All language subtitles for Alfred Hitchcock s06e06 Pen Pal

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

A number of persons have written asking
me to explain the game of baseball.

Normally I wouldn't do this, but some of
those who wrote were professional

ballplayers, and I sensed a tone of
urgency in their appeals.

Baseball gets its name from the type of
field on which it is played, a baseball

field. There are 27 players on each
team.

No more than 13 are allowed on the field
at one time.

Nine from one team and from one to four
from the other. To make it a fair match,

the team with the smaller number of
players is allowed to carry clubs.

The larger team has no weapons at all,
except this pellet.

But it is hard enough to knock a man
unconscious.

Naturally, both teams occasionally use
their fists, but this is usually

unnecessary. You see, all players have
ingeniously attached sharply pointed

metal cleats to their shoes.

With these, the more experienced players
can, with grace and skill,

Badly lacerate an opponent, yet make it
look quite accidental.

As you can see, the game is an excellent
means for building character and

teaching young men good sportsmanship,
fair play, and first aid.

So much for the finer points of the
sport.

I see our friend the umpire is signaling
for time out. The game will commence in

just one minute.

Is this the home of Miss Lowen?

Yes. I'm Lieutenant Berger, ma 'am, of
the 8th Precinct. Here's my

identification.

Police? That's right. May I come in?

What?

This won't take too long, Miss Lowen.

Is it, miss?

Yes, it is.

Do people call you Margie?

No, never.

I'm sorry. The only name we had to work
with was Margie.

Oh, then you want my niece.

She's my brother's child, named after
me.

What do you want with Margie?

Does your niece live here with you?

Yes, but she isn't here now.

She left this morning to spend the
weekend with college friends.

Why do you want to see Margie?

Tell me something about your niece, Miss
Lowen. Has she lived with you long?

About nine years.

Her father was killed in the Second
World War.

And her mother died several years after
that. That's when she came to live with

me.

She's almost like my own child, really.

How old is she?

She'll be 21 next March.

Is she a popular girl? Does she have
many friends?

Isn't that a pretty silly question?

Why should the police care whether
Margie's popular or not?

Believe me, Miss Lowen, I have a reason.

She's popular enough.

I just told you she's spending the
weekend with friends.

So you did.

Now, is this her photograph?

Yes, this is a picture of Margie.

Where'd you get it?

Well, I'm going to have to tell you
something that may shock you, Miss

And it wouldn't be any of our business
if it wasn't for what happened.

But under the circumstances, I'm going
to have to tell you something about your

niece you may not know about.

Some two years ago, she started a
correspondence with a man named Rod

So?

I'm not saying there was any harm in it.

Maybe you knew all about it.

No, I didn't know anything about it.

But I still don't see why the police...
You see, this Collins got your niece's

name through one of these pen pal clubs.

You know the kind. They...

Run ads in romance magazines, places
like that.

Lonely, hard stuff.

Collins has been sending his letters to
a box number, and your niece has been

picking them up at the post office.

That's why you never saw them.

We've managed to trace this address
through one of the pen pal clubs.

And how did you get the picture?

Well, that was in the correspondence we
found in Collins' cell.

His cell?

Rod Collins.

is a prisoner at the state penitentiary,
ma 'am. A lifer.

What?

He got mixed up with some bad characters
when he was just a kid.

Killed a man in a fur robbery.

They would have given him the chair, but
seeing he was so young, they commuted a

sentence to life in prison with no
chance of parole.

He's only about 26 or 27 now.

I just can't believe it.

Margie wouldn't be interested in a man
like that.

Please don't be too rough on her, ma
'am.

You know how it is. Something romantic
about the whole situation.

Now, we found this other stuff in
Collins' cell.

Maybe you'd like to look at some of the
letters.

Well, yes, I would.

I'm sorry about this, Miss Lowen. But I
can tell you this much. There was really

no harm in it.

I mean, they censor all the mail at the
penitentiary.

But maybe if you read one.

Dearest Rod, you say you would give
anything to be with me.

Believe me, I long for that as much as
you do.

If only there were some way to make
these wild dreams come true.

Sometimes I think I would give
everything else up if only... You and I

live out our lives together.

Through our letters, we can dream and
live our love, even though...

Language has not the power to speak what
love indicts.

The soul lies buried in the ink that
writes.

You see, on the up and up... Lieutenant,

you said yourself there's nothing wrong
about all this. Then why did you come

here? Because things have changed.

Yesterday, Rod Collins took part in a
jailbreak.

Oh. Now, two of the three men who
escaped have been recaptured.

Collins is still loose.

He's escaped?

Oh, dear heavens.

Well, why should Margie be involved?

What has she to do with this?

Simply this, Miss Lowen.

Collins would want a place to hide.

He'll need money.

He'll need help.

He has no family, no friends we know of.

It seems logical he'll head straight
here for Margie. What can we do?

Please don't be alarmed. You'll expect
an ally, not an enemy.

He'll probably be armed.

But if you're calm, you'll be all right.

If he gets this far. Now, chances are
we'll catch up with him before he does.

But if he does try to contact your
niece, we'll have officers staked out

to pick him up before there's any
trouble.

Thank you.

Collins, Margie isn't here.

Yes, that's a break for us.

You might as well give me her address,
just in case.

Well, I really don't know it myself.

All I know is that it's someplace in
Larchmont, the home of a girl named

Baker. Well, if you don't know it, I'm
sure Collins won't.

What can I do?

We're sure we'll be able to stop Collins
in case he gets within striking

distance of your house.

Well, pretty sure anyway.

If we don't, I'll give you a number for
you to call.

And one other thing, Miss Lowen.

I wouldn't call your niece and tell her
about this. She might do something

foolish. No, no, I wouldn't dream of
telling Margie.

You expect to hear from her this
weekend?

She said she might call me tonight
around nine just to tell me she's all

I see. Well, we'll keep in touch in case
there are any further developments,

Miss Lowen.

Lieutenant. Yes.

This won't have to come out, will it? I
mean, about Margie's letters to this

man? Not if we can help it, Miss Lowe.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

you

You hold it right there, lady.

I'm not going to hurt you.

You just relax.

You'll be all right.

Now, don't scream.

Don't do anything.

Just sit down.

What is it you want? Sit down.

You're Margie's aunt, is that right?

Yes.

She mentioned you once or twice.

I guess she... I guess she never told
you about me, huh?

No, she didn't. Yeah.

You know what I am, don't you?

I'm a convict.

All right, where is she?

Margie's not here. She went away.

Don't you give me that.

It's true.

She went away this morning to visit a
college friend.

She'll be gone all weekend.

Don't you lie to me, lady.

If I had you sad, I wouldn't want to
have to hurt you.

Where'd she go? When do you expect her
back?

I don't expect her back.

Not till Monday.

It's no use. You're waiting here for
her.

Where's this place she's at?

I don't know. I don't remember.

You're lying to me, lady.

You've got to believe me.

She's visiting a friend of hers named
Gloria.

She didn't tell me where she lived, just
that it was upstate somewhere.

What do you want with Margie?

What's Margie got to do with you?

More than you know, lady.

You got anything to eat around here?

There's something in the kitchen. Show
me.

You be very careful.

Sit down here.

Sit down here. You make me nervous.

Look, lady, I don't want to be rough on
you.

I mean, your Margie's aunt just stands
for a lot with me.

Why should it?

Because I'm in love with Margie, that's
why.

And she's in love with me.

That isn't true. That can't be true.

You've never even seen my niece. I've
seen her.

Only in a photograph.

It isn't in a photograph, lady.

I know what she's like from the lettuce.

It doesn't make sense. Maybe it doesn't
make sense to you, lady.

I guess maybe I wouldn't expect it to
make sense to you. I've been writing to

your niece for two years.

She's been writing back.

I know her better than anybody else in
this whole world.

Maybe even better than you do.

It's the best thing that ever happened
to me.

Even if you felt that way, Margie
couldn't.

She just couldn't. And where has she
felt?

She's just a child.

She's not a child. You wouldn't
understand anything. You'd drive to

How could you understand anything?

Look, lady, listen to me.

You've got to see how it is.

I really love your niece.

I love her. I wouldn't hurt her for
anything in this world.

I just want to see her. I just want to
talk with her.

Now, you've got to help me.

I can't.

All right.

All right, now listen to me.

You know how old I was when they shoved
me in a pen up there?

I was 18 years old.

And you know how long I've been up
there, lady?

I've been up there for nine years.

You know how rotten lonely you can get
in a prison?

With a thousand other guys all around
you.

And you're lonely.

You know what loneliness can do to you,
lady?

I do.

I do know.

Oh, you just think you know.

You don't know nothing, lady.

I mean, you don't know nothing at all.

No, now listen.

Lady, when Margie and me started writing
those letters, it was like I'd come to

life again. I mean, I was up there dead.
I was buried.

Margie wrote these letters to me, and
she made me alive.

Don't you see that?

Maybe Margie was trying to be kind to
you.

She was always a kind girl.

Even as a child, she was always bringing
home stray cats and sick animals.

But that's something different from
love. You must see that. I'm no sick

lady.

I'm a human being just like you are.

You don't know, Margie, even if you
think you do.

When her parents died, she needed
someone to love.

Well, at first there was me, and then as
she grew older, she needed something

else.

But this isn't real love that you're
talking about.

I'm gonna make it real. Don't you see
that, lady? That's exactly why I broke

out. I gotta make it real.

And how long would it last?

You can't go on running forever.

I know.

I know that lady.

And I'm going to take her away with me.

We'll just leave the country. And Margie
will go with me. I know she will. Even

if she would, how could you live?

Could you make a living? Do you even
have a trade?

Yes. I was in a prison machine shop for
nine years.

I was the best slave man there. I could
walk into any job, any place in this

country right now.

With one eye on your work and the other
watching for the police.

Margie isn't made for that kind of life.

You can't ask her to do it.

If you leave right away, you'll have a
much better chance of getting away.

And you must forget about Margie.

Maybe if I could just see her.

I just want to see her. I just want to
look at her just for one minute.

I'm afraid that's impossible.

I gotta see her!

I went through a lot to see a lady and
you ain't gonna stop me.

I can't help you. Yes, you can.

You can call her for me and don't tell
me you don't know where to reach her.

Because I won't believe that.

This is Margie Lowen's aunt.

Could Margie come to the phone?

Yes.

Is Collins there? Just answer yes if he
is.

Yes, yes, that's right.

Does he have a gun?

So you were going to call Margie for me?

That's how you would have helped me by
calling cops.

Please go away.

We can't help you here. Please go away.

I think I'll let you get away with this.

You think you can double -cross me just
because you're Margie's aunt? Don't come

any closer.

Don't come any closer.

How's that feel?

Feels great.

You got a cigarette?

Well, that about does it, Miss Lowen.

I want to thank you for your help.

Don't bother to get up. I'll see myself
out.

Oh, I would take a sedative, Miss Lowen.

Try to get some rest.

I'll do that.

Good night, Miss Lowen.

Good night, Lieutenant.

Dearest Rod, I've just learned from my
aunt about what happened, and I can't

tell you how grieved I am by your
dreadful experience.

Will you think me terribly hard -hearted
when I make this confession?

I'm glad you're back in prison, Rod.

Glad that we still have these letters to
share between us.

These letters that have come to mean so
much to both of us these past two years.

Oh, my darling.

My poor darling.

And so the curtain falls on our play,
Pen Pal, which reminds

me... I must write this note to a pal in
the bullpen.

It's time for our seventh inning
stretch, after which I shall steal home.

I have an announcement to make, which
you will all be overjoyed to hear.

There will be no more commercials.

positively no more commercials during
the balance of this program.

So until next week at this time, good
night.