All language subtitles for Man.in.the.Attic.1953.(Jack.Palance-Mystery-Thriller).720p.x264-Classics

You clatter like a horse.

You'll not steal up on
any Jack the Ripper...

thunderin' through the
streets like that.

Three thousand men called out...

all wearin' rubber slips on their boots
- except the Yorkshiremen.

And one
Yorkshireman's worth the lot of you.

Never mind me boots.

They'd be better
off giving us guns...

not yawpin' about rubber soles.

And what do we do with this...

against a cunning devil
with a long, sharp knife?

- An Irishman knows what to do with that.
- You go now, Katy.

Now go home, and don't come back here
till you learn how to behave yourself.

I won't go home.
- I've warned you, Katy, 100 times if I've said it once.

Let go of me. I'll go when
I'm ready and not before.

- Let go of me!
- Now, come now.

- Is that any way to be acting?
- Now, just gentle like.

Easy and gentle, if you please.

Three strong men, it takes-

Three men to keep one poor
woman from having a little drink.

Now, you'll be feelin' fine after
a little sleep. Come on.

I'm feeling fine now, you great ape.

You've got a quick eye,
miss. He is a bit like an ape.

- Here, you for home. You've had enough.
- Now look here.

I will drink till I
float if I want to...

- and no one is going
to stop me. - I might-

Here, let me handle this.

You see, miss, it's our duty to
protect you from Jack the Ripper.

I don't think you
mind a bit of protection...

from a fiend like that, do ya?

You know...

I will be honored...

to have a stalwart and polite
constable such as you...

take me home.

I live... just around the corner.

Just around the corner.

You know, it's a rare thing...

to find a constable with
such lovely manners.

Yorkshire gallantry, ma'am.

Well, here it is.

And-And-And
thank you kindly.

It's our pleasure, ma'am. Sleep well.

Thank you. Good night.

Good night.

Bah. Rot. Rot!

This fellow George Bernard Shaw
should be shipped back to Ireland posthaste.

- What did you say, dear?
- I was talking to the dog.

About what, dear?

I said George Bernard Shaw should
be sent back to Ireland.

Why? What did he
say that you don't like?

He said if a duchess went
down to Whitechapel...

and got
slaughtered by Jack the Ripper...

something would be done to protect the
lives of the poor women who live there.

- Well, it's true, isn't it?
- In the first place, it's not true.

The second, I was talking to my dog.

Very well, but I think at
least you should tell him both sides.

That's ridiculous.

Now who could that
be, this time of night?

I'm sure if you think carefully, you
will discover a way of finding out.

William.

I feel something.

- Helen.
- Well, I do.

Good evening.

Do you have rooms to let?

I saw your advertisement...

and the estate agents gave
me this order to view.

You must forgive me for
coming so late. I was working.

Oh, yes, of course. We do have rooms.

Please come in.

- I'm Mrs. Harley.
- My name is Slade.

- Well, Helen, who is it?
- My husband, Mr. Harley.

This is Mr. Slade, dear. He's
come to see the rooms.

Yes. How do you do?

That's odd, you know. He
never does that with strangers.

May I see the rooms, Mrs. Harley?

Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Slade.

If you'll just come upstairs-

Here we are.

I'm awfully glad I
dusted in here today.

I had a feeling someone might come.

I'm sure you'd be very
comfortable here.

Uh, this is the bedroom.

These are the only
rooms you have, Mrs. Harley?

I could let you have
them quite reasonably.

There isn't anything else,
except the attic, of course.

The attic? Please let me see it.

It's really very small, you know.

I would like very much to see it.

Do you like those? They're
old-time actresses.

Quaint, aren't they?

As you see, it isn't very nice.

Excellent. This is excellent.

Exactly what I need, madam.
You see, I am a pathologist.

I need a place to study and do
a little experimental work...

where I won't be interrupted.

I'd take the other
rooms as well, of course.

I would live
downstairs and work up here.

- Would that be all right with you?
- Yes, of course.

This will be most useful.

I suppose a scientist's experiments always
seem mysterious to other people.

I assure you, I won't be
doing anything dangerous.

That's good.

May I take the rooms tonight?

Yes. Uh, but the terms-

Would five pounds a
month be acceptable?

- Aye, well, now, that's more than adequate.
- Done.

You're our first paying
guest, Mr. Slade.

You see, we've come
upon a period of hard times.

So you must now let rooms?

Yes. Mr. Harley
suffered business reverses...

and with nothing to do, he's
become so nervous and restless.

If at times he seems a
little eccentric or rude...

- You will understand, won't you?
- Of course I will.

I believe I should pay
you now, Mrs. Harley.

My habits are irregular, I'm afraid.

I often need to be out late at night.

But I will be very quiet.

If you'll just regard me as
a lodger, not as a guest...

you'll-you'll hardly
know I'm in the house.

- A month in advance.
- Oh, you are thoughtful, Mr. Slade.

I'm so pleased it was you who came.

Are you? Well, that's very kind.

The maid will get your
meals whenever you want them.

- You have a maid?
- Yes.

This happens to be her night out.

But I can get you some
dinner, if you'd like.

Yes.

This is a beautiful old Bible.

Yes. It belonged to my grandmother.

I hope you'll not take it
away. I should like to have it here.

It comforts me.

The Ripper again!
Murder in Whitechapel.

- Murder. Another Ripper murder.
- Another one.

Another murder.
- Another one of those horrible Jack the Ripper murders.

Why can't the police stop them?

"Jack the Ripper."

What a revolting, stupid name.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Harley. The-

The whole thing is repugnant to me.

If you'll excuse me, I'll
get your dinner now.

Murder. Evening Standard. Echo.

The Ripper again.

Murder in Whitechapel. Murder.
Another Ripper murder.

Another murder. Evening Standard.

Echo.

- Oh, it's you.
- Oh, you heard?

- Yes. Another murder.
- The fourth. All the same.

He cuts their throats and then uses
his knife like a doctor who's gone mad.

The papers daren't print all
the details. Too gruesome.

- Want to read it?
- Uh, no, thank you.

William, Mr. Slade took the room.

- Mm-hmm. - And
the attic too.

- He's taking them as of now.
- I say, that's a bit quick, isn't it?

He won't be any trouble to us at all.

Don't like renting out bits
and pieces of my own home.

Can't have any privacy.

Besides, we need the money.

I suppose you want me to go up
and make a show of hospitality.

No. Tomorrow will do, dear, but if
you're finished with the paper...

let me take it up to Mr.
Slade with his dinner.

Finished with it? I just got it.

There, you see? It's beginning-

- Well, now. Where's that dog?
- I think I saw him go upstairs.

Look, that fellow is not going
to have my dog too, is he?

These pictures
- Their eyes follow you wherever you move.

They watch. They get on my nerves.

I don't like being watched.

I understand. I'll have
them taken down tomorrow.

Further, they are pictures
of actresses.

Yes. I hope you don't really
object to actresses.

My niece Lily is on the stage.

- Your niece?
- Yes, we're very proud of her.

She opens next week at the
Piccadilly Theatre Royal.

She's bringing over some
special dances from Paris.

They're quite shocking, but
they're most delightful.

And she is very
beautiful too, I suppose.

Oh, yes. Walt till you meet her.

Meet her?

Yes. She'll live here in this house.

Oh, you'll soon change your
mind about actresses, Mr. Slade.

Come on, Prince.

Helen, it's 7:00.

Be quiet, dear. Read your paper.

We're just coming.

Oh, I'm as good as my word, Daisy.

I've got your pass for Miss
Lily's performance tonight.

Oh, Mr. Harley,
sir, you're awfully nice.

What's the matter? Don't
you want to go now?

Oh, I do, sir. I do.

- But I'm afraid.
- Afraid?

Well, there ain't a girl in all London
who fancies walking home alone at night...

what with the Ripper up
to his devilish tricks.

Well, I suppose I don't blame you.

Tell you what.

See the show and come home in a cab.

Oh, bless you, Mr. Harley, sir.

- Now run along and fetch us a carriage, will you?
- Yes, Mr. Harley, sir.

Come along, Lily
darling, or you'll be late.

I'm coming, Auntie.

Uncle William, you look very
handsome and elegant.

You look very ravishing yourself.

Oh, I'm so excited I'm afraid
I'm going to burst.

You must contain
yourself at all costs.

Especially in the theater, where people
are helplessly packed together.

Oh, do be quiet.

Be sure you've got everything.

Hello there, Mr. Slade.

Are you coming to the
theater, Mr. Slade?

I'm afraid not.
- Lily, I don't believe you've met Mr. Slade, have you?

My niece, Lily Bonner.

Good evening, Mr. Slade.

I'm sorry you can't
come to the opening.

- I have work I must do.
- You work at night?

Yes, quite often. Sometimes
all night.

- It's quieter at night.
- I like the night too.

It's the only time
I feel really alive.

It's at night that the
interesting things happen.

What kind of work do you
do at night, Mr. Slade?

I doubt if you'd be interested.

Do you just work?

Sometimes I walk close by the river.

The river is like liquid night flowing
peacefully out to infinity.

I must not delay you. I
wish you success tonight.

Thank you.

Good night.

Good night.

He's so odd, isn't he?

I believe he's shy and lonely and
all wrapped up in his Chinese puzzles.

What Chinese puzzles?
- Oh, science and pathology or whatever you said he did.

I can't help feeling there's
something odd about him.

He skulks, he prowls. That's
the something about him.

And if he's lonely, he has only to
pop out of his shell and speak to someone.

I think he's interesting.

Evening Standard. Echo.

Evening standard. Echo.

Four thousand police on
duty in Whitechapel.

Evening Standard. Echo.

Four thousand police on
duty in Whitechapel.

Oh, thank you,
governor. Evening Standard. Echo.

Dressing Room 1.

Hello, Annie.

Flowers for Miss Bonner.

Please. May I see Miss Bonner?

- Miss Bonner is dressing.
- Who is it, Lelah?

It's Annie Rowley
- "La Belle Anne," remember?

It's all right, Lelah. I know
who Annie Rowley is. Come in.

Oh! It looks very nice.

Thank you for letting me come in.

I always like to come and say
hello to my old dressing room.

It's perfectly all right, Annie. Help
yourself to champagne, courtesy of the management.

- I've got to hurry.
- Yes, I remember.

- Did you know royalty was coming tonight?
- Yes, the prince of Wales.

Oh, I had it all once-

royalty, champagne, flowers.

I remember my opening
night and how excited I was.

I looked in this very mirror.

I wish I knew then what I know now.

I came up overnight. Overnight
I was forgotten.

Won't be that way with you.

Who knows?

No, it won't. I went on looks alone.

You have talent and... all the rest.

Thanks, Annie. You coming tonight?

No, I have what I call my work.

- I still sing and dance, you know.
- Oh? Where?

- I still sing and dance, you know.
- Oh? Where?

La Belle Anne now performs...

at Madame Tussy's
School of the Dance.

Gentlemen come in the
evening to learn the latest fandango.

That's in the parlor in
the front of the house.

Is there anything I can do, Annie?

Too late.

You know, Annie, perhaps
it isn't all up with you.

Perhaps I could help you.

I don't think there's
a place with my girls...

but I'm sure I could do something.

She's gone, Miss Lily.

Yes.

Did you see that?

The little minx flirted
with the prince of Wales.

Commissioner, there's been another
murder by the Ripper.

Are you sure it was the Ripper again?

The report said it was a murder
just like the others, sir.

Where was it? Whitechapel?

- Yes, sir.
- All right.

To Lily Bonner and her
beautiful, talented troupe.

- Long life.
- Long life.

London is yours, Lily, and
if I were lord mayor...

I'd give you the keys to the city.

Miss Bonner.

You know, champagne has a
special significance for me.

As I was growing up in the
old Limehouse District...

Champagne was only a remote word.

She is very
beautiful, if I may say so, sir.

Mm-hmm. Wait here, Bates.

Dislike very much interrupting
your party, Miss Bonner.

It's a matter of utmost
importance to Scotland Yard.

Sounds
fascinating, Inspector... Warwick.

And how can I help Scotland Yard?

I want to ask you about a woman who came to
see you before your performance this evening-

- a certain Annie Rowley.
- Yes, she was here.

I felt terribly sorry for her.

How much do you know about her?

Not much, I'm afraid. Why, Inspector?

She has become another
victim of Jack the Ripper.

Can you tell me if
she was with anyone?

No. She was alone.

Someone said a man was seen near the
place where Annie Rowley was found-

a man carrying a small black
bag and wearing an ulster.

Of course, that
description fits thousands of people...

but you saw no such man?

No.

No, I saw no one like that.

Finally got Lily settled
for the night. Poor thing.

She thought she was so
excited she couldn't sleep...

but she dropped off while
I was talking to her.

That's possible.

I just opened it.

I'm thinking.

- Thinking.
- You know, that man from Scotland Yard...

said the Ripper was
carrying a little black bag.

All he said was, there
was a report...

that a man carrying a black bag was
seen in the vicinity of the murder.

And Mr. Slade came to us the
night of the other murder...

and all he had with
him was a little black bag.

And tonight he took his black
bag with him when he went out.

- He did not.
- Yes, he did.

His bag is not black, and he
didn't take it with him tonight.

- William, he did.
- Would you stake your oath on that?

Your solemn oath in a court of law?

So you're not sure of
the color of his bag...

nor that he had it with
him when he went out.

You're always leaping to
illogical conclusions...

which you call thinking.

And the window.

Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I forgot.

Women can sense things,
William. Now you know that's true.

Remember when I said something had
happened to my sister Sophie...

and we found out that she'd
fallen and broken her hip?

And remember-

What are you looking at?

It's Mr. Slade.

- He's just coming in.
- Why not? He lives here.

He creeps.

You can hardly hear him move.

Naturally he creeps. It's
3:00 in the morning.

Do you think he should come in dancing and
singing and waking up the whole house?

He stopped at Lily's door.

He did?

- The window.
- Oh.

- More tea, dear?
- Hmm.

Paper says that the murderer used
his knife in ways quite unprintable.

Ridiculous. How can a
knife be used unprintably?

- Tea, dear?
- Hmm.

Queen Victoria's issued a statement.

"She has told Commissioner
Warren that no married man...

"could possibly be to
blame for these murders...

"and therefore
every bachelor in London...

should be rounded up immediately."

- Tea?
- What a wise queen.

Now all Scotland Yard has to
do is round up a million men...

and ask them if
they are Jack the Ripper.

Well, she's right. No married
man would do such a thing.

Oh, she's so gay,
even in the morning.

Good morning.

Isn't it a beautiful world?

- All the reviews are raves.
- Why, of course.

Don't say it.

- Don't say what, dear?
- "I wonder who that can be."

Oh. I'll go, Daisy.

Hello. I'm Paul
Warwick of Scotland Yard again.

Oh. Oh, yes. Do come in.

- Good morning, Mr. Warwick.
- Hello, Miss Bonner.

I'm sorry to bother you
so early in the morning...

but it was important that
I talk to you again.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- Do come in and have a cup of tea.
- Thank you.

I'll get it, dear.
- Did you know I found out last night after you left...

that Annie Rowley sent
me some flowers?

Oh, yes. As a matter of
fact, that was my excuse-

I mean reason-for calling.

The stage doorman told me.

I'd like to find out what
florist the flowers came from.

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't keep the box.

Well, it was a possible lead. Though
it did no help to Scotland Yard...

- it did give me the
opportunity- - Good morning.

I beg your pardon. I didn't
mean to interrupt.

Mr. Slade, this is Mr. Warwick.

How do you do?

Mr. Warwick's from Scotland Yard.

He's engaged on the Ripper
case. Now tell me, Inspector.

Is it really true that this
time the Ripper was seen?

Yes. I was about to ask that too.

- He may have been.
- I don't think you'll ever catch him.

- Why not? -
Well, five murders-

This time Whitechapel was
swarming with police...

and yet you didn't even
come near to finding him.

You don't know any more now
than you did in the beginning.

- Yes, we do.
- Oh? What?

He's of average height, he's very
quick and strong and he's left-handed.

Perhaps he carries a black
bag, which would contain his knives.

- What I want to know is, why does he do it?
- There are many theories.

The favorite one is that he's
a maniac who kills at random.

- Do you believe that?
- No.

Hmm. Well, he may not kill at
random, but he's not sane.

You're a medical man, Mr.
Slade. Would you say he was sane?

I tend to agree with Miss
Lily. The police will not find him.

- Why not?
- The police are searching for a criminal.

In reality, there are no criminals.

There are only people doing what
they must do because the are who they are.

So perhaps the police are
searching for someone who doesn't exist.

Well, if my theories are correct...

I shall make Jack the Ripper's own
hands tie the noose that will hang him.

I still don't see how you worked
it out that he was left-handed.

- Uh, do you, Mr. Slade?
- I've intruded too long.

I really only came
down for the morning paper.

Thank you.

Have you all finished with it?

Oh, yes. Sorry. Should
have sent one up to you.

Thank you. Excuse me.

Odd how that dog acts.

Seems to have
fallen in love with him.

Mr. Slade?

Mr. Slade. Is something burning?

Don't come up here.

I'm sorry there's an
odor, Mrs. Harley.

There was something I
had to burn. My work.

I'll open a window.

Just leave the tray in
my sitting room, please.

Oh-

Oh, I was thinking I would
have to clean the room today.

Whenever you wish, Mrs. Harley.

You'd be a darling if you could
have that dress mended by tonight.

I'll try, Miss Lily.

You were so good in
the show, you know.

I don't think it half
matters what you wear on the stage.

It does, Daisy, and so
does what I don't wear.

I shall be at the hairdresser's most of the time.
- Yes, Miss Lily.

Good afternoon. You're
going out early.

Yes. I have just
completed an experiment.

I
- I must test it.

And when you've tested
it and proved it...

what will you know, Mr. Slade?

A little more about life and death.

I wonder what else you
need to know about life...

except that it's wonderfully
worth living.

And of death, what is
there to find out...

except it is the end of life?

That is a philosophy for a young and beautiful
woman who is the toast of London.

Thank you.

Which way are you going?

Your way, Miss Bonner.

Isn't that what your enraptured
young men would say?

I think they might.

What do you say, Mr. Slade?

- I am going to work.
- Oh? Where's that?

Everyone is so curious about me.

Very well.

I am going to the
university hospital...

where there are laboratory
facilities that I use.

I may not come home until late...

and then your charming
aunt will become suspicious.

And soon, because I am not like
everyone else, she will ask me to leave.

I've had it all before.

Poor Mr. Slade.

Walk with me to the
cab across the square.

She won't ask you to
leave, Mr. Slade.

If she did, we'd all object.

- Would you?
- Of course.

I'm afraid you've
been alone too much.

That makes one quite
broody, you know?

I am broody?
- A little. And when you're like that, you miss things.

There's so much delight in the world.

The whole sky, with
the sure sun in it.

The sound of laughter, and of music.

The sweet enjoyment of a man's kiss.

Do I shock you, Mr. Slade?

You are an astonishing
woman, Miss Bonner.

Oh, dear. I don't know what to do.

Ooh. Where is William?

Why doesn't he come home?

But what is it, Mrs.
Harley? What is it?

Never mind, Daisy. I
can't tell you now.

I must see Mr. Harley first.

Oh! Lily is walking with him.

- Lily's walking with that man.
- What man?

Why, it's only Mr. Slade she's with.

Daisy, Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

Oh, William, thank
heavens you're home.

- You must stop them.
- What are you getting at?

Don't let her go off with that man.

Helen, you've been
nipping at the sherry again.

Oh, please!

William, Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

- Look at that.
- What is it?

The other morning when I took him his
breakfast, I smelled something burning.

He said it was his
experiment. It was his black bag.

He burned his bag,
William, right after he found out...

- The police were looking for a man with a bag.
- I see.

- Oh, is that all you can say?
- Very sensible of him.

- What?
- I said, very sensible of him.

Nobody can afford to
own a bag like that now.

Come here.

A man was mobbed this morning in
Trafalgar Square. They nearly tore him to pieces.

Why? Because he was carrying a little
black bag. This is my black bag.

I didn't burn it because I didn't
think of it. I just hid it in here.

Anyone who owns such a
bag is under suspicion.

The whole city has become hysterical.

People are flocking to the
police to inform on their neighbors.

Do we have to have this
nonsense in our own home?

If Slade wanted to
be rid of his bag...

he wouldn't leave that
around for you to find.

The man isn't a fool.

You're just a little overwrought,
that's all, old girl.

How about a spot of sherry?

I think you better
have one too, Daisy.

Oh, I don't mind if I do, sir.

I rather wish we
could talk again sometime.

You've done something good for me.

Then perhaps you
will have tea with me.

- Tomorrow?
- I'd be delighted.

Thank you, Miss Bonner.

Hello, Chief.

We're in trouble. A
meeting has been called.

The high commissioner resigned this
morning, and Her Majesty accepted.

- Resigned?
- Too much pressure on the Ripper case.

If we could find a fingerprint-

Fingerprints? That won't help.

I know that theory
- No two prints alike.

It's nonsense.

No, we'll have to do better than
that, Paul, or we'll have no jobs.

Perhaps you could put
aside your social life...

and help us do
something about the Ripper, eh?

Yes, sir.

Must you stop?

If I must choose between music and you, I
- I will choose you.

More tea?

Yes, thank you.

Do you enjoy Robert
Browning's poetry?

Sometimes. Depends on my mood.

I read this author or
that one as I feel like it.

I like to pretend that
it was all written for me.

Perhaps it was.

Every so often, a woman
lives for whom men do all things.

I'm only a woman like any other.

Not like any other.

You don't know, Miss
Bonner, about the others.

Are you saying that you like me?

Miss Bonner, it has done
me great good to know you.

It has? How?

Oh, I-I'm afraid it's a
long and very personal story...

and I should dislike
troubling you with it.

I already know.

You are a man very much alone...

and you need to find those
who will love you.

And when you do, you
won't be lonely anymore.

Those who will love me?

Is it really true that
you dislike actresses?

I seem to have touched
on an old wound. I'm sorry.

No!

Yes. I will tell you.

My mother was an actress.

She was one of the most
angelically beautiful women who ever lived-

exquisitely graceful, talented
and captivating.

I loved her deeply.

Deeply.

She had the face of heaven...

and the wretched heart of Jezebel.

For every aspect of
beauty she possessed...

she contained a
double portion of evil.

- I hated her.
- But I thought you said you loved her.

One can love the
beauty and hate the evil.

Didn't you know that, Miss Bonner?

Come.

I will show you.

I didn't mean to do this, but
now I've begun, I will finish.

I will show you this face, and
you will see for yourself...

that there was no way
for my poor father to know...

that she was cunning and
faithless and rotten.

It's not difficult to understand that
my father fell in love with her.

Perhaps she never met
a man she didn't entice.

She knew no love, only lust.

She betrayed my
father a hundred times...

and when she finally left
him for a young, rich Frenchman...

- my father killed himself.
- Oh.

Not with a gun, with absinthe-

with a thousand green
glasses of absinthe.

Part of my growing up was
spent with a drunken man...

who searched the face of
every passing girl in Paris-

who spent 10 years dying
of a broken heart.

And your mother? Did
you never see her again?

Yes.

Yes, I saw her.

She had become a
woman of the streets.

And it was in the
streets that she died.

Then they must be in
Mr. Slade's room.

Lily. Excuse me, Mr. Slade.

- Inspector Warwick is here to see Lily.
- I forgot.

I, on the other hand, did
not forget, and here I am.

Mr. Slade.

We're going to the Black Museum at
Scotland Yard. Would you like to come along?

Is it all right if Mr.
Slade comes with us?

I don't believe Mr. Slade
would really enjoy himself.

Do come.

Yes. Yes, I believe I'd like to come.

I'll be just a moment.

And these are the death
masks of various murderers.

That one was publicly hanged outside
Newgate Prison six months ago.

You can see the rope
marks on the neck.

You treat them like trophies-

like a stuffed elk head mounted
over the fireplace.

Yes, a little. But these
were more dangerous than an elk.

Man, unfortunately, is the most dangerous of all beasts.
- Man is not beast.

Murderers are beasts.

There are the ropes that were
actually used to hang these men.

To me, it's the noose that's
the wickedest looking.

It hangs so calmly, making
a graceful loop, neatly tied-

a simple design, by
which a man's breath is caught...

and forfeited for his crime.

I'm afraid I'm making Mr.
Slade a little queasy.

If you'd prefer to
wait for us outside-

It's not the rope. It's your
policeman's philosophy, Inspector Warwick.

Perhaps I'm too used to
murder. I must seem callous.

Miss Bonner, I have a
question to ask you.

Just one? I have dozens to ask you.

- You too?
- Yes.

For instance, what was that used for?

Oh, that was used in
the Tufnell Park murder.

And would you come
Friday for tea at my home?

- I'd like some friends to meet you.
- Hmm, I see.

What was that used
for, Inspector Warwick?

That is a poker, with which some poor
chap beat his sweetheart to death.

Why did he do it?
- We never found out exactly, but my belief at this moment...

is that she failed to answer some
perfectly simple question...

like "Will you come to tea?"

Very well, Inspector. I'll come.

That table is expressly
reserved for one murderer.

The Ripper?

Those are pictures
of the five victims.

Ah, there you are, Paul.

I wanted to pay my compliments to our
distinguished and beautiful visitor.

May I present Chief Inspector
Melville, Miss Bonner.

- How do you do?
- How do you do, Miss Bonner?

- And Mr. Slade.
- Mr. Slade.

I've been to the
palace, Miss Bonner...

where I heard Prince Edward say the
most complimentary things about you.

- Why, thank you.
- Also, I was told that Her Majesty has decided...

that the Ripper can't possibly
be an Englishman.

Now I suppose we shall have
to investigate all foreigners.

Not long ago, we were to
investigate all bachelors...

because he couldn't possibly
be a married man.

Has Paul told you that he's
our expert on Jack the Ripper?

He even claims to be able to
predict the time of each murder.

There is a strange
periodicity to the Ripper's crimes.

It's as if the need to kill surges
inside of him up to a peak, is satisfied...

and then is quiet until the compulsion slowly
builds up again to another climax.

- When do you expect another?
- Two days ago.

He's broken the pattern now. Usually
it's every five or six days.

It could come
anytime. Perhaps he is sated.

- Sated?
- If you're ready to go, Miss Bonner...

- I would be delighted to take you home.
- Oh, not yet.

Then I hope you will
forgive me if I go on.

I have seen all I care to see of
Inspector Warwick's little museum.

Inspector Melville.

Inspector Warwick.

Your police methods will never
trap the one you call Jack the Ripper.

You may be right about
the periodicity...

but I doubt if the beast
you describe can be sated.

He must do his work again.

Good afternoon.

Them fellas on horses have a
real cushy job of it, all right, huh?

Aye.

Five thousand of us.

We ought to lay our hands
on that fella pretty soon.

Aye, soon. And I hope
it's me what does it.

To make up for-you know.

Oh, whoosh, man, whoosh. It wasn't
your fault that poor Katy got murdered.

How could you know that
she didn't live...

- where she said she did?
- Aye, that's all very well.

Oh, for the love of
Mike, will you cheer up?

You're depressin' the
life out of me. Shh.

That's an Irish voice, I tell ya.

I'd stake me soul on it.

I suppose you wouldn't consider a
little drop of somethin' to, uh...

help guard ourselves
against the cool of the night?

Come along, man.

- Thank you.
- Come again, Mary.

- Oh, good evening, sirs.
- Good evening.

- Good evening.
- It was like a breath of home to hear you, miss.

- Oh, you're an Irishman.
- Well, there's no denyin' that.

Well now, would you be averse
to walkin' a girl to her home?

- Oh, I'd like nothin' better, miss.
- Oh, you're very kind.

I've only just come to London to
seek me fortune on the stage.

And mayhap we'll get there if I don't
have to be walking home alone at night.

Well, you'll not be walkin'
home alone on my beat, Miss, uh-

Lenihan. Mary Lenihan.

Ah, it is the breath of
home to hear you, Miss Lenihan.

Uh, would it be askin' too
much to hear you sing again?

I heard very little of that
song in the pub back there.

Why, sure, I will.

Me thanks to you,
gentlemen. Good night, sir.

- Good night.
- It was our pleasure, Miss Lenihan.

And... good luck to you.

Thanks.

Aye, she has a sweet
voice, but we have our duty.

Come on, lad.

No. Please.

What's the matter?

What happened?

- How long ago?
- We just left her. Only a few moments.

- Did anyone come out of here?
- We saw no one, sir.

Then he might
still be in the building.

Put a cordon around this block.

- Yes, sir.
- Search all these buildings.

No one on the roof, sir.

He can't get out of
this, if he's human.

I'm afraid he isn't human, sir.

Not and do what he did to that girl.

What are you doing?

I am burning my ulster.

Don't come too close.

Those-What are those
stains? They look like blood.

I was carrying a solution in a
glass container-I-Part of my experiment.

I fell and it broke. My
ulster became contaminated.

I
- I must be quick, drastic...

or the
contamination could easily spread.

Contamination?

- You mean it may carry a disease?
- Yes.

- What happened to the dog?
- I'm afraid I hurt him.

He jumped up to greet me. I didn't
want him to touch the ulster.

Dogs can carry human disease.

There. It's done.

You were right about the Ripper.

You were probably
busy and didn't hear.

- Hear what?
- There was another Ripper murder tonight.

You said he would do
it. How did you know?

I didn't know.

Your Inspector Warwick made me angry.

I don't know why I said it.

What is it?

Everyone distrusts
me. I feel it. Even you.

I work very hard. I
do what I must do.

I
- I am myself.

I don't distrust you.

Forgive me. I'm-I'm very tired.

Is there anything I can do for you?

We must each live with ourselves.

Yes.

What's happened?

What's that smell? Anything wrong?

- No, Uncle.
- I'm sorry. I had to use the stove.

Hmm.

All this writing about
investigations and not a single clue yet.

William, we must go to the police.

What for?

I don't believe Mr. Slade burned his
ulster because it was contaminated.

He wanted to get rid
of those blood spots.

Well, uh, Lily said she believed him.

- I'm sorry.
- Hmm? What's the matter?

Well, here's his breakfast tray...

but I don't want to take it.

I don't know what to think of him.

I'll take the tray and settle
this business once and for all.

William. William.

Don't do anything silly.

I never do anything silly.

Great heavens, man.
Don't you ever sleep?

This experiment is very difficult.

Any more danger of
that contamination?

I think not.

You are suspicious too.

Well, I am a pathologist, Mr.
Harley, and I am working on blood diseases.

You can check on my work at
the university hospital.

Hmm. Of Course. Of course.

Did you come to ask me to move
away? It has happened before.

Move away? No, sir. Certainly not.

Why, you're perfectly welcome here...

and I'll see to it that
you stay welcome.

And now then, you
- you'd better eat some breakfast, what?

- Thank you.
- Eat hearty.

Come in.

Oh, do come in, Mr. Slade.

I came to thank
you for your reminder.

- The theater.
- Oh, yes.

- I will come tonight.
- Splendid.

I'm so happy. I think it
will do you a lot of good...

to forget work for a
while and really enjoy yourself.

I believe there's some tea.

Now suppose you take off your ulster and stay a minute.
- I'm not disturbing you?

No. Of course not. I was merely
writing a few thank you notes for flowers.

And most particularly
to Inspector Warwick?

I shall be able to
thank him in person.

He's coming tonight too.

You don't like Inspector
Warwick, do you?

He thinks you are a
most interesting man.

He asked me all sorts
of questions about you.

Wait here, Bates.

Yes, may I help you?

I wish to inquire if you have
a Dr. Slade in your hospital.

Dr. Slade? No, we do not.

Thank you.

We have a Mr. Slade who
works in research.

He's a pathologist.

- Do you wish to see him?
- No, not immediately. Thank you.

Just as well. He isn't here.

Have you seen him recently?

As recently as last night.

- Is he here very much?
- Almost every day and night.

He works late quite often.

He's a most respected
member of our staff.

- Good evening, Daisy.
- Oh, good evening, Inspector Warwick.

Am I too early?

Oh, I think Miss Lily will
be down in a minute.

Will you sit in there, sir?

- What's the trouble, Daisy?
- Oh.

I don't know. I'm as jumpy as a cat.

What's the matter?

Well, it's the back and
forth and back and forth.

Back and forth?

Well, first Mrs. Harley says
he's the Ripper himself.

And then Mr. Harley proves
it's all nonsense.

What do you mean?

Well, first he burns his black bag...

and then Mr.
Harley pooh-poohs that...

and show us his own
hidden in the chest.

And then he burns his ulster,
which had all the blood on it.

Daisy, wait a moment. What are
you talking about? - Well, Mr. Slade-

Oh, it's all mixed up.

And I'm not supposed to say.

Mr. Harley says it's
just woman's hysteria.

Wait a minute.

- Good evening, Inspector Warwick.
- Oh, good evening, sir.

- You've come for Lily?
- Yes.

Perhaps a nip of sherry will
help us pass the time.

Mr. Harley...

what is this about Slade?

Helen's been at you, has she?

Well, no. As a matter of
fact, Daisy mentioned it.

Look here, old man. Everything about
Slade can be logically explained.

Except one thing. The dog's
suddenly gone sour on him.

Still, that doesn't prove
anything, does it?

You'd better tell me
about it, Mr. Harley.

I tell you this, Lily.
No matter what you say...

I don't believe you ought to
spend too much time alone with him.

Aunt Helen. Dear, sweet Aunt Helen.

What if I were to tell you that it
was Mr. Slade who was in danger, not I?

Why, Lily!

I think this thing can
be settled tonight.

This is a copy of a
thumbprint the Ripper left in the room...

- of Mary Lenihan, the last victim.
- Thumbprint?

There's a theory that there are no two fingerprints
in the world that are exactly alike.

- I happen to subscribe to it.
- Hmm.

Could you get me something that
Slade has held in his right hand?

A glass or something?

Well, frankly, I don't know.

Mr. Harley, wouldn't you feel
more secure if we cleared it up?

Yes, I suppose so. The fact
is, the fellow's gone out.

We might try looking about his room.

Well, that would be fine.

I rather hate to, you know. Prying
into a man's belongings.

Mr. Harley.

Yes.

Helen tells me Mr. Slade frequently
reads the Bible.

Murderers don't read Bibles, do they?

There might be some prints here.

I'd like to take something smaller
- something he wouldn't immediately miss.

Oh, this will do.

Now something more.

Locked, eh?

I say, should you do that, old man?

A policeman never
knows what he should do...

until it's proved to
be the right thing.

Oh, this probably has both prints.

Handkerchief.

I say... I'll bring it
back... and your handkerchief.

Don't fuss, Aunt Helen.

Gentlemen don't mind waiting for
ladies. They're quite used to it.

- What do we do?
- Shh.

- Do you have everything, dear?
- Yes, Auntie. Stop worrying.

Well, I can't help it. There's
something in the air tonight.

She's feeling things again.

I thought Mr. Slade had gone out.

There's a light in here.

- What is this?
- I'm sorry, Miss Bonner.

You've been snooping through
Mr. Slade's things.

Very well. There's been a
mystery about this gentleman...

and I wish to clear
it up once and for all.

I'm quite tired of this. Why
don't you leave the poor man alone?

- He went out early to avoid meeting you.
- Oh? Where did he go?

He'll be at the
theater later to see me.

Perhaps you can hang him there.

I merely want to ask some questions.

- What did you find of his?
- I found this.

- That's his mother.
- His mother?

Of course. He told me about her.

Poor woman. She died an
alcoholic in the slums of Whitechapel.

What else did he tell you?

He seemed quite confused about
his feelings for her-

love and resentment all
mixed up together.

Please, Paul, leave
the poor man alone.

You defend him with quite a
lot of spirit, Miss Bonner.

I know him better than any of
you. I like him. I feel sorry for him.

As a friend, I should like to
respect your fondness for Mr. Slade...

but I am also a policeman.

You most certainly are.

You needn't bother to take
me to the theater tonight.

Good night, Inspector.

- If I may say so, sir- - And
if I said you may not say it?

Then I wouldn't, sir.

- If I may ask,
sir- - Bates.

If it seems to you I'm in a nasty mood
tonight, you're right, and I have cause.

No, you may not
ask. You may not say so.

You may do absolutely
nothing except breathe quietly.

Yes, sir.

Nothing matches, and every
print of his right hand is here.

- It's not Slade,
that's all. - Sir-

This print couldn't have been
made by the Ripper's left hand.

Not unless every
detective at the yard is wrong.

That's most unlikely, isn't it, sir?

The victim's cuts show
that the Ripper used his knife...

from right to left across the
throat while attacking from behind.

That means he used his left hand.

He took his victims like this.

The cut of the knife was like this.

Sir, have you observed Mr.
Slade to be left-handed?

No, I haven't.

But he could
still use his left hand...

if he attacked from behind.

You know, for the first
time it occurs to me...

that the Ripper need not
have attacked from behind.

In which case, he could make the same
cut from the front with his right hand.

- Yes, sir.
- If that's so, we must find a left thumbprint...

to match the print of the Ripper's.

About that portrait, sir
- I have a peculiar memory for faces.

- You do?
- Yes, sir.

I believe that to be the
face of Ann Lawrence.

Even to the mole on the left cheek.

Bates, you're right. Slade's
mother was the first Ripper victim.

Where is Slade? Have you seen him?

Yes, he's right down
there. He's gone.

Lovely, lovely. You were lovely.

- They liked us, didn't they?
- They worshipped you.

Excuse me.

- Am I under arrest, Mr. Policeman?
- Where is Slade?

Inspector Warwick, I'm
very sick of all this.

- He's the Ripper.
- Oh, do go away. You're out of your mind.

Lelah, I don't want
you to let anyone in.

There's a
gentleman in here, Miss Lily.

Hello.

May I... talk to you alone?

I have to make a change.
Uh, there isn't much time.

All right, Lelah.

Please.

Well, how did you like the show?

You are exquisite, Lily.

Good. For a moment, I thought you
disliked the whole thing. You looked so glum.

I hated it. I hated your beauty being
exposed for everyone to ogle.

I hated the looks on men's faces.

Well, without those looks on
their faces, I'd be finished.

You're more wonderful and more-

more sweetly beautiful than
anyone I've ever known.

Everything in my life has
changed because of you.

Help me.

Help me.

You pick the strangest moments.

I need you, Lily.

Only you can save me.

- Save you?
- Come away with me right now.

Come away with me
- anywhere in the world you say.

I want to live close to
you without sharing you.

Close. Close.

I think there's
something you should understand.

I'm fond of you, but I'm
not ready to be taken over.

I like a man with passion, but I don't
want a slave, and I don't want to be one.

Besides, I wouldn't
dream of giving up the theater.

All I've said makes
no difference to you.

I didn't say that.

You want to go on exciting
men to wanting you...

go on using your
beauty to corrupt, to degrade.

- Please.
- You're mocking me!

Miss Lily?

The same as my mother.
The same as all of them.

- Miss Lily, are you all right?
- Mocking love, living for lust.

You are evil.

Your beauty is
evil. It must be cut away.

No. No.

You said you loved me. Please.

Miss Lily?

Miss Lily? Miss Lily,
are you all right?

Lily!

Are you all right?

Halt!

Get a doctor.

Hey!

Yah! Yah!

Yah! Hah!

Yah!

- Can't you go faster, man?
- Hah!

Are you hurt, sir?

I am a doctor.

Take care of my horses. I must hurry.

- Where is he?
- You mean the doctor?

He turned the corner too
fast and crashed a wheel.

Quickly, man, that was the Ripper!

- Circle around that way.
- Here! Over this way!

- What is it?
- What are they after?

Shine your lights over here!

- It's the Ripper!
- He's in the river.

- There's something! Over there!
- Where?

Look! By the bridge!

It's too dark, and it's too deep.

We'll never get him now.

Not so dark and not so
deep as where he's going.