All language subtitles for The Norliss Tapes (1973)

[clock ticking]

[clock ticking]

Good morning, Mr. Evans.

Monday morning
is never good.

Anything important?

David Norliss
on three.

Ah.

Hello, David.
Been a while.

How's the book coming?

Sanford, I've gotta
talk to you.

I know,
you're gonna tell me it's only half-written,

and we're gonna
have to delay our--

Half-written, hell.
I don't have a word on paper.

It's been
almost a year.

I know how long
it's been, Sanford.

But I, uh...

I can't write it.

I'm afraid to write it.

You're not making sense.

We gave you
a sizeable advance

to write a book
debunking the supernatural,

which was your idea,
not ours.

And now you tell me,
a year later,

you haven't
even started it.

I'm into the book.

Deep into it.

But, uh...

it's on...on tapes.

A series of tapes.
When you hear them, you'll understand.

What will I understand?

How far I've gone.

How dangerous
this whole thing is.

Sanford, I have to
talk to you.

David, you sound
very strange.

Are you all right?

David, are you all right?

Yeah.

Okay. Okay, what about
The Canellia Room for lunch tomorrow?

That's no good.
I have to see you now.

It's Monday, Dave.
You know what Mondays are like.

Why not tomorrow?

Tomorrow might be too late.

Do you wish
to order now, sir?

No, just
bring me a phone.

[phone rings]

[phone rings]

[phone rings]

[phone rings]

[phone rings]

[phone rings]

That was a week ago.

He never showed for lunch,
never phoned to explain why,

and I haven't been able
to contact him since.

Sanford, you should
be used to eccentric writers by now.

And, in my opinion,
David Norliss

is just a bit
more eccentric than most.

Man, I'll never
get over this view.

There is something wrong.

I wish you'd
check this thing out, find out where he is.

Sanford, I'm his lawyer,
not his nursemaid.

Please.

All right,
I'll look into it.

I still say
you're making too much of a broken lunch date.

Sanford! Sanford!

Oh, good.
I was hoping I'd see you.

Yeah, glad I ran into you.

Have you got time
to catch the cable with me?

Where are you going?

I'm going
up to the club.

All right, fine.
We'll have a drink.

Good. Yeah.

I, uh, have been
terribly worried.

I tried to
phone you earlier.

Well, I was in
a publisher's meeting.

Tied up the whole
bloody afternoon.

Sanford, I'm sorry
I didn't take you very seriously

in the meeting
the other day.

Well?

I just thought
you were making much too much of it.

I hope you have
something.

What'd you find out?

Nobody knows where David is.
Nobody's seen him.

He's just...gone.

Are you sure?

We checked every
possible source,

everything conceivable.

It seems
incredible to me.

David?

[David]
Notes for introduction.

Today is Thursday,
September 25,

and I might as well
get started with this thing,

get the book rolling
with what I've got so far.

God knows, it isn't
taking the direction I assumed it would.

This whole thing began
when my natural writer's curiosity

was aroused
by an article I had read in a weekly periodical.

The article was concerned
with the commercial aspects

of spiritualism
and the occult.

My original idea
was to expose the phonies

who are bilking
millions of dollars each year

out of their
gullible victims,

to go after
the fake mediums, phony astrologers,

the self-proclaimed seers
and trick mystics.

I was successful
at this for some time.

The floating face,
which was a dummy's head on a wire,

the ghost
of a woman's son

who turned out to be
the medium's own kid in a weird get-up.

The fortune teller
who's life images in a crystal ball

were supplied
by a hidden film projector.

But then I got into
this business with Ellen Cort.

I had better
try to get this down exactly the way it happened.

Ellen Sterns Cort
was recently widowed.

Her late husband,
James Raymond Cort,

was a successful sculptor
from a well-to-do family.

He worked from a studio
on the grounds of his estate in Carmel.

When he married,
he brought Ellen there to live.

The night before
she came to see me,

she'd undergone
a very bizarre and frightening experience.

Shortly after midnight,
she was awakened from a sound sleep

by the barking
of her dog, Rollie.

[dog barking]

What is it, Rollie?

What's the matter, boy?
Is somebody out there?

[dog barking]

Show me.

Okay, show me what you want.

Okay. Easy.
Easy, boy. Easy.

[growling]

The following night,
Mrs. Cort came to see me.

Actually, her sister,
Marsha Sterns,

an acquaintance of mine,
had set up the meeting.

Marsha knew about
my work in the supernatural.

When Ellen called her
about the incident,

Marsha had Ellen contact me.

And the police
found only the body of my dog Rollie,

his next snapped,
ribs broken.

They analyzed
the blood stains on the floor,

and they were his.
All his.

Are you sure
you hit the man

when you
fired the shotgun?

I'm telling you,
I hit him.

Well, think about it.
You were upset, you saw your dog killed.

You could've missed.

I've handled
guns before.

He was right
in front of me

in my direct
line of fire.

The charges hit him,
smashed him backwards,

and that's when I ran.

But when
the police arrived,

there wasn't
a trace of him.

No, he was gone.

And when I told them
who it was,

they wouldn't
believe me.

Now, that's why
I've come to you.

Mrs. Cort, why wouldn't
the police believe you?

Because the man I shot
was already dead.

It was Jim.

My dead husband,
James Cort.

Ellen Cort seemed convinced
that she had encountered

the risen form of her
recently entombed husband.

I asked her to
describe the circumstances surrounding Cort's death.

Jim had been
feeling very bad.

We didn't know why,
and our family doctor

suggested that he undergo
a series of tests at the Frasier Clinic.

That's when
we discovered he was suffering

from a terminal
disease of the brain called Pick's Disease.

I've heard of it.

There's no cure,
there's no treatment,

and he-- I don't know,

Jim just seemed to
change almost overnight.

He was confined
to a wheelchair, would no longer work.

He even had me
board up his studio.

He wouldn't even
talk about his work.

Was he at all involved
with the supernatural?

Yes, he was.

And it started
just before his death.

Tell me about that.

I'd arranged an exhibit
of Jim's sculptures

at the Langdon Gallery,

and he met a woman there
named Madame Jeckiel.

She owns an antique shop
here in San Francisco,

and part of her business
involves the occult.

In what way?

She deals with objects

that are supposed to
have occult power.

She even claims
to cure the sick, and Jim believed her.

Hmm. No doubt asking for
a lot of money, too.

No. No, she didn't.

As far as I know,
Jim never gave her a penny.

Not even for that ring.

What ring?

An Egyptian scarab.

Something to do
with the god Osiris.

Osiris is
an Egyptian god

involved with
the doctrine of immortality.

Yes. The ring was
part of an agreement he made with her.

You use the word agreement.

What kind of agreement
did they have?

I wish I could tell you.
I can't.

All I know is Jim
accepted that ring

in return for
some kind of promise.

He refused to discuss it.

Where's the ring now?

Do you know
where it is?

Yes.

It's in his coffin.

His coffin?

Jim even specified
that he was to be buried with that ring,

that it be
kept on his hand.

And his body
is in the crypt

on the grounds
of the estate?

That's where
his body should be,

but after
what I saw last night,

I don't know anymore.

The next afternoon,
I had lunch with Marsha,

who was taking
a flight to New York.

She was quite worried
about her sister.

You know I'm not
easy to panic.

And when Ellen phoned me,
I knew she was desperate.

I suggested
she talk to you.

Actually, we haven't
been close for over 3 years

since she married
that James Cort.

Why, didn't you
get along with Cort?

No, I didn't.

And when Ellen married him,
it affected our relationship.

We just haven't seen
very much of each other.

And now,
when she really needs me, I can't be here.

How long do you
have to be in New York?

Well, only a few days,

but I felt that
we should talk before I left.

It's important.

If she says that
she saw James alive,

Well, then, somehow--
Marsha.

If I didn't believe
she was telling me the truth,

and she knows it,
I wouldn't be here.

I know, but it's just
all so fantastic.

I mean, how could
such a thing be possible?

I don't know,

but we're certainly
going to try to find out.

However, before I was able
to contact Ellen again,

another bizarre
incident occurred.

That night in Carmel,
a salesgirl was closing her shop for the day.

Millie Parks.
Pretty, blond, in her early twenties,

was tired after
a full day's work.

She was anxious
to close up, get into her car,

and drive
the six miles to her home,

a small one-story beach house
on the ocean near Big Sur.

[cat howls]

[screams]

[Truck Driver]
Just my luck, you know.

I'm running late,
trying to make Frisco by 3:00,

and this happens.

I never would've seen it.

I was so tired,
I was almost asleep at the wheel.

If that other rig
hadn't come along in the opposite direction

and given me a blast,
I might never have seen it.

It's unbelievable.

[Truck Driver]
Sheriff, huh?

I suppose he'll wanna
talk to me about it.

All right.

Get a blanket
over that fast.

Hey, come here.
I wanna talk to you over here.

Gene, Mike,
get these spectators out of here.

Come here.
Is that the way you found her?

Yeah, but I ain't
seen nobody ever look like that

after no
car crash, Sheriff. She was, like--

Never mind
what she was.

You just keep shut
on that part of it.

Anybody asks you,
you just found her dead in the car.

Sheriff, nobody
looks like that after--

I just got through
telling you

I don't want any more
talk about this at all.

Now is that clear?

Yeah, it's clear,
but let me ask you something.

How am I gonna forget
the color of that face?

Help him get on his way,
will ya? Charlie?

Charlie?

I'm putting
the lid on this one.

Nobody talks to anybody
about the condition of the deceased.

Give me your mic.

This is Sheriff Hartley.
We have a 946.

Let me talk to the coroner.

Now, you know
where I am if you need me.

Sid.

Ah, can't you ever
be on time?

What've you been
so sour about?

What do you think?

You know, every time
I manage to steal an afternoon,

up come
the rain clouds.

Don't know what
you're crying about. Doesn't look so bad to me.

Well, if I came
from Chicago,

it wouldn't look
so bad to me, either.

Hey, what about
the autopsy report?

I didn't get it yet.
Oh, might be ready now.

Why don't I call
the office and find out?

It's gonna take
a couple of minutes.

Why don't
you go get changed?

Unless you wanna
play in those.

Aren't you funny.
I'll meet you on the first tee.

What'd you get, Sid?

Extraordinary case.

I've never
heard of anything like this in my life.

Even when I was
a lab assistant in Chicago, we never--

Never mind Chicago.
What about this girl?

The cause of death
was strangulation,

but from the depth
of the indentation marks in her neck,

it seems that the murderer
must have possessed exceptional strength.

Okay, I know
she was strangled.

What I wanna find out
is what else was done to her.

All right. That's
the extraordinary part.

The sallow skin cast
and the collapsed sack-like appearance of the body

was a direct result
of a total evacuation of all the main arteries.

Oh, Sid, I don't--

All right,
I'll make it simple for you.

The girl's body
was totally drained of blood.

It was-- [sighs]

Look, I don't want
the media to get a hold of this.

That's all I need,
a bunch of newspaper men crawling up my back.

Now, I can see
the headlines now.

"Vampire Killer
Loose In Monterey."

What can you
do for me?

I'll do the best I can,
but I can't guarantee anything.

You know that
I have to file a report.

I cannot
falsify the report. You know that.

You know damn well
I don't want you

to do anything
like that.

All I want
kept under wraps

is the condition
of the corpse,

not the fact that
she was murdered.

Look, I gotta have time
to work this thing out.

Okay, I understand.

I'll try and keep it
under wraps for you.

Okay. That's
one favor I owe you.

From the looks of that,
I'm gonna have to take two shots a side.

Sid, now, you know
the only people

who give shots
are doctors.

Tee it up.

The morning I drove down
from San Francisco, the weather was foul.

A curtain of cold rain
fell from a gunmetal gray sky.

I'd set up a meeting
with Sheriff Hartley in Carmel

to discuss
the Ellen Cort situation.

I didn't expect
much cooperation from him,

but it was worth a try,
a way to begin.

When I pulled up
in front of Hartley's office,

the sky had
begun to clear

and the sun
was breaking through.

I hoped it was a good omen.

Mr. Norliss, at the risk
of seeming inhospitable,

I just don't understand
why any of this

would interest a man
who spends his time, uh...

[chuckles]

...chasing ghosts.

I'm sure
you find this all very amusing, Sheriff.

Mrs. Cort swears
her husband is alive.

She asked me
to help her, I agreed to.

What do you
want from me?

Any information
that ties in

with the man she shot
in her husband's studio.

Shot at. It's plain
she missed him.

Nobody can take
a shotgun charge and keep walking.

Look, she saw an intruder,
she went panicky.

It could've been anybody,

some bum looking
to spend the night indoors.

It gets cold out here
in these woods at night.

Now, I'll bet you
that right now your "ghost"

has hopped a freight
and is halfway to Chicago.

As for information,
I don't have any to give.

What about that girl
who was murdered in her car the other night?

The late Millie Parks.

Well, what about it?

Well, I stopped in town
before I came here,

and I heard a few people
talking about it.

Well, it's like they say,

read all about it
in your daily newspaper.

I have.

Somebody hid in the car,
strangled her, the car hit a tree.

And that's
all there is to it.

Mm-hmm. Are you sure
that's all there is to it?

Mr. Norliss,
now are you saying

there's some connection
between that dead girl and Mrs. Cort's ghost?

I'm not saying anything,
I'm just asking questions.

That's what
I get paid for.

And I'll handle it,
if it's all right with you, Mr. Norliss.

Sure, Sheriff,
it's all right with me.

It just seems that
there are a lot of nervous people in town.

I think they saw
a lot more than they're willing to talk about.

Like I said...

That's police business.

Okay. Thanks for
the information.

Think maybe
he's on to something?

On to what?

Now, there's
a very simple explanation to this whole thing.

All we've gotta do
is find it.

I hope so, Tom.
I sure hope so.

Oh.

As I headed
for the Cort estate along the 17-mile drive,

acres of lush cypress
and tall pine loomed over me.

The ocean below
bellowed and roared,

smashing into
the coastline,

spilling white foam
along the sand.

There's no doubt
this rugged peninsula country

could give
the French Riviera tough competition.

But on this afternoon,
my mind really wasn't on the scenery.

I kept thinking
about the girl

who had been murdered
the night before,

trying to tie
what I knew about her

into the story
Ellen had told me.

I had a gut hunch
the two were connected.

How, I didn't know,

but I was going
to have to try and find out.

Hello, Mrs. Cort.

I really do
appreciate your coming.

It's really
a beautiful place.

It was,
but it isn't anymore.

Not for me.

I let the servants go
after Jim's death.

Now I'm trying
to sell the estate.

Would you
like some coffee?

Sure.

You mean to tell me
you're out here all alone?

I had Mrs. Harrison
with me until today.

She'd been with
the family for years,

so I kept her on
to look after the place,

but that girl's murder
frightened her.

She turned in
her notice this morning.

Said she wouldn't stay
this far out of town after dark.

Well, she makes sense.

I think it'd be
a good idea

if you went back
into town with me tonight

and stayed at the inn.

Well, I guess
maybe you're right.

I didn't sleep
a wink last night.

Every time
the house creaked, my skin scrawled.

I kept imagining
I heard noises from the woods.

Think we could take a look
at your husband's studio?

Sure. I'll get the keys.

You say the dog led you
in this direction?

Yes, I practically
had to run to keep up with him.

What time did he
wake you up?

Just after midnight.

There it is, over there.

Jim loved this place.

Used to be a barn before
he converted it into a studio.

From what the people
in town tell me,

your husband was
something of a recluse.

Well, I suppose that's true,
but he liked being alone.

After we were married,
I had a studio set up in the main house,

but he never used it.

He'd always
come out here to work.

Called it
his personal hideaway.

Is this from the dog?

Yes. All of it.

He killed Rollie
as easily as you'd smash a fly,

and he was
a German Shepherd,

a very powerful animal.

And you say you had to
unlock the door to get in.

That's right.

The only question is
how did he get inside?

Is this the corner
he came from?

Yes.

He was standing
right here.

I'll never
forget his eyes.

They were horrible,
wild, and staring at me.

How long has it been
since you've been out here?

I haven't been here
since Jim died.

Now you don't
believe me, do you?

What do you believe?

I don't know.

[Ellen]
But I'm still confused about the ring.

It must be worth
a great deal of money.

[David]
Why do you say that?

Because Charles Langdon
phoned me yesterday regarding the purchase

of all
the studio sculptures.

When he
mentioned the ring,

I told him
it wasn't for sale.

Well, what did he say?

He became quite upset.

And that's
when I hung up.

Maybe I should
have a talk with Langdon.

Look, while
I'm in San Francisco, do me a favor.

Find out all you can
about that murder the other night.

There's something
about that girl's death they're trying to hide.

Well, then you think
there's a connection

between what
happened to me and the Parks girl?

I don't know.
That's what I'm gonna find out.

I'll call you tonight.

Hello.

May I be of
some assistance?

Yes, you might.

You tell Mr. Langdon
that David Norliss is here to see him.

If you'll be so kind
as to follow me.

Mr. Langdon,
a Mr. Norliss to see you.

May I help you?

Uh, David Norliss.

Oh, I know you.

I enjoyed one of
your books very much.

Really? Which one?

I have a terrible
memory for titles.

It dealt
with undersea life,

and I believe it was
off the coast of Yugoslavia?

The Man Below.
I'm glad you liked it.

I did.

You're the only one
who read it.

Come, may I show you
something here?

No, thank you.
I would like to ask you some questions.

Regarding your association
with James Raymond Cort.

Oh?

You see, I'm looking into
his death.

Looking into?
In what capacity?

As a private investigator
working for Mrs. Cort.

Well, I'd be glad
to help Ellen,

but, I mean,
it seems a little bit on the bizarre side.

There was nothing
of a mysterious nature about James' death.

Well, then you won't mind
answering a few questions, will you?

Fire ahead.

How well
did you know him?

Oh, we were
closely associated.

You see, our gallery
is the main outlet

for James' work here
in San Francisco for the past several years.

I've placed a great number
of his works with collectors,

and I've arranged for
a few special commissions, things of that sort.

Hmm? How much
do you know about the occult, Mr. Langdon?

Very little, actually.
Doesn't interest me at all.

Hmm. That's interesting
because Mrs. Cort was saying--

Uh, could we
talk upstairs?

Sure.

Please.

You see, I somehow
got the impression

that you were responsible
for Mr. Cort's fascination with the supernatural.

No, it was simply
a manifestation of his disease.

You do know
Madame Jeckiel, don't you?

In a business sense.

I frequently
send people to her shop.

She has excellent tastes.

Accepts some
really splendid items from time to time.

Hmm. See, I was told
that he met her here in your gallery.

Yes, we had James'
last exhibition.

I introduced them,
as a matter of fact,

though, frankly,
I wish I hadn't.

His obsession
with the supernatural began with Madame Jeckiel.

What about that ring
he got from her?

You know anything
about that?

Apparently, it's from Egypt.
It's very ancient.

Known to collectors
of antique jewelry as the Osiris Scarab.

Valuable.

It's true value
is difficult to determine.

The beetle, as you know,
is the symbol of immortality.

There are rumors that
the Osiris Scarab is a life ring,

capable of granting
restorative powers to its wearer.

You believe that?

Hardly. Myth and nonsense.

Why do you want
the ring so badly?

Apparently, Ellen
told you of my interest.

Obviously.

I deal in antique art
and objects, Mr. Norliss.

This ring is such an object.

It has a fascination
for those of us who are connoisseurs,

so, certainly, I should like
to own the Osiris Scarab.

Well, Mrs. Cort told me
that you demanded to know

why the ring
wasn't for sale.

Well, naturally,
I was disappointed,

and I vented
my disappointment over the telephone.

It was purely
an emotion of the moment.

So she didn't tell you
why she wouldn't sell the ring

or where it is?

No, she did not.

Do you know where it is?

Mm-hmm.

You see, Mr. Cort's will
declared that the ring

should be buried with him.

It's now on his finger
in the family crypt.

How curious.
How very curious.

[quiet footsteps]

[screaming]

I had a private agreement
with Mr. Cort.

Now, it's no business
of yours or anybody else's.

I keep
private business private.

Madame Jeckiel,
Mrs. Cort thinks her husband is alive.

As a matter of fact,
she thinks she saw him.

In the studio?

Well, now, isn't
that interesting?

How did you know
where she saw him?

Jim always loved
being in the studio,

and his presence
might linger there.

Oh, come on!
This was no presence. This was a real man.

Real enough
to kill a dog

and take a double
shotgun blast in the chest.

Why are you telling me this?

Look, this has
nothing to do with me.

Well, I think it has
a lot to do with you.

And the ring
you gave to Cort.

All part of a puzzle,
and I'd thought you'd help me

put the pieces together.

There's nothing
I can say.

What about the studio?

I think
you know something about the studio,

and it's linked
with the ring.

Look, I'm gonna
tell you something.

You stay away
from that place.

Stay away from
the whole Cort estate.

Why?

It's the House of Sargoth.

[phone rings]

Hello?

Ellen, it's David.
How are you?

Okay, but it
sure is raining here.

Listen, I think
I'm on to something.

I saw Madame Jeckiel.

She wasn't too talkative,
but she did make a slip

in reference
to James' studio.

I think this whole thing
ties in to the studio.

I'm gonna be down there
in about an hour.

I'll pick you up at 11:30.

Well, where are we going?

Back to the studio.
Now, you're familiar with it, and I'm not.

I wouldn't know
what to look for,

but I'm convinced
something is there.

Will you go with me?

I'll be ready.
Okay.

It's almost midnight.
I was worried.

I thought something
might have happened to you.

The storm slowed me down.
I was in a lot of heavy traffic.

What do you expect
to find at the studio?

I don't know,
I'm not sure.

Did you find
anything out about the Parks girl?

Only that there seemed
to be something strange about the body.

Like what?

Like she had no blood.

Through here.

I hate to
put you through this.

I'd rather
have done it alone.

No, I'm glad I can help.

Anyway, I was
going stir crazy waiting back at the inn.

I wish I knew
what to look for.

Anything odd or abnormal.

What's this?

I don't know.
I've never seen it before.

Wasn't here the other day.

I know.

You sure
he didn't start this just before he died?

No, this isn't his.

It's not like his work.

Look at the face.

And this clay.

What about it?

It's still damp.

Someone's still working
on this thing.

But that's impossible.
How could that be?

[growling and screaming]

[Ellen screams]

Here he comes!

[no audible dialogue]

[David]
Thank you.

Okay. Mrs. Cort.

Mr. Norliss,
you know, it's 2:00 in the morning.

Have you
been drinking?

Look, I'm not
gonna argue with you.

I saw Cort.

He was as close to me
as you are.

Another one
of your ghosts?

A ghost doesn't
rip up a car door.

Take a look
out the window.

He did that?

He did that.

Mrs. Cort,
are you all right?

All right, let's go.

Get 'am around
in the back, there, would ya?

All right, listen.
Check this over here.

We're still trying
to find a body.

He says he hit one,
and we can't find it.

Get on,
get over there.

It seems to me
that you must've just grazed him with a fender.

I'm telling you,
I hit him head on.

All right. Frank, Jim,
search the main house.

The rest of you,
check the studio and all the grounds.

You come with me.

Where?

I'm gonna see if Mr. Cort
is at home to friends.

Come on with it.
Let's go.

Someone's taken the body.

Did you hear what I said?
That's all there is to it.

Somebody's taken the body.

Look, Hartley,
what more do you need?

Now, you look,
Mr. Norliss.

I just don't buy
your zombie story.

As far as I'm concerned,
we've got a prowler that looks like Mr. Cort

who assaulted you people
when you caught him doing his job.

Mrs. Cort saw him--

Now, for his own reasons,

he removed Mr. Cort's body.

I'm still
in the dark as to why,

but maybe it's to just
follow up the disguise.

Explain the
abnormal strength.

You think I pulled
the door off the car?

I don't try
to explain anything.

If I did, I would say
that you snagged the open car door

on the garage
in your hurry to get out.

Now, look.
When people panic, they do funny things.

What're you gonna do
about all of this?

Assuming that we don't
find the prowler on the grounds,

and I agree,
that's very unlikely,

then I'll have
the woods searched.

In the meantime,
it's late, and I'm tired.

I'm gonna take
Mrs. Cort back to town.

You follow us.

When you get there,
you can sign a complaint.

Let's give up
on this wild goose chase.

[phone rings]

Who is this?

It's David.
Are you all right?

I suppose so.
They gave me a sedative.

What time is it?

It's afternoon. 2:00.

Where are you?

I'm at home.

Been trying to reach
Charles Langdon.

Has he called you?

No. No one's called.

That sheriff still
won't believe me.

Thinks we're both crazy.

Did you show him
the sculpture we found?

No, no.

I don't want anyone
touching that thing

until I can determine
what it is, what it means.

I'm having the clay
analyzed right now.

Sheriff Hartley wants me to

make a full statement
at his office this afternoon.

What-- what should I tell him?

Tell him the truth.

Just leave out the sculpture.

David?

David, I'm still
very frightened.

He's out there. Alive.

And you and I know
he's out there.

Why won't the sheriff
believe us?

Hey, what's it gonna take
to make him believe us?

[Corliss] That night,
Ellen's sister Marsha

drove down from
San Francisco.

She'd returned from her
trip to New York

earlier than expected.

And unfortunately,

when she tried to reach me,

I was out.

It was after midnight
when she pulled into

the deserted Cort estate.

And when she found
no one there,

she was already too tired

to make the half-hour
drive to Carmel.

And since another
storm was building,

Marsha decided to seek
closer lodgings.

By the time she's arrived
at the Orange Grove Motel,

a small, off-the-road
scattering of faded cabins,

the storm had broken,

and the rain
had begun to fall.

[thunder]

[knocking on door]

We're closed.

Please! Let me come in!

We're closed
for the night!

Please! I need a room!
Go away!

Poppa, will you
tell her we're closed?

I'll tell her
we're closed.

[Man] Now, look, lady!

My wife said--

Oh, please,
could I come in?

It's so wet out here.
I'm freezing to death.

Well, come on in.

Well, thank you.

Oh...
It's awfully late.

But I could give you
cabin number nine.

It's our best one.

New springs and mattress
in there.

Just a shower.
No tub bath. Is that all right?

[Marsha] Yeah, that's fine.
That's fine. Really.

I said we're closed.

Can't turn the girl
away, Momma.

No harm in giving her 9.

[Momma] Well, give her
the key, and hurry up about it,

and come to bed,
Poppa. Now.

[chuckles]

Momma. She gets
a little grouchy after midnight.

I can handle her,
though.

Well, I hope so.

I don't wanna cause
you any trouble.

Oh, no trouble at all.

Now let's see.
That will be 10 dollars.

Thank you.
Ah, thank you.

Can I help you
with your things?

No. No, thank you.
I can manage.

Pleasant dreams.

[thunder]

[thunder]

[thunder]

[thunder]

[thunder]

[screams]

[glass shatters]

[screams] No! No!

[screaming]

[pounding on door]
Open up! It's the manager!

What's going on in here?

[Manager] No, I didn't
get a good look at him.

He just came wailing out.

And he knocked me sideways.

And he carried her off
into the woods.

[Momma] I knew
when she checked in that she was no good.

All right. Tell me
what you did see.

Was he tall?
Was he short?

Was he thin?
Was he fat?

In what order
do you remember?

Tall. And all
wild in the eyes.

And he wore dark clothes.

All right. Now listen
to me, Mr. Dobkins.

Mrs. Dobkins.
And listen very good.

I'm gonna take you
downtown, so that you can see some mug shots.

Now in the meantime,

if word of what happened
here gets around,

this whole town's
gonna go into a panic.

I don't want the newspapers
to find out about it

until I have a chance
to find the girl.

That means that you
don't see anybody,

and you don't talk
to anybody about what happened here.

Do you understand that?
Oh, I won't say a word!

You understand that?
Oh, I do! I certainly do.

Sheriff, there's just
one thing I'd like to know.

Yeah?

What do I do
if he comes back?

[Norliss] Helen, I just
wanted to call and tell ya

I'll be late getting
back there tonight.

Is your sister there?

[Ellen, on phone]
Marsha? No.

I thought she was
still in New York.

No, she tried to call me.

Got my service,
and left a message.

Said she was driving home
late last night.

[Ellen] I haven't
seen her.

Well, maybe she changed
her mind.

Thank you.

If she calls again,
I'll tell her where you are.

Now, look. I'm at
the architectural firm

who originally designed
your place.

I found out how Cort
got into the studio

without unlocking the door.

He came up from below.

These blueprints I've been
looking at show

some very curious construction
that went on back in the '20s.

Seems the people who
originally owned the place

built a series of
underground tunnels.

Why would anybody
wanna build tunnels?

Well, during Prohibition,

they probably stored
guns and liquor.

The plans also show
several entrances,

one of which
is in the crypt.

Now, I found the connection

between Cort and

the bloodless condition
of the Parks girl.

I think the sculpture
is being done by Cort.

And I think he needed
the girl. Needed to kill her.

But why?

For the clay
in the sculpture.

I just got the chemical
analysis back.

The clay is 40 percent
human blood.

Now look, Ellen.
Stay put.

I have a few more
things to check on,

and I'll be done
as soon as I can.

Okay?

[shattering glass]

I've got to talk to you.

Now do you mind telling me

why you have to see
David Norliss?

I've got to break free.

I've got to strike
back at them.

The powers
of darkness.

They've controlled me.

Twisted me.

And I've done
their bidding.

Listen.

When I met your husband,

the thing he most wanted

in this world

was that his crippled
body be healed.

And so...

I told him about
the Osiris scarab.

I tried to convince him

about its power
over death.

Of a life beyond death.

But that only by
the use of his talent

could it be purchased.

So we made a pact.

After death,

the ring would
allow him the power

to rise from his coffin,

to work on a figure
of Sargoth.

Once the sculpture's
finished,

it'll have a physical form

in which to enter our world.

And in return for bestowing
life to Sargoth,

Jim Cort will be
granted immortality.

But we can stop him.

That's why I came here.

His powers take effect
after sundown.

If we can reach him
by sunset,

we can remove the ring
from his finger.

[Man] Mr. Norliss?

I have a message
for you, sir.

Thank you.

When did Mrs. Cort leave?

Hm. 15 or 20
minutes ago, I guess.

She and the other lady,
they left in a big hurry.

How long before
it gets dark here?

Mm...about a half hour,
I guess.

Entrance has got to
be here someplace.

Over here!
I think I found it.

[stone door grinding open]

I'll go first.

Maybe we should wait.

We don't have time.
We can't wait.

[echoing footsteps]

This way.

How do we know
which one to take?

We don't.

You take that tunnel,
and I'll take this one.

What if I find his body?

Then you remove the ring.

Let us go.

[honks horn]

[honks again]

[honking]

[honking, tires squealing]

[tires squealing]

[wood creaking]

Ellen, I found him!

He's over here!

I can't get it off.

[whispers] Hurry...

[brakes screech]

Edith, hurry.
Hurry!

I can't get it--

[screaming]

[yelps]

[panting, groaning]

[shrieks]

[screaming]

[screams]

No!

[unearthly moaning]

Ellen!

David! He killed Marsha.
And Jeckiel too.

Come on! Let's go.

I don't know why
he let me go.

I don't understand it.

It's no use.
Nothing's any use.

Can't get it open.

It's been moved.

It's almost finished.

[Norliss] Everything
but the eyes.

We can't let him
come to life!

We've got to!

We've gotta let him
finish!

[Ellen] Let me--!
Forget it!

It's the only thing
that can stop it.

What are you doing?

Making a blood circle.

According to
medieval alchemy,

you can enter
a blood circle.

But if it's on fire,

you can't get out.

[loud shifting]
What's that?

Hurry!

[clinking glass]

Quick. Quick!

[creaking]

[crickets]

[growling groan]

[guttural scream]

[howling moan]

[roar]

[thunder, roaring]

[speaking in tongues]

[voice echoing]

[police sirens]

[indistinct police radio]

[police, shouting]

[Norliss] I tried to explain
it all to Sheriff Hartley.

But he couldn't accept it.

The next morning,
they found the bones

of a man in the ashes.

The remains
of James Raymond Cort.

And of the demon Sargoth,
they found nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

[rainstorm, thunder]

[Sanford] Sargoth.

Strange name.

[clicks off tape]

I wonder.

I wonder if he was
truly destroyed.

Or could he be the key

to David's disappearance?

Well... maybe
this will tell me.

[Norliss] Chapter Two.

December 4th.

It was a rainy afternoon
when I received the letter.