All language subtitles for House.Of.Wax.1953.720p.BluRay.x264-[YTS.AM] (2)

Hello, Matthew, what are
you doing here so late?

I came to get the books. I
want to study our accounts.

We've been doing very well lately.

Over 200 paid admissions today.

You call that good Saturday business?

If you weren't so stubborn, we'd
be turning them away from here.

Who cares a hang about history in wax?

There are people in the
world who love beauty.

But more who want sensation, shock!

Morbidly curious! I won't cater to them.

Their money is as good as anybody else's.

You should have seen them turning
them away at that Wax Museum...

on 23rd Street tonight: the Eden Mus�e.

The story's the same at
Madame Tussaud's in London.

-If you'd only listened to me...
-I know, Matthew.

I'd put in a Chamber of Horrors:
murder, torture, executions...

scare the life out of people. I
don't care for that kind of patronage!

You're a great artist, a genius sculptor.

I'm an ordinary businessman who wants
a quick return on his investment.

I've put $20,000 in this
historic peep show of yours.

-I could use that to better advantage.
-All right, Matthew.

I've known for some time you
wanted to dissolve our partnership.

-I may be able to accommodate you.
-How?

A friend is bringing Sidney Wallace,
the art critic, to see my work tonight.

Wallace is rich, and I think I
might persuade him to buy you out.

That sounds interesting.

-I'll want a profit on my investment.
-Yes, Matthew.

I understand.

You leave everything to me,
and I promise you it will be...

-That should be they, now.
-I'll wait in the office.

I've heard of Wallace.
He has a pot of money.

If he likes your stuff,
put a stiff price on it.

-Does Jarrod live here?
-Yes, he has a room upstairs.

You'll like him, Sidney.
He speaks your language.

Please come in. I'm
happy to see you, Bruce.

I thought you wouldn't
come on such a bad night.

We were delayed. He
had to be at a gallery.

Mr. Sidney Wallace. Professor Jarrod.

-A pleasure.
-For me also, Professor.

That title was bestowed on
me when I became an exhibitor.

It has little to do with my real work.

If you come, I will show
you what that work is.

The visit of such a
distinguished critic...

may cause my children to become conceited.

To you, they're wax. But to me,
their creator, they live and breathe.

Here we have two great
lovers from the past.

Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, and
Mark Antony. Their last meeting.

You'll recall, Antony,
believing Cleopatra to be dead...

killed himself with his own sword.

When Cleopatra found out what happened,
she quickly followed her lover.

You noticed how cleverly the
hair is mounted on the scalp?

Yes. How do you do that?

Real hair of the proper
color and texture...

is pressed into the slightly
warmed wax with a scalpel...

one hair at a time.

Each wave and curl of the
subject's own hair is reproduced.

Here's President Lincoln and his
assassin, John Wilkes Booth...

one of my few concessions to the macabre.

That's the best figure of Booth I've
ever seen. You almost expect him to speak.

-I wonder what he'd say.
-I'm sure he'd rant a bit.

Even after he shot Lincoln and jumped
from the President's box onto the stage...

he couldn't resist turning to
the audience and taking a bow.

I found him a very stubborn person.

-Stubborn?
-Unbelievably.

For days I argued with this fellow
before he posed the way I wanted him to.

-You mean, he talked back to you?
-Of course.

It's not easy to shut an actor's mouth.

These groups are like dimensional
paintings of the old masters.

This is not only a great
show, it's an art exhibit.

That's what I told you.

Here we have Joan of Arc,
a favorite subject of mine.

-I understand that. It's beautifully done.
-Thank you.

I've done her over a dozen times,
and still she doesn't complain.

What was wrong with her?

There are no authentic
portraits available...

so sculptors and painters
have to work from models.

I've never found the right
one, but I will someday.

It's a shame to race through this
exhibit. These figures should be studied.

You're very kind. My creations
have some merit, I suspect...

but in bringing back to life
the lovely Marie Antoinette...

I feel I've done my best work.

I've never seen anything so exquisite.

People say they can see my
Marie Antoinette breathe...

that her breast rises and falls.

Look at her eyes, they
follow you wherever you go.

She is very real to me.

You know, her eyes do follow you.

They're made of glass, more's the pity.
The exact size and color of the original.

They're inserted into
the sockets from inside...

by way of the hollow neck, before
the head is attached to the body.

Forgive me, my dear, for
discussing your intimate secrets.

I'm sorry. I lose myself at times.

If people knew what you
have inside these walls...

you couldn't accommodate the crowds.

What you need here is
exploitation, more advertising.

-That's what I've been telling him.
-My partner wouldn't agree.

He's not happy here. He wants
to invest in something else.

Would you become a partner in this
venture? Would you buy him out?

I might be interested if my lawyers
approve and the price is right.

With your support, I'd do
wonders. I'd make any sacrifice.

Unfortunately, I'm leaving for Egypt.
I'm financing some excavations there.

I'll be back in three
months, then we can discuss...

You make me very happy.

You intrigue me, Professor. I
believe we'd get along together.

-Good night.
-Good night.

-And I'm grateful to you...
-It's all right.

Thank you for your visit
and your encouragement.

I'll see you in three months.

-Good night.
-Good night.

Mr. Wallace is a great art critic,
darling. You heard what he said.

Does he make you happy?

Of course you'd say that. But
I don't care about success.

The world will acknowledge your beauty.

And you, my friends...

Cleopatra, Mark Antony,
Lincoln, Joan of Arc, all of you.

How would it suit you to be famous again?

I know it'll please
you, you conceited devil.

It was like you to get yourself
shot down in a burning barn.

Couldn't do it without
a spotlight, could you?

Do you really hear what they say?

Of course.

A man has to be a little
nuts to be a good showman.

The sooner I'm out of it, the better.

You'll be out soon, Matthew.

Mr. Wallace returns from
Egypt in three months.

He'll be ready to talk business then.

-I heard him. That's no good for me.
-But, surely...

I want to buy something. It'll pay off
in a big way and three months is too late.

What guarantee do I have that
he won't go cold on the deal?

-Sorry. It's the best I could do.
-I can do better.

How would you like to
split $25,000 with me?

And you call me crazy?

You ever thought of what would
happen if we had a fire here?

In the cellar, there are six barrels
of wax. Wax is paraffin based.

It's highly inflammable. This place
would go up like a paint factory.

Burn? Burn all my people?

-Do you think I'm a murderer?
-Stop dreaming.

These dummies are insured for
$25,000. That's $12,500 for each of us.

You'd have money to begin again.

I'd rather die myself than
see my friends destroyed.

I won't let you do it, and
I'll kill you if you try.

Don't be stupid.

All you have to do is to strike
a match and the thing is done.

Yes, my friend was a
genius. A great artist.

Only I could understand him.

We were like that, Cathy. Just like that.

-Couldn't they ever find him after
the fire? -Not a sign of him.

The place burned like a
paint factory. Like a volcano.

He was such an impractical fellow.

But I still loved him.

Had I been there, I might have saved him.

You might have gotten burned yourself.

Yes. Such is life.

No matter how much we lose,
we must still go on living.

Was there any insurance on the Wax Museum?

Yes. I had a little difficulty about that.

According to the partnership agreement...

the money was to go to
the survivor of the others.

The insurance company insists
upon proof of my partner's death.

They always want a corpse.

But they settled finally.
This afternoon, in fact.

Certified check. I got it
cashed. The money is in my safe.

-You know what that means, baby?
-No, what?

That little trip I was
talking to you about...

You're such a card!

-How much did you get?
-$25,000.

Where would you like to go? Atlantic City?

Niagara Falls. We can get
the license in Buffalo.

-License?
-Yes. You know.

Legitimate.

Why not? It might be fun.

Waiter, my check.

Pull it tighter, Sue.

I want a waist like Anna Held.

If I pull it any tighter, you're
not going to be able to breathe.

That's all right. I don't
need much breath, anyway.

As my late friend Matty used to say:

"If a girl don't watch
her figure, the men won't."

Wasn't that the man you were to marry?

Yes, but he hung himself instead.

Matty was such a card.

Where is your new friend
gonna take you tonight?

The Hoffman House for dinner,
and then to a vaudeville show.

-That sounds like fun.
-He's a free spender, all right.

Little bit older than I like 'em,
but very distinguished looking.

-Is he nice?
-Awfully nice.

A real gentleman, except when
he has had a couple of drinks.

That's to be expected.

I'm moving up.

I'm moving up in the world, honey.

No girl ever hits the jackpot
till after she passes 14th Street.

-Is that how it goes?
-Sure.

Look at me.

Not too long ago, I was
down on Delancey Street.

And tonight I'll be right up there
among the bright lights on 23rd.

Now, when you get up there
tonight, don't drink too much.

Don't worry, I won't.

He keeps trying to pour the liquor into
me, but I always manage to keep my head.

After all, now that I'm
going regular with a swell...

I got social obligations.

You know how it is when a fella...
No, of course you don't know.

You're not like me. You never could be.

You got all the brains and
all I've got is what I've got.

You know, I'm surprised
you even talk to me.

What nonsense. You've been so good to me.

Why not?

A girl needs a friend when
she is down on her luck.

Holy smoke! Look at the
time. I've got to hurry.

Did you find a job yet?

No, but they need a hat-check
girl at the Silver Slipper...

and I've got an appointment
with the manager.

I know that fellow. Watch out for him.

-But why? What's the matter with him?
-Nothing much.

-Long as you know how to duck.
-That kind?

Yes.

-Did you eat today?
-I had everything I needed.

To hear you tell it.

-Besides, you're behind in your room rent.
-Mrs. Flannigan will wait for me.

Don't count on that.

The old buzzard almost locked me out once.

There.

If I don't sizzle him tonight,
I might as well give up.

He's picking me up in a hansom cab.
No trolley for him. He is real society.

All I've got is 50 cents.
Buy some dinner with it.

-No, Cathy.
-Come on.

My friend will give me some money
tonight and then I'll stake you.

I don't need any mad
money. I never get mad.

Good luck tonight at the Silver
Slipper. And don't forget to duck.

Just a moment, Miss Allen.

-What are you coming in so quietly for?
-I didn't want to disturb anybody.

-Did you get the job?
-No.

-Why not?
-I had trouble with the boss.

You'll get your money.

Cathy promised to lend me some
tonight when she comes home.

You better get right up there,
then. Because she's home now.

-Couldn't it wait until tomorrow?
-No, it could not.

If you want to sleep in this
house tonight, you get that money.

All right, I'll try.

Cathy, it's Sue. Are you there?

I tell you, the scream came from up there.

Let's look into it.

-Usually there's a policeman at the corner.
-That's why I'm blowing the whistle.

Cabbie!

-What is it, Mother?
-It's Sue.

This is a surprise. I
was just thinking about...

-What happened to you, dear?
-What's wrong?

-Wait a minute.
-What happened?

-Wait a minute.
-What is it?

Cathy Gray, the girl in my rooming
house, was murdered tonight.

-What?
-I found her.

The man who killed her
was there in the room.

I tried to get away from him.

But he followed me into the street.

No, Scott, please don't go out there.

It's all right, darling.
Don't be frightened.

It's all right now, dear. You're safe.

-Who found the body?
-One of my roomers. A friend of Cathy's.

-Sue Allen.
-Which one is Miss Allen?

-She isn't here.
-Where is she?

I don't know. We heard her scream.

When we went looking
for her, she was gone.

-Are all your roomers in?
-All but Miss Allen.

Lt. Brennan will want a
statement from each one of you.

See that nobody leaves the house.

When I arrived at the rooming house,
this girl had been dead for several hours.

The immediate cause of
death was strangulation.

The mark of a cord is still on her throat.

My examination indicated she'd
probably been given a drug.

-You were right.
-What was it?

Something to make her
sleep. Veronal, perhaps.

I'll know as soon as we
hear from the laboratory.

How long would it take
for such a drug to work?

That would depend upon
how much it was diluted.

It was probably given to her in a drink.

That's how it's usually done.

-Business is slow tonight.
-What?

-Three suicides and two murders...
-And a traffic case since 9:00.

The fellow got hit by an automobile.

I didn't think they go
fast enough to hurt anybody.

Give them time. They're
getting better every day.

I hope you like it here,
honey. It's the best we've got.

-What's the matter with this one?
-You'll get used to that.

The embalming fluid makes them jump.

One of the suicides. Just like a woman.

They always have to have the last word.

-Why didn't you tell the police?
-She's doing that.

Last night was the time to do it.

-She was in no condition to come here.
-This is murder, Mrs. Andrews.

The body of Cathy Gray was
stolen from the morgue last night.

No.

Why would anyone want
to take Cathy's body?

We are as much in the dark as you are.

We had a similar case
before. Matthew Burke.

I read about that.

And Patterson, a Deputy
City Attorney disappeared.

We found no trace of him.

We could've laid our hands on
that man that you saw last night.

That's the strangest
description I've ever heard.

-No human being can look like that.
-Sure you didn't imagine it?

I did see him. Just as
I described him to you.

He was incredible, but very real.

Could he be the man who
took Miss Gray to dinner?

That's impossible.

She told me that he
was very good-looking.

That's what the landlady said,
it's a man with gray hair.

We have no suspects
fitting your description.

If we did, we'd have
him in the crazy house.

Don't leave town. Where can we find you?

27 Lafayette Street.

-Miss Allen will stay in our home.
-Make sure of that. She's our only witness.

That's all. Thank you.

How do you do?

I received a letter giving this
address and signed Professor Jarrod.

But I know the Professor's dead. Can
you tell me who wrote this letter?

My name is Sidney Wallace.

It's so good...

Forgive me. Shaking hands with
me is an unpleasant experience.

My hands are no longer
hands. Sit down, please.

This is Igor. He's a deaf-mute.
He is one of my assistants.

I'm going to open another wax
museum under a different name.

-It startled you, seeing me here?
-I thought you were dead.

Jarrod is dead. I am a reincarnation.

When I saw your signature, I
thought somebody was fooling me.

I don't understand how
you escaped the fire.

It's a mystery to me, too.

All I can remember is that I
tried to get out of my studio.

-I failed at first, but here I am.
-What a frightful experience.

Somehow I made my way
to the house of a doctor.

I still have my limbs but they
won't bear the weight of my body.

As for my hands, they
are no use to me now.

As a sculptor, I can't control them.
But they serve for ordinary functions.

-But you're beginning again?
-With the help of my pupils, yes.

I'm rebuilding my exhibition
from the ground up.

I'm going to give the
people what they want:

sensation, horror, shock.

Send them out in the streets
to tell their friends...

how wonderful it is to be scared to death.

I'll show you one of my subjects.

Do you recall the case of Kemmler, the
first man to die in the electric chair?

-Yes.
-Igor is working on a model of his head.

He has a strange obsession,
this mute of mine.

Every head he models takes
on the shape of his own face.

But in this case I humor him,
for he somewhat resembles Kemmler.

Crimes of violence will
be reproduced in wax...

and exhibited while they are
still fresh in the public mind.

What do you think of my scheme?

It will succeed, commercially,
though it doesn't sound like you.

-Have you turned your back on beauty?
-No.

But I can no longer create it.

-I never forgot your Marie Antoinette.
-Nor have I.

She will be the leading
lady of my new exhibition.

But I must find her first.

-Find her?
-A model, I mean.

Yes, there will be beauty,
for contrast, if nothing else.

But each subject must be taken from life.

How can I convince my audience they're
alive, if I don't believe it myself?

I have something I
think will interest you.

You follow Igor down into the basement.

I have to go my own way.

Here we are. Interesting, isn't it?

One of my pupils is about to
dip a body into a bath of wax.

-Body?
-Yes.

The bodies are constructed separately...

to exact specifications, of
reinforced plaster of Paris.

This is Leon, another one of my pupils.

-Mr. Wallace.
-How do you do?

The wax is melted in the
cauldron you see above the vat...

liquefied and brought
to a boiling point...

so that it will distribute
itself evenly over the body.

The head and hands, tinted
by my own secret process...

are attached to the body after it
is covered with its skin of wax.

Now watch.

I wondered how it was done.

It's a method of my
own. Crude but adequate.

-Have you found a home for your museum?
-This is it, the building upstairs.

We'll continue to use the
cellar as the workshop...

it's an excellent location, and the
building can be leased at the right price.

I have some capital, but I
need more. $30,000, at least.

That's why I've asked you to come here.

-I'll think it over.
-Good.

She is about right, now.

Leon, drain out the
surplus, and let her cool.

Leon, open up number 27.

Come this way, please.

I told you that I intend to
exhibit scenes of violence.

Here is an interesting subject.

A mystery they are still talking about.

All right, Leon.

I saw his picture in the papers.
This is a remarkable likeness.

-But it can't be a death mask.
-No, it's from memory.

He hanged himself in an elevator shaft.

Come in, ladies and gentlemen.
See the House of Wax.

See the Chamber of Horrors.

Here's three lovely
ladies right over here.

Would you like to see Little Egypt?

Here she is, ladies and gentlemen,
Little Egypt, Queen of the Harem...

who danced at the Colombian
Exposition in Chicago in 1893.

Is she wax, or is she flesh and blood?

See the world in wax, the Hall of Fame.

The Chamber Of Horrors.

A cultural exhibition that'll
enlighten you, amaze you...

-I think I could do that.
-No, you couldn't.

I could, too, if I took my stays off.

Don't do that. Don't talk that way.

Watch it, young lady.

Careful, sir. Keep your head
down or I'll tap you on the chin.

Look out.

That's a becoming hat you're wearing.

I wonder if I could clip a flower off it.
Hold steady, now. Don't move your head.

Or you'll lose the powder off your nose.

There is someone with a bag of popcorn.

Close your mouth, it's
the bag I'm aiming at.

Not your tonsil. Here she comes.

Look at that, it's in the bag.

See the lovely centers of ancient
times, ladies and gentlemen.

Beauties who died and
tortured out on the block.

Visit our Chamber of Horrors.

And pass the time of day
with notorious murderers...

who killed with the rope,
the knife, and the axe.

Thrills, chills, a lot of dirt for
a price within the reach of all.

I hope you don't think I've gone too far
hiring this fellow to bring people in.

-He makes it sound like a sideshow.
-Try him for a week or two.

Once we're established, we
won't need that sort of thing.

He looks like a real man.

You'd be surprised.

It's a real man. Sorry.

The historic figures I'm about to
show you will be more interesting...

when I tell you that their faces were
molded from the original death masks...

now in the possession of
certain European governments.

First, we have Anne Boleyn...

second wife of Henry the VIII,
and the mother of Queen Elizabeth.

With the executioner Henry
borrowed from the French king...

so that Anne's head would be cleaved
from her body without too much pain.

He was a thoughtful husband, Henry.

It was he who invented
the short cut to divorce.

A very bad pun, I'm afraid.

Here is another scene
of historic violence.

Charlotte Corday and Marat...

one of the leaders of
the French Revolution.

The lady found him taking a bath,
and plunged the knife into his heart.

-Quelle femme terrible!
-What a shocking thing.

Yes, wasn't it? The poor man
was dreadfully embarrassed.

The exhibits in this
room will be added to...

from time to time as
various crimes are committed.

You'll read about them
in your newspaper...

and see them enacted
here in waxen tableaux.

By the way, ladies...

this is how your ancestor carried
his bride across the threshold.

During the French Revolution...

a certain doctor invented
a labor-saving device...

to take the place of a headmen's ax.

So successful was this machine...

at cutting off the heads
of the French aristocrats...

they named it after its creator.

Here it is, the bloody guillotine.

I don't think I can stand it.

Pull yourself together.

Twelve years ago, the electric chair
was first used in New York state.

Here we have an authentic reproduction...

of the execution of William
Kemmler on August 3, in 1890.

Kemmler killed without mercy and
2,000 volts sent him to a higher court.

The torture of the rack. In this case...

Lady Anne Askew, an English
noblewoman accused of treason...

is being put to the question.

Needless to say, she
admitted she was a traitor.

Who wouldn't, under that sort of pressure?

-Is it your corset?
-It's my stomach. It turned over.

Mine turned over, too.

Now, my friends...

we have that jolly old gentleman
known as the modern Bluebeard.

Like his namesake, he killed
not wisely, but too well...

and did away with eight wives.

-Smelling salts, ladies? Help yourself.
-Thank you very much.

Next door to him, we have a
mystery of more recent date.

Matthew Burke, the stockbroker.

He was found hanged in the elevator shaft
of the building where he had his offices.

Was it murder or suicide?

Only time will tell.

"Foul deeds will rise, though all the
world o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes."

Thank you.

-You like him?
-He looks exactly like my Uncle Rufus.

They ought to have a policeman
like this in the Eden Mus�e.

-Haven't you been there?
-No.

From what I see in the papers,
this museum is even better.

We'll soon find out.

Meet my good friend, Mr. Sidney Wallace.

-Miss Sue Allen.
-A pleasure.

-I heard you were in town.
-You should have looked me up.

I expect great things of Scott. He's
one of our most promising sculptors.

-Has he been working hard?
-He never knows when to stop.

-Sue's been posing for me.
-Indeed, lovely subject.

She's not a professional
model. She's a guest.

Our mothers were great friends.

-Have you been inside?
-Is it exciting?

If anything, too much so.
But I'm sure it'll catch on.

Jarrod, the owner, is
a good friend of mine.

You'll be interested in
him. Let's go in, shall we?

-These figures are excellent.
-I thought you'd agree with me.

They're not only well done
but they're good theater.

-What do you think?
-I know they are only wax...

but they seem so real, just
looking at her makes my neck hurt.

Wait till you see the Chamber of Horrors.

I told Jarrod he should
have a nurse on duty there.

He lost the use of his hands.

-Who did these figures?
-His pupils, but he supervised the work.

-His is the mastermind.
-Surely knows his anatomy.

Sue, what is it?

-Are you crying?
-What's wrong, Miss Allen?

A dear friend of mine was
murdered and I found her.

She means Cathy Gray, the girl whose
body was stolen from the morgue.

What made you think of her now?

That's her face. I know every line of it.

I wake up at night and I see it.
I can't get it out of my mind.

Perhaps that's the reason
you see a resemblance.

-It's more than a resemblance.
-It's wax, my dear.

I know, but...

But why should it be so like Cathy?

I think I can explain that.

-This is a pleasure.
-You see, Miss Allen...

I heard what the young lady said.

The figure of Joan of Arc is a
traditional exhibit in wax museums.

It was completed just in
time for our opening tonight.

You're right, my dear. It is
more than a chance resemblance.

When I create an important
figure, I can't take just any face.

I saw pictures of your
Cathy Gray in the newspaper.

Her face fascinated me. And here she is.

Immortalized as the
victim of an earlier event.

-Do you really think she'd mind?
-No, I don't think she'd mind.

Cathy loved to "dress up" as she called
it. She used to take fancy dresses...

and imitate the actresses
she saw in the theater.

-I don't think she'd mind.
-Then I'm forgiven?

There's nothing to forgive.

I just don't understand
how it can seem so real.

That's the finest compliment I have
ever received. Thank you, my dear.

Did I hear your name
correctly, Scott Andrews?

-Yes, Mr. Jarrod.
-The sculptor I've been telling you about.

Sidney showed me photographs of your work.

He was right. You have great promise.

-What are you doing now?
-I'm doing a head of Miss Allen.

Let me see your hands.

Mine were once like that.

How I envy you.

Would you be interested in some modeling
for me, some originals I have in mind?

Yes. I'd be honored.

Good. Come here tomorrow morning,
we'll make the arrangements.

I think you'll like it.

I want you to look at this girl.

-With pleasure.
-Who does she remind you of?

I've been wondering about that.

I haven't known her
more than 10 minutes...

but there's something about her face...

That haunts you as the face of my
Marie Antoinette has haunted me.

Of course. I should have seen it at once.

A figure in wax. Mr.
Jarrod's greatest work.

More than wax. She lived.

-You mean I look like she did?
-Exactly as she did.

Once in his lifetime, every
artist feels the hand of God...

and creates something that comes alive.

So it was with my Marie
Antoinette. And I loved her.

But she is gone now. Horribly destroyed.

Perhaps you would help
me to bring her back.

You will come to see me? Soon?

I'd be glad to.

You'll be welcome at any
time, no matter what I'm doing.

-And you, Mr. Andrews, in the morning...
-I'll be here, very eager to begin.

It has been a very exciting day
for me and I'm a little tired.

So if you'll forgive
me, I'll say good night.

-Sidney, one moment, please.
-Excuse me, I'll be right back.

Forget about it. You
heard what Mr. Jarrod said.

Cathy's face was inspiration.
It's a portrait in wax.

Why should it seem so real?

I hate to drag you away.

That's fine. I'm going to work
here. We'll see it all another time.

Yes, another time.

Still time to see the entire
exhibition, ladies and gentlemen.

Get your tickets from the fine little
lady in the box office and go right in.

See the world in wax
and improve your mind.

See the Chamber of Horrors and scare
yourself out of a year's growth.

Not again.

What happened? Why did you scream?

I saw Cathy again.

And the man who killed her
was right here in this room.

I must have been dreaming.

Of course you were, dear.

A lager for the gentleman.

Sarsaparilla for the lady.

-And two knockwurst on rye.
-Thank you.

-Enjoying yourself?
-It's exciting.

-Do nice people come here?
-Of course.

-These Sunday matinees are very popular.
-I don't know.

It doesn't seem proper, all
those girls showing their talents.

You never saw a show
like this in Provincetown?

Don't worry, your reputation is
safe. You've been worrying too much...

about wax figures and seeing
monsters in your dreams.

You need something like this
to bring you back to normalcy.

Prosit!

Remember Mr. Jarrod said he first
saw Cathy's picture in the newspaper.

Yes. What's wrong with that?

I knew her so well.

I knew every little expression
and they are all there.

They would be. The man's an artist.

There's something else I
saw that night in the museum.

Cathy had a habit of wearing
an earring in her right ear.

She had the lobe of her right
ear only pierced for that.

But that's there, too. How could
he see that in a photograph?

-How can he make it so real unless...
-What?

Unless it is Cathy.

I'm going to take you to Lt.
Brennan's office tomorrow.

Tell him exactly what you told me
here. He's a policeman, he knows.

He'll convince you once and for
all that no such thing could happen.

Now relax, honey, and enjoy the show.

I know it sounds fantastic, but
you asked me to tell you everything.

You can see this idea is an obsession,
an unhealthy one, if you ask me.

-You say Jarrod is a cripple?
-He uses a wheelchair.

He can walk with crutches,
but not very well.

Such a man came and asked to see
police photographs of Cathy Gray.

That's how it's done. Every detail is
studied to make the features true to life.

But why should Joan of Arc
have her right ear pierced?

-Why not? They wore them then.
-Two, not one.

Lieutenant, it's not a suspicion.
It's more a kind of fear, an intuition.

Intuition isn't much help in
police work. Facts are what we need.

Suppose you forget about it,
and let us do the worrying.

You mean you'll investigate it?

-Of course he does.
-Yes, that's what I mean.

-You both think I'm crazy.
-We think nothing of the kind.

It was very good of you to listen
and be so patient. Thank you.

-Goodbye.
-Goodbye.

Thanks.

This is Brennan speaking. Give me Shane.

Hello. I want you to go to
the City License Bureau...

and check up on a man named Henry Jarrod.

Yes, he opened a museum on
29th Street, near Broadway.

Yes, The House of Wax.

Dig up all you can. Get a list of
his employees and check with me here.

That's a copy of her face, all right.

But she didn't look
like that when I saw her.

-Not so composed.
-Poor kid.

You know, this fellow Jarrod's good.

-You think Miss Allen's fears are
justified? -Heck, no. Do you?

That's wax, how could it be anything else?

Leave it to a skirt to dream
up a crazy idea like that.

So you did you come to see
me, my Marie Antoinette?

Or was it that you came to see?

Mr. Jarrod, I'm so sorry. I know I'm
not supposed to touch the figures.

You couldn't help yourself.
Don't let it trouble you.

I beg your pardon, this
is Leon Averill and Igor.

-How do you do?
-Igor isn't impolite. He simply can't talk.

Leon is an artist in his own right.

It was he who did the waxwork
on the figure of Joan of Arc.

-Does she still seem real to you?
-As life itself.

Of course, her hair is different,
but that doesn't change her face.

What puzzles me is how you can
get such detail from a photo.

Was Cathy wearing her earrings
when the police photographed her?

Earrings? I don't remember. Was she, Leon?

No. I don't think so.

The police would remove the jewelry
from the body, wouldn't they?

Yet you were careful to show that both
her ears had been pierced for them.

Yes, of course.

If I missed a detail of that sort,
Mr. Jarrod would be most displeased.

He insists on reality.

I can understand that.

Just a moment, Leon.

There's something in this box I think
would interest you. Open it, Leon.

Your Mr. Andrews permitted us to
make a cast of the head he did of you.

Leon has just finished
it in wax. Do you like it?

It's sort of a shock to see
your head detached that way.

-I guess it's a very good likeness.
-Yes, and no.

Andrews is clever, but
like all modern sculptors...

he has too much imagination.
He would improve on nature.

What I need for my
Marie Antoinette is you.

The real you.

Nothing less will satisfy me.

Will you come to see me again, my dear?

You know this fellow Jarrod's quicker
at finding these guys than we are?

That's what he says in his advertising.

Look at that. Even the twist in the neck.

That's a case that gets me.
Where is Burke? Who got him?

-Who'd want him?
-We better find out pretty quick.

-Did you read the blast in today's World?
-Yeah, it's dynamite.

The Chief had me in
his office this morning.

If I'm not careful, I'll be
pounding a beat in the Bronx.

Come here, Jim.

Do you remember Patterson, the
Deputy City Attorney who disappeared?

Sure.

Does Booth look like
Wilbur, or am I crazy?

He does a tad with the brush off his lip.

The hair is different, of course,
but the features are like Patterson's.

Maybe he looked like Booth. I've seen
dummies that look like people I know.

The caveman is a spitting
image of the new Commissioner.

Please. Don't touch the exhibits.

-Can't you read the sign?
-I'm sorry.

Look, where'd you get the face
for this guy that shot Lincoln?

-From photographs.
-They take them at that time?

If you go to the City Library...

you'll find the volume of Mathew Brady's
photos taken during the Civil War.

-Do you work here?
-Yeah.

-You make these things?
-Some of them.

What's your name?

Leon Averill. What's yours?

Jim Shane. I'm an engineer on the 9th
Avenue El. It was nice meeting you.

You know me. I'm no good at
names, but I don't forget faces.

If I can take the muff off of that
one I might be able to place it.

It was a long time ago.

Mr. Wallace, I'm Lt. Brennan. Sgt. Shane.

-Glad to know you.
-Won't you sit down?

-Sorry I kept you waiting.
-That's all right.

This is the first time I've been
asked to come to Police Headquarters.

What am I suspected of?

Nothing. We thought perhaps
you might be able to help us.

We heard that your partner is
the same Professor Jarrod...

whose museum on 24th Street
burned down some time ago.

That's true.

This Professor Jarrod was supposed
to have been killed in the fire.

-Apparently, a slight mistake.
-You suspect him of some criminal act?

-We haven't a thing on him.
-We're curious.

So is the insurance company.

What do you know about his employees?

-There's Scott Andrews, a prot�g� of mine.
-Yes, we know of him.

Then there's Igor, deaf-mute, and
Leon Averill, who does the wax work.

Averill's an odd character.
Periodical drunkard, but a fine artist.

I've seen some of his sketches. One
of the Savior with his disciples.

Beautiful work.

-I'm afraid I haven't been much help.
-You never can tell. Thank you.

-Please don't mention this to your partner.
-I won't.

You know, I gamble on Jarrod.

He's strange, unpredictable, but
I think he's a man of integrity.

-I'm sure of it. Thank you very much.
-Not at all. Good day, gentlemen.

Remember I told you I knew
the man with the whiskers?

Do you remember that artist in Sing Sing
who painted The Last Supper on his cell?

Hendricks. They called him a
genius and gave him a parole.

But when they turned him
loose, he became a drunk.

He broke parole a year ago. We've
had him on the wanted list since.

-Carl Hendricks?
-That's him. Alias, Leon Averill.

-Bring him in.
-Can do.

A little more bitterness
in that face, my boy.

Remember, this fellow has
been badly used by the world...

and he despises all the people in it.

Deepen those lines around
the corner of the mouth.

Not too much.

There. That's better.

What I wouldn't give to
have those fingers of yours.

-Thank you, Mr. Jarrod. -I'm sorry
I kept you so late tonight, Scott.

That's all right. Miss
Allen is meeting me here.

It's her birthday. We're
going to celebrate at Chiles'.

Charming creature.

I was worried. The shock of finding that
murdered girl gave her strange ideas.

I know.

I took her to Lt.
Brennan, he set her right.

That's very good now. Excellent.

Before you go, would you mind
running over to Metzgers for me?

-Metzgers?
-Where they make the artificial flowers.

They're doing a background for
this new group. Take a look at it.

You know what I want. Advise
them on the color scheme.

I'd go myself, but it's so
hard for me to get about.

I know. I'll be glad to
do it. I'll go right now.

Thank you very much.

I followed him through his bender.

Sometimes, he gets the shakes so bad,
you expect to see his teeth fall off.

-Is this all he had on him?
-Yes.

No money?

Gold.

"To Wilbur Patterson...

"With affection and admiration.

"City Attorney's Office.
December 25, 1900."

Where did you get this?

-I found it.
-Where?

-On the El.
-What line?

-Third Avenue, downtown.
-When?

I don't remember, it was months ago.

-Book him on suspicion of murder.
-No. I found that.

I never knew the man who
owned it. I never saw him.

Lock him up.

Please don't put me in a cell. I'm sick.

Can't you see my nerves are all shattered?

Look, please give me one little...

Can I have one little drink...

You're not going to get anything until
you tell us where you got this watch.

-Take him out.
-Let's go.

You shouldn't have done that, my dear.

It is Cathy.

It's Cathy's body under the wax.

I knew it. I knew it all the time.

Everything I ever loved
has been taken away from me.

Not you, my Marie Antoinette,
for I will give you eternal life.

This is where I recreated my Joan
of Arc. It's an interesting process.

If you have patience with me, my
dear, I'll show you how it's done.

I can't stand it.

All right.

All right, I'll tell you what I know.

Patterson was killed
because he looked like Booth.

-You killed him.
-No, not I. Jarrod, at the waxworks.

His hands were no good. He
had to take subjects from life.

-You helped him?
-No, they were already dead.

What about Burke?

He's there, too. In wax.

He was the one who set
fire to the old museum.

Jarrod came out of it alive, but insane.

-Cathy Gray?
-Joan of Arc. That's Cathy.

She's there with all the rest of
them. The whole place is a morgue.

He'll do the same to Sue Allen,
if he gets his hands on her.

You've got to stop him before
he does any more killing.

That look of horror
spoils your lovely face.

What if it should show,
even through the wax?

Are you in there?

Where's Sue?

Where is she?

The end will come quickly, my love.

There's a pain beyond
pain, an agony so intense...

it shocks the mind into instant oblivion.

We'll find immortality together...

for they'll remember me through you.

Where's Jarrod?

Andrews, where's Jarrod?

In the cellar. He's got Sue.

Take care of him.

The People's Exhibit Number One.

You almost lost your head. Would
you care to keep that one as a spare?

No, thank you.

We'll never forget you and your men.
Thanks to you, we're still alive.

But every time I shave, I can
still feel that guillotine blade.

-Please, let's not talk about it anymore.
-Yes, you're right.

Mr. Brennan, thank you
for the use of your coat.

-That was nothing.
-It meant a lot to me.

When I found you weren't
dressed too warmly...

I didn't want you to catch a cold.

Goodbye, Mr. Brennan,
and thanks for everything.

-Bless you, Mr. Shane.
-Thank you, Miss Allen.

By the time this guy
gets out of Sing Sing...

this head will grow a long beard.

English