Original subtitles

(movie reel clicking)

(light, playful music)

(dramatic music)

(light, airy music)

- John.

Good evening, I'm Blue Eyes.

- [Voiceover] Oh yes, so it is.

(foreboding music)

(light, airy music)

(dramatic music)

- Good morning.

- Good morning, sir.

- Morning.

- Maxwell.

- Yes.

- Look.

- Another poem.

- Indeed.

"Elephants circle her smooth white arm.

"Good luck tokens to guard her from harm."

(mumbling)

"A beauty that only death can enhance."

- Let's see the chief.

- [Voiceover] And get off at TX to Edinborough.

- [Voiceover] Very good, sir.

- [Voiceover] Oh, and tell Parrington to stand by.

- [Voiceover] Stand by, sir.

- Well, what is it?

- We've just received another poem, sir.

It was posted last night.

- "Beauty that only death can enhance.

"What a night, my friends,

"is her final dance."

- The P keys have fallen out of alignment.

The serif of the R

is sometimes not clearly visible.

The small broken curve is found in all the letters E.

There can be no doubt that this poem was typed

on the identical machine used for the previous verses,

classified under file Q-140X.

- [Chief] Thank you.

- Typewriter paper of cheap common bond.

8/2 by 11 1/2.

No rare content.

Manufactured by the Stanton Mills.

Watermark, Victoria.

- Again, Victoria.

- No smudges.

Typewriter ribbon probably three months old.

No fingerprints.

- As usual.

- Ah, what's this.

Glove prints.

Probably suede gloves.

- Typewriter analysis, chemical analysis, fingerprints.

Huh, we have precisely the same information

on the other seven letters.

- And the other seven girls disappeared.

- Exactly.

There's a homicidal maniac loose somewhere

in the vast honeycomb of London.

A maniac with a weakness for young, pretty girls.

And not a thing we've done has brought us

one inch nearer his apprehension.

- There's not a man in the department, sir,

who's not been racking his brains over this case.

- Racking his brains?

That's a mistake.

We can go on racking our brains 'til doomsday,

and young innocent girls will keep on disappearing

as will this one.

Whose fate has been sealed by this poem.

No, it's not our brains we should rack.

It's the brain that wrote this.

"A beauty that only death can enhance,

"for tonight my friends,

"is her final dance."

- Fifty'll give all rubbish enlavourish dance, pop theirs.

50 girls of your dreams to hold in your arms.

Short dreams, tall dreams,

blond or brunette.

Dance with one, or dance with 50.

Only six pence a dance, gentlemen.

Six pence.

(light, airy music)

(bell rings)

- Thanks very much, Mister.

- Don't want to stop, do we?

- Oh, now wait a minute, I'm busy, sorry.

- Have something to drink.

- Come on that's enough of that.

Move on.

- Oh, my aching toes.

Thank goodness it's only two more hours.

- Two hours in this cement mixer

are longer than a six day bike race.

In flew a dead duck.

- [Man With Cigar] Come on, take a turn, beautiful.

- What is it tonight?

A sweepstakes for zombies?

I hope you two will be very happy.

- Thank you.

(upbeat music)

- Strike me pink if you aren't the prettiest little girl

in the whole place.

The minute I laid me eyes on you,

I said to meself, Oswald Pickering, that's me name,

there's the prettiest little girl in the whole place.

- Take it easy, I don't dance.

Milton's the name.

Harry Milton, just want a word or two.

- Well, you can't take me home.

I don't finish 'til 2 a.m.

We can't go somewhere for a little drink.

And I loathe etchings.

- What's that? Oh no, no, no.

I'm theatrical agent, Miss.

Been watching you all evening.

You've got personality.

(chuckling)

How'd you like to work in a really fine place?

- Oh, now don't tell me Buckingham Palace

is installing a taxi dance wing.

- No, no, no, one of Fleming and Wilde's nightclubs.

You've heard of Fleming and Wilde.

The brightest spots in London.

You're too beautiful for a slaughterhouse like this.

- [Woman] (laughs) I seem to have heard that before.

- Not from me, Miss.

I'm bonded.

Mr. Fleming's scouring the town for beautiful girls.

Ten quid a week, and bonuses.

- Ten quid?

- Audition next week.

Monday, 9 o'clock.

- I'll be there 9 a.m. sharp.

- Not morning, Miss, evening.

- Whoever heard of Mr. Fleming being up

at nine in the morning?

- Look an agent for a nightclub.

Ten pounds a week.

- Oh, I'm not interested.

- What?

- Tonight's Little Lucy's last dance, Sandra.

Me and my big blue eyes are going bye-bye for good.

- What are you talking about?

- A man.

Oh, he's so handsome.

And he's got the charm of the devil, himself.

I'm going away with him.

- But who is he, I.?

- His name is John,

and he comes from a very distinguished family.

- What?

Oh, who's the luck girl this time?

Me, oh.

Don't be jealous.

(bell rings)

- There goes six pence.

- Yeah?

Spin around sweetheart.

Let's have a turn, deary.

- Strike me pink if you aren't the prettiest little girl

in the whole place.

The minute I laid me eyes on you,

I said to meself, Oswald Pickering, that's me name,

there's the prettiest little girl in the whole place.

- I thought the cat got your tongue, sweetie.

Come along, let's warm up.

- Lucy, John who?

Where's he from?

- Here, who's paying for this dance?

I'd like to know.

Me or your lady friend.

- Eh, shut up.

Where'd you meet him?

- In the personal column.

- What are you two talking about?

- Oh I., not that way.

It's dangerous.

- Not when I have my precious little friends to protect me.

- "Elephants circle her smooth white arm."

- Professor Harkness, I've been reading that stuff

until I'm blue in the face.

I've had the best cryptographers in London

search them for some sort of code or cipher

or any kind of hidden meaning.

- I'll be surprised if you find any code.

Whatever the criminal reveals in these jingles,

he won't be aware of it.

- Subconscious?

Nothing simple, or direct.

- Inspector, I'm happy to say I've been able to identify

this tile.

- You mean, you've got a line on him?

He's actually a poet?

- He'd like to be.

He's imitating one.

Almost copied, in fact.

- Who? Which one?

- The poet that your man must know by heart,

is Charles Baudelaire.

Baudelaire was obsessed with the notion

that death is beautiful.

Listen to this,

"A beauty still more beautiful in death."

Your criminal has the same delusions.

"A beauty that only death can enhance."

- I see.

But Baudelaire died years ago.

- [Harkness] Yes, quite horribly.

In Paris, 1867.

- Hmm.

- Your murderer, if he's at all a Baudelaire,

he'll be constantly in search of beauty,

and caught in it.

A new lovely face will always appeal to him,

or some unusual attractiveness will intrigue him,

inspire him to distractedness.

He'll delight in variety,

and never be quite content with what he finds.

- Sort of modern Don Juan.

- Mmm, yes, you might say so.

And I hope that this will throw some light

on the subject, Inspector.

- Baudelaire, eh?

Well, that might help.

But at the moment, I don't see how.

Well thank you very much, Professor Harkness.

And good day.

- Oh, look Mr. Nelson,

this is the chance of a lifetime.

- [Voiceover] Chance of a lifetime?

- Yes, I'd give anything to get a job

in a Fleming and Wilde show.

- Fleming and Wilde?

What's wrong with your job here, eh?

What's the matter with this place?

It's nice, I like it.

- Well, I'm mad about it too, Mr. Nelson.

It's simply divine.

Just loaded with opportunities.

But look, I want that audition.

Won't you let me off tonight?

Please.

- Not unless you want to lose your job, girly.

You know we're short of girls around here.

Including your little friend Lucy Barnard.

By the way, what happened to her?

- I don't know, I haven't heard from her.

Maybe her landlady has.

Did you try the house?

- That's a brilliant idea.

Now suppose you get back to your job

like a good little girl.

Good bye, ducky.

Give me a line, please.

- Watch it, sonny.

- Well.

(phone ringing)

- [Voiceover] Hello.

Hello.

Fleming and Wilde Theatrical Enterprises?

Hello.

- Hello.

- [Voiceover] Mr. Fleming's secretary, please.

- Just a moment.

- Who is it?

- Darling, it's not for you.

She wants your secretary.

- She?

Hello.

- Mr. Fleming's secretary?

- [Voiceover] Yes.

- This is Sandra Carpenter.

- [Voiceover] Who?

- Sandra Carpenter.

I was to come in tonight for an audition.

Mr. Milton gave me a card.

But I can't possibly get away.

The manager, I--

(cash register dings)

Would you tell Mr. Fleming for me?

- Mr. Fleming will be very disappointed, I'm sure.

You have such a charming voice.

- Ah, well, I don't sing you know.

I dance.

- I bet you do, and beautifully.

Perhaps we can arrange a private interview.

- You're intolerable.

- Hold the line, please.

Something's out of order here.

- Jealousy's eyes are green, my dear.

Don't let yours turn that dreadful color.

- You're incorrigible.

- Of course I am.

I am an unmitigated Cad.

Now, carry on my dear.

Talk to me.

- Look here, is it customary for Mr. Fleming's secretary

to pass judgment for his boss?

- Mr. Fleming never makes a move without me.

In fact he very frequently has me take his young ladies

out to dinner in order to talk things over.

- Thanks, I 'll go hungry.

- Lemon squash please.

- [Voiceover] You're an American, aren't you?

- So?

- Mr. Fleming is quite partial to American girls.

They have an irresistible way of putting a man

on the defensive.

- Oh Robert, you're--

- Impossible.

- Now what were you saying?

- Uh, would it be against Mr. Fleming's

Anglo-American policy to tell a girl

when the next audition is, please.

- Tomorrow night at nine.

Can you make it?

- [Voiceover] I think so.

- I guarantee that you'll see Mr. Fleming personally.

Now are you happy?

- [Voiceover] I'm very happy.

(door slams)

- Then why don't you smile?

- All right, I'm smiling.

Any more instructions, Mr. Sec--

(cash register thudding)

(dramatic music)

- This can't be so.

Hello.

Hello.

Oh, hello, Julian.

- Charlton has just delivered the architect's drawings.

- I feel rather like Napoleon after Waterloo.

- You sound more like Romeo

after Juliet closed the balcony window.

- That's the first girl that's hung up on me in years.

- It's well overdue.

Take a look at these Robert.

I think the plans are perfect now.

We shall have the finest nightclub in London.

The entrance is larger than any of our other clubs.

And Charlton has redesigned the dance area.

- I think the entrance is too large.

We better take six feet off.

The smaller the entrance,

the more crowded the effect.

The more crowded the effect,

the more prosperous the impression.

Always keep entrances crowded, Julian.

- Splendid, Robert.

There isn't an entrepreneur in London

that can hold a candle to you.

- There's no partner in the world like you.

Appreciation is in order.

- Oh fiddlesticks, me dear.

All I do is to keep an eye on the accounts.

- That's not so easy.

It takes a magician to eke a profit out

of my grandiose schemes.

Let's take a look at the pretty little girls

in their dancing shoes.

(upbeat music)

Go ahead, girls.

Aren't you coming Julian.

- Feared eighth victim of poet killer.

What a horrible mess.

Have you read this?

- You're too sentimental.

The eight little darling's probably ran off

with professional charmers who promised them

the riches of the Orient.

You don't understand women old boy.

- And that was the last you saw of Lucy Barnard?

- Yes, the night she said she was going away with some man.

- Mm-hmm, the landlady reported

that she left all her clothes, everything she owned.

- Which wasn't very much, Inspector.

- The man you say she went away with,

did you know him?

- No.

- Never seen him?

- All I know is she met him through the personal column.

She answered an advertisement.

- Now can you remember at all what the advertisement said?

- Yes, I have it right here.

It was on her dressing table.

- Thank you.

For a fine gentleman of means desires friendship

with young and untouched girl.

Enclosed photographs, intentions marriage.

Box 477.

Now tell me, Miss Carpenter, what kind of a girl

was this Lucy Barnard?

- Oh, just a nice kid.

Not too smart, but not to dumb.

Just the kind to fall for some Casanova with a smooth line.

She believed no harm could ever come to her

just because she wore a good luck charm,

some silly little white elephants.

- Elephants, did you say elephants?

- Yes.

- Around her wrist on a bracelet?

- Yes, how did you know?

- A girl by the name of Arlette Tomlinson

disappeared about a year ago.

- Disapp--

- Yes.

A few days before she disappeared we received this poem.

"Smile your last sweet fragile smile, Arlette.

"For when the roses fade, the north wind whispers,

"are you ready yet?"

This one we received last December.

"Move quickly to the rendezvous my light of heart, Louise.

"No worry if the gate is shut.

"Your lover has fate's keys."

The very next day the parents of Louise Remington

notified us that she had disappeared that night.

Not a word of her since.

Last week, we received this.

- Elephants encircle her...

Elephants.

- I'm afraid you'll never see your friend again.

Thank you, Gordon.

- No problem, sir.

- Miss Carpenter would you like to help us?

- There's nothing I wouldn't have done.

- Perhaps there's something you can do now.

How long have you worked at this dance hall?

- Three months.

- What did you do before that?

- I came here from New York with a show.

It folded in four nights.

I was broke.

- Stand up.

Would you mind raising your skirt.

- Uh-oh.

- Higher.

- How's that?

- Very nice.

My compliments.

- Thank you.

- Sorry, but I had to.

- I don't get it.

- You will, can you cook?

- Mmm, kinda.

- Know shorthand, typewriting?

- Enough to make me realize I better stick

to show business, why?

- No great matter.

Can you do housework?

- Not if I can help it?

- Could you dress a wound?

- A bullet wound, perhaps?

- Perhaps.

- Well, I don't faint easily if that's what you mean.

- Close your eyes.

- Now what comes?

- How large is this office?

- Oh about 12 by 16.

- Where's the coat rack?

- Uh, between the door and the window.

- What color are the walls?

- Uh, dirty beige.

- Well, we don't spend the taxpayers money on luxuries.

Describe me, frankly, if you please.

- Well, you're kinda gray-ish, heavy set,

six feet tall, and you probably have stomach trouble.

You have a signet ring on your left little finger,

a watch chain with a gold pendant,

and you try to be hard-boiled but you're really a softy.

Satisfied?

- Quite.

Very enlightening.

- Do I get the job?

- So you know what I've been aiming at?

- Female detective,

isn't that what you've been testing me for?

- Exactly.

Our policewomen are very clever.

But the unknown person we seek

only goes after young, beautiful girls.

- Thank you, then I'm to be the bait?

- In our trap.

The criminal will follow you and we'll snap it shut.

- But how?

- You'll answer every ad in the personal column,

for young girls wanted unattached.

We'll write your replies, but you keep the appointments.

Miss Carpenter, there'll be danger.

Great danger.

Are you afraid?

- No, not yet.

- You'll be well guarded

but if you'd rather not.

- Oh, I'll help, of course.

- Thank you, Miss Carpenter.

- [Voiceover] What about this one?

- [Voiceover] One of the forces late is assigned to it, sir.

- You answered these Gordon?

- Aye, sir.

Miss Follate wrote the letters in her own hand

on her personal stationary.

- That leaves these four for you.

- Yes, sir.

- We'll check here in pencil.

We'll continue to screen out the legitimate items.

Report to me regularly.

- Yes, sir.

What if I get in a jam, sir?

- We have a man responsible for you,

but don't try to identify him.

And this just in case you need moral support.

- I hope I don't shoot myself.

- You won't, you're on the force now.

- Yes, sir.

- Good luck, Sandra.

- Thank you, sir.

- Nice gal.

(dramatic music)

- Sorry Miss, but the position has been adequately filled.

- More than adequately if you ask me.

- [Man] Precisely.

Good day, Miss.

(unsettling music)

- Are you the bird lover?

- Well don't tell me you want a soul mate.

- Oh no, Miss.

It was my big brother.

He's very nice, you would've like him.

But his regiment was called back this morning.

His most frightfully sorry.

He asked me to bring you these.

I do hope you're not too disappointed.

- Oh no, thank you very much.

And you tell your big brother for me,

that I said good luck, will you.

- Thank you.

Good afternoon.

- Oh, good afternoon.

(dramatic music)

♪ You stole my peace of mind

♪ You left blues to black

♪ To mention

♪ You fooled me with your good intention

♪ And you were so unkind

♪ You stole my peace of mind

♪ From me

♪ Daydreams fill my mind ♪

(foreboding music)

- I beg your pardon,

but are you waiting for someone?

- Why yes, I have an appointment here.

- Well then you must be the one who wrote me.

I am Charles van Druten.

- Oh, you are?

You need a model, right?

- How did you begin your letter?

- My letter?

- Um, Dear Sir, I hope to be the first to answer your--

- And the ending?

- I'm, um, I'm very anxious to make your acquaintance,

and to start work.

Will I, will I do?

Will you give me the job?

- You have no family?

- Family, no.

- Tonight you can earn a pound.

- That's fine.

- Why do you accept so quickly?

You know nothing about me, as yet.

- Well, I um, I need the money Mr. van Druten.

I haven't a cent.

- Well then, come.

(dramatic music)

Are you afraid?

Like all the others?

(foreboding music)

Matilda, Matilda.

She came.

Come in, come in.

We have no time to waste.

Isn't she beautiful.

A van Druten figure.

Now then, there is your dressing room.

And madame will assist you.

If you will be kind enough to excuse me for a moment I,

I must prepare myself.

- Who is this van Druten anyway?

- Van Druten, (speaking foreign language).

Why, he is the greatest designer that ever lived.

- Oh, a designer.

- He made this dress 25 years ago.

- Really?

- For a princess.

Her royal highness, Alecia.

But none since.

Poor soul.

He's still living in those days.

- Why, what happened?

- Oh, mademoiselle.

The princess never saw the dress.

The design was stolen by his competitors in Paris.

It broke his heart.

And his mind.

I've cared for him ever since.

- Are you ready, Matil?

- Ready, mademoiselle?

(speaking foreign language)

- Beautiful, my child, beautiful.

Now, turn around my dear.

Ah, lovely as a painting by Gainsborough.

Let's see.

The house is packed.

My dear child, you've never seen so distinguished

an audience.

Matilda, her excellency herself has just come in.

- Really?

- Orchestra, orchestra.

- Yes, Cherie, yes, yes.

(triumphant music)

- Not so loud.

It hurts the ears.

(speaking foreign language)

Better, better.

- Thank you, thank you for your applause.

Please, please, you embarrass me.

You overwhelm me with kindness.

Your royal highness.

- He's a little.

- You're telling me.

Is he dangerous?

- Not if you humor him.

- Oh.

But don't upset him.

- Mm-Mn.

- I'm honored by your patronage,

inspired by your presence.

Tonight, I offer for your approval,

my latest creations.

Exquisite, inimitable.

Ladies and gentlemen, this gown was designed

for the Venetian fete.

Given at the palace of her royal highness,

the princess Alecia.

Her highness did me the extreme honor of wearing it herself.

Your excellency, I have never seen you looking so well.

Would you be good enough observe the delicacy of this line?

Turn, my dear.

Turn.

Thank you.

Ah, gracious lady.

My poor Captain,

your wife dragged you here, I presume.

(laughing)

Madame, may I draw your attention to the ingenious bodice.

A lace, the subtle sleeve.

Step over here my dear so Lady Winston can see you.

(dog growling)

- Pardon me, please.

- How do you like my new model, eh?

I presume you heard what happened to last one.

(laughing)

But it's quite true you know.

(maniacal laughing)

(music skipping)

Matil!

(dramatic music)

You have ruined me.

(screaming in foreign language)

- Now, now, now wait a minute Mr. van Druten.

Please.

- You.

You are their spy.

- Now, now take it easy, I.

- Easy, you think it's easy to steal my ideas.

That's why you're here.

You work for them.

- Who?

- Colbert de Pougy.

The ones who are trying to destroy me.

You'll never leave this room alive.

- Oh no, no, wait a minute, Mister.

You got me all wrong.

I, I, I, I.

- Who is that?

- I don't know.

- [Charles] Don't lie.

- I, (groaning).

Well, that's the man who sent me here.

Your competitor, Colbert.

- Colbert.

Yes, that's who it was.

Colbert.

(yelling)

(thudding)

(knocking)

- Oh, mademoiselle.

- Help me out of this.

- [Charles] This time I'll kill you.

- Here.

Quick take me to Scotland Yard.

Well, didn't you hear me?

What do you want?

Let me outta here.

Let me out!

Let me, help me!

(man grumbling)

- [Man] It gets worse.

- Get off.

- Drive on.

That door doesn't open Miss Carpenter.

- How do you know my name?

- Oh, I know everything Miss.

You were a taxi dancer now you're working for the police.

- Who are you?

- Barrett's the name, Miss.

H. R. Barrett, been on the force 29 years.

- Well for heaven's sake, why didn't you tell me?

- We had to make sure you could take it, Miss.

With all the goings on and everything.

- That's just great, he coulda killed me.

You know he was awful close to it.

- But wasn't I right there all the time, Miss?

- I don't know.

- Didn't I popped right up when you needed me?

- Well I guess so,

but what happened to that horrible man?

- He landed right in my arms, Miss.

The constable on the corner's got him now.

- He's crazy, you know.

- Don't you worry about him, Miss.

A good night's rest, and pleasant dreams,

you'll be all ready for the next one.

- Oh, I hope you're right.

- But you want to learn to take care of your gun,

Miss Carpenter.

Here's your toy.

- Thanks.

- That's all right.

- Here's yours.

- Thanks.

- It's all right.

- What do you mean she's disappeared?

- Well, like I told you Mr. Fleming.

I goes back to the Palladium

but she don't work there anymore.

- Did you ask the proprietor where she went?

- The proprietor gave me the number of her flat,

but the landlady says she cleared out two days ago,

bags and baggage.

And nobody knows where she is,

nor what she's doing.

Blimey.

Maybe the poet killer got the poor girl.

- Nonsense.

(piano tones)

She's one girl that can take care of herself.

She wanted an audition then,

and she probably wants one now.

- Coming Robert?

We mustn't be late.

Sir Charles is a stickler for punctuality.

- Yes, coming.

You keep searching, Milton.

Find this Sandra Carpenter, and bring her here in person.

- Great Scot!

Are you still concentrating on international affairs?

- You didn't hear her voice Julian.

I want to see the girl that goes with it.

If anyone calls I'll be at Sir Charles'.

- Now we come to Article Nine.

- It will be quite a privilege

to have you on our board of directors, Sir Charles.

- Oh, I like the idea very much.

- It's quite a departure for a scholared, old banker.

- Well your investment will be quite safe,

I assure you.

- The club will be last word in night spots.

By far the most spectacular in London.

- As I was saying gentlemen,

now we come to article nine.

The party of the--

- Oh nine, which reminds me.

You'll have to excuse me Sir Charles.

I have a very pressing engagement.

- Why of course, old boy.

- Good night, Julian.

- But Mr. Fleming.

I've not finished yet.

- Mr. Wilde will hear you out.

He has the trained ear.

Good night Mr. Wilberforce.

- Good night.

- Well, article nine--

- I beg your pardon Sir Charles, the advertisement.

- Excuse me, Mr. Wilberforce, will ya please?

- Yes, Maxwell.

- It must be in before 11, sir.

- Aristocratic home offers unusual opportunity

for attractive woman.

18 Kenilworth Square.

Mm-hmm.

Send this off Maxwell, will you?

I'm sorry gentlemen, domestic crisis.

We've lost three maids

in the last six months and all without giving notice.

It's most annoying.

Carry on, Wilberforce.

- [Wilberforce] Yes, yes, yes.

As I was saying, now we come to article nine.

- [Maid] Mm-hmm.

That's more to the point, isn't it Maxwell?

(bells chiming)

- Turn around.

Very nice, I think you'll make a satisfactory parlor maid.

- Maid?

Oh, it says here "Unusual opportunity for unattached."

I'm sorry, I'm not interested.

- Really?

- No, you see, your advertisement

was in the personal column, not the want ad.

- Was it?

How odd.

There must've been an error?

You're not married?

- No.

- You have no steady male friend?

- No, not even an unsteady one.

- Then perhaps this job will not be as routine

as you imagined.

I would say it has rather interesting possibilities

for anyone as attractive as you.

- The girls who were here before you all went on

to much--

- Marie, tend to your own business.

But she's quite right about the other girls

who were with us.

They've all done very well.

- I see.

Well, if there's really a chance for advancement,

I, would you like to see my references?

- I'm not interested in references as much as in character.

I like your character.

- I can see that from here, Mister, uh.

- Maxwell, Lyle Maxwell.

But in front of the others you must call me sir.

- Yes, sir.

- Marie.

- Yes, sir.

- Show her her room and inform her of her duties.

- Yes, sir.

- What's new besides walking milady's bloodhound?

- Milady's butler has got ideas.

- I don't blame him, but I'd like to push his face in.

- I don't mean that.

He hasn't even held my hand yet.

But he does peek at me around corners

when he doesn't think I'm looking.

- Oh?

What's a six letter word meaning ancient tyrant?

- I don't know but I have something I should tell.

- The chief?

- Mm-hmm.

- Then get going, lass.

- Will you watch Caesar for me?

- The things I do for the force.

Caesar.

Ceasear, that's it.

- Scotland Yard, extension five.

Inspector Temple, please.

Sandra Carpenter calling in.

- Yes.

Miss Carpenter, put her on.

Yes, Miss Carpenter?

- I think I've run into plenty of something Inspector.

Three girls were here before me,

who left for parts unknown.

- [Voiceover] Did you get their names?

- Well I don't dare shoot questions too fast.

- Hold on a minute.

Send a man to 18 Kenilworth Square.

Census report.

- [Voiceover] Yes, sir.

We'll get the names.

- The butler calls himself Maxwell, Lyle Maxwell.

- Maxwell?

Check Lyle Maxwell in the files.

Lively, now.

- Yes, sir.

- [Voiceover] He said that the advertisement got

in the personal column by mistake.

- He lied.

I have the original copy

just as it was sent to The Enquirer,

addressed "Personal Column."

Play this Maxwell and all.

And take Monday night off.

- Where to?

- Ionian Hall.

A man who signs himself Music lover

has advertised for a beautiful maiden to share his ecstasy.

He'll leave your ticket at the box office.

I'll send his letter along in case you need

to identify yourself.

- Yes sir, Monday night.

That means evening clothes, Inspector.

- That's what your expense account is for, my dear.

Use it.

- Don't think I won't.

- [Voiceover] Carry on.

- Yes, sir.

- File on Maxwell, sir.

- Thank you.

Lyle Maxwell.

Aliases, Maxine Duval, Marin Weischaupt.

Believed to be born Hamburg.

Paris board irregularities noted.

Has left and entered United Kingdom four times

since January 7th.

Hmm, very interesting.

And make a note for Inspector Barrett,

Ionian Hall, 8 :30 Monday night,

white tie and tails.

- Franz Schubert, Symphony number eight in B minor,

unfinished.

Unfinished?

Ticket reserve for Music Lover, please.

- Here it is, madame.

- Thank you.

(people chattering)

- Robert.

- Oh, hello Julian.

- Of all the people.

Since when did you become a music enthusiast.

- I thought I might find some talent

among the high brows.

- This isn't a hunting ground for you, my dear fellow.

Got a seat reserved?

- Uh, no I haven't.

- Let's sit together.

- All right, fine.

Then you can nudge me when I'm supposed to applaud.

- What have you left?

- [Voiceover] All I have left is a box

that was just returned.

- I 'll take it.

(dramatic music)

- Schubert's improving.

- Shhh!

(light, airy music)

- Bravo.

I think I need a drink.

- A drink?

- She's stunning, isn't she?

- Very.

- I'll see you later.

- [Bartender] And yours madame?

- Champagne cocktail, please.

- [Bartender] Champagne cocktail.

- Make that two.

- Two champagne cocktails.

And yours, sir?

- Whisky and soda.

- [Bartender] Whisky and soda, very good sir.

- Thank you.

- You're alone, aren't you?

- I'd like to be.

- Oh, some sort of phobia.

- Fear of meeting the wrong people.

- Waiter, an aspirin tablet, please.

- Your aspirin, sir.

- Thank you.

- He must be short sighted, or a fool.

- Waiter, how much please?

- Oh, allow me.

- Look here, I'm not in the habit of letting--

- Hold on.

Say that again.

- What?

- Talk to me, say,

" Is it customary for Mr. Fleming's secretary to--"

- Uh-oh.

- Oh, so you remember me too?

- Unpleasant memories are sometimes hard to shake off.

- Why didn't you come to the audition?

I had Mr. Fleming sold on you.

He had the stage all decked out in American flags,

and he sent me all over London

to find you some American Beauty roses,

and you didn't show up.

- And I 'll tell you why,

I got a better job.

One with a future.

No red tape, at least not your kind.

- [Voiceover] You wanted to pay, sir?

- Yes, for both.

- Thank you for the drink.

I'm being paged, will you excuse me?

- Your change, sir.

- Who's that bird?

- Bird?

Surely Barrett, you noticed his fangs?

- One of those, huh?

- Mm-hmm.

- What about music lover?

- Obviously, he didn't show up.

- Maybe he did.

Maybe he looked you over and decided it was too risky

to meet you here.

- Maybe. - [H. R.] Get your coat.

- Now?

- Yeah, we'll force him to contact you in some place

where there aren't a thousand eyes.

Besides all this musical uproar

is giving me a blooming headache.

- Barrett, you go home and make with an ice bag.

I want to stay and listen to an orchestra

I don't have to dance to for a change.

(loud buzzing)

- Hey, wait a minute, what's a,

what's a five letter word meaning excavator?

- I don't know, besides I don't wanna miss

Mr. Schubert's unfinished B minor.

- Unfinished B minor.

Miner, that's it, of course.

(slow music)

- Madame.

Yes.

- Your car is waiting.

- My car?

- Yes, madame.

(cheerful music)

- This way madame.

- What is this?

- The gentleman with whom you had the appointment

was unable to come.

He asked me to take you to him.

- This way madame, if you please.

- This is one of Fleming and Wilde's places, isn't it?

- Yes madame, the newest and most splendid.

- Check please.

- Oh, I'll remember you madame.

- This way madame.

May I take you to your table?

(applauding)

(slow, romantic music)

- Well, Mr. Secretary.

It must've been persistence

that got you where you are today.

- I wanted you to see what you'd miss

by snobbing me.

Distinguished clientele, food and wine for gourmets,

devastating music.

- You certainly go to a lot of trouble making your contacts.

- Not for every contact.

- Really?

- A drink would improve me no end, if you'll drink it.

- Well if a drink could do that, more power to it.

- Excuse me, uh, Pierre.

- [Voiceover] Yes, Mr. Fleming.

- A bottle of mums 37.

- A bottle of mums, Mr. Fleming.

- Is anything wrong?

- My IQ, it must've been flying at half mass.

Mr. Fleming's secretary, huh?

- It wasn't my idea.

You started it.

- Oh, did I?

- I must admit, I rather enjoyed the job while it lasted.

- Did you?

- Except there was no future to it,

that's why I gave it up.

You're not very talkative tonight, are you?

Shall we drink a toast to your friend who didn't show up?

- Those x-ray eyes of yours don't miss a trick, do they?

- Nothing that concerns me.

- How could it in this case?

- Has it occurred to you that I might be the one

you were waiting for?

- Yes, as a matter of fact, it has.

Did you send me that letter?

- I might as well own up to the confounded thing.

I bundled it, didn't I?

But at least the result was the same.

I did meet you at the concert.

- Why didn't you stay until the end of the concert,

if you're such a music lover?

- I had more important things on my mind.

- Such as?

- Planning an evening for you.

- Like the song?

- Yes, very much.

♪ Come with me

♪ What you ask of me, I'll give

♪ Night or day

♪ For as long as I shall live

♪ While there's new love

♪ Needs no reason

♪ I'm yours for always

♪ Darling, all for love ♪

- Do you know what it's called?

- All for love.

- I've never heard it sound like that before.

- You didn't write that letter.

- No?

- Your technique is entirely different.

- Have it your way.

I've had mine.

Would you like to dance, or is that reserved for auditions?

- I'd like to, very much.

I'll pass judgment this time.

- Darling, your successor.

- For as long as she can hold him.

Obviously it's just the beginning.

The old Fleming pattern.

It's always the same.

With a graceful bow, he takes her in his arms,

and they dance a few steps in beautiful, harmonious silence.

While his busy, little brain

composes charming little speeches.

Now he begins his campaign to sweep her off her feet.

He tells her how exciting she is.

How fortunate he is.

And how fond he is of red hair.

Or black or purple hair as the case may be.

- Don't say it Mr. Fleming, let me guess.

I'm sure it's been said before.

(applauding)

Have her sing it again, please.

- I 'll be glad to.

♪ All for love

♪ Poets write the words that sing

♪ All for love

♪ Winter suddenly is spring

♪ And my heart blooms out of season

♪ With a strange enchantment only you can bring

♪ All for love

♪ Am I breaking every rule

♪ All for love

♪ Am I acting like a fool ♪

(knocking)

(moans)

- May I?

- Oh, Mr. Maxwell.

Come in.

- Sit down, my dear, sit down.

I'm sorry to disturb your afternoon's rest.

- It's quite all right Mr. Maxwell.

- There's something I want to tell you.

We've talked of advancement, haven't we?

- Yes.

- I've watched you closely, and you've done very well.

- Thank you.

- Now, this evening, you're going to meet

a very influential friend of mine.

- Oh?

- Mr. Nicholas Moryani.

He's coming here.

If you make a good impression on him,

your future is assured.

- What do you mean?

- You haven't traveled much, have you?

- [Sandra] No, just from New York, here.

- Never seen South America?

Never felt the warmth its sun?

Ah, what gaiety and color!

Magnificent.

The rolling tempest.

The towing peaks.

The charm of the cities and the people.

Hospitable and rich.

- Oh, don't kid me Mr. Maxwell.

That stuff's strictly for dreams.

- No, Mr. Moryani has it in his power

to provide many opportunities for a deserving girl.

- Gee, I can see myself in a setting like that.

But what would I do in South America?

- Mr. Moryani has many properties.

You might start as you did here.

At the height you might reach our unlimited, there.

- Oh, honestly I'd give notice right now.

- The boat doesn't sail 'til Wednesday.

- Oh, I'd love another boat trip.

What's the name of it?

- It's one of his boats.

- There's one thing I don't like about it though.

- What?

- Leaving this house, here.

My job with you.

I've been very happy.

- I'll be sorry to see you go.

- You will miss me, won't you?

Just a little.

- Very much.

- You know, Mr. Maxwell,

I've like you from the start.

- Have you? (laughs)

- I've often thought that maybe--

- Maybe someday I might join you there.

- Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful?

Both of us sailing away on the good ship, Moryani.

- Doriatus, Moryani is my friend's name.

He, he's a very fine fellow.

You'll like him, Moryani.

I'll put in a good word for you.

- I'm sure you will.

- Oh Sandra.

- Yes, sir.

- This is Mr. Moryani,

the gentleman I was telling you about.

- I'm very happy to know you, Mr. Moryani.

Mr. Maxwell was telling me that--

- Yes.

- That you work miracles.

- What's for dessert, Max?

- Ah, your favorite.

- You may serve Mr. Moryani's dessert now, Sandra.

- Yes, sir.

- Hey. - [Sandra] Yes, sir.

- Take this.

- Oh, I'm sorry sir.

- Would you like your coffee now, Mr. Moryani?

- Hmm?

- Coffee?

- Later, with brandy.

(buzzing)

- Excuse me, Mr. Moryani.

- Oh, it should be from over here, I--

- It's all right.

- I'm sorry, sir.

- Sit down, I want to talk to you.

- Thank you.

- Delicious.

What are you really looking for?

Oh, a better job, more money, a little fun.

- Fun?

I see.

- What any girl wants.

(laughter)

- Oh, Fleming, you're incorrigible.

- I'm returnin' on chitty charmers.

- Oh Maxwell.

- Yes, sir.

- The brandy.

The good brandy, Maxwell.

- [Voiceover] Oh, I know Sir Charles got the better

of the bargain.

- [Sandra] Sugar and cream, Mr. Moryani?

- No, black.

- Yes, sir.

- Is everything satisfactory, Mr. Moryani.

- Sure, Max.

Send her away.

- Oh Sandra.

Five glasses for cognac.

- [Sandra] Yes, sir.

- Would you mind, Mr. Moryani, Sir Charles--

- Oh, it's all right.

- Thank you.

- In the library.

- Yes, sir.

- Isn't she beautiful?

- Who is she?

- Why, nobody.

Nobody at all, just an ordinary girl.

Pretty, smart.

- She's too smart.

I don't want her in the deal.

- But--

- What did you tell her?

- The usual things.

- What did you tell her?

- Nothing, nothing at all.

- Did you tell her the name of the boat?

You blithering idiot.

- Well, that'll solve the problem.

Have a brandy.

- Oh, thank you.

That should do it.

- Right.

- [Voiceover] Oh Fleming, have a brandy old boy.

- Brandy, sir?

- Robert, for heaven sake, where are you--

- Be back in five minutes.

- I'm sorry Sir Charles.

- Sandra.

Oh no you don't.

Not this time.

- I beg your pardon sir,

but I'm not permitted to associate with the guests.

- I've combed all London for you.

What on earth are you doing in this idiotic costume.

- Making a living, sir, as a parlor maid.

Uniform is required.

- Oh, a living, eh?

So this is the job with a future.

- If you please.

(tray reverberating)

- May I be of any service to you sir?

Is there anything that you want, sir, in the kitchen?

- Uh, yes I, I lost a button off my coat,

and this young lady's going to be good enough

to sew it on.

- Yes I was going to find some--

- Do you have the button, sir?

- No, unfortunately.

Would you be good enough to fetch one for me.

A black one?

- Very well.

A black one.

- Sandra.

- Please.

- Couldn't you get out for a minute?

- I'm on duty, sir.

- Sir, the ladies maid will take care of the button for you.

Sandra.

- Yes, Mr. Maxwell.

- Take this out please.

- Excuse me, sir.

- Your button, sir.

- Huh?

- Your button.

- Oh, thank you.

(slow, peaceful music)

(foreboding music)

- Scotland Yard, please.

Hello, Scotland Yard, this is Sandra Carpenter calling.

Inspector Barrett, please.

Oh, hello Mr. Moryani.

- Hello.

You don't want to call anybody.

Well they're not in.

It was lonesome walking alone,

I thought I'd get a friend of mine.

- Why didn't you ask me?

We're friends aren't we?

- Surely.

- Max told me how friendly you are.

You're very much interested in our plan, too.

Aren't you?

- Oh, of course.

What girl wouldn't be?

South America must be wonderful.

I have, I really shouldn't stay out too long, I uh,

- It's perfectly all right.

Max won't mind it, as long as you're with me.

- No I suppose not.

- Incidentally, who were you calling?

- A man?

- Yes, a very old friend of mine.

- Don't lie to me.

- I'm not lying.

- What are you up to?

- Nothing.

- Why you!

(dramatic music)

What are you up to?

(Sandra screaming)

(dog barking)

You screamed.

(dog barking)

- [Sandra] Nothing, nothing.

- What'd you tell 'em?

- Robert, Robert!

(dramatic music)

Robert he's got a knife.

Oh, Robert I was so frightened.

Oh, I'm so glad you came.

- So am I.

I was beginning to think you didn't appreciate my advances.

- Oh, but I did.

I do, and I've thought of you, but I couldn't.

Oh darling, you knew.

- I couldn't get you out of my mind.

- Hello.

Hello.

Oh, pardon me.

I thought I had someone for a crime.

What's this?

Blimey, he's a cold one, isn't he?

- Look, do me a favor, will you?

- Anything you say governor.

- This is a case for the police.

Help me with him, I've gotta get my girl home.

- Place it is, governor.

Leave it to me, you take care of the young lady.

- Thanks.

By the way, who is our sleeping Romeo?

- Oh, I don't know.

I never saw him before.

All of a sudden, there he was, pushing me around and--

- Well he's not such a bad sort of bat.

- What do you mean?

- Look what he did for me tonight.

(playful music)

- It's true, we're engaged.

I'm gonna marry the man.

Isn't it wonderful?

- Congratulations, my dear.

- Congratulations, Miss Carpenter.

- Thank you Mr Gordon, thank you.

- We trust you'll be extremely happy.

- Hey we do indeed.

- Thank you.

- But I hope you didn't reveal your connections

with Scotland Yard.

- No, thanks to Barrett, I didn't have to.

- Did you get them all?

- Yes, we raided the Doriatus after arresting Moryani

and his playmates.

Gordon has sent traces on their operations in South America.

The thanks all go to you Sandra.

Incidentally Sir Charles is very grateful

for our bit of house cleaning.

He was quite shocked when he learned

that his downstairs is used as a recruiting station

for apprentices in crime.

(laughs)

- I can imagine.

You will let me know the minute you have any news of Lucy,

won't you?

- Of course.

- Well, isn't my guardian angle going to say goodbye to me?

- Well when you leave, my wings are gone.

Incidentally that man of yours, he better be good to you,

that's all.

If you ever need a friend just remember H. R. Barrett.

- I will.

- [Harley] When is the wedding?

You'll send me an invitation, I hope.

- Of course, but first Robert's giving me

an engagement party.

Tuesday at nine.

You'll be sure to come.

- I 'll be there.

Goodbye my dear, and God bless you.

- Thank you, Inspector.

(throats clearing)

- You say they're a gang of jewel thieves, sir.

But what have the girls got to do with it,

and where do they get 'em?

- Oh, in various ways, such as the personal column.

They round up young girls who are attracted by promises

of luxury.

Trip to a foreign country with all expenses paid.

Guarantee of an easy job, and they're shipped out.

- And when they land, they get the low down.

- Exactly.

Some of them are placed as hostesses in nightclubs,

if they are attractive enough.

Others go into the best families as domestic servants.

They're told what to do and they do it.

And if they rebel, or talk, they disappear permanently.

- Well, thank goodness the case is closed.

- Now the worst one in my experience

mostly the way it dragged on.

- Sorry gentlemen, but I don't believe this case is closed.

- [Voiceover] What?

- Do you think a gang would deliberately warn Scotland Yard

before each of its victims disappeared?

- [Voiceover] How do you mean?

- Do you think they'd write poems,

studiously copying the style of one of the most fantastic

madmen that ever lived, Baudelaire?

Does that have the earmarks of a gang?

- Well, sir, what is your theory then?

- I think we'll find in South America,

many of the girls who've been missing,

but not Louise Remington, nor Arlette Tomlinson,

or other girls immortalized by our modern Baudelaire.

And not Lucy Barnard.

No, gentlemen, we are not through.

But sir, you let Miss Carpenter go.

Well she's won her spurs.

She deserves to be happy.

(dogs barking)

- Charles, take the parcels into the drawing room.

- Yes, sir.

- [Voiceover] Hello.

- Hello, Julian.

My colleague and my conscience,

before I met you.

- [Sandra] Robert's told me so much about you.

- Robert's told me all about you.

- Hello, Julian.

- Hello, Sandra.

Robert is a very lucky fellow.

- Persistent.

- Julian, you haven't lived until you've shopped

for a trousseau with the prettiest red-head in the world.

- [Julian] Charming, but rather expensive experience,

I estimate.

- [Robert] That will be all, thank you Charles.

- [Sandra] Oh, so here's where the home fires burn

for those two celebrated bachelors.

- [Robert] For a long time, too, eh Julian?

- [Julian] Yes.

- [Sandra] Beautiful, really beautiful.

- Well, aren't you coming in?

- Now leave her alone, Julian.

She's trying to picture how the room will look

after she's rearranged the furniture.

- I am not.

Not until Wednesday.

Oh, I feel that I'm barging in on you two.

- No, no, no, I'm moving up to town.

- Julian, you're not leaving this house.

- Now, my dear Sandra.

- My dear Robert.

If our marriage is going to make your best friend homeless,

the deal is off.

- Oh really?

- Really.

- Well, let's discuss it over a glass of sherry.

- [Voiceover] Yes, Mr. Robert.

- Ah, Mrs. Miller.

Uh, Mrs. Miller, this is the future lady of the house,

Miss Carpenter for the present.

- How do you do Mrs. Miller? - [Miller] Miss Carpenter.

- Will you see that the spare room is order?

Miss Carpenter will be using it on Tuesday

before the reception.

And will you take all this paraphernalia upstairs?

- Oh, Mrs. Miller, my engagement party dress is in this one.

Please be especially nice to it when you hang it up,

won't you?

- I 'll be careful, Miss.

- Thank you.

- We should toast the bride don't you think?

- Oh, Julian, I'm not a bride yet,

and I'm very superstitious.

- And now it's an occasion for us.

Here's to Sandra.

- Gentlemen, I thank you.

- Now Julian, aren't you going to claim your prerogative?

You don't object to kissing your husband's business partner

from time to time, do you?

- Well that depends on how many business partners you have?

- Julian, go ahead.

- I haven't the lady's permission.

- Oh.

- That's all that's required.

Now, Sandra, I want to show you the rest of the house.

- And introduction to my new job?

- Yes.

Besides, I want to kiss you too.

(Sandra barks)

(foreboding music)

- Well, I'll be blessed.

- Pardon, sir?

- The chief was right.

- Well Gordon.

- It's come, sir.

Another poem.

- "The loveliest one reveals the tiger's lair.

"Knowing not what strange love's lurking there.

"Wearing shimmering stars on silken cloth of blue.

"Her last, 'tis death with whom she'll have a rendezvous."

I'm afraid, Gordon, there's not much chance

for this poor girl, either.

With her dress of shimmering stars.

(romantic music)

- There.

Looks like you walked through a shower of stars,

doesn't it, Miss?

- That's how I feel.

Believe me, I'm getting awfully fond of this cloud

I'm traveling on.

- Sounds like Mr. Fleming lately.

He's a bit giddy too, Miss.

- Thank you Mrs. Miller.

- Exquisite.

The stars in your dress are only surpassed by the--

- Stars in my eyes.

Thank you Julian.

Where's Robert?

- Oh, Robert won't be long.

- Oh, he isn't ready yet?

- Shall we wait in his study?

It isn't everyone who has this privileged.

- Oh.

- This is the one place that he like to call his own.

- Well, I guess this settles, once and for all,

the old question of who takes longer to dress,

a man or a woman.

- Well, Robert's a very vain fellow, my dear.

And vanity takes it's own time.

- Is that supposed to be news?

Look at all the encouragement he's had.

Robert dear, I anticipate loving you forever.

Your Margaret.

Methinks that's where Maggie made her first mistake,

no doubt.

Uh-oh, there's another one.

Remember the, oh don't take it down Julian.

I wasn't complaining.

- You might if you read this one.

I'm sure Robert will thank me for disposing

of this particular skeleton.

I'll go up and see what's keeping him.

(foreboding music)

Robert.

Robert.

(chuckling)

- Bad legs.

Mm-hmm.

Oh no.

(dramatic music)

Lucy!

(solemn music)

(dramatic music)

- Darling, people are arriving.

Is anything wrong?

- Robert.

- What is it?

- Tell me something.

- I love you, yes.

Were you doubting it?

Oh.

- Did you know her?

- This on the eve of my wedding

with a house full of guests coming.

- No, I don't think so.

Am I supposed to know her?

- I don't know.

- I'm glad you're not the jealous kind,

or I'd have to take up farming.

Did I tell you how beautiful you look?

Well we can't get into that now.

I want to show you off.

Come in.

- Beg pardon sir, a Mr. Harley Temple has arrived.

- [Sandra] Oh, yes.

- Should I show him to the drawing room.

- Would you ask him to come in here please.

He's a friend of mine.

Oh, I'm so glad you could come.

Mr. Temple, my fiance, Mr. Fleming.

- May I offer my felicitations to you both.

- Oh, thank you.

- I wonder if I could have a word with Sandra.

We'll join you in a minute.

- Yes, of course.

- Where did you get that gown?

- This?

At Lorraine's on Bond Street.

- Who was with you?

- Why, Robert and the chauffeur.

- Robert?

- What are you driving at?

"Loveliest one reveals the tiger's lair.

"Knowing not what strange love's lurking there.

"Wearing shimmering stars on silk."

Looks like I'm next, doesn't it.

Oh, you're wrong.

Robert didn't send this.

- I didn't say he did.

- That's what you hinted!

- I hinted nothing.

I only present you with a fact.

Your life is in great danger.

This poem.

What is it Sandra?

- [Sandra] No.

- What is it?

Have you discovered something?

Flemming's desk?

- But he has hundreds of pictures in here like this.

They don't mean anything.

- And the bracelet?

- I'm sorry you two,

but darling everyone's here.

- Mr. Fleming, I'd like to ask you a question.

Where did you get this?

- I, that's not mine.

- It was in your desk.

- Oh, it was.

- Yes, please tell him why.

- Oh darling, I would if I knew.

You can probably get those by the hundred

at any novelty shop.

- Mr. Fleming, this bracelet belonged to one of eight girls

who've disappeared from London.

- Well, why should that concern me?

- This is the girl who wore it.

- She was a friend of mine.

We've been trying to trace her.

- We?

- Oh Robert, please try to understand,

I was working with Inspector Temple.

- Inspector.

Oh, so that's what brought you to me?

- Oh no.

Yeah, well you certainly took me in.

- But Robert.

- Inspector, tell me what made you decide

to put her on my trail?

Did I look dangerous?

- Darling, it wasn't that way.

- She was only doing her duty, Mr. Fleming.

- Duty?

I congratulate you on your skill at making love

in the line of duty.

How else could you have caught me red handed,

in my own trap?

- Oh Robert, that's cruel.

- Not at all, it's complimentary.

I admire your resourcefulness.

You've held the evidence, the pictures, the bracelet,

in fact you have everything.

Except the eight girls.

- Mr. Fleming, I'm afraid I 'll have to ask you

to come with me.

- Robert, just tell us where the bracelet came from.

- All right.

I took it from the body of a girl that I murdered.

You've believed that all along, haven't you?

- No, no Robert, I haven't, I--

- Now look, angel, the show's over.

Stop acting.

- [Harley] Come, come, Mr. Fleming,

surely you have more than this to say.

- Well what do you expect me to say.

You found some pictures in my desk,

together with a rather hideous trinket,

and so you consider me to be an abductor of girls,

a maniac who has hidden the bodies.

- [Harley] Is this your typewriter?

- Yes.

- [Harley] It's the machine on which the poems were typed.

- You've said that before.

- Do you use paper of this sort?

Watermarked Victoria.

- My secretary buys my paper.

I don't know one kind from another.

- Mr. Fleming, on the night of February the third,

a girl named Louise Remington disappeared.

Can you tell us where you were that night?

It was a Monday night.

Your hotel dinner bill that night was signed at 8:37 pm.

You left the hotel.

- Great Scot, do you expect a man to remember a date

almost a year old?

- You'd be surprised what a man will remember

when it's important.

- Inspector Temple, I don't remember where I was

on August the 10th, on July the 20th,

or on September the 4th.

I've been out somewhere every night for years.

You can ask anyone in London.

- Precisely.

And very clever too.

A man who is seen out publicly night after night

doesn't have to remember where he was.

He's already established a cart Blanche alibi

for any night of the year.

- And uh, what about the photograph of Lucy Barnard?

It was found in your desk.

- Along with about 50 others.

I don't know these girls.

I may have seen them.

I may have talked to them.

I may even have hired them.

There are probably half a dozen photographs in my mail today

of girls wanting jobs.

- Mr. Fleming, here are letters from Lucy Barnard,

Arlette Tomlinson, Louise Remington, and Sandra Carpenter.

Each answer an ad in the personal column

for young girl wanted.

A photograph of the applicant,

was in each case attached to the letter.

- Hardly my method of selecting girls.

- No?

Mr. Fleming, these letter were found

in the files of your office.

- My office?

- Yes, Mr. Fleming.

In your office.

- You met Miss Sandra Carpenter and the Ionian Hall,

through an advertisement.

- That's absurd.

- But that's what you told her?

- I made that up, I--

- You mean you lied to her?

- I suppose you can call it that.

- Then it seems Mr. Fleming that you are capable of lying.

- Mr. Fleming why did you happen to go to the concert

that particular night?

- I told you I was bored.

- But you told us earlier

that you did not go to concerts because they bored you.

- It was a different kind of boredom that night.

- It was indeed.

You knew Sandra Carpenter would be there.

- How could I possibly have known?

- You advertised in the personal column,

calling yourself music lover.

She answered that ad.

Her reply was in your files.

That's how you knew.

- No, I happened to see her at the concert.

She was waiting for someone.

- How did you know that?

- I was sitting right behind her.

- And sizing her up.

- She caught my eye, yes.

She's beautiful.

- Caught your eye?

- I saw a bearded man sit down next her.

She showed him the note and then he left.

- It was really a perfect opening.

- Ah, so that you could carry on with your plans?

- I had no plans.

It was coincidence.

- Coincidence.

It's coincidence that you own a Westminster typewriter.

It's coincidence that certain keys are out of alignment.

It's also coincidence that you use Victoria paper,

and of course it's merely coincidence

that pictures of missing girls were in your possession,

and that letters they wrote in answer

to personal column advertisements were found in your files.

- Oh for heaven sake, I don't know how they got there.

I don't know!

- I see.

Well then I suppose it's nothing but coincidence

that on the last poem we received,

describing the dress Sandra bought in your presence,

your fingerprints were clearly marked.

- That's my fingerprint?

- Yes, Mr. Fleming.

Your fingerprint.

And we anticipate finding more such evidence.

(shovels scraping)

- Blimey, nothing here either.

All right, that's enough.

Inspector.

- Any luck?

- No sir.

- Me neither.

(beeping)

- [Voiceover] Scotland Yard, calling Inspector Barrett.

- Barrett speaking.

- Chief says you can bring the men back.

He's found something.

- Righto.

That's all men.

(dramatic music)

- Yes, she was strangled before she was put into the river.

Note the bruises.

Thumb marks on throat.

And the distinctist coloration.

- Body's been in the water at least two weeks.

If not more.

There were stones in the burlap wrapping to weigh it down.

- Thank you, gentlemen.

(buzzing)

Ah, that must be the Missing Person's Bureau.

Temple speaking.

You have the pictures of the body?

You checked the identification?

And the name?

Thank you.

We had better luck dragging the river bed

than digging in your garden, Mr. Fleming.

Look closely, please.

Do you know her?

- No.

- I think you did, Mr. Fleming.

Her name was Lucy Barnard.

Does that help you to recognize her?

- No.

No I've never seen Robert with this girl.

But surely, Inspector, you don't believe

that Robert strangled this Barnard girl

and then drown her and possibly any number of others.

- I didn't say he did Mr. Wilde.

I said that everything thus far, points to Fleming's guilt.

You could do much to establish his innocence

if you could prove where he was on certain nights.

February the 3rd, April 17th, May the 9th,

July the 20th, August the 10th.

- I could look at my records.

- We've already taken the liberty of checking your records

with a search warrant of course.

There's no indication in your diary

as to Fleming's nightly movements.

However, we do know from it, where you were.

Incidentally, Mr. Wilde, why did you happen to go

to the concert that night?

- I?

I've been attending the concert every month for years.

- I see, and Fleming just happened to go that night?

- Yes, but--

- And the rest of the evidence?

- It could've been panted on Robert,

every bit of it.

- Including his fingerprints on that last poem we received?

- That proves nothing, either.

Read that.

Now your fingerprints are on it.

- And yours, Mr. Wilde.

- I gladly admit that.

It proves my point, doubly.

Someone could've tricked Robert.

Placed all those exhibits that you value so highly,

in his desk, his files.

- Who for instance?

- Oh any number of people.

Some jealous woman who--

- I see.

- One of the many employees in the club,

his secretary, mine, one of the servants,

his chauffeur, even I.

- I've thought of that too, Mr. Wilde.

We've questioned any number of possible suspects.

Did you plant the evidence?

- What do you think, Inspector?

- I think Fleming could do a good deal worse

than engage you as you his barrister.

The simplest way for you to establish

Fleming's innocence now, Mr. Wilde

is to establish someone else's guilt.

Good night.

- Good night, Inspector.

- Oh, Miss Carpenter.

- [Sandra] Did you, uh?

- It's no use, Miss.

He hasn't changed his mind about seeing you.

- But, he'll have to.

I've got to see him.

This is all wrong.

Let me go in, please.

- Hold on, Miss.

He's got another visitor in there now, anyway.

And one at a time, that's the rule.

- Who's in there?

- [Officer] Mr. Wilde, Miss.

- Oh.

- Have you been able to do anything?

- I've got you the best counsel in England.

Sir Roland Harcourt's to be to defend you,

and I assure you he'll be more than a match

for Mr. Temple.

- It isn't Temple he'll be fighting.

- What do you mean?

- It's the evidence.

- How in heaven's name was he able to get it?

All that evidence pointing to me,

taken from my files, even from my own home.

Piece by piece, all carefully labeled with my name.

Every crime, ingeniously laid at my door.

Who would want this to happen to me?

I've spent an eternity here trying to discover that,

but I can't.

Julian, you think I'm guilty too, don't you?

- No.

No, I don't Robert.

And I don't think the evidence against you is conclusive.

- Is that Harcourt's opinion?

- Well, not exactly, I...

Listen, Robert.

Harcourt is of the opinion that the evidence against you

is phoned, all but merely circumstantial.

- Men have been hanged on circumstantial evidence.

- Robert, you mustn't talk like that.

You mustn't even think like that.

- Let the experts call it circumstantial evidence.

I call it a rope dangling over my head.

- Robert, Harcourt is confident that at least

he can save you from that

and get you off with a life sentence.

- A life in prison?

I'd rather confess and have the rope.

- But Robert, listen, you mustn't--

- Robert!

Robert, let me talk.

(sobbing)

He despises me Julian.

I saw it in his face.

- Robert doesn't despise you, Sandra.

He just doesn't understand that his circumstances,

not you, working against him.

- But I could make him understand, Julian.

If only he'd let me talk to him.

- Perhaps I can persuade him to see you.

He needs you badly, of course.

Yes.

How extraordinary.

Hmm, well thank you for letting me know.

(knocking)

Come in.

- Inspector Temple.

- Good morning Inspector.

- Good morning, Mr. Wilde.

Are you free?

- Yes, yes of course.

Sit down.

- Thank you.

I've been thinking about our discussion the other day.

You gave me rather a different view of the case.

- Really, in what way?

- I've come to the conclusion that you were right.

Fleming is not guilty.

- Good.

I'm glad you agree.

And yet you said the facts were indisputable.

- Too much so.

Too many of them, and too perfect.

Facts must have psychological cement, Mr. Wilde.

In Fleming's case, they haven't.

So they fall apart.

- Oh, what do you mean by that, Inspector.

- Let's take a look at this fellow, Fleming.

He's a healthy man.

The sort that lives with the world.

He's vain, but what man attractive to women isn't?

He has a temper, but who with imagination and flair hasn't?

He has tremendous enthusiasm for life, and people.

And he's very honest about it.

- I thoroughly agree.

- He envies no one.

Has a great love of beauty,

and he makes no bones about that either, agreed?

- Quite, quite.

- Mr. Wilde, I've described the type of man

who does not commit murder.

He doesn't have to kill in order to win.

Our criminal does.

- I'm afraid I can't quite follow you, Inspector.

- I 'll lead you slowly.

Our criminal is a man who is afraid to meet women openly

in the presence of others.

So, he advertises in the personal column, correct?

- Perhaps.

- This man has no brilliant approach to a social existence.

He leads a hidden life, and finds compensation

by indulging in secret, incredible fantasies.

- How could you know that?

- The poems, Mr. Wilde.

The imaginings of a man with grotesque ideas of romance.

A man who finds his pleasure in destroying beauty,

rather than making love to it.

- Interesting.

- To this man's way of thinking,

death is more beautiful than life.

Unfortunately he's compelled to express this thought.

- Oh come Inspector, surely that's a slim reason for murder.

- Mr. Wilde, that kind of expression requires murder.

- Really Inspector, I should never have suspected you

of such remarkable insight.

- Mr. Wilde, may I have your copy of Baudelaire?

- Baudelaire?

- Yeah.

- But that's a very unusual request, Inspector.

- This is a very unusual case, Mr. Wilde.

There's a quotation I should like to read you.

- I don't think I have a copy here.

- I'm sure you have.

- You are right, as usual, Inspector.

- Thank you.

Now, let's see.

Let's see.

Ah, here we are.

Now listen to this.

"A shrine of death and beauty

"is the sky drowned in red blood.

"The sun gives up his breath.

"Don't be afraid, my sweet, to die.

"For beauty still more beautiful in death."

The poems we received were written

in exactly the same meter and style.

In fact our criminal must have copied Baudelaire.

- Very odd.

- [Harley] Did Fleming have access to your books?

- The door between our offices was never locked.

- But Fleming hasn't the faintest idea who Baudelaire is.

He never reads poetry.

He doesn't like it.

It gives him nothing he couldn't get from a woman's smile.

You follow my reasoning.

- Yes.

I believe I do.

- Then we both know who the real murderer is.

- You seem to relish the cat and mouse game, Inspector.

- Aren't you enjoying it, too?

- Yes, I am.

So let's go on.

I assume that you are hinting

that I might be the murder.

Very well, then.

We must assume that I lured eight innocent girls away

and disposed of them.

The police had no clue.

I was quite safe.

Why then did I risk sending that last poem to you?

- That Mr. Wilde, was the one point I couldn't understand.

- But it's the critical point, Inspector.

The crux of your case.

- I didn't understand until quite recently

why you incriminated Fleming.

- Oh?

- It's very simple, really.

You're in love with Sandra Carpenter.

- Yes, I am.

I confess Inspector.

That you built up a superb case, theoretically, of course.

Incidentally it would be ridiculous to try and prove it

in a court of law.

- Mr. Wilde, I think you'll make a great mistake

if you underestimate the courts of this country.

- I confess you've made me feel possibly guilty.

Sent a chill of terror up my spine.

I confess all this.

But surely we needn't play this game any further, Inspector.

Not in light of the glaring fact

that I learned just before you came into this room.

- What fact is that?

- Don't you know?

Didn't you come from your office?

- No, what are you driving at?

- Why not half an hour ago, Robert Fleming confessed.

- Get me Scotland Yard, extension four.

Miser, Temple here.

What about Fleming?

When?

Oh.

Thank you.

Mr. Wilde, I owe you a most object and profound apology.

Good day.

(foreboding music)

- Get me Mr. Courtney.

Mr. Wilde calling.

Courtney, this is Julian.

Can you give me space to Lisbon?

No, no, tonight.

I can't wait until tomorrow.

Flight 16.

Midnight.

Thanks Courtney.

- Yes, Mr. Julian.

- Are you quite sure you ordered my cab Mrs. Miller?

- Oh yes, indeed.

That must be it now.

- I couldn't bear to be alone, Julian.

I can stay here, can't I Julian?

For just a little while?

- [Julian] Of course.

- I have a cab waiting.

- You need a rest Sandra.

You must go upstairs and lie down.

I'll send for Mrs. Miller, she'll give you a sedative.

You need a rest, Sandra.

- No, please, Julian.

I wanna talk to you.

I've gotta talk to someone.

Robert won't let me go it.

Inspector Temple won't even listen to me.

I thought there was hope but

Robert had no right to throw his life away.

- He couldn't compromise on a life in prison, Sandra.

A life bare of beauty.

That's why he chose death.

- Why should he die for a crime he didn't commit?

- He confessed, Sandra.

- He couldn't have done it.

He was so gentle with me.

He's good, Julian.

A woman knows.

She can tell.

By the touch of a man's hand.

By, by a kiss.

- Don't think any more, Sandra.

Lie down and rest.

I'll dismiss the cab.

- Thank you, Julian.

But Julian, I thought you were going to send the cab away.

- Oh no, Sandra, not yet.

Not yet.

We shall be needing it later.

- But why, Julian.

Why should we need it.

- So that we may go away together.

I didn't want to go alone.

- Well, let's go now then, Julian.

Let's go now.

- No, no.

I've wanted to talk to you alone like this

for a long time.

Sit down.

Do you be happy together,

for a while, here.

Then we'll go away.

I want you to see the river.

In the moonlight.

You and me.

There's so many things I want to say to you Sandra,

but Robert would never let me say them.

He hates me, did you know that?

He always hated me for my thoughts,

because I'm cleverer than he is.

He couldn't manage without me,

that's why he hated me.

He always laughed at me, flaunted his sweethearts.

He thought he was going to have you too,

didn't he Sandra?

But nobody can take my sweethearts away from me.

My beautiful, Sandra.

He can't have you now.

(screaming)

- Barrett!

Barrett!

(screaming)

Barrett!

Barrett, Barrett.

(screaming)

Oh, Inspector, the door was locked.

- [Harley] It's all right.

The window was just destroyed.

(sighing)

- Oh, Inspector.

Congratulations.

Your timing was perfect.

I was on guard against everyone but myself.

(knocking)

- Open up!

Mr. Julian!

- Good evening, madame.

- [Sandra] It's all right Mrs. Miller.

- [Mrs. Miller] Where's Mr. Wilde going?

- To prison madame.

It seems we arrested the wrong man.

- This is Inspector Temple, Mrs. Miller.

- How do you do?

- Oh, but Mr. Fleming confessed.

- That was our idea.

One confession leads to another.

At least that's what we gambled on, eh Sandra?

Poor girl.

Mr. Wilde did rather commit himself, didn't he?

- Are you saying that Mr. Fleming's coming home?

- Yes, that is if Miss Carpenter can persuade him to.

- Do you think I can?

- Of course you can my dear.

(romantic music)

- Oh Mike.

- Uh, yes Mr. Fleming.

- A bottle of mums 37.

- 37, sir.

- And two glasses.

- Welcome home darling.

Welcome back.

- It was a rough trip, for both of us.

- It was a nightmare.

But let's not talk about it, ever again.

- Your wine, sir.

- Darling, from now on,

it'll be all for love.

(laughing)

- Ah, celebration.

(triumphant music)