Original subtitles

(drum roll)

(gong dings)

(drum roll)

(gong dings)

(cacophonous orchestra tuning)

(baton tapping)

[Conductor] Gentlemen, can you all see my baton?

[Orchestra] Yes!

[Musician] No, the aspidistra's in the way.

(lively music)

(crowd chattering)

(motor chugs)

(motor pops and sputters to life)

Keep clear of the wheels!

Disengaging the brake!

Now keep clear, won't you, madam?

Now, please, if you won't mind!

(crowd shouting goodbyes)

- Thank you, Bultitude. - Goodbye,

and thank you for coming.

What do you want?

What it is, Bowler?

A lot of people to see you, sir.

I don't like the look of them.

Look like a lot of nosy parkers to me.

Come to make inquiries regarding-

-Yes. Yes, I did have an appointment.

You never told me.

You must've forgotten, Bowler.

I never forget nothing.

All right, get to your room.

Well, don't say I didn't warn ya.

(Bowler grumbling)

Bowler is getting a little old,

but then, aren't we all?

It was my eldest son's wedding today.

He finally wrung a consent out of Dulcie Grimstone.

You may have read about it.

It was an extremely fashionable wedding.

Thank you so much!

- Oh, goodbye, Mrs.- - It's been simply delightful.

How very delightful to meet you again,

if only for such a short time.

That was Mrs. Willoughby, I believe.

The Duke of Ealing Broadway was among the guests.

(laughs) Very old friend of mine.

But I digress.

Come in, please.

We will go into the drawing room where it is warm.

Be kind enough to close the front door behind you.

(door shuts)

Eh, don't knock yourself on this.

It all started some 20 years ago in this very room.

The furniture may seem a little strange to you,

but after the amazing events of the year 1896,

I somehow never had the heart to change it.

I will now tell you the story

which I have kept from the press for so many years.

It is a story so full of bitter humiliation to me

that I should never dream of divulging it

if I had not felt so much happier afterwards.

And there is no guarantee

that it could not happen to any one of you.

Know then that my late wife, bless her,

had a ne'er-do-well brother, Marmaduke Paradine.

This rascal, whose taste for Eastern adventure

was stimulated by the fact that he was wanted

by the police of most Western countries,

found himself in the spring of the year 1895

in Battledore, India,

living on the generosity of the military community.

At that time, he went under the name of, I believe,

the Honourable Esme Montfalcon.

The Honourable Louis Montfalcon.

Do get your facts right, please!

(tiger growls)

Ah, Ambrose, this looks interesting.

It is the Temple of the Laughing Hyena,

headquarters of an obscure religious sect

who worship laughing hyena.

(worshipers laughing and hooting)

What's the time, Bindabun?

Bombay, it is three to 11 o'clock.

Yokohama, 2:30.

Dallas, Texas, 20 minute to seven.

Charing Cross Road, wet and windy.

Thank you so much.

Do you think it's worthwhile,

us becoming religious, Ambrose?

Now don't do anything rash, Montfalcon.

Don't forget we came here to shoot the tiger.

These people are very touchy.

Look at that.

Morning service must just be over.

(worshipers laughing)

(speaking foreign language)

(speaking foreign language)

(priest laughs)

What's the guv say?

He say the hyena god in the temple

have magic eye worth million rupees.

Will we enter, inspect it?

Inspect it!

What does he take us for?

No, no, no, I implore you!

The mutiny started for less than this!

Nonsense! Follow me!

(monkeys chittering)

Tourists.

(dancer wolf whistles)

(suspenseful, whimsical music)

Million rupees! Well.

Hmm, yes.

Which eye is it?

(speaking foreign language)

The left.

Montfalcon, don't be a cad, sir.

I am not a cad!

I am an empire builder of the old school.

Where are the men with guts?

And where is my chisel?

And while you're about it, find out what these girls

are doing later on tonight.

(speaking foreign language)

I say, Ambrose, it's screwed in.

(suspenseful music)

- Good gracious, Montfalcon! - The other eye winked at me!

I don't wonder, sir.

It's just another example of British engineering genius.

Look at this. "John Donaldson and Company.

Sanitary and domestic fittings, Sheffield."

(worshipers wailing)

Come along, Ambrose.

Well, Montfalcon, I admire your pluck,

but I think you behave like a rotter,

stealing people's eyes.

And especially when they're obtainable in Britain.

Priest say eye ancient Indian magic stone.

Only fitting made in England.

When idol wink, stone bring bad luck to thief.

- Rubbish! - Ah!

But you haven't been in India as long as I have, Montfalcon.

Surely, Ambrose, you don't believe

in all this taradiddle, do you?

I should hand the eye back like a good fellow.

Never! Come on, Ambrose.

Where's the elephant?

Gone!

It's begun!

Rot!

We'll just have to make our way back on foot, that's all.

Into the bush? You're mad!

I don't know about you, Ambrose, but personally, I'm off!

Er, Montfalcon!

Er, wait for me! Wait for me!

(suspenseful tribal music)

[Paul] Paradine soon began to realise that hyenas,

even if not worth worshipping , were worth respect.

(hyenas howling)

His unhappy friend Ambrose never reached Battledore alive.

He was eaten by a tiger a short distance from the Kantu.

(tiger roars)

(Ambrose screams) (worshipers cheer)

December saw him at Southampton,

where he somehow penetrated the customs and the police

without being recognised as the notorious perpetrator

of the Bishopsgate scandal in 1881.

He was just thanking his lucky stars,

thinking he was safe, when...

(trunk thuds)

Yes.

This finally convinced him

that the late, lamented Ambrose was right

and prompted him to perform the one generous act

in his perfidious life.

I have brought you a present from India, Paul.

Thank you very much, but I don't want a present from you.

Unfortunately, Bowler did not recognise you

after a gratifying interval of seven years.

Otherwise, if he had,

you would not have set foot in this house.

Paul, you have absolutely no family feeling.

I will thank you not to call me Paul.

Bultitude, you have a heart of stone.

Well, what do you expect

after your shabby manipulations on the stock exchange?

You're dishonest, sir.

That may be so.

Nevertheless, we are brothers-in-law.

Understand, Paradine, once and for all

that I married your sister, not you.

I contracted a marriage of love

with a lady who is how unhappily defunct.

With her lamented passing,

all connection with the Paradine family

ceased, finished, and came to an end.

There, now go!

Only if you accept my gift.

I can't help asking myself the motive

which prompts this extraordinary generosity.

Yes, I think I can tell you.

Brotherly feeling.

You're not short of money?

I never say no, since you mention it,

- my nearest and dearest. - Hmm?

However, I must make it a condition

of my departure for good and all

that you accept this little gift.

What is it?

The Garuda Stone.

What?

This stone once constituted the left eye

of an Indian idol.

It is said to possess magic properties.

To whoever owns the stone,

they shall be given everlasting peace,

prosperity, and happiness.

Nonsense!

And so it is with a deep sense of loss,

dear brother-in-law,

that I bequeath to you my peace and prosperity,

and yes, my happiness.

I don't want the confounded thing.

Take it. I insist.

Offend not the spirit of the laughing hyena.

Oh, very well, if it'll make you go.

Goodbye forever.

Don't forget to shut the door.

One day, I shall be understood. Till then...

Thank goodness for that.

Come in.

Ah, so you're off at last, eh?

Well, holidays can't last forever.

And by a merciful degree of providence,

they don't last quite forever.

Well, goodbye, goodbye. Be a good boy this time.

No scraps, mind you, hmm?

What are you standing there for?

Either stay in or out, one thing or the other.

I simply can't abide a draught.

Dad?

[Paul] Yes?

Could I wait here till the cab comes?

Must you? Have you said your farewells to your brother?

- Yes, Dad. - And the nanny?

- Yes, Dad. - Oh.

Well, I suppose you'd better sit down.

I hope the cab isn't long.

Are you waiting for Mrs. Verlane?

Yes.

No! I am thinking of your train.

Oh, dear.

What's the matter?

You should be delighted to be returning to Dr. Grimstone's.

It'll give you a chance to redeem yourself

after your appalling report of last term.

I may as well tell you that I have dispatched a note

to Dr. Grimstone himself,

couched in the strongest possible terms that,

should you once again neglect your studies

and exert a complacent,

rebellious influence on your colleagues,

he would be well advised to remember

some of King Solomon's very sensible remarks on the subject.

(Paul chuckles)

It is a sign of a sterling character in Dr. Grimstone

that he's been lenient thus far.

I warn you, this clemency will not continue.

Where is that cab?

Dad, is this the magic stone?

That is a piece of worthless malachite

that your scurvy uncle Marmaduke brought from India.

How did you know about it? Were you listening at the door?

Yes.

How dare you, sir!

I have a good mind to give you a note

to deliver to the worthy doctor

so that he may deal with you on arrival.

- Dad, may I have it? - Certainly not.

Oh, Dad, I do want it.

What on earth could you want with it?

It's magic!

Rubbish! Give it here.

Dad, I could swap it.

- What for? - Well-

- A rabbit, eh? Or a mouse.

No, certainly not, sir. Give it here this instant.

Dad, could I have some pocket money, please?

Have you none left over from last term?

No, Dad.

You see, there's the plate on Sunday, then there's the cab-

- You know perfectly well that Bowler

has orders to pay for your cab.

However, I suppose you must have some.

Although your education has cost me enough already

without all this additional expense.

Now, here's ten...

Five shillings.

And uncommonly liberal allowance for a young scamp like you.

There, now, unless my ears deceive me,

there's your cab approaching.

Dad, there's something I want to tell you before I go.

Well, make it...

What is it? You haven't much time.

I want you to let me leave Grimstone's

at the end of the term.

Let you leave Dr. Grimstone's?

Oblige me by giving him his full title

when you speak of him.

And excellent school.

I never read a better prospectus in my life.

You've never been there!

You don't know what it's like! (sobs)

No!

This is no time for tears, just as your cab's arrived.

Dick, my boy, I...

It's so easy for the young

to feel that they're being victimised and ill-used by fate,

but believe an older man, Dick, my boy,

believe me when I tell you that much as you envy me,

I only wish that at this moment,

I could be a boy again like you.

Yes, I should really like that, Dick, my boy.

Only what's the use of wishing? (chuckles)

(Dick bawling)

My school days were the happiest time of my life.

Yes. (laughs)

(Dick bawling)

But those days will never come back.

Those happy, carefree days of yore. (chuckles)

Because I'm an old man.

(Paul clears throat)

I'm an old... (coughs)

(Dick whimpers)

Why are you staring so?

(Paul clears throat)

I've been smoking too many cigars.

That's what it is.

(Dick laughing)

You seem to be amused.

(laughs) What's the matter?

How do you feel?

[Paul] Extremely fit!

(Dick laughing) (Paul clearing throat)

[Dick] Oh, dear!

You always were an impudent young puppy, sir!

I wash my hands of you.

Whenever I do try and give you the benefit of my experience,

it's received with ridicule!

Oh, dear!

(Dick laughing) (eerie music)

Leave the room, sir!

Where is that cab?

What is Bowler doing?

(laughing) Oh, dear!

Go and look at yourself in the mirror, Dad.

It'll make you roar!

Have you been playing some schoolboy trick on me?

Because I warn you, I'm in no mood for...

(Dick laughing)

(eerie music)

[Dick] Oh, dear!

(Dick laughing)

Richard!

My moustache!

It's the stone.

What is?

You had it in your hand.

You wished you were a boy again, like me.

Good gracious!

You're right.

Confound Paradine.

Well, if the thing's a wishing stone,

I could put everything right

by just wishing myself back again.

I shall be laughing at all this by and by.

I know I shall.

I wish I were back.

Well?

No.

[Bowler] I'll bring him out now, Mr. Clegg.

There's Bowler, coming for you! For me!

For us.

(knock at door)

[Bowler] Cab's loaded, sir.

A moment, Bowler.

(doorknob rattles)

I'll send the young scallywag out presently, Bowler.

What's going on in there?

I'm trying to help Dad-

- I'm giving the boy some good advice.

Phew, that was a narrow squeak.

Dad, why don't you let me try to wish you back?

It must be a stone that has only one wish per person.

Ah!

You must be right!

Bless you, Dick.

You're a good boy.

You shall have a half a sovereign.

Here, take the stone,

and wish your poor old father himself again.

Have you wished?

Not yet.

Then do so this instant, sir!

Will you do as I say, sir?

The cab is waiting!

I expect obedience from you, sir!

Don't be in such a hurry.

You may not like it after all when I've done it.

What are you suggesting?

I wish...

No, no, no!

I wish I was a man, just like you were just now.

(Dick gasps)

(eerie music)

Oh deary, I didn't mean...

(Paul screams)

(dramatic music)

(doorknob rattles)

(knock at door)

A mom...

A moment, Bowler.

(Dick giggles)

Dick! Dick, my boy. (laughs)

Don't let's drive a good joke too far, my boy.

Let's shake hands and see

if we can't find a way out of this.

There's only one way out for you, Father.

What's that?

Through the front door.

You don't mean to say...

No, no, my boy!

No time to lose!

You are going back to a most excellent establishment,

where you will find all the comforts of home.

You will once more take part

in the happy games and lessons of boyhood.

And you'll find your chums easy to get on with,

so long as you don't give yourself airs.

They won't stand airs.

Now, goodbye, my boy. Bless you.

My compliments to old Grimmy, remember? (giggles)

Bowler, I object,

with all the power at my disposal.

Come on, young sir.

No time for speechifying.

But Bowler, I am my father.

Can you not see that? Are you blind?

I'm afraid we shall have the usual trouble, Bowler.

Bowler, you are dismissed!

Yes, I know, young sir.

I'll go and pack me bag

just as soon as we get you to the station.

(Dick giggles)

Let me go, sir!

Release my lobe!

(Bowler chuckles)

(Bowler growls)

(Paul whimpers)

(Bowler chuckles)

(bell chimes)

(door shuts)

(cab clopping away)

(Dick blows sharply)

(whimpers) Yes, sir?

Alice, how much money does Father...

I mean, how much money do I pay you every week?

Five shillings a week, sir.

Five shill... (laughs)

That's all he's got for the whole term, mangy beggar.

Will that be all, sir?

You're very pretty.

From now on you'll get five pounds a week.

Five pounds, sir?

Come round here and give me a kiss. (Alice squeals)

What are you screaming for, silly?

All right, then.

Don't give me a kiss then if you don't want to. Spoilsport.

Here, run out to Codger's

and get me a guinea's worth of sherbet.

(Alice squeals)

What's the matter now?

(Alice squeals)

I suppose that's what Father used to call

"the servant problem."�

(steam whistle toots)

(locomotive chugging)

[Driver] Whoa a bit!

Where to, sir?

[Clegg] 743 Market, Broadwell.

Stop!

Clegg, once and for all,

will you take me back home?

I'll pay you handsomely.

What do you mean by "handsomely"?

A sovereign?

Oh, don't make me laugh, sir.

Grin and bear it, Master Dick. Grin and bear it.

Well, I'll give you five sovereigns then.

Will you now?

Yes.

Where's my money?

Good gracious!

Five shillings!

Goon.

Governor's been a bit stingy this time, eh?

Hello, Bultitude.

There, you'll feel better

now you've found your little friend.

We've all got to go and get labelled.

Clegg!

[Driver] Gee up!

I have no intention of being labelled.

Just trying to find a cab to take me back home.

Home? But the hols are over.

Kindly refrain from addressing me.

Well, what's the matter with you? What have I done?

Nothing as yet.

I just don't happen to have the pleasure

of your acquaintance.

Consequently, I find that we have very little in common.

I say, Bultitude!

Kindly refrain from presuming

that you know me on terms of intimacy.

I wish you'd go away and talk to someone of your own age.

That's a good one.

Say, how much grub have you brought back with you?

Grub? What is grub?

Well, tuck.

Eats.

Food!

If you mean food, why don't you say so,

you illiterate boy?

Grub is the embryonic form of a moth.

It has nothing whatsoever to do with food.

Oh, stop humbugging, Bultitude. For goodness' sakes-

- Ah! Thank goodness.

I won't have to enjoy your company a moment longer.

Are you free, cabbie, my man?

[Driver] Where to, sir?

Westbourne Terrace.

[Grimstone] What, Bultitude, back home so soon?

Dr. Grimstone! There's been a mistake!

Indeed there has, my boy, a serious mistake.

School lies in that direction,

not towards Westbourne Terrace.

Your father has written to me.

In future I shall know exactly how to deal with you.

The child must not be spoiled.

Troupe, step out!

[Paul] What could I do?

My only course was to insinuate my intellectual maturity

on Dr. Grimstone's mind.

Well, boys,

you have suffered an unusual protracted vacation,

owing to the unprecedented severity of the weather.

You will therefore be glad to hear

that I have reduced the Easter holidays

by a week in compensation.

I am uncommonly glad to hear it, Dr. Grimstone.

Boys have far too many holidays as it is.

There's no joke, I can assure you,

having a great idle boy hanging about the place,

eating his empty head off.

This is indeed finding Saul among the prophets.

Your sentiments, Bultitude, if sincere,

I repeat, if sincere,

are remarkably creditable to one of your young years.

But I am bound to say I must view them

with the utmost suspicion.

I don't why you should take it upon yourself

to question my sincerity, Dr. Grimstone.

I have my reasons, sir. I have my reasons.

Never in the course of a long pedagogic career

have I met a small boy

with so much natural wickedness in his heart.

(boy sobbing)

Dr. Grimstone,

far be it from me to complain without good reason,

but would you tell the boy on the right

either to control his feelings

or to cry into his pocket handkerchief?

His infernal whiffling and sniffling

is nothing less than unnatural in a boy of his size.

Keffen, are you crying?

(stammers) No, sir.

I think I've caught a cold, sir.

I am uncommonly glad to hear it,

for I should not like to think

that you are starting your new life

in a spirit of captiousness and rebellion.

I'll have no mutineers in my camp, sir.

I intend to establish a spirit of trustful happiness

and unwavering content in my school,

if I have to flog every boy in it.

By the way, did I hear you say your name was Keffen?

Surely you must be Jordan Keffen's boy.

Why, bless my soul.

Your father and I, my little man,

were friends in the days before you were born or thought of.

(laughs) Nor thought of.

Yes, he was in a very small way in those days. Very small.

Wretched Bultitude!

I have no words to express the pain and disgust I feel

at the heartless way you persist

in mimicking a fond and estimable parent.

(boys cough)

Dr. Grimstone!

I must positively ask you either to pull the window up

or to change places with me.

My doctor tells me that the night air

at this time of the year

is simply fatal to a man of my constitution.

Simply fatal!

Bultitude, I must warn you

you're behaving very imprudently.

Dr. Grimstone, do you encourage your boys

to make common nuisances of themselves in public?

Some scarcely seem to require encouragement, Bultitude.

What is the matter now?

The boy opposite me

is polluting the already arctic atmosphere

by sucking an atrocious peppermint lozenge.

Is what Bultitude tells me true, Coggs?

I bought 'em at a chemist, sir.

"Them"?

Does that imply there is more than one

of the pestilent pastilles?

(tense music)

Anathema.

Bultitude, I'm much obliged to you.

A severe cold in the head has prevented me

from detecting this insidious act of self-indulgence.

About which I shall have to say more in future.

Your model courage and promptness in denouncing the evil

are much to be commended.

Please do not mention it, Dr. Grimstone.

Uh, perhaps you will allow me to show my gratitude

with the gift of a Havana cigar.

You do smoke, don't you?

I always like a whiff after dinner, you know?

An Havana, sir?

Dr. Grimstone, once more I must summon your assistance.

Some young hooligan in this carriage has stolen my cigars.

(Dick coughing)

- It's no good, Bowler. - These cigars make me cough.

Same as we've had for 20 years, sir. Cabinet Montezumas.

Is that what I usually smoke? (coughs)

Well, I've never known you to smoke nothing different.

Well, I must be mad.

For 20 years you've been smoking Montezumas-

- Throw 'em away. Smoke 'em yourself.

Give 'em to Rollie to play with.

Cigars to the baby, sir?

And Bowler, I want a large stock

of peppermint lozenges laid in.

Not McPherson's, they're too weak.

And not Richardson's Clear Mintyfruits,

they're not sweet enough.

I want Adams and Bochur's Peppizudes.

I'll not put up with another brand.

Yes, sir.

And Bowler, I want ten dozen bottles

of ginger pop in case of guests.

You understand?

Ginger pop, sir.

What's the matter, Bowler? You look faint.

Why don't you say anything, Alice?

Me, sir?

Oh!

(laughs) Sir, if you were to go to bed...

Bed? Now?

My bedtime is 10 o'clock from now on,

and I will have my way on that point.

(laughs awkwardly) Yes, sir.

You sure Dr. Chawner couldn't-

- Dr. Chawner? I wouldn't have him in the house dead.

He's your best friend, sir!

No, he isn't, his son is a mean bully

and a cowardly custard and a rotten goody-goody,

and I'll not have the father in the house.

What are you staring at, you two?

I'm not losing weight, am I? I don't...

Didn't lose more. No.

What is the matter, Bowler?

I shall lose my temper in a moment.

Eh, aren't you going to change?

Change, me? Why should I?

- Well, sir, before- -Yes?

Well, you always like to look tidy, sir.

You haven't much time. (knock at door)

- There she is! - Who?

Alice expressed herself badly.

- Who! - Mrs. Verlane, sir.

Oh, hmm, tell her I'm out.

[Florence] Is Mr. Bultitude in the drawing room?

Too late, sir. Shall I show her in?

Oh no, Jumbo. Don't rush to greet me.

What?

It's all over between us.

Jumbo.

Did you hear what I said?

Yes. What's all over, Mrs. Verlane?

Oh!

Since when have a been just "Mrs. Verlane" to you?

- Alice. - Yes?

Answer the door if anyone calls.

I'm going for Dr. Chawner.

I only hope we're not too late.

That's six times he's asked me to kiss him!

You take an unhealthy interest

in telling that story, Alice.

I'm not gonna speak to you again about it.

Well, can I help it if he finds me good-lookin'?

Remember, Alice, he's not all there.

Never take advantage of a sick man.

(clucks) Oh...

Very well, Mr. Bultitude.

I'll tell you something

that will make you take notice of me.

I am in love with another.

I'm in love with Dulcie Grimstone.

Dulcie who?

Dulcie Grimstone, the most beautiful girl in the world.

Which row of the chorus is she in?

I'll scratch her eyes out!

She's the headmaster's daughter.

What? Which headmaster?

Oh, dear, the headmaster of...

Um, she just told me her father was a headmaster.

That's all. It's all right, she's older than you are,

about 50 and ugly.

Oh, Paul.

You've always been so sweet to me in the past.

Can't we forget our little differences

- and start all over again? - Hmm?

I'll always remember that glorious bunch

of wild violets you sent me at the stage door.

You were so shy and so sweet.

Do you remember how you told me about your first marriage

and how tragically it had ended and how lonely you were?

You were so vain, you darling!

You told me your boy was quite a baby

and kept him away so that I shouldn't guess your age.

Oh, how you blushed when I found

he was a darling little fellow of 12.

Not so much of a darling little fellow.

And he's 13 and three quarters, nearly 13 and seven eighths.

Oh, Jumbo, my Jumbo!

Why won't you be sentimental?

- I never liked you. - Oh!

- Crybaby! - (Florence wails)

(glass crashes)

(rousing bugle call)

Rotter!

Was the bell not working at the front door?

(Florence sobs)

Fanny in tears!

You shall pay for this, sir.

You've got your cap on at the wrong angle.

It must've got caught in the curtains.

- What do you know about it? - I know all about soldiers.

Really?

You're Spooner's Light Horse, the Devil-May-Cares.

Glorious record at the Battle of Impalawao.

Were you there? I didn't see you.

Unfortunately not.

My age, you know. Too young.

Too young? Why, I was there.

Oh, I mean, yes, of course. Too old.

[Gosport] What is your regiment?

[Dick] I never had one.

Good gracious me, sir. Every man's got a regiment, right?

Well, I would've had one if I hadn't been keen

around driving railway chauffeurs.

I might just as well not be here.

Fanny, forgive me.

Fanny? I thought her name was Florence.

Don't insult the woman I love by subjecting her

to some amatory confusion in your debased mind.

Sir, there are times when words no longer suffice.

This is such a moment.

Name your time and place.

Why don't you stay to dinner tonight?

And your weapon, sir?

Oh, I see! You want to fight, grand.

I'm glad to see that you have some vestige of honour left.

Shall it be swords, pistols, or sabres?

Won't pillows do?

For your sake, I shall pretend

I did not hear that last remark.

I never like to think badly of a man

approaching the end of his life.

Oh, I see. What about swords?

Ha!

So be it.

You have inadvertently chosen my very weapon.

I pity you.

I suggest dawn at the north end of the round pond.

You will, of course, make all necessary arrangements

with your family undertaker before you come.

You big bully, fighting a man twice as small as you!

I'll make you pay for this! I've done it before!

Oh, Jumbo, you hero!

Fanny, words are useless now.

You have this evening to wrap up your affairs.

Don't worry, my darling, I shall book our usual table

at Romano's for tomorrow after the show.

Sir!

This is what I've always dreamed of.

Two men fighting for me! (laughs)

Come, Fanny!

And may the best man win.

Don't worry, my dear.

[Bowler] This way, quick, Dr. Chawner.

Hello, Bultitude.

[Dick] Good evening, Dr. Chawner.

Feeling well?

Fine, fine! I never felt better.

- Mm-hmm. - Alice! (kiss smacks)

Now, how about a little rest, eh, Bultitude?

- Rest? - By the sea, somewhere quiet.

Or a watering place? Lemington, Harrogate?

Nonsense, my fine fellow, nonsense.

I have to fight a duel tomorrow.

I see.

Have you have a lot of business worries lately?

I haven't a care in the world.

Stop him!

Oh, come now, Bultitude.

You forget 'm a stockholder in your company.

I know how things are going! (chuckles)

Will you be my second, Chawner? I may need a doctor.

[Chawner] Of course, of course.

Bowler, call Alice.

What are you shaking your head for?

Chawner, you're just about as nasty as your son.

My son?

Well, well! (chuckles)

My father. (laughs smarmily)

Yes.

Whenever affairs are a little tenuous in the city,

your father is the first to be affected by cold feet.

You're being very insulting about my old man.

I've a good mind to punch your face.

You provoke me by your insane jealousy.

I'm not jealous.

I'm in love with Dulcie Grimstone, that's all.

She's my girl, she's not yours.

I'm quite aware of that fact, you young hooligan.

But she has never been my...

That is to say,

she has never been the object of my affection.

Not because I don't happen to be that sort of a man,

if you follow me, but because I do not happen to know her!

Liar.

If you were my son, I'd box your ears for that remark!

Well, I'm not your son, so there.

Now, Chawner!

Was that fair?

To strike a smaller boy.

Reflect, Chawner, reflect.

I'm sorry, sir.

Empty words, Chawner, if I may say so.

Sorrow is so easy to express, so hard to feel.

Do you really feel sorry?

Yes, I do, sir.

Very well, then. Shake hands.

And smile.

(Blinkhorn chuckles)

Ah, if only all the world

understood the true spirit of forgiveness

and was prepared to turn the other cheek.

(Paul gasps)

You horrid, horrid boy!

To hit dear Dickie like that.

- Who's this? - Dulcie!

Go away! I'm not going to talk to you.

You can pour your own chocolate out.

There's your chocolate, Dickie.

Oh, Dickie, I have missed you so.

No, thank you. I cannot abide sweetmeats of any kind.

Perhaps I ought to explain-

- No one's looking now. Kiss me, quickly.

I shouldn't dream of doing anything as rash,

or indeed, as sordid.

What's the matter, sweetheart?

Why are you talking to me like that?

Look, I'm sure you're a well-mannered little girl,

but I cannot help feeling that your ebullience

is a little misplaced.

How horrid you are, Dickie!

So unlike yourself!

Don't start snuffling, I beg you!

I can't abide a snuffler.

(Dulcie wails)

Dulcie.

(Dulcie wailing) (bell clanging)

Every boy to his cot

to surrender himself to health-giving sleep,

that he may fling himself with a renewed zeal in the morning

into the complexities of the pons asinorum

and the vulgar fraction.

Any boy out of his cot in five minutes

will write out 2,000 times

the Greek, German, Latin, and French equivalents

of the verb "to dawdle," or "procrastinate."�

Eh, Chawner.

Highly commendable.

Move, at the double.

Black mark!

Disgusting! Revolting!

Indecent!

Wait a minute!

Passable.

Passable. Go on.

Go on.

- Passable. - Well, goodnight Grimstone.

I'll see- Impertinence!

Two black marks!

Now then, Bultitude, why did you sneak?

I had enough peppermints to last me the term.

Peppermints are an indulgence for growing boys.

I agree with Dr. Grimstone.

(grunts) How dare you, sir?

You little villain!

I'll have you in court for this!

In court, eh?

I'll have you know... (grunts)

I'm a personal friend of Mr. Justice Pollard.

In trouble, Dickie? Can I help you?

Help me, Chawner, and I'll talk to your father about you.

Yes, I'll help you.

(Paul groans)

[Student] Cavey! Here's old Grimmer!

(frantic music)

(boys snoring theatrically)

(drowsy music)

I have reason to believe that you, sir, are still awake,

in spite of my direct orders to the contrary.

In view of your appalling forwardness in some matters

and your abysmal backwardness in others,

you will kindly write out 683 times

the word "transubstantiation,�

spelling it both forwards and backwards on each occasion.

(boys snoring)

And now, goodnight.

In schola regnat pax.

Meaning, Coker?

Pack, um...

"I came, I saw, I conquered.�

Black mark, egregious imbecile!

It means, of course, "peace reigns in the school.�

Goodnight.

Any boy found sleepwalking without permission

will be soundly bashed.

[Paul] The night seemed to last for a very long time

and I think I was glad of it,

except that every moment of sleep

meant that fresh energy was being infused by nature

into the receptive muscles of my tormentors.

(suspenseful music)

(Chawner groans)

(tense music)

(Chawner murmurs softly)

(rousing marching music)

Order of seniority, please.

Great Scott.

Good Gladstone.

My godfathers.

Gosport?

Huh?

By the Lord Harry!

Exactly.

Here they come!

So it was true!

Of course! What did you think?

I thought it was all a part of your malady.

Thank goodness I did it.

Did what?

Nevermind.

My name is Margate, 43rd Duke.

I'm Bultitude, fourth form.

Is this, uh,

gentleman seconding you?

My name is Dr. Chawner.

(Margate groans)

This fellow worth fighting?

It's a question of honour, Margate.

I'm not thinking of you, Gosport.

I'm thinking of the regiment.

He's a Harrow man.

Are you positive?

I looked him up.

Do you know the rules of this game?

Rules? No!

I thought it was a jolly good old free-for-all.

Penny on the water, tuppence on the sea,

thruppence on the railway and out goes he.

No, this one.

Doctor, a word in your ear.

(Dick whistles merrily)

(boy whistling)

(Dick whistling)

Ah!

(Gosport sighs angrily)

Got a nasty temper, old Gosport.

Ooh.

What's it about? Woman?

Empire or Gaiety?

Metropolitan, Edgware Road.

Here.

What's that?

(boy whoops)

Ginge, you take your mob over there.

All the heavy artillery, come with me.

You ain't heavy artillery!

Who are you?

Highwaymen!

- Get out of it. - Come on, get down.

What are you up to, you young rascals?

You wait till I get down there.

Go on, hit the man when he's down!

Well, he ain't down yet!

Don't you know the rules of warfare?

Give us your hansom coach.

Well, you ain't gonna have our hansom coach.

We ain't gonna have what?

Here! Go on, get in there!

(boys clamouring)

(Gosport grunts and growls)

(Gosport grunts)

- Perce! - Yeah?

- Put 'em under that tree! - All right, boss.

Albert, you stay there, and if they get salty, clock 'em!

All right, boys, get in.

Here, ladies first.

Don't you know your manners?

And nobody's to touch that sherbet

what Mr. Bultitude's given us till after.

- Is that clear? - Yeah.

Now.

Nor the lollipops neither!

(boys grumble) Aw!

Hoorah.

(cheery music)

What the devil does Vincent think he's playing at?

Always was a sportsman at heart.

Wants a bit of feud. Don't blame him!

(all laughing)

On the question of superficial flesh wounds,

grazes, abrasions, penetrations, and amputations,

you as the doctor will step smartly forward

carrying a white...

Or off-white handkerchief,

affect a lightning diagnosis,

and retire if the wound is not mortal.

If, however, there is little hope,

you will wave your handkerchief three times

in an anticlockwise direction.

Remember, anticlockwise, that is important,

and engagement will be suspended.

Is that quite clear?

Eminently.

Very well. Let battle be given.

(Gosport grunting)

(Dick exhales deeply)

(Dick trumpeting merrily)

Now then, come along.

No dilly-dallying or shilly-shallying.

And take that grin off your face, second trombone.

This is a funeral rehearsal.

As you know, we all have many opportunities

of playing festive and joyful tunes.

We've already got the inter-regimental applause for it.

However, the colonel feels

that a spirit of slackness has entered into this unit,

and that's the cause of these early morning rehearsals

in full parade order. (musicians murmuring)

I'm doing the talking, bass tuber.

Right, "Handel's Largo."

And don't forget, men are dying right and left these days.

You never know when it's your turn.

Right, "Handel's Largo,"

and I want the watchwords to be "sadness,"

"nobility,"

"death."

(solemn music)

Och!

No privacy here.

One, two, three!

No, no!

Play.

Nevermind me, sir. Play!

- Do play. - Oh, come on, Gosport!

Come on then, let's get on with the duel.

He doesn't know how to play proper sport!

Wait for it. Wait for it.

One, two, three!

No, no!

They're looking.

Play. For goodness' sake, play.

- Come along, men. - Oh, do play.

Oh, come on, men.

Each pick your man, and when I give the word, I want-

- The overture to "The Merry Wives of Windsor."

The playing of the largo wasn't bad,

but not nearly soul-stirring enough.

Now, piccolo and cymbals,

I'm gonna give you something to grin about.

I want you all to smile.

Is that clear?

I'm warning you, second trombone.

Take that frown off your face.

A spirit of carefree gaiety and lighthearted abandon.

Or else!

From letter E. One two...

(bright music)

(whistle tweets)

(whistle peeps)

Ah!

Come on, now. Element of surprise.

En garde.

Play.

(lords shouting)

One two, one two, one two, forward!

(bright orchestral music)

You rotter, Chawner!

Bultitude! Come back!

Face it! For honour!

Brigade!

Form

crown!

I advise you gentlemen to come quietly.

I've a highly trained, efficient force at my disposal.

(chuckles) Outnumbered.

Scoundrel!

Ah!

There he goes!

Have at him!

(lords yell)

What's the matter with you, eh?

Frightened of a little bit of noise?

Come on now! After 'em!

[Chawner] Bultitude, consider-

- Point down the road.

No, turn back! The cab's for you!

(lords shouting)

One two, one two, come on!

(lively orchestral music)

A hundred lollipops if you get me home.

No, Bultitude!

(lords shouting)

Stop 'em! Come back, gentlemen!

Stop it!

Here, we gonna stand for this?

No!

Come on now, boys!

(boys shouting)

(dramatic music) (crowd clamouring)

Nevermind about all that noise!

(crowd clamouring) (rousing music)

(lords shouting)

(dramatic music)

I'll keep you here all day if you don't get this right.

(music playing off-key)

(cacophonous, off-key music) (crowd clamouring)

Order of seniority, please.

(music stops)

We was giving a rendering

of the overture to "The Merry Wives of Windsor"

by Otto Nicolai, the distinguished Prussian composer.

Er, when we was interrupted, milord.

Could it not be that it was owing to your playing

that the row had occurred?

It was a well-nigh perfect rendering.

I am not suggesting that the music was not well played.

I'm suggesting it was not liked as music.

What was the music played?

[Barrister] The overture

to the "Merry Wives of Windsor," milord.

Overture to what?

"The Merry Wives of Windsor," milord.

Oh.

Uh, how does that go?

? La-la-la, la-la-la la-la-la-la-la ?

(gallery singing melody)

(barrister whistling along)

Silence!

? La-la-la-la ?

I will not have indiscriminate singing in my court.

One bar would've been sufficient.

That is an important point.

I have noted it.

Seems an unattractive tune.

Opinions vary, milord.

Mine never do.

It was I who summoned the police, Your Lordship.

(old men applaud)

What was your idea in summoning the police?

I hoped to avert a possible tragedy.

Did you warn the parties concerned

that you would take such a step?

Well, there was no time.

24 hours?

We had a word for that sort of thing in my public school.

What did you call them?

Sneaks.

We called them snadgers.

Where were you?

[Barrister] Wellington.

I was at Gilbert.

Did you know old Gardener Waybridge?

Intimately!

What's happened to him?

Last I heard, he was tea planting in India.

Really?

Really? Charming fellow.

Oh, yes!

Stuffy Gardener Waybridge

is the most unpopular man in Mysore!

An awful bounder!

- Hear, hear. - (lords murmur agreement)

If you don't shut up...

Silence!

I will not have my assessment of character criticised.

I can put you in prison for less than that.

(old men applaud)

Thank you.

Thank you.

Now, uh,

where were we?

We done it 'cause he gave us sherbet all round.

Who is "he"?

Uncle Paul.

"Uncle"?

Well, Mr. Bultitude.

Milord, is it not a clear example

of the tenderheartedness,

the simplicity of the defendant's character,

that he was willing to impart a present

of sherbet all round

to 20 small boys many years his junior

and several classes below him in the social scale?

I submit is was bribery, milord!

Bribery?

But why choose little boys, milord?

Why not hard assassins?

Who can be had at any time,

as both our main political parties well know.

(old men applaud)

Little boys are cheaper.

They demand sherbet, not hard cash.

Mr. Bultitude is not a poor man!

He may be avaricious.

Oh!

Oh, I say!

[Urchin] He gave us other things as well.

What?

Bought us a pony and trap,

a box of fireworks for Guy Fawkes,

a dozen white mice, a couple of guinea pigs,

two dozen air pistols, hundred yards of catapult elastic,

four shotguns with ammunition, ten spanners,

a jemmy, a bag, and two dozen pairs of soft shoes.

I forget what else.

Milord, my case rests.

(gallery murmurs)

Thank you.

Have you found out about my train to Rickmansworth?

2:43, milord.

Gracious!

Gentlemen of the jury, your duty is clear.

If you need any assistance in coming to a decision

that Mr. Bultitude is not guilty,

and that the wretched Earl of Gosport is utterly guilty,

I will gladly give it.

If you have already come to the right conclusion,

you will tell me so without more ado and we may adjourn.

(whimsical music)

Gentlemen of the jury, how say you?

Is Paul Bultitude, stockbroker,

of 117 Westbourne Terrace in the borough of Paddington,

guilty or not guilty?

And speak up.

(stammering) Not, not, not, not, not...

Exactly.

And how say you is Horace, Arthur, Desmond, uh, Lucas...

Oh dear, oh dear.

Is Gosport guilty or not guilty?

(stammering) Gu, go, go, go, go...

As I thought.

I am satisfied that justice has been done.

Lord Gosport,

I have no alternative but to impose the maximum penalty.

You will be fined

seven shillings and six pence.

(gallery applauds)

Oh, you dear, lovely hero!

Oh!

(gallery gasps)

(boys shouting)

(Paul grunts)

Oh, you did that deliberately, you beastly boy!

He deserved it.

Take due notice. What is it, Dulcie?

Look, dear, look.

The new Financial Times. It's just arrived.

- [Paul] "Paul Bultitude..." - (reading quietly)

"Entire fortune in the new invention of Professor Grim..."

"Horseless carriage. The new company's reg..."

(Paul moans)

I haven't hurt him, have I?

[Student] Cavey!

Score 2-1!

White's leading!

Run!

Good, good!

Good!

Come, boys! Run!

Keep it up! This way!

Come along! That's right, ball to...

Where is the ball?

- There it is. - Come on, boys! Keep running!

- Where's the ball? - No slacking there!

Come on now! Kick!

That's right! Come on!

Jolland, to you!

No, this is...

Where is the ball, Mr. Blinkhorn?

Why, that's funny, sir.

It was here a moment ago.

Has any boy secreted the ball?

Bultitude, you look your usual guilty self

and quite unnaturally rotund.

What are you secreting under your jersey?

- Nothing, Father. - Silence, Dulcie!

I'll have no intercession on behalf of the criminal.

Out with it!

There's the ball, Father. Behind you.

My interested is no longer centred

on a quest for the ball.

I feel that I have detected some evil.

What is it? Illicit literature?

No doubt one of Mr. Charles Dickens' forbidden instalments.

Upon my word, Bultitude, what's this?

The Financial Times?

My Financial Times?

The new Financial Times?

What is the meaning of this?

I had to, sir. Look at page one.

For the moment, I prefer to look at you.

Can you give me one valid reason

why I should not put you on bread and water for a month?

My reason is on page one!

I'm mad with worry!

For your sake, I hope that the article is well written.

Fourth column, near the top of the page.

Gracious, boy.

You do well to express such solicitude

on behalf of a fond parent

who, in a moment of aberration,

seeks to supplant the horse, and indeed, the foot

on our national highways with an explosive device.

But it does not excuse you from stealing my posts!

I brought it in, Father.

In that case, you will stand in the corner

for 15 minutes after supper.

Yes, Father.

And now, let merriment be resumed and battle be given.

I'll show you how to dribble!

[Blinkhorn] Now, boys, clear the way for the doctor!

Out of my way, nincompoops!

Black mark!

- Oh, splendid, sir! Splendid! - (boys applaud)

Now I propose to do the same to the other side.

Move, impetuous children!

(whimsical music)

(motor sputtering)

(workers cheering)

(woman yells)

(workers groan)

(woman sobs)

- Emergency, men. - This is disgraceful!

[Woman] Absolutely disgraceful!

- There may be trouble. - I demand a new suit!

[Customer] Come out, sir, and let me deal with you!

[Marmaduke] Waiting for Mr. Bultitude?

Oh!

Margaret!

Shh! Call me Florence!

Oh, the Honourable Lionel Fleshwood.

Shh! Call me Paradine.

(Florence moans)

Where was it? Ottawa?

Oh, I've never been to Ottawa, my darling.

Could it have been Spanish Morocco?

When I was in the Foreign Legion, trying to forget?

I doubt it.

Oh, who were you trying to forget?

- The police. - Ah.

Could it have been the Panama Canal?

Cologne!

Avenida Morbida.

The sign of the Blue Cockatoo.

The second table on the right, through the swing doors!

Where Pedro, Manuel, and that big Swede

got killed because of me.

That's it!

I killed them.

I was in love with you.

I thought I remembered your face.

I loved the moment I saw you stealing wallets.

Oh, and loved you for way you cheated at cards.

(moans) My darling.

Put my watch back in my pocket.

(laughs) Oh, my sweet, you haven't changed a bit.

Oh, darling, can't we begin all over again?

In the motor industry!

Oh, anywhere. I've been so good recently.

Ah!

But hold.

Why are you waiting for Bultitude?

I have it! I saw your picture in the illustrated papers.

"My hero.� So that's it.

Well, he's very rich.

He won't be when I'm finished with him.

(Florence laughs)

Oh, my darling, you've finally made up my mind for me.

Let's stick together.

I'll keep up normal appearances until you've done your work.

- I'm game. - Oh!

- (doorknob rattles) - Look out!

Now over here, you see, is a sprocket, and-

- Gracious! Do you two know each other?

Uh, yes, as a matter of fact.

We met over tiffin and a burra peg

at the viceroy's summer palace.

Oh, well then, goody goody, I don't have to introduce you.

I've been thinking I ought to go down and see how Papa...

Paul...

How Dick's getting on at school.

I think I'll take the motor on Monday.

Uh, let me come with you.

[Dick] Must you?

Oh, how nasty you are.

Very well, you shall come and tell me

what you think of Dulcie.

(glass crashes)

- Coward, hiding in there! - What's that?

Customers.

(couple shouting angrily)

Do they want motorcars?

No. They've had them.

When a boy goes out into the world,

he begins to realise what sheltered security

a happy boyhood has meant.

Never before... (clears throat)

Never before has he been called upon to make decisions.

Never before has he had to say yea,

nor yet indeed, nay,

to matters which may affect his entire life.

Shh!

And you will find, as you grow older,

that you will begin to hanker after

that lost and rather beautiful simplicity of boyhood.

When obsessed by some great and gnawing trouble,

a little birdlike voice will make itself heard

somewhere within your very being,

saying incessantly,

"Ah, for the merry times of boyhood.

For the innocent pleasures of haying and maying."

(roaring) Aha!

"Ah, for the innocent pleasures

of haying and maying."

Your colleagues, and I, your mentor,

thought that we were dealing with a lazy,

indolent, slovenly, maladroit,

boorish, and loathsome boy.

Sir, we were wrong!

We have Beelzebub in our midst.

Beelzebub in the guise of a smutty-faced innocent!

Beelzebub, who uses a sacred edifice

for the purpose of the seduction of the inferior sex!

Sir,

I have decided

to expel you!

Great!

Was that an exclamation of a joyful nature

to which I heard you give utterance?

Uh, no.

Sir, I am deeply sorry.

Repentance comes too late.

The die, I rejoice to say,

has already been cast.

(girl wails)

Dulcie.

Has this unnatural child's schismatic grasp

extended also to your young heart?

You're not to expel Dickie!

"Dickie," is it?

Already the intimacy has extended

to the indiscriminate and indecent use

of a Christian name, has it?

Dulcie, go straight to your room and wash out your mouth.

You're a beast!

And stand in the corner for 10 minutes.

Brute!

20 minutes!

Bad, bad, man!

Half an hour!

(Dulcie wails)

The seeds of heresy which you have sewn

must be uprooted one by one!

Let us hope that most of them

will have fallen upon stony ground

where they may not spring into the tares

and weeds of pollution.

[Woman] Pompous ass.

What was that?

You!

Yes.

I've been listening.

Come outside for a moment.

Grimstone, are you mad?

So there is a Judas in my camp, is there?

- I had not thought it of you. - Oh, call me what you like.

You can't put me in the corner.

Alas.

What if I tell you that I believe

the whole thing to be Chawner's fault?

Chawner? Impossible.

The lad is a paragon of the virtues

and will doubtless end up in Parliament.

I don't doubt it.

I saw him pass the note with a bribe to Ms. Davenport

just before the incident.

He'll probably end up in the Cabinet.

Another Guy Fawkes gnawing at my bosom.

Well, if you won't listen to my kind of sense,

what if I tell you that if you expel the boy,

you'll be 40 guineas down at the end of term?

I admit that I had not hitherto envisaged

the possibilities of Chawner's guilt.

Mind you, I'm not disposed to believe in it even now.

However, in view of the fact that there seems to exist

some element of doubt in this matter,

I am prepared to take the lenient view.

That's more like it.

And I'll not have Dulcie spend all her life in the corner.

My dear, it is in a corner that a child first begins

to meditate upon the greater issues of this life.

She knows quite enough about that for her age.

Only because I have afforded her the opportunity.

Yes.

[Paul] Ah, well? When do I go?

You do not.

What?

Owing to the intercession of Mrs. Grimstone,

who went on her knees weeping on your behalf, ingrate,

I have decided to take the lenient view.

But I don't deserve leniency!

I will have nothing but expulsion!

I deserve to be punished!

You do indeed, sir.

I am glad to see you admitting your guilt.

You will be caned before the entire school

at 11 o'clock tomorrow, the 18th of February,

in the year of grace 1896.

[Paul] Rescue seemed impossible,

and yet, had not General Sir Watson Bullitt

just achieved the impossible in Africa

with the rescue of the Medo Udonga Garrison?

In my agony, I visualised the heroic siege.

(dramatic music)

Instead of the stimulus of shellfire,

I could only hear the relentless ticking of the clock.

There was only an hour left before my walk to the gallows.

Perhaps by my grit, I too could earn the reward of rescue.

It was impossible, and yet...

And yet...

And yet...

(Paul sighs)

(lively music)

(motor sputters)

(motor pops and dies)

(motor pops)

(motor sputters to life)

(lively music)

(clock ticking)

(horn honks)

(bell tolls)

Stand there, conniver.

To your place, Chawner.

Before proceeding to administer the punishment

which my conscience tells me is ridiculously inadequate

under the dastardly circumstances

provoked by this heinous boy,

I wish to warn you one and all

against the terrible possibilities

of any further breach in the moral code

of this splendidly run college.

(faint hum droning)

(bell dings)

Stand up the boy who is humming.

Jolland! Is it you who are roaring?

I seem to detect a fluctuation in your Adam's apple!

Oh no, sir!

I was gulping, sir.

There is a time and place for everything.

Kindly do not provoke me by gulping in class.

No, sir.

(low humming grows louder)

Oh, look, sir.

Ah, Chawner to the rescue.

Have you discovered the culprit?

Yes, sir. Look there, through the window.

(motor sputters and pops)

Unhappy boy.

It is your parent, and a companion of the inferior sex.

Dick!

Kindly refrain from talking to yourself.

Nobody is to move.

Culprit and onlookers will remain rooted to the spot

whilst I go and pour ointment

upon an anguished parent's aching wound.

You may go in now.

(motor popping)

(motor sputters to a halt)

Hello, Dr. Grimstone!

Untimely levity, my dear sir.

Most untimely levity.

- What's the matter? - Is the boy in trouble?

In trouble, sir?

You unhappily arrive as my birch was raised.

(Dick and Florence laugh)

You can laugh!

I had thought to see you wring your hands.

Don't be too hard on him, there's a sport.

He's not a bad old soul.

Do you take the boy's part, sir?

What did he do?

He was detected by me

conducting an amatory negotiation in chapel.

And you mean there's a time and place for everything.

Madam, there is never time nor place

for amatory negotiation.

That is a function which should be exclusively reserved

for the parents of both parties concerned.

The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet

is amply indicative of the disasters that befall

when youth is allowed to take its own course.

Oh, well, I think love's wonderful all the year round.

(kiss smacks)

Fanny Verlane, lovely girl.

Ooh! Of course, you've never met.

I'm sorry. Doctor, this is Fanny Verlane.

She dances the can-can at the Met.

Fanny, this is old Grimmy I was telling you about.

Ah, I'd recognise him a mile off.

Brutal, I call it, whacking poor little innocent boys.

Vicious.

Madam, when I take to parading my charms

in public in a hall of pleasure,

you may permit yourself to criticise my...

The educational system. Until then, kindly hold your peace.

Oh, I say what I please and when I please.

(Dick and Florence laugh)

I detect a distinct chill in the atmosphere.

Perhaps we'd better proceed indoors.

That's funny, I feel quite warm.

Mr. Bultitude, you will do me the favour

of detecting the chill at once.

We're observed by several score of prying juvenile eyes

and dignity must be maintained at all costs.

Don't think you're going to get out of it, Dickie.

Your dad'll have to wait for you in the study.

[Student] Yes, old Grimstone's gone to wax his cane.

[Student] Yes, that's right.

Keep your chin up, Dickie.

[Student] Yes, that's the least you can do.

It may be nasty, but it doesn't last long.

[Student] Why don't you shut up?

[Student] Good luck, Dickie boy.

Look out, look out!

Bultitude.

I must announce to you with infinite regret

that owing to the intercession of your parent,

that castigation will not now take place.

(class groans)

(Grimstone sighs)

In the incontrovertible knowledge of your supreme guilt,

and filled as you undoubtedly are

with unconsolable and gnawing remorse,

I must ask you to bear the news with fortitude

and follow me.

All you boys will write out the present indicative,

past imperfect, and future pluperfect tenses

of the Latin verb "castigare,�

"to thrash," before my return.

Your father was in the most excellent form on his arrival.

He seems to grow younger with each succeeding year.

[Dick] I'm glad I saved the old man from a swishing.

[Florence] Oh no, dear, I did that.

And I think that Grimstone's an absolutely cad.

Hmm. He's got a lovely daughter.

It's really rather nasty, a man of your years

having a crush on a little girl like that.

She's only six days younger than I am.

What?

- Oh, I'm sorry. - Dulcie, sweetheart!

Tell me, dear, what is the secret of your eternal youth?

My what?

How do you deal with wrinkles,

bags under the eyes, and greyness?

You know, Ms. Grimstone, you look remarkably young

for a woman of 50.

Of course, some people might say

you'd carried the treatment a little too far.

What are you talking about? Dulcie's only 14.

Aren't you, darling?

Would you mind not calling me darling?

I don't even know you.

This is getting nastier and nastier.

You've told me a lie!

I have not! I'm only 14 too...

(groans) It's so hard to explain.

I think I'd better go.

No, don't go, please.

Here we have the recreant lad.

Florence!

(laughs) The boy remembers me.

Remember you?

Didn't I once tell you you were my life?

My love?

My all?

Well.

- Really! - Don't be cross, dear heart.

- Paul! - Yes?

Your father's not well, dear child.

My father's dead, my dear. You didn't know him.

I remember him. Nice old chap.

He spoiled you with sweets.

He was just generous where you were mean, that's all.

Do you address your father in such round terms?

No, sir, never. My father was a gentleman.

[Grimstone] Are you suggesting-

- I'm suggesting that my son is an imposter.

Unhappy boy.

Like King Lear, stricken with remorse,

his wits begin to turn.

He's quite all right. He's trying to tell tales on me.

You've turned Dulcie against me!

She doesn't recognise me anymore! I hate you for it!

Dulcie!

Oh, you horrid boy!

To let him give away our secret like that!

(Grimstone groans)

He deserves everything.

He has frozen Florence's heart.

Oh! Frozen my heart?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Where is that sweet, infectious smile?

Where is that wicked, twinkling eye?

Oh, someone give me a cigar before I lose my temper.

I brought this especially for you.

And now you've spoiled everything.

Oh! (sniffs) Cheer up, cheer up.

There must be some way out of this.

Have you a light?

(inhales sharply) A light, sir!

This is the most impudent lunacy!

You stoop to imitate your father

while he stoops to imitate you!

As for you, ma'am, I do not know whom you may be imitating

unless it be Ate, my mythological goddess of discord.

Even the apple of my eye has not evaded the,

as it were, maggot of midwinter madness

which seems to be devouring you all.

Dulcie, go to your room and stand in the corner!

[Dick] Don't go, Dulcie! Don't go!

Kindly compose yourself.

I can only attribute your attitude

to the inhalation of paraffin fumes upon your journey.

She's gone and you've sent her away!

As for you, madam,

you are persona non grata within these walls.

I recognise in you a scarlet temptress who-

- How dare you speak so of the woman I hope to marry!

Bultitude! Go straight to your room!

Oh, take me away with you!

- Oh, go on, angel. - Rescue the little darling.

I'll not tolerate this!

No, you'll have to stay a little longer.

You can't come back yet.

Dick, I implore you.

No, I've got a party on on Tuesday. You can't come.

A fraction of a second longer

and I'll expel the whole lot of you!

Expel me! Please expel me!

Do nothing of the sort!

He'll be a good boy, I promise.

Dick, I'll be a real father to you from now on.

No.

Well, at least give me some pocket money.

Here.

Here's a sovereign.

[Florence] Well, I think you ought to take the little pet

right away from this awful place.

I'm not your little pet, Florence.

I'm your Uncle Wuncle Sugar Ducks.

How do you know this?

And you have a mole on your right shoulder.

(Florence screams)

Is that anatomical allegation correct?

Yes!

But I don't understand!

Et tu, Bultiude. Et...

[Paul] Escape.

Escape!

I knew that Grimstone would not hesitate to flog me now.

I watched the horseless carriage driving away,

not with sadness, but with a kind of relief

that so much pent-up emotion had been expended.

I remember now making an absurdly melodramatic remark.

Florence Verlane, you and I were meant for one another.

One thing I know:

I shall return.

Tonight!

The fare to London was 18 and 11,

and as we were in England,

where privacy of the individual is respected

and no questions asked,

I was able to enjoy the first comfortable hour for months.

Excuse me, sir. Could you oblige me with a match?

Certainly.

Thank you.

(laughs) By Jove, that's witty.

(hooves clopping)

(lively piano music) (crowd laughing and clapping)

[Marmaduke] I tell you, dear heart,

Paul Bultitude has gone raving mad.

[Florence] Then why don't we have him certified?

Well, that wouldn't be in our interest, would it?

He will sign a document tonight

while he's a bit merry on ginger pop

to the effect that I shall take care

of the financial side of the motorcar business,

which will give him more time

to concentrate on children's parties.

(both laugh)

It is one of the most generous and unselfish offers

ever made by one partner to another.

Well, what happens then?

Don't be childish, my darling.

Then I start fiddling the accounts.

- Ah! - Ah!

Paradine, you are unmasked!

Oh, gracious! That terrifying child!

Keep your mouth shut, odious boy,

and I will give you half a florin.

It's no use bribing me, Paradine.

The ruination of my business I can forgive,

but the destruction of my love, never.

I told you, the boy's raving mad.

Unhappy woman, I am not a boy.

I am Paul Bultitude.

Ha, and I suppose it's Dick in there

playing oranges and lemons?

(Florence laughs)

Exactly.

Perhaps it will stop you laughing

if I tell you it was I who put the police on your tracks

after the Bishopsgate scandal.

[Marmaduke] But you weren't born then!

It was I who refused you bail

after you contracted that bigamist marriage of convenience

to the richest woman in Mesopotamia.

What?

She was your fourth simultaneous wife,

if I remember rightly.

Tut, but life is so short!

That's what you said then.

Well, after all, she had had nine husbands.

She was much more self-indulgent than [!

But how does he know all this?

I told you about the mole on my shoulder.

Have you forgotten the Garuda Stone?

Heavens!

Treacherous Paradine.

It was a wishing stone of the most embarrassing

and reliable variety.

And where is it now?

Dick has it.

I shall throw myself at his mercy.

He will understand.

You will do nothing of the sort!

(children singing)

Foiled!

Don't you worry, little woman.

I will find a way out of this.

(singers chanting)

You did that deliberately!

What, Mr. Bultitude?

Caught me! I call it must unfair.

Well, it's a game, Mr. Bultitude.

We're doing it for the children.

That has nothing to do with it.

If you hadn't slowed the last note of music,

that little girl would've got caught.

All right, Mr. Bultitude.

I didn't know you were interested.

Sheila, you're out.

I am not!

- Yes, you are! - I am not!

Yes, you are! You're a naughty, unsporting little girl.

You know I'm right. Out you go.

(Sheila sobs)

Oh, you brute!

Oh, really. Girls are impossible.

I do think...

Come into the next room, Dick.

Daddy! How did you get here?

I would've taken you away from that school,

honestly I would.

I only wanted to get the party over.

What would have done with me then, eh?

Sent you to Harrow or Eaton or some really good school.

I see. Well, come into the other room.

Something frightful is about to happen.

Well! I never heard anything so disgusting!

Hello, Dick.

Hmm? Does he know?

He does.

Now listen, Dick.

He's trying to cheat us.

If I hadn't escaped from Grimstone's,

you would've signed the pernicious document

which he has prepared.

Then he'd been off with all our money.

This is serious!

Because if he does this,

there'd be no money for either of us to go to Harrow.

Do you mean I could go to Harrow, Dad?

If we- Yes, Dick.

Now, Dick, don't you believe him.

You don't know when you're well off.

Just think of it. No more sherbet.

No more children's parties.

No more cooking hardbake in the office.

If the money goes, he won't have that in any case.

But I promise you one guinea's pocket money a term,

and a couple, a couple of children's parties every holiday.

Now be a good boy, Dick, and give Bowler the stone

and we'll ask him to wish us back, hmm?

Well, I'd like to.

I mean, I'm tired of having a big tummy.

(Paul laughs)

Come, Dick. It's not as big as all that.

Don't exaggerate!

Well, it feels so big.

And I don't like being shortsighted and a bit deaf.

The trouble is, I...

(chuckles) The trouble...

What is it?

I've lost the stone!

- What? - Good man!

I don't know where it could possibly be.

Where have you been lately?

The waxworks, the circus, Richmond Park,

the follies, and the seaside.

I have an idea I lost the stone on the beach at Brighton.

D'oh!

- (pounding at door) - Open, I say! Open!

I have knowledge the lad has sought refuge within!

Ah. May I come in?

(children singing)

- Where is that unhappy boy? - Dick! Marmaduke!

You must help...

After him, Dr. Grimstone!

- Ooh! - Ha!

? Nuts in May, nuts in May ?

? We'll have the Queen for nuts in May ?

? On a cold and frosty morning ?

? Who should we have to take her away ?

(ladies screaming)

Children's pastime shall not delay me!

Your fate is sealed!

Ah!

Look out!

Dad!

- (Marmaduke groans) - Oh!

Oh!

(children laughing)

(Grimstone shouts)

(Dick grunts) Oh!

? See how they run, see how they run ?

? They all ran after the farmer's wife ?

Let me but lay my hands upon him!

Seek no longer to conceal yourself!

Charge!

(Rollie trumpets)

At arms!

(Rollie trumpets)

Rollie!

Rollie, give me the stone.

You're dead, Dickie.

Silly Dickie.

Back from school?

Give the stone and I'll show you a trick.

No. It's my stone.

I found it. It's mine.

I'm going to make a sling out of it.

You know, it's a magic stone. (laughs)

Is it? Cor.

Yes, and if you hold it tightly

and say exactly as I say, it'll do magic things.

- Will it? - Yes.

Now, I want you to say," wish Dick and Paul back again."

That's silly.

No, it isn't! It's marvellous!

"I wish Dick..."

I wish Dick.

"And Paul..."

That's Daddy.

Oh, say "Daddy" if you wish.

Daddy.

"Back again."

Back again.

(Paul yelps)

(groans) Well, there's my liver again.

It is a magic stone!

Can I wish again?

You can wish yourself blue in the face, my darling.

Uh, no, better not.

Can I help you at all, you villain?

Huh?

(Grimstone roars)

(lively music) (children laughing)

I'll teach you to strike me, you wicked old miser!

Stay your hand! I have first claim upon the wretched lad.

Neither of you have any claim on him.

He is my son.

(both laugh)

And now you can go to Harrow if you wish.

Um, can we afford it?

Easily!

The horseless carriages are selling like hotcakes.

You can even afford to move to a bigger house.

Me, move to a bigger house?

Now, when I'm all alone?

(chuckles) No.

No, no.

(lively music) (children laughing)

(Alice sighs)

That is really the end of my story.

But I'm sure you want to know what happened to Grimstone.

He died about two years ago from a heart attack

while flogging a new boy.

Legend has it that he died

with the name Bultitude engraved on his heart.

Fanny Verlane,

whose name still awakens a pang in my heart,

left for Panama with Paradine.

I had a Christmas card from them,

sent from a place the Blue Cockatoo.

As for the stone, it disappeared in a daring robbery.

- Got you. - At last, McCafferty.

You've got a lot to answer for.

I'll be surprised if they don't give you 30 years.

Yeah.

Or life.

Oh, no.

I wish I was miles away from here!

At the North Pole or somewhere!

(whistle tweets)

Nobody knew what happened to the stone.

It may be still at the North Pole.

But if it isn't, may I warn the public

that should any person find a gray-green stone

with the name of a Sheffield manufacturer on the screw,

it is highly inadvisable

to express any wish while holding it.

Dick was married today, and I...

Well, I was lonely, I expect.

I married again myself,

and now end my life and this story

in a spirit of great tranquillity.

Rich, thanks to my dear son,

wise, thanks to Dr. Grimstone,

and happy, thanks to my beloved wife, Alice.

Goodbye.

It really is too bad, Paul.

I've been waiting for 20 minutes

and I'm all dressed to go out!

- Shh! - And may I tell you

that if I was 10 years younger, I should leave you!