All language subtitles for East of Piccadilly

Subtitles: Lu�s Filipe Bernardes

- Good evening, Ginger.
- Peanuts?

Yes.

- Drink?
- No, thank you.

- A cup of coffee?
- No.

Well, I could do with one myself.

I'll make some.
Perhaps you'll change your mind.

That song's sung by Sadie Jones.

- Ever heard of her?
- No.

Nobody ever has.

Nobody ever will.

Don't touch me.

Don't touch me... don't touch me...

Don't touch... No!

I suppose Tamsie's books are exciting.

But, of course, he can't write.

He doesn't have to.
He uses a dictaphone.

- It's a kind of 21st birthday.
- What?

- Yes, Tamsie's 21st book is out today.
- Oh, what's it called?

Death Under the Arches.

Silly titles they get for these
things, don't they?

- Thanks.
- Can I get you a drink?

- No, thanks, I'm just going.
- Already?

Hm-hmm. This kind of party brings
a rush of something to my head.

- A rush of what?
- Apathy.

- Really? Why did you come?
- I didn't. I fell into it.

Maxie dragged me here
by the hair almost.

I don't even know who's giving
the party, except...

I gather it has something to do
with those.

Yes, it's his 21st book.

- What energy.
- What talent.

Are you his agent or something?
I've just read the last chapter.

- It's usual to begin at the other end.
- I don't have to.

I can always guess a solution
for this kind of thing...

after reading the first two or
three pages, so...

I can skip the next two hundred.

Modest little thing, aren't you?

- Have one of these?
- Thanks.

You know, I could write that
kind of thing in my sleep.

Really?

Do you know something about these
detective writers?

If ever they came across
a crime in real life,

their only hope of solving it would be
if the murderer tattooed...

...his name and address on the body.

And his telephone number.

How do you come by this superior
act of yours?

It's no act. You see, I learn
my crime firsthand.

- Oh... you're...
- A crime reporter.

Is your name by any chance
Penny Sutton?

Hm, what's yours?

Tamsie Green.

Oh...

Oh, dear.

This is what they call an awkward
moment, isn't it?

Shall I just slip unobtrusively away?

No, stop.
Just stay and brazen it up.

You know, I think... I think I could
probably learn a lot from you.

Hm-hmm, tell you what I'll do,
next case I'm on I'll take you along.

- Thanks, thanks very much.
- Sort of show you the ropes.

Very kind of you.

And now I really must be going.
I have to get back to the office.

- And that's a lie.
- How'd you know?

A shade too glib.

We always used to make it sound more
urgent when I was in Fleet Street.

- Oh, you were in Fleet Street?
- Hm-hmm, six years.

- What doing?
- Crime reporter.

Oh.

Oh well, now I think I really
will be going.

Good evening.

Next time you take me to a party...

...you tell me where we're going, who's
house it is and what they do for a living.

Hello?

Hello...

Well listen, old chap, I'm afraid
you've got...

Just get in a cab and go over to
Greek St. right away.

Why, sure.

Okay... What was that number
of yours again?

175, good.

Maxie, look after everything
here, will you?

See that everybody has drinks
and things, hold the baby.

Oh, no, you don't. The last time
you went chasing out after a girl...

Who's chasing after anybody?
Now be a good host, sweetie pie.

- I'll put poison in their drinks.
- Anything you like. Enjoy yourself.

Thanks, pal!

- Oh, it's you.
- Sorry.

Driver, 175, Greek St.
Go, quick as you can make it.

Hey, this sort of thing may work in
your novels, but it's no use in real life.

- Driver...
- Okay, Greek St.

- I'm merely taking you at your word.
- Listen...

You said that next time you went on
a story you'd take me, show me the ropes.

- But I'm not going on a story.
- Oh, yes you are. At least I am.

I got a phone call. it wasn't
meant for me.

A thick scared voice,
afraid of its own sound.

You've been reading Death Under
the Arches.

- What did he say?
- To come to 175, Greek St. right away.

There'd been a murder.

- And you fell for it.
- Sure.

Tania! What are you doing here?

- Well, what do you think? I live here.
- I haven't see you for months.

Well, why don't you come
to the club?

I've been too busy.

- You haven't come to see me, have you?
- Er... No, no...

We're, uh... we're looking for
a chap called, er...

- O'Connor.
- Yes.

Never heard of him. Didn't you look
at the bells?

I couldn't make out the names.

Tell me, what kind of unholy alliance
is there in this place?

Oh, I've got nobody in here, Tamsie.
You know me, I wouldn't.

I mean in this house.
What goes on here?

Oh, you mean them noises.
Don't ask me.

I've got a lease. But I'm getting out
at the end of this week.

You've got to hang on to your hair in this
place in case it's lifted right off your head.

Tania!

Oh, that's my, er... brother.

He's just off a boat and...
hanging around loose.

- I had to take him in.
- Yes, of course.

- How many floors are there above here?
- Two and an attic.

Why don't you come to the club
more often, Tamsie?

The girls are always asking,

"Where's Tamsie,
that he doesn't turn up nowadays?"

- Tania!
- Oh...

- Your brother's getting anxious.
- Yes...

So long. See you soon.
Goodbye.

Bye.

Well, do we go up, or don't we?

Afraid I'll get to know more
of your private life?

Come on.

Where's Tamsie, that he never
shows up nowadays?

Oh, didn't you know, girls?
Tamsie's joined hands with Watson...

always chasing round and round...

Hold on to Daddy, dear,
you'll be alright.

Well?

Oh... er...

Is this Mr... Mr. Robinson's flat?

No!

The man must be bats.
Completely bats.

Where do we go now, up or down?

Oh, I suppose anything now,
Jack the Ripper, if you like.

Oh...

- What is it?
- I thought it was a ring.

Let's have a look.

- Well, it is a ring, you know.
- You'd better keep it.

I'm going to.

- Mr., er...
- McGregor?

Why, no, Harlem J. Nash
of Idaho, that's me.

Oh, I see... Well, um...

Try the next floor down,
or maybe you have the wrong house.

- Sorry...
- There's nobody upstairs.

Well, thanks for the scoop.

- See you in the front page tomorrow.
- Well, I'm sorry.

Let's get back to the party
I'll think of an apology on the way.

You can skip the apology and get me a drink.
But it'll have to be a very special one.

Do you see what I see or is that
a light up there?

He must have made a mistake.
Come on.

Yes... yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Top floor, 175 Greek St.

Stockings tied around her neck.

We'll stand by for your story, Penny.

Yes, heaven knows we need it.
We haven't got a darn thing.

The front page is a poultice.

Tom!

Tom!

Take the duchess's divorce
off the front page...

...and put it where she'll have
to hunt for it.

175 Greek Street.

No, nobody told me.

I went there with a girl...

Well, pardon me if I don't see
the joke.

We don't joke about murder
at Scotland Yard.

- I was merely saying...
- And listen, Mac,

I don't want to get mixed up in this.

Don't worry, you won't be.

We're not going to advertise your books
at the expense of Scotland Yard.

Where shall I find you?

There's a cafe next door.
I'll be looking out for you there.

If Mac thinks you have anything to do
with the press, he'll shut up like a clam.

I'll, er... I'll have to pass you
up as a friend.

You don't mind, do you?
Or do you?

If you think I'm the type, I daresay
I can pit on quite an act for you.

When are you going to show up
again at the club, Tamsie?

No wonder girls get done in.

Oh, hello.
You're Ginger, aren't you?

Yes, Jerry tells me you want
to have a word with me.

That's right, sit down.

Must be someone of the family, eh?

- And that's all you know.
- S'wop me bob, guv.

Hm, thanks, governor.
Well, at least I'll get back to my peanuts.

- Oh, what a night.
- I like it.

Yes, beautiful.
Visibility practically nil.

- Who wants visibility?
- Listen to him.

He's always got to be different
to anyone else.

- She's got you taped, Joe.
- Nobody's got me taped.

Look at that fog out there.

It comes down over London
as though the Almighty...

...was sick and tired of its
noise and din.

The people creep about the street.

Everything's quiet and sly 'cause
nothing's real till the fog goes again.

- See what I mean?
- Quite.

Thought you would.

Go on, strike me own fanny
round the arses.

- Does he always talk like that?
- Depends on who's listening to him.

Come on, Ginger, we're going
in to 175.

Not on your life, governor. Being outside
that house gives me the creeps.

Who knows what the inside
will do to me.

- Why outside?
- The noises that come from it.

Strike a knife!
You ask anybody in the street.

Come on, Ginger... here.

- Go on, governor!
- Go on nothing. Drink it up.

Come on.
And you stop here.

If anyone looks like using
the phone, get a way in first.

Go on, strike me own fanny
round the arses.

And don't you be flippant, you're in
on the story of your life.

- Not half, I'm not, mate.
- Oh, you're hopeless.

- Well, Tamsie?
- I told you!

I went into the room by sheerest
chance and there she was.

- Stretched out like a rug.
- Sure she was dead?

Dead like a rabbit.

- Who's this?
- Ginger Harris, sir.

He served a girl with peanuts
this evening.

She went into 175 with a man.
He could identify her.

Oh, last to see her alive, what.

George, come with me.
You stay at the door.

It's in here, Mac.

Mac, at this moment you could
knock me down with a feather.

Sorry, but I haven't got a feather.

She was lying exactly here.
Here head there, her feet there...

and the stocking around her neck.

Don't worry, Tamsie, this isn't the first
time there's been a murder and no body.

But we'll find it alright, we always do.

George, go down to the yard
and have a look around.

The Yard, sir?

Not Scotland Yard, you idiot, this yard.
See what you can see.

- Might put somebody off their game, sir.
- I'll risk that.

You know, Tamsie, murder is
comparatively simple.

But it's a very difficult matter
to hide the body,

which is what every murderer
would like to do.

Sooner or later it turns up,
gives up all its secrecies.

There's very little mystery
about crime, you know.

Oh, don't say things like that, Mac.

You're striking at the very heart
of the crime-writing industry.

I can't help it, my boy.

As a rule, the body denounces it's murderer
almost as plainly as if he could speak.

Scolds me, judge, my peanuts.

- What peanuts?
- The ones I sold to her.

- Hm, and then she came in here, I suppose.
- Yes, sir.

- With a man.
- That's right.

Then he came out 'bout five minutes later.
'Cause a remember thinking to meself...

We're not interested in your
thoughts, Mr. Harris.

- No, sir.
- I don't suppose they're any more edifying

- ...than your peanuts.
- No, sir.

- S'wob me bob, guv, it's a third degree.
- What else do you know?

I don't know a thing s'wop me bob,
except this is a funny house.

People pop in and murder folk,
and pop off,

and the screams and corpses
what walk out on you.

Alright, alright, alright.

It isn't alright, it's all wrong,
if you ask me.

- Well, I haven't.
- Haven't what?

- Asked you... Will you be quiet!
- Well there's democracy for you.

Did you know this girl?

Well, you're supposed to talk
to them, ain't you?

- Did you know her name?
- No, sir.

Do you think you could turn the
beacon light of your intelligence...

...on to the recollection of the
girl's escort?

- What, sir?
- The man she was with!

Well... he was about that height.

Not too fat, not that thin either...

Dark, I think, or kind of brown.

- Hm, you must have seen his passport.
- No, sir, I never.

- Would he be wearing an overcoat?
- Yes.

- And a hat?
- Yes, pulled down over his eyes.

And a sword, and a cloak, I suppose.

Oh, no, sir, nothing fancy.

Well, Tamsie, all we have to find,
apart from the body,

is a man with an overcoat and a hat.

Your friend's got X-ray eyes.

I don't fancy him so.

Did know we wouldn't be walking
on common ground like us, mate.

He ought to be an the top of
Nelson's Column, among the pigeons.

They'd learn him.

Any acquaintance of yours in here?

Nope.

Well, it must be either a woman
over forty or a man.

It's a man, over forty, and American.

Gone to do his winter's sleep.
Hibernating.

Go on! If only old Fred had got
one of those.

- Who's Fred?
- My brother. He's in jail.

- Why?
- 'Cause he hadn't one of them.

Oh, keeps a room but doesn't
sleep in it.

Pretty ritzy taste in cigars.

Hm, unfamiliar brand, but nice
looking tobacco.

- Have one.
- Not for a bob.

I say, look at this.

- Nation, comics, New Yorker...
- Well, what about it?

It's not the reading you'd expect
from a chap living in a dump like this.

A lot of funny people live in Soho.

If you're not careful, you'll be joining
your brother Fred, my lad.

Go on!

Let's try the floor below.

Well, we'll leave things as we
found them.

- It'll only make you sick.
- Go on!

- Go on!
- For heaven's sake stop saying "go on".

Can't a fellow enjoy a joke
if he wants to?

Open up, police!

Blimy, can't a guy lock himself
up for the night?

Oh, we've met before, I think.

Never.

I beg your pardon.
You may have seen me.

I'm not aware that you've ever
been presented to me.

You're Mark Struberg, the actor.

Sir Mark Struberg.

Arise, Sir Mark, and accept the reward
of every great Shakespearean actor.

Alas, poor Yorick.

I knew him.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, go in.
We want to talk to you.

Come in, come in.

Come in, come in, come in,
come, in.

Well?
Well, well, well?

Have you seen or heard anything
out of the ordinary tonight?

I always see and hear
extraordinary things.

Haven't got a body hidden away
by any chance, have you?

Oh, yes!
I've got bodies.

Five of them.
Psst!

Five dramatic critics.

They're not quite dead.

But they soon will be.

Quite soon.

Shhh!

Where are these bodies of
yours, Struberg?

Sir Mark, if you please.

I'll show you.

Thou canst not say I did it.

Never shake thy gory locks at me.

Christ!

This is the Evening Standard critic.

This is the News.

And he...
Yes, this is the Times.

He's pretty far gone.

And Ivor Brown of the Observer.

This...

This...

James Engert.

- He's in a bad way.
- A very bad way!

- They're mine! You can't have them!
- It's alright, we don't want them.

Come on.

Avant!

Begone! Thou hast set me
on the rack!

Blimy, you wouldn't leave me with
that starter, would you?

- Friend of yours?
- I've run across him before.

- Is he Sir, Mac?
- No, no!

He used to be on Hall.

He's one of those blokes with
a freak memory.

The audience used to ask him dates
and things and he never failed.

He was billed as the great know-all.
Then it struck him that he could act,

so he started a repertory company
with himself as the star.

Flopped, lost all his money and funnily
enough lost his memory too.

How do you know him?

Oh, he's made himself a bit
of a nuisance now and again.

- Dangerous?
- In what way?

Oh, er... homicidal perhaps?

We don't know... yet.

- Who lives here?
- A girl.

She works at the Orange Grove,
a night club across the street.

- Oh!
- What do you mean "oh", Mac?

I didn't know till tonight that
she lived here.

Hello, kid, sorry to bother
you again.

- That's alright.
- This is Detective Inspector MacKenzie.

What do you think you're
up to, Tamsie?

I'm in a hurry, I've got a date
with a lord.

Well, I wouldn't deprive the aristocracy
of its established privileges..

...but I'd like a word with you
before you go.

Alright, come in.

- Excuse me, but I'm late already.
- That's alright, you carry on.

Do you mind if I sit down, miss, er...
miss, er...

Just call me Tania. All the boys do.

The inspector isn't one
of the boys, Tania.

- What's your other name?
- Smith.

Tamsie, perhaps you'd better
explain to miss... Smith.

Well, listen, kid, tonight I got
a call from somebody...

...who mistook me for somebody else.

- Oh, I know that kind of gag.
- Now, don't interrupt.

This person asked me to come along here,
so I came and I called on everyone.

- Including me.
- Including you.

And upstairs in the attic I found
the body of a girl.

- A body?
- Yes, strangled.

- But you're kidding, Tamsie!
- Uh-uh.

You mean the strangler's been here
in this house?

Probably, but the body's gone.

- Oh, you are kidding.
- I'm not.

I'm not going to stay in this house
another minute.

- It was bad enough before.
- How do you mean?

Haunted or something.
The strangest things happened.

Humph, you're telling us.

I'm going now.
Good night, all.

Heard anything out of the
ordinary tonight?

Apart from that bell ringing
and a little chain racking...

everything's been very peaceful.

Blimy, this is the queerest house
I've ever been in, no mistake.

There's no mistake. The queerest people
seem to be here.

That's right, mate, we're here.

I've looked around the yards,
there's nothing there.

Well, nothing that's got anything
to do with this case.

Well, we'll get on with our inquiries.

I'll let you know, Tamsie,
when the body turns up.

Well, where's my story?

- No story tonight.
- Huh?

The body's gone.

What are you talking about?
Bodies don't disappear.

- Except in the thrillers you write.
- Well, this one has.

- What did the inspector say?
- Oh, he didn't worry.

- Not worry?
- Oh, he says it will turn up.

- Just like that, it'll turn up?
- Hm-hmm.

And in the meantime, I suppose,
I have to call up the office and say,

sorry, boys, no story tonight,
we have to wait for a body.

Yes, dear.

Editors just love being led up
the garden, don't they?

- Where's that telephone?
- Wait.

- What?
- Tuppence.

Oh...

Thank you.

Well, come on, let's have your ideas.

No problem.
"Young Girl Found Dead in Flat."

What to you think we're trying
to do with the story, hush it up?

- How about, "The Killer Strikes Again"?
- No, no, that won't do.

I have it! "Soho Killer Strikes Again."
Yes, that's it!

Hello? Yes, Penny?

What?

But it can't!

It can't, not at this time of night.
Why, we've...

We've held back the third
edition for it.

No one's saying it can't.
It has!

See here, Penny. She's not going
to get away with it.

You're not going to let her
get away with it!

She's dead and she's got
to stay dead.

Unless she shows up dead by
tomorrow morning, you're fired!

Do you understand me, fired!

Put that cow's divorce back
on the front page.

Who taught you to play
like that, Joe?

Nobody teaches me anything.
I teach myself.

- Like it?
- Yes, I thought it was pretty good.

- I asked her.
- Oh, sorry.

- Yes, I liked it.
- I'll play it some more, sometime.

He thinks this place is a club
and he's the star performer.

Who said?

Clump, clump, clump, whenever
there's any work to do.

One of these days I'll bat it
over your head.

Listen to her long enough
and you'll know all about me.

- Perhaps.
- Perhaps.

Tell me, Joe, have you seen any cars
or taxis hanging around here tonight?

Visibility nil.

Served any suspicious-looking
customers?

Yes... two.

Oh...

They brought a body into the house
across the road.

- They did?
- Yes.

Nothing unusual about that,
of course.

It was a drunk.

Come on, let's go.

Hang it against us, Ma.

Good boy, Joe. There's only two things
to do with that kind.

Keep your mouth shut
or I'll shut theirs.

You leave it to Joe,
he'll know what to do.

I'm smart, me.

Oh, there's your girlfriend, Tania.

- I see.
- See what?

So this is the club she was
talking about.

Yes.

Yes, I used to come here quite a lot
for coffee for my books.

You'd be surprised what a lot
these girls know.

I'm sure.

I'd, um... I'd like to bring Tania
over here.

- Do.
- Puss, puss.

Excuse me.

Oh, Tamsie!

So I thought perhaps you'd
join us...

...and tell us all you know about
this house of yours.

How about the mad hatter
on the second floor?

Oh, him, he's harmless.

But who owns the place,
who do you pay the rent to?

Now you've got me on the spot, Tamsie,
because I don't pay my own rent.

- Why should you?
- That's what I think.

There's another man on the third floor,
about forty, rather bald...

...and with an American accent.

- Oh, yes, I met him on the stairs.
- Nothing doing?

Uh, no... he kind of made
a pass at me but, er...

I sized him up. Down and out,
living from hand to mouth.

What I want is security.

When he opened the door to us
this evening...

...he looked as if he'd been
standing behind it.

Maybe he's one of those
keyhole guys.

Well, any guy in trouble would look
through his own keyhole.

He told us there was no one
on the top floor.

He wouldn't know.

Nobody knows anything about anybody else
that lives in a house like that.

It's just as well too.

May I have the pleasure?

Yes.

Nice little child of nature, Tania.

Innocent... like Mata Hari.

You know, you independent women
miss a lot in life.

- What?
- Well, your rent, for instance.

Well, if find mine a strain,
I'll let you know.

I'll live for that day.
What are you going to eat?

I don't know... But it's been a funny
sort of evening, hasn't it?

Even if you didn't get your story.
The fried chicken here is very good.

Perhaps I'll have some.
You know,

I can't help wondering about that
other man, the American.

- I wonder just how much he knows.
- Or any of them.

That crazy actor bloke,
or even Tania.

Or the man she said was her brother.

Yes, but how could they have carried
the body downstairs and out of the house?

I don't know, it beats me.

Yes, I think...

I think fried chicken is a good idea.

Well, here's to murder,
with or without bodies.

Hello?

Am I alone?

No, Mac, my room is full of dancing girls
and I'm reclining on a gold couch.

I wouldn't put it past you.

Can you remember what that girl
had on last night?

No, not that one, the one you found
on the floor.

A green dress, gold dangle on the right
wrist and a paste brooch?

Yes, and a green old belt
and a gold buckle.

I thought that you'd like to know
that we found the body...

...this morning on the steps of the
Atheneum Club.

What? That's not possible,
only bishops go there.

Possible or not, that's where she was.

You'd better com round here.
I shall want you to identify the body.

Hm, that'll be fun.

Good story, Penny.

- I know.
- Oh, it's not so good as all that.

- It lacks something.
- Hm?

Women can't write about crime
with... authority.

- Jealous?
- No. But I don't think your line is crime.

What then?
Ways for the Wise?

Yes. Or, uh... Better Babies
for Better Mothers.

Have you been telling her that
your mother came from Ireland?

Well, we found out something
about that girl.

What?

Of course, you're from the press,
I keep forgetting.

I am the most discrete woman
in Fleet Street.

- Oh, let her stay.
- I'll be good, really I will.

I'll take a chance.

The girl's name was Sadie Jones.

Then do you think it was
the strangler again?

Sorry.

She was what they call
a daughter of joy.

I can't ever think why, can you?

Well, judging by all those silver fox
capes they go flashing around...

- I should have thought...
- Na, na, na.

- Yes, Mac?
- I was only going to point out...

...that the criminal picked all his
victims from the same class.

- Then it was the strangler!
- Come on, Penny, under the table.

Sorry.

- Any chance of an arrest?
- All in good time.

Anyhow, you know the kind of man
you're trying to trace.

We do indeed. All we have to do
is to find a man with a kink.

- You mean a modern Jeckyll and Hide.
- Something like that.

Men of that sort aren't confined
to one class.

It might be a rich man,
or a fellow like Ginger...

...or even you, Mac.

So that's how you write
your thrillers.

The point is to penetrate
his camouflage.

George!
And that requires intelligence.

- Rules one of us out.
- Definitely.

Here you are, sir. These will do
justice to any film star.

But how do you account for the body
being found on the steps of the Atheneum?

You want to know too much,
young woman.

Take a look at this X-ray
of the body.

All done after death.

I don't know what it conveys to a thriller
writer, but it tells me a good deal.

And I'm taking no chances as to what
it may mean to a newspaperwoman.

Well, Mac, we'll be getting along.
But we'll keep in touch, if we may.

I know, like leeches.

It's very nice of you
and I really am grateful.

That's alright.
By the way, would you like these?

- What are they?
- Tickets for a show, I can't use them.

Oh, it's a new thriller.
Like to come?

Love to... with you.

- Your ice, sir.
- Thank you.

Thank you very much, sir.
Thank you.

- Ice in your drink?
- No, thanks, it waters it down.

Tell me something about yourself, apart from
the fact that you're a tough newspaperwoman.

- What would you like me to tell you?
- I think I'd like you to be an orphan.

- Born in China?
- Stolen by a gypsy.

- Lives in a forest?
- Yes, bred by a chimpanzee..

...working in Fleet Street to keep
your foster parents.

In bananas.

An idea for your next heroine.

We ought to collaborate.

I don't like collaboration, one does all
the work and the other just sits around.

Oh, I wouldn't mind sitting around.

Just a minute.

- Look at that!
- What is it?

Don't you remember that cigar band
I picked up on the stairs?

- Uh-huh.
- Well, I kept it.

That's its mate.
- Well, what about it?

You're going to breed them
or something?

Oh, do be serious.

I think that's the man who told us
there was no one in the attic.

Of course I don't want you to go back
if you're bored, Mr. Kuloff.

Yeah, well I am bored.

But I think it's thrilling and everybody
thinks it's thrilling, except you.

It's about as thrilling as performing
seals to me.

Now, come on, let's go someplace else.

They're going.
Let's follow them.

Don't you like it?

Yeah, but it sort of sticks in
your throat, you know.

Oh, I'm sorry, honey, but...

I've got something hanging around my neck,
you know, business worries.

- You haven't lost your money, have you?
- What money?

Your money, your fortune,
you know what I mean.

- Sometimes there's a crash or...
- No, no, nothing like that.

Last night he looked like a tramp.

- Look at him now.
- Well, lots of days I look as a tramp.

A pair of old flannel bags
and a dirty shirt.

- You'll hate it.
- I'll hate it?

Yes, when you see me messing
around the house.

- Whose house?
- Ours.

- Waiter.
- Sir?

Waiter, madam is feeling a little faint.
She's just had some bad news.

- Could you bring some brandy?
- Certainly, sir, at once.

It's you who's going to need
the brandy.

How many yachts have you got,
Mr. Kuloff?

Why, only one.

I once knew a man who had three.

Yeah, well the only Englishman I know with
three yachts is in Wormwood Scrubs.

Waiter, would you happen
to know who that is?

Sitting opposite us down below,
with the girl in the black frock.

- Lighting his cigar, madam?
- Yes.

Why, it's Mr. Kuloff. Comes here
every year from New York.

- Mr. Oscar Kuloff, you know him?
- Why, do you?

Yes, he's a millionaire.
He has a villa in Cannes,

a villa in Capri and a penthouse
in New York.

Just a homebird.

They say he bought a castle
in Hungary...

...and transported it brick for brick
to his Long Island estate.

- What, no yacht?
- Oh, yes he has the most magnificent yacht.

Where does he live when he's
in London?

- Oh, he has a suite in the Savoy.
- A magnificent suite!

Oh, yes!

So that's Mr. Kuloff.

Why, this is going to be the best
Jeckyll and Hyde story in years.

A magnificent story.

Oh, please, let me get in
with it first.

Take me home now, will you, Tamsie?

I'm going to be up at the
crack of dawn.

Waiter.

I thought I told you not to show your face
in this office for at least a week.

I know, I know.

I just came in to see how
you were... getting along.

Hm, that was very thoughtful of you.

I have an idea there's a very good
story going to break.

Yes, you had that idea the other night.

It was a little premature then.

I've discovered that there's a man in that
house in Greek St. leading a double life.

- There's nothing unusual about that.
- This is!

- His name there is Harlem J. Nash.
- Hm, sounds rather bogus to me.

It is bogus. His name is Oscar Kuloff,
he has a suite at the Savoy,

and he's by way of being a millionaire.

Did you look him up in the library?

There's nothing in your library,
there never is.

This is all I could find.

Oscar Kuloff, born 1890,
educated privately,

president of the Electrical
Microphone Corporation,

residences in Long Island, Cannes,
Capri,

has many hobbies... I bet there's one
they don't know about.

Became an American citizen in 1920.

- And he has a room in Greek Street.
- Yes!

When I saw him first he looked
like a tramp.

- Jeckyll and Hyde?
- That's what I said.

Well, I'll cable New York and tell
them to get a line on him.

Keep your mouth shut, Penny,
it might be a scoop...

...this time.

It is a scoop this time.

I'll just stick around until
you get a reply.

Stick around nothing, we have a nice
little flower show for you to cover.

Flower show.

Who do you think I am,
Beverly Nichos?

Phone your story, if anything comes in the
boys will let you have it when you ring up.

- Thanks for punch.
- It was a good idea of yours.

- I like your hat.
- I thought you would.

That's why I put it on.

- How about this flower show?
- Oh, I've choveres that.

How do you mean?
You haven't been near it.

- Well, I got a catalogue.
- What?

Well, I'm blown.

Hibridizing cinerarias.
That's a very good start.

The sensation of the show was
the hibridizing of cinerarias.

What does it say about that?

Very free-flowered.

A charming strain of close habit.

In a range of shades hitherto unknown.

Here's a nice line.
"Brilliant bedding pansies."

That might be misunderstood.
Go on, please.

The old-fashioned Sweet William has
upright habits and excepcional purity.

- Is that a flower?
- Sure.

Sounds more like a man I know.

Here, give me the catalogue.
I'll phone the story straight through.

I'll be right back.

Sorry, miss, I didn't get that word.

Oh, cinerarias?
Okay, yes, I got it.

Oh, just a minute, miss.
I've got a message here for you.

Yes, it's about the American
millionaire Oscar Kuloff.

Yes...

What's that?

In Greek Street?

- Son of a watcher?
- No, no, no, miss, son of a butcher.

I'm a bloodhound, Charlie, I've got
my nose right on the ground.

Don't you move till I phone
my next story.

Yes, but you haven't finished
this one, miss. This flower show.

Oh, tell them to look up last year.

I don't know the difference between
a hydrangea and a fire engine.

So long, Charlie.

Let me see, isn't the Clarion one of
the Camster group of newspapers?

- Yes.
- I know Lord Camster pretty well.

He was my guest last summer
in New York.

Well, what do you want me
to say, Miss Sutton?

- Well, there's a rumor...
- Yeah?

That you're going to enter British
phone production.

Oh, heaven forbid, why should I?

Why, you're interested in electrical
sound apparatus.

There's a whole crop of rumors
circling around you.

Around me?

What, who knows I'm here
and who knows why I'm here?

- Why are you here, Mr. Kuloff?
- Oh, just a vacation.

With a little business thrown in
like any other American.

Now, don't you try to make a
mystery man out of me.

- You don't like publicity?
- I hate it.

You know, you must be very hard up if you're
trying to whip something out of nothing.

Oh, we are. There's not a thing today
except that new strangler murder.

In Greek Street.

- In Greek St.?
- Your birth residence.

Say, how did you get on to that?

I looked up your dossier before
I came here.

I always do that before an important
interview.

Well, I wouldn't call this an important
interview,

in fact I wouldn't call it an
interview at all.

For two pins I'd call up Camster and ask
him why the hell I should submit at all.

You could always have me
thrown out.

Yeah? Well I hope that won't
be necessary.

We don't seem to be getting on
very well, do we?

I don't like news foxes, Miss Sutton,
even if they are charming as you are.

Then it's no use asking you to give me your
impressions of Greek Street as it is today.

That would be interesting.

Greek Street's in the news.

An American millionaire who
was born in the street...

goes back there and takes
a look at it...

...in all its squalor, its jostling,
its violent life, how's that?

You can have it. I wouldn't go
within a mile of it.

- Surely you've been back there.
- Yeah, once, ten years ago.

Unhappy memories?

I don't care to discuss it.

Good day to you, Miss Sutton.

Good day, Mr. Kuloff.

Or is it Mr. Harlem J. Nash?

Of Idaho.

Get me Imperial Airways.

Well, fancy meeting you.

Odd, isn't it.

- Have you been following me?
- Following you?

You left me flat in a deserted restaurant.
I might have been swept up with the crumbs.

But you landed in the Savoy instead.

Funny the way one lands in places.

- Very funny.
- Come and have a drink.

- No, I can't, Tamsie, I'm very busy.
- Why all this zeal?

I wanted the story of my life.

I phoned Mac a few minutes ago,
there's nothing new.

Kuloff's just told me he hasn't been
in Greek Street for the last ten years.

Well, did you tell him he was
lying in his teeth?

Oh, I have my methods, Holmes.

- Where were you off to just now?
- Just following a line of inquiry.

- Leave it to Mac, stay and have a drink.
- Mac won't write my story for me.

- I can't bear this enthusiasm.
- Well, goodbye for now.

- Penny, Penny, I want to talk to you.
- Later.

- Well, meet me at the Falstaff at six.
- Yes, I can make it.

So you've come.

You didn't expect to see me,
did you, Mr. Kuloff, alias Harlem J. Nash?

So you've discovered my
little secret, eh?

Come in.

Have I?

How interesting.

What secret?

About the rich man with
many mansions...

...who came back to the little
room in the place where he was born.

Isn't that what you're after,
Miss Sutton?

- No.
- No?

- That's a good story.
- Not when there's a better one.

Is there?

You see, Mr. Kuloff, I'm not
a sob sister,

I'm a crime reporter.

Well, what do you know about that?

- How about a little drink?
- No, thanks, not for me.

Oh, nonsense. Oils the wheels
of conversation.

Kind of cold. Do you mind lighting
the gas fire?

Okay.

I'm sorry I can't offer you an inoffensive
drink, all I have is scotch.

Anyway, they're all poured out now.

Here you are.

Drink it up. It's all doped
and poisoned.

Success to crime.

Are you trying to add me
to your list?

What list?

Of casualties.

Oh, how ridiculous.

It really was doped.

This sort of thing can't happen.

- I know all about you!
- Not all, young woman.

You're too much for my peace
of mind.

Can I help you, sir?

- Did you get her?
- No.

I tried the Clarion and they've been trying
to contact her for the past hour.

I even rang up Scotland Yard to see
if Mac knew anything but he hasn't.

Hazarding a guess, I should say
Penny is trying to ditch you.

- She's nearly an hour late.
- She cometh not, she cometh not...

Shut up. I think I know where
to find her.

If she turns up here, tell her
I'm at Ma's.

- Where's that?
- She knows.

Abracadabra,
abracadee...

Abracadabra,
abracadee...

What was that?

Everything comes to him who waits.

Yes.

Yes. A critic wrote...

that the perfect audience for me...

...would be gagged and bound
to their seats.

The perfect audience at last.

Wait. Don't move.

Don't move.

- Hello, Joe.
- Evening.

- Have you seen Miss Sutton?
- No, I've been busy inside.

Is she still looking for the strangler?

What... yes.

- Not a bad story she wrote.
- You read it?

- I read all the papers.
- What, all of them?

Sure, I bought the lot.

Should have written most of them
better myself.

- Really?
- They write it with their gloves on.

Making out the one that does
them's mad.

Don't you think he's mad?

Mad? He's clever.

He's got the kind of cleverness
we wouldn't understand.

Ordinary chaps like you and me.

The old cabaret turn again, eh?

Never mind about the cafe, and the
dishes all stacked up in the kitchen...

...and the customers waiting to be served
so long as he can play on his old tin can.

Most potent, grave and reverend
seniors,

The handkerchief.

The handkerchief!

Give me the handkerchief.

The handkerchief, give me
the handkerchief!

Where should a fellow go?

No.

How dost thou look now?

Oh, ill-starr'd wench.
Pale as thy smock!

You don't like Othello.
You don't applaud.

You are a fiend of Othello!

You know his reputation.

He was a strangler.

Daily Clarion?
Miss Sutton, please.

Uh, hello, is Miss Sutton there yet?

Well, have you managed to
contact her?

Oh...

I see. Thanks.

Ma, I'd like some coffee.

And say besides that in Aleppo once,

where a malignant and a turbaned
Turk beat a Venetian...

...and traduced the state,

I took him by the throat and
smote him, thus.

I'm on fire.

I'm on fire, I'm on fire!

Joe, tell me, what makes you think
this strangler chap's so clever?

The way he beats the cops to it,
every time.

- They'll get him in the end.
- Not in your life, they won't.

- He's too big for them.
- Big?

Oh, don't be a fool Joe, what's big
about murdering women?

Look at the sort he picks on. Sluts,
no good, not one of them any good.

I bet he gets a kick out of
walking around.

Incognito.

My audience!
She's tied up! She'll die!

You can't come here!
She's mine!

She's mine!

What on earth do you think
you're playing at?

- Leave me alone, you fool!
- She's mine!

- - -

Oh, my props, my precious props!

Get off me.

You don't understand, he's going to try
to make a go for it,

If you don't shut up,
I'll gag you again.

If it were done when �tis done,
then �twere well it were done quickly.

She's mine, you...!

Thanks, pal. He's pippin.

Come on.

Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him
who first cries, "Hold enough!"

Yes, yes, I'll see to that.

I'll tell you what I'll do...
Hello, hold on.

- Well, you two.
- We're on it!

- You be quiet, it's my story.
- Shut up, I'm busy.

- What's all this about?
- It's a man called Kuloff.

Kuloff.

Same again, sir?

Hey, er... how long before we
cross the coast?

Not long now, sir.

Something the matter with that
bloody number 4.

That's his third double so far.

Looks like he needs them too.

So you see, everything fits in
and you ought to be able to nab him.

Unless of course we're too late
and he's got away.

Don't worry, he won't do that.

- George.
- Sir?

- Better make the usual inquiries.
- Very well, sir.

He won't have gone very far.

You see, the whole thing is so different
from the sort of stuff you two deal in.

Nonsense, I had exactly the same situation
in Death Under the Arches.

All railway stations and ports
will be informed...

...and a full description given
of Kuloff.

George, you'd better ring up
Croyden yourself.

- Very good, sir.
- That's the most likely route he'll take.

What happens now?

Better go home and change while
we're waiting.

When you come back George will tell
you exactly what I want you to do.

Port stand by.
Landing in.

They've got the landing lights on.

Hey, what's up?

Couldn't say, sir, looks as if
they're turning back.

People who come in here like lions
go out like lambs.

You can't do this to me, you can't
intercept an American businessman.

No? We've done it.
Come on, in here.

Mr. Kuloff, sir.

I'm Inspector MacKenzie. I'm sorry to
put you to this inconvenience.

Won't you sit down.

- Cigar?
- Oh, thanks.

- Or would you prefer one of your own?
- Why, yes, if you don't mind.

Thanks.

Yes, they're the same.

Mr. Kuloff, I'm sorry to interrupt
your journey like this,

but I'm afraid I must ask you one
or two questions.

Okay, go ahead.

A young woman was found tonight
in a house in Greek Street, Soho,

number 175.

She was bound and gagged,
and the place was on fire.

Jeez, officer, I didn't do that.
- Didn't do what?

Set the house on fire.

- I thought you said the house was on fire.
- And that would add me to your list.

- No, I'm still here.
- Miss Sutton!

Mr. Kuloff, I'm going to ask you
if you wish to make a statement.

I got nothing to say.

You gotta prove anything you got
against me and you can't do it.

As you will, but I must warn you that
while certain inquiries are being made...

I shall have to detain you.

Is this what you wanted, sir?

Matches exactly.

I found this scrap of cloth

It was caught in the brooch that Sadie
Jones was wearing when she was murdered.

It corresponds with the tear in this coat
which I think is yours, Mr. Kuloff.

Why, yes, but how did you get it?

I took the liberty of having
your luggage searched...

...while we were having our
little chat.

I didn't do it!
I didn't do it, I tell you.

What am I going to do?

- Get me out of here.
- So, you can't take it.

I want to get to a telephone.

The King against Kuloff.

Members of the jury,

You've heard the case for the prosecution
and for the defense...

...and it is for you to decide
between the two.

The accused insists on his innocence,

but he cannot prove it directly because
the case for the defense,

...is just as circumstancial as the case
for the prosecution.

Kuloff, now a rich man,

was born in Greek Street.

Perhaps, as he claims, at the very
house which was the scene of the crime.

He asserts that it was his desire
to buy that house...

...and transplant it brick by brick to his
estate in the United States of America.

The defense makes a great point
of the undoubted fact...

...that he did do that very thing
with a castle in Hungary.

You may ask yourselves...

whether what is true and convincing
about an isolated castle in Hungary...

...is necessarily equally true about
a tenement house in Soho.

The defense stresses the contention
in support of this...

that the accused placed an eccentric,
or you may prefer to think half-mad actor...

in number 175 Greek Street,

whose mission was to frighten the
other residents out...

...so that he could get the house
at what he conceived to be a proper price.

But the one man who could have given
definite evidence of this point is dead,

victim of the fire he himself started.

You have heard the story
of the accused...

...that he met the murdered girl
in Hyde Park and went home with her.

That he admits.

He contends that it was an accidental
and sympathetic interest...

in a woman he recognized to be
a fellow tenant...

living in the room above him.

He alleges and insists vehemently...

that she left him in the outer room...

...and that he found her dead
in the kitchen.

Killed, as he would have you infer,
by someone else...

...who was hiding there and who escaped.

You will of course pay great attention
to the vital clue...

...of the thread of cloth from
the accused's jacket,

which was found on the brooch
of the dead girl's body.

And you must judge for yourselves how
much weight to give to his explanation.

His story, and this part is true,
is that after finding the body...

...he telephoned his solicitor to come
at once to Greek Street.

But by mistake rang up someone else.

He then awaited his solicitor...

but two strangers arrived.

When he realized that they had
discovered the crime,

he... panicked, that was his word,

waited till they had gone,

and then went upstairs and threw
the body out of the window.

He was not to know, and this
is definite,

that the body would fall onto a lorry
backing into the yard below...

...and eventually fall on the steps
of the Atheneum Club.

In considering this part of the
accused's story,

you must take into consideration
his admitted relations with other women,

particularly the evidence of the girl
Tania Smith,

who lived in the same house.

The prosecution has made use,

unfortunate use in my view,
of the phrase,

Jeckyll and Hyde.

I must ask you to remember that this
is not a matter of fiction...

...but a fact.

Nevertheless, you must take
into account...

that a man admittedly leading
a double life...

- What was he doing in the Park? -

- He was in the room. -

- His own admission is good enough
to hang him. -

- The clue of the bit of cloth. -

Same.

Hello there, late as usual.

Oh, I'm sorry. But I had to get
the last of my copy in on Kuloff.

Get me a drink, will you?

Same?

Hm...

When is Kuloff, er...

Day after tomorrow.

And that finishes the strangler story.

Oh, dear me, no.
There's still all the hangover.

Things like, "My Life with Kuloff",

by sweetie number three for the Sundays.

What about that fellow and all that?

Oh, something to it, but...

I'm a woman with a career.

Alright. But you'll change your mind
one of these days.

No. I'm committed to crime.

Where shall we eat, here?
Do you want something to eat?

Somewhere else?
I think we owe ourselves a celebration.

I've got an idea.
Let's go to Joe's.

Joe's, why?
Don't you like clean table cloth?

Oh, I just thought it might be
kind of nice seeing that we sort of...

...started there.

Sentimental little thing really,
aren't you?

I thought I might get some dope about
the local's reaction to Kuloff's execution.

Okay, you're just a crime reporter.

My sister's little gal does want
your autograph, Miss Sutton.

I was telling my sister about
you yesterday.

I left little Doris screaming and yelling
for your autograph.

My autograph?

You tell little Doris to stick to
film stars, their handwriting's better.

Your story's not so hot.
Better than the others, though.

- One of your fans, darling.
- What's the matter with my story, Joe?

Cause you and everybody else
has got it wrong.

That bloke Kuloff never killed her,
nor the others.

Bad luck for him if he didn't,
he's going to be hanged.

What makes you say that, Joe?

Cause he's not clever enough,
that's why.

I went round to the court
and saw for myself.

An ordinary guy like that.

Bet the real bloke's clever, though.

I bet he's laughing somewhere
up his sleeve and waiting for a chance to...

...start again.

Suits you better to mind
your own business.

When are you going to learn
to tend table properly?

Oh, he always does it like that.

Your grub's ready, I'll get it for you.

Joe didn't mean any harm about
your story, Miss Sutton.

He's a good boy really.

He's just a baby.

- What's the matter?
- Slight case of shock.

Shock?

Did you see the way Joe laid
the table?

What if I did?

Just a crime reporter.

Do you remember how the table was laid
that evening in Sadie's room?

- What's happening?
- Somehow I feel it in my bones,

I've always known it.

Let's go and see Mac.

Now, the spoon and fork
were correct.

But the fork was on the right...

...and the knife was on the left.

That's how they were that night
on Sadie's table.

- And that's how they were tonight.
- And if you think that's just coincidence.

- I haven't said so.
- Joe knew Sadie.

I have a feeling he knew her
better than he'll admit.

A lot of people knew Sadie.

Well, if I had anything to do
with this case,

I'd say here was a piece
of most important evidence.

Because it's dramatic. The only difference
between you and me, Tamsie,

is that I've learned to mistrust
the dramatic.

- You think it's nonsense?
- No.

- No, I wouldn't say that.
- Well, what then?

Well, against this, set the proceedings
of the Old Bailey.

The sifting of evidence, the weighing up,
the verdict,

the whole machinery of the
mills of God, which is the law.

I know, but surely...

If that machinery turns out
a man marked guilty,

there's only one thing can
happen to him, he hangs.

Give us a couple of coffees, Joe.

Seem to find the coffee around
here pretty good.

Yes, we do.

- I don't like it.
- It won't stop me.

I hate it. I think it's a crazy idea.

Now listen, this is my story
and my party.

You're only asked to help,
if you want to back out...

- I feel it's a risk.
- A risk?

To you.
I don't like it.

I'm not going to be a party to it.

Nobody's asking you
and nobody's stopping me.

Oh, shut up.

I don't know why I even worry
about you.

I do.

You like me.

You're not bad at that.

Here he is, start.

"Kuloff to die tomorrow."

I wonder what he's feeling
like tonight.

Probably thinking what a great guy he is.
Most of his sort are like that.

Well, he's news alright tonight.
Look at the headlines.

All London's thinking about him,
talking about him.

While all the cafes in Soho are
buzzing with, Kuloff, Kuloff, Kuloff.

They'll give him a place in
Madam Tussaud's...

...and people will queue up
to see him.

You know, people will remember
him like, er... Crippen, Smith...

Not like you and me, good,
dull citizens.

We'll be forgotten, Joe.

We'll never create any stir.

You take it from me.
Kuloff never done them girls in.

He's a cheat, that's what he is.

Why, Joe, what makes you say that?

Never you mind. I'm saying it, see?

Laugh if you like.

Maybe there are some folks who'll laugh
the wrong side of their face...

...when the real guy starts again.

Rubbish, Joe, Kuloff did it alright.

That's the sort of man to take off
the real man if you don't.

They've had no trouble since
they got Kuloff.

Now, if there were another
stangling tonight...

Well, that would be different.

It would, wouldn't it?

More coffee?

No, thank you.

- Come, Penny.
- No, Tamsie, I'll join you later.

I want to stay here and talk to Joe.

You know, I think there may be
something in what he says.

That's right. I'm talking sense, I am.

- Okay, I'll wait.
- No, Tamsie.

I want to talk to Joe alone.

Okay, I'll be seeing you.

Sit down, Joe.

- Want a cigarette?
- Thanks.

- Please?
- Oh.

Joe, I've got the most wonderful idea
and I want you to help me.

- Why pick on me?
- Because I think you're right, Joe.

It couldn't have been Kuloff,
he hasn't the brain.

It was someone much smarter
than him that killed those girls.

Joe, I think there was a third person
that night in Sadie's flat.

Well?

Let's go up to the flat and
reconstruct the crime.

You know, like they do in France.

We might find something the
police have missed.

Not scared, are you, Joe?

Me scared?

Sure I'll help you.

Let's go.

I still think it's a silly notion.

He wouldn't leave nothing behind
for you to find.

Come on.

Where did you get it?

The keys, I mean.

You'd be surprised what crime reporters
can do once they really try.

Now, lets pretend I'm Sadie
and you're him.

We'll just have to imagine Kuloff
for the moment.

I brought Kuloff home.
Now, what's the first thing I do?

I know. Of course, I'd play
the gramophone.

Now, what's the next thing?

I'd ask Kuloff to have a cup of
coffee, or something to eat.

He'd say yes, and I'd go into
the kitchen.

Now, this is where you
come in, Joe.

I want you to go into the kithen
and stand behind the door.

Oh, come on, you said you'd help.

I'd leave Kuloff in here...

And... I'd go to the kithen.

I'd light the gas. Remember the kettle
was boiling when she was found?

There's still something.

Oh, I'd have a stocking.

Let's see...

Oh, I know.

Now what?

Oh, close the curtains.

You see, Sadie was...

- Why don't they fix that record?
- I don't know.

They'd stop it if everything
was okay, wouldn't they?

I'm going to see.

Alright, Tamsie, together.

Penny!

No you don't!

George, get him!

Get the handcuffs on him.

You don't have to do this to me!

You don't have to do this to me.

Take them off!

I ain't going to be treated
like a criminal. I'm too good for that.

Take them off I say!

Take them off, take them off,
take them...

I should warn you sir, the news has
got around, there's quite a crowd outside.

- Right, tell the Yard to lend a hand.
- Right, sir.

Big crowd, hm?
Me the center of attraction.

Something I've always wanted...

...never had.

Well...

It was grand while it lasted.

Got a cigarette?

Wonder what's going on out there.

Say, Ma...

It's your Joe, he's in trouble.

Joe in trouble?
What is it?

I know, he's been street betting again.

Well, they can't hang him for that,
that's not a crime. I must go and see.

Get back there.

Joe!

What are you doing to my Joe?

You can't take my boy away
like this for street betting.

You can't take him like a criminal.

You can't take him away
like this, I say.

Madam, this is a murder charge.
He's just confessed.

Go on.

Well, that's that.

- Sorry?
- No, glad.

- Why?
- Well, I've been thinking.

I don't think crime reporting
really is my line.

- No? You mean that...
- I'm thinking of taking up writing.

- You know, collaboration.
- Collaboration?

Who with?

You.

- Darling!
- Tamsie, not here.

Under the lights of Piccadilly.

Look at them.

They're more than just lights.

They're a promise that everything's
alright with the world.

The all's well signal.

If they ever go out, we'd have
something to cry about.

If they did, they'd come on again.

And we'd be standing here...

...waiting for them.

Subtitles: Lu�s Filipe Bernardes