Original subtitles

I'm coming!

What do you want in this hour?

I'm looking for an artist named Henri Redin.

You from the police? No.

It's a personal matter.

Go away!

All right.

Upstairs? I'll show you.

But I promise nothing.

He's been locked in his room for a week.

When I knock, he tells me to go away. He's painting a masterpiece.

Oh, then he is working.

Or drinking.

Or taking drugs.

He is fool... Oh, that one.

Oh, many painters have lived in this pension, but none like Radin. This

masterpiece you spoke of, have you seen it?

I do not wish to see it, monsieur.

His work is evil.

Perhaps a nude.

There is no evil in nakedness.

Oh, but Radin, he paints monsters.

He sketches at night in graveyards.

Graveyards? Last month he did a portrait at the morgue. His model was a corpse.

He called his painting Still Life.

Monsieur Radin.

Open the door. You have a visitor.

You see, he will not answer.

Perhaps he's ill.

Better use your key.

Please open the door, madam.

I insist.

And by what right, monsieur?

I am his father.

Oh.

Why would he kill himself?

Look!

His last picture.

he finished it perhaps perhaps the picture finished him

yes

the painting did finish its morbid creator but i can assure you that our

story is not finished oh no it's only just begun

Think of that.

This painting is over a hundred years old, and yet real blood still glistens

on the scythe of the Grim Reaper, which by no mere coincidence is the title of

our story for tonight.

How strange indeed that the immortality sought by a mad artist

should assume the form of death.

But even stranger are the fearful consequences to these others whenever

the grim reaper's scythe drips blood.

Our principal players are William Shatner, Natalie

Shaffer, Elizabeth Allen, Scott Merrill,

Fifi Dorsey, and Henry Daniel.

You've seen the harbinger of evil.

Someone is in mortal danger as sure as my name is Boris Karloff. Uh-uh.

Stay where you are.

I'll join you as you wait and watch.

My favorite nephew.

Just fine. Is everything all right? Oh, never better.

Why? Well, I had a bit of a shock when I drove up. I thought something might have

happened. Oh, you mean the hearse. Isn't it divine?

I just bought it.

You bought it? Yes, and it was a great bargain, too. The salesman told me it's

in perfect condition.

The only person who ever drove it was a little old corpse from Pasadena.

That's a joke, dear.

Oh, well, maybe not really a joke, but I think it's good publicity.

You mean you actually drive a hearse? Well, yes, especially when the

photographers are here. You know, one of the picture magazines is sending out a

crew to do a spread on the house. Oh, wait till you see it inside. It's the

ever-loving end.

Come on in. We mustn't let fresh air into the house.

Well, what do you think? Who designed this place? Charles Adams?

I cannot tell a lie.

I did it with my little hatchet.

I don't get it.

Oh, Paul, dear. To you, I'm just good old Auntie Bee.

And a bit of a kook, right?

Oh, now I know. Never mind.

But you must remember that to the public, I'm Beatrice Graves, author of

27 hardcover mysteries, 11 screenplays, and three television series based on

characters that I created.

So it pays off to be a bit of a character myself.

Well, now do you get it?

This is showbiz. Now I see. You had me a bit worried.

Buying this old barn, calling it Graves' End.

Oh, I'd much rather have called it Bedside Manor.

But Gravesend seems so much more appropriate.

You must always play up the name, you know.

You still call yourself Beatrice Graves? Oh, yes, of course. It's lots easier

than Beatrice Graves and Fugio, Camston, Stantler, uh, uh, Molson,

Keller. Four husbands.

Five, darling. You're forgetting Keller.

Keller? Where does he come in? Right through there.

Oh. Oh.

Oh.

Oh, darling.

No, really, not in front of company.

Come on, I want you to meet my nephew, Paul Graves.

And this is Gerald Keller, my newest husband.

Good meeting you, Paul.

Gerald. Gerald Keller. Jerry.

I thought so. Haven't I seen you on television?

Very likely, if you've been watching all the wrong shows.

You don't have to worry, Paul. I'm giving it up.

I've played the charming boyish murderer for the last time.

Oh, that's a pity.

Carolyn will be disappointed.

Carolyn? Carolyn Thomas, my landlady's daughter. She's madly in love with

Gerald. Oh, she is, is she? Well, why don't you bring her around so Gerald can

meet her and I can scratch her eyes out?

No, Aunt Bea, that's no way to talk about a 10-year-old child.

I've got a better idea.

Gerald, why don't you give her your autograph? Just sign your name right

here. I know that'll give her a big thrill. Yeah, I've got to be nice to my

public.

The only reason I married him is because I'm so fond of ham.

Darling, come and let me show you the rest of the house.

Aren't you coming on the grand tour, dear?

Uh, not this time. I think I'll go upstairs and finish some lettuce.

Well, what do you think of it? Very impressive, but very expensive to keep

up.

I decided that I could afford a few luxuries at my age.

I wasn't talking about the house.

Neither was I.

Oh, Paul, I did so hope you'd understand.

Oh, I do, Aunt Bea.

I didn't come here because of Gerald.

I wondered about that. You haven't seen me in over a year, not since I came back

from Europe.

What made you decide to visit me? Must be something important.

It is, Aunt Bea, very important.

Do you need money?

No, I've never asked you for money. You know that.

You still have that silly little accounting business, making out income

tax returns for rich businessmen who can't even add or subtract.

I get along.

It's not my problems that brought me here, Aunt Bea.

It's yours that worry me.

Problems? But I haven't any problems.

But you have, Aunt Bea.

I must talk to you.

Not now. Oh, excuse me.

Oh, it's quite all right, Dorothy. I didn't mean to intrude.

This is my nephew, Paul Graves.

Dorothy Linden, my secretary.

Mr. Graves. How do you do, Miss Linden?

Dorothy does all my typing and most of my spelling as well.

Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take on another job today.

What's that?

Cooking. Oh, don't tell me Emma quit.

Why, she can't walk out on me like this. I'll go and talk to her. She left this

noon, right after lunch.

Without even having the decency to say goodbye to me?

Well, you were in the library, Mrs. Graves, and she said she just couldn't

go in there because of it.

It?

What's it all about?

Come on, I'll show you.

What's the matter?

Don't tell me you're afraid of it, too.

Perhaps. You make it sound like you're concealing some sort of monster in

there. Come see for yourself.

What do you think of it?

It's horrible.

Were you expecting Whistler's mother?

Please don't joke about it.

But it is a joke.

Now let me tell you what this is. I know what it is.

Henri Radin's painting, The Grim Reaper.

And you must have read about it in the papers.

Yes.

That's why I came. Quite a story, wasn't it? I knew it would pay off when I

bought the picture. I hit the wire services all over the country. You've

got to get rid of it.

Get rid of it.

With the picture magazine coming out to do a spread, why, they'll eat this up.

Please, Aunt Bea, I'm telling you for your own good.

Ah, now you stick to being an accountant or a no accountant. I know what's good

for me.

This is publicity.

Will you listen to me? Something wrong?

Yes, with my nephew's pointed head.

He wants me to get rid of the picture.

Well, you've got to admit, it's a bit on the morbid side.

Apparently, you don't know the history of this painting. Only what Bea told me

about the absent-minded artist.

Absent-minded. Yeah, like he hung himself instead of the picture.

This is nothing to joke about.

Let me tell you. All right, all right.

We might as well sit down and let Paul do the Morris the Explainer bit.

That's a show business term, dear.

The character in the trench coat who comes on and tells how the murder was

committed. He's Morris the Explainer.

All right, Morris, the floor is yours.

I'll make this as short as...

Possible.

According to the record, this picture was painted in 1848. Since that time,

it's had 17 owners.

15 of them have met with a violent or mysterious death.

You mean you paid a small fortune for a picture that has a jinx on it? Not a

jinx, Gerald.

A curse.

Oh, that's fantastic.

The story of this painting is a matter of factual record.

The moment I heard that Aunt Bea had bought the painting, I remembered

newspaper articles.

I dug up its whole history in the research department of the library.

And then you came out here to warn me like a good little boy. Is that it?

Oh, Paul, don't you think I know all this?

That old story about the curse has been running in the Sunday supplements for

years.

Then why did you buy it?

Well, for precisely that reason.

Think of the news angle.

Mystery writer defies ancient curse.

Then you don't believe the stories.

Oh, I believe that people died, yes.

But the former owners of this painting were military leaders and European

nobility. Just the sort who would die violent deaths.

Well, what about all those other curse stories?

The Hope Diamond.

The people who died after opening King Tut's tomb.

Just coincidence.

No curse.

You might as well say that the Declaration of Independence carried a

curse. Of course, everybody who signed it died.

Well... I guess we can all relax.

You're forgetting one thing.

Aunt Bea, you say you know the history of this painting?

Of course I do.

Then how do you explain the stigmata?

Stigmata? Isn't that a religious term?

When holy men or sacred relics suddenly start to bleed?

But this isn't a religious painting.

No, it's not a religious painting.

Unless the man who painted it...

Worship death.

Who knows what went on in Henri Radin's twisted mind when he created this

nightmare. But one thing we do know, 15 of the people who owned this painting

met with a sudden, unexpected, violent death.

And each was warned.

Oh, how?

You mean somebody told them?

The painting told them.

Every time someone is about to die, the painting begins to bleed.

Oh, you're making this up.

Isn't he, Mrs. Graves?

Of course, I've heard that story.

The art dealer told me that... Couldn't it be true?

Oh, no.

Superstitious nonsense.

What do they mean when they say the picture bleeds?

Oh, I don't know. Maybe Anthony is right. It does sound fantastic.

They say this is the Grim Reaper, the Angel of Death.

And he gives a warning.

You see the scythe he carried?

Whenever anyone is about to die, the blade of that scythe begins.

Oh, what's the matter?

What is it?

Well, anyway, the art dealer told me I was a rich, spoiled American witch.

That's the word he used. In French, of course.

Then he insisted on 150,000 francs.

Mr. Keller.

Dorothy seems to think you've had enough to drink.

Don't be silly, darling.

I called him a bandit. I told him that crime doesn't pay that well, not even on

television.

And then we compromised for 100,000.

You paid 100,000 francs for that obscenity.

Don't get so excited, Paul.

I'm rather fond of the old reaper.

You know, art is like marriage.

I don't know very much about men, but I know what I like.

It's a very good brand. Are you sure you want to have some, Paul?

Cognac's the same as a woman. At its very best, between the ages of 25 and

40.

It's 50.

I'm cold out here. I'm going into the library.

Bring the brandy, dear.

Aren't you coming with me, Paul?

No, Aunt Bea, I'm going up to my room.

Well, that's a little progress.

At least for on a first-name basis.

What's the idea of sneaking up on me like that?

I'll give you three guesses.

This is no time for clowning. But I'm not clowning.

If you just give me the chance, I can prove it.

You promised to leave me alone.

I guess I'm just a forgetful type.

Well, let me remind you, then.

You're a married man.

You don't have to remind me.

How can you be so cold-blooded?

Aren't you concerned about what happened?

Of course.

That's why I'm here.

I was worried about you.

Well, you ought to be worried about your wife.

Didn't you notice at dinner? She always drinks at dinner.

Not like this.

I'm afraid she's going off the deep end again.

Who were you going to call?

Dr. Bryce.

Don't bother.

But if he came up, he could calm her nerves down, give her a shot. Let her

get her shots from the brandy bottle.

That'll calm her soon enough.

Gerald, she's your wife.

No, she isn't.

She's married to the Brandy Bottle.

She doesn't know how I feel about you.

And if she did, she wouldn't even...

Get

out of here!

I can take a hint.

Excuse me.

I didn't mean to upset you.

I just stepped out for some air.

I know.

I'm afraid we're all a bit tense tonight.

My aunt seems very upset.

Does she always indulge herself this much?

Your aunt works very hard.

Writing is a great strain on a nervous temperament.

Actually, she's been much better lately, but...

Tonight. Yes, I know.

It's my fault.

You did disturb her.

I had to tell her the truth.

The painting is dangerous. Why can't she believe me?

I'm sure she does believe you.

That's why she drank so much tonight.

Drinking is no solution. We've got to do something about this.

What do you suggest?

We must get rid of the picture. We must destroy it before it destroys her.

She means a great deal to you, doesn't she?

And Bea is the only relative I have in the world.

And I love her.

That's why it's important to me.

She must be protected.

Then why don't you talk to her? Right now.

Maybe she'll listen to you.

She must listen.

I think she's still in the library.

What do you want?

Looking for a drink?

Help yourself.

No thanks, Aunt Bea. I never touch it. Oh, yes, that's right. You don't drink.

You don't do anything.

What are you, anyway? The world's oldest Eagle Scout?

Please, Aunt Bea.

I know you're here to do your good deed for the day.

Who sent you, anyway? Gerald?

Or the girl?

Neither one.

I should know better than that.

They don't care what happens to me just so long as it happens soon.

What do you mean?

Don't you think I know they want to get rid of me?

Oh, Aunt Bea, you're... Go ahead and say it. I'm drunk.

Maybe that's why I'm drinking.

Because... I know the truth.

I can't speak for your husband, but I have talked to Dorothy enough to know

that she's really fond of you and very worried.

Oh, Paul, you're a fool.

Can't you see the girl's angle?

You're supposed to talk to me about my drinking.

Maybe even persuade me to go into a sanatorium for a nice long...

Perhaps it would help.

I know one thing it'd do.

It'd leave the two of them here, alone, together.

Now do you understand?

If you believe that, why do you allow the situation to go on?

Because I'm a fool, too.

I love my husband.

It's funny, isn't it?

Rich old dame, worthless young...

Great plot for a murder mystery.

Aunt Bea, the stigmata, we've been warned.

Something could happen.

Go ahead and say it. Say what?

The line.

It's in all the mysteries.

You've got to believe me. That's it.

That's the line.

You've got to believe me. That's what our hero always says to the police.

Just before the murder.

Nobody ever believes him.

And then, all of a sudden, before you know it...

Look, this is nothing to joke about. The picture gave us a

warning this afternoon.

Yes, the picture.

Then you do believe me?

Perhaps.

Well, aren't you afraid?

Sitting here alone like this, staring at that face?

Skulls have no faces, Paul.

And death has no terrors. Not for me.

Death is just... a business

partner.

business partner.

Of course, that's what he is.

I made a fortune working with death.

He's in all my stories. Oh, he can't scare me.

Listen to me for the last time. You've got to get rid of that picture.

We'll talk about it tomorrow.

Now go on upstairs to bed.

What about you?

I'll be up in just a little while.

Well, what are you waiting for?

Go to bed.

I don't like the idea of you being here all alone.

I'm not alone.

I've got all the company I need.

Here's to you, old buddy, buddy.

Aunt Bea, I don't want to make a mess. Oh, leave me alone.

Hey, that's better.

Just the two of us. Nice and cozy.

Well, here's...

I'm coming.

Hurry, hurry.

I couldn't sleep.

I heard a noise in the hall, so I came out, and that's when I saw... What's the

matter?

Sorry to put you through this, folks. An inquest can be pretty rough.

We understand, Sergeant.

Under the circumstances, you had no choice.

Well, at any rate, it's over now.

I just want to stop and say thanks for your cooperation.

And to offer my condolences to you, sir.

Thank you.

And to you.

Your aunt was a wonderful woman.

Yes, she'll be missed.

Sergeant, before you go, there's something I must ask you.

Yes?

The coroner's jury brought in a verdict of accidental death.

Do you accept it? What else could it be?

Are you hinting? I'm not hinting anything. I'm asking the sergeant a

question.

Do you accept that verdict?

Yes, I do.

We all know she'd been drinking.

Stairway was dark. She stumbled. I'm not talking about how she died.

I'm talking about why.

What do you mean, why?

Sergeant, the picture warned us something was going to happen. Please,

you're only upsetting yourself.

The sergeant knows all about the picture.

Believe me, miss, we did everything we could.

The lab man went over the picture with X-ray and microphotography.

There wasn't a trace of blood.

But we saw it.

Paul, tell him.

I already have. I'm afraid he doesn't believe me any more than Aunt Bea did.

But it's true. Dorothy's right.

There is a curse on the picture. That's why my aunt died.

If there was only some way I could prove it to you.

Believe me, if you find out anything, anything at all, I'll be glad to listen.

Meanwhile, the verdict stands.

I'm sorry, miss.

May I show you out, sergeant?

Paul, I'm frightened.

There's nothing to be afraid of. It's all over now.

Is it?

Maybe it's just begun.

You're imagining things.

The picture is real, and the blood was real.

And Gerald is real.

Gerald?

Oh, you didn't know about him, did you? The way he was always after me.

Oh, Paul, he only married you around for her money.

Dorothy, that's a very harsh accusation. You have no proof.

Your aunt is dead.

That's proof enough for me.

You told her to get rid of the picture. Oh, you were wrong.

She should have gotten rid of Gerald. You don't know what you're saying. Oh,

yes, I do.

I tell you, it isn't safe to stay in the same house with that man.

Now, you can do what you like, but I'm leaving.

Leaving?

What's this all about, my dear? You can't leave now.

We have a visitor.

Sir?

I don't understand.

Who is this man?

Mr. Phillips is my late wife's attorney.

He's here to read the will.

A necessary formality.

Now, if you'll be seated, we can proceed.

You may use the desk if you like.

Thank you.

Well, I believe that concludes our business.

Are there any questions?

Let me make sure I've got this straight now.

She left everything to me. Exactly.

You're the sole heir.

Well, that hardly seems fair.

Paul here, he's their only living blood relation.

I assure you, the will was carefully and legally executed.

As I told you, she made it out the week after you returned from your honeymoon.

She loved you very deeply, Mr. Keller. Yes, I know. Shall I see you out? If you

wish.

Interesting painting you have here.

Yes. I couldn't help but notice how the eyes seem to move.

Eyes? But there are no eyes in the picture.

That's odd.

I could have sworn all the time I was reading the will that the figure in the

painting was watching me. Yes.

Are you sure you won't change your mind?

Quite sure.

I wish you weren't going.

I wish you were.

Paul, it isn't safe to be alone with him.

Oh, I promised I'd stay on over the weekend with him.

Well, be very careful.

I'll call you in a few days when I get back to town.

Here, I'll take you down to the car, will you?

Try this.

Thanks.

Water? Do you know I haven't closed my eyes since Bea died?

I'm afraid to.

I'm afraid if I do, I'll see... this.

Forget it. It's just a picture. How can I?

The warning?

The curse?

B was right. Superstitious nonsense.

But you said so yourself.

It's evil.

There was blood on the scythe.

Not on the scythe, Gerald. On my finger. I never touched the painting.

It was all a trick.

I had to have an excuse to see B again.

Dear Aunt Bea, so rich and so selfish.

Only one way of getting any money out of her.

By inheritance.

But I inherited the estate.

So you did.

But it won't do you any good, I'm afraid.

Once you're dead, I'm the only remaining relative.

What's that?

I just typed out your confession for the police.

My confession?

You admit you pushed her down the stairs.

But you killed her.

I'd never sign that.

You already have.

Remember the autograph you gave me when I first arrived?

You'll never get away with this. I'll deny everything. You won't be able to,

Gerald.

You see, it's more than just a confession.

It's a suicide note.

Suicide?

Exactly. How do you feel?

Sleeping pill.

Police.

I'll tell her.

Operator, give me the police.

Well, thanks for your statement, Mr. Graves.

That's all right.

I guess there's nothing more to be said.

At least now we know the truth.

Yes, now we know.

You plan on staying on here in case I want to get in touch with you later?

Actually, I plan to go back to my apartment in town. You can reach me

there. I can't say that I blame you.

Uh, Mr.

Graves. Yes?

About that picture.

What about it?

I've been doing some thinking since you told me about that curse. Oh, Sergeant,

we know how my aunt died.

The picture had nothing to do with it. It's only a painting.

Oh, I suppose you're right.

Just between the two of us, I'm glad you don't plan on staying in this house with

it alone.

Well, good night.

Thank you.

I was driving down the coast highway when I heard the report.

Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

There's nothing to worry about. The police just left.

You're leaving?

Yes. Now we can go back together.

Paul, just a moment.

What is it?

The picture.

You can forget about it.

That's just it. I can't forget about it.

From the moment I heard about Gerald, I knew what had to be done.

There's nothing has to be done.

I've taken care of it all.

You've destroyed it?

No, of course not. I haven't touched it.

Well, if you won't, I will.

It's evil.

Dorothy, wait.

Paul, this mustn't happen again. We'll get rid of it before we leave. We'll

burn it in the fireplace.

No.

Please don't go in there!

There's nothing to fear. There's no curse.

Your aunt is dead, Gerald is dead, and you may die.

I made it up to frighten them.

It's just a picture, that's all. An old picture. It doesn't really bleed.

You made it up.

Yes, there's no curse.

What you understand, don't you? It was the only way.

Now everything is mine.

The house, money, the picture, everything.

I'll share it with you, the money and the secret.

What's the matter?

I told you, don't be afraid. There's no curse.

Thank heavens you came back. You saw your car. I thought we'd better

investigate.

She's in here.

Bye.