All language subtitles for lured

- John.

Good evening, I'm Blue Eyes.

- Oh yes, so it is.

- Good morning.

- Good morning, sir.

- Morning.

- Maxwell.

- Yes.

- Look.

- Another poem.

- Indeed.

"Elephants circle
her smooth white arm.

Good luck tokens to
guard her from harm."

"A beauty that only
death can enhance."

- Let's see the chief.

- And get
off at TX to Edinborough.

- Very good, sir.

- Oh, and tell
Parrington to stand by.

- Stand by, sir.

- Well, what is it?

- We've just received
another poem, sir.

It was posted last night.

- "Beauty that only
death can enhance.

What a night, my friends,

is her final dance."

- The P keys have
fallen out of alignment.

The serif of the R

is sometimes not
clearly visible.

The small broken curve is
found in all the letters E.

There can be no doubt
that this poem was typed

on the identical machine
used for the previous verses,

classified under file Q-140X.

- Thank you.

- Typewriter paper
of cheap common bond.

8 1/2 by 11 1/2.

No rare content.

Manufactured by
the Stanton Mills.

Watermark, Victoria.

- Again, Victoria.

- No smudges.

Typewriter ribbon
probably three months old.

No fingerprints.

- As usual.

- Ah, what's this.

Glove prints.

Probably suede gloves.

- Typewriter analysis, chemical
analysis, fingerprints.

Huh, we have precisely
the same information

on the other seven letters.

- And the other seven
girls disappeared.

- Exactly.

There's a homicidal
maniac loose somewhere

in the vast honeycomb of London.

A maniac with a weakness
for young, pretty girls.

And not a thing we've
done has brought us

one inch nearer
his apprehension.

- There's not a man in
the department, sir,

who's not been racking
his brains over this case.

- Racking his brains?

That's a mistake.

We can go on racking our
brains 'til doomsday,

and young innocent girls
will keep on disappearing

as will this one.

Whose fate has been
sealed by this poem.

No, it's not our
brains we should rack.

It's the brain that wrote this.

"A beauty that only
death can enhance,

for tonight my friends,

is her final dance."

- Fifty'll give all rubbish
enlavourish dance, pop theirs.

50 girls of your dreams
to hold in your arms.

Short dreams, tall dreams,

blond or brunette.

Dance with one,
or dance with 50.

Only six pence a
dance, gentlemen.

Six pence.

- Thanks very much, Mister.

- Don't want to stop, do we?

- Oh, now wait a
minute, I'm busy, sorry.

- Have something to drink.

- Come on that's enough of that.

Move on.

- Oh, my aching toes.

Thank goodness it's
only two more hours.

- Two hours in this cement mixer

are longer than a
six day bike race.

In flew a dead duck.

- Come
on, take a turn, beautiful.

- What is it tonight?

A sweepstakes for zombies?

I hope you two
will be very happy.

- Thank you.

- Strike me pink if you aren't
the prettiest little girl

in the whole place.

The minute I laid
me eyes on you,

I said to meself, Oswald
Pickering, that's me name,

there's the prettiest little
girl in the whole place.

- Take it easy, I don't dance.

Milton's the name.

Harry Milton, just
want a word or two.

- Well, you can't take me home.

I don't finish 'til 2 a.m.

We can't go somewhere
for a little drink.

And I loathe etchings.

- What's that? Oh no, no, no.

I'm theatrical agent, Miss.

Been watching you all evening.

You've got personality.

How'd you like to work
in a really fine place?

- Oh, now don't tell
me Buckingham Palace

is installing a taxi dance wing.

- No, no, no, one of Fleming
and Wilde's nightclubs.

You've heard of
Fleming and Wilde.

The brightest spots in London.

You're too beautiful for a
slaughterhouse like this.

- I seem to have heard that before.

- Not from me, Miss.

I'm bonded.

Mr. Fleming's scouring the
town for beautiful girls.

Ten quid a week, and bonuses.

- Ten quid?

- Audition next week.

Monday, 9 o'clock.

- I'll be there 9 a.m. sharp.

- Not morning, Miss, evening.

- Whoever heard of
Mr. Fleming being up

at nine in the morning?

- Look an agent for a nightclub.

Ten pounds a week.

- Oh, I'm not interested.

- What?

- Tonight's Little Lucy's
last dance, Sandra.

Me and my big blue eyes
are going bye-bye for good.

- What are you talking about?

- A man.

Oh, he's so handsome.

And he's got the charm
of the devil, himself.

I'm going away with him.

- But who is he, Lu?

- His name is John,

and he comes from a very
distinguished family.

- What?

Oh, who's the luck
girl this time?

Me, oh.

Don't be jealous.

- There goes six pence.

- Yeah?

Spin around sweetheart.

Let's have a turn, deary.

- Strike me pink if you aren't
the prettiest little girl

in the whole place.

The minute I laid
me eyes on you,

I said to meself, Oswald
Pickering, that's me name,

there's the prettiest little
girl in the whole place.

- I thought the cat got
your tongue, sweetie.

Come along, let's warm up.

- Lucy, John who?

Where's he from?

- Here, who's paying
for this dance?

I'd like to know.

Me or your lady friend.

- Eh, shut up.

Where'd you meet him?

- In the personal column.

- What are you
two talking about?

- Oh Lu, not that way.

It's dangerous.

- Not when I have my precious
little friends to protect me.

- "Elephants circle
her smooth white arm."

- Professor Harkness, I've
been reading that stuff

until I'm blue in the face.

I've had the best
cryptographers in London

search them for some
sort of code or cipher

or any kind of hidden meaning.

- I'll be surprised
if you find any code.

Whatever the criminal
reveals in these jingles,

he won't be aware of it.

- Subconscious?

Nothing simple, or direct.

- Inspector, I'm happy to say
I've been able to identify

this tile.

- You mean, you've
got a line on him?

He's actually a poet?

- He'd like to be.

He's imitating one.

Almost copied, in fact.

- Who? Which one?

- The poet that your
man must know by heart,

is Charles Baudelaire.

Baudelaire was obsessed
with the notion

that death is beautiful.

Listen to this,

"A beauty still more
beautiful in death."

Your criminal has
the same delusions.

"A beauty that only
death can enhance."

- I see.

But Baudelaire died years ago.

- Yes,
quite horribly.

In Paris, 1867.

- Hmm.

- Your murderer, if he's
at all a Baudelaire,

he'll be constantly
in search of beauty,

and caught in it.

A new lovely face will
always appeal to him,

or some unusual attractiveness
will intrigue him,

inspire him to distractedness.

He'll delight in variety,

and never be quite content
with what he finds.

- Sort of modern Don Jaun.

- Mmm, yes, you might say so.

And I hope that this
will throw some light

on the subject, Inspector.

- Baudelaire, eh?

Well, that might help.

But at the moment,
I don't see how.

Well thank you very
much, Professor Harkness.

And good day.

- Oh, look Mr. Nelson,

this is the chance
of a lifetime.

- Chance
of a lifetime?

- Yes, I'd give
anything to get a job

in a Fleming and Wilde show.

- Fleming and Wilde?

What's wrong with
your job here, eh?

What's the matter
with this place?

It's nice, I like it.

- Well, I'm mad about
it too, Mr. Nelson.

It's simply divine.

Just loaded with opportunities.

But look, I want that audition.

Won't you let me off tonight?

Please.

- Not unless you want
to lose your job, girly.

You know we're short
of girls around here.

Including your little
friend Lucy Barnard.

By the way, what
happened to her?

- I don't know, I
haven't heard from her.

Maybe her landlady has.

Did you try the house?

- That's a brilliant idea.

Now suppose you get
back to your job

like a good little girl.

Good bye, ducky.

Give me a line, please.

- Watch it, sonny.

- Well.

- Hello.

Hello.

Fleming and Wilde
Theatrical Enterprises?

Hello.

- Hello.

- Mr. Fleming's
secretary, please.

- Just a moment.

- Who is it?

- Darling, it's not for you.

She wants your secretary.

- She?

Hello.

- Mr. Fleming's secretary?

- Yes.

- This is Sandra Carpenter.

- Who?

- Sandra Carpenter.

I was to come in
tonight for an audition.

Mr. Milton gave me a card.

But I can't possibly get away.

The manager, I--

Would you tell Mr.
Fleming for me?

- Mr. Fleming will be very
disappointed, I'm sure.

You have such a charming voice.

- Ah, well, I don't
sing you know.

I dance.

- I bet you do, and beautifully.

Perhaps we can arrange
a private interview.

- You're intolerable.

- Hold the line, please.

Something's out of order here.

- Jealousy's eyes
are green, my dear.

Don't let yours turn
that dreadful color.

- You're incorrigible.

- Of course I am.

I am an unmitigated Cad.

Now, carry on my dear.

Talk to me.

- Look here, is it customary
for Mr. Fleming's secretary

to pass judgment for his boss?

- Mr. Fleming never
makes a move without me.

In fact he very frequently
has me take his young ladies

out to dinner in order
to talk things over.

- Thanks, I'll go hungry.

- Lemon squash please.

- You're an
American, aren't you?

- So?

- Mr. Fleming is quite
partial to American girls.

They have an irresistible
way of putting a man

on the defensive.

- Oh Robert, you're--

- Impossible.

- Now what were you saying?

- Uh, would it be
against Mr. Fleming's

Anglo-American
policy to tell a girl

when the next
audition is, please.

- Tomorrow night at nine.

Can you make it?

- I think so.

- I guarantee that you'll
see Mr. Fleming personally.

Now are you happy?

- I'm very happy.

- Then why don't you smile?

- All right, I'm smiling.

Any more instructions, Mr. Sec--

- This can't be so.

Hello.

Hello.

Oh, hello, Julian.

- Charlton has just delivered
the architect's drawings.

- I feel rather like
Napoleon after Waterloo.

- You sound more like Romeo

after Juliet closed
the balcony window.

- That's the first girl
that's hung up on me in years.

- It's well overdue.

Take a look at these Robert.

I think the plans
are perfect now.

We shall have the finest
nightclub in London.

The entrance is larger than
any of our other clubs.

And Charlton has
redesigned the dance area.

- I think the
entrance is too large.

We better take six feet off.

The smaller the entrance,

the more crowded the effect.

The more crowded the effect,

the more prosperous
the impression.

Always keep entrances
crowded, Julian.

- Splendid, Robert.

There isn't an
entrepreneur in London

that can hold a candle to you.

- There's no partner
in the world like you.

Appreciation is in order.

- Oh fiddlesticks, me dear.

All I do is to keep an
eye on the accounts.

- That's not so easy.

It takes a magician
to eek a profit out

of my grandiose schemes.

Let's take a look at
the pretty little girls

in their dancing shoes.

Go ahead, girls.

Aren't you coming Julian.

- Feared eighth
victim of poet killer.

What a horrible mess.

Have you read this?

- You're too sentimental.

The eight little
darlings probably ran off

with professional
charmers who promised them

the riches of the Orient.

You don't understand
women old boy.

- And that was the last
you saw of Lucy Barnard?

- Yes, the night she said she
was going away with some man.

- Mm-hmm, the landlady reported

that she left all her
clothes, everything she owned.

- Which wasn't very
much, Inspector.

- The man you say
she went away with,

did you know him?

- No.

- Never seen him?

- All I know is she met him
through the personal column.

She answered an advertisement.

- Now can you remember at all
what the advertisement said?

- Yes, I have it right here.

It was on her dressing table.

- Thank you.

For a fine gentleman of
means desires friendship

with young and untouched girl.

Enclosed photographs,
intentions marriage.

Box 477.

Now tell me, Miss Carpenter,
what kind of a girl

was this Lucy Barnard?

- Oh, just a nice kid.

Not too smart, but not to dumb.

Just the kind to fall for some
Casanova with a smooth line.

She believed no harm
could ever come to her

just because she wore
a good luck charm,

some silly little
white elephants.

- Elephants, did
you say elephants?

- Yes.

- Around her wrist
on a bracelet?

- Yes, how did you know?

- A girl by the name
of Arlette Tomlinson

disappeared about a year ago.

- Disapp--

- Yes.

A few days before she disappeared
we received this poem.

"Smile your last sweet
fragile smile, Arlette.

For when the roses fade,
the north wind whispers,

are you ready yet?"

This one we received
last December.

"Move quickly to the rendezvous
my light of heart, Louise.

No worry if the gate is shut.

Your lover has fate's keys."

The very next day the
parents of Louise Remmington

notified us that she had
disappeared that night.

Not a word of her since.

Last week, we received this.

- Elephants encircle her...

Elephants.

- I'm afraid you'll never
see your friend again.

Thank you, Gordon.

- No problem, sir.

- Miss Carpenter would
you like to help us?

- There's nothing I
wouldn't have done.

- Perhaps there's
something you can do now.

How long have you worked
at this dance hall?

- Three months.

- What did you do before that?

- I came here from
New York with a show.

It folded in four nights.

I was broke.

- Stand up.

Would you mind
raising your skirt.

- Uh-oh.

- Higher.

- How's that?

- Very nice.

My compliments.

- Thank you.

- Sorry, but I had to.

- I don't get it.

- You will, can you cook?

- Mmm, kinda.

- Know shorthand, typewriting?

- Enough to make me
realize I better stick

to show business, why?

- No great matter.

Can you do housework?

- Not if I can help it?

- Could you dress a wound?

- A bullet wound, perhaps?

- Perhaps.

- Well, I don't faint easily
if that's what you mean.

- Close your eyes.

- Now what comes?

- How large is this office?

- Oh about 12 by 16.

- Where's the coat rack?

- Uh, between the
door and the window.

- What color are the walls?

- Uh, dirty beige.

- Well, we don't spend the
taxpayers money on luxuries.

Describe me, frankly,
if you please.

- Well, you're kinda
gray-ish, heavy set,

six feet tall, and you
probably have stomach trouble.

You have a signet ring on
your left little finger,

a watch chain with
a gold pendant,

and you try to be hard-boiled
but you're really a softy.

Satisfied?

- Quite.

Very enlightening.

- Do I get the job?

- So you know what
I've been aiming at?

- Female detective,

isn't that what you've
been testing me for?

- Exactly.

Our policewomen are very clever.

But the unknown person we seek

only goes after young,
beautiful girls.

- Thank you, then
I'm to be the bait?

- In our trap.

The criminal will follow
you and we'll snap it shut.

- But how?

- You'll answer every ad
in the personal column,

for young girls
wanted unattached.

We'll write your replies, but
you keep the appointments.

Miss Carpenter,
there'll be danger.

Great danger.

Are you afraid?

- No, not yet.

- You'll be well guarded

but if you'd rather not.

- Oh, I'll help, of course.

- Thank you, Miss Carpenter.

- What
about this one?

- One of the forces
late is assigned to it, sir.

- You answered these Gordon?

- Aye, sir.

Miss Follate wrote the
letters in her own hand

on her personal stationary.

- That leaves
these four for you.

- Yes, sir.

- We'll check here in pencil.

We'll continue to screen
out the legitimate items.

Report to me regularly.

- Yes, sir.

What if I get in a jam, sir?

- We have a man
responsible for you,

but don't try to identify him.

And this just in case
you need moral support.

- I hope I don't shoot myself.

- You won't, you're
on the force now.

- Yes, sir.

- Good luck, Sandra.

- Thank you, sir.

- Nice gal.

- Sorry Miss, but the position
has been adequately filled.

- More than adequately
if you ask me.

- Precisely.

Good day, Miss.

- Are you the bird lover?

- Well don't tell me
you want a soul mate.

- Oh no, Miss.

It was my big brother.

He's very nice, you
would've like him.

But his regiment was
called back this morning.

His most frightfully sorry.

He asked me to bring you these.

I do hope you're not
too disappointed.

- Oh no, thank you very much.

And you tell your
big brother for me,

that I said good luck, will you.

- Thank you.

Good afternoon.

- Oh, good afternoon.

♪ You stole my peace of mind

♪ You left blues to black

♪ To mention

♪ You fooled me with
your good intention

♪ And you were so unkind

♪ You stole my peace of mind

♪ From me

♪ Daydreams fill my mind ♪

- I beg your pardon,

but are you waiting for someone?

- Why yes, I have
an appointment here.

- Well then you must be
the one who wrote me.

I am Charles van Druten.

- Oh, you are?

You need a model, right?

- How did you begin your letter?

- My letter?

- Um, Dear Sir, I hope to be
the first to answer your--

- And the ending?

- I'm, um, I'm very anxious
to make your acquaintance,

and to start work.

Will I, will I do?

Will you give me the job?

- You have no family?

- Family, no.

- Tonight you can earn a pound.

- That's fine.

- Why do you accept so quickly?

You know nothing
about me, as yet.

- Well, I um, I need the
money Mr. van Druten.

I haven't a cent.

- Well then, come.

Are you afraid?

Like all the others?

Matilda, Matilda.

She came.

Come in, come in.

We have no time to waste.

Isn't she beautiful.

A van Druten figure.

Now then, there is
your dressing room.

And madame will assist you.

If you will be kind enough
to excuse me for a moment I,

I must prepare myself.

- Who is this van Druten anyway?

- Van Druten,.

Why, he is the greatest
designer that ever lived.

- Oh, a designer.

- He made this
dress 25 years ago.

- Really?

- For a princess.

Her royal highness, Alecia.

But none since.

Poor soul.

He's still living in those days.

- Why, what happened?

- Oh, mademoiselle.

The princess never
saw the dress.

The design was stolen by
his competitors in Paris.

It broke his heart.

And his mind.

I've cared for him ever since.

- Are you ready, Matil?

- Ready, mademoiselle?

- Beautiful, my
child, beautiful.

Now, turn around my dear.

Ah, lovely as a painting
by Gainsborough.

Let's see.

The house is packed.

My dear child, you've
never seen so distinguished

an audience.

Matilda, her excellency
herself has just come in.

- Really?

- Orchestra, orchestra.

- Yes, cherie, yes, yes.

- Not so loud.

It hurts the ears.

Better, better.

- Thank you, thank
you for your applause.

Please, please,
you embarrass me.

You overwhelm me with kindness.

Your royal highness.

- He's a little.

- You're telling me.

Is he dangerous?

- Not if you humor him.

- Oh.

But don't upset him.

- Mm-mn.

- I'm honored by your patronage,

inspired by your presence.

Tonight, I offer
for your approval,

my latest creations.

Exquisite, inimitable.

Ladies and gentlemen,
this gown was designed

for the Venetian fete.

Given at the palace
of her royal highness,

the princess Alecia.

Her highness did me the extreme
honor of wearing it herself.

Your excellency, I have never
seen you looking so well.

Would you be good enough observe
the delicacy of this line?

Turn, my dear.

Turn.

Thank you.

Ah, gracious lady.

My poor Captain,

your wife dragged
you here, I presume.

Madame, may I draw your attention
to the ingenious bodice.

A lace, the subtle sleeve.

Step over here my dear so
Lady Winston can see you.

- Pardon me, please.

- How do you like
my new model, eh?

I presume you heard what
happened to last one.

But it's quite true you know.

Matil!

You have ruined me.

- Now, now, now wait a
minute Mr. van Druten.

Please.

- You.

You are their spy.

- Now, now take it easy, I.

- Easy, you think it's
easy to steal my ideas.

That's why you're here.

You work for them.

- Who?

- Colbert de Pougy.

The ones who are
trying to destroy me.

You'll never leave
this room alive.

- Oh no, no, wait
a minute, Mister.

You got me all wrong.

I, I, I, I.

- Who is that?

- I don't know.

- Don't lie.

- I,.

Well, that's the man
who sent me here.

Your competitor, Colbert.

- Colbert.

Yes, that's who it was.

Colbert.

- Oh, mademoiselle.

- Help me out of this.

- This
time I'll kill you.

- Here.

Quick take me to Scotland Yard.

Well, didn't you hear me?

What do you want?

Let me outta here.

Let me out!

Let me, help me!

- It gets worse.

- Get off.

- Drive on.

That door doesn't
open Miss Carpenter.

- How do you know my name?

- Oh, I know everything Miss.

You were a taxi dancer now
you're working for the police.

- Who are you?

- Barrett's the name, Miss.

H. R. Barrett, been
on the force 29 years.

- Well for heaven's sake,
why didn't you tell me?

- We had to make sure
you could take it, Miss.

With all the goings
on and everything.

- That's just great,
he coulda killed me.

You know he was
awful close to it.

- But wasn't I right
there all the time, Miss?

- I don't know.

- Didn't I popped right
up when you needed me?

- Well I guess so,

but what happened to
that horrible man?

- He landed right
in my arms, Miss.

The constable on the
corner's got him now.

- He's crazy, you know.

- Don't you worry
about him, Miss.

A good night's rest,
and pleasant dreams,

you'll be all ready
for the next one.

- Oh, I hope you're right.

- But you want to learn
to take care of your gun,

Miss Carpenter.

Here's your toy.

- Thanks.

- That's all right.

- Here's yours.

- Thanks.

- It's all right.

- What do you mean
she's disappeared?

- Well, like I told
you Mr. Fleming.

I goes back to the Palladium

but she don't work
there anymore.

- Did you ask the
proprietor where she went?

- The proprietor gave me
the number of her flat,

but the landlady says she
cleared out two days ago,

bags and baggage.

And nobody knows where she is,

nor what she's doing.

Blimey.

Maybe the poet killer
got the poor girl.

- Nonsense.

She's one girl that can
take care of herself.

She wanted an audition then,

and she probably wants one now.

- Coming Robert?

We mustn't be late.

Sir Charles is a
stickler for punctuality.

- Yes, coming.

You keep searching, Milton.

Find this Sandra Carpenter,
and bring her here in person.

- Great Scot!

Are you still concentrating
on international affairs?

- You didn't hear
her voice Julian.

I want to see the girl
that goes with it.

If anyone calls I'll
be at Sir Charles'.

- Now we come to Article Nine.

- It will be quite a privilege

to have you on our board
of directors, Sir Charles.

- Oh, I like the idea very much.

- It's quite a departure
for a scholared, old banker.

- Well your investment
will be quite safe,

I assure you.

- The club will be last
word in night spots.

By far the most
spectacular in London.

- As I was saying gentlemen,

now we come to article nine.

The party of the--

- Oh nine, which reminds me.

You'll have to excuse
me Sir Charles.

I have a very
pressing engagement.

- Why of course, old boy.

- Good night, Julian.

- But Mr. Fleming.

I've not finished yet.

- Mr. Wilde will hear you out.

He has the trained ear.

Good night Mr. Wilberforce.

- Good night.

- Well, article nine--

- I beg your pardon Sir
Charles, the advertisement.

- Excuse me, Mr.
Wilberforce, will ya please?

- Yes, Maxwell.

- It must be in before 11, sir.

- Aristocratic home
offers unusual opportunity

for attractive woman.

18 Kenilworth Square.

Mm-hmm.

Send this off Maxwell, will you?

I'm sorry gentlemen,
domestic crisis.

We've lost three maids

in the last six months and
all without giving notice.

It's most annoying.

Carry on, Wilberforce.

- Yes, yes, yes.

As I was saying, now we
come to article nine.

- Mm-hmm.

That's more to the
point, isn't it Maxwell?

- Turn around.

Very nice, I think you'll make
a satisfactory parlor maid.

- Maid?

Oh, it says here "Unusual
opportunity for unattached."

I'm sorry, I'm not interested.

- Really?

- No, you see,
your advertisement

was in the personal
column, not the want ad.

- Was it?

How odd.

There must've been an error?

You're not married?

- No.

- You have no
steady male friend?

- No, not even an unsteady one.

- Then perhaps this job
will not be as routine

as you imagined.

I would say it has rather
interesting possibilities

for anyone as attractive as you.

- The girls who were here
before you all went on

to much--

- Marie, tend to
your own business.

But she's quite right
about the other girls

who were with us.

They've all done very well.

- I see.

Well, if there's really
a chance for advancement,

I, would you like to
see my references?

- I'm not interested in references
as much as in character.

I like your character.

- I can see that from
here, Mister, uh.

- Maxwell, Lyle Maxwell.

But in front of the others
you must call me sir.

- Yes, sir.

- Marie.

- Yes, sir.

- Show her her room and
inform her of her duties.

- Yes, sir.

- What's new besides
walking milady's bloodhound?

- Milady's butler has got ideas.

- I don't blame him, but I'd
like to push his face in.

- I don't mean that.

He hasn't even held my hand yet.

But he does peek at
me around corners

when he doesn't
think I'm looking.

- Oh?

What's a six letter word
meaning ancient tyrant?

- I don't know but I have
something I should tell.

- The chief?

- Mm-hmm.

- Then get going, lass.

- Will you watch Caesar for me?

- The things I do for the force.

Caesar.

Ceasear, that's it.

- Scotland Yard, extension five.

Inspector Temple, please.

Sandra Carpenter calling in.

- Yes.

Miss Carpenter, put her on.

Yes, Miss Carpenter?

- I think I've run into
plenty of something Inspector.

Three girls were here before me,

who left for parts unknown.

- Did
you get their names?

- Well I don't dare
shoot questions too fast.

- Hold on a minute.

Send a man to 18
Kenilworth Square.

Census report.

- Yes, sir.

We'll get the names.

- The butler calls himself
Maxwell, Lyle Maxwell.

- Maxwell?

Check Lyle Maxwell in the files.

Lively, now.

- Yes, sir.

- He said
that the advertisement got

in the personal
column by mistake.

- He lied.

I have the original copy

just as it was sent
to The Enquirer,

addressed "Personal Column".

Play this Maxwell and all.

And take Monday night off.

- Where to?

- Ionian Hall.

A man who signs
himself Music lover

has advertised for a beautiful
maiden to share his ecstasy.

He'll leave your ticket
at the box office.

I'll send his letter
along in case you need

to identify yourself.

- Yes sir, Monday night.

That means evening
clothes, Inspector.

- That's what your expense
account is for, my dear.

Use it.

- Don't think I won't.

- Carry on.

- Yes, sir.

- File on Maxwell, sir.

- Thank you.

Lyle Maxwell.

Aliases, Maxine Duval,
Marin Weischaupt.

Believed to be born Hamburg.

Paris board
irregularities noted.

Has left and entered
United Kingdom four times

since January 7th.

Hmm, very interesting.

And make a note for
Inspector Barrett,

Ionian Hall, 8:30 Monday night,

white tie and tails.

- Franz Schubert, Symphony
number eight in B minor,

unfinished.

Unfinished?

Ticket reserve for
Music Lover, please.

- Here it is, madame.

- Thank you.

- Robert.

- Oh, hello Julian.

- Of all the people.

Since when did you become
a music enthusiast?

- I thought I might
find some talent

among the high brows.

- This isn't a hunting ground
for you, my dear fellow.

Got a seat reserved?

- Uh, no I haven't.

- Let's sit together.

- All right, fine.

Then you can nudge me when
I'm supposed to applaud.

- What have you left?

- All I
have left is a box

that was just returned.

- I'll take it.

- Schubert's improving.

- Shhh!

- Bravo.

I think I need a drink.

- A drink?

- She's stunning, isn't she?

- Very.

- I'll see you later.

- And yours madame?

- Champagne cocktail, please.

Champagne cocktail.

- Make that two.

- Two champagne cocktails.

And yours, sir?

- Whisky and soda.

- Whisky
and soda, very good sir.

- Thank you.

- You're alone, aren't you?

- I'd like to be.

- Oh, some sort of phobia.

- Fear of meeting
the wrong people.

- Waiter, an aspirin
tablet, please.

- Your aspirin, sir.

- Thank you.

- He must be short
sighted, or a fool.

- Waiter, how much please?

- Oh, allow me.

- Look here, I'm not in
the habit of letting--

- Hold on.

Say that again.

- What?

- Talk to me, say,

"Is it customary for Mr.
Fleming's secretary to--"

- Uh-oh.

- Oh, so you remember me too?

- Unpleasant memories are
sometimes hard to shake off.

- Why didn't you
come to the audition?

I had Mr. Fleming sold on you.

He had the stage all decked
out in American flags,

and he sent me all over London

to find you some
American Beauty roses,

and you didn't show up.

- And I'll tell you why,

I got a better job.

One with a future.

No red tape, at
least not your kind.

- You
wanted to pay, sir?

- Yes, for both.

- Thank you for the drink.

I'm being paged,
will you excuse me?

- Your change, sir.

- Who's that bird?

- Bird?

Surely Barrett, you
noticed his fangs?

- One of those, huh?

- Mm-hmm.

- What about music lover?

- Obviously, he didn't show up.

- Maybe he did.

Maybe he looked you over
and decided it was too risky

to meet you here.

- Maybe.
- Get your coat.

- Now?

- Yeah, we'll force him to
contact you in some place

where there aren't
a thousand eyes.

Besides all this musical uproar

is giving me a
blooming headache.

- Barrett, you go home
and make with an ice bag.

I want to stay and
listen to an orchestra

I don't have to dance
to for a change.

- Hey, wait a minute, what's a,

what's a five letter
word meaning excavator?

- I don't know, besides
I don't wanna miss

Mr. Schubert's
unfinished B minor.

- Unfinished B minor.

Miner, that's it, of course.

- Madame.

Yes.

- Your car is waiting.

- My car?

- Yes, madame.

- This way madame.

- What is this?

- The gentleman with whom
you had the appointment

was unable to come.

He asked me to take you to him.

- This way madame,
if you please.

- This is one of Fleming and
Wilde's places, isn't it?

- Yes madame, the newest
and most splendid.

- Check please.

- Oh, I'll remember you madame.

- This way madame.

May I take you to your table?

- Well, Mr. Secretary.

It must've been persistence

that got you where
you are today.

- I wanted you to
see what you'd miss

by snobbing me.

Distinguished clientele,
food and wine for gourmets,

devastating music.

- You certainly go to a lot of
trouble making your contacts.

- Not for every contact.

- Really?

- A drink would improve me
no end, if you'll drink it.

- Well if a drink could
do that, more power to it.

- Excuse me, uh, Pierre.

- Yes, Mr. Fleming.

- A bottle of mums 37.

- A bottle of mums, Mr. Fleming.

- Is anything wrong?

- My IQ, it must've been
flying at half mass.

Mr. Fleming's secretary, huh?

- It wasn't my idea.

You started it.

- Oh, did I?

- I must admit, I rather
enjoyed the job while it lasted.

- Did you?

- Except there was
no future to it,

that's why I gave it up.

You're not very talkative
tonight, are you?

Shall we drink a toast to your
friend who didn't show up?

- Those x-ray eyes of yours
don't miss a trick, do they?

- Nothing that concerns me.

- How could it in this case?

- Has it occurred to you
that I might be the one

you were waiting for?

- Yes, as a matter
of fact, it has.

Did you send me that letter?

- I might as well own up
to the confounded thing.

I bundled it, didn't I?

But at least the
result was the same.

I did meet you at the concert.

- Why didn't you stay until
the end of the concert,

if you're such a music lover?

- I had more important
things on my mind.

- Such as?

- Planning an evening for you.

- Like the song?

- Yes, very much.

♪ Come with me

♪ What you ask of me, I'll give

♪ Night or day

♪ For as long as I shall live

♪ While there's new love

♪ Needs no reason

♪ I'm yours for always

♪ Darling, all for love ♪

- Do you know what it's called?

- All for love.

- I've never heard it
sound like that before.

- You didn't write that letter.

- No?

- Your technique is
entirely different.

- Have it your way.

I've had mine.

Would you like to dance, or is
that reserved for auditions?

- I'd like to, very much.

I'll pass judgment this time.

- Darling, your successor.

- For as long as
she can hold him.

Obviously it's
just the beginning.

The old Fleming pattern.

It's always the same.

With a graceful bow, he
takes her in his arms,

and they dance a few steps in
beautiful, harmonious silence.

While his busy, little brain

composes charming
little speeches.

Now he begins his campaign
to sweep her off her feet.

He tells her how
exciting she is.

How fortunate he is.

And how fond he is of red hair.

Or black or purple hair
as the case may be.

- Don't say it Mr.
Fleming, let me guess.

I'm sure it's been said before.

Have her sing it again, please.

- I'll be glad to.

♪ All for love

♪ Poets write the
words that sing

♪ All for love

♪ Winter suddenly is spring

♪ And my heart
blooms out of season

♪ With a strange enchantment
only you can bring

♪ All for love

♪ Am I breaking every rule

♪ All for love

♪ Am I acting like a fool ♪

- May I?

- Oh, Mr. Maxwell.

Come in.

- Sit down, my dear, sit down.

I'm sorry to disturb
your afternoon's rest.

- It's quite all
right Mr. Maxwell.

- There's something
I want to tell you.

We've talked of
advancement, haven't we?

- Yes.

- I've watched you closely,
and you've done very well.

- Thank you.

- Now, this evening,
you're going to meet

a very influential
friend of mine.

- On?

- Mr. Nicholas Moryani.

He's coming here.

If you make a good
impression on him,

your future is assured.

- What do you mean?

- You haven't traveled
much, have you?

- No, just
from New York, here.

- Never seen South America?

Never felt the warmth its sun?

Ah, what gaiety and color!

Magnificent.

The rolling tempest.

The towing peaks.

The charm of the
cities and the people.

Hospitable and rich.

- Oh, don't kid me Mr. Maxwell.

That stuff's
strictly for dreams.

- No, Mr. Moryani
has it in his power

to provide many opportunities
for a deserving girl.

- Gee, I can see myself
in a setting like that.

But what would I do
in South America?

- Mr. Moryani has
many properties.

You might start as you did here.

At the height you might
reach our unlimited, there.

- Oh, honestly I'd
give notice right now.

- The boat doesn't
sail 'til Wednesday.

- Oh, I'd love
another boat trip.

What's the name of it?

- It's one of his boats.

- There's one thing I
don't like about it though.

- What?

- Leaving this house, here.

My job with you.

I've been very happy.

- I'll be sorry to see you go.

- You will miss me, won't you?

Just a little.

- Very much.

- You know, Mr. Maxwell,

I've like you from the start.

- Have you?

- I've often
thought that maybe--

- Maybe someday I
might join you there.

- Oh, wouldn't
that be wonderful?

Both of us sailing away
on the good ship, Moryani.

- Doriatus, Moryani
is my friend's name.

He, he's a very fine fellow.

You'll like him, Moryani.

I'll put in a good word for you.

- I'm sure you will.

- Oh Sandra.

- Yes, sir.

- This is Mr. Moryani,

the gentleman I was
telling you about.

- I'm very happy to
know you, Mr. Moryani.

Mr. Maxwell was
telling me that--

- Yes.

- That you work miracles.

- What's for dessert, Max?

- Ah, your favorite.

- You may serve Mr. Moryani's
dessert now, Sandra.

- Yes, sir.

- Hey.
- Yes, sir.

- Take this.

- Oh, I'm sorry sir.

- Would you like your
coffee now, Mr. Moryani?

- Hmm?

- Coffee?

- Later, with brandy.

- Excuse me, Mr. Moryani.

- Oh, it should be
from over here, I--

- It's all right.

- I'm sorry, sir.

- Sit down, I want
to talk to you.

- Thank you.

- Delicious.

What are you really looking for?

Oh, a better job, more
money, a little fun.

- Fun?

I see.

- What any girl wants.

- Oh, Fleming,
you're incorrigible.

- I'm returnin' on
chitty charmers.

- Oh Maxwell.

- Yes, sir.

- The brandy.

The good brandy, Maxwell.

- Oh, I know
Sir Charles got the better

of the bargain.

- Sugar and
cream, Mr. Moryani?

- No, black.

- Yes, sir.

- Is everything
satisfactory, Mr. Moryani.

- Sure, Max.

Send her away.

- Oh Sandra.

Five glasses for cognac.

- Yes, sir.

- Would you mind, Mr.
Moryani, Sir Charles--

- Oh, it's all right.

- Thank you.

- In the library.

- Yes, sir.

- Isn't she beautiful?

- Who is she?

- Why, nobody.

Nobody at all, just
an ordinary girl.

Pretty, smart.

- She's too smart.

I don't want her in the deal.

- But--

- What did you tell her?

- The usual things.

- What did you tell her?

- Nothing, nothing at all.

- Did you tell her
the name of the boat?

You blithering idiot.

- Well, that'll
solve the problem.

Have a brandy.

- Oh, thank you.

That should do it.

- Right.

- Oh Fleming,
have a brandy old boy.

- Brandy, sir?

- Robert, for heaven
sake, where are you--

- Be back in five minutes.

- I'm sorry Sir Charles.

- Sandra.

Oh no you don't.

Not this time.

- I beg your pardon sir,

but I'm not permitted to
associate with the guests.

- I've combed all
London for you.

What on earth are you doing
in this idiotic costume.

- Making a living,
sir, as a parlor maid.

Uniform is required.

- Oh, a living, eh?

So this is the
job with a future.

- If you please.

- May I be of any
service to you sir?

Is there anything that you
want, sir, in the kitchen?

- Uh, yes I, I lost
a button off my coat,

and this young lady's
going to be good enough

to sew it on.

- Yes I was going to find some--

- Do you have the button, sir?

- No, unfortunately.

Would you be good enough
to fetch one for me.

A black one?

- Very well.

A black one.

- Sandra.

- Please.

- Couldn't you get
out for a minute?

- I'm on duty, sir.

- Sir, the ladies maid will
take care of the button for you.

Sandra.

- Yes, Mr. Maxwell.

- Take this out please.

- Excuse me, sir.

- Your button, sir.

- Huh?

- Your button.

- Oh, thank you.

- Scotland Yard, please.

Hello, Scotland Yard, this
is Sandra Carpenter calling.

Inspector Barrett, please.

Oh, hello Mr. Moryani.

- Hello.

You don't want to call anybody.

Well they're not in.

It was lonesome walking alone,

I thought I'd get
a friend of mine.

- Why didn't you ask me?

We're friends aren't we?

- Surely.

- Max told me how
friendly you are.

You're very much interested
in our plan, too.

Aren't you?

- Oh, of course.

What girl wouldn't be?

South America must be wonderful.

I have, I really shouldn't
stay out too long, I uh,

- It's perfectly all right.

Max won't mind it, as
long as you're with me.

- No I suppose not.

- Incidentally, who
were you calling?

- A man?

- Yes, a very old
friend of mine.

- Don't lie to me.

- I'm not lying.

- What are you up to?

- Nothing.

- Why you!

What are you up to?

You screamed.

- Nothing, nothing.

- What'd you tell 'em?

- Robert, Robert!

Robert he's got a knife.

Oh, Robert I was so frightened.

Oh, I'm so glad you came.

- So am I.

I was beginning to think you
didn't appreciate my advances.

- Oh, but I did.

I do, and I've thought
of you, but I couldn't.

Oh darling, you knew.

- I couldn't get
you out of my mind.

- Hello.

Hello.

Oh, pardon me.

I thought I had
someone for a crime.

What's this?

Blimey, he's a
cold one, isn't he?

- Look, do me a favor, will you?

- Anything you say governor.

- This is a case for the police.

Help me with him, I've
gotta get my girl home.

- Place it is, governor.

Leave it to me, you take
care of the young lady.

- Thanks.

By the way, who is
our sleeping Romeo?

- Oh, I don't know.

I never saw him before.

All of a sudden, there he
was, pushing me around and--

- Well he's not such
a bad sort of bat.

- What do you mean?

- Look what he did
for me tonight.

- It's true, we're engaged.

I'm gonna marry the man.

Isn't it wonderful?

- Congratulations, my dear.

- Congratulations,
Miss Carpenter.

- Thank you Mr
Gordon, thank you.

- We trust you'll
be extremely happy.

- Hey we do indeed.

- Thank you.

- But I hope you didn't
reveal your connections

with Scotland Yard.

- No, thanks to Barrett,
I didn't have to.

- Did you get them all?

- Yes, we raided the Doriatus
after arresting Moryani

and his playmates.

Gordon has sent traces on their
operations in South America.

The thanks all go to you Sandra.

Incidentally Sir
Charles is very grateful

for our bit of house cleaning.

He was quite shocked
when he learned

that his downstairs is used
as a recruiting station

for apprentices in crime.

- I can imagine.

You will let me know the minute
you have any news of Lucy,

won't you?

- Of course.

- Well, isn't my guardian angle
going to say goodbye to me?

- Well when you leave,
my wings are gone.

Incidentally that man of yours,
he better be good to you,

that's all.

If you ever need a friend
just remember H.R. Barrett.

- I will.

- When is the wedding?

You'll send me an
invitation, I hope.

- Of course, but first
Robert's giving me

an engagement party.

Tuesday at nine.

You'll be sure to come.

- I'll be there.

Goodbye my dear,
and God bless you.

- Thank you, Inspector.

- You say they're a gang
of jewel thieves, sir.

But what have the girls
got to do with it,

and where do they get 'em?

- Oh, in various ways, such
as the personal column.

They round up young girls
who are attracted by promises

of luxury.

Trip to a foreign country
with all expenses paid.

Guarantee of an easy job,
and they're shipped out.

- And when they land,
they get the low down.

- Exactly.

Some of them are placed as
hostesses in nightclubs,

if they are attractive enough.

Others go into the best
families as domestic servants.

They're told what to
do and they do it.

And if they rebel, or talk,
they disappear permanently.

- Well, thank goodness
the case is closed.

- Now the worst one
in my experience

mostly the way it dragged on.

- Sorry gentlemen, but I don't
believe this case is closed.

- What?

- Do you think a gang would
deliberately warn Scotland Yard

before each of its
victims disappeared?

- How do you mean?

- Do you think
they'd write poems,

studiously copying the style
of one of the most fantastic

madmen that ever
lived, Baudelaire?

Does that have the
earmarks of a gang?

- Well, sir, what
is your theory then?

- I think we'll find
in South America,

many of the girls
who've been missing,

but not Louise Remmingon,
nor Arlette Tomlinson,

or other girls immortalized
by our modern Baudelaire.

And not Lucy Barnard.

No, gentlemen, we
are not through.

But sir, you let
Miss Carpenter go.

Well she's won her spurs.

She deserves to be happy.

- Charles, take the parcels
into the drawing room.

- Yes, sir.

- Hello.

- Hello, Julian.

My colleague and my conscience,

before I met you.

- Robert's told
me so much about you.

- Robert's told
me all about you.

- Hello, Julian.

- Hello, Sandra.

Robert is a very lucky fellow.

- Persistent.

- Julian, you haven't
lived until you've shopped

for a trousseau with the
prettiest red-head in the world.

- Charming, but
rather expensive experience,

I estimate.

- That will be
all, thank you Charles.

- Oh, so here's
where the home fires burn

for those two
celebrated bachelors.

- For a long
time, too, eh Julian?

- Yes.

- Beautiful,
really beautiful.

- Well, aren't you coming in?

- Now leave her alone, Julian.

She's trying to picture
how the room will look

after she's rearranged
the furniture.

- I am not.

Not until Wednesday.

Oh, I feel that I'm
barging in on you two.

- No, no, no, I'm
moving up to town.

- Julian, you're not
leaving this house.

- Now, my dear Sandra.

- My dear Robert.

If our marriage is going to
make your best friend homeless,

the deal is off.

- Oh really?

- Really.

- Well, let's discuss it
over a glass of sherry.

- Yes, Mr. Robert.

- Ah, Mrs. Miller.

Uh, Mrs. Miller, this is the
future lady of the house,

Miss Carpenter for the present.

- How do you do Mrs. Miller?
- Miss Carpenter.

- Will you see that the
spare room is order?

Miss Carpenter will
be using it on Tuesday

before the reception.

And will you take all this
paraphernalia upstairs?

- Oh, Mrs. Miller, my engagement
party dress is in this one.

Please be especially nice
to it when you hang it up,

won't you?

- I'll be careful, Miss.

- Thank you.

- We should toast the
bride don't you think?

- Oh, Julian, I'm
not a bride yet,

and I'm very superstitious.

- And now it's an
occasion for us.

Here's to Sandra.

- Gentlemen, I thank you.

- Now Julian, aren't you going
to claim your prerogative?

You don't object to kissing
your husband's business partner

from time to time, do you?

- Well that depends on how many
business partners you have?

- Julian, go ahead.

- I haven't the
lady's permission.

- Oh.

- That's all that's required.

Now, Sandra, I want to show
you the rest of the house.

- And introduction
to my new job?

- Yes.

Besides, I want to kiss you too.

- Well, I'll be blessed.

- Pardon, sir?

- The chief was right.

- Well Gordon.

- It's come, sir.

Another poem.

- "The loveliest one
reveals the tiger's lair.

Knowing not what strange
love's lurking there.

Wearing shimmering stars
on silken cloth of blue.

Her last, 'tis death with
whom she'll have a rendezvous."

I'm afraid, Gordon,
there's not much chance

for this poor girl, either.

With her dress of
shimmering stars.

- There.

Looks like you walked
through a shower of stars,

doesn't it, Miss?

- That's how I feel.

Believe me, I'm getting
awfully fond of this cloud

I'm travelling on.

- Sounds like Mr.
Fleming lately.

He's a bit giddy too, Miss.

- Thank you Mrs. Miller.

- Exquisite.

The stars in your dress
are only surpassed by the--

- Stars in my eyes.

Thank you Julian.

Where's Robert?

- Oh, Robert won't be long.

- Oh, he isn't ready yet?

- Shall we wait in his study?

It isn't everyone who
has this privileged.

- Oh.

- This is the one place that
he like to call his own.

- Well, I guess this
settles, once and for all,

the old question of who
takes longer to dress,

a man or a woman.

- Well, Robert's a very
vain fellow, my dear.

And vanity takes it's own time.

- Is that supposed to be news?

Look at all the
encouragement he's had.

Robert dear, I anticipate
loving you forever.

Your Margaret.

Methinks that's where Maggie
made her first mistake,

no doubt.

Uh-oh, there's another one.

Remember the, oh don't
take it down Julian.

I wasn't complaining.

- You might if
you read this one.

I'm sure Robert will
thank me for disposing

of this particular skeleton.

I'll go up and see
what's keeping him.

Robert.

Robert.

- Bad legs.

Mm-hmm.

Oh no.

Lucy!

- Darling, people are arriving.

Is anything wrong?

- Robert.

- What is it?

- Tell me something.

- I love you, yes.

Were you doubting it?

Oh.

- Did you know her?

- This on the eve of my wedding

with a house full
of guests coming.

- No, I don't think so.

Am I supposed to know her?

- I don't know.

- I'm glad you're
not the jealous kind,

or I'd have to take up farming.

Did I tell you how
beautiful you look?

Well we can't get into that now.

I want to show you off.

Come in.

- Beg pardon sir, a Mr.
Harley Temple has arrived.

- Oh, yes.

- Should I show him
to the drawing room.

- Would you ask him to
come in here please.

He's a friend of mine.

Oh, I'm so glad you could come.

Mr. Temple, my
fiance, Mr. Fleming.

- May I offer my
felicitations to you both.

- Oh, thank you.

- I wonder if I could
have a word with Sandra.

We'll join you in a minute.

- Yes, of course.

- Where did you get that gown?

- This?

At Lorraine's on Bond Street.

- Who was with you?

- Why, Robert and the chauffeur.

- Robert?

- What are you driving at?

"Loveliest one reveals
the tiger's lair.

Knowing not what strange
love's lurking there.

Wearing shimmering
stars on silk."

Looks like I'm next, doesn't it.

Oh, you're wrong.

Robert didn't send this.

- I didn't say he did.

- That's what you hinted!

- I hinted nothing.

I only present you with a fact.

Your life is in great danger.

This poem.

What is it Sandra?

- No.

- What is it?

Have you discovered something?

Flemming's desk?

- But he has hundreds of
pictures in here like this.

They don't mean anything.

- And the bracelet?

- I'm sorry you two,

but darling everyone's here.

- Mr. Fleming, I'd like
to ask you a question.

Where did you get this?

- I, that's not mine.

- It was in your desk.

- Oh, it was.

- Yes, please tell him why.

- Oh darling, I would if I knew.

You can probably get
those by the hundred

at any novelty shop.

- Mr. Fleming, this bracelet
belonged to one of eight girls

who've disappeared from London.

- Well, why should
that concern me?

- This is the girl who wore it.

- She was a friend of mine.

We've been trying to trace her.

- We?

- Oh Robert, please
try to understand,

I was working with
Inspector Temple.

- Inspector.

Oh, so that's what
brought you to me?

- Oh no.

Yeah, well you
certainly took me in.

- But Robert.

- Inspector, tell me
what made you decide

to put her on my trail?

Did I look dangerous?

- Darling, it wasn't that way.

- She was only doing
her duty, Mr. Fleming.

- Duty?

I congratulate you on
your skill at making love

in the line of duty.

How else could you have
caught me red handed,

in my own trap?

- Oh Robert, that's cruel.

- Not at all, it's
complimentary.

I admire your resourcefulness.

You've held the evidence,
the pictures, the bracelet,

in fact you have everything.

Except the eight girls.

- Mr. Fleming, I'm afraid
I'll have to ask you

to come with me.

- Robert, just tell us where
the bracelet came from.

- All right.

I took it from the body
of a girl that I murdered.

You've believed that
all along, haven't you?

- No, no Robert, I haven't, I--

- Now look, angel,
the show's over.

Stop acting.

- Come,
come, Mr. Fleming,

surely you have more
than this to say.

- Well what do you
expect me to say.

You found some
pictures in my desk,

together with a rather
hideous trinket,

and so you consider me to
be an abductor of girls,

a maniac who has
hidden the bodies.

- Is this
your typewriter?

- Yes.

- It's the machine
on which the poems were typed.

- You've said that before.

- Do you use paper of this sort?

Watermarked Victoria.

- My secretary buys my paper.

I don't know one
kind from another.

- Mr. Fleming, on the night
of February the third,

a girl named Louise
Remmington disappeared.

Can you tell us where
you were that night?

It was a Monday night.

Your hotel dinner bill that
night was signed at 8:37 pm.

You left the hotel.

- Great Scot, do you expect
a man to remember a date

almost a year old?

- You'd be surprised
what a man will remember

when it's important.

- Inspector Temple, I
don't remember where I was

on August the 10th,
on July the 20th,

or on September the 4th.

I've been out somewhere
every night for years.

You can ask anyone in London.

- Precisely.

And very clever too.

A man who is seen out
publicly night after night

doesn't have to
remember where he was.

He's already established
a cart blanche alibi

for any night of the year.

- And uh, what about the
photograph of Lucy Barnard?

It was found in your desk.

- Along with about 50 others.

I don't know these girls.

I may have seen them.

I may have talked to them.

I may even have hired them.

There are probably half a dozen
photographs in my mail today

of girls wanting jobs.

- Mr. Fleming, here are
letters from Lucy Barnard,

Arlette Tomlinson, Louise
Remmington, and Sandra Carpenter.

Each answer an ad in
the personal column

for young girl wanted.

A photograph of the applicant,

was in each case
attached to the letter.

- Hardly my method
of selecting girls.

- No?

Mr. Fleming, these
letter were found

in the files of your office.

- My office?

- Yes, Mr. Fleming.

In your office.

- You met Miss Sandra
Carpenter and the Ionian Hall,

through an advertisement.

- That's absurd.

- But that's what you told her?

- I made that up, I--

- You mean you lied to her?

- I suppose you
can call it that.

- Then it seems Mr. Fleming
that you are capable of lying.

- Mr. Fleming why did you
happen to go to the concert

that particular night?

- I told you I was bored.

- But you told us earlier

that you did not go to concerts
because they bored you.

- It was a different kind
of boredom that night.

- It was indeed.

You knew Sandra
Carpenter would be there.

- How could I
possibly have known?

- You advertised in
the personal column,

calling yourself music lover.

She answered that ad.

Her reply was in your files.

That's how you knew.

- No, I happened to
see her at the concert.

She was waiting for someone.

- How did you know that?

- I was sitting
right behind her.

- And sizing her up.

- She caught my eye, yes.

She's beautiful.

- Caught your eye?

- I saw a bearded man
sit down next her.

She showed him the
note and then he left.

- It was really a
perfect opening.

- Ah, so that you could
carry on with your plans?

- I had no plans.

It was coincidence.

- Coincidence.

It's coincidence that you
own a Westminster typewriter.

It's coincidence that certain
keys are out of alignment.

It's also coincidence that
you use Victoria paper,

and of course it's
merely coincidence

that pictures of missing
girls were in your possession,

and that letters
they wrote in answer

to personal column advertisements
were found in your files.

- Oh for heaven sake, I don't
know how they got there.

I don't know!

- I see.

Well then I suppose it's
nothing but coincidence

that on the last
poem we received,

describing the dress Sandra
bought in your presence,

your fingerprints
were clearly marked.

- That's my fingerprint?

- Yes, Mr. Fleming.

Your fingerprint.

And we anticipate finding
more such evidence.

- Blimey, nothing here either.

All right, that's enough.

Inspector.

- Any luck?

- No sir.

- Me neither.

- Scotland Yard,
calling Inspector Barrett.

- Barrett speaking.

- Chief says you can
bring the men back.

He's found something.

- Righto.

That's all men.

- Yes, she was strangled before
she was put into the river.

Note the bruises.

Thumb marks on throat.

And the distinctest coloration.

- Body's been in the
water at least two weeks.

If not more.

There were stones in the burlap
wrapping to weigh it down.

- Thank you, gentlemen.

Ah, that must be the
Missing Person's Bureau.

Temple speaking.

You have the
pictures of the body?

You checked the identification?

And the name?

Thank you.

We had better luck
dragging the river bed

than digging in your
garden, Mr. Fleming.

Look closely, please.

Do you know her?

- No.

- I think you did, Mr. Fleming.

Her name was Lucy Barnard.

Does that help you
to recognize her?

- No.

No I've never seen
Robert with this girl.

But surely, Inspector,
you don't believe

that Robert strangled
this Barnard girl

and then drown her and
possibly any number of others.

- I didn't say he did Mr. Wilde.

I said that everything thus
far, points to Fleming's guilt.

You could do much to
establish his innocence

if you could prove where
he was on certain nights.

February the 3rd, April
17th, May the 9th,

July the 20th, August the 10th.

- I could look at my records.

- We've already taken the
liberty of checking your records

with a search warrant of course.

There's no indication
in your diary

as to Fleming's
nightly movements.

However, we do know
from it, where you were.

Incidentally, Mr. Wilde,
why did you happen to go

to the concert that night?

- I?

I've been attending the
concert every month for years.

- I see, and Fleming just
happened to go that night?

- Yes, but--

- And the rest of the evidence?

- It could've been
planted on Robert,

every bit of it.

- Including his fingerprints
on that last poem we received?

- That proves nothing, either.

Read that.

Now your fingerprints are on it.

- And yours, Mr. Wilde.

- I gladly admit that.

It proves my point, doubly.

Someone could've tricked Robert.

Placed all those exhibits
that you value so highly,

in his desk, his files.

- Who for instance?

- Oh any number of people.

Some jealous woman who--

- I see.

- One of the many
employees in the club,

his secretary, mine,
one of the servants,

his chauffeur, even I.

- I've thought of
that too, Mr. Wilde.

We've questioned any number
of possible suspects.

Did you plant the evidence?

- What do you think, Inspector?

- I think Fleming could
do a good deal worse

than engage you as
you his barrister.

The simplest way
for you to establish

Fleming's innocence
now, Mr. Wilde

is to establish
someone else's guilt.

Good night.

- Good night, Inspector.

- Oh, Miss Carpenter.

- Did you, uh?

- It's no use, Miss.

He hasn't changed his
mind about seeing you.

- But, he'll have to.

I've got to see him.

This is all wrong.

Let me go in, please.

- Hold on, Miss.

He's got another visitor
in there now, anyway.

And one at a time,
that's the rule.

- Who's in there?

- Mr. Wilde, Miss.

- Oh.

- Have you been
able to do anything?

- I've got you the best
counsel in England.

Sir Roland Harcourt's
to be to defend you,

and I assure you he'll
be more than a match

for Mr. Temple.

- It isn't Temple
he'll be fighting.

- What do you mean?

- It's the evidence.

- How in heaven's name
was he able to get it?

All that evidence
pointing to me,

taken from my files,
even from my own home.

Piece by piece, all carefully
labeled with my name.

Every crime, ingeniously
laid at my door.

Who would want this
to happen to me?

I've spent an eternity here
trying to discover that,

but I can't.

Julian, you think I'm
guilty too, don't you?

- No.

No, I don't Robert.

And I don't think the evidence
against you is conclusive.

- Is that Harcourt's opinion?

- Well, not exactly, I...

Listen, Robert.

Harcourt is of the opinion
that the evidence against you

is phoned, all but
merely circumstantial.

- Men have been hanged on
circumstantial evidence.

- Robert, you mustn't
talk like that.

You mustn't even
think like that.

- Let the experts call it
circumstantial evidence.

I call it a rope
dangling over my head.

- Robert, Harcourt is
confident that at least

he can save you from that

and get you off with
a life sentence.

- A life in prison?

I'd rather confess
and have the rope.

- But Robert,
listen, you mustn't--

- Robert!

Robert, let me talk.

He despises me Julian.

I saw it in his face.

- Robert doesn't
despise you, Sandra.

He just doesn't understand
that his circumstances,

not you, working against him.

- But I could make him
understand, Julian.

If only he'd let me talk to him.

- Perhaps I can
persuade him to see you.

He needs you badly, of course.

Yes.

How extraordinary.

Hmm, well thank you
for letting me know.

Come in.

- Inspector Temple.

- Good morning Inspector.

- Good morning, Mr. Wilde.

Are you free?

- Yes, yes of course.

Sit down.

- Thank you.

I've been thinking about our
discussion the other day.

You gave me rather a
different view of the case.

- Really, in what way?

- I've come to the conclusion
that you were right.

Fleming is not guilty.

- Good.

I'm glad you agree.

And yet you said the
facts were indisputable.

- Too much so.

Too many of them,
and too perfect.

Facts must have psychological
cement, Mr. Wilde.

In Fleming's case, they haven't.

So they fall apart.

- Oh, what do you mean
by that, Inspector.

- Let's take a look at
this fellow, Fleming.

He's a healthy man.

The sort that lives
with the world.

He's vain, but what man
attractive to women isn't?

He has a temper, but who with
imagination and flair hasn't?

He has tremendous enthusiasm
for life, and people.

And he's very honest about it.

- I thoroughly agree.

- He envies no one.

Has a great love of beauty,

and he makes no bones
about that either, agreed?

- Quite, quite.

- Mr. Wilde, I've
described the type of man

who does not commit murder.

He doesn't have to
kill in order to win.

Our criminal does.

- I'm afraid I can't quite
follow you, Inspector.

- I'll lead you slowly.

Our criminal is a man who is
afraid to meet women openly

in the presence of others.

So, he advertises in the
personal column, correct?

- Perhaps.

- This man has no brilliant
approach to a social existence.

He leads a hidden life,
and finds compensation

by indulging in secret,
incredible fantasies.

- How could you know that?

- The poems, Mr. Wilde.

The imaginings of a man with
grotesque ideas of romance.

A man who finds his pleasure
in destroying beauty,

rather than making love to it.

- Interesting.

- To this man's way of thinking,

death is more
beautiful than life.

Unfortunately he's compelled
to express this thought.

- Oh come Inspector, surely
that's a slim reason for murder.

- Mr. Wilde, that kind of
expression requires murder.

- Really Inspector, I should
never have suspected you

of such remarkable insight.

- Mr. Wilde, may I have
your copy of Baudelaire?

- Baudelaire?

- Yeah.

- But that's a very
unusual request, Inspector.

- This is a very
unusual case, Mr. Wilde.

There's a quotation I
should like to read you.

- I don't think I
have a copy here.

- I'm sure you have.

- You are right, as
usual, Inspector.

- Thank you.

Now, let's see.

Let's see.

Ah, here we are.

Now listen to this.

"A shrine of death and beauty

is the sky drowned
in red blood.

The sun gives up his breath.

Don't be afraid,
my sweet, to die.

For beauty still more
beautiful in death."

The poems we
received were written

in exactly the same
meter and style.

In fact our criminal must
have copied Baudelaire.

- Very odd.

- Did Fleming
have access to your books?

- The door between our
offices was never locked.

- But Fleming hasn't the
faintest idea who Baudelaire is.

He never reads poetry.

He doesn't like it.

It gives him nothing he couldn't
get from a woman's smile.

You follow my reasoning.

- Yes.

I believe I do.

- Then we both know who
the real murderer is.

- You seem to relish the cat
and mouse game, Inspector.

- Aren't you enjoying it, too?

- Yes, I am.

So let's go on.

I assume that you are hinting

that I might be the murder.

Very well, then.

We must assume that I lured
eight innocent girls away

and disposed of them.

The police had no clue.

I was quite safe.

Why then did I risk sending
that last poem to you?

- That Mr. Wilde, was the one
point I couldn't understand.

- But it's the critical
point, Inspector.

The crux of your case.

- I didn't understand
until quite recently

why you incriminated Fleming.

- On?

- It's very simple, really.

You're in love with
Sandra Carpenter.

- Yes, I am.

I confess Inspector.

That you built up a superb
case, theoretically, of course.

Incidentally it would be
ridiculous to try and prove it

in a court of law.

- Mr. Wilde, I think
you'll make a great mistake

if you underestimate the
courts of this country.

- I confess you've made
me feel possibly guilty.

Sent a chill of
terror up my spine.

I confess all this.

But surely we needn't play this
game any further, Inspector.

Not in light of the glaring fact

that I learned just before
you came into this room.

- What fact is that?

- Don't you know?

Didn't you come
from your office?

- No, what are you driving at?

- Why not half an hour ago,
Robert Fleming confessed.

- Get me Scotland
Yard, extension four.

Miser, Temple here.

What about Fleming?

When?

Oh.

Thank you.

Mr. Wilde, I owe you a most
object and profound apology.

Good day.

- Get me Mr. Courtney.

Mr. Wilde calling.

Courtney, this is Julian.

Can you give me space to Lisbon?

No, no, tonight.

I can't wait until tomorrow.

Flight 16.

Midnight.

Thanks Courtney.

- Yes, Mr. Julian.

- Are you quite sure you
ordered my cab Mrs. Miller?

- Oh yes, indeed.

That must be it now.

- I couldn't bear
to be alone, Julian.

I can stay here, can't I Julian?

For just a little while?

- Of course.

- I have a cab waiting.

- You need a rest Sandra.

You must go upstairs
and lie down.

I'll send for Mrs. Miller,
she'll give you a sedative.

You need a rest, Sandra.

- No, please, Julian.

I wanna talk to you.

I've gotta talk to someone.

Robert won't let me go it.

Inspector Temple won't
even listen to me.

I thought there was hope but

Robert had no right to
throw his life away.

- He couldn't compromise on
a life in prison, Sandra.

A life bare of beauty.

That's why he chose death.

- Why should he die for
a crime he didn't commit?

- He confessed, Sandra.

- He couldn't have done it.

He was so gentle with me.

He's good, Julian.

A woman knows.

She can tell.

By the touch of a man's hand.

By, by a kiss.

- Don't think any more, Sandra.

Lie down and rest.

I'll dismiss the cab.

- Thank you, Julian.

But Julian, I thought you were
going to send the cab away.

- Oh no, Sandra, not yet.

Not yet.

We shall be needing it later.

- But why, Julian.

Why should we need it.

- So that we may
go away together.

I didn't want to go alone.

- Well, let's go
now then, Julian.

Let's go now.

- No, no.

I've wanted to talk
to you alone like this

for a long time.

Sit down.

Do you be happy together,

for a while, here.

Then we'll go away.

I want you to see the river.

In the moonlight.

You and me.

There's so many things I
want to say to you Sandra,

but Robert would
never let me say them.

He hates me, did you know that?

He always hated me
for my thoughts,

because I'm cleverer than he is.

He couldn't manage without me,

that's why he hated me.

He always laughed at me,
flaunted his sweethearts.

He thought he was
going to have you too,

didn't he Sandra?

But nobody can take my
sweethearts away from me.

My beautiful, Sandra.

He can't have you now.

- Barrett!

Barrett!

Barrett!

Barrett, Barrett.

Oh, Inspector, the
door was locked.

- It's all right.

The window was just destroyed.

- Oh, Inspector.

Congratulations.

Your timing was perfect.

I was on guard against
everyone but myself.

- Open up!

Mr. Julian!

- Good evening, madame.

- It's all
right Mrs. Miller.

- Where's
Mr. Wilde going?

- To prison madame.

It seems we arrested
the wrong man.

- This is Inspector
Temple, Mrs. Miller.

- How do you do?

- Oh, but Mr. Fleming confessed.

- That was our idea.

One confession leads to another.

At least that's what we
gambled on, eh Sandra?

Poor girl.

Mr. Wilde did rather
commit himself, didn't he?

- Are you saying that Mr.
Fleming's coming home?

- Yes, that is if Miss
Carpenter can persuade him to.

- Do you think I can?

- Of course you can my dear.

- Oh Mike.

- Uh, yes Mr. Fleming.

- A bottle of mums 37.

- 37, sir.

- And two glasses.

- Welcome home darling.

Welcome back.

- It was a rough
trip, for both of us.

- It was a nightmare.

But let's not talk
about it, ever again.

- Your wine, sir.

- Darling, from now on,

it'll be all for love.

- Ah, celebration.