Original subtitles

*

*

You are very sleepy.

You can't seem to hold your eyes open.

You're beginning to drift.

You're drifting.

You're sound asleep.

Can you hear me?

Yes.

Say, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

"Thank you for tuning in."

Thank you for tuning in.

You are now going back in time.

Far back.

Back years and years ago.

You're drifting back through the years.

Back, back, back.

When you speak next, you will be 40 years old.

Forty?

I'm sorry, I mean four.

That's better.

I have a little shadow

that goes in and out with me.

And what can be the use of him?

Mommy, why do I cast such a large shadow?

I never liked the way she answered that question.

What games did you play?

I didn't play much.

I spent most of my time watching television.

Television?

When you were four?

Yes.

I was a very precocious child.

What did you see on television?

Stories.

Mostly stories like this one.

*

Someone told me they use it in dentistry these days.

Don't know what it's called.

Oh, well, it's a lot of bunkum anyway.

Oh, now, Mr. Pryor...

we've come a long way from the days when hypnosis

was regarded as a form of magic or witchcraft.

But it's surprising how many misconceptions

and fears remain.

Even among my students, in my class in parapsychology.

When I call for volunteer subjects,

I get the oddest reactions.

And the fact is, you can't hypnotize a person

against his will.

Could you hypnotize me right now?

Would you like me to?

No, I wouldn't.

You see what I mean about fears.

How about you, Lucy?

Are you afraid, too?

I, um, I think Adele's right.

I've managed to keep this husband of mine fooled so far,

so why take the risk of giving myself away?

What makes you think you have him fooled?

Well, I don't know.

Have I, darling?

Maybe you ought to let Miles hypnotize you

and we'll all find out.

Shall I?

The risk is all yours, my dear Mrs. Pryor.

-All right. -Wonderful!

Wonderful, darling.

I'm willing to chance it if Will is.

Well, how do we start?

Well, if you're serious,

let's get you in a nice, comfortable chair

near a light.

Yes, this one will do.

Darling, I think you're very brave to do this.

I don't know about this.

Oh, there's nothing to worry about.

All I want is your concentration.

There.

(chatter)

Oh, this is going to be wonderful.

Comfortable?

Yes.

Relaxed?

Completely.

Good.

Now I want you to concentrate

on this light.

Just stare at it.

*

That's right.

Just the light.

It's soft and steady.

And it burns, warm and glowing.

Softly...

moving now.

Slowly, slowly.

Slowly.

Floating in space.

Free of this room

as now you are free.

Free...

you and the light

and the sound of my voice.

Can you hear my voice?

Yes.

Good.

We're alone now, you and I.

And whatever I ask you, you must answer truthfully.

Will you do that?

Yes.

You mean she's hypnotized already?

I can't believe it.

Speak to her.

Lucy.

Lucy.

Lucy.

She doesn't hear you or see you.

Lucy, wake up.

I'm afraid she doesn't feel your touch either.

Let's go back in time.

Way back, through the years.

Back to when you were a child.

Nine years old.

You're nine years old now.

What school do you attend?

Miss Ewing's classes.

And what are you studying there?

Oh!

Reading, writing,

arithmetic, and drawing.

And what do you want to do when you grow up?

Hmm...

Marry.

(chuckles)

Let's come back to the present.

Back through the years.

Five years, ten.

Fifteen years.

You're grown-up now,

and you are married.

You've been married for five years.

And your name is Mrs. Lucy Pryor.

My name is Dora.

What is your full name?

Dora Evans,

and it please thee, sir.

What on earth is she talking about?

Shh.

Where do you live, Dora?

I abide at Number 43,

King's Street, Philadelphia.

And what year is this?

In the year of our blessed Lord, 1853.

Eighteen hundred--

Quiet.

Dora Evans...

you live in Philadelphia,

and this is 1853.

Tell me, are you married?

Do you have a husband?

I...

I beg of thee, sir, pray,

do not make me tell.

Very well.

We'll talk about something else.

Who is the president of the United States?

The honorable Benjamin Pierce.

Have you ever met him or seen him?

Oh, indeed.

He was here but a short while ago,

addressing a convocation

of the Society of Friends

on the question of slavery.

What do you like to do?

You like to sew, you like to...

work in your garden?

Oh, I have a lovely garden

which doth pleasure me greatly.

Would you like to show me your garden?

My garden?

Down there, by the elder trees.

And my nasturtiums and ferns.

And over there, the old mill wheel turns, and...

Hmm.

And here my rose arbor.

My rose arbor.

What about the rose arbor?

It was there I made my decision.

I took me stealthy to the house

and entered the parlor

where sat my good husband.

He did not see me enter.

I came up behind him and quickly--

*

(glass breaks)

(shrieks)

-No! -Lucy!

*

(thump)

Will!

*

*

I've never seen anyone dead before.

When I came out of the hypnosis...

and saw Will lying there...

And you have no recollection of the killing whatsoever?

No, they told me later.

The Thompsons and that dreadful man, Miles Farnham.

One can't commit an act contrary

to one's own nature.

Someone you love, it's not possible.

I still can't believe he's dead.

Believe me, I'm sorry to put you through this, Mrs. Pryor.

But try to understand, it is necessary.

There has to be a coroner's inquest,

and I must have the facts correct.

Yes, I understand.

You say you became this Dora Evans?

Yes, I...

I was wearing strange clothes.

I remember I had large hands

and there was hate.

I felt this hate in her,

and I couldn't resist.

I was drawn to her, dreading something,

something she wanted,

something she willed me to do.

I think that's enough for now.

Yes.

Why don't you go along home

and try to get some rest, Mrs. Pryor.

I'll let you know when the coroner's inquest

is going to take place.

Oh, it's this way.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Well, we've had some odd ones, but this...

All right, if you'll come in now, please.

Mr. Farnham, Mr. Sherman.

-Farnham. -How do you do?

Just there, if you will, Mr. Farnham.

Cigarette?

Thank you.

Got some news this morning I think might interest you.

I put through a call to the Philadelphia Historical Society.

It seems there actually was a Dora Evans.

Born September 2nd, 1828.

Married, no children.

On June 10th, 1853,

Dora Evans stabbed her husband with

a pair of pruning shears.

Yes, she killed him.

Is it possible that this dead woman, Dora Evans,

could influence the living?

Could she actually compel Mrs. Pryor

to kill her husband?

Obviously, she did.

Unless, of course, you think Mrs. Pryor

murdered her husband.

It's your suggestion, not mine.

Well, I'm just trying to find out what all this questioning

is about.

Your case, Mr. Burke,

if there is such a case,

isn't against Lucy Pryor.

I'm afraid, if anyone's to blame for his death, it's Dora Evans.

And you can't very well try her, now, can you?

Well, as she's been dead over 100 years,

I'm inclined to agree with you.

Yes.

Well, if there's nothing else?

Yes, thank you for your time, Mr. Farnham.

My secretary did get your home address and phone number--

Yes, he did.

And if I can help, please call on me.

I will let you know when the coroner's inquest

will take place.

-Goodbye. -Bye.

What do you make of it?

It's curious.

Of course, there's absolutely

no case against her.

No jury in the world would convict her.

No, of course they wouldn't.

A Professor Farnham to see you, ma'am.

Oh?

Ask him to come in, Alma.

Hello, Mrs. Pryor.

Did I disturb you?

I hope not, but I had a sudden impulse

to look in and see how you were.

Won't you sit down?

Thank you.

Oh, would you mind if I have a drink?

Thank you.

You know, I had a talk with that Burke fellow today

after you left.

And a fascinating thing came up.

Did he tell you?

Tell me what?

About Dora Evans.

She actually existed.

Oh, a long time ago.

And it seems that she, um...

she killed her husband.

With, of all things,

a pair of pruning shears.

That's rather poor taste

at a time like this, don't you think?

You mean you didn't know about it?

Professor Farnham, unless there is some

reason for this conversation--

My dear Mrs. Pryor,

I have decided to cut myself in.

Cut yourself in?

On what?

Let's not pretend anymore, Mrs. Pryor.

You need me.

I beg your--

Please don't argue with me, Mrs. Pryor.

I'm the hypnotist, remember?

It's my profession.

Now, a little judicious searching

through any good library,

I'm sure most anyone could've come up

with a Dora Evans.

Ah, but so few would conceive

the brilliance of using it

as a peg on which to hang a murder.

That's a monstrous accusation.

But it would be perfect, wouldn't it?

I'm the one person who can uphold your story.

With my sworn statement,

this would never get beyond the coroner's inquest.

Without it, my dear Mrs. Pryor,

I'm afraid you might find yourself in one of those

sordid tabloid trials.

Alma!

Alma!

Professor Farnham is leaving.

Now get out of my house.

Get out of my house.

(gavel taps)

All right, please.

This Coroner's Board of Hennepin County

is now in session.

The clerk will enter the opening data.

Convening board is now in session to determine death,

cause and circumstance of said Will Pryor,

killed October 13th, 1958,

at his residence in Glan Mallow Hill.

Doctor Malcolm Edderberry, examining physician.

Death certificate signed 1:45 am,

morning of October 13th, 1958.

Mr. Farnham...

this is key testimony you're giving here,

since we're dealing in a somewhat mystical area,

and you being an accredited...

What is this here?

Meta...

Metaphysician.

Thank you-- metaphysician.

Now, this transference, as you refer to it,

this exchange of body and spirit with Dora Evans,

is that a possibility?

Not only a possibility, gentlemen, a fact.

I can cite a dozen other instances such as the one

that Mrs. Pryor went through.

It was a transitive exchange with a person long deceased.

Glen, if you don't mind,

I'd like to question the witness.

Well, that's your prerogative.

Mr. Farnham...

I'd like you to tell the Coroner's Board

something about this vast experience you've had.

Specifically, the year 1938, Nassau County, New York.

I have here a police report of an indictment against

a Miles John Farnham in May of that year

on charges of fraud and malpractice.

It wasn't proven!

I was exonerated.

The whole thing was a mistake.

I will prove that Mr. Farnham,

or Professor Farnham as he likes to call himself,

is not an accredited hypnotist.

And that Mrs. Lucy Pryor

was not in a state of hypnosis at the time

of the stabbing of her husband.

That's not true, she was under hypnosis.

I verified that.

We have only your word.

Now, I submit these police reports on the character

of this man's word.

I disacknowledge his claims of professionalism,

and I ask that this case be brought

before People's Court for grand jury trial.

(court muttering)

I object to his inference.

What does he mean I'm not accredited?

It's an inexact science.

We don't carry graduation diplomas about

in our hip pockets.

This lady was under hypnosis.

If you don't believe me, if anyone has any doubts,

with Mrs. Pryor's permission,

I'll prove it to you right here and now.

Well, I hardly think that Mrs. Pryor--

No, I don't mind, Mr. Carson.

Where do you want me, Professor?

In that chair, please.

Would you raise your veil?

May I please have complete silence?

Now, you remember the light in the living room?

Yes.

I want you to concentrate on this light.

Soft, steady light.

Warm and glowing.

Floating in space.

Free in this room.

Free, as you are free.

You and the light

and the sound of my voice.

Can you hear my voice?

Yes.

You're going back in time now.

Years are slipping by.

*

What is your name?

*

My name is Dora Evans.

*

And it please thee, sir.

My garden is there by the elder trees.

And just here is my rose arbor.

It was there I made my decision.

*

I took me stealthy to the house.

*

I submit this lady is in deep hypnosis.

You can have her examined by any doctor you may choose

to verify this.

I guarantee, she is not accountable for any act

she performs in this condition.

She is under the direct control

of the spirit of Dora Evans.

The spirit of a woman dead for over 100 years.

I came up behind him and--

(excited shouting)

Somebody get a doctor, quickly!

Hurry up!

There's one on the lower floor.

*

Well, end of a pretty good case against Mrs. Lucy Pryor.

Come on, darling, just try not to think.

We'll get you home and into bed right away.

George, get the car, will you?

All right.

Darling, sit there quietly.

I'll only be a moment.

Oh, Mr. Burke, would you keep an eye on her?

I'm going across the street and get some smelling salts.

-Certainly. -Thank you.

May I have a drink of water?

Thank you.

Do you have a cigarette?

Thanks.

I needed this.

Lucy, the car is downstairs, dear.

Mrs. Pryor.

There's no one anywhere near us.

I've no recording devices,

no one can ever verify what you say

at this moment.

You're free now.

Free of me and the courts.

So, just to satisfy my curiosity...

did you plan the whole thing?

Wouldst not thee like to know?

*

What do you think of this?

He regressed me and then only brought me halfway back.

I...

Good heavens, everyone's asleep.

That last commercial must have hypnotized them.

It put the entire audience under.

(fingers snapping)

That didn't-- that didn't do any good.

Since I can't wake you up,

I can only leave you with this post-hypnotic suggestion.

Next week when you awaken,

you will feel compelled to tune in again

when we promise to bring you another story

and three less soporific commercials.

Good night.