All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S01E26.Whodunit.1080p.PCOK.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-Hurtom_track3_[eng]

[gavel banging]

Quiet, please.

Good evening,
fellow necromaniacs.

I'm glad so many of you
could come.

I should explain that
the word has nothing to do
with necking.

I'm awfully sorry
I haven't time
to explain it now.

You'll just have to look it up
in the dictionary.

As you know...

we are not allowed to
present our play
unless we have a quorum.

Tonight, we're concerned
with those three little words:

Who Done It.

When our story opens...

the more sordid details are
safely out of the way.

For the hero of tonight's
Grand Guignol...

is already quite dead.

*[choir singing]

Mr. Alexander Penn Arlington
has arrived.

(Wilfrid)
Thank you, my dear.

Mr. Arlington, we are
very happy to have you
with us.

Thank you.
(angel)
Goodbye, Alexander.

Goodbye and thank you.

Thanks.

Alexander.
My name is Wilfrid.

We use only
first names here.

I am your recording angel.

*[choir continues singing]

Rather a lot of us,
aren't there?

Of Arlingtons, you mean?
No, I meant people.

Are all these Arlingtons?

These are the Arlingtons
from Alexander to Arabella.

Good heavens.... Gracious!

Here we are.

Is there anything wrong?

Must I....

Am I required to sit on this?
With this?

Indeed not. Not at all.
Get down, if you wish.

[choir stops singing]
Thank you.

It's standard equipment,
you know. So many expect it.

I neglected to prepare myself
on the harp.

Why, that was music.

We don't get many
accomplished musicians here.

And with so many people
expecting to play the harp,
well...

think what it would be like.
Yes, wouldn't it?

Won't you sit down?

Now then, let's see.

Alexander Penn, New York,
United States, Earth.

Married.

You'll find those very helpful
when you first begin to fly.

Later, you won't need them.

I see you were
a mystery writer.

Yes. Rather a well-known one,
as a matter of fact.

Yes, I see.

Age at time of death, 52.

Cause of death, murder.
Murder? I beg your pardon.

But you said murder?
Why, yes. Didn't you know?

But that's impossible.
I died of a heart attack.

I think.

Yes. I was asleep...

and a stabbing pain woke me.

Yes, that would follow.

You were stabbed in the back,
while asleep at your desk.

With an ivory-handled dagger.
With an ivory....

Why that's my letter opener.
But who? Who did it?

That information isn't
included here. You see,
this is only your life.

But I must know. I can't go
flying around not knowing
who killed me.

Don't worry, we'll find out.
It'll be in your
murderer's record later on.

But there must be other ways
of finding out,
somebody who knows.

Yes, but we can't go that high
with details of this sort.

I don't see why not.

There, now. Don't let it
make you unhappy.

Unhappy!

Don't you realize that,
as Slade Saunders, I wrote
over 75 mystery novels?

Printed in a dozen languages,
made into pictures, plays,
everything.

And now I'm murdered
and I don't even know
who did it.

It's preposterous.
How could I possibly be happy?

But you must be.
Happiness here is,
well, it's obligatory.

I'm miserable.

But don't you see, Alexander?

This is contrary
to the...spirit
of the whole occasion.

Nevertheless, I'm miserable.

[whispering]
Dear, this won't do at all.
I can't bother....

[stuttering]

Alexander?
Yes.

This is rather irregular,
but...

given the last day
of your life to live
over again...

do you think you could uncover
your murderer?

Unquestionably.

But is that possible?

As an archangel I have
authority to make
certain adjustments in time.

Time is quite flexible,
you understand, not like your
earthly experience with it.

We would simply repeat
one segment.

As I say, it's most irregular,
but if it would
make you happy.

Of course, it's most
thoughtful of you, but...

would it be repeated exactly?

As for the final result, yes.
Details would vary.

Would others be aware
of this repetition?
Oh, no.

It won't even seem
familiar to you.

You'll merely know that
you're going to be killed
at midnight.

Of course, you could go
through with the murder again,
but remain awake this time.

That should surely
reveal the--

No, that won't be necessary,
I assure you.

It would probably be
most uncomfortable.

Up to within half an hour
of the foul deed will be
quite sufficient. Thank you.

Shall we make it five minutes,
just to be on the safe side?

Very well.

But I shall have the solution
long before that, of course.

After all, it's my profession.

*[choir singing]
All right.

We make
a small erasure here.

[grunts]

Good morning, Horace.
(Horace)
Good morning, boss.

What time is it?

Twelve o'clock. Same old time.

Mrs. Arlington around?

No. She go riding.

Alone?
No. With Mr. Benson.

Had the strangest dream.

So clear.

[phone ringing]

Hello.

(Wilfrid)
It was no dream, Alexander.

[grunts]

Who's this?

Wilfrid.

But where are you
calling from?

Isn't that
rather a silly question?

Yes, I suppose it was, but....

[phone hanging up]

Hello?

[knocking on door]

Anything else, boss?

No, I.... No, not now.

[knocking continues]

[door opening]
Come in.

[door closing]

Good morning, sir.

Morning, Talbot.

This is from your publishers.
I thought you'd want to
see it right away.

Well, read it.

"Dear Alex...

"We have all read
Murder of a Mannequin...

"and to be candid,
we're all disappointed.

"I'll be out tomorrow
to talk this over with you...

"but frankly we wonder if you
haven't been working too hard,
old boy.

"Could the well
be running dry?

"Maybe if you took a long rest
to let it fill up again...

"this yarn could be reworked."

Of all the idiotic drivel.
"Let the well fill up."

Never mind,
don't read anymore.

What are you going to do?
Do? Nothing.

Fenton doesn't know
what he's talking about.
Never has. You know that.

I'm not so sure.

You think I'm "slipping" too,
Talbot?

Well, yes, sir.
Rather badly, in fact.

But you needn't worry
about it. I have a plan.

You do, indeed?
And what is that, pray?

You can go ahead
and take the rest
as they suggest, you know...

without stopping
the Slade Saunders books.

I could do them.

You could?

You could write my books
in my style?

That is quite the most
egotistical and preposterous
statement of my experience.

Why I continue to employ
such an idiot is beyond me.

Run along now, Talbot,
while my better nature
still has the upper hand.

It's really
not so very preposterous...

when you stop to think
how much I've contributed
to the last four or five.

Not only plot, you know,
but an awful lot of rewriting.

Have you really?

That's obviously
what's wrong with them.

We shall correct that here
and now. You're fired, Talbot.

Calculate your salary
to include today.

Fetch me the check to sign
and get out.

And I mean move out
of the house today, too.
Is that clear?

Yes, that is perfectly clear.

Wait a minute.

Tell me, Talbot, when Fenton
comes down tomorrow...

if something happened to me
in the meantime,
a fatal accident, say...

do you think he'd
let you continue with
the Slade Saunders books?

Certainly. He'd be a fool
if he didn't.

Well, I tabbed you
quickly enough, I must say.

But let me tell you, Talbot,
it'll do you no good.
You can never swing it.

The books, I mean.
What are you talking about?

Never mind.
Goodbye, Talbot.

Goodbye, Arlington.

[door slams]

Well, that's that.
I told him
it wouldn't take long.

[sighing]

[chuckling]
Of course, I shan't
want that anymore.

*[humming]

(Vincent)
Hello, Uncle Alex.

Well, Vincent?

I wanted to see you,
Uncle Alex...

but I didn't want to
interrupt once you'd got
started writing.

Very thoughtful of you,
I'm sure.

How's your
financial situation,
Uncle Alex?

Much as usual,
I should say.

I'm in a pretty bad spot
myself.

Much as usual,
I should say.

I need 500.

If you recall what I said
on the last occasion
of this sort...

consider it repeated.

Supplying you with
bed and board strikes me
as quite sufficient.

But this is different,
Uncle Alex. This is serious.
These people won't wait.

Poses you quite a problem,
doesn't it?

You won't let me
have it, then?
Exactly.

I don't see why.
I'm in your will.

I don't see why
I shouldn't have
some of it now.

Why should I have to wait
until you kick off?

I find your impatience
rather unseemly, Vincent.

Indeed, I'm beginning to
wonder why I left you
in my will at all.

Simply that you're my only
blood relative, I suppose.

I guess you'll
take me out now.

No. It's a little late
for that.

Well, okay.

I wasn't kidding
when I said I was serious
about this, Uncle Alex.

If I don't get the money
tonight...

I don't even dare
leave the house.

I may have to do
something drastic.

Oh?

How drastic?

I don't know.

But whatever happens,
it won't be my fault.

(Carol)
Hello, dear.

Bye. I'll see you tonight.

Right, goodbye.

Hello, dear.

I think I'd rather
have you tell me goodbye.

Alex, don't be stuffy.

Everybody kisses
everybody today,
you know that.

Goodbye or hello,
it's only friendly.

Rather a warm friendship,
I should say.

Alex, really. You'd think
I was having an affair
with Wally.

Aren't you?

Have you any idea how hateful
you can be when you
put your mind to it...

which is all too often?

Have you any idea
how I might feel to find
my wife in the arms of that...

vacuous, impecunious
young nincompoop?

Just what do you expect,
when I practically have to
see you by appointment?

Should I sit alone all day
and embroider and sigh...

and wait for you to toss me
a word or a look as you pass?

So I'm neglecting you now.
Is that it?

Aren't you?

Certainly not to the extent
that I intend to share you
with Benson, or anyone else.

Let that be understood,
here and now, and let Benson
also understand...

that he is no longer
persona gratain these
precincts. Is that clear?

What absolute nonsense.

As it happens, he's taking me
to the theater tonight.

If you want to declare this
Victorian ultimatum,
you go right ahead.

I certainly shan't.

(Alexander)
Benson.

Money.

Love.

[snickers]

Everybody.

[scoffs]

What a trusting soul I was,
to be sure.

But wait...

there was
a situation like this
in Murder of a Moneybags.

Yes.

No, that's no help.

Maybe Murder of....

No.

How can one reconstruct
something that
hasn't happened?

But wait.
It's going to happen.

Here in this room,
at midnight. That's definite.

So the murderer must be here,
obviously.

Carol and Benson can't be
back in time.

All I have to do is
to wait and see
if Talbot comes back.

If he doesn't,
it's my dear nephew.

Of course, how simple.

[thunder rumbling]

[door opens]

(Talbot)
Mr. Arlington?

[thunder clapping]

So it is Talbot.

He hasn't quite
got his nerve up yet...

but he'll be back.

[car approaching]

Now what?

[both laughing]

Hello, darling.
We didn't think you'd be up.
Obviously.

You thought I'd be asleep
at my desk, in the study,
I suppose.

What?
This is insufferable.

Absolutely outrageous.
Of all the inconsiderate....

All right. Everybody.
We'll have everybody. Horace!

[bell buzzing]

You needn't think you can
thwart me
by swarming in at....

(Horace)
Yes, sir.

Fetch my nephew. Wake him
if you have to, but get him
down here right away.

Talbot, too. He just went up.
Yes, sir.

Have them come to my study.
And hurry, Horace. I'll get
to the bottom of this.

(Alexander)
Good. Now sit down. Thank you.

I have very little time,
so please listen closely.

Now then...

someone is going to
murder me shortly...

and I'm certain
it's one of you.

The point is,
I want to know which one.

And I intend to find out.
But since my time is
very limited...

I'll thank each one of you
not to interrupt and to
answer questions promptly.

Now then, you.

You looked quite promising
earlier, my boy.

But you certainly seem to
have been sound asleep, so I'm
inclined to eliminate you now.

[yawning]
Sure, Uncle Alex.

What would I want to
kill you for?

For a third of my estate,
naturally.

Well, sure, I could
use the dough, Uncle A...

but I wouldn't want to see you
knocked off just for that.

If I could get it
any other way.

You. You're the one
who interests me now.

Just what did you
come back for tonight?

I forgot something.

I see. What was it?
Let me see it!

I couldn't find it.

Just as I thought.

The insane idea
that you could
write my books...

has preyed upon
your fuzzy little mind...

until you believe it
so strongly you're ready
to kill for it, aren't you?

Answer me! Aren't you?

You must be out of your mind.

Alex, honestly. What is this?
Are you all right?

I've been avoiding this,
of course.

One hates to think
his own wife might....

But we must face facts now.

And the facts are that
you have, for some
unaccountable reason...

become enamored of this
outsize amoeba.

But you can't have him
without losing me
and my money...

so murder would solve
your problem very well, too,
now, wouldn't it?

Alex. Of all the nonsense.

Really?

You shouldn't have been home
till one, you know...

and yet here you are
in plenty of time. Why?
Tell me that!

Because the show was
a crashing bore. What else?

(Benson)
Yes, it was terrible.
Really.

Yes. Perhaps
you've been overlooked.

After all, stabbing is hardly
a woman's way, is it?

And since you're penniless
yourself and know you can't
have Carol without money...

I can hardly see her doing
her own housekeeping, can you?

Mending her own clothes,
dyeing her own hair.

(Carol)
Alex!

But as my widow,
she'd be quite well off,
you know.

So I put it to you, Benson...

that you'd very much like
to see me gone. Dead.
Wouldn't you?

So you could have both Carol
and my money.

Well, when you put it
that way, Alex, you make it
sound so attractive.

Yes. I guess I would.

This is getting nowhere.

If only I'd agreed
to go through with it.

I must know. If only
I could extend the time now.

[phone ringing]

[thunder clapping]

Hello.
(Wilfrid)
Alexander.

*[choir singing]

Is this?
Yes. This is Wilfrid.

Would you really like to
extend the time?

Actually go through
with it again?

[stuttering]
Could I?

Yes.

Would it come off
right on time, just as before?

The final event
would be the same.

Well? You have only
a few seconds.

Yes.

I want to do it.

[phone hanging up]
Thank you.

Who was that?

That was Wilfrid,
my recording angel.

You see, I'm dead.
I mean I was....

I was murdered once before,
but I didn't know
who did it...

and Wilfrid has allowed me
to come back to find out.

Very considerate of him,
I think.

But I still don't know...

and he's going to let me
go through with it again.

Please don't ask me
to explain, you wouldn't
understand.

We certainly wouldn't.

The point is,
in a few moments...

someone is going to stab me
in the back, with this.

But this time I'm going to be
awake, and I'll know
who it is.

So go on. Clear out.
All of you.

Obviously, nobody will do it
with the others here
as witnesses.

(Talbot)
Arlington, you'd better...

get to a psychiatrist
before it's too late.

Even if one of us
were going to kill you...

you don't think he'd come back
and do it right away, do you?

With the others inevitably
watching for him?

Possibly not, I don't know.
That's not my responsibility.

But go on. Can't you
all clear out?
Can't you hurry?

Alex, carrying
this foolishness
one step farther...

there is one way it could
happen, you know. Right now.

If the murderer could kill you
without any of the rest of us
knowing which one he is...

then he'd be safe,
wouldn't he?
Yes. Of course.

But that's obviously
impossible, so please--
No, it isn't.

Even Slade Saunders
should think of that one,
Alex.

All I have to do is...

[thunder clapping]
(Alexander)
Benson! Turn on the lights!

Benson, you underhanded--

Will somebody.... Benson!

[grunting]

*[choir singing]

And another
small erasure here.

And that's that.

Do you mean to say that all I
just been through took place
while you were....

Yes, as I told you,
time on Earth...

has no relation with time
here, which is eternity.

[scoffs]

Well, they did it again.
And you still don't know.

Benson put out the lights.

Somehow, it doesn't seem
to matter so much this time.

That's good.
You see...

nobody seemed at all upset
at the idea
of my being killed.

Now I'm beginning to wonder
what sort of person I was.

Well, that would also involve
the kind of people they were.

And after all, none of you
were better than human.

I suppose not.
Of course, you do have
one clue.

Whoever killed you would
have to trust Benson
implicitly.

Be sure he wouldn't
turn on the lights again.

Of course.

They would have to be
partners, who had
already planned to kill me.

Carol.

So it was Carol.

Poor thing.

She'll get no good out of it.

She's certain to be caught.
She's not nearly
clever enough.

Few are.
I say...

you're really
quite a detective yourself,
you know.

Very good indeed.

I'm sorry.

I must sound
dreadfully patronizing.

A habit left over from Earth,
I suppose.

I must have been
rather obnoxious, I fear.

In fact,
under the circumstances...

how did I get in here at all?
All mystery writers
go to heaven.

Didn't you know?
They do?

Whatever for?

I really don't know.

[scoffs]

I must remember
to ask sometime.

Well...

why they would go to heaven
is certainly a mystery to me.

After she had assisted
her husband...

out of this veil of tears...

Mrs. Arlington sought solace
in a quick marriage
to Mr. Benson.

And they lived
happily ever after.

He in
the state penitentiary...

and she at
the women's detention home...

where she found
a very nice job
in the mailroom.

Vincent, of course,
became filthy rich.

Which reminds me that we were
to hear from the Committee
on Ways and Means.

However, they were
unable to attend.

They didn't have the money
for the bus fare.

In which case, I declare
this meeting adjourned.