Original subtitles

[crowd cheering]

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Thank you for that heartfelt

and technically augmented cheer.

[cheering continues]

Will the delegates please clear the isles?

Return to your seats, please.

I have an announcement.

Will the delegate from Yugoslavia please report here at once?

The Credentials Committee suspects you may have made a mistake.

And now, ladies and gentlemen,

I wish to place in nomination,

a friend of, a steadfast champion for,

and a man who

I’m certain you have already guessed his identity.

If not, I shall give you a hint.

He’s the producer of the following television play.

Hey, can you tell me where I can find a taxi?

I think there’s one uptown.

Nobody comes to Kirkland as a rule,

unless they got folks here to fetch ’em.

Say, have there been any other strange men

coming on the train the past two days?

No, sir, and it’s safe to say

I see everybody who gets off at this station.

It’s yours if you can remember to do one thing.

If a strange man does come in on the train,

you’re to call the Grand Hotel and ask for Henry Taylor. That’s me.

If I’m out, you leave word with the clerk, you understand?

Yeah. Henry Taylor.

Well, don’t worry, Mr. Taylor.

I never forget a name...

or a face.

And you needn’t mention this to anyone.

Not to anyone.

Not a soul, Mr. Taylor.

Is there something I can do for you?

I’d like to arrange to open an account.

Mr. Kern handles new accounts, but he’s in conference just now.

[Miss Foster] Won’t you wait?

Mr. Spengler will do nicely.

Mr. Kern is in conference with Mr. Spengler.

[man] If I didn’t come in there and maybe keep a check on you, William,

you’d have my bank in receivership.

You can take me out today, Sam.

[Mr. Kern] All right.

I should have left you in charge

instead of my idiot son-in-law.

[grunts]

Don’t jostle me now!

I can’t stand being jostled.

All right, young lady, open the gate!

You’re not an employee.

That’s right, I’m not.

Couldn’t be an employee, too. Wide awake.

You must be a costumer.

I hope to be.

New account?

William!

Come out here and take care of this gentleman.

Fifty-five years I was president of this bank.

And in all that time I never failed to shake hands with every new account.

That’s one thing folks could always say about Josiah Wingate.

All right, Sam, roll me out to the car.

Ms. Foster, if that gentleman wants to see me, don’t keep him waiting.

Josiah Wingate, my father-in-law.

He founded this bank.

They get difficult as they grow older.

Yes. Yes, they do.

He can’t seem to adjust to retirement.

Won’t you sit down, Mr...

Taylor. Henry Taylor.

I have a letter of credit from my bank in Chicago.

I’d like to deposit some funds in your bank while I’m here doing some research.

Oh. Research in what field, Mr. Taylor?

Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I’m sure you can.

Is for a book I’m doing

on the subject of unsolved crime.

And you came here to Kirkland to do research?

That’s right.

If you’ve seen a newspaper in the past two days,

you must know that Arnold Mathias is dead.

He was shot down while attempting to break out of state prison.

His cellmate Thomas Henry escaped, but Mathias was killed.

I, uh, I did hear a newscast.

And this is the bank where Mathias was employed in December of 1957.

You didn’t have to come to Kirkland to learn that.

No, I didn’t, but there are a few things I did have to come to Kirkland to find out.

Let’s go over a few points, Mr. Spengler.

Arnold Mathias was an employee here.

Hired by my father-in-law prior to his retirement and against my advice.

Because Mathias had a criminal record?

A juvenile record.

Let’s not make matter worse than they are, Mr. Taylor.

You see, my father-in-law has a philanthropic streak

where young people are concerned.

Mathias came from a broken home.

The usual story.

Mr. Wingate wanted to give him a chance.

And I wanted to protect our depositors.

But you kept him on after you succeeded Mr. Wingate.

There was no reason not to keep him on.

He was a willing worker, apparently honest.

Then, in the summer of ’57,

the Dire Construction Company transferred $500,000 in cash

from their St. Louis bank

to meet the local payroll on the flood control dam at the basin.

We had it placed in the vault.

Mr. Spengler, can I see you a moment, sir?

What are you doing here? You know you’re now allowed in the vault.

Besides, I thought everyone had gone home.

Well, they did sir, I had to stay and check these reports.

You know the rule that no one is permitted in the vault area

but Mr. Kern and myself.

I just wanted to see you about my cash reports, I can’t make them balance.

Well, then, go back to you cage and recheck the figures until you do.

Try it again, son. Try it again.

This is the first time Mathias has worked late since you hired him.

Just a coincidence.

I hope so.

[Mr. Spengler] It was only a few weeks later

that my father-in-law suffered the stroke

which necessitated his retirement.

I was left with full responsibility.

We were all busy.

Mathias worked late more frequently,

particularly on Friday when the Dire payroll had to be checked out

against the remaining funds.

There were two keys to the box.

Kern kept one.

I kept the other.

Sam Kern’s son was playing his first basketball game for State U that night.

Sam’s wife had telephoned three times to remind him

that they needed an early start if they were going to make it over icy roads.

[telephone ringing]

Naturally, he thought it was his wife calling again.

Sam returned with tragic news.

It had been my telephone ringing, not his.

It was our housekeeper saying that my wife...

had suffered a severe heart attack.

I left at once.

[engine cranking]

Well, there are four checks here that aren’t covered, Mr. Kern.

-Are they in the same account? -Yes, sir.

Let me see them.

Arnold, I can’t get my car started.

-Can you give me a push? -Certainly, Mr. Spengler.

It will take me a few minutes to get my car and bring it around front.

You told not to leave that old heap of mine on the lot

where the customers could see it.

Can I do anything, Will?

Yes. Will you call Dr. Clinton

and have him get over to the house right away?

Certainly.

Mathias did bring his car around and gave me the necessary push.

Afterwards, he went back inside.

Naturally, I didn’t return.

If you studied this case, Mr. Taylor, you know that that night...

my wife died.

And, uh, nobody locked the strongbox?

Nobody.

Not even Sam realized he left his key in it

until he opened the bank

in my absence, the following Monday.

And he saw the box was empty.

Mathias was arrested.

He never admitted to taking the money.

But he was convicted, Mr. Taylor.

This may be a small community, but we don’t observe the lynch law.

Arnold Mathias was defended by Ira Casey,

one of the finest defense attorneys in the state.

And I hired him.

Mathias was convicted nonetheless.

The jury was only out 45 minutes.

Do you know what Mathias did while he was in prison?

He obtained a set of court records of his trial,

and he went over every word of the testimony

until he found what he was looking for.

He marked it off, then he drew a map.

How do you know this?

A writer can’t reveal his sources of information. They might dry up.

Then why should I believe you?

Because I’m in possession of those records and the map.

I thought you might like to go over them with me,

if you really are interested in my book.

Do you, uh...

really believe there’s a market for such a book?

Yes, I do.

You see, there’s one very interesting point about this case.

If Mathias did take the $200,000 from your vault,

what did he do with it?

Not one dollar of it has ever been found.

Is... something wrong with my letter of credit, Mr. Spengler?

Will you excuse me a moment, Mr. Taylor?

I want to see if Mr. Kern is back.

"Arnold Mathias, 24,

convicted of stealing $200,000 from the Kirkland Mercantile Bank

three years ago,

was shot and killed this morning by a guard

while attempting to escape from state prison.

A cellmate, Thomas Henry, 40,

made good his escape in a laundry truck.

Are you a sailing man, Mr. Spengler?

Never been to sea, Mr. Taylor.

It’s, uh...

too bad Mathias tried to escape.

He might have been paroled.

Well, parole boards are notoriously slow in this state,

and Mathias had no friends to work for him in the outside.

Now, that’s not true.

I hired Ira Casey.

Who was a college classmate of yours and friend of almost 30 years.

What’s wrong with that?

Nothing.

I would’ve considered myself lucky to have such a friend

if $200,000 had disappeared from my bank.

I hired Casey to defend Mathias.

And the Kirkland Mercantile Bank.

You know, that’s a very model you have there, Mr. Spengler.

I don’t suppose you bought here in Kirkland.

I’m not chained to Kirkland.

I get out occasionally.

Out.

You know, that’s a very apt word, out.

That’s what Mathias wanted.

Out and a chance to clear his name.

Or to recover the $200,000 from wherever he’d hidden it.

Yes, but where could he have hidden it?

Now, suppose Mathias did take the money from the vault

but wasn’t convicted.

What could he do with it?

He couldn’t spend it without creating suspicion because, uh,

after all, he’s a bank teller on a fixed income,

just as your Mr. Kern is a bank officer on a fixed income.

Mmm-hmm.

And just as I am a bank president on a fixed income.

That’s my point.

Now the man who took that money out of the vault

would have had to do one of three things.

First, he could leave Kirkland,

which Mathias didn’t.

It’s here in the records.

Mathias made no attempt to leave Kirkland.

Instead, he went to a movie Friday night. Alone.

He caught cold.

And according to his landlady’s testimony,

he stayed in his room all day Saturday and Sunday.

I know what’s in the record. I was at the trial.

Here’s one of the sections that Mathias bracketed.

The district attorney questioned your housekeeper, Mrs. Holmes,

and she explained exactly what she had done following your wife’s attack.

She gave her the medicine prescribed by Dr. Clinton.

Question.

"Was Mrs. Spengler subject to such attacks?"

Answer. "Yes, sir."

"We knew it was only a matter of time.

I gave her the medicine, got her to bed, then called Dr. Clinton.

He asked me to call Mr. Spengler right away."

-Mmm-hmm -"That’s what I did."

Yeah. And what are you trying to prove?

I’m not trying to prove anything.

I’m just trying to discover what Mathias had hoped to prove.

Now, here.

A few pages further on,

another bracketed section appears.

This time it’s Sam Kern’s testimony

where he tells of your difficulty

in getting your car started.

This part is underlined.

"Mr. Spengler came back into the bank.

He asked me to call Dr. Clinton."

I wonder why Mathias would underline that.

You said, uh...

whoever took the money

could’ve done one of three things with it.

What’s the second one?

The second things that could’ve been done with the money was as you suggested, to hide it.

But where could have Mathias hidden it?

His room was searched at the time of his arrest.

His car was completely torn apart.

Where did he hide, Mr. Spengler?

[knock on door]

Yes?

Mr. Spengler, you said you wanted this report the minute it came in.

Oh.

Has Mr. Kern returned yet?

Mr. Kern went to lunch.

At this hour?

It’s after eleven, Mr. Spengler.

Mr. Kern always goes to lunch at this hour

in order to be back for the noon rush.

I was just going myself if you don’t need me.

No, no, no. That’s quite all right. Go ahead.

[shuts door]

Where did he hide it, Mr. Spengler?

Mr. Taylor...

you’ve quoted Ira Casey’s summation to the jury almost verbatim.

The only thing you’ve omitted

was his sentimental reference to Mathias’ tragic childhood.

Sentimental?

Does that denote disapproval?

Oh, I hired Casey.

Unfortunately for Mathias, Ira Casey was a friend, with a friend’s loyalty

and a friend’s blindness.

Didn’t you know that

Mrs. Holmes had called Dr. Clinton before she called you?

After all, your wife was his patient and had been for some time.

Yet, you asked Mr. Kern to go to the telephone

at the opposite end of the bank

and make a call which had certainly been made already.

As a result, you were alone in the vault for several minutes.

What was you third possibility?

You told me a very interesting story a few minutes ago, Mr. Spengler,

and an accurate one, except for some important details.

I’d like to point them out to you.

The Dire deposit must have been a temptation to you from the beginning.

Your marriage had been an unhappy one,

and your father-in-law was a domineering tyrant.

And you had a readymade suspect working right in the bank.

A record’s a tough thing to live down,

even a juvenile record.

The public is seldom forgiving when someone has made off with a bank deposit.

Strikes too close to the paycheck.

That’s what you were really thinking that day when a half a million dollars

moved into the vault of the farmers and merchants of Kirkland.

And then, on the day of the theft,

the day when Sam Kern was anxious to get away early

and Mathias was working late,

your wife suffered another heart attack,

which gave you the chance you’d been waiting for all these months.

You must have recognized it instantly.

All you needed to do was clear the vault area for a few minutes.

And then, when the job was done,

be able to go home to your stricken wife

while Mathias was still at work in the last teller’s cage,

and while the vault,

with the unlocked strongbox inside,

was still standing open.

The first step was to get Mathias out of the bank.

That was a little tricky.

It’s a small matter to flood an engine.

And on a cold and miserable December day,

no one would be likely to question your story

that the car just wouldn’t start.

You knew Mathias would be gone for several minutes.

His car was a good 200 yards away according to the map in this case.

That left only Kern to get out of the way.

Leaving you alone,

only a few steps away,

from $200,000.

And no one in all this time has thought to look for the Dire funds

in that third and only possible place.

That $200,000 was never found, Spengler,

because it never left this bank!

It’s here now, in the vault,

in your own deposit box.

Is that what Mathias told you

when you were cellmates, Mr. Henry?

The name is Taylor. Henry Taylor.

You didn’t think a small-town banker

would be clever enough to check on that letter of credit, did you?

Huh? Well, I did.

When I went outside I had Ms. Foster call that bank in Chicago,

and that bank in Chicago has no record of a letter of credit having been issued

to any Henry Taylor.

Do you think you can come in here off the street and blackmail me

with marked records and a ridiculous map?

I don’t care what a dead convict suspected!

We’re not discussing what a dead convict suspected!

There’s one thing you don’t know about the convict who didn’t die.

He wasn’t serving time for anything as petty as grand theft.

Thomas Henry’s a killer.

Thomas Henry is a convicted murderer with nothing to lose.

All I have to do is to dial that phone!

And Henry’s rough.

He can make the Sphinx talk if it would lead him to $200,000.

Now go ahead and dial it!

The number for the police station is 1-1-6.

No. Now don’t be a fool.

Have you ever been worked over by a really desperate man, Spengler?

Look...

why should you be concerned with Mathias?

Everybody thinks he took the money.

Besides, he’s dead.

But he didn’t take it, did he?

It’s in the vault, isn’t it?

Yes.

Most of it.

Now, be reasonable.

We can make a deal.

Thank you, Mr. Spengler.

We already have.

You made a mistake thinking I was that escape convict.

I’m not Thomas Henry.

But I was certain that I could ring a confession out of you

if I got here before Henry.

Lucky for you, I did.

My name is Lowden.

It’s Henry Taylor Lowden.

I was the guard at state prison who shot Mathias when he tried to escape.

I didn’t know he was innocent.

That’s why I’m here.

[police officer] Kirkland Police Station.

I shall never again accept a political nomination

without knowing the identity of the office involved.

I like being a collector,

but I rather hoped it would be taxes, not rubbish.

Perhaps I can resign next time when we reassemble at this same hall.

Until then, goodnight.