All language subtitles for Angels of Terror.en

You're sure they're coming?

They're coming, I'm sure.

Imagine, four kilos of heroin.
That's a month's junk for all of London.

The Queen oughta decorate you, Myrna,
for the service you provided us.

When they find out I betrayed them,
the Queen may have to decorate my grave.

Good luck, Myrna.
- Thanks.

Everything seems fine, boss.
Myrna's coming now.

Good, I'll stay tuned.
And obey Myrna's instructions.

I thought we were supposed to be unarmed.

Go ahead. Get on with it.

What's all that about?
Our junk's top grade.

100,000 pounds.

Don't move. If you do, I'll shoot.

So that's your game, is it? Good job.
The boss heard every word.

Inside of 24 hours, you'll be dead.
- Hurry up, Jim. You still have a chance.

Hello, this is Edgar Wallace speaking.

THE BODY IN THE THAMES

Would you please get me Scotland Yard?
And hurry.

Give me Inspector Craig.

This is Myrna. Myrna Ferguson.
I'm terribly afraid, Inspector.

Where are you?

I'm near the harbor, at the Hotel Portland.

I've locked myself in because I...
I was followed here.

I'll be there in ten minutes.

Inspector, he's already here!

Inspector!
- Hello, Miss Ferguson?

Well, some gentleman you are. It's beastly
not to finish something you started.

My profession ahead of yours.

You don't know me.
You never saw me. Is that clear?

She's dead.

Will you step aside, please.

Let's hop it before the police arrive.
- Hey, not before we've settled accounts.

Stand back! We're in for trouble.
You never saw a thing. Good lord, no.

She's dead.
- You won't get another penny from her.

We mustn't touch a thing till the police
arrive. Get back to what you were doing.

That goes for you, too.

A scoop like this is sensational!
It'll make all the morning papers.

I'd slip you something for letting me in.
- Be quick about it then.

Go to your rooms and cover up.
Shall the police think this is a brothel?

Off you go!

That's enough, I gotta call the police.
We can't afford any scandal.

How many have died?
- One.

Dreadful shooting, I'd say.
- My, do you have a nerve!

How about a girl's profession?
- Later, love.

She came in late, Inspector,
and asked me to ring Scotland Yard.

Then I heard gun shots, ran up
and found her lying in all that blood.

Hard luck. The police are already here.
So long, love. Let's keep in touch.

You owe me the works.
- I'll give you my card.

Ring you later.

That's impossible!
- She was dead. You're sure of it?

But everybody saw her.
You ask any of the hotel guests.

The murderer, nobody saw him?
- No.

Let's question those guests of yours.

London. Ever since I was a child
I dreamt about this place.

Australia has always been my home,
and I adore it, but London is special.

It's the hub of the world. Here I am.
- Well, I'm envious.

Everything's new to you. You're lucky.
- You're wealthy and a world traveler.

I have no more to discover. Life's dull.
- You might try working. Give you a purpose.

Me work? Only if I ran out of money
would I do that. But it's not likely.

However, if you'd like to help me,
two can spend it better than one.

Sorry, my schedule's already full.

Miss Danny Ferguson,
please come to the information counter.

You see, I'm being paged already.
Goodbye, Mr. Farnborough.

Farewell. I hope we meet again soon.

Miss Danny Ferguson
please come to the information counter.

I'm Miss Ferguson.

Miss Ferguson, I'm your driver
to the Palace Hotel.

The results from the laboratory show
that Miss Ferguson has blood type 0,

rhesus positive. If the transfusion
were not given within 5 or 6 minutes,

a hemorrhage would have
surely caused her death.

Theoretically she could still be alive?
- Yes, of course, but it's only theoretical.

I spend an entire evening preparing
a beautiful statement for the press...

to find you refuse its release.
The citizens have a right to be informed!

The largest shipment of heroin I've
ever intersected and no explanation...

Sir John, I have every good reason
for insistently keeping your methods.

We intersected three deliveries of heroin.
They now believe their competitors...

did the stealing, otherwise they'd form
a common front against the police.

Our tactic is to divide and conquer!
- I'm staunchly opposed to your tactic.

Now, in my day we confronted them fair,
square and looked them right in the eye...

and then... pow!
- We've netted quite a haul.

It's a pity the public can't be apprised
about triumphs on their behalf.

Four kilos of uncut heroin.

Can you inspect the seal? I should like
to incinerate it while you're present.

Fine, thanks.

What is it, sir?
- It's a monstrous waste.

100,000 pounds turn into ashes.

My dear Inspector Craig,
why not call the reporters...

and release the story?
They could write a glowing article,

perhaps with a picture of me beneath it...
Of all of us, I mean.

Pardon me, Sir John.
But in spite of the impressive figure...

you cut, we have to think of our security.
Your published photo is liable...

to do the Yard more harm than good.
Goodbye.

What sort of harm?

We're here.
- Thank you.

Miss Ferguson, welcome to London.
Apartment No 1106 for Miss Ferguson.

Is this your first visit in London?
If there's anything we can do to make...

your visit pleasant, I, Mr. Pennymaker
and our entire staff are at your service.

Mr. Pennymaker, did my sister
leave a message here?

Anything for Miss Ferguson?

Only a telephone request from your sister
that you be met at the airport.

Ah, so.
- Pleasure.

Miss Ferguson just got here.

Hello, Danny. You didn't say you'd be here.
- Hello, Mr. Farnborough.

Mr. Pennymaker, would you be so good as
to send 50 red roses up to Miss Ferguson?

Yes, please?

Good morning. My name is Charles Stout.
- Come in.

I'm... the owner of this hotel.

It's kind of you to welcome
me in person, Mr. Stout.

Perhaps you have news of
my sister, Myrna Ferguson?

After all, I was expecting
her to be at the airport.

And there was no message
when I arrived at the hotel.

Miss Ferguson, was your sister a
dancer with the Royal Ballet?

Yes, you have news of her?

To be sure, the name Ferguson
is a rather common name here.

But when I saw a Ferguson had checked in,
I wondered if you were connected.

Mr. Stout, is something wrong?

I don't quite know how to tell you.

I happened to read it
in the morning's paper.

Sometime last evening in a small hotel
near the docks, a Myrna Ferguson was shot.

Her body had disappeared when the police
arrived at the scene of the crime.

"Girl of the Royal Opera Ballet murdered."

I'm sorry. I had hope that...

My condolences.

Miss Ferguson... If I were you,
I'd go straight to Scotland Yard.

Scotland Yard is the model watchdog
of the entire nation.

Ever awake while the country is asleep,
I mean so that she can't sleep soundly.

But if Scotland Yard
should be caught napping once,

no Englishman would sleep soundly
for a hundred years to come.

But if they'd had our modern methods
of criminal investigation...

Rubbish! Oh, no... If I'd been there,
I would have caught him.

You would have caught whom?
- Jack the Ripper.

That is a pity.
- A pity indeed, Inspector Craig.

It's a perfect example of what happens
to the morals of our country...

when Scotland Yard is caught napping.
I could have told those dunderheads...

one or two things they overlooked,
namely: Jack the Ripper was left-handed.

You didn't know that, did you? Or that
Jack the Ripper had a profound knowledge

of the medical profession when all of the
Royal family in those days were imbeciles.

Medically speaking, that is.

But... I'll never rest until I know
who Jack the Ripper really was.

And once I find out, I shall restore
the honor of Scotland Yard.

Checkmate!

Sir John, a photographer to see you.
- So soon? Did you bring... Thank you.

So... my portrait symbolizes Scotland Yard.

So therefore one is obliged...
to take the trouble to be presentable.

Wonderful, thank you.
Send him in then!

Well, young man, we're terribly busy here.
My left side is what one usually takes.

Not too intellectual,
it gives a false impression.

Sir John, this is David Armstrong.
He isn't here to photograph you.

He's the man who took the photo
of Myrna Ferguson's corpse.

Inspector Craig, place him under arrest.

He's been concealing material evidence.
- Why's that? I'm bringing you the photos!

A bit late. The corpse has disappeared.
- The photos are all I got.

I'll take them. And
you keep out of trouble.

Excuse me, sir, but I didn't come
to Scotland Yard for nothing.

You suggest we give you compensation?

Please send a check, will you?
- You insolent lout, get out of here!

How can you stand a windbag like him?
Hey, bird. Are you part of this outfit?

No.

How about a pint at the Dryman Anchor?

Now, assuming no one was killed,
as you seem to think,

then surely there's no murderer.
- There you go being psychological. Craig.

It's a serious fault of yours.
I don't know what you would do without me.

Who's this girl, this ambulant corpse?
- Myrna Ferguson.

The name rings a bell. What for?
She's the one involved in... you know?

Sir John, Miss Ferguson's been waiting
all morning to see you.

That ambulant corpse of yours!

Tell Miss Ferguson to amble in. From the
start I knew there was something wrong.

Good day.
- Good day.

This is Sir John, head of Scotland Yard.
I'm Inspector Craig.

Lovely. It's amazing. Your photographs
don't do you justice, Miss Ferguson.

Is your name really Ferguson?
- Danny Ferguson.

Myrna Ferguson was my sister. This
morning I arrived here from Sydney, and...

Myrna was to meet me at the airport.
At the hotel I heard why she didn't come.

I can't believe this is happening.

My dear child, we'll do all we can.
I'm personally working on the case.

Perhaps... I should let
Inspector Craig explain though.

Take the young lady to your office.

It really distracts me when
people squat on top of my desk.

Hey Inspector, I hope you don't take too
long. I have a date with her at the pub.

I have more important
things in mind just now.

How about you coming for a drink with me?
- You forgot the date with Miss Ferguson.

It's a threesome then. Could be fun.
- Not when you don't like beer.

It doesn't explain the crime.
Why was my sister murdered?

Why was she in that horrid hotel?

She lived there.

But I thought she had an
apartment in Regent Street.

That's the address of a forwarding service.
Her papers gave her address as the hotel,

Hotel Portland, where she was murdered.

You didn't find anything?
Only her purse and her jacket?

Did you come to London for
the purpose of seeing your sister?

Yes. She worked here
for the past two years.

A few weeks ago, she said she had
enough to send me a round-trip ticket.

And... what will you do now?

I won't leave till I find out
what happened. I couldn't go home...

till I've learned why she was killed.

That... could entail some risk.

Like what?

I have reason to believe that your sister
was involved in smuggling heroin.

What would you say to a drink?
- Get out of my way.

We could have a drink in my studio.
I took photos of your sister.

I saw those photos.
- I have some you haven't seen.

Nobody has.
You want me to show them to you?

Why didn't you tell Scotland Yard
about the photos?

There was plenty for the papers.

Look closely at this shot.

Now in detail.

That was just before
the door was closed.

Her arms dangling off the edge of the bed.
An earring is lying there.

And one shoe's fallen to the floor.

Look at that. The door had
been closed for a few seconds.

Then I talked Bensson into letting me
go in alone for a few more shots.

Look what happened in the meantime.
Her arm is now on top of the bed.

The earring's in her hand.

And she has both shoes on.
- Yes...

But who could have moved her?

While the door was closed, she
got up to put her shoe on.

And then when I opened the door,
she tried to take the same position.

Do you realize what that means?
- Your sister was still alive.

We must show the photos to Inspector Craig.

You can have them. For 100 pounds.

I don't have 100 pounds.

That's too bad.
The Evening Herald would pay this.

But we must do all we can to help her!
She may need medical care.

If you ask me, it's all put on with
blank bullets and bottle blood.

Your sister's probably as alive as I am.

I'll raise the 100 pounds somehow.

It has to be within five hours though.
The Herald goes to press at midnight.

I wouldn't mind that drink now.

Five hours is quite a long time.
A lot could happen.

But I won't find 100 pounds easily.

I'll be back by midnight.

I hope for the best.

It looks so bare. I'm worth a tiny diamond.
Little pinky seems so naked!

See here, that's enough. Do you realize
I've lost 100,000 pounds overnight?

It's a tidy sum.

Poor old guy.

This is Danny Ferguson. I must speak
to Inspector Craig! It's very urgent.

I'm sorry, he can't be reached just now.
I could take a message though.

Tell him Myrna may still be alive!
I have the photos which show...

that she actually moved herself.
- What? You've obtained the photos?

Yes, from the photographer, David Armstrong.
- Where are you, Miss Ferguson?

In my room at the Palace Hotel.

Please wait in your room.
I'll try to call back Inspector Craig.

You mustn't waste any time. If my
sister's really alive, she must be helped!

I think I'm going crazy.

This is Stout. Myrna Ferguson's alive.

Jim! The boss wants to speak to you.

What can I do for you?
- You were on an assignment last night.

I'd like to know how everything turned out.

I only heard your talk in the cemetery.
Myrna pointed the gun at you.

I knocked it out of her hand...
- No, that simply won't wash.

What do you mean by that?
- Myrna Ferguson's alive. You know it!

But I told you, just...
- I'll give you one hour to think.

Then you might think clearer.
Put him into the freezing compartment...

for an hour to refresh his memory!
- But, boss...

One hour?

Well... shall we go on?

Can't we take a break?

Absolutely not, Bensson. Freddy?
- I told you I didn't see the killer!

No, that's not true, Bensson!
Stop playing the fool.

You began by telling us
that nobody passed your desk.

Then you said a stranger did,
but you'd never seen him before.

Simpson, why don't we release him?
- Yeah.

Tomorrow morning we'll tell the press
he told us who the killer was.

Would you tell me
how long you think you'd live?

If I spill it, what then?
- We'll see to it that you're protected.

In a matter of hours we'll have
the murderer, and you'll be free.

Okay then.

Let's go.

That man.
- Jim Donovan.

Served time for three drug convictions,
currently working for a meat packing firm.

Jim Donovan, the
murderer of Myrna Ferguson.

Miss Ferguson just told me she's
convinced her sister's still alive.

Go, Simpson, interrogate
Donovan's employer.

Yes?
- Scotland Yard to see you, sir.

If they're up here, then I'll see them.
- They're on their way already.

Mr. Baxter?
- Yes?

Sergeant Simpson from Scotland Yard.
- Hello, what can I do for you?

We're looking for Jim Donovan. Is he here?
- Jim Donovan?

Yes.
- The name's not familiar. One moment.

Have we got a Jim Donovan working here?
Scotland Yard wants to know.

Yes, sir.
- You want him sent in?

Yes, please.
- Tell Donovan to come here.

What do you think he's has done?
- Could be murder.

Murder? Boys here have gotten messed
up in lots of nonsense, but murder?

Of course, I make a practice of hiring
ex-prisoners to help them on their feet.

Sometimes they go back to petty crime,
only... we had no murders so far.

What is it, sir?

Do you know a Myrna Ferguson?
- No, I don't.

Last night she was shot to death.
- I take it you suspect me?

I worked the night shift.
- Let's see if he did.

Did Jim Donovan recently work at night?
- Yes, he worked nights the entire week.

There must be some sort of mistake.
- I'm hardly the judge of that.

I have orders to take Donovan
with us for questioning.

Okay, Jim. Go with the gentlemen.
I'll get you the best of legal advice.

Yes, sir.
- Convey my best wishes to Sir John.

Tell Sir John he owes me a game of golf.
- Very good, sir.

Jim Donovan will need a lawyer.
One of the best.

Inspector Craig!

What happened?

I never thought you'd have a man
in your room at this time of night.

I must've fallen asleep.

Otherwise I would've noticed
if someone came in.

It seems that we both had a siesta.

So... What about those photos?

They've disappeared!

Not a huge surprise.

What sort of photos where they?
- They were pictures of Myrna.

Armstrong took them of her after she died.
He took another set of her...

shortly after the door was closed
by the hotel manager, Benson.

The clerk let him back in.

Go on.
- Yeah, those photographs show...

Myrna changed position in the
meantime, that she got up and moved.

Look, Danny...
How many people know about these photos?

Outside you, no one but Armstrong.
- Surely he wouldn't tell the police.

Nobody stands to make a nice package
from the newspapers.

Please Danny, I don't want you
to ring me from the hotel.

I have good reason to be suspicious.

Milton S. Farnborough. Pardon
the intrusion, Miss Danny.

I didn't know you had a
man here at this hour.

This is Inspector Craig from Scotland Yard.

Mr. Farnborough is a man so wealthy
he doesn't know how to spend his fortune.

My offer still stands.

Whenever you're ready to live it up,
my bank account's at your disposal.

Quite an offer, I see.
But what exactly are you doing here?

For questions of an official nature
I generally refer to my solicitor.

He's competent in defending my interests.

I've come to ascertain whether Danny
received the roses that I sent.

Inspector Craig meant no offense.
He's just been knocked down.

Sorry to hear it.
I wish you a speedy recovery.

When you've made quite sure your roses
are there, perhaps you can leave us alone.

Miss Danny, I trust we'll
see each other soon.

Some character. Now we'd better
pay a visit to David Armstrong.

Good heavens!

You know how to work your arms
over your head, my dear.

Simpson?
- Yes, Sir John?

Tell me what you think.

A handsome pair of trousers.
- She could do without them.

Wait. She's done much better.

Simpson! That's outrageous!

Actually Sir John, it's not an
awfully good likeness.

How dare he! Give me the negatives.

The murder burned all the negatives.

I could kill that guy!

You're not the only one.
- You needn't be ironic.

Armstrong's dead, the evidence burned.

Tough luck.

A charming holiday companion.

Sir John, how is it you knew
about the negatives?

Where there's a positive, there's
surely a negative. As a youngster...

I used to dabble in photography
with better results than that, however.

Listen to me, Craig. I want you
to stop these horrible murders.

Aren't you aware of the fact
that Armstrong was murdered?

Yes, as well as the motive.
- Indeed? Tell us! What was it?

The killer had to get rid of him, sir.
Armstrong had proved that Myrna's alive.

That's why the negatives were burned.
- I've known that for ages.

That's one of Myrna's friends, Maggie.
They went to ballet school together.

And there's Mr. Stout, the hotel manager.

That's why you shouldn't ring me from there.
- Yes.

It's me, Stout.
- Come in.

If you didn't make yourself
look so foolish, I could pity you!

Playboy, that's what you should have been!
You're no good for business.

As you see, Myrna Ferguson's alive.

Only one person could account for it.

Jim Donovan, and he's dead.
- But who would have killed him?

Now, we thought
that was your doing, Baxter.

Are you crazy? Jim Donovan
was my only real lead, the only person...

who knows if Myrna is dead or alive.

That's rather disturbing.
I daresay, I don't feel very secure.

First our shipment was stolen,
and then there was Myrna's defection.

Someone killed Jim Donovan.
- Your lady escapades are to blame.

Why do you sleep with every ballerina?
- But Baxter, there's no other way...

of striking up an acquaintance with them.
The perfect cover for smuggling heroin.

Baxter, it was an idea of yours.
- You know...

how much I spend on Maggie McConnor?
- Myrna didn't love me on account...

of my blue eyes, it was my bank account.
- You didn't suffer that much!

As to the expense: What do you suppose
your tarts will cost in the end?

I guess 20 years at least.
And now I'm getting out.

Nobody knows I'm involved.
I've been more discreet than you two.

You're in a mess,
and you're welcome to it without me.

Now, I warn you...

If my name is implicated in it,
you two are in trouble.

My gorillas will take care of you.

What do we do?

Myrna will certainly try to make contact
with Danny. You having her watched?

I've got her under close surveillance.

One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.

Four with turn. Bravo.

Four, one!

Bravo.

One and left. Two and pirouette!

Three and right. Four and pirouette!

One, two. Done.

What's this? Why are you intruding?

Excuse me. I'm Danny Ferguson. My sister,
Myrna, was in your ballet class.

I was looking for you.
You're Madame Tscherina?

The name Myrna Ferguson isn't to be
mentioned in this class anymore.

Why? What has she done?

Myrna has nearly ruined our reputation.
She was dismissed over six weeks ago.

Could I speak to her friend
Maggie McConnor, please?

McConnor! Come here!

You were a good friend of my sister's?
- That's right. I was.

Please excuse the intrusion.

Once more from the beginning. Positions.

Come to the "Cathay" in one hour.

Good day, Madame.
- I'd like some chop fung soup...

and an egg roll.
- Thank you.

Good afternoon, Miss Ferguson.
I'm sorry if I was rude.

But in the position I'm in, I can't have
anyone knowing I've seen you.

If I knew what my sister had done,
why is everyone so... unsympathetic?

That was so thoughtless. I'm certain
the entire class was shocked of the news.

Six months ago, the ballet was
touring in Hong Kong.

When we returned home,
the police found heroin in our costumes.

We were all arrested.

It would have been a terrible scandal,
except... Myrna had the courage in the end

to admit she'd smuggled it.
What happened since, we don't know.

She was released though. Rumor has it
her boyfriend bought her freedom.

He's a French antique dealer called Wyman.

Hello, Genevieve.

I didn't know you knew each other.
London's the hub of the world.

You're always bumping into people.
- An accident of fate?

Sure. I wouldn't have barged in on you.
- When on earth did you meet her?

Genevieve belongs to the Royal Ballet.
- She can't bear the sight of you.

No. It's quite a pity. The more I do
to interest her, the more she hates me.

It's one of those accidents of fate.
Money can't open every door.

She finally told me that. And you,
will you teach me anything?

I have more important things to think of.
- To learn what's happened to Myrna.

And you can count on my help.

What business is this?
- We'll see to it later.

Go talk to Wyman, and then
I'll answer anything you ask me

What can I do for you?
- I'm Danny Ferguson.

Surely the name Myrna Ferguson
is significant.

Should it be significant?

You were very close friends.
Could you tell me where my sister is?

Please calm yourself.
- I'm quite calm, thank you.

I'd rather pursue this subject in private.
Come this way.

Danny Ferguson is here.

Yes, of course, I'm serious.

Yesterday I learned your sister is dead.
- Mr. Wyman, Myra's alive. Stop pretending.

You've only to tell me where to find her.
- If I knew was, I'd find her.

I'm most anxious to speak with her.

In certain circles of London society,
there's panic because of her.

That's all I've got to say to you.
- Mr. Wyman?

Yes, please?
- Your dealer's on his way.

He'd like me to put the Madonna
in the safe in the meantime.

Too late, Ferguson.

Won't you sit down?

Myrna always had high hopes
for a career in ballet.

But when her dreams of fame and fortune
were never realized,

she turned to smuggling drugs,
starting with heroin.

That had its price... As she soon learned.

Her smuggling career ended in Hong Kong...

Because she was arrested in
London on her very first try.

I paid a fortune to obtain her release.
Poor investment.

I didn't get it back.
- Mr. Wyman?

What is it?
- An Inspector Craig wishes to see you.

Send him in.

In light of this situation, I suggest we'd
do well to keep our heads, Miss Ferguson.

Danny? What brings you here?
- Mr. Wyman was a friend of Myrna's.

That's why I came.
- The same reason I came.

You posted a large bail to obtain
Myrna's release when she was arrested.

And so, Mr. Wyman.

Why are you so generous to Myrna Ferguson?
- Love.

Only love, Inspector.

That sounds noble.

By the way, there's a Chinese vase
you put on display which interested me.

An object d'art
which ought to interest Danny.

Late 17th century. A splendid piece.

Pity, the heroin is gone.

You wish to inquire about its whereabouts?

Oh my, no. We confiscated the
most recent shipment.

Congratulations.

But why tell me about it?
I only buy vases, not drugs.

You must have known that Myrna
discovered the secret of your vases.

Come on, Danny.

Get a doctor.

An organization of heroin smugglers,
including Antoine Wyman,

was using your sister as a go-between.
- Doctor Ellis convinced her to assist us.

But you used Myrna, too. And when she was
in mortal danger, you wouldn't help her.

She saved herself. She avenged herself
on the crooks who had exploited her.

It was her way to fight drug addiction.
- Try to understand our view, Miss Ferguson.

With Myrna's help, we could've
cut off London's illegal drug supply...

and enabled her to start a new life, too.

She was to leave the country
and begin a new career under a new name.

She was counting on your help as well.
- Something must have gone wrong.

She must have lost confidence in you.
She would have called for your help!

Danny, we're doing all we possibly can
to save her. The odds were against Myra.

The men who are dealing drugs
had millions invested.

They stand to make a fortune.
They won't stop at murder to get it.

And that's precisely why you
must leave London, and tomorrow morning.

The organization is watching your movements
hoping you'll lead them straight to Myra.

Will you leave tomorrow morning, Danny?

Yes.

Hello, Miss Ferguson. You've been
quite the tourist today.

The Tower of London, Buckingham Palace,
the Changing of the Guard, Old Carnaby St.

Mr. Pennymaker, may I have my bill?
I'll be checking out.

Your stay was paid in advance.
You may leave whenever you like.

You'll find the door open,
Mr. Stout arrived ahead of you.

Thank you, Pennymaker.

Who was that?
- One of the dancers of the Royal Ballet.

A very intimate friend of Mr. Stout?
- Let's not be catty.

Damn it all! We're in it up to our necks.
Was that idiot planning to kidnap her?

I have no idea what Wyman planned.
He was dead when I got there.

The police would come out of the woodwork.
- One after another.

They're going to pick us off!

We're like sitting ducks here. What a mess.

But we have no alternative. The only way
to get to Myrna is through her sister.

And we have her cornered.
- Have we now?

God, what a day. That bitch Tscherina
really tears your ass apart.

Don't be vulgar. We have company.
- Are you with pigs all day long?

Now, now, fatty, I know how much you
want me when my blouse is off.

Why do I have to keeping hopping
around with this silly class?

Weren't you going to finance me solo?
- Yeah, as a dying swan.

Now off to your lake.

Lover, you won't be too long, will you?

Yeah? And don't drink so much.

While you're playing Casanova,
Dartmoor is probably having...

a new cell made up for you.
- For us, Baxter. For us.

Inspector Craig, Maggie McConnor
from the ballet is here with Mr. Stout.

Well, it's no business of mine.
- You should find out what she's up to.

Danny, why shouldn't a gentleman enjoy
the company of a beautiful woman?

You know why!
- No, it doesn't concern me.

I wouldn't lose sleep over it.
I think I'd better get to the Palace.

My God, he told me
not to use the telephone here.

Now, that bloody fool! We'll have
all Scotland Yard on our backs.

I won't be called a bloody fool!
- Just go, pour yourself a grape.

I'll be curious to find out how you manage
to get rid of Scotland Yard.

I'll be curious to find out which of us
gets the next bullet in the brain.

I want the deep freeze unit sent to
the Palace Hotel. Be quick about it!

Hello, desk clerk.

Hello?

Hello.

Milton! Milton. Mr. Farnborough, help me.

Yes, Danny. What's the matter?
- Come, get me out of here!

My phone's out of order, my door's locked!
- Just a minute. I'm coming!

Danny? Danny!

May I help you? Hello?

Not a peep out of you!
- Don't be worried about them.

They'll never know you're in my room.

Mr. Pennymaker, would you mind explaining...
- Sir! You're forgetting...

that this is a first class hotel.
Your appearance is inappropriate.

Keep your opinions to yourself!
Did Miss Ferguson leave the hotel?

Then put me through to Scotland Yard!
- Here's Scotland Yard.

Where is Miss Danny Ferguson?
- She went to her room an hour ago.

I can't seem to find her anywhere.
She knocked on the wall for help,

and when I arrived she disappeared.
- Pennymaker, where can we find Mr. Stout?

Mr. Stout's in his penthouse. I'll tell him.
- Thank you.

You're very wise
to cooperate with us.

Lifts always do that to me!

Take her to the slaughterhouse.
I'd better go on ahead.

Mr. Farnborough, what do you
think you'll find here?

Miss Ferguson.

Right here, at the service entrance?
- Yes, exactly.

Actually it's a long story.

That's a bit rude. My story
didn't even get started.

Hi, the Commissioner please.
- I'll ring Inspector Craig if you want.

Louis Stout, manager of the Palace Hotel,
has just been murdered.

Perhaps you could send someone
here to look into it.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

If Mr. Stout captures you messing with his
equipment, he'll blow his top.

Mr. Stout's top has been blown. I hope
you made sure his will was drawn,

so you're properly taken care of.
- His will?

Is this your idea of a joke?

Stout is dead. No joke.

Wasn't he here a few minutes ago?

Well, when did he leave?

No more than ten minutes ago,
with a friend of his.

Do you know who killed him yet?
- Who is this friend?

William Baxter, the meat importer.

You should wear black, Maggie McConnor.

Hello?
- Baxter, there was no reason to do that!

What have I done?
- Stout is dead, you butcher!

Stout is... That's crazy.
When did it happen? Maggie!

Listen...

Your sister will pay for what she's done!
- Where is she? What have you done with her?

First Donovan, then Wyman and Stout.
But I won't be the next on her list,

not on your life!

I'll make Myrna Ferguson come to me.

When she finds out what you're
going through, she'll show up.

Put her in the deep freeze.
- But she'll be dead within an hour!

A lot can happen within 60 minutes.
Get moving.

No doubt about it. The evidence shows
that you killed Stout.

But Sir John, it's been established
by your own ballistic squad...

that Stout's murderer was firing
from a distance of a hundred feet away.

Poppycock. Leave the talk
about experts to me.

They think of themselves as artists.
Only facts count to me.

We'll keep pushing until you crack.

Sir John.
- Yeah, what?

Milton S. Farnborough was born
on April 27th, 1931 in India.

He's the eldest son of Winston,
Earl of Farnborough.

And we haven't the slightest
proof of his guilt.

On your way!

I'm to extend the good wishes
of William Baxter.

What, Baxter?
My friend from the golf club?

The same. It's about time you went
and had a little chat with him.

Yeah, yeah, good fellow.
It's not that easy!

Quite a radio you have, Miss Atkins.

With all the hustle and bustle,
I'd go mad without music.

When music is the heart's delight...

evil is banished and
trouble takes flight.

You've taken leave of your senses, Craig.
Trying to accuse Baxter...

Goodbye, Miss Atkins.
Have a pleasant evening.

Sir John, I bet ten to one Danny's being
held prisoner at that slaughterhouse.

Ten to one?
- Yes.

Oh, there's no point betting with you.
You Scots are notorious welshers.

Ten to one.

I didn't realize how serious you were.

Sir John!

Ah, my dear William.
I'd rather thought you'd be surprised!

It was awfully good of you to send
a message by Milton S. Farnborough.

He remembered to send your best
wishes when he was at the Yard.

Farnborough? I'm sorry, John.
I don't know any Farnborough.

Won't you have a seat?
- I should have known, I should have known!

His la-di-da was only a bluff.
Even Inspector Craig was taken in by him.

He said you were mixed up with
all these mysterious murders.

You've got to be joking! This is too much!
Some madman murders my friend Stout...

and Wyman, and you come with this
idiotic accusation you heard from this...

Milton S. Farnborough!

I don't know who he is! Who does Craig
think he is involving my name in...

My dear William, we aren't taking
this personally, are we?

I'll put Inspector Craig back on the beat.

As if you needed to kill people when
you already slaughter every day.

William, these senseless lights are only
going to drive up your costs.

And then meat costs will rise.
Why don't you turn them off?

Let's save some money. Turn out the lights.

Let me out, someone!

Let me out!

Danny! Danny! Are you all right?

Craig!

Aren't you out of line?

I expressly forbade you to interfere.

Bill Baxter gave me his word that he had
nothing to do with the murder of Mr. Stout.

My subordinates are young, headstrong,
and unrestrained in doing their duty.

A duty to lock me in the freezer!

Craig, arrest him.

Or would you prefer I tried
my hand at carving a pig?

Baxter, stay there!

Somebody was faster than you.
- Yeah, unfortunately.

You'd have killed him in cold blood.

Come on. I'm taking you home, Danny.

Sir John...

If you'd like to borrow a knife?
- Oh Craig, this is no time for levity.

I admit it's a rather tempting thought,
given the price of meat.

I'd like a nice, stiff Scotch
and about 24 hours' sleep.

I wouldn't mind a Turkish bath for once.
- I'm warm enough, thank you.

Inspector Craig, come in, please.
- Yeah, this is Craig. What's up?

Inspector, frogmen have recovered
a woman's body.

Pulled out of the Thames, it looks like
the body of Myrna Ferguson.

Better come to dock 7, Lambeth Bridge.

Dock 7, Lambeth Bridge? Okay.
Be there in five minutes.

Sergeant, Lambeth Bridge.

Good morning, sir.
- Good morning, Sergeant.

I, uh...

The face is disfigured badly.
I think it was struck by a propeller.

Her shoes are from Murdock in Sydney.

Please, Danny. Can she be identified by
anything else? Any marks or scars perhaps?

Yes, from an appendix operation.

Okay, will you send the body to Dr. Ellis'
laboratory as soon as possible?

Ask him to report to me
when the autopsy's finished.

See to it that Miss Ferguson gets
back to the Palace Hotel, Sergeant.

I'll join you there
when I have the results.

Dr. Ellis' autopsy report confirms it was
your sister's body found in the Thames.

The blood type corresponds,
the appendix scar, the approximate time...

and cause of death.

Myrna got to the Portland Hotel
and was shot by Jim Donovan.

I'll never understand it. It's been
no more than a day or two in London...

and these horrible things happened,
these killings.

Not only Myrna's death, but
Wyman, Baxter, Stout...

the photographer. Even Jim Donovan.

And why did he shoot Myrna?

Don't worry, we'll soon know.

And I'll never understand
why Myrna was involved in drugs.

Here, this will do you good.

They could have blackmailed her.
That would explain the smuggling.

Indeed it would.

And when she turned against them,
she was murdered.

A little whiskey
will do you good, too, Milton.

I think we're entitled to some explanation.

What's your real interest
in this curious affair?

I had a sister as well,

also a member of the Royal Ballet,
Like Myrna involved in the drug trade.

They both were unwilling pawns
of the organization.

My sister is dead, too.
I've been trying to track down...

the leaders of the drug ring on my own.
But it's no good. I'm no match for them.

There's always someone quicker than I.

Now Inspector, I'm afraid it's your
problem. Good luck to you.

Perhaps you're quicker than I.
- I'll try my best to be.

Danny, my offer's still open.

But I have a feeling that today
we're meeting for the last time.

Please, Danny.
Be on tomorrow's flight to Sydney.

Will I see you again?
- You bet you will.

By the way, the new hall steward
is Sergeant Simpson.

He'll be looking after you.

Simpson, I'll be in Stout's apartment.
- Got it, sir.

Yes, hello?

This is Myrna.

I must see you, Danny.
In half an hour, Piccadilly Circus.

Without the police.

Myrna, hello! Hello!

Mr. Simpson, do you suppose
you could order me a nice cup of tea?

I just can't seem to raise the desk clerk.
- I'd be happy to. But be careful.

Please lock the door.
- Yeah.

Hello, room service. Send a pot of tea
up to Miss Ferguson's room, please.

Good thing Simpson's at her door.

Danny!

Myrna...

Myrna...

Inspector Craig.

Sorry to bother you, Susan.
I must see Dr. Ellis.

Dr. Ellis isn't here.

I'm sure you're surprised I'm here.
But not everyone in the Yard should know.

Dr. Ellis and I are getting married.
- Oh, my congratulations.

I'll wait for him then.
- Could I take a message for him?

No, thanks.

This is rather splendid.

Interesting piece that.
- Would you excuse me a moment?

Of course.

Hello, Craig. What a surprise
to see you here at this hour.

I have something to show you, Ellis.

What is this?

You know very well. One of the seals
we use to label contraband drugs.

Where'd you get it?
- That's a rather complicated story.

I'll be glad to explain it
tomorrow at the Yard. Good night.

Good night.

Strange.
Why does that chime sound so familiar?

Yes, hello?
- This is Myrna.

I must see you.

Come to Piccadilly Circus in half an hour,
without the police.

Myrna? Myrna, hello!

You're a cunning fellow, Craig.

Everyone makes mistakes, Ellis. Even you.

It wasn't my mistake. Myrna never
should've called her sister from this room.

She had to be destroyed.

And so do you, Craig.

But an Inspector from Scotland Yard
should die more easily knowing the facts.

You mean your brilliant plan, Ellis?
Quite simple.

Drugs were smuggled, and
Myrna snitched to the Yard.

She agreed to work with us,
but all along she was working for you.

And once you swapped
out the heroin with sugar...

you burned it in the presence of Sir John
and earned a tidy sum.

An ingenious plan, isn't it?
- And the body in the Thames?

Myrna wanted to erase her past.
But someone else had to die for it.

We hired Jim Donovan.
And then I killed him.

The dead body you found was a
prostitute from Soho.

Just a prostitute. And your lab confirms
the body as Myrna Ferguson.

Now only Susan knows, so when's her turn?

Ellis, you're not to point that thing,
for heaven's sake! It could go off!

I doubt it, Sir John. When Dr. Ellis'
back was turned, Simpson emptied the gun.

The game is over, Ellis.

Fire away.

Come here, I'll show you something.

A double-sided suitcase.
- You damn bluffer.

Whatever that powdered sugar means,
Susan has to come with me to the Yard.

Myrna Ferguson's just been shot to death.

Yes, Sir John. I'll change.

Whom these drugs have united,
Scotland Yard won't tear asunder.

Simpson...

Come on.

Yeah, yeah, this case caused
some major headaches.

But... in the end, I solved it.

BOAC announces the departure
of flight 411 to Sydney.

I don't know what I can say, Danny.

I realize you've had a
rather harrowing trip, but...

I just hope there'll be another time.
If you do come again, I'll...

If I should come back to London,
the first thing you'll take me to...

are the tourist traps
like Madame Tussaud's wax museum...

where we'll see Ellis
next to Jack the Ripper.

What's this about Jack the Ripper?

Miss Ferguson, bon voyage.
Come again soon to Swinging London.

My research shows that Jack the Ripper
once spent some time in Sydney, Australia.

I'm sending you there for four weeks,
Craig, to get to the bottom of it.

Follow his footsteps, his bars, his haunts.

I'll await your report soon after.

But sir, Jack the Ripper's been dead
for over a hundred years.

So what! That makes it more interesting.
Don't ask questions, just go fly.

So we're hunting Jack the Ripper.
- That's the spirit. Wonderful!

Have a good flight and a lovely trip!

Now that's what I call a detective.