All language subtitles for A Face in the Fog

(suspenseful orchestral music)

(terrified gasp)

(suspenseful orchestral music)

- Taxi!

Get me away from here,

anywhere.
(sharp gasp)

(dull thud)

(terrified gasp)

(engine purring)

Help! Help!

- What's that?

- We'll find out.

(engine purring)

- The Fiend, he's after me.

- Jean!

- He killed a taxi driver, instead of me.

- Who?
- The Fiend.

- Then taxi driver was murdered

in the same manner as the others.

Yeah.

Yeah, the police are on the job.

Can I make the night edition, Boss?

Well, that's swell.

Yeah, I'll see ya later, goodbye.

Keep the change.

- [Server] Thank you.

- It was lucky for me you came along.

- I was at the office

working on an article for Sunday's paper,

when I came across this,

so I made a beeline for your house.

- I'm very sorry I wrote that yarn, now.

- [Reporter] I don't doubt it.

Why didn't you tell me you saw him?

- I didn't see him, until tonight.

This was due to my love of the dramatic.

But, in the back of my mind,

I had the idea that if such
an article was printed,

the killer could be
brought out into the open.

- Well, you accomplished that.

Before your story was published,

you were one of a million people.

Now, you're the one person whom
he thinks can identify him.

- I guess I did make a mistake.

(door thunks)

Oh, Frank...
- Take it easy.

- Where are you going?

- Don't worry, I'll be right back.

- I guess it was the wind.

- Maybe.

- Frank, don't go out there.

- Were you looking for someone?

- No.

Guess my nerves are a little on edge, too.

- Mine are doing handsprings.

- Well, I'll engage a
room for you at a hotel,

someplace where you'll be safe

until this maniac's captured.

- I had no intention of
going back to that house.

- I wanna get you settled,

and then I'll report to the editor.

- I'll go back to the office with you.

- Well, don't you think you
better take a little rest?

- Oh, I couldn't sleep anyway.

I'm numb from the neck, both ways.

- Come on.

Wait a minute.

- See anything?

- No, let's go.

And, he almost got Jean, too.

- No.
- Yep.

It was the result of that story she wrote.

- I won't be myself until he's caught.

- Well, that's not going
to be such an easy job.

He's about as elusive as a gust of wind.

- If we only knew what
prompted these killings,

it might give us a clue,

something to work on.

- Say, the police would be satisfied

if they knew how his victims died.

They were poisoned, alright.

But the mystery is, how.

- Maybe he used poison darts.

- No, there hasn't been
a mark of any kind.

The coroner's so confused

that he almost held a
postmortem on himself.

Oh, here's a note for
you, it came by messenger.

- Thanks.

(sharp thud)

(chair clatters)

(loud clattering)

- Careful, Frank.

- It's Elmer.

- Elmer.

- What happened?

- I think my flashlight went
off when I wasnt' lookin'.

- Well, I'll help you.

- Thanks.

(palm smacks)

- I...

- I ought to fire you.

- Ah, please, not again.

- We thought you were the Fiend.

- Boy, I'd like to run
into that Fiendy guy.

- [Frank] What would you do?

- I'd take a picture of him, of course.

I could see it now, front
view, on the first page.

- But suppose he refused to pose for you.

- I never though of that.

- I gave you that note, didn't I?

- Oh yes, I forgot all
about it in the excitement.

(paper rattles)

It's from Ted Wallington.

He says if I'll come over
to the Alden Theater,

he'll give me an interview.

I can just make it.

- Do you intend to go?

- Oh, I'd like to.

Wallington's quite an important person.

I've always wanted

to do a hard interest
yarn on an Adagio dancer,

and this is my opportunity.

Besides, it's Peter
Fortune's first musical.

I can syndicate his story.

- I don't believe I'd go, if I were you.

The Fiend has already struck
down two members of the cast.

- But, this story means a lot to me,

and you know lightning never strikes twice

in the same place.

- Say, I thought that
fiend used poisoning.

- Will you pardon us if we ignore you?

- Oh, sure, go ahead,
I'm gettin' used to it.

- Well, I'm off to the Alden Theater.

- You mean, we are.

See ya later, Boss.

- I hope you're right.

- Hey, wait a minute.

I'll take a picture of
that Wallington fella.

(engine purring)

- Gosh, it's spooky in here.

(distant traffic humming)

(pleasant big band music)

- Who do you want to see?

- Ted Wallington.

- What about?

- I'm Jean Monroe of the Journal.

I came to interview him.

- I thought your face was familiar.

You're the one who recognized the Fiend...

- If you don't mind,

Miss Monroe would like
to see Mister Wallington.

- Sure, he's on the stage now,

but you can wait in the wings.

That's this way.

(pleasant big band music)

(crowd applauds)

(engine purrs)

(tripod clatters)
(dull thud)

(tripod clatters)

- Just keep the change,

I'll charge that at the expense
account. (clears throat)

- [Ted] So nice of you to
drop over, Miss Monroe.

- Thank you.

This is Mister Gordon, Mister Wallington.

- Glad to know you, Mister Gordon.

- Likewise.

- Sorry I didn't know you
folks were coming over,

I'd have arranged something.

- But, I received your note.

- My note?

- Didn't you send a message to the office?

- Why, no.

- [Frank] We'd better get
out of here, it's a trap.

(switch thunks)

- Oh, Frank!

- What do you mean?

- Get off that spot, he got a mark.

- [Ted] Why, Mister Gordon,

I don't think there's any cause for fear.

(deep gasp)

(shrill scream)

- [Woman] Turn on those lights!

- [Woman] Yes, turn on the lights!

(shrill screams)

- What was that?

- It came from backstage.

(footsteps thud)

(tripod clatters)
(dull thud)

(distant traffic hums)

(exasperated snort)

- Hey, can't ya see where you're goin'?

Oh, a wise guy, eh?

- You know where the
switch is, turn it on.

(laughing)

(footsteps thunk)

- It's Wallington.

- I guess he's done for.

- His heart's still beating.

- I know him, I tell you.

You've got to stop him.

- Take it easy, old man.

Now, who was he?

- (gasping) His name is, (sighing)

- How did this happen?

- It's some more of the Fiend's work.

- The Fiend?

Was he just in here?

- Yes.

What's the matter, Elmer?

You look ill.

- I just called him a smart guy.

- Who?

- The Fiend, I just
bumped into him outside.

- [Frank] Are you sure you saw him?

- Am I sure?

Of course, I'm sure.

But, I couldn't recognize him again.

Please put that in the
paper, will ya, Frank?

- (chuckles) One more thing, Boss.

Elmer didn't see him.

Nobody saw him.

There's no question about it,
it's the work of the same man.

I'll keep ya posted.

Goodbye.

- Wallington said he was shot, didn't he?

- Yes.

- Yet, the coroner reports

there wasn't the slightest
evidence of a bullet.

- Then, how was he killed?

- Poison, just like the others.

- I didn't know there was a law

against killing Adagio dancers.

- Is that all you have to say?

- No, I'm wondering why this Fiend

is killing all these people.

- Well, I'm sure it isn't to
rid the world of undesirables.

- I guess you're right.

He must have a reason.

- And, we'd like to find
out what that reason is.

However, we may soon know.

- Oh, I hope so.
- How?

- Peter Fortune has a theory.

- Not the Peter Fortune
who wrote our show.

- Yep, same man.

He delves into crime
detection on the side.

- I never knew that.

- Oh, he doesn't talk about it,

but he's out crackin' many difficult cases

for the department.

- What does he say about this case?

- Nothing, yet.

I talked with him on the phone
about a half-an-hour ago,

and he said he'd come over
and let me in on his secret.

He should be here in five minutes.

(phone rings)

Pardon me.

Hello?

Have him come in.

(receiver clunks)

That's Fortune, now.

- My, how quickly time passes.

- Hello, Pete.

- Hello.

I feel terribly about Wallington.

He was a grand fella, and
helped the show considerably.

- Yes, it's too bad.

- [Peter] How do you do, Miss Monroe?

- How do you do?

- I'm sorry to meet you
under these circumstances,

but I'd like to take this
opportunity to thank you

for your very flattering
criticism of my last play.

I'm sure I didn't deserve it.

- You're very modest.

Oh, and do you know Mister
Gordon, Mister Fortune?

- I do now.

How are you, Mister Gordon?

- Fine, thank you.

- I was just telling
these that you had an idea

how The Fiend killed his victims.

I hope ya don't mind.

- Not at all.

'Course, my idea is nothing concrete,

but it may lead to something.

- What is it?

- Well,

I've an idea that he uses
frozen, concentrated poison,

shot from a specially
constructed revolver.

The poison melts immediately

upon striking the warmth of a body.

- That seems rather far-fetched, to me,

but maybe a thing like that might work.

I don't know.

- I know it will work.

I've seen it.

- You have?

- Yes.

And, I wouldn't be surprised

if Sanchie had something
to do with these murders.

- Who is Sanchie?

- Well, he's rather difficult to describe,

although I've know him
for a good many years.

He's helped me on several mystery plays,

that is, given me technical advice.

Sanchie can devise more
ways of killing people

than anyone I've ever known.

He has affected just such an arrangement

as I have described.

- Do you know where we can find him?

- Well, not exactly,

but I know several haunts he frequents,

and well, he's extremely self-conscious.

You see, Sanchie is a hunchback.

- Hunchback?

- So was The Fiend.

- Maybe you have hit on something.

I'd like to question this Sanchie.

- Well, as soon as I locate him,

I'll turn him over to you.

- You want any of my men?

- Well, thanks, I think
I'd better work alone,

for the present.

- That's alright with me, but
if Sanchie is the man we want,

we want him.

- I'll do the best I can, Davis.

After all, I'm vitally interested.

Three people of my show
have been murdered.

- Well, I guess there's nothing
more that we can do, now.

Thank you very much for coming over.

- Not at all.

Goodnight, Miss Monroe.

- I had a narrow escape tonight.

- So, Mister Davis told me.

May I make a suggestion?

- [Jean] Of course.

- [Peter] Well, if I were you,

I wouldn't go home tonight.

- Oh, I have no intention of
doing so, I can assure you.

- Why don't you come over to
the Globe Hotel, Miss Monroe?

Most of the cast are staying there.

Might give you a feeling of security.

- I think that's a splendid idea, Reardon.

- So do I.

Thank you very much.

- I think I'll check in at the Globe, too,

if you don't mind.

- Not at all.

- I don't think we've met.

My name's Fortune.

- What's the difference,
as long as you're healthy.

- [Manager] Oh George, 612 and 614.

- [George] Right.

- Open up 614 for me, would you, please?

- [George] Yes, sir.

Thank you.

- I particularly asked for a
room without a fire escape.

It's folly to take unnecessary chances.

Afraid?

- I don't think so.

Only a few people know that I'm here,

and I don't believe any of
those could be the Fiend.

- I wish I could feel sure about that.

- Who do you suspect?

- Oh, no one in particular,
and, well, everybody.

You realize Wallington's
death was purely accidental.

The Fiend planned to get you.

The message you received proved that.

- I shouldn't be surprised
if I had a nightmare or two.

- Oh, I didn't mean to frighten ya,

but I do want you to be careful, dear.

- Kiss me goodnight, dear.

- 'Night, darling.

Now, don't forget to lock your door.

I'll be the room, in case you need me.

Oh, how are you on screaming?

- Quite proficient.

- (chuckling) Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

(soft knocking)

(soft knocking)

- [Reardon] May I come in?

- Why, certainly.

Here ya are, sit down.

- Thank you.

I figured there wasn't much
chance of goin' to sleep,

so I decided to keep you up a while, too.

- That's okay with me.

- I think I have as much
courage as the average man,

but this whole situation
has sorta got me down.

- Oh, I can easily understand that.

- Too bad Miss Monroe got mixed up in it.

Prior to that,

the Fiend confined is
activities to the Alden Theater.

(phone ringing)

Excuse me.

Hello?

Yes, this is Gordon.

At the office?

Alright, Boss, I'll be right over.

That was Harrison, my editor.

Say, I wonder how he knew I was here.

- Oh, he might have got it
from police headquarters,

or that photographer may have told him.

- Oh, that's possible.

Anyway, I'm going to find out.

That might be a gag to
get me away from here.

Hello?

Now, get me the Journal, please.

Hello, Journal?

Mister Harrison, please.

Not in?

Been gone an hour?

(chuckles) Oh, no, that's alright, thanks.

Hmm.

That's that.

- Sounds like you were right, Gordon.

- Yep, someone wants me out of this hotel.

I'll phone the police, and
have them send a detail over.

- Let me phone for ya.

At least I can do that much
to help the cause along.

- [Frank] Thanks.

- Operator, get me police headquarters.

Alright, I'll hold the wire.

(coin clatters)

(dial scrapes)

- Good evening, Globe Hotel.

- I wanna see, I wanna
talk to Frank Gordon.

- Frank Gordon?

Just a moment, please.

What's Frank Gordon's room number?

- [Man] 614.

- Hello, police headquarters?

I'm speakin' for Frank
Gordon at the Globe Hotel.

He wants you to send...

(phone rings)

- What's the big idea?

You weren't talking on that phone.

Why you...
- Why.

(phone clunks)

- Well, I'll break your neck.

- Now, is that a nice way to talk to me?

- Oh, you're mixed up in this, were you?

(elbow thunks)

(soft scuffling)

- Frank, are you alright?

- Stay in your room, Jean,
and keep the door locked.

(fists thudding)

- Oh.

(fists thudding)

(low thunk)

(door slams)

(door thuds)

(door clunks)

(loud knocking)

- Is that you, Frank?

- Yes, open the door.

- Wait a minute.

- There must be somethin' the
matter with the telephone.

That's better, but you'll
have to talk louder.

I can't understand a thing you're saying.

(door thunks)

- [Elmer, On Phone] Hello!

- Hello?

- [Elmer, On Phone] Hi, Frank.

- Please, pick him up.

And, listen, on your way over,

stop at the station and
bring a couple of the boys.

- Here?

- Frank, were you at my door?

(phone rattles)

(hammer clicks)

(gunshot bangs)
(glass shatters)

- Elmer.

Elmer, it's The Fiend, he's here.

- (stuttering) The what?

(loud knocking)

Jean!

- Come in here.

- Listen, everything's alright, he's gone.

- Yes, but he might come back.

You'd better phone the police.

It isn't necessary,
Elmer's bringin' them over.

(moaning softly)

(receiver thunks)

(phone thuds)

(head thunks)

(engine purrs)

(knuckle tapping)

(knuckle tapping)

(handle clicks)

(paper crinkles)

(paper crinkles)

(twine scrapes)

(maniacal laughter)

(sharp gasp)

- Captain Davis would like to see you.

- Here's a wet print.

- Thanks.

- You might be surprised
to hear me say this,

but there's a strong possibility
that Reardon and Sanchie

are one and the same person.

- (laughing) Why, that's ridiculous.

- Surely, you'd recognize
Sanchie if you saw him.

- Maybe not.

In all my dealings with him,
he kept his face well-hidden.

That's why my description was so vague.

- Sounds like you're writing a new play.

- That's not a bad idea.

I haven't overlooked the fact

that you're a very clever actor,

and a master makeup artist.

- You can't hold me

because this man has a vivid imagination.

- Answer me one simple little question.

- What's that?

- What were you doing at Sanchie's place?

- Well...

Well, I...

Well, I went there...

- That's enough.

Take him away.

- I'm innocent, I tell you.

Book him on suspicion

of murder.
- I'm innocent.

- Come on.

Come on!

- I want you to know

how much I appreciate
what you've done, Fortune.

- Aw, it was an accident, assure you.

- I wish you'd drop over
to the Alden Theater

about ten in the morning.

I'll have everyone present

who was there when Wallington was killed,

and that includes Reardon.

- You can count on me, Captain.

Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

- Hello?

(phone rattles)

(coin clatters)

(dial scrapes)

(phone rings)

- Hello, Davis speaking.

- Yeah, listen, Captain, this is Elmer.

I was just talkin' to Frank
Gordon at the Globe Hotel.

He says the Fiend is in his room.

- What?

Well, I don't see.

Well, how many fiends are there?

- I don't know.

(receiver clunks)

(receiver clicks)

(footsteps thud)

- Hello?

Have Brown, Kennedy and Flynn
meet me outside, right away.

(receiver clicks)

(footsteps shuffle)

- Hurry, we haven't a moment to lose.

- Do you know Gordon's room number?

- No, but I wouldn't be
surprised if the clerk did.

- 614.

614.

- Here it is.

(loud thunk)

- Hey, you fellas got guns?

- Why, sure.

- Maybe you'd better go in first, then.

- That's about all, Boss.

Oh, wait a minute.

You'll find a picture
of Reardon in the file.

And, Jean's doing a human interest on him.

(kiss smacks)

Ooh, don't.

You know what that does to me.

Oh, (laughing) no, not
you, Boss, no. (laughing)

(soft rapping)

Wait a minute.

Who's there?

- [Davis] Captain Davis, open the door.

- I'll be right with you.

Okay, Boss, I'll call ya later.

Well, you took long enough to get here.

- [Davis] Where is this
fiend you were talking about?

- He was here about an hour ago,

when I spoke to Elmer on the telephone.

- I thought you said you
just talked to Gordon.

- Well, (stuttering) I think I did.

- That was an hour ago.

- I must have fallen asleep
in the telephone booth.

- Are you sure you aren't asleep now?

- What's the difference,
as long as you're healthy?

- I think Reardon could throw
some light on this case.

- I'm sure of it.

We've got him locked up.

I'm convinced that he's the Fiend.

And, before I forget, I
want all of you, and...

You, too...

At the Alden Theater, at ten
o'clock tomorrow morning.

I'm goin' to reenact the
death scene of Ted Wallington.

And, by the way, will you all
please wear the same clothes?

- Well, when is the
show gonna start, Boss?

- Now, I don't wanna have
any trouble with you.

Reardon will be here in moment.

Kelly's bringing him over.

- But, what possible motive

could Reardon have to ruin his show?

- Did it ever occur to you

that he might have been
jealous of Wallington?

- Well, surely he wasn't
jealous of Miss Monroe,

or the taxi driver.

- Don't forget, you claimed
you could identify him.

- But, I don't truthfully think I could.

I only had one brief glimpse
of him in the mirror.

And, you've seen him lots of
times, you said so yourself,

and you don't know what he looks like.

- (chuckles) That's true, but
perhaps we're both better off.

(case snaps)

(cigarette taps)

- Well, Cooke, it looks very
much like we're through.

Even if we had actors,

we'd have a tough time
getting an audience.

Who will come and see our show, now.

- Maybe I should have
given Reardon that raise

when he asked for it.

- I'm scared to death, Marge.

- Well, don't worry, gal, I'll protect ya.

- I'm still afraid.

- Now, I want everyone to take
the exact positions they had

when Wallington was killed.

- Well, I was outside.

- That suits me perfectly.

- Come on, we were in the office.

- I'm afraid I don't fit in here, at all.

I was home, asleep.

- Stick around, I may need you.

- Right.

- Where were you?

- I was standing next to Vera.

- No, he wasn't.

He left me while Wallington
was still on the stage.

- That's not true.

- Shut up.

- Stand over there.

- You're my lawyer, do I have to?

- Well, it's alright.

- That's where Wallington died.

- Yes, I know.

- I'm not The Fiend,

and you're not going to make me say I am.

- Who is?
- I don't know.

I don't know, I told you.

- Take your position.

Turn off the lights.

(switch thunks)

- Turn them on, I can't
stand this darkness.

Turn them on.

Why don't you say something, Davis?

- You're doing the talking, Reardon.

- Yes.

Yes, I'll talk.

I've never seen his face.

I'll help ya crack him.

Anything.

He wrote notes.

He threatened my life.

He forced me to help him.

He left that bundle for
me to take to his hideout.

- [Davis] Alright, who's the man, Reardon?

Who is he?

- I don't know.

I don't know for sure.

(deep gasp)

(sobbing loudly)

(hat thuds)

(cuff clatters)
(loud sob)

- Turn on the lights.

(switch thunks)

(footsteps thud)

The Fiend's here somewhere.

Anyone go out that door?

- [Detective] No, Captain.

- Well, what's happened now?

- Reardon's dead.

(shocked gasps)

Is there another entrance
beside the stage door?

- Yes, back door, used for scenery.

- I'll take a look.

(shoes scuffling)

I found this man trying to get out.

- Bruce Cromwell.

- You know him?

- Yes, he runs the
theater on the next block.

- I didn't kill him.

I had nothing to do with it.

I came in, it was dark, here.

A man rushed by me, aimed a gun,

and when I saw what
happened, I tried to get out.

- You'll have a tough
time getting out of this.

This sort of throws a
monkey wrench on the works.

- I don't agree with you.

There's some connection
between these two men.

At least, this one has a motive.

- Let me go.

You're talking about...

- Alright, Cromwell.

Kelly, take him to the station.

- [Kelly] Let's get goin'.

- You can lend me a hand,
if you're not too busy.

- I'm your man, Cap'n.

- I'll send the coroner right over.

Don't let anyone disturb
the body until he gets here.

- Anything happen?

- No, not a thing.

- I can't imagine why.

- Hey, can I do anything?

- I doubt it.

Aw.

- This has been like a nightmare, Frank.

- Well, he missed you again.

- Just a minute, girls.

I might as well tell you
now, the show is closed.

It's a blow to Mister Wilson
and myself, as well as you,

but when this mystery is cleared up,

we may be able to open again.

(dancers grumbling)

- Well, it's a nice day,
even if I do say so, myself.

- I think we'd better
notify the newspapers

to cancel our advertisements at once.

- Well, I'll stay here, if
you gentlemen have work to do.

- Thanks.

(sharp gasp)

(laughs) Look!

Reardon's dead.

- Yes, we know.

Do you mind waiting here
with Elmer for a moment?

I wanna look around.

- Alright.

- Alright, you found
Fortune's cigarette case.

But, that certainly
doesn't sell me the idea

that he's responsible

for Reardon and the others being murdered.

- Boss, I have a hunch

Peter Fortune is the Fiend himself.

- (scoffs) Don't be ridiculous, Frank.

- (stuttering) That's what I told him.

- Don't tell me that I agree with you.

Well, here's your evidence, Sherlock,

but I'm sure you're
barking up the wrong tree.

- It's funny,

but since I told Fortune that
I couldn't identify the Fiend,

no more attempts have
been made on my life.

- If you could present a motive

why Fortune would want to do this thing

that you're tryin' to tack on him,

that would be a different story.

Now, don't think I'm tryin'
to discourage you, Gordon.

As a matter of fact,

I'd like to see this Fiend caught, too.

And, Fortune would suit me just fine.

Why, I can see the headlines, now.

Famous playwright revealed as Fiend.

That story would be worth
$2,000 to this paper.

- We could use $2,000, couldn't we, Jean?

- Yes, darling.

- Well, that's settled.

- Evidently, you're
going to follow through

with this hunch of yours.

- Yes.

- Well, good luck.
- Thanks.

- I think I'll stick around the office.

After all, I do work here.

- (laughs) I do, too.

- Don't you be too sure about that.

- And, am I ambitious.

Come on, let's go. (clears throat)

- May I use your phone?

- Sure.

- Hello, Fritzie, give me De Morne.

Hello, George.

Look through the files

and get all the material on
Peter Fortune, the playwright.

Yes, everything.

I'll be right down.

(receiver thunks)

(carrier clicks)

Boy, is this a break.
- What?

- Oh, nothing.

Thanks, Georgie.

Now, keep that alive for me, will ya?

(loud knocking)

- Come in.

- Hello, Mister Wilson.

Hi, Mister Cooke.

Say, I'm doing a feature
story on Peter Fortune,

and if you've got any old
photographs around here,

I certainly could use 'em.

- Well, there's some in
that desk, right there.

- Let me see,

if there's anything here
that will suit your purpose,

you're welcome to them.

- Thanks a lot.

You know,

I chanced to pick up an old
newspaper in the office,

had a story in it about
Fortune's first play.

It certainly was a terrible break

that the theater burned
up on the opening night.

- Yes, it was.

We produced that play.

- Yes, I know.

The man next to Fortune is
his brother, am I right?

- Yes.

- Too bad he burned to death,

when Fortune was on the road to success.

- Yes, it was.

We felt terrible about that, too.

- Does he ever mention it?

- Not to us.

Well, thank you, gentlemen.

Thank you a lot.

(door slams)

- I guess there's nothing more
we can do, for the present.

- No, Cromwell refuses to talk
until his lawyer gets here.

- Well, that's his privilege.

- Will you wait?

- No, Captain, I've got to go.

I've got some very important business.

- Well, thanks for your cooperation.

- Don't mention it.

- I think you'll find all the
information you want on that.

- Hmm, 40 people died, eh?

- It was a bad one.

Cooke and Wilson, the producers,

nearly went to jail over it.

- Is that so?

Why?

- They were suspected of arson.

But, the company couldn't
prove anything against them.

- Well, thanks a lot for your information.

- Quite welcome.

(loud knocking)

- Come in.

- Did either of you gentlemen
find a cigarette case?

- I didn't.

- Neither did I.

- Sorry, I think I'll
take a look backstage.

(door slams)

- Well, how's the boy detective?

- I've got a motive, Boss.

- For living? (laughs)

- Oh, I'm serious.

I've run across a reason

why Fortune wants to
ruin Cooke and Wilson.

- But what have they
got to do with all this?

- Well, I'll tell ya.

Ten years ago...

- Hello, Mister Fortune.
- Hello, Pop.

I lost something.

I may have dropped it
when I was here before.

D'ya mind if I look around?

- Why, sure not, go ahead.

- Thank you.

- Did you find it?

- [Peter] Yes, thank you.

- And, I believe Peter Fortune
blames Cooke and Wilson

for his brother's death.

- Well, don't forget, Gordon,

most that you've told me is a
result of a vivid imagination.

- It's plausible.

- But, not plausible
enough to convince a jury.

Why, you couldn't even
arrest the man on suspicion.

You lack evidence.

- Well, what about this case?

- Well, that could have been
dropped there a week ago,

for all we know.

Perhaps you'd better return the case,

and forget all about it.

- No, sir, I'm not through yet.

- (stuttering) Did you send for me?

- Yes, over to the Belmont Gymnasium,

and get a few pictures of the champ.

- If I could only trail Fortune,

I'm sure I could get some evidence.

- Well, I'm afraid you'll have
to trail him some other time.

We've got a paper to get out.

And, if you don't get going,

the champ may lose his
crown before you get there.

- Well, okay, Boss, I'm gone.

(whistling cheerily)

(engines purring)

(door clunks)

- Sanchie, I don't know what
I could have done without you.

(engine purring)

(door thuds)

(engine purrs)

(engine roars)

(engines purr)

(rough pop)

- Oh, everything happens to me.

- Here's a yarn about Cromwell
being the latest suspect.

- Mister Gordon, there's man
outside who wants to see you.

- Who, me?
- Yes.

- Thanks.

- How'd you do, Gordon?

- How are you, Mister Fortune?

- You'll pardon the intrusion,

but I lost my cigarette
case backstage at the Alden.

I thought perhaps you'd found it.

- [Frank] Why...

No.

- Sorry, it had a great deal
of sentiment attached to it.

- Well, that's too bad you lost it.

- (chuckles) Well, I hope
the finder will enjoy it.

- Any news on Cromwell?

- No, but I may have some
startling facts this afternoon.

I'm on my way to see Sanchie.

- Well, good, I'll go with ya.

- No, I think I'd better go alone.

Sorry, too.

I'd like to give ya a break, Gordon.

Bye.
- So long, Fortune.

(typewriter clacks)

(traffic hums)

(brakes squeal)
(traffic hums)

(traffic hums)

- Frank is right!

- Did you get those pictures?

- No, where is Gordon?

- In the editorial office.

Say...

- Hey, Frank is right.

He is right!

- Well, it's a cinch you aren't.

(typewriters clacking)

- Well, where's Frank?

- I don't know, he was here
just a few minutes ago.

- I've seen Sanchie,

and the gun the Fiend used
to kill all those people.

- You have? Where?

- In a little shack on
the outskirts of town.

Frank was right, Jean.

Peter Fortune is mixed up in this.

- Well, it looks like Frank and I

are going to be $2,000 richer.

- And, when are you gonna get married?

- Just as soon as I can
drag him to an alter.

Oh, do you know where Mister Gordon is?

- Yes, ma'am, I seen him
about five minutes ago.

- Where?

- He's talkin' to a Mister
Fortune, out in the hall.

- Fortune!

Where are they?

- I don't know, they just left.

- You don't really think
Frank is any danger, do you?

- I don't know, but we can't
afford to take any chances.

(door bangs)

(traffic hums)

(horn beeps)
(traffic hums)

(bell dings)
(traffic hums)

(engine purrs)

(bell dings)
(traffic hums)

(traffic hums)

(engine purrs)

(brakes grind)

(door thuds)

(engine purrs)

(knuckles rap)

(engine purrs)

- Sanchie, you've helped me again.

(shoe thuds)

(door bangs)

Gordon, I'll take that cigarette case.

Sanchie did the trick, eh?

Sanchie is a clever man.

He's devised more ways of killing people

than anyone I've even known.

He's helped me on plays.

We've written a story
together, a story of vengeance,

vengeance we've waited 10 years to pay.

(siren whines)

Cooke and Wilson will
never produce another show.

They killed my brother.

I helped to make 'em successes.

Now, Sanchie and I have ruined them.

Do you see?

Sanchie and I are one! (laughing)

(siren screams)

You and your newspaper
have branded me the Fiend.

Gordon, ya haven't got a chance.

I would have killed you that
night in the hotel room,

but unfortunately,

the gun that fires my concentrated poison

will only hold one bullet.

(laughs) Have you any idea

why I was so concerned
about my cigarette case?

- You said it had a lot of
sentiment attached to it.

- (laughing) Yeah.

I should have said a great
deal of incriminating evidence.

- The frozen poison.

- (laughing) That's right.

And, I wouldn't like to slight you.

- You're a madman, Fortune.

- Not mad, Gordon.

Clever.

Gordon, have you any unfinished
business in this world

that I could take care of?

- Fortune!

(glass shatters)
(gunshot bangs)

(gun clatters)
(case clatters)

(dull thud)

- Did ya get him?

- [Officer] Yes.

- Well, that's the end of that bird.

- Remind me never to ignore you again.

I'll phone the story in,

and have Harrison rush out an extra.

Oh, did ya bring your camera?

- Yeah, no, I left it at the office.

- What?

- That's great work, Frank, great.

But, don't you ask me
for a bonus. (laughing)

- Well, I really had nothing
to do with the capture.

The credit for that goes to Elmer.

- Aw, Frank, if it
hadn't been for you, I...

- Checks and cash here, Mister Harrison.

- Well, the check's made out to you,

you can argue it out between you.

- Well, I'll endorse it,
but it's yours, Elmer.

- Hey, I won't take any part of that.

You can just consider
this a wedding present.

- Is somebody getting married?

- Yeah, as sure as Jean can
drag him to the alter. (laughs)

- Why, Elmer...

- Don't worry, darling,
you won't have to drag me.

- Thanks, Elmer.

- That's alright, honey.

- You know, you really
ought to get married, too.

It isn't right for a man to live alone.

- What's the difference,
as long as you're...

- I know, as long as you're healthy.

(laughter)
(pleasant orchestral music)

(pleasant orchestral music)