Original subtitles

(orchestral music)

(man snoring)

- Let me out.

Let me out!

No. No! Let me out!

Please let me out! Let me out!

(theme music)

- [Tape] A beautiful village.

A kind of English Shangri-la man could get lost in forever.

I got a room at the village inn, the Columbine.

There's a sign over the inn.

A painting of a girl dressed as a columbine.

Her face is haunting. It's obviously a very old painting.

I wonder who she was.

By the way, the inn serves the best

bitter beer I've tasted in this country.

(orchestral music)

(cash register ringing)

(patrons murmuring)

- [Innkeep] Well, good morning, sir. What can I get ya?

- I'd like a room if you've got one.

- [Innkeep] Oh, I think we might manage that.

How long would you be wanting it for, sir?

- Oh, a few days I imagine.

- [Innkeep] Righty-o.

Why, Jenny.

Show this gentleman up to number three, will you please?

- Alright, this way, sir.

(orchestral music)

- [Jenny] I'll bring the money back for you, sir.

- [Man] Yeah, that's alright.

- Everything alright, sir?

- Yes, fine, thank you. - Good.

- Anything I can get ya, sir?

- Yes, I'd like a glass of your bitter beer.

- Certainly. Would you like a half pint or a pint, sir?

- Oh, a pint, I think.

My grandfather always told me,

"never do anything good by halves."

- So, you've heard all about our beer, have ya?

- No, it's just that I'm an optimist.

- Aye, Jack's pints are a bit optimistic, too.

Just you wait 'til the froth gone down

on that one and see how much you got left.

- I'll put less froth on my beer

when you put more cream in your milk, Bill Gurney.

- To tell you the truth, gentlemen, I like the froth.

- So do we, but we'll never do

to let old Jack Woodridge know that.

American are you?

- Yes. Robert McCabe. Mind if I sit down?

- Make yourself at home.

(men yelling)

- Not there, though, if you pardon us.

That's old Fred's chair. - Fred?

- The local handyman, rat catcher, jack-of-all-trades.

Pretty fair poacher, too!

But don't say nothing about that.

- If he found anyone sitting in his chair

he'd think the end of the world had come.

- He did find someone, mind, a few months back.

Another American gentleman like yourself.

Though I'm afraid he didn't start

from the back of the bunk as you all over again!

- An American you said?

- [Bill] That's right. Jim Starling. Came from Chicago.

Very fond of him we were.

- Someone else was very fond of him, too.

- Hey, can I get you another, sir?

- I'm fine, thank you. Who's that?

Ms. Dominie, up at the manor.

- [Patron] Donny Lansford, Jonathon Lansford's niece.

You can just see the manor from here.

- [Bill] Their family goes back centuries.

Mr. Jonathon owns everything around here

as far as the eye can see.

- As far as the eye can see.

- A genuine English squire, huh?

- Well, not exactly. But I'll tell ya this,

he behaves more like one than if he was one.

- What do you mean?

- Well, it's like this, see.

Lansford family's got roots here and Bavaria.

- Lots of intermarrying. Combining fortresses.

- So, you get half and half!

- And when Ms. Dominie's father died,

and her father--

- He gets the other half, the German half.

Not English at all.

- Jonathon Lansford?

- Ah, it used to be Johann.

- [Patron] They changed it to Jonathon.

- Yeah, that's right, he's a foreigner.

- Yes, but he's a nice enough chap mind, just the same!

(patrons talk overlapping)

- This other American, Jim, uh...

- [Patron] Stone. - Stone!

Did he stay up at the house?

- Oh, no. But he might as well have done,

he was up there that often.

(patrons laughing)

- There was a time when we all thought

Jim Stone would be settling down here.

- Either that or she'd be off

to America with him riding off.

- What happened?

- Come along, now, time gentlemen, please.

Let's have your glasses or we shall

have the law down on us.

- Get away, we've time for another.

- You certainly have not, I've got

my license to think about.

Sir, I wonder if you'd mind signing

the register while you're about it.

- Nice to talk to you.

- [Group] Nice to talk to you, sir.

- Hey, what was all that about?

Since when did you keep licensing hours?

- You know perfectly well that Mr. Lansford does

not like his private affairs discussed with strangers.

(unsettling music)

- [Tape] I'm beginning to regret

the time I spent vacationing in the rest of Europe

when all the time Dominie was here,

kind of waiting for me.

The face of her ancestor looking down from the inside.

I can't bear to think that I might not have come here.

Never have met her. Strange, isn't it?

The ways we meet our fate.

And this is my fate, I've... I feel it.

That's the end of this tape.

I'm sending it to you by the afternoon mail.

(unsettling music)

- I should say it does work!

My old uncle was using it until

the day he died last year.

Do you know with his powder flask,

and a few rounds of ball shot,

well, he could pick the legs off a fly.

(patrons laughing)

You ask ol' Fred there.

- [Robert] Fred?

Fred with the chair?

- The very same, sir.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

- They tell me one of my countrymen

nearly started a war in here.

- How's that, sir?

- When he sat in your chair.

- Oh that, oh yes. Yes indeed.

He did make up for it, though.

- Oh, let me get you a beer.

- Oh, that's very kind of you, sir. Thank you.

Now that's better. That is much better. Isn't it? Isn't it?

Sally me ol' girl.

I caught her in one of my traps once.

And look at her, she looked at me so old fashioned

I did not have the heart to kill her.

Go on in home, there's a girl.

Now then, what was that you were saying, sir,

about your American friend?

- Oh, he wasn't a friend, I didn't know him.

But they tell me he was very popular.

- Very popular he was, I don't remember

any other stranger that was ever

invited so often up to the manor.

- Fred!

- Are you on business in these parts, are you?

- No, I'm a painter. Sort of.

I'd love to see the inside of that house.

- Get another? - Yeah. Excuse us.

- I'm afraid you will never manage that, sir.

- Why not?

Put that on my bill, please. - Yes, certainly, sir.

- Thank you. Why not?

- Because you won't be invited. That's why.

Mr. Lansford was close enough before,

but he's been washy ever since the American went.

And yet nowadays he don't see nobody.

No more than Ms. Dominie.

And yet it used to be such a fine old household,

always full of people and parties.

- Why did it change?

Nobody knows. It seems in a way

as if a great kind of sorrow fell on that house,

when Mr. Lansford became responsible for Ms. Dominie,

that was after her parents died.

- This Mr. Uh... - Lansford.

- Lansford. What's he like?

- He's a scholar and a gentleman.

He owns the family bank in the city,

but he spends most of his time in the estate,

just runs it like it were a business.

- Is he married?

- Divorced.

Yeah, he's got plenty of money, yes, Mr. Jonathon.

But he don't have much luck.

Even his blessed rats are bigger

and stronger than anyone else's.

- His rats?

- I'll put that one on your bill as well, sir.

- Thank you. - Oh, thank you, sir.

Yes, well, you see, sir.

I am by way of being unofficial rat catcher in these parts.

Well it'll be about six months ago,

he asked me to come up to the manor

and set some chain traps in the cellar.

I did, and it worked, too, 'cause Ms. Dominie

told me the rats had all been disposed of.

And she said, "I wouldn't be wanted no more."

- So? - Well.

One of my little moonlight walks about two months ago,

I heard them chains still rattlin'.

- Well it was, they reset the trap and it was a new rat.

Don't you think?

- Evening, Fred. - Good evening, Ben.

If you don't mind I'll just say goodnight to you then, sir.

- Finish your beer!

- No, no, thank you very kindly, sir,

I'll just be saying good evening to you, sir!

- Who's that? - That's Ben Kroom.

Been with Mr. Jonathon for years.

He's Mr. Jonathon's game keeper.

- And old Fred's the local poacher.

(Robert laughing) - I see.

(orchestral music)

My arm, some barbed wire, I wondered if I could--

- I'm sorry, there's nobody here who can help you.

- But my arm, it's--

- You better go to the doctor in the village.

- Who is it, Ms. Faversham?

- It's just a stranger, Ms. Dominie,

it's nothing for you to worry about.

- It's alright. Sorry to have bothered you.

- Heavens, that looks alarming.

You'd better sit down.

Ms. Haversham, some water, and antiseptic, and a bandage.

How did it happen?

- I got careless with some barbed wire.

On the stairs just now you looked

at me as though you knew me.

- How could I?

There. Thankfully it wasn't your painting arm.

- You'd make a good nurse.

- I used to think I'd like to be a surgeon.

Strange, isn't it? How few women surgeons there are?

- Yes.

What a fantastic atmosphere. The tone of the whole thing!

I mean the color top. The paints are talking.

Could I use it? - What?

- This room? It'd make a great background for a painting.

From here.

No.

From here, yes. Yes, you get the full depth,

fading away to mysterious shadows,

and you, there, in the foreground.

You would have to be the centerpiece, of course.

The room is beautiful but it's nothing without you.

I'll make it noon with the sun streaming in,

yes, catching your hair, standing just like that!

Maybe with a book in your hand sort of brooding. Enigmatic.

- They're Jonathon's.

First editions, mostly, and all Edgar Allan Poe.

Jonathon says he's still an underestimated writer.

What do you think? - I never read him.

- Not even "The Pit and the Pendulum?"

- I don't get much time for reading. Any reading at all.

- Then why don't you take your education in hat?

- Maybe you could read them to me in the cellars.

For atmosphere.

- No. Jonathon wouldn't allow that.

But you can come and paint if you like.

I'm sure Jonathon couldn't object to that.

Tomorrow then?

- Tomorrow. I look forward to it!

- You shouldn't, you know. Overdo it.

Mr. Jonathon wouldn't like that.

- Chat with a passing stranger?

Where's the harm in that?

- Oh, it's disturbing you. Overexciting you.

Look at you, Ms. Dominie, your cheeks are all flushed.

- A bit of color back in them, that must be good.

- Well, all the same, Ms. Dominie, I must--

- You fuss too much. - I care for you, Ms. Dominie.

I look after you.

- What was he doing here? - He hurt himself.

- Did she see him?

- It's all right. I was here most of the time.

- Yeah, well there'll be trouble

when Mr. Jonathon hears about it, I promise you.

- He's coming again. Tomorrow.

- Oh, no, not if Mr. Jonathon

has anything to do with it he won't.

- Oh, he'll come. Mr. Jonathon

didn't cross along a thing like that.

- Can I see? - No.

Just stand there and relax. Talk if you want to.

- What about? - Oh, I don't know.

What do girls usually talk about?

Boyfriends? - Don't be boring.

Can you get any of the books in?

- What's boring about boyfriends?

- Let me see. I want to see. I insist on seeing!

- It doesn't look like anything yet!

- It never will look like anything.

You don't know the first thing about it!

So what are you playing at?

Why did you say you were an artist in the first place?

- I needed to get into this house. Talk to you.

- For heavens' sake why? Why didn't you just come and call?

- Would I have gotten in?

- No, I suppose not. Jonathon's very protective.

What was it you wanted to talk about?

- Jim Stone.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- I think you do. I'm a detective.

Jim Stone disappeared, I know he was

in this village, and I know he met you.

- I think you better leave.

It's not a very pleasant thing to do,

tricking your way into a private house.

I've never heard of him.

- [Jim] I've found my Snow White.

Her name is Dominie Lansford. Wow.

She lives at the big house.

She's like everything else around here.

- Stop it! Shut it off!

I never want to hear his voice again! Who are you?

What do you really want?

- I told you. I'm a detective.

But my name's not McCabe, it's Stone.

The same as my brother. - Jim Stone is your brother?

- That's what stopped you yesterday. The likeness.

Jim and I worked together, our own business.

He was taking a sabbatical holiday over here,

but he always kept in touch with me,

let me know where he was.

After he reached this village the messages stopped.

That was two months ago, and Jim didn't come home.

You do know him, don't you? - Yes.

- Why did you say you never wanted to hear his voice again?

Why?

- Would you say I was pretty, Mr. Stone? Attractive?

- Yes, I would.

- I'm twenty-two. Almost twenty-three.

Since I grew up I've had three serious boyfriends.

I mean ones I really cared about.

I couldn't hold any of them.

- How do you mean "hold?"

- They all walked out on me.

Walked out of my life, disappeared.

Have you any idea what effect that has on one?

- Kids are funny like that.

- Jim Stone wasn't a kid.

I thought he was the one. I really did.

He was strong. He loved me. Really loved me.

Or so I thought. I certainly loved him.

I swore I'd hold onto him, even if I had to...

- Even if you had to what?

- What is all this?

Kroom tells me you've undertake by an artist.

You know, if I wanted a painting of my niece,

I'm quite capable of commissioning one myself.

Who are you? What on earth do you want here?

- He's a detective, Jonathon. He's looking for Jim Stone.

- What do you mean "looking for him?"

He's back in America, isn't he?

- No, Mr. Lansford, he isn't.

He was last heard of in this village.

That was two months ago, since then, nothing.

Ms. Dominie tells me that he walked out of here,

suddenly, for no reason.

- I didn't say for no reason.

There was a telephone call from America,

wasn't there, Jonathon?

- Yes. Yes, there was.

- What was the call about?

- I don't know.

- One thing we do know was evidently about

something more important than me.

- Mr. Lansford. I'm not only a detective,

I'm Jim Stone's brother.

There was no phone call from the states.

- I know.

- But she just said that there was!

- You have someone walk out on you

for no reason is one thing, Mr. Stone.

To have him do it after a possibly

traumatic telephone call is quite another.

At least I should imagine it helps a little.

- You mean she was lying?

- You're a man of plain judgments, aren't you?

Well, quite conceivably, Dominie believes it by now.

- I think people know when they're lying, don't you?

- Not always, Mr. Stone.

Not when the lie eases the pain of loss.

To quote your own poet, Edgar Allan Poe.

"With great loss brings an iciness.

A sinking. A sickening of the heart."

To relieve it with a lie is a small offense.

Do you read Poe, Mr. Stone?

- No, I don't.

- It's a most subtle mind.

He stayed here once, you know? As a child.

I like to think that this house might have given him

the ideas for some of his finer stories,

"The Fall of the House of Usher" for instance.

But no doubt he was told that the foundations

of this house have been unstable for centuries.

I perpetuate that he planted the germ

of the much more perilously crumbling house of Usher.

It's the part of pain, you know.

- No, I didn't know.

- I don't mean he celebrated it. He understood its sorrow.

He could forgive anything that people might do to avoid it.

Yes, he knew all about the sufferings

of the ultra sensitive.

De Beranger has written a preface to Usher.

I translate it for you.

"His heart was like a hanging lute.

The gentlest touch and it quivered."

Reading him can be quite a therapy.

I recommended it to Dominie, but instead

of soothing agitation it seemed to increase it.

- Mr. Lansford, exactly when did

my brother leave this village?

- I don't know.

I headed off to London on business for a few days.

When I came back he had gone.

- What you were saying two nights ago

about rats at the manor.

- Aye, we know all about that, don't we Sally, me ol' girl?

We know all... Why, what'd I say about 'em?

- About one of them still rattling in its chain trap.

- Did I say that? - Yes, you did!

- Oh, well if you is to ask me,

that might have been no rat.

- What do you mean?

- The noise it was making!

- No, you said it was just the rattling of the trap!

- I never did.

I never said that it was just the rattling.

- What else then? - There were groans.

Weren't there, Sally? Groans.

- You mean human groans?

- Well, I certainly do not mean there were rats groans.

(laughing) Rats groans.

- What do you think was making them?

- Oh, now that would be telling.

But it's not from the ol' eyes sattin' on my set.

Did you know that that house. It is haunted?

Yes, sir. Did I ever tell you that house--

- No.

You never did.

(drunken mumbling)

What?

- And that is not the only thing that I could tell you.

About that house.

- Looks like you'll be needing that little old

rat of his to take him home tonight.

- He keeps talking about noises

from the cellar of the manor house.

Groans or something like that.

- Everybody knows about that.

Why, it's the foundations.

They're not safe, they haven't been for years.

You know they keep settling, resettling, complaining like.

- I see.

- [Innkeeper] Come along there, gentlemen, please.

Come on, Fred, lets be having those glasses.

Come on, Fred, come on! Come along!

Jives, gentlemen, please.

Let's bring up your glasses, please.

(drunken mumbling)

- I heard groans.

- [Jim] I've now met Jonathon Lansford, Dominie's guardian.

He seems to be trying to tell me something about Dominie.

Trying to warn me in some way, but I'm not sure about what.

(orchestral music)

(birds flapping)

(rock landing)

- [Kroom] There's no one there. You're imagining things.

(trap closing)

It's probably a fox. I'll set the dogs on it.

Tear it to pieces.

(dog barking)

(dog barking)

(dog growling)

- The rabbits are doing a fierce

amount of damage to me this year.

- It's not the rabbits I'm interested in. It's the foxes.

We nearly caught one last night, you know, but it got away.

Got a sore foot today, I shouldn't wonder.

(patrons laughing)

Still, we're keeping the dogs out all night

from now on and I'll be carrying a gun myself.

- How do you tackle foxes in America, Mr. Stone?

- Oh, it's not as easy there, Mr. Whidden.

Our foxes shoot back.

(patrons laughing)

- I must speak to you.

- We'd better go to my room.

What was it you wanted to talk to me about?

- You must leave. Go away today.

- Any particular reason?

- I think I'm... I think I might get fond of you.

- That sounds like a good reason for staying.

- Please. I mustn't. I musn't want you.

It's for your own sake.

- You're mad, bad, and dangerous to know, is that it?

- Don't joke. I've decided I must

never want anyone again. It's the only way.

- The only way to what? Dominie, you're not making sense.

- Just go, that's all.

- I'll go when I've found out what happened to my brother.

- You're very like your brother.

I got quite a jolt when I saw you.

- I got a jolt when I saw you.

(door opening)

- Dominie, I've been looking all over for you.

If I hadn't seen your horse outside I would--

You've forgotten, haven't you?

We're lunching with the Ridel's.

- No, Jonathon, I haven't forgotten.

I'll go back and get changed.

- Goodbye, Mr. Stone. - Goodbye.

- What did she come to see you about?

- That's none of your business.

- Oh, please.

- She told me to go away.

- She said that?

- The sooner the better, she said.

- Than I shall do as she says.

- What do you know about man traps, Mr. Lansford?

- What kind did you have in mind, Mr. Stone?

- Fred's late, isn't he?

- Yes. Yes, he is.

Still, the later he is, the less it'll cost you in drinks.

(patrons laughing)

- I was looking forward to another of his tall stories.

- Yes, well is there anything I can get you, sir?

- Yes, a beer, please. - Right.

- Evening.

What?

You won't tell him, right? Will you? Huh?

- Where does Fred live? - Fred?

Well, just down the village by the pond.

Sir, you've left your drink!

(vacuum cleaning)

- He was a rascal! He was a proper rascal.

- But you're going to miss him.

- Yes.

- [Jenny] Well, you couldn't not like him,

the old fella, really.

- [Innkeeper] If he hadn't had that one drink too many.

- [Jenny] I knew he'd end up in that pond one day.

- [Innkeeper] He's gonna be missed, this old Fred.

He's the best rat catcher this old village ever had.

(suspenful music)

- Rats.

- Hmm. Dry.

- Its never been in the water, has it?

- Yeah, but Fred always kept him in his pocket. Always.

- That's another thing I thought.

Anyway, the police should be interested. Don't you think?

- Use your phone.

(car zooming)

(car honking)

(cars accelerating)

(cars screeching)

(car honking)

(car skidding)

- Get that inside you.

You know, that was as pretty a piece

of driving as I've ever seen.

I enjoyed it. - You enjoyed it?

What the devil were you trying to do?

- Invite you to a party! - What?

- I called on you here, heard you'd driven off,

thought I'd catch you up. And you turned it

into a most enjoyable race.

Well, I suppose it was my fault really.

A race or any kind of chAllange I can never resist it.

- Yesterday you were asking me to clear off,

today you're inviting me to a party.

- Ah, correction, yesterday Dominie was telling you to go,

today I am asking you to a party.

Well, I do like company. Occasionally.

- And occasionally you give sudden impromptu parties?

That alcohol was the best, don't you think?

And this one promises to be particular fun.

It's fancy dress. And the theme? Well, you guess.

Edgar Allan Poe.

- I don't know anything about him, I told you.

- Oh, well then, come as anything you like!

Oh, you will come, won't you?

- I'll think about it.

There was a package on the front seat of my car.

Is it still there?

- Oh, I'm afraid the dog ran off with it.

- I'm sorry. Was it important?

- Not anymore. - Oh, good.

I'll see you tonight then. Nine for nine-thirty.

Perhaps you will come as one of your

wild American heroes, what about that? Bye.

- Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.

- You got it in one.

- Now I know why you wanted to borrow that old hat,

but there's something missing, though, sir,

just come here a minute.

Look, why don't you try that, sir? And try the old gun, too.

- Well, how do I look?

- If I was an apache, sir, I'd run a mile.

- Hope you have a good time, sir.

- Thank you.

- Columbine Inn. Yes, he's here.

It's for you, sir. It's Ms. Dominie.

- Hello? - You mustn't come tonight.

- Why not?

- I mustn't see you again ever.

(thunder rumbling)

- Good evening, Mr. Stone.

And welcome to the world of Edgar Allan Poe.

(group laughing)

"Much of madness, and more of sin,

and horror the soul of the plot."

I'm afraid Edgar Allan Poe always

puts it so much better than anyone else.

With a breath of front eclectic fresh air draw rebels.

The frontiersman? Most appropriate.

- What are you supposed to be?

- Oh, I'm Hop-Frog. - Hop-Frog.

- Oh, sorry, I forgot you're not an aficionado.

Hop-Frog was the court jester,

who hoisted the king and his court men,

ironed them, and burned them alive.

Ah, here we are.

Thank you.

Yes, my other guests, I fear have the most

regrettable lack of imagination.

They've all decided to come as the Mask of the Red Death.

The one with the plague, if you remember.

Oh, sorry, sorry, you don't remember.

Yes, the plague that invaded finally

even the sea of the nastetic road of Prince Prospero.

I suppose if Poe were writing today he would have

substituted television, hmm?

What a detective.

(Jonathon laughing)

That's all or something.

- Maybe he wouldn't have written it at all today.

You can't seal yourself off anymore.

- There's some of my guests who

already know, and others who don't.

- Evening, Mr. Stone.

- Oh, hello.

- This is the time of masks, you see.

They lend mystery to even the most brazen of personalities.

Your own, Mr. Stone.

That's a rather ineffective

disguise in your case, I'm afraid.

And that costume, well, you're quite distinctive.

- When was the last time you threw one of these parties?

- Here's your mask, Mr. Stone.

- I said when was the last time?

- Oh, I throw them from time to time

when the world gets particularly boring. Don't you say?

Yes, and here we have that new voluptuous world

of the fear that-- (thunder rumbling)

Like that.

Murders in the remote.

A little disappointing that one to hold the storm.

An animal can have no fun.

Without conscience, murder is quite flavorless.

- Are you speaking from theory, I take it?

- I am really very sorry we didn't

get acquainted sooner. You make an amusing companion.

- Where's Dominie?

- Well, you disappoint me. I was understood

that lovers could detect each other

even through a lead casket.

- Who said we were lovers?

- Well, you can't help it with Dominie.

- Dominie?

Dominie?

(Jenny laughing)

- Hello, Mr. Stone. - Oh, sorry!

I thought you were Dominie.

- You enjoying the party, Mr. Stone?

- Yes, thank you.

- I told you not to come.

- The last message I got from my brother

was that he was coming to a party at this house.

Dominie, the other men who walked out on you,

did they do it after a party to you?

(crowd yelling)

- [Jonathon] We come now, ladies and gentlemen,

to the effects in the case of Mr. Valdemar,

who you will all remember was the man

whose mind was kept alive by a hypnotist

for seven months after his body had died.

Mr. Valdemar, can you explain to us

what are you feelings or wishes?

- For gods' sake, put me to sleep! Or wake me up!

I tell you that I am dead!

(crowd gasping)

- But the hypnotist you may remember

then made the requisite mesmetic passes

to release Mr. Valdemar from his trance.

For what occurred then, however,

as Mr. Poe says, it is quite impossible

that any human being could have been prepared.

(crowd gasping)

- Dominie?

(echoing)

Dominie!

- We come now to our second tumble, Mr. Stone.

- Where's Dominie?

- The title of our second tumble

is "The Cask of Amontillado."

Which you have never read, either.

Which is a great fitting for you.

- Your stories bore me, Mr. Lansford.

- It's a pity, because if you had read it

you would never have allowed yourself

to be lured down to the cellars.

- Nobody lured me!

- In the story, Fortunado was lured down by his enemy

by a request to sample a fine sherry.

- I don't drink sherry!

- Naturally, the lure for you was different.

You thought Dominie would help you

solve the mystery of your brother.

I can't quite tell you the way Poe does, of course,

but in the story "The Cask of Amontillado,"

it begins with Fortunado's enemy getting him drunk.

- There are two big differences.

I'm not Fortunado and I'm not drunk.

- No, you're not drunk, Mr. Stone.

You're drunk with a refinement of my own.

That second glass of champagne.

Help me with him, and tell Kroom to get ready.

- I'm sorry, Ms. Dominie, the champagne's run out.

I'd have fetched some more,

but the cellar door seems to be locked.

- I'll get you the key.

(crowd murmuring)

(menacing music)

- In the story, Fortunado pleaded.

The chain is measured to perfection.

- It won't work. Many people know I'm here.

- And then Kroom puts on your hat, jacket, and mask,

a great many people will see you leave, Mr. Stone.

Or did I forgot to tell you,

to sorry ends of the victim being bricked in.

Walled up. Alive.

- That's how it was done with my brother, was it?

- Does nothing ever that prized in your life

to find that it has been taken away from you?

A wife. A loving children. Your brother.

My excellent sister.

Dominie's a progulent prize, I can't--

I can't ever let anyone take her away.

- Kroom and Ms. Faversham won't

keep their mouths shut forever.

- I do this to protect myself and my possessions.

Kroom and Faversham do it for money.

Oh, the candle, by the way, some of their refinements.

You can either have the light or the air.

When it's lit it's burning up precious oxygen.

Put it out, and you're the dark.

That much sooner.

Goodbye, Mr. Stone.

Forever.

- Ms. Dominie's bringing the key.

- He's not there, are you sure the door's locked?

- Well, I thought it was, miss.

- Ah, just what I was coming for, sir!

- (speaking German) Spread the good cheer, Woodbridge!

This is a celebration!

- What are we celebrating?

- What do we ever celebrate, Dominie? Your perfection.

- I was looking for Robert Stone.

- He must be around somewhere.

- Help!

Help!

- Now, the prisoner had managed to smear

his bonds with his food, and while the ax swung

lower and lower, the rats in his cell were

gnawing away the ropes!

He got free in the nick of time!

But if his bonds had been of steel.

- Have you seen Robert Stone?

- Mr. Stone? Yes. I saw him leave a little while back.

- Are you sure?

- There's no mistaking that outfit of his.

- Where was I?

- I believe you was fiddling about in that desk over there.

(Robert panting)

(champagne popping)

(crowd laughing)

(explosion)

- Excuse me.

(rubble falling)

You know, it's a curious thing.

I had the distinct feeling I'd underestimated you.

(gun firing)

(bullet ricocheting)

Just a little to the left, I see.

It takes a slight direction to the right.

(gun firing)

- Look out!

(rubble falling)

(glass breaking)

(Dominie screaming)

(crowd screaming)

(crowd coughing)

- Help him! Help him!

(house creaking)

(crowd screaming)

(wall collapsing)

(suspenseful music)