn't he go on hating
that person subconsciously

after his memory had gone?

But you didn't hate this man Robinson.

- I did hate him.
- But why?

How can I explain?

From the very moment he came
up to the club committee,

I disliked him, I opposed his
appointment because of that.

I'm sure he found out that I opposed it.

Well, what made you do that?

How could I tell?

I never had bad feelings
of any man in my life

except for him.

I disliked his type, his big
fat body, pale flabby face.

Most of all, I disliked his
eyes, the way he looked at me.

I don't suppose I had any good grounds

for opposing his appointment.

But did he prove himself
to be the wrong man?

He did his work well enough.

The more I saw him,
the more I loathed him.

I used to look forward
to going to the club.

After he came, it was spoiled for me.

He had his eyes on me every
time he came into the room.

I felt something evil
and horrible about him.

I knew he'd glory in
hurting me if he could

and was waiting for a chance.

Gradually, I got the feeling somehow

he was fated to ruin and destroy me.

You see, that's why I told you

to stay at home today and rest.

Imagination can play cruel tricks.

You don't suppose I'm suddenly
imagining all this, do you?

For months now, I'd wake up in the night

fuming on what he'd done to
destroy my pleasure in the club,

wondering what I could
do to get rid of him.

But you've got to be sensible.

You never in your wildest
moment thought of murdering him?

Well, naturally, I didn't.

Well,
then, you're not very likely

to have murdered him on Monday night.

Do you know what
happened on Monday night?

A few hours before he
died, he told Major Watson

he saw me in the club
taking the sweepstake money.

But you can prove you
didn't do that either.

- How can I?
- By common sense and reason.

If a man were desperately
in need of money,

then it's possible he might
be drawn subconsciously

to a place where money could be found.

That is possible.

Yes, if he definitely had theft in mind

before his lapse of memory.

But if you're going to tell me

you've been calmly
planning robbery and murder

for the past few weeks,
then I don't believe you

and I never shall.

And what's more, I can't help you,

because you're making no
attempt to help yourself.

When you left me last night,

I thought I'd wake up this
morning with everything clear.

But when I heard about his
murder, I didn't dare sleep.

All night long, I never lost the sound

of the rain trickling outside

and the trains and the
traffic in the distance.

It began to come, in little bits at first,

as you said it would, queer
little disconnected things.

A chestnut tree, some thin strips of metal

tinkling like bells, a man's
feet rustling in dry leaves.

One half of my brain fought against it,

the other side went probing on.

Suddenly, I remembered!

I was on a common, I saw every detail.

The moon was shining,

the wind was rattling these
little strips of metal

the men hang around their
allotments to scare the birds.

I saw the pond where the children paddle

and sail their boats, the
long line of chestnut trees

with the dry leaves coming down,

and the two old dugouts under the mount.

I was walking along the
asphalt path beside the pond

in a desperate kind of fear.

This man Robinson was
following me in the dark,

creeping along like a fat Grey slug.

I went between the trees,

down the steps of one of the dugouts.

There was a pile of the
sandbags in one corner

and some squares of that
tarred roofing stuff.

I laid the money under a square

and I covered it over with sand.

All the while I could hear him out there

roaming about in the dead leaves.

I come up the steps and looked out.

I could just see him going into
the wood and I followed him.

When did you first
know he'd been murdered?

Last night when somebody
called on my wife.

Did this person tell your
wife how it was committed?

I didn't ask.

How did it happen when
it came back last night?

I followed him into the wood.

I tore my mind away from
it, it was too horrible!

You see, perfect autosuggestion.

Now doesn't that make you see reason?

You dreamt what you
were told by your wife.

Oh, I wish I could believe that.

You added to that dream

what Major Watson told
you about the money,

and you woke up when your information

about the details came to an end.

What makes you so certain I dreamt it?

Because it's the sort
of dream a man would have

after your experience.

You told me my
memory might come back.

You can't be so certain.

I can only weigh the two things together

and go for the one that's more probable.

If anyone were to ask me point blank

if I remember anything
of those last hours,

I mean, if anyone in authority
were to ask me on oath,

would it be honest to still
say I remember nothing?

In your place, I certainly would.

If you were sure, then
it might be different,

but you're not.

I'd give myself the benefit of the doubt.

The law does that in any case.

Whether it's honest, I don't know,

but that's what I'd do
if I were questioned.

- I have been questioned.
- When?

Just now, an inspector
came around to my house,

wanted to know where
I was on Monday night.

But you
didn't tell him all this?

No, I didn't.

Did you
mention this loss of memory?

No, I didn't do that.

You see, I told Major Watson

I spent that night with friends.

He told the police.

They wanted to know the name and address

of the people I stayed with.

I couldn’t very well go back
on what I told the Major.

I'm afraid I wasn't very honest.

It all happened so quickly,
I hadn't time to think.

Well, what did you say?

Well, I told him I spent
Monday night in Wembley

with a man named Wainwright.

He's my best and oldest friend.

He'd do anything for
me as I would for him.

I knew if I rang him up and told him

I'd told the police that I'd
spent the night with him,

he'd say that I did without question.

Did he agree to that?

The caretaker answered the telephone.

Wainwright went on a motoring
tour on Saturday morning.

He spent the weekend in the lake district.

He's somewhere in Scotland now.

I might have known something
like that would have happened.

I'm afraid it's rather serious.

I'm sorry to drag you into
a thing like this, Doctor.

You're a busy man.

You've got lots of
people you ought to see.

What do you think I ought to do?

If I go to the inspector,
what am I to tell him?

I wouldn't tell him
anything if I were you

- until I've had proper advice.
- In what way?

Well, I know the first
thing I'd do myself

would be to get a good solicitor.

I haven't got a solicitor.

Do you know of one?

I'm going
to take you around to mine,

Mr. Petherbridge.

It's a thousand pities
that you felt it necessary

to mislead the police with an
untrue statement, Mr. Preston.

Well, I was
just going to explain.

Do you realise that you are asking

this friend of yours to commit perjury?

So are you for me or against me

in this, Mr. Petherbridge?

I'm afraid Mr. Preston
has given the police

a tremendous advantage in
making a false statement

of his whereabouts on Monday night.

I think there's something
else in Mr. Preston's mind.

I told you that he had some
impressions last night,

and personally I think it was a dream.

You mean concerning this money?

Yes, well, surely it's easy
enough to find out about that,

simply by going to the dugout

and seeing whether the money's there.

I think that would be most unwise.

The police would have men on duty.

We should be inviting suspicion.

Yes, but it would
settle Mr. Preston's mind.

That's not the important issue.

A dream which turns out to be imaginary

is no proof of a man's innocence.

Material witnesses and definite clues

are the factors that really count.

Excuse me.

You won't find
the money there, you know.

We're not looking for it here, sir.

It's a man we're after.

He was in that office on Monday night.

Anyone would think
the money doesn't matter

from the way that you're going on.

Do you realise it's
the draw tomorrow night

and the race three days later?

Well, it won't affect
the race, will it, sir?

I mean, they'll still have that.

If we don't get that money back,

heaven knows what's going to happen.

Ah, Inspector, there you are.

Any news of that money?

No, I'm afraid not yet, Major.

Well, Sergeant?

Inspector, there's
something rather funny

I want to show you.

Do you see, this safe wasn't
opened with a key at all.

- It was broken open.
- Yes, I see it was.

Do you know last
night I could have sworn

that Robinson did this.

Did Robinson have a key to the safe?

No, but Preston did.

What are you trying to say, Major?

Excuse me.

Major Watson speaking.

Oh yes, Wembley Police
Station for you, Inspector.

Oh, thank you.

Inspector Hemingway here.

Yes, that's right.

Yes, oh, I see.

Right, thank you.

Well, I'm going round
to see Mr. Preston now.

What about?

Only some flowers he
promised to let me have.

Is there any personal property
that you can't account for?

Any small things that you had with you

before you lost your memory
that are missing now?

Yes, his gloves and a handkerchief.

I'm not certain
about the handkerchief.

You see, he always carries two,

one folded in his breast pocket

and the other one tucked in his sleeve.

Well, the one
in the pocket was there.

I'm not certain I had
the other, I think I did.

Can you describe the gloves?

Brown leather, almost new.

Had the handkerchief your name on it?

My initials, D.H.P.

He may have left them in the train.

Yes, we must hope that he did.

Well, Mr. Preston, I
suggest that we communicate

with the police at once and tell them

that you wish to correct
your previous statement.

You will then recount to them

every detail that actually happened,

but nothing at all about
what you may have recollected

or imagined since.

What will they do then?

I don't
know, depends on the extent

to which they accept
your husband's statement

that he did actually lose his memory.

Oh, but he did, we know that.

We have to prove it, Mrs. Preston.

We must engage the best
possible counsel to defend you.

What will that cost?

I mean,
a difficult case like this,

you will need an outstanding man.

If a person suspected of
stealing can show himself

to be in good circumstances,
in no urgent need of money,

then his position in the eyes
of a jury is far stronger.

But I don't quite see what you mean.

I mean that an important counsel

commands a larger fee than a lesser man.

If you can show yourself in
a position to meet that fee,

then automatically you show the jury

that you were unlikely to have
stolen out of urgent need.

But what will that cost?

I should say that 500 guineas

would provide for everything.

I'm sorry to
disturb you again, Mrs. Preston.

Is your husband in?

- Oh, yes, he's in here.
- Thank you.

Good morning, Inspector.

Good morning, Mr. Petherbridge.

Mr. Preston has asked me

to act for him.

Well, Mr. Preston, I expect
you know why I called again.

Yes.

Our Wembley station called
at Mr. Wainwright's house.

Yes, I know.

Mr. Wainwright went on
his holidays on Saturday.

Yes.

Well, if you knew that Mr.
Wainwright had gone away,

I'm wondering why you told
me you stayed with him.

I didn't know.

You mean you didn't know
when you told me this morning?

That is correct.

If you'll excuse me, Inspector,

I think it would be...

Oh that's quite all
right, Mr. Petherbridge.

Well, now, Mr. Preston,
I wonder if you'd mind

just walking around to
the station with me?

Now you know it's one of our routines

to take down a statement from everybody

and in any way concerned
in an affair of this kind.

It's just a formality.

I've taken a statement from
Major Watson this morning,

and I'll be taking quite a few more.

- I'll do anything you need.
- It won't take long.

- Shall I be coming back?
- Why, yes, of course.

Will it be all right if I come, too?

You wish to make a
statement, Mrs. Preston?

Oh, no, no, but I think my husband

would like me to be
there, wouldn't you, dear?

I mean, I'd like to wait for you.

No, I think I'd stay here,
Janet, there's no need.

I imagine you were wearing

what you might call a city suit on Monday.

Yes.

Well, do you mind if we
take that along with us?

And the shoes you were wearing?

It's just another bit of
routine they make us do.

If you need
them, I'll fetch them.

Oh, I'll come
along up and help pack them.

I think I'll go up, too.

No, Mr. Petherbridge,
if I tell you something,

will you promise not to say a
word about it to my husband?

Certainly.

I think it will help you to understand.

You see, for a long time now,

he's been terribly in need of money.

It's not his fault, it was his father.

It all began years ago.

His father travelled round
collecting money for his firm,

and then one day, he couldn't pay.

I think it was betting.

Well, David undertook to pay back

every penny his father had taken.

He borrowed some from friends,

and the rest he got from a moneylender.

Gradually, he paid back all his friends,

but the moneylender kept
adding expenses and things,

until now it's nearly double
what it was to begin with,

and he wrote a horrible letter

saying unless all the money was paid back,

he'd tell David's bank.

Well, now, I have a little
money of my own, an annuity.

I wanted to sell it there and
then, but David was furious.

I think it was the first
real quarrel we've ever had.

He said nothing would
make him use my money.

I see, if the police happen to ask

for any statement, Mrs. Preston,

I think you will be well-advised

to say nothing whatever about this.

Oh, yes, but you do see that
we must pay counsel's fees

without David knowing.

He could never hope to pay them himself.

He'd rather not be defended at all

if he knew it came from my money.

Yes, yes, I quite see that.

You can be sure that personally
I shall take no advantage

of your difficulties, Mrs. Preston.

Thank you.

Nice piece of material, isn't it?

- Yes.
- Pre-war, isn't it?

Yes.

You haven't cleaned
the suit since Monday?

No.

Oh, and now these
shoes you were wearing.

Oh, yes.

Stepped into some mud, didn't you?

Mud?

I don't remember.

No, it's all right,
thank you, Mr. Preston.

I'll never believe that
David did this terrible thing.

They haven't said so.

It's possible they never will.

But they think it.

If not, why does the inspector

want to take away his clothes?

They only do that to criminals.

It's horrible.

Something they always have to do.

Oh, we're going along now.

You've no objection to
my being with my client

when he makes his statement?

No, none at all, we'd prefer you to.

Well, we won't be long, Mrs. Preston.

Take this in to Sergeant Evans, will you?

Very good, sir.

This way please, Mr. Preston.

Sit down please, Mr. Petherbridge.

This is only an informal talk,

I don't intend to make any notes.

Now then, Mr. Preston, the caretaker

at Mr. Wainwright's house told our people

that somebody rang up for Mr. Wainwright

at about half past nine this morning.

Was that you?

Yes, I intended to ask Mr. Wainwright...

Oh, that's quite all right.

Only it occurred to me that
you might have given me

that information by mistake,

that you might have
stayed with Mr. Wainwright

some other time and got it mixed up

with a visit you paid to some
other friends on Monday night.

Now when I saw you this morning,

I explained that I only
wanted the information

to rule out the story which
Robinson told Major Watson.

Now I'm not asking for a
minute-by-minute account

of everything you did that night,

because a man can't very often do that

when he's suddenly asked.

For example, Monday afternoon,

I went for a walk in the park,

stopped and watched a football match,

but I couldn't tell
anybody what time I stopped

or how long I watched the football.

Do you see what I mean?

I just want a rough idea.

Well, I can't tell you
anything about my movements

on Monday night or anything about Tuesday

until I returned home in the evening,

because I had a lapse of memory.

I see.

Oh, hello, Doctor,
what are you doing here?

Waiting to see the inspector.

Oh, I want to see him, too.

The inspector's got the club books

and there's a meeting of
the subcommittee tonight.

Heaven knows what's going to happen.

Poor old Preston, I'd
never have believed it.

But then you know, when
you see their pictures

in the papers, it always is
that sort of fellow, isn't it?

Well, have you any little,
shall we say, gleams of memory?

Any little memories that
couldn't belong to other times?

No, I've tried to
think, there's nothing.

Well, did you have everything
with you when you got back?

Nothing missing.

Well, anything found?

Anything, say, like a bus
ticket or anything like that?

Anything that might show where
you went or what you did?

I've been through all my pockets

in the hope of finding
something and there was nothing.

Now about this safe, Mr. Preston,

do you happen to know how
many keys there are to it?

Oh, yes, there are three.

Major Watson has one, I have one,

there's one at the bank down here.

Now I imagine you keep
yours in a safe place?

I keep it with my other keys.

My office key, the key to the house,

this is the key to the safe.

Oh, that's all right.

Robinson, the steward,
didn't have one then?

Oh, no, no need for
him to go to the safe.

He has a till of his own.

You've got a key to the
club itself, I suppose.

Yes, with the others, here.

Do you sometimes go around there

after the steward has
closed up for the night?

Occasionally, I have
a small office there.

Sometimes I've walked around after supper.

And you've no recollection at all

of having been there on Monday night?

None whatever.

Do you think they'll swallow
this loss of memory idea?

Why not, it's true.

Hmm, but could a fellow
do all that sort of thing

when his memory is gone?

Well, it's possible,

but I don't believe he did.

What do they call it,
insane or something?

You're an old friend
of his, hmm, Watson?

Well, I've known him
for 10 years or more.

I roped him in when I
first started my club.

Then naturally you want to
do all you can to help him?

I wouldn't wanna make
things worse for him

any more than you do, but
I'm president of that club,

and I must get that money back.

Now, tell me another thing.

Supposing they let him off,

supposing they say that he's innocent,

would he be allowed to keep the money?

Why are you so convinced
he took the money?

Well, it's bound to come out,
so you may as well know it.

Preston was hard up.

He borrowed money all round the club.

I lent him 50 pounds myself.

But he paid you back.

Oh, yes, in time, but
I've never known a man

get clear out of debt
once he started borrowing.

Now, another thing, he
hated that club steward.

He was always bringing up
pity complaints about him

trying to get him the sack.

Now I'll tell you another thing, too.

That safe was not opened by
a key, it was broken open.

Well, if Preston had a key, why do that?

You don't need a Sherlock
Holmes to answer that one.

He broke it open because he
had a key and Robinson hadn't.

And furthermore, he knew that Robinson

was starting for his
holidays that night, see?

Well, I don't see anything

except a lot of chance things
that might happen to anyone.

Aha, but you didn’t see
his face when I told him

that Robinson had been round to see me.

He looked awful, and then
he trotted out that story

about spending the night with friends

on the other side of London.

Now look, a man with a
blank space in his memory

can say anything on
the spur of the moment.

When I told him I
was going to the police

about the robbery, he
practically went down

on his bended knees and begged me not to.

Would a fellow do that if
he didn't know something?

If Preston was at the safe
and Robinson caught him there,

why let Robinson come
round and tell you about it

before doing anything?

Ah, because he didn't know

that Robinson was coming round to see me.

I could tell that when
I told him that myself.

I thought he was going to faint.

Now, put yourself in
his place for a moment

and see what you would do.

You plan a robbery and try to
plant it onto somebody else,

but the very man that you've
planned to plant it on

catches you red-handed.

You tell him some story about

going to keep the money
yourself, and he goes off,

but you don't know whether
you've convinced him.

Then suddenly you remember

that you've broken open the safe yourself

in order to make it look as if he did it.

All right so far?

- Oh, yes, perfectly.
- Okay.

You're in a hell of a jam.

Now you know he's got to
go home and get his bag

and then catch the train to London.

You know where he lives,

you know the path he's going
to take across the common.

How was the murder done?

Knocked on the head
from behind, battered.

Yes, it does look bad for Preston.

But then if you tie a lot
of chance things together

and throw in a bit of imagination,

it might look just as bad,
even worse, for others.

- Oh, yes.
- Even for you.

For me, that's rich.

Well, why not?

Supposing you wanted money.

You knew where it was just
as well as Preston did,

and what proof have you got
that Robinson ever came round

to your house that night at all?

Was there a witness?

- My wife was there.
- In the room?

Oh, no, she was in bed, but
she'd have heard the bell.

Oh, well, that's easy.

I mean, you could have gone out

and rang the bell yourself if necessary.

You see, we've only got your word

that Robinson came round that
night and accused Mr. Preston.

Supposing you broke open the
safe because you have a key.

At first, perhaps, you mean it to appear

as though it was an outside burglary.

But Robinson catches you red-handed.

All right so far?

Far from it, I was at the
pictures on Monday night.

I only got back just
before Robinson called.

Well, yeah, but can you prove it?

Did you go with anyone?

No, my wife doesn't like the pictures.

I always go by myself.

You see, no proof you
were at the pictures,

no proof Robinson called.

You killed Robinson to keep him quiet.

Then you think of Preston.

You know it's common knowledge in the club

that he disliked Robinson.

You knew he borrowed money, good.

You go round to Preston's
house to see how things are,

and by the grace of the devil,

you discover this lapse of memory

that makes even Preston doubt himself.

It's wonderful, you're clear!

Leave Preston alone
and his own imagination

will do the rest.

Well, you've got quite a bit

of an imagination yourself.

But you make one big mistake.

In your over anxiety to set
the blame squarely on Preston,

you talk against him so much

that you make the police suspicious.

They inquire into your movements

and find you can't prove
a thing about that night.

I tell you, I was at the pictures.

When you tell the police
that old yarn, they laugh.

I mean, everybody trying
to prove a false alibi

says they were at the pictures.

There was one the other day.

- They're hanging him on Friday.
- Oh.

Of course, I know perfectly well

you didn't have anything to do with it.

I'm only trying to tell
you how easy it would be

for an innocent person to
bring suspicion on themselves

simply by trying to
incriminate another one.

- I never said I wanted to.
- I know, I know.

I was just speaking generally, that's all.

Hello, old chap, if there's
anything I can do for you,

- just let me know.
- Thanks.

Would you come in now, please, sir?

No, not you, Major Watson, Dr. Sparling.

Would you mind waiting a few minutes?

I understand you wanna
see the club's books.

I understand Mrs. Preston
called you in last night

to see her husband.

Yes, about half past seven,
just after he got home.

Now, this lost memory business,

can you tell me anything about it?

What makes it happen?

Well, in most cases, it's
usually due to mental strain.

I mean, if a man suppresses
it or keeps it to himself,

it keeps building up until
the strain is too great

for the brain to bear, and
then the mind shuts off

and stops working, or rather
like a generating station

when the load gets too heavy.

In a case like this,

have you any way of
telling if it's genuine?

Oh, you can, if you see the patient

when he's actually suffering from amnesia.

Well, if you don't
see him until it's over,

then you've only got his word for it.

Well, you've got your own
instinct and judgement.

I talked with Preston for quite a while

last night and again this morning,

and I'm certain that everything
he told me was the truth.

Did he tell you that he spent that night

with a friend in Wembley?

When a man tells you a
barefaced story like that,

it makes you wonder about the rest

of what he says, doesn't it?

Now you say that he saw
you again this morning.

Yes, he came round to my surgery.

And on account of
something he told you then,

you advised him to see a solicitor.

Well, it was because
of his untrue statement,

I thought he should see a solicitor.

But was that all he told you?

It's all right, Doctor, I
understand your position.

If you think that he made
any kind of confession,

I can tell you at once he didn't.

Did you know that he was
badly pressed for money?

Yes, I had been told
so by a friend of his.

And that he had a violent
dislike for this murdered man?

Now if he's as straightforward
as you think he is,

why should he sit there desperately

trying to conceal something from me?

Look, your business is mainly
with criminals, Inspector.

If you're dealing with an honest man...

It depends on what you call honest.

You know, we get quite a
lot of fellows like Preston,

decent, respectable
people who live quietly

and dig the garden and go
for a walk on a Sunday,

perfectly good straight chaps,

except for the one little thing
that brings them round here.

It doesn't make sense, does it?

- Tea's ready, dear.
- Good.

I thought you'd like some toast.

Yes, that's fine.

I've been sorting out a few
things this afternoon, Janet.

There's only the gas bill, the laundry,

and a small account from
Roger's for the tulips.

I've written checks for those.

Well, I'm certain it
won't be necessary, David.

Yes, yes, I know,

but I've always done these
little things myself.

I wouldn't like you to be troubled

or confused if you were alone.

I'm sure there's no need, dear.

If they were going to do anything,

they would have done it already

when they had you at the police station.

But the inspector was so
nice when he rang me up.

Yes, he's a nice man, I'm lucky.

He said to see you
rested when you got home

and not to worry.

He wouldn't have been as cruel

as to say a thing like that
if he'd meant anything.

Yes, he let
me go home all right,

but he put a policeman to watch the house.

You imagine things, David.

There's often a policeman
out there by the high street.

There's been one there all day,

standing under the lamppost.

You're just
tormenting yourself, dear.

You know, if you were alone, Janet,

I wouldn't like you to live by yourself.

I was thinking perhaps your
sister would care to come

or whether you'd go to her.

You see, your sister
would have her pension

and you'd have your annuity.

- Are you listening, Janet?
- Yes.

Well, it wouldn't be much,

but two women can always manage together.

You might even start up that
kindergarten school again

like you had with her in the old days.

Would you do that, Janet?

I'd do whatever you say,
dear, until you came back.

Well, I had a talk this morning

with the solicitor about that moneylender,

and there's nothing whatever
for you to worry about.

He'd have no power to
make any claim on you.

In fact, I don't think he
can claim anything anyway.

I've paid him a lot more than he lent me,

and Mr. Petherbridge
says a solicitor's letter

would settle it.

Now, I'm telling you this
because if he should write,

don't answer it.

Give the letter straight to
Mr. Petherbridge about all.

Don't dream of doing anything silly,

like trying to raise money on that annuity

and sending it to him.

- Now, you promise me that.
- Yes.

I've written to the bank.

I want you to post that
if they take me away.

I've explained everything

and I'm sure they'll do something for you,

after all the time I've been with them.

You mustn't talk like this, dear?

I can't bear it.

Yes, well, I couldn't bear it

if I had to go away without thinking

we'd arranged everything
possible between us.

It's so simple sitting here by ourselves.

Afterwards, I don't think
they'd let us be alone together.

But even if they did take you away,

they couldn't treat you like a criminal,

for Dr. Sparling said they
couldn't possibly do that.

We wouldn't be human to
blame you for something

that happened when you weren't yourself.

Oh, we've got to face
these things, dear.

Even if they believe me

when I say I wasn't myself that night,

they wouldn't let me go, they couldn't.

They have a place for people who do things

when they're not themselves,
and then we're not certain

they will believe I lost my memory at all.

But it's true, David.

- It is true, isn't it?
- Oh, I swear that, Janet.

Those things you thought you remembered,

you mustn't tell them that.

Well, if they ask me in the
court, I'm afraid I'd have to.

But Mr. Petherbridge said no.

He said not to in my statement
to the police, that's all.

But you see, these people
that cross-examine you,

they have a way of
tearing things out of you.

They go on until they do.

I couldn't bear that, Janet.

At least, I can keep my self-respect,

and if I can do that, I
don't mind what happens

as long as you promise
to carry on and be happy.

How could I be happy?

By believing in me, dear,

by trusting me when I tell you

I didn't do this deliberately.

It would mean so much to
me if you would do that.

Now, you start up that
little school again.

It'll give you an interest
and help you along.

In any case, you'll
always have your annuity.

No one can ever take that away from you.

You'll never have to be
dependent on anybody.

Well, I still think
it'll never happen, David,

that it's your imagination all the time.

I took a lot of trouble with this toast.

You always knew the way to make toast.

You haven't slept or
even rested properly

since you came home.

Go up and lie down and
try to get some sleep.

Yes, I think that's a good idea.

At seven, we'll have supper,

and then why not go to the pictures?

It's our night, isn't it?

Why so it is, it's
Wednesday, I'd forgotten.

They didn't say you had to stay in.

We'll say good evening to
that policeman on the corner.

You see, he'll say good evening back

and not take a bit of notice.

And you'll wonder why
you've been so silly.

Oh, I can't think why
you're so good to me.

It's you who are always good to me.

You will go and try and rest, won't you?

Yes, don't you worry.

I would like you just to have
a look at this account book.

Make sure you understand everything

and let me know if there's
anything you don't.

Now, it's quite simple really.

What we receive here
and the payments there.

Now, there's not much now, but
there'll be nearly 100 pounds

when my salary comes in next week.

And now you don't owe anything.

Nothing.

We'll save up and
go abroad again next summer.

Yes, we'll do that.

Draw the curtains and have a good sleep.

I've one or
two things to tidy up,

and then I will.

I'll come up and call
you when supper's ready,

then the pictures.

That'll be fine.

Oh, good evening.

- Does Mr. Preston live here?
- Yes.

- Are you Mrs. Preston?
- Yes.

Could I speak
to Mr. Preston, please?

He's resting and I
can't disturb him now.

But it's about this
trouble, this murder.

You'd better come in.

You see, I'm really quite an
old friend of Mr. Preston's,

and I thought I might be able to help him.

Why, I think I know most
of my husband's friends.

Well, I expect you do,

but I don't suppose Dave
ever told you about me.

- Dave?
- Well, Mr. Preston.

He always lets me call
him Dave, but I'm sorry.

Is he in trouble about this murder?

I mean, really in trouble?

Because if he is, I want to
help him and I think I can.

Then you'd better sit down.

- You live in a nice house.
- Yes.

You haven't told me your name.

It's Miss Dobson, Peggy Dobson.

I work with my brother and sister

at the Feathers, River Lane,
just off Queen Victoria Street

in the city, you know.

The Feathers?

It's a public house, our own place.

What is it you want to say?

Well, I came down as
soon as I could get away.

I only heard about this
trouble at lunchtime.

My husband's name
hasn't been in the papers.

How did you know he was in trouble?

Well, a young man who
lunches at our place

comes from down here, and he told us

how they'd had Mr. Preston
round to the police station.

Of course, we read about
this murder in the papers,

but even if they had mentioned him,

we might never have known
he was our Mr. Preston.

- Your Mr. Preston?
- I know, it's funny.

We've known him all these years,

and we never knew where he came from.

We only realised him
when this young man said,

"You know that fellow Preston
that comes in of an evening,"

"well, they're after him
for that Bromley murder."

And then I saw I'd got to come at once.

I thought things must be bad.

Yes, they are bad, but why did you come?

What's it about?

Well, everything, last Monday night.

You see, Mr. Preston's
been coming to our place,

oh, ever since the war.

He just drops in of an
evening on his way home.

Look, if you think
there's anything in this,

you're wrong because there isn't.

I'm not the sort that goes
after other people's husbands

and I never did.

I didn't suggest it, Miss Dobson.

No, but you're looking
it, anybody can see that.

It's no use my talking to you
if you aren't going to listen.

Why don't you call him
down and let me tell him?

No, my husband is very
tired and he's trying to rest.

Now if you've anything
to say, you can tell me.

The Feathers is respectable.

You can ask anybody.

All he ever had was a
sherry or a sandwich maybe.

Sometimes we'd sit round
chatting in our private room.

Your private room?

Because he came before
we opened, that's why.

Or sometimes we'd go into the saloon bar

and have a game of darts,

but he always left on the stroke of six

to catch his train to Cannon Street.

You say he's done this for a long time?

Oh, every evening regular.

Getting on for five years now.

Well, we thought he looked
especially tired on Monday night,

so I gave him a Bovril
sandwich with his sherry.

Then we went into the saloon
bar for a game of darts.

We were laughing and joking,

and then the strangest thing happened.

There's a little truck
that brings our sandwiches

from a place in Hornacy,
but it was just starting off

when he had a terrific backfire,

you know, like a gun going off.

We all jumped because it startled us.

Mr. Preston did, too.

He turned his head quickly,
and when he turned it back,

he looked different.

How do you
mean, he looked different?

He looked round as
if he didn't know where he was

and dropped the dart he had in
his hand, and then he said...

Everyone, down to the dugout.

What dugout?

I don't know, we never had a dugout.

We always used the cellar in the war.

But it made us see what had happened.

We knew he'd been an air raid warden,

and he suddenly thought
the war was still on.

Of course, we talked to him
and told him it was all right,

but he just kind of mumbled
and kept on shaking his head,

as if he didn't know what to do.

Why didn't you telephone and tell me?

But how could we?

We didn't know where he lived,

and there are crowds of
Prestons in the telephone book.

Then opening time came.

Well, of course, we couldn't have him

sitting in the bar looking like that,

so my brother Joe took him
up to the spare bedroom

and made him lie down,
hoping he'd get all right.

After a bit, he dozed off, but
it wasn't an ordinary sleep

because we couldn't wake him.

When the bar closed at 10, we
all went up, all three of us,

and sat about up there talking

and wondering what we oughta do.

You could have sent for a doctor.

Oh, we did think of that.

We even thought of sending for the police.

He didn't have anything to help us,

no identity card or letters or anything.

But he was sleeping so peacefully,

we thought we'd better leave him

and see how he felt when he woke up.

No, thank you.

Well, Joe and I looked
in twice during the night.

He was still sound asleep,
but he woke quite easily

when I took him his cup
of tea in the morning.

Still very odd though.

He still didn't know where he lived

or the place where he worked.

He didn't seem to care

or to want to think when we asked him.

He washed, shaved himself quite
naturally with Joe's razor,

but his mind was still
all mixed up with the war.

He kept on saying it was a
quiet day with no alarms.

Or then he'd say...
Listen, here's one coming!

Take cover!

He was thinking of
the fly bombs all the time.

We gave him some breakfast

and made him stay quietly in his room,

but Joe said if he wasn't
better by the afternoon,

we'd have to take him round
to the police station.

You knew that his bank was quite close.

Why didn't you tell them?

We didn't know.

Of course, we knew he worked in a bank,

but we didn't know where.

He didn't discuss those things,
and it wasn't our affair.

The doctor said it might
be something like this.

Oh, what did he do the whole day?

He just sat about up
there in that bedroom.

Soon after five, Joe
said the only thing to do

was to take him round
to the police station

and tell them what happened.

That was really the oddest part of all.

We went into the saloon
bar, we all had a sherry,

and then he began to change.

He looked puzzled and restless.

And then he sort of braced
himself up and said...

Well, aren't we going to
finish our game of darts?

Come on, what are we waiting for?

Well, of course, we didn't
quite know what to do at first,

but Joe thought it was
better not to say anything

in case it upset him again.

You know, it was kind of uncanny,

standing around, you know,

trying to make jokes and
ordinary conversation.

Bless me, time to go.

Goodnight, lad.

Well, of course, we hated the idea

of him going off like that alone.

But honestly, he looked
so ordinary and natural

when he took his hat
and umbrella off the peg

that we almost thought that
we were the funny ones.

Oh, hello, Dave!

Why did you come here?

Well, I heard
you were in trouble, Dave.

I should have told you, Janet.

Oh, never mind about that, dear.

Listen to what Miss Dobson has to say.

Well, I thought
I'd better find out

where you lived and come
down and try to help you.

How could you help me?

Miss Dobson says you spent
the whole of Monday night

at their hotel.

You stayed the whole
night at the Feathers, Dave.

When I tell them that, they
can't go after you anymore.

No, I left your house at six o'clock,

as St. Paul's was striking six.

Yes, but you didn't.

I mean, not on the same
day as you came in.

You didn't come out until
this murder was all over.

I came into your house just after five.

It was exactly five by the office clock

when I left the bank,

and I left your house as
the clock was striking.

The police know that.

The police never came near our place.

How can they know?

Well, because I told them

everything that happened
just as I remember.

Janet, I came down to tell you something.

Upstairs in the bedroom, I
suddenly remembered quite clearly

the people in the compartment

as the train left Cannon Street.

It was an old man with a
red flower in his buttonhole

and two girls, two girls reading books.

Dave, it doesn't
matter what you say or think.

Directly I've been to the police station,

your troubles are over.

Do the police know
that you've come here?

Not yet, they jolly soon will.

You know what would
happen if you went to them,

how serious it would be.

You're not a child, Peggy,
you realise the consequences?

Look, Dave, you don't understand

what's happened to you and
you're not trying to understand.

Oh, I am trying to understand, Peggy.

I'm trying to understand
why these terrible things

should happen to me.

What could make me think
I could save myself

by dragging in my best friend,
getting him to stand by me

and swearing I was in
his house that night?

The police would have found him out

and he'd have been arrested.

That's what would happen to
you if you went with this tale.

They'd call it perjury, you
could go to jail for it.

Now, I want you to go home, Peggy.

You're dealing in dangerous things,

more dangerous than you realise.

Now you promise me that you'll go home.

Peggy, you must go at once.

Take her out that way,
she can use the side door.

This man's from the police.

If he says anything to you, say anything,

but you know nothing about
this, you understand?

Stay here.

- Good evening, Mrs. Preston.
- Good evening.

- Is your husband home?
- Oh, yes, yes, he's upstairs.

But first, I want you to hear

what this young lady has to say.

Well, I expect you're Miss Dobson.

I heard you'd come down.

I've been having a talk
with your brother and sister

at the Feathers this afternoon.

Oh, you have, have you?

Well, Mrs. Preston, I'm sure
it must be a relief to you.

You know, we never really thought
your husband was involved,

but we have to check up on
these things, of course.

Inspector, I want to
make you understand,

ever since that terrible news last night,

my husband's thought
himself to be a criminal

waiting to be taken away and locked up

for the rest of his life.

Can't you realise what that's done to him?

Yes, I can, Mrs. Preston.

I only wish it could have been avoided.

He's always lived so quietly,

only wanted to do his work
and enjoy his evenings

and be happy with his friends.

A thing like this, well,
it's nearly driven him mad.

He wouldn't even listen to
what Miss Dobson had to say.

You've got to go up and convince him.

Well, that's what I
came to do, Mrs. Preston.

But as far as your husband's concerned,

there's no more to worry about.

It's perfectly all right.

Oh, so it's perfectly all right, is it?

You think you can walk in here smiling

and everything is all right.

Anybody would think you were talking

about a lost dog that's come home.

Don't you realise you made him ill,

when you knew he hadn't done it?

Why couldn't you phone up from
the Feathers and tell him so?

No, not you, you come sailing
in, in your own good time

and let him wait, let him suffer.

What do his feelings matter?

All you fellows are good for
is hanging around our place

at night waiting to see if anybody

has a glass of beer at five past 10.

Well, I'll go now, Mrs. Preston.

You don’t want me about.

I do hope he'll be all right.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

Thank you, oh, thank you.

Do you want me for anything else?

No, there's nothing, thank you.

You know where to find me if you do.

It's Peggy Dobson, the
Feathers, River Lane.

I'm sorry, Inspector, but
it was nice of her to come.

Now he's in his bedroom there.

Oh, I was just coming down.

I just came up to tell you

there's no more for you to worry about.

Well, it's perfectly true.

Now, you won't need this thing.

Come and sit down,

and I'll tell you all about it.

Well, to begin with, Mr. Preston,

we've got the man who did it.

As a matter of fact,

it was you who put us on the right track.

When you told me about the little chap

who worked in the hospital in the evenings

and the club kitchen weekends.

But the thing that had been puzzling us

was the coincidence of someone
trying to plant a robbery

on a man the very night
he's missing from home.

You know, it looks to me as
if Robinson, the club steward,

and this little chap had
planned to get that money,

maybe Monday night, maybe
the next, I don't know.

But when they hear the
club treasurer is missing,

well, it's a gift.

They break open the safe, share the money,

Robinson goes round to Major Watson

and tries to plant the thing on you.

Well, after that, it's the old
story of thieves falling out.

Anyway, Robinson got
a knock over the head,

the other chap took the lot.

Isn't it splendid, Mrs. Preston?

We've got all the money
back bar two pounds ten.

That's fine, Major.

Of course, I always said
your husband was innocent.

But if I were he, I'd
prosecute that inspector.

Oh, tell him to be at the
club tomorrow evening.

It's the draw.

- Goodnight, Mrs. Preston.
- Goodnight.

I'm afraid it's caused you an awful lot

of trouble and anxiety, Mr. Preston,

but that's the sort of thing
that might happen to anybody.

Oh, and here's a pair of
gloves and a handkerchief

which you left in the
spare room at the Feathers.

I believe your solicitor was
a bit worried about those.

Well, I'll say goodnight now, Mr. Preston.

Well, goodnight.

Inspector, your flowers.

Oh, thank you very much, Mrs. Preston.

My wife will be delighted.