Original subtitles

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Alfred Hitchcock Hour.

This is a device for those persons who enjoy walking in the rain, but are

afraid not to carry an umbrella, lest people think them peculiar.

You may have noticed that I'm not wearing a raincoat either.

There are several practical applications of my umbrella.

It is excellent for those who enjoy tuning in on local radio stations with

their hearing aids.

As you can see, it's convertible, in case you occasionally wish to walk with

the top down.

Naturally, the preceding nonsense has nothing whatsoever to do with tonight's

play, nor, for that matter, does the following.

Dear Uncle George, I am writing to you out of sheer desperation.

I don't have anywhere to turn, and I'm in a terrible way.

My husband hasn't worked in months and has started drinking.

I know he's a good man, but all this extra time on his hands is too much for

him to cope with.

How can I help him through this crisis?

Signed, at the end of my rope.

Dear end of your rope, take comfort in this thought from Uncle George.

Your problem, unfortunately, is not unique.

What your husband needs is a hobby.

Like collecting things to divert his energies from drink.

Or working with his hands.

That might restore his self-respect.

Any more cries of pain for this human wailing wall?

Uh-huh.

Oh, something interesting, Bea?

Dear Uncle George, believe me, I'm a woman who minds her own business.

Whoops. But I live in a large building, and I can't help noticing what's going

on in the apartment across the court from mine. You can be sure that this

nice lady owns a beautiful pair of binoculars.

A nice man lives there with his wife, but when he's away at work, another man

comes in.

Sometimes, when the drapes aren't drawn, I would see him kiss her.

Should I tell the husband what's going on behind his back?

Or should I forget the whole thing?

I'd appreciate an immediate answer because I'm leaving to visit my sister

upstate. Signed, Good Samaritan.

Good Samaritan.

Well, Good Samaritan.

Dear Good Samaritan.

Obviously, you are a nosy old witch. And I'm sure you've got warts on your nose.

Oh, it's not worth it just to send her a note telling her to mind her own

business. Gently.

Don't offend.

How many more?

Enough.

Let's get him out of the way, even if it means we have to work through dinner.

I'd like to play a little squash in the morning. Do you mind?

Oh, no, I don't mind.

You better call your wife.

Yes, ma'am.

A corned beef and a vanilla shake?

I'm pumping a go.

Hello.

Well, you sound cheery.

Oh, hello, darling. Where are you?

Oh, I'm still at the office. I won't be home until after nine.

Oh, you mean poor little Louise has to eat all alone?

I'm sorry, darling, but I've just got to clean up a few odds and ends. I've sent

out for a sandwich.

Oh, okay. I'll make me some eggs.

See you after nine.

You've forgiven me about this morning?

It was all my fault.

I'll see you later, darling.

If I'm not asleep.

I'm awfully tired.

Bye.

Do you like your eggs up or over-eating?

Funny thing.

What? This woman, Good Samaritan, she lives in your building.

Oh. 523 Park. That's your address, isn't it? Yeah.

They're out of pumpernickel. How about rye? All right. Rye. Okay.

Louise? Louise?

Where have you been?

Oh, I didn't feel like cooking. I decided to eat out.

Alone? Sure. There's a marvelous new Italian restaurant on 3rd Avenue with

really the end in Scalapini.

One of these nights, when you're working late, I should meet you there.

Have you been drinking?

Well, just one before I left. Why?

Well, this bottle's half empty. I just opened it yesterday.

No, that was two days ago, darling.

And you weren't exactly sober when you went to bed last night.

Well, now, did you dredge up a lot of lovely advice to your lovelorn today?

I have a big shoulder.

It's quite comfortable.

Would you like to try?

I'm awfully tired, Johnny.

I'm a great comforter.

I offer solace to millions.

I read your column today, Johnny.

That's nice.

Pretty sickening.

Much too sweet, darling.

Thanks.

I thought it was pretty bad, too.

But I wrote another chapter of my novel when I was at work this morning. Good.

Was good.

Six years is a long time to be writing on one book, Johnny.

At the rate you're going, you're going to have to have it published

posthumously. Very funny.

I think you're going to have to give in soon, Johnny. Put your name on that

column. I mean, that's quite some reputation, being Uncle George. Uncle

George is famous.

Come on now, Louise.

Oh, are you afraid your friends would laugh if they found out how you made

your living?

Isn't that sad?

Only your secretary, your publisher, and your wife know enough to offer you

homage. Louise.

Have you seen my new poem?

No, I have not seen your comb.

Oh, would you believe it?

That's the third one I've lost this month.

And you had my initials put on it, too.

Oh, well. Uncle George will buy me another one.

What are you doing?

This place is driving me nuts, Johnny. It's like living in a goldfish bowl.

I want to move.

Why?

There's some old woman that lives across the court that's got nothing better to

do all day long than play I Spy on her neighbors. I wouldn't be a bit surprised

if she appeared any moment at the front door with a poisoned apple in her hand.

Are you serious?

Of course I'm serious.

And if this keeps up, I want you to speak to the superintendent.

What apartment is she in?

The one directly opposite ours, number 6 West, I think. I don't know.

Will you get away from there? Don't encourage her. You'll only give her

something else to stare at.

Louise?

I'm snowed under again tonight. I won't be home until at least midnight.

Yes, midnight.

You'll find something to do, won't you?

All right, dear. I'm sorry.

Yes, I won't make any noise. I'll be quiet.

Well, it looks like we're going to be working late again tonight, Bea.

Oh, every night this week.

Well, think of all the overtime.

Overtime, some overtime.

I may have lost my husband. He never sees me anymore.

Bea, hold any calls for me the next hour or so. I don't want to be disturbed.

I'll order dinner now.

Let's splurge tonight.

I'll buy you a steak.

A steak!

What are you doing home so early, Johnny?

For me?

Well, of course, darling.

Excellent.

You liar.

Should I have brought you flowers or candy?

It's not Valentine's Day, is it? Our anniversary, maybe?

All right, I'm expecting someone, okay?

Maybe under the circumstances, you better go back to your office. It might

prove embarrassing.

She was right. Who was right?

The good Samaritan with the poison apple.

The what?

Louise, who were you waiting for?

A handsome prince on a great white charger.

I want to know.

Dear, dear, Uncle George.

I'm just a poor lonely little housewife with an ogre for a husband.

Please send me a handsome prince on a great white charger.

I'm warning you, Louise.

You're not in a position to warn anybody. Ow, you're bruising my arm.

Oh, what are you going to do, divorce me?

Well, how will that look in your very own paper?

Famous lovelorn columnist, famous Uncle George. You can't even hold on to your

own wife.

I swear I'm... Look, get out of here. I'm waiting for someone, a guest, a

casual acquaintance, a lover, whatever he is, he's none of your business.

Can I see a bee?

Sure.

Oh, fell asleep, did you?

Yeah.

I needed it. Too much squash.

Well, those poor working girls tie bare fingers to the bone.

I'd better call my wife.

No, no, don't go. I need you.

Hello, Louise.

Louise?

What?

What is it? I don't hear you.

Listen, I'm coming right home.

Hello?

Hello?

I don't understand.

She sounded frightened.

Frightened? Yeah, she was saying something about someone being in the

other room. She tried to tell me something, then the line went dead.

You'd better get home.

Yes.

I know this is going to sound absolutely nuts to you, Bea, but you'd better call

the police and have them send someone over there right away, just as

precaution. I have a feeling something's very wrong.

Operator, give me the police department, please.

You Chambers? Yes, what's wrong?

I'm Lieutenant Wolfson.

I have some bad news for you.

Maybe you'd like to sit down.

Sit down?

Oh, no. No, I don't want to sit down.

Your wife had an accident.

What kind of accident?

Sure you won't sit down?

I don't want to sit down.

Just tell me.

She was murdered.

Sorry.

Who? How?

Who would kill Louise?

We don't know. When we got here, she was dead.

She'd been struck with a statue of Cupid.

Here, take it.

I know it's not the perfect time for questions, but your secretary phoned us

a short while ago.

Mind telling us why?

I was at the office, eh?

I called Louise.

And she sounded very frightened.

Lieutenant.

Was there anyone else here when you arrived?

Why do you ask, Mr. Chambers?

I'll guess that from the way she behaved on the phone, I got the impression she

wasn't alone.

Sergeant.

Yes, sir. Bring in the other gentleman.

Johnny, I don't know what to say.

Then you do know each other.

Well, I told you, Lieutenant, we used to work on the same paper until a couple of

months ago.

Is that true?

Yeah. Reporter?

No, I worked in the art department.

Is that true?

I'm not lying to you, Lieutenant.

Mr. Estrell discovered the body.

Says he arrived here before we did.

here when I called Louise, Tom?

No, she was dead when I got here. Did you just drop by, Tom?

Johnny, you know me better than that. I never just dropped by anywhere.

I was at home working, painting.

The phone rang. It was Louise. She said that she wanted to talk to me about

doing a portrait of her.

She said she knew that I'd been having it hard since I left the paper, that

maybe she could get a couple of commissions for me from some of her

friends.

Strange.

Louise never mentioned the fact that she wanted a portrait painted to me.

Well, it was for a present.

So you came over here on business?

Yes, Lieutenant, business.

You're not one of those abstract painters, are you?

Johnny, can I have a drink?

Yeah.

Hmm.

Champagne.

Kind of fancy to discuss some business over... Oh, Louise, uh, Mrs...

Chambers used to drink a lot of champagne.

Well, she was very fond of it, wasn't she, Johnny?

Oh, yes, Tom.

Uh-huh.

Now, let's look at this and see what we've got.

Mr. Chambers called his wife. She sounded frightened.

We'll assume that she was here with person or persons unknown.

At some point, she is killed by person or persons unknown.

Then Mr. Estor arrives to discuss business.

We've already been informed by Mr. Chambers' secretary that something is

wrong, and we get here a few minutes later.

What does that timetable tell us, Sergeant?

Well, two things, Lieutenant.

Number one, Mr. Chambers has an alibi.

And number two, Mrs. Chambers probably knew the murderer.

Very good, Sergeant.

You'll have my job before you know it.

Now let's see what Mr. Estor has in his pockets.

Any of these fit the front door? No.

Who let you into the apartment, Mr. Estereau?

No one let me in. The door was open.

Was Mrs. Chambers in the habit of leaving the front door open?

No. Louise had a bug about keeping the door locked.

Well, I'm all through in here, Lieutenant. We're going back down the

lab. Find any prints?

Yeah, we found a few.

Let me know the minute you get your slides made up.

Lieutenant.

My fingerprints are on that Cupid.

Well, when I found Louise, the first thing I did was to check and see if she

was still alive.

And I saw the Cupid on the floor.

Well,

it's a perfectly natural reaction.

So you picked it up? I picked it up.

I see, Mr. Estridge. I think I'd like to call my lawyer. You can do that when you

get to the station house. Sergeant Duncan will drive you there safe and

sound.

Come on.

Oh, Sergeant, did you check the car coat pockets?

Lieutenant, in my car coat pockets, I have two new tubes of oil paints.

Sink white and burnt umber. And that's all, which I'll be glad to show you.

Find something else?

Johnny, I never saw that key before.

You killed Louise.

All right, now take it easy, Mr. Chambers.

Calm down, Chambers.

Come on, Johnny.

Get out of here.

Come on, Estro. Get out of here.

Would you say Estro is a talented painter?

I don't know.

I'm not really that familiar with his work.

How well do you know him?

Well, as well as you know anyone that you work with.

We saw him socially there for a while while he was still married.

Last time I saw him was at an art gallery. One of his portraits was in the

show.

What was his attitude towards your wife?

Now, look, Mr. Chambers, there was a murder here tonight. Nothing was taken

as far as we know.

You can help us verify that later.

So I'm just wondering if it might have been a crime of passion.

Did it ever occur to you that your wife was involved with another man?

Never. Never once occurred to you? Never.

Louise was completely faithful to me.

But it is possible that a very clever wife can fool a husband about such

things, isn't it?

We're finishing here, Lieutenant.

Taking the body down to the morgue.

Let's finish our talk in the study.

Suppose there was another man.

Suppose that man did kill Louise.

It's possible that other man is Thomas Droh, isn't it?

I think it's possible, Mr. Chambers.

My appearance now is a signal indicating we have come to the halfway point.

After me, the deluge of commercials,

spot announcements,

station identification, etc.

And, if time permits, the second half of our story.

We have one more country to hear from, after which we shall continue our story.

Dear Unhappy, I would suggest that you...

Mr.

Chambers, why don't you let me... No, I want to work for you.

Read back, will you?

Dear Unhappy, I would suggest that you... Oh, yes.

Dear Unhappy, I...

Johnny, I told you not to come back to the office.

Go home. Your column can wait a few days.

Not if these are any indication.

How could I get the man I want?

He's 12 old enough to go steady.

What can I do about losing weight?

All these people want their problems solved by Uncle George, but Uncle George

has his own problems. He just buried his wife this morning.

Johnny, look.

Now I can hire somebody else to play Uncle George for the time being, or we

can pull the column out of the paper for a few weeks.

That doesn't sound like my publisher talking.

Well, your publisher is your friend.

And as a friend, I say you should have a vacation.

I don't think the police would... I don't think the police would like for me

to leave right now.

Why not? You're not a suspect.

Oh, incidentally, I had a little talk with Lieutenant Wilson this afternoon. I

told him that you write the Uncle George column. I asked him not to mention that

to any of the reporters.

Oh, I see.

Uncle George, public commodity, thrown on some high mountain top, passing down

column after column of immortal wisdom.

Mustn't let the readers know that he's involved in a murder case.

That's what I felt, as a publisher.

Lieutenant Wilson was very understanding, said he would cooperate.

The wife of John Chambers, unpublished novelist, is murdered.

And Uncle George marches on, his reputation's snow-white. Oh, that's

fine.

Hello?

No, this is Simon Aldrich. Mr. Chambers is indisposed.

I see.

Yes, yes, I'll tell him.

That was Tom Estero's lawyer.

Estero wants to see you. Apparently he's still in jail.

Oh, why would he want to see me?

Don't go, Johnny.

Oh, I might.

Johnny, look, I'm driving up to my place for the weekend.

Now, the worst possible thing you can do is spend time in that empty apartment.

Why don't you put your things away and come with me?

You've never seen my country place. It's really getting away from everything.

No, I don't know.

Well, we've got tennis, horses, heated pool.

As a matter of fact, I just built a new steam room.

All right.

You just convinced me.

I was going to a hotel anyway.

Good.

Would you mind waiting for me for a while?

No. But why?

I want to see Tom Estrell.

Johnny, I didn't kill her.

I hadn't even seen Louise since that night at the art gallery.

Look, I was surprised when she called me.

You don't believe me, do you?

I remember now how she flirted with you.

How handsome she thought you were.

Johnny, Louise never meant anything to me. You can't seriously believe there

was anything between us?

Johnny, you can't. You've got to help me.

What do you mean, help you?

We're friends.

We were friends.

I buried my wife this morning. I saw her covered up deep in the ground.

And you think I killed her? I think there was something going on between the

two of you.

So did the police, so you wouldn't be here.

I hope you're convicted.

Chambers was just downstairs to see Estro.

So?

Well, doesn't that look a little strange?

It's really true that a watch pot never boils.

Sir? Ah, it heard me.

Tea?

No, thank you, sir. It's a little early for me.

Estro asked to see Chambers today.

Oh?

What's bothering you, Sergeant?

Don't you think we have the right man?

Look, on the night of the murder, Chambers phoned his wife from the

office, remember?

He said she sounded upset, worried. And then he went straight home.

All right, fine, I guess that makes sense.

But why did he have his secretary phone us?

There's something a little illogical here.

It's almost as if he wanted us to arrive in time to find Estro.

Do you really want my job that bad, Sergeant?

I beg your pardon, sir? I'll be retiring in ten days. You'll get your promotion.

You can have the chair, the desk, the paperwork.

You can even have the tea bag.

You'll make a fine count.

And you'll learn after a while.

No matter how instinctively you feel about the case, you're bound to the

evidence.

I'll admit there's something fishy.

When his wife was murdered, Chambers was downtown in his office.

Oh, no, we've broken alibis before.

Estero was on the scene.

His fingerprints were on the murder weapon.

He had his own key to the apartment.

I arrested the man the evidence pointed to.

Listen, suppose Chambers knew that his wife was playing around.

Suppose he did.

How can you prove it? No.

There's one thing that Chambers is hiding.

Oh, what's that?

I had a talk with Simon Aldrich, his publisher, this morning.

Chambers is Uncle George.

Uncle what?

Ask my wife.

Hello, Marion.

Hi.

Sergeant Duncan has a question he wants to ask you.

Hi, Marion.

Say, who is this Uncle George?

Yeah.

Yeah?

Advice to what?

I'm ready for the steam.

I built this room just this summer.

It's great.

Yeah.

I'll get us a drink.

I always like the feeling of being hot outside and cold inside.

Here, have a drink.

Well, we'll take a shower and then we'll drive to this good steakhouse nearby

that I... What's wrong?

What's this doing here?

Does it belong to Louise?

As far as I know, she's never been to your country house, has she?

Lots of people have the same initials.

I bought it for her.

Johnny... It was you, wasn't it?

You and Louise, wasn't it?

Yes.

How long?

Johnny, she's dead.

How long?

Louise and I loved each other. She was going to ask him for a divorce.

They put the wrong man in prison.

Johnny, the crime involved is murder, not a love affair.

They tried to pin a crime of passion on poor Tom Estero. They've got to know

that he had no motive.

Now listen to me, Johnny.

Louise and I were very careful.

We were never seen together, never.

We never went anywhere where anyone knew us.

I'm not about to have a scandal.

I've wanted to tell you this.

I wanted to talk to someone.

I love Louise very much.

the night she was murdered. Where?

Where I was is not important.

I did not kill her, Johnny.

I'm sorry you had to find out this way.

But there is no reason to go to the police about this. Now, Estoril has been

caught. He will be convicted.

I'm certain that he killed Louise.

We must do nothing to hinder or obstruct the final verdict.

The right man must be punished.

I couldn't agree with you more.

I went

to

his house in the country yesterday.

And the comb that Louise had lost.

He couldn't deny it. He told me the truth.

You see, the police arrested you in the theory that the crime was a crime of

passion.

But now that we know that it was Aldrich and not you, you no longer have a

motive.

So all I have to do now is implicate Mr. Publisher.

But he'll deny it, Johnny.

Yeah.

Unless someone saw the two of them together.

Wait a minute.

A couple of days before Louise was killed, she told me about this old, busy

body who lived across the court, this old woman who kept staring through the

window. There might be a good chance that she saw Aldrich when he visited

her.

And if he denied it, and she recognizes him... Exactly.

Catch him in a lie, and he cuts his own throat.

Yeah, but my pictures were in all the papers, Johnny.

I mean, if this old woman of yours could identify or had seen Louise's visitor...

Why didn't she go to the police and tell them it was all a mistake?

Maybe she didn't read the papers. Maybe she was out of town for all we know.

It's certainly worth a try to find her.

All right, how do we explain the key in my pocket?

Johnny, I swear I never saw it before.

I know.

I put the key in your pocket.

I was so sure that you killed Louise, I didn't know what I was doing. I just

knew that the killer had to be caught, that there had to be some evidence.

Forgive me, Tom.

I know now that you didn't do it.

I know.

Mr. Chambers, we just can't drag some nice old lady away from her vacation

unless we have a very good reason for doing something like that.

Mrs. Weatherby is a material witness.

I'm sure she can prove that Aldridge was the man my wife was seeing and not Tom

Estereau. I had a talk with Aldridge.

He said he never met your wife.

They've been seeing each other for five months.

We have no proof of that.

Lieutenant, either you contact that woman or I'm going to your immediate

superior.

Would you like a cup of tea?

No, I would not like a cup of tea.

Mr. Chambers, I've already made an arrest, which makes my position kind of

awkward. You're sure you're not mistaken about this Mrs. Weatherby being a

busybody? Louise complained about her. It seems likely that she saw the man my

wife was entertaining.

Lieutenant, I want that woman to meet Aldrich. And if you can't arrange it by

tomorrow afternoon, I'm going over your head.

Everything looks all right up there to me, Mr. Chambers.

I don't understand if she's not drawn well.

Well, maybe it's my imagination.

Would you care for a drink, Sam?

Oh, I'm not supposed to drink on the job, Mr. Chambers.

Some of the tenants might complain.

But after all, the day's about over.

Ah, sure, I might as well. Good.

When someone leaves for vacation or takes a trip, they usually notify you,

don't they? Sure.

Are you thinking of going away, Mr. Chambers?

Possibly. Why don't you sit down? Thanks.

They leave their forwarding address, don't they? Most of them do, sir.

That woman across the court in 6 West, she's away, isn't she? 6 West?

That'll be Mrs. Weatherby.

Let me see now.

Oh, yes, Mrs. Weatherby went upstate a few days ago to visit her sister.

I go in every other day to water her plants.

She's got the tallest rubber tree in the building.

Did she leave her sister's address?

Yes, though I don't know why.

All she ever gets is circulars.

Though I suppose you'd read circulars from cover to cover if you never got any

other mail.

Well, I want that address, Sam.

Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Chambers. It's a little bit irregular, you know, and...

Why don't you just help yourself to another drink?

Thanks. Thank you, sir.

Ah, that's good stuff, sir.

I'll go down right now and get that address for you, sir.

Do that then.

21.

22.

23.

24. This is unexpected, Simon.

Something you didn't like in my column today.

Twenty-five.

The police called me.

I'm supposed to be down there in an hour.

Traffic violation.

Twenty-six. Get up.

I don't know what you told them, Chambers, but I warn you I will take you

to court.

I'm sure you'll be there before I will.

I have already answered their questions.

Yes, I know.

With lies.

Chambers, you're fired.

Get your things out of here.

I'm surprised you waited as long as you did.

You can't involve me, Chambers. You have no proof.

Yes, B.

Oh, put him on, by all means.

Hello, Lieutenant.

Yes, I've been waiting for your call.

Your office?

Yes, I'll be right down.

Oh, uh, Lieutenant.

Did our friend arrive from upstate?

Good.

Very good.

Yeah.

Apparently we've both been invited.

Can I give you a lift?

This won't take long, gentlemen.

Sit down.

Just a matter of clearing up some facts.

Mr. Aldrich, two questions.

Have you ever been to Mrs. Chambers' apartment?

I have not.

And you weren't seeing Mrs.

Chambers socially?

I never met the woman.

Uh-huh.

Sergeant, bring her in.

Come right in, Mrs. Weatherby.

Thank you.

We're very sorry to have interrupted your vacation.

Oh, that's all right. I never was in a police station before.

Would you like to sit down?

Thank you. Now, I'd like to ask you a few questions.

Where do you live?

At 523 Park Avenue.

And your apartment number?

6 West.

Now, Mrs. Weatherby, this is very important.

Do you recognize anyone here?

Oh, my, yes.

Why, you're the young man who's married to that woman.

Oh, what a terrible thing that was. The sergeant told me all about it. I am

sorry.

But if you'll forgive me, I'd say it was predictable.

One can't carry on that way.

What way, Mrs. Wetherby?

She wasn't too discreet.

Turned the hi-fi on loud the minute that poor man went off to work.

And I never once saw her get up in the morning to fix his breakfast.

As soon as he was out of the door, the hi-fi was up. And she sat all morning

reading the newspapers and drinking coffee.

Then later in the day, she had a visitor.

Another man who wasn't her husband.

Was this the other man, Mrs. Weatherby?

Oh, no.

Oh, the other man was older.

And he had grey hair. And he was very distinguished looking.

Certainly old enough to be her father.

Of course, one wouldn't be putting on new lipstick and turning up the hi

-fi and fixing drinks for two and drawing the drapes if your father was

coming to visit you.

That's him.

Are you positive?

I'm certain of it.

Well, Mr. Aldrich.

Louise and I were in love.

But I did not kill her.

Where were you the night she was murdered?

I was at home.

Was anybody there?

I don't have an alibi, if that's what you mean, Lieutenant.

It's all very simple, Lieutenant. You can't very well hold Tom now. Obviously,

Aldridge is the man.

I'll handle this myself, Mr. Chambers.

If I were you, I'd call my lawyer.

You've been a great help, Mrs. Weatherby.

We'll need a statement from you later.

Sergeant Duncan will drive you home. Oh, what a shame. For the first time, dear

Uncle George was wrong.

What did you say?

Uncle George.

You know dear Uncle George in the papers.

I always write to him for advice.

You wrote to Uncle George?

Yes, I didn't know what to do. And I told him that this poor man was being

tricked by his wife.

He wrote and told me not to interfere. He didn't even print my letter.

Sorry, I never should have listened to him. I should have called you and told

you about it I'm sure that if you knew what was going on you'd have done

something about it

That concludes tonight's story.

However, since there is still some more time remaining, we shall show you some

of next week's story. This is the Alfred Hitchcock Hour, and we intend to give

full measure.

As for my umbrella, there is one other use which I failed to mention.

Some people have used this for tightrope walking, but only when they were

very tight.

Good night.