Original subtitles

Our storey is set in Manhattan, in the

early 1950s.

Hello?

Yes, Harry?

No, I just got in.

What is it?

What's wrong with the Ferguson contract?

Well, why didn't we spot it before?

No, it's all right.

I have the papers in my briefcase.

What clause do you want me to look

up?

5A.

I'll read it before I go to bed

tonight, and I'll call you first thing in

the morning.

No, it's all right, Harry.

I'm here on my own, anyway.

Ellen must have gone out.

Right, right.

Good night.

If you want my opinion, it won't be

worth it.

What do you want?

Close the drawer.

I said close the drawer.

What are you doing here?

I've come to kill you.

Did you hear me?

I heard you, yes.

Did you say kill me?

You seem to take it calmly.

I admire that.

Well, I'm calm because obviously there's been some

mistake.

No.

With someone else, not me.

There's been no mistake.

Now, how did you get in here?

What is this, a quiz show?

I expected more from you.

Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you.

Now, I tell you, you've got the wrong

man.

No, somebody wants you dead.

Why?

I didn't ask.

It doesn't matter to me.

No?

So, mister, you've come to kill me.

That's right.

It's a pity to die in ignorance.

Who hired you?

Could you at least tell me that?

Maybe I came on my own account.

I don't think so.

How do you know?

I know my enemies and you're not among

them.

My wife, she hired you.

That's absolutely right.

Ellen hired you.

I suppose you know her motive.

Same as yours, I expect.

Money.

I have a great deal of it and

she wants it.

All of it.

Could I get myself another brandy?

Be my guest.

How old are you?

Fifty-seven.

In three months.

Why?

Your wife?

Twenty-three.

There you are.

You were stupid to expect anything lasting, weren't

you?

I guess you're right.

Tell you the truth, I expected a divorce

in a year or two.

An expensive settlement, but not death.

Yeah, it surprised me a little that a

clever man like you should have married her.

Well, I thought I could manage her.

Besides, she's beautiful and I like beautiful things.

What went on beneath the surface didn't interest

me as much.

You mean to say that unlike all the

real estate you own, you bought her without

checking the foundations.

That's very good, mister.

Tell you the truth, it appears I have

more interest in glass and cement than I

have of people.

Maybe because they interest me more.

They last longer, for one thing, and they

increase in value.

People tend to depreciate.

I don't have to tell you that.

You're in business too, I see.

You're clearly a professional.

I assume you've killed before.

Yes.

And like every good professional, you enjoy your

work.

Yeah, I enjoy it.

Ruthless, maybe, but I do enjoy it.

Yes, buying and selling real estate can be

ruthless too at times when people get in

the way of progress.

You've been in this room five minutes and

I'm still alive.

There's no hurry.

Oh, I see.

Then it's not so much the killing that

gives you your kicks, it's the moments leading

up to it?

Very shrewd.

Do I take it, as long as I

keep you amused and entertained, I stay alive?

Within a time limit.

You're a professional killer and yet you look

like an educated man.

I don't understand.

Right up on the wrong side of the

tracks.

Lower east side.

Drugs, prison, welfare, no regular job.

It's a popular theme.

You've seen it in the movies.

I only go to the movies when I

own them.

How old are you?

28?

30?

No, I only ask because sitting there you

could pass for one of my young executives.

I don't think you could afford me, Mr.

Williams.

We'll see.

Another drink, Mr...

How about Smith?

Yeah.

All right, I'll have another drink.

My glass is here.

I'd like to watch you pour my drink.

I prefer not to take risks.

You knew there was a gun in that

drawer.

That was a risk, surely?

Part of my pleasure.

Before the kill.

Build up your hopes and take them away.

Like taking a toy from a child.

Sit down.

Cheers.

Well, here we are.

You waiting to kill me and me waiting

to be killed and we're drinking the best

brandy money can buy.

It almost makes murder respectable.

Oh, I see.

A silencer.

Well, that's very considerate.

Nothing to disturb the neighbours.

Looks like an expensive piece of equipment.

You've come a long way from your Lower

East Side.

I've noticed you're wearing handmade shoes.

You've noticed a lot about me.

In business, it pays to know every detail

about the people you deal with.

Now, in the space of ten minutes, I've

learned a great deal about you.

I wonder how much you know about me.

Do you expect me to panic?

Perhaps plead?

Some do, yes.

And you enjoy that, don't you?

Before you pull that trigger, that feeling of

intense power.

But without that, you're nothing, are you?

Whatever skills I have, Mr. Williams, and I

have many, I taught myself.

You see, we're both alike.

Both self-made men.

Though I suspect you had a far better

start in life than I did.

You think of the things I have to

consider in my work.

The right gun for the right job.

The right clothes to wear.

The right accent to use.

The know-how to get into a place

like this.

You know, I even went to a drama

coach to learn the necessary refinements.

I learned my trade step by step.

The hard way.

Congratulations.

You weren't born with all this.

You came to New York from a Chicago

suburb, where you built your empire on fraud

and some shady deals...

All right, all right, you've done your homework.

You rattle me there for a moment.

Can we talk about your client?

If you like.

Where would she be tonight?

A party.

Some people called the Emersons.

There'll be plenty of people to swear she

never left their sight during the time of

your murder.

The Emersons?

There's irony for you.

Oh?

It was at the Emersons I first met

her.

Ellen always did have a good sense of

the theatrical.

She sat in a corner of the terrace

in a white satin gown.

Low-cut, but not too low-cut.

I fell in love with her right there.

Three months later, we were married.

And so you made your first mistake.

So it seems.

The Emersons.

Jack Emerson is not as rich as I

am, but I'll have to admit, he's better

looking.

And I imagine you'll make it look as

if I was shot by a burglar.

You really want to know?

Why not?

It intrigues me.

As I say, don't let me die without

knowing all the thought and trouble you and

my wife have taken over my death.

Then I'll tell you.

After I shoot you, I'll take the brandy

glass and wash it and return it to

the bar.

Then, of course, I'll wipe everything else I've

touched, including the desk drawer, the key, and

the brandy decanter.

If you wipe that clean, won't the police

think it's strange that neither my fingerprints nor

my wife's are on it?

I'll take care of that detail when you're

dead.

I'll also mention that fact to your wife

when my job's completed.

And before you leave, you'll take a few

things to make it look like a real

job.

That won't be necessary.

You see, the police will assume the burglar

panicked after killing you, dropped everything, and ran.

It's a well-planned job.

Well, it's a comfort to know I won't

be murdered by some unknown hoodlum in an

alley somewhere.

When was the last time you were in

an alley?

Leave it!

I said leave it!

You expecting a call?

Harry Blair.

He's a company attorney.

There's a question about a contract.

He knows I'm here.

Well, whoever it was, it's too late now.

Look, look, Mr. Smith, you see that painting

there?

It's pretty.

It's worth $30,000.

Oh, I'm tempted, but I'm not a fool,

Mr. Williams.

I don't want anything remotely connecting me with

you.

Oh, it's a good picture.

I appreciate art, especially what it's worth, but

not to the extent of going to the

electric chair.

Anyway, once I take a contract, that's it.

It's a matter of professional pride.

Of course, you know all about that.

What are you waiting for, then?

For me to show fear?

They always do.

And you enjoy that, don't you?

They appeal to your humanity, and that, of

course, is hopeless.

Yes.

And let me appeal to another instinct, greed.

That painting, Mr. Smith, it's still worth $30

,000.

I already gave you my reasons for refusing

your offer.

Well, look at it.

I won't move.

No, go on, look at it.

You appreciate art, so you say.

It's interesting.

Only interesting?

That's all.

Your victims, they offer you money?

Nearly always.

And that, too, is hopeless?

So far, it has been.

Mr. Smith, behind that picture is a wall

safe.

So?

Inside that safe is $20,000 in cash.

That's a lot of money.

Easy, easy.

I'm just going to the safe.

Why don't you stay where you are?

Somehow, I don't think your professional ethics would

allow you to shoot a man in the

back.

No, I imagine you get a great deal

of pleasure from seeing the faces of your

victims before you kill them.

There you are, you see?

$20,000 in old bills.

Untraceable.

I know Ellen didn't offer you that.

Every man has his price.

Is this yours?

Oh, I see.

You're a rarity, too.

An incorruptible murderer.

There, you see?

Old bills.

Old receipts and cash checks, all completely valueless.

What the hell do you think you're trying

to do, huh?

Tell me what!

You gave me a chance of going into

that wall safe and placing inside it your

brandy glass with your fingerprints on it.

That was your glass, not mine.

I'm sorry, it was yours.

And I imagine the police will wonder, what

are brandy glasses doing in my safe?

After all, it's not the place to put

a glass, is it?

And since this is going to be a

case of murder, they'll have the intelligence to

lift those fingerprints.

I haven't taken my eyes off you.

You couldn't have switched those glasses.

You're wrong.

You seem to have forgotten that at least

twice you took your eyes off me to

look at that picture.

There, you see?

You just did it again.

Only for a second or two.

It was time enough, and you know it.

No, there wasn't time.

You couldn't have switched those glasses.

Your hand's shaking, Smith.

Sit down.

I said it was impossible.

You couldn't have switched those glasses.

Those glasses were next to each other.

It was easy, I can assure you.

You're lying.

That was your glass, not mine.

Well, then you're going to get a great

surprise when the police come for you.

I wonder how you go to the chair,

Smith.

Unlike your victims, cringing at your feet, begging

for mercy, offering you anything if you'll spare

their lives.

No, I imagine you said to yourself in

bed at night, when my time comes, I

shall die with professional calm and dignity.

That's a common and comforting delusion, Smith.

You'll probably have to be drugged, head shaved,

dragged to the chair.

Listen, you open that safe or I'll kill

you.

Believe me, I'll kill you.

We both know you will kill me if

I do open it.

So what are you planning to do with

the glass?

Let's talk about that, shall we?

Sit down.

Please.

Now, if you don't murder me, and somehow

I don't think you will, I shall take

that glass to a private detective agency and

have the fingerprints reproduced as evidence.

I'll place it in a sealed envelope along

with instructions that in the event of my

violent death, or even if it looks accidental

or due to natural causes, that envelope will

be forwarded without delay to the police.

The rest will inevitably follow.

That won't be necessary.

I'll go out the way I came in.

No.

I now have a plan and I insist

on it being carried out.

It will provide protection for my future.

Why don't you go straight to the police?

I have my reasons.

Your wife...

Yes?

Your wife could hire somebody else to kill

you.

Yes, you're right, she could.

With my glass in that safe, I could

still be accused of your murder.

I could still go to the chair.

I imagine so, yes.

Yes, you could.

For a crime I didn't commit.

Why don't you relax and have a cigar?

No.

They're the best.

You still haven't answered my question.

What question was that?

Your wife could hire somebody else to kill

you.

I could still go to the chair.

Unless, of course, she were unable to hire

anyone.

Unable to...

You're not getting my point.

You said my wife was at the Emerson's?

That's right, she said she'd be leaving at

11.

11?

Good, that's good.

Why?

It gives us time.

Time for what?

For what I have in mind.

I take it you don't know where the

Emerson's live?

No.

You've got exactly 45 minutes.

It's a big house, but what is especially

convenient from your point of view, it's set

well back from the road.

There's a winding driveway, tree-lined.

It offers perfect concealment in the dark.

And I don't have to spell it out

for you.

How you complete the job is up to

you.

Here's the address.

Memorise it, and then I'll burn it.

It's something you have to do, Smith.

It's for your protection as well as mine.

Where are you going to be at 11

o'clock?

I'll be at my club.

It's only five minutes from here.

I always drop in there on Friday nights

to play cards with a few friends.

Of course, they will sympathise with me when

I get the phone call telling me that

my wife has been shot.

Wait a minute.

I gotta think about this.

Yes, think about it.

But it'll be tonight.

It must be tonight.

I seem to have no choice.

Oh, Smith.

That key to my desk drawer.

You still have it.

Do you ever really love her?

I was very fond of this piece when

I first bought it.

Now it bores me.

I'll have to have it replaced.

Good night, Mr. Smith.

Good night.

And, uh, drive carefully.

Harry?

Jerry?

I'm fine, thank you.

I'm sorry to call you so late.

I wonder if I could meet you at

the club in 10 or 15 minutes?

Yes.

No, I was just going over the Ferguson

contract and I want to talk about it

while it's still fresh in my mind.

Yes.

Oh, Harry, one other thing.

I need something photographed.

It's a valuable object.

I want you to arrange it.

I'll leave it in the safe overnight.

Thank you, Harry.

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