Original subtitles

Janet?

Jan?

Oh, David, darling, David.

Janet!

What on earth is the matter?

What's happened?

Oh, darling, it's been terrible, I thought I'd go mad.

What is it, Janet, aren't you well?

Oh, for heaven's sake, please, what is it?

What happened to you?

Where have you been?

Where have I been?

To the office, of course.

Where do you think I've been?

Yes, but last night and all today.

Oh, Janet, darling.

I never saw you like this before.

If you didn't feel well, why didn't you ring me at the bank?

You only had to phone, I'd have come straight home.

I've been in torment all day and all last night.

I thought I was going mad.

All last night?

What do you mean, dear, all last night?

When you didn't come home.

Oh, Janet, dear, look at the clock up there.

Look, it's just gone seven.

I'm always home at seven every evening.

There's nothing for you to be anxious about.

It's just been an ordinary day, dear,

just like any other Monday.

Today's Tuesday.

Monday, darling.

It's Tuesday, David.

You're tired, you've got confused.

I do know which day of the week it is.

Yesterday was Sunday.

Don't you remember, we worked in the garden,

you pruned the rose trees, I cut the lawn?

Ah, I'm just going to make you a nice cup of tea.

Do you know, you probably had an afternoon nap

and dreamt that I didn't come home, but I did.

Everything's all right.

David!

Just a moment.

The evening paper you brought in.

Look, Tuesday.

Well, that's extraordinary.

And you'd better look at this morning's paper.

This morning's paper isn't here 'cause I took it with me to the office.

Now you know I always take it with me, Janet.

You didn't take the morning paper

because you weren't here to take it.

Tuesday, the 27th, you see?

We've always understood one another, David,

and if you suddenly felt you wanted to go off

and be on your own for a while,

well, it's perfectly all right, I should have understood.

But why couldn't you telephone

and tell me you weren't coming home?

No, something I don't understand has happened, Janet.

You must give me time to think,

'cause I'm sure there's some quite simple explanation

that'll come in a minute.

Anyone at the bank can tell you I've been there all day.

You've not been at the bank all day.

I rang the manager.

I was getting supper ready at seven o'clock last night,

like I always do.

When you didn't come in, well, I thought you'd missed

the train at Cannon Street or the train was late for some reason.

But then eight o'clock came and I was terribly worried

because you always telephone if you're going to be late.

I thought you'd had an accident.

By nine o'clock, I was so dreadfully anxious,

I rang up the police.

You rang up the police?

Well, what did you expect me to do?

Did you expect me to lock up the house

and go to bed as if nothing had happened?

The sergeant on duty said he'd inquire at the hospitals

and see if anyone had been brought in.

I sat up here all night waiting and listening,

and then when the bank was open, I rang the manager.

He said you hadn't come in this morning,

but that you'd left last night as usual at five o'clock.

You told me you left at six, David.

You said you always leave at six.

Uh, that's right, Janet, so I do, at six.

Well, I asked him again because it surprised me,

and he repeated it, he said you always leave at five.

Why, he must have made a mistake or you misunderstood him.

He always leaves at five,

speaking of himself when he said that.

Oh, well, about 12, he rang up again

and said you still hadn't come in.

Since then, I've just been sitting here for hours and hours

and thought I was going mad.

Then you walk in, David, as if nothing had happened

and then say I dreamt it all.

No, all I can tell you is,

unless I've taken leave of my senses,

I've been at the bank all day

and done the usual work I always do on Monday.

Oh, look at my clothes.

Do I look as I've been wandering about all Monday night?

But where could I have washed and shaved, eh?

Do I look any different from what I look every evening

when I come in from the office?

Coming up the road just now,

I was thinking of the ordinary everyday things

I think about on my way home,

the tulips to put in round the house next Sunday,

the accounts of the social club

to get ready for the general meeting next month,

our evening at the pictures on Wednesday.

You know, you were angry when I say

you must have had a nap and dreamt it,

but what else can I think?

These papers, I don't understand,

but there must be some explanation,

some quite simple explanation.

Hello?

Oh, yes, Mr. Cooper.

Yes, he's just come in.

No, no, he's quite all right.

I don't know, I'll tell him.

He says you've not been at the bank all day.

He'd like to speak to you.

Hello, good evening, Mr. Cooper, sir.

Yes, I'm quite all right.

I don't know.

I'm afraid there isn't anything I can tell you now.

I'll be at the bank early, at a quarter to nine,

and I'll come and see you in your office.

Yes, yes, goodnight, sir.

Look, there's Dr. Sparling calling on the Prestons.

I noticed he wasn't on the train this morning.

I wonder if anything's wrong.

Oh, my husband's upstairs lying down, Doctor.

I'll take you up to him.

Thank you, you definitely think he's ill?

I don't know, I don't know any more

than I told you on the phone.

He came in looking quite well and cheerful.

He was perfectly all right until I showed him the newspaper,

and then he refused to believe it.

Then the bank manager rang up.

He believed it then?

What else could he do?

Yes, but he couldn't hope to walk in like that

and make you believe that nothing had happened

unless he honestly believed it.

I don't know, he's such an honest man, Doctor.

I don't think he's ever told a lie in his life.

I think he was absolutely genuine when he seemed surprised.

And yet I had a feeling he was concealing something.

- Oh? - It's a small thing,

but he said he left his office last night at six o'clock,

that he always leaves at six,

but the bank manager on the phone

said he leaves at five regularly every night.

Yes, well, that hardly explains

him being away for 24 hours.

Did you ask him about it?

Oh, yes, he said it was a mistake.

He was so certain I must believe him.

Oh, of course.

Well, you don't know us very well, Doctor,

but I think you ought to know

that we're absolutely happy together.

I'm sure of that.

Well, that's what made it hard,

but I did try to make him realise

that I would understand perfectly

if he just wanted to go off and be on his own for a while.

What did he say to that?

Oh, he swore there was nothing,

there was absolutely nothing.

Then I think you should accept that.

Yes, I do, because I am certain

he always has told me the truth

in all the years we've been together.

Well, if you'll tell him I'm here.

- David? - Mm-hmm?

- Dr. Sparling's here. - Oh.

Ah, good evening.

Good evening, Doctor.

Well, it's quite a long time since we last met.

Do you remember?

The social club dance.

Yes, at Christmas, we had quite a good crowd that evening.

It must keep you pretty busy,

being treasurer of a big club like that.

Oh, it does, it takes a good deal of time, I enjoy it.

How many members have you got?

- Over 300 this year. - Oh, it's a big thing.

Yes, it is, I helped to start it 10 years ago.

We began with 15 members.

We've gone ahead fast the past few years.

Well, you're looking very well.

Well, I feel well, perfectly well.

My wife told you on the phone what happened?

Yes, she told me everything you told her.

It's all so queer, Doctor, like a nightmare.

Yes, now look, I don't want you

to take this in the wrong way,

but you do realise that anything you say to me

is in the strictest confidence.

I mean, if there's anything you don�t want.

Mrs. Preston to know?

Oh, I can assure you definitely of that, Doctor.

I can tell you no more than I told my wife.

I told her everything I know.

From the moment I left home yesterday morning

till the moment I arrived back here this evening,

I was absolutely convinced

I'd spent an ordinary day at the bank.

Then there's only one thing that could have happened.

You must have had a lapse of memory

that apparently lasted a full 24 hours.

A lapse of memory.

But where could I have been for 24 hours?

Well, that's what we've got to try and find out.

You've been quite well recently?

I mean, no headaches or accountable restlessness

or sleeplessness?

No, I don't think so.

Nothing seriously worrying you?

Nothing to account for all this.

Was there anything unusual

in your journey to London yesterday?

No, arrived at the station a few minutes

before the train came in, met Major Watson on the platform,

the president of our social club.

We travelled up together and talked of club affairs,

the new tennis courts we're laying down,

the general meeting next month.

I remember it all perfectly.

Nothing happened at the bank because the manager rang up,

told my wife I'd been there all day.

And you, uh,

and you left the bank at your usual time?

Yes.

Yes.

You did say anything I told you would be in confidence?

Oh, absolutely, I give you my word on that.

Well, there is one little thing.

It's a harmless trivial little thing.

It couldn't possibly have anything to do with all this.

But, um, you...

You understand my wife and I are perfectly happy together.

Oh, yes, of course.

Everyone has little things they like and dislike.

Well, my wife doesn't like alcoholic drinks.

I mean, she's not intolerant.

She's not a temperance fanatic or anything like that,

but I respect her wishes in that,

and I don't have them in the house.

Anyway, I drink very little,

but like a good many other men,

I enjoy a glass of sherry in the evening

- when I finish my day's work. - So do I, why not?

Well, it's been a habit of mine for some while

to call in at a little place and have a glass of sherry

on my way to the station every evening.

It was just after the war, we were short of staff.

I was working every evening until seven.

Well, at six o'clock I'd go out, have my drink,

then go back and finish my work.

It's a little pub in a side street near the bank

kept by a brother and two sisters, very nice people.

Joe's about 40, I suppose, Ellen about the same age.

Well, the younger sister, she's much the younger,

under 30 I imagine.

I know what you're thinking, Doctor.

Oh, not at all, why should I?

It was perfectly harmless.

She's full of fun and I like her.

We'd sit there passing the time of day

having a joke or so while I was drinking my sherry.

Well, when this late work finished,

I was free to leave the bank at the usual hour, five.

I was rather disappointed to think

this pleasant half hour would have to end.

They don't open till six, of course.

I could scarcely hang about for an hour waiting.

Oh, so you went round to the side door.

Yes, I used to do that in a place

in Winchester during the war.

Yes, well, they live over the premises.

Well, it was rather foolish of me not to tell my wife,

but you see I just let her think

I still worked at the bank until six,

and then walked straight to the station for my train home.

Well, I don't think there's anything

very terrible in that.

I imagine a lot of other city men do the same.

But why didn't you tell your wife?

I don't know really why I didn't tell her.

I think it was mainly because I didn't want her

to feel she was depriving me of anything

I could easily have at home.

See, she'd have insisted on having the sherry in.

I didn't want it in.

I like having it where I do

- at that time of the evening. - Naturally.

If I were to suddenly tell her now

that I've been doing this,

she might think it was somehow connected

- with what's happened. - I'm sure it isn't.

You went there as usual last night?

Oh, yes, arrived just after five,

left in good time to catch my train.

Nothing unusual happened?

Nothing, I had my sherry,

and we all went into the saloon bar

and played a game of darts.

I remember six o'clock striking from St. Paul's

as I said goodnight.

Well, it all boils down to the next hour,

because normally you would have been home at seven.

Can you remember how you were feeling

on the walk to the station?

Were there any incidents on the way?

I was feeling happy and contented as I always do

walking to the station after my sherry.

You didn't have more than usual to drink

that evening by any chance?

Oh, I'm certain of that.

Two's the limit, they never press me.

I'm very much a creature of habit, Doctor.

You know, one cup of tea for breakfast

and exactly one-half cup more, things like that.

Hmm, and you arrived at Cannon Street

in good time for your train.

Yes.

Yes.

There's one curious little thing.

I don't think I'd even remember it

if I wasn't searching for something

round out of the ordinary.

I do remember a curious feeling

as I walked onto the station and looked up at the big clock.

I can't exactly describe it,

a sort of vague, uncertain kind of feeling.

I remember staring very hard at the clock,

so hard I can see it now quite distinctly.

The big white face, the black hands pointing

to a quarter past six.

But I remember a dazed, uncertain feeling

as I went for my train.

I had to think before I could recollect

the number of the platform.

Do you remember the journey home?

Not absolutely.

I was wondering if you're finished?

Oh, yes, yes, come in, Mrs. Preston, do.

- I'm not disturbing you? - No, no, not at all.

Come in, Janet.

Well, I can promise you one thing, Mrs. Preston,

your husband's quite well in himself.

A case of lost memory is disturbing naturally,

but there's no need to be alarmed.

What were you doing during the war, Mr. Preston?

Well, I was at the bank as usual.

I was an air raid warden down here.

Oh, well, you went through some bad bombing?

Oh, yes, we were right in fly Bomb Alley here, you know.

Can you remember any especially bad experience?

Well, there was that one in Elm Tree Road, David.

Oh, yes, had a pretty narrow squeak that night.

A fly bomb came down on a piece of wasteland

behind the houses.

I wasn't more than 100 yards off at the time,

so the blast was pretty bad.

I wasn't hit by the thing,

but I was deaf in this ear for some days.

Did you have medical attention?

I didn't think it necessary,

I felt all right bar the deafness, and that soon wore off.

So you know, a shock of that kind

can play funny tricks sometimes.

Oh, thank you.

We've had a lot of it since the war.

If only I could remember when it happened

and what I was doing all those hours.

We've accounted for the whole of yesterday

until Mr. Preston arrived at Cannon Street Station

on his way home.

Do you mean that he lost his memory

at Cannon Street last night

and stayed there until this evening?

Well, it is possible.

Oh, but wouldn't the station master

or somebody have done something?

You've no dim recollection of anything like that?

None whatever.

I think that's possibly what happened.

Your memory began to go wrong at Cannon Street

and you just wandered aimlessly away.

Yes, but where to for all those hours the whole night?

Well, that's something we don't know at present.

In the morning, after a good night's sleep,

you may remember some little thing

that'll piece the rest together.

The main thing is, you're home,

fit and well, and no harm done.

Naturally, you feel disturbed and worried,

but I'll send you round something

to settle you down when you go to bed.

Oh, I never take things like that.

Oh, it'll be quite harmless, just if you can't sleep.

And I'll look in at about 10 in the morning.

Oh, but I must leave for the bank before eight.

I promised the manager I'd be there early.

Now, look, I wouldn't go to the bank

tomorrow morning if I were you.

Have a quiet day, and don�t worry.

You know, Doctor, there's one thing

that's bothering me a bit about the bank, Doctor.

You know, it's practically certain I should be manager

of the Eastbourne Branch next year.

It's a good branch and a good appointment,

but it may affect things very much

if the directors hear about this.

You know, they're queer people, those directors.

Supposing I said there was some misunderstanding.

If I said I spent the night with friends

and my wife forgot or I forgot to tell her.

Well, that's entirely up to you.

I'm only concerned if I'm asked for the certificate.

Oh, but you won't be.

I'll ring the manager in the morning and explain.

I'm sure you'll support me in that, Janet.

I'll do whatever you think right, David.

I can't tell you how grateful I am to you

for the way you've helped me.

You know, a lot of doctors would have talked

a lot of big words and frightened me out of my life.

There's no need of that, I'm sure.

Still, if you'd like to see a specialist...

Good heavens, no.

Hello, Preston, I was just coming over to see you.

Oh, good evening.

You know Major Watson, Doctor,

the president of our social club.

- How are you? - Not too bad.

I met you at our Christmas dance, didn't I?

That's right, I came as a guest.

Have you roped him into as a member?

No, not yet, but I think he ought to be.

Fine, you put him up, Preston, and I'll second him.

It's the best club for miles around,

bridge, billiards, everything,

including a monthly brains trust.

We've just been running a sweepstake on the Cambridgeshire.

We've collected over 500 pounds.

Oh, that's quite a lot of money.

Well, goodbye, Mr. Preston.

Goodbye, goodbye, Doctor.

Nice chap.

Yes, he's quite a good fellow.

I was thinking only the other day

we oughta rope in a few doctors.

We've got a couple of chemists,

but doctors give a club more class.

What's he here for?

Aren't you well?

Oh, nothing much,

just a touch of tummy trouble, that's all.

I wondered why you weren't on the train this morning.

Have you been at home all day?

No, as a matter of fact, I spent the night with friends.

Something I had for supper disagreed with me.

I decided to spend the night with them.

I've only just got home.

You say you spent the night with friends?

Yes.

You mean, you slept the night with them?

Well, I've just told you,

some old friends on the other side of London.

I go there now and then.

I came to see you about that sweepstake money.

You went to the club last night and took it away, didn't you?

Robinson, the club steward, said you were there in the office at 10 o'clock.

You must have been pretty late for that dinner

with those friends of yours on the other side of London

if you didn't leave the club until after 10.

You did go to the club and take that money, didn't you?

I told you I spent the night with friends.

You mean to tell me that you didn't go to the club at all?

- No. - Good Lord!

What did the club steward tell you?

Whatever he told me was a lie

and the fellow's a dirty, rotten, low-down thief.

What did he tell you?

He came round to my house last night to bring me the keys

because he's going away on his holidays.

He told me that he put out all his lights,

but just as he was leaving, he saw a light in the office,

so he went in to put that out.

He found you there at the safe.

He saw that sweepstake money,

all those bundles of notes on a chair.

He said that you told him you weren't altogether

too happy about leaving all that money in that small safe

and were going to take of it till you paid out the prizes.

Do you mean to tell me that that's a lie?

I've told you, I wasn't there.

The dirty, rotten thief, had it all so smooth and pat.

I never doubted him.

He told me that you acted oddly, lost your temper,

told him to get out and mind his own business.

Well, knowing you never liked the fellow,

I didn't doubt that either.

You see why he did it?

In order to make me wonder about you

when we found the money had gone

and give him more time to get away.

And the scoundrel's had a clear day's start.

Are you certain the money's gone?

Certain, of course, I'm certain,

515 pounds of club money, members' money,

and the draw tomorrow night.

We must get the police onto him at once.

Where's your phone?

Major Watson, don't do anything tonight.

Don't do anything tonight?

What do you mean?

There may be some mistake, some misunderstanding.

How can there be a mistake?

The money's gone.

It may not have been stolen.

Well, it beats me.

You never liked the fellow and you never trusted him,

and now he's done the dirty on us, you try to cover him up.

Oh, I'm tired tonight, Major.

I've had a bad day, I'm not well.

Well, do you suppose I'm well after all this?

What are we going to tell the subcommittee tomorrow night?

Will you wait until the morning, Major?

Let's decide then.

And give him another clear night to get away?

Oh, it's very serious to accuse a man until we're certain.

I'm the club treasurer and I feel myself responsible.

I don't understand you.

I thought you were a businessman.

I'll ring you first thing in the morning.

I'll probably ring you before you ring me.

It's terrible, David, isn't it?

Well, how did you know?

Why, Mr. Thompson just called in, she told me.

But how did she know?

Why, I think it's all over the town.

What's all over the town?

Well, didn't Major Watson come to tell you?

Do you mean to say he hadn't heard?

Well, they found Robinson, the club steward, this evening

in that little wood by the pond on the common.

He's been murdered.

Murdered.

Hello, is that the police station?

This is Major Watson, president of the social club.

I wish to report the robbery of 515 pounds.

What'd you say?

Robinson murdered?

All right, take him away.

Right away, driver!

How much have you roped off?

About 20 square yards, sir.

Well, I don't suppose we'll find much tonight,

but we may as well have a look round.

I suppose these are the old dugouts,

- aren't they? - Yes, sir.

Oh, and tell the photographer

I want those plates first thing in the morning,

- will you? - Yes, sir.

The lads have had a good look around, sir,

but they've found nothing yet.

The ground's covered with leaves.

Well, we'd better leave this till the morning.

Oh, and tell the river police to drag the pond,

- will you? - Right, sir.

And see that you have plenty of men on duty,

otherwise we'll be having the whole neighbourhood

swarming in.

- Goodnight. - Goodnight, sir.

Park Road, please, Jones.

Good morning, Mrs. Preston?

Yes, that's right.

I'm Inspector Hemingway.

I rang up just now and had a word with your husband.

Yes, that's right, will you come in?

Thanks.

- Um... - Oh, thank you.

He's in here.

Good morning, Mr. Preston.

I'm Inspector Hemingway.

I spoke to you on the phone just now.

Yes, that's right.

- Will you sit down? - Thank you.

Lovely show of those Japanese chrysanthemums you've got out there.

Yes, my wife goes in for those.

How do you get such fine colours?

I manage to get a little good manure

from the riding school.

Oh, not much of the good old stable stuff

- about these days. - No, I'm afraid not.

You know, down my road, the milkman still calls with a horse and cart.

All the people with gardens wait with pails and shovels

hoping for a bit of luck.

That's one way.

The trouble is horses are so regular in their habits,

the same man gets it every morning.

Oh, it's a bit of a shock for you,

- this Robinson business. - Yes.

You're the treasurer of the club, aren't you?

Yes, that's right.

I suppose you knew him pretty well.

Well, only as the club steward.

He'd bring me the books, I'd check them over,

put the money in the bank.

Were they always in order, no trouble?

None whatever.

He wasn't a good bookkeeper,

there were small mistakes in additions,

but nothing deliberate.

Did he do everything in the club?

Well, there's a woman that does the cooking

and a little fellow that works in the kitchen at weekends,

but he was at the hospital during the week,

so Robinson was practically on his own.

What's the name of the cook?

Mrs. Pritchett.

And the other chap?

I can't remember.

Oh, well, I suppose I could contact him at the hospital.

Oh, yes, of course.

Major Watson told me rather a queer story.

I think he saw you last night.

Yes, he came in.

Well, from his account, this fellow Robinson

had some idea of involving you, Mr. Preston.

Yes, Major Watson told me.

Major Watson says that you spent that night

with friends on the other side of London.

Now, it's only a matter of routine,

but if you'll just give me the name and address

of the people you stayed with that night,

I can clear that up right away.

I, I spent the night with an old friend of mine.

His name is Wainwright.

Wainwright, would you give me his address, please?

17 Manor Road, Wembley.

Ah well, I won't keep you now, Mr. Preston.

You'll be needed at the inquest

because the story which Robinson told Major Watson

will come in as evidence,

but we'll let you know in good time.

It's rather bad luck on your club.

Were you insured against this kind of robbery?

No, they won't insure money.

Well, let's hope we get it back for you.

I suppose you couldn't spare a few of those chrysanthemums?

Why, yes, of course.

My wife loves a bit of colour round the flat.

We haven't got a garden, worst luck.

I'll ask my wife to cut you some.

You will?

Oh, thanks very much.

Well, I'll drop by and pick them up on my way home,

if I might, around about five o'clock.

I'll see they're ready for you.

Fine, well, we'll keep you informed.

- Goodbye, Mr. Preston. - Goodbye.

Well, what did he say?

I'll tell you in a minute.

Who are you ringing up?

Janet, please, I can't talk if you're here.

The inspector asked for some chrysanthemums.

Could you go out and pick them for him, please?

Well, then everything's all right?

Yes, yes, it's all right.

Hello, hello?

Is that Wembley 7294?

Yes, I wanna speak to Mr. Wainwright, please.

What? When did he go away?

Last Saturday?

But I must get in touch with him, it's very urgent.

Yes, but surely you know what hotel he's staying at?

Ah, I see, I see.

No, no message, thank you.

Did he say what colours he likes?

- Colours. - You said the inspector...

- What colours? - Wanted some chrysanthemums.

It doesn't matter now.

But, David, dear, only a moment ago you told me...

Just a few of each, it'll be all right.

Where are you going?

The doctor will be here in an hour.

No, I'll just go round to the surgery.

I think a little walk will do me good.

Why, Mr. Preston, come in, come in.

How are you this morning?

All right.

I was just coming round to see you.

- You know what's happened? - No, what?

It's in your paper there.

Oh, you mean that murder on Monday, your club's steward.

Yes, it's quite close to where I live.

Well, have you been able to piece things together at all?

No.

No small thought or memory that might help us?

No, there's nothing.

Well, supposing we try

running through things again quietly and slowly

and see whether perhaps...

Oh, why don't you just say what's in your mind

and done with it?

Now I know exactly what you're thinking.

Every imaginative person who suffers a lapse of memory

tries to fill in the gaps with all kinds of things.

If you hadn't read about this affair,

you'd have found something else,

a burglary or something, and let your mind prey on that.

You wouldn't be human if you didn't.

But it's absurd to connect this matter

with the club steward with yourself.

Why is it absurd?

Because a person who suffers a lost memory

still retains his own character, Mr. Preston.

If a criminal lunatic lost his memory,

he'd probably continue to behave like a criminal lunatic.

But a normal honest man will continue

to behave normally and honestly.

Supposing a normal honest man hated somebody?

Wouldn't he go on hating that person subconsciously

after his memory had gone?

But you didn't hate this man Robinson.

- I did hate him. - But why?

How can I explain?

From the very moment he came up to the club committee,

I disliked him, I opposed his appointment because of that.

I'm sure he found out that I opposed it.

Well, what made you do that?

How could I tell?

I never had bad feelings of any man in my life

except for him.

I disliked his type, his big fat body, pale flabby face.

Most of all, I disliked his eyes, the way he looked at me.

I don't suppose I had any good grounds

for opposing his appointment.

But did he prove himself to be the wrong man?

He did his work well enough.

The more I saw him, the more I loathed him.

I used to look forward to going to the club.

After he came, it was spoiled for me.

He had his eyes on me every time he came into the room.

I felt something evil and horrible about him.

I knew he'd glory in hurting me if he could

and was waiting for a chance.

Gradually, I got the feeling somehow

he was fated to ruin and destroy me.

You see, that's why I told you

to stay at home today and rest.

Imagination can play cruel tricks.

You don't suppose I'm suddenly imagining all this, do you?

For months now, I'd wake up in the night

fuming on what he'd done to destroy my pleasure in the club,

wondering what I could do to get rid of him.

But you've got to be sensible.

You never in your wildest moment thought of murdering him?

Well, naturally, I didn't.

Well, then, you're not very likely

to have murdered him on Monday night.

Do you know what happened on Monday night?

A few hours before he died, he told Major Watson

he saw me in the club taking the sweepstake money.

But you can prove you didn't do that either.

- How can I? - By common sense and reason.

If a man were desperately in need of money,

then it's possible he might be drawn subconsciously

to a place where money could be found.

That is possible.

Yes, if he definitely had theft in mind

before his lapse of memory.

But if you're going to tell me

you've been calmly planning robbery and murder

for the past few weeks, then I don't believe you

and I never shall.

And what's more, I can't help you,

because you're making no attempt to help yourself.

When you left me last night,

I thought I'd wake up this morning with everything clear.

But when I heard about his murder, I didn't dare sleep.

All night long, I never lost the sound

of the rain trickling outside

and the trains and the traffic in the distance.

It began to come, in little bits at first,

as you said it would, queer little disconnected things.

A chestnut tree, some thin strips of metal

tinkling like bells, a man's feet rustling in dry leaves.

One half of my brain fought against it,

the other side went probing on.

Suddenly, I remembered!

I was on a common, I saw every detail.

The moon was shining,

the wind was rattling these little strips of metal

the men hang around their allotments to scare the birds.

I saw the pond where the children paddle

and sail their boats, the long line of chestnut trees

with the dry leaves coming down,

and the two old dugouts under the mount.

I was walking along the asphalt path beside the pond

in a desperate kind of fear.

This man Robinson was following me in the dark,

creeping along like a fat Grey slug.

I went between the trees,

down the steps of one of the dugouts.

There was a pile of the sandbags in one corner

and some squares of that tarred roofing stuff.

I laid the money under a square

and I covered it over with sand.

All the while I could hear him out there

roaming about in the dead leaves.

I come up the steps and looked out.

I could just see him going into the wood and I followed him.

When did you first know he'd been murdered?

Last night when somebody called on my wife.

Did this person tell your wife how it was committed?

I didn't ask.

How did it happen when it came back last night?

I followed him into the wood.

I tore my mind away from it, it was too horrible!

You see, perfect autosuggestion.

Now doesn't that make you see reason?

You dreamt what you were told by your wife.

Oh, I wish I could believe that.

You added to that dream

what Major Watson told you about the money,

and you woke up when your information

about the details came to an end.

What makes you so certain I dreamt it?

Because it's the sort of dream a man would have

after your experience.

You told me my memory might come back.

You can't be so certain.

I can only weigh the two things together

and go for the one that's more probable.

If anyone were to ask me point blank

if I remember anything of those last hours,

I mean, if anyone in authority were to ask me on oath,

would it be honest to still say I remember nothing?

In your place, I certainly would.

If you were sure, then it might be different,

but you're not.

I'd give myself the benefit of the doubt.

The law does that in any case.

Whether it's honest, I don't know,

but that's what I'd do if I were questioned.

- I have been questioned. - When?

Just now, an inspector came around to my house,

wanted to know where I was on Monday night.

But you didn't tell him all this?

No, I didn't.

Did you mention this loss of memory?

No, I didn't do that.

You see, I told Major Watson

I spent that night with friends.

He told the police.

They wanted to know the name and address

of the people I stayed with.

I couldn�t very well go back on what I told the Major.

I'm afraid I wasn't very honest.

It all happened so quickly, I hadn't time to think.

Well, what did you say?

Well, I told him I spent Monday night in Wembley

with a man named Wainwright.

He's my best and oldest friend.

He'd do anything for me as I would for him.

I knew if I rang him up and told him

I'd told the police that I'd spent the night with him,

he'd say that I did without question.

Did he agree to that?

The caretaker answered the telephone.

Wainwright went on a motoring tour on Saturday morning.

He spent the weekend in the lake district.

He's somewhere in Scotland now.

I might have known something like that would have happened.

I'm afraid it's rather serious.

I'm sorry to drag you into a thing like this, Doctor.

You're a busy man.

You've got lots of people you ought to see.

What do you think I ought to do?

If I go to the inspector, what am I to tell him?

I wouldn't tell him anything if I were you

- until I've had proper advice. - In what way?

Well, I know the first thing I'd do myself

would be to get a good solicitor.

I haven't got a solicitor.

Do you know of one?

I'm going to take you around to mine,

Mr. Petherbridge.

It's a thousand pities that you felt it necessary

to mislead the police with an untrue statement, Mr. Preston.

Well, I was just going to explain.

Do you realise that you are asking

this friend of yours to commit perjury?

So are you for me or against me

in this, Mr. Petherbridge?

I'm afraid Mr. Preston has given the police

a tremendous advantage in making a false statement

of his whereabouts on Monday night.

I think there's something else in Mr. Preston's mind.

I told you that he had some impressions last night,

and personally I think it was a dream.

You mean concerning this money?

Yes, well, surely it's easy enough to find out about that,

simply by going to the dugout

and seeing whether the money's there.

I think that would be most unwise.

The police would have men on duty.

We should be inviting suspicion.

Yes, but it would settle Mr. Preston's mind.

That's not the important issue.

A dream which turns out to be imaginary

is no proof of a man's innocence.

Material witnesses and definite clues

are the factors that really count.

Excuse me.

You won't find the money there, you know.

We're not looking for it here, sir.

It's a man we're after.

He was in that office on Monday night.

Anyone would think the money doesn't matter

from the way that you're going on.

Do you realise it's the draw tomorrow night

and the race three days later?

Well, it won't affect the race, will it, sir?

I mean, they'll still have that.

If we don't get that money back,

heaven knows what's going to happen.

Ah, Inspector, there you are.

Any news of that money?

No, I'm afraid not yet, Major.

Well, Sergeant?

Inspector, there's something rather funny

I want to show you.

Do you see, this safe wasn't opened with a key at all.

- It was broken open. - Yes, I see it was.

Do you know last night I could have sworn

that Robinson did this.

Did Robinson have a key to the safe?

No, but Preston did.

What are you trying to say, Major?

Excuse me.

Major Watson speaking.

Oh yes, Wembley Police Station for you, Inspector.

Oh, thank you.

Inspector Hemingway here.

Yes, that's right.

Yes, oh, I see.

Right, thank you.

Well, I'm going round to see Mr. Preston now.

What about?

Only some flowers he promised to let me have.

Is there any personal property that you can't account for?

Any small things that you had with you

before you lost your memory that are missing now?

Yes, his gloves and a handkerchief.

I'm not certain about the handkerchief.

You see, he always carries two,

one folded in his breast pocket

and the other one tucked in his sleeve.

Well, the one in the pocket was there.

I'm not certain I had the other, I think I did.

Can you describe the gloves?

Brown leather, almost new.

Had the handkerchief your name on it?

My initials, D.H.P.

He may have left them in the train.

Yes, we must hope that he did.

Well, Mr. Preston, I suggest that we communicate

with the police at once and tell them

that you wish to correct your previous statement.

You will then recount to them

every detail that actually happened,

but nothing at all about what you may have recollected

or imagined since.

What will they do then?

I don't know, depends on the extent

to which they accept your husband's statement

that he did actually lose his memory.

Oh, but he did, we know that.

We have to prove it, Mrs. Preston.

We must engage the best possible counsel to defend you.

What will that cost?

I mean, a difficult case like this,

you will need an outstanding man.

If a person suspected of stealing can show himself

to be in good circumstances, in no urgent need of money,

then his position in the eyes of a jury is far stronger.

But I don't quite see what you mean.

I mean that an important counsel

commands a larger fee than a lesser man.

If you can show yourself in a position to meet that fee,

then automatically you show the jury

that you were unlikely to have stolen out of urgent need.

But what will that cost?

I should say that 500 guineas

would provide for everything.

I'm sorry to disturb you again, Mrs. Preston.

Is your husband in?

- Oh, yes, he's in here. - Thank you.

Good morning, Inspector.

Good morning, Mr. Petherbridge.

Mr. Preston has asked me

to act for him.

Well, Mr. Preston, I expect you know why I called again.

Yes.

Our Wembley station called at Mr. Wainwright's house.

Yes, I know.

Mr. Wainwright went on his holidays on Saturday.

Yes.

Well, if you knew that Mr. Wainwright had gone away,

I'm wondering why you told me you stayed with him.

I didn't know.

You mean you didn't know when you told me this morning?

That is correct.

If you'll excuse me, Inspector,

I think it would be...

Oh that's quite all right, Mr. Petherbridge.

Well, now, Mr. Preston, I wonder if you'd mind

just walking around to the station with me?

Now you know it's one of our routines

to take down a statement from everybody

and in any way concerned in an affair of this kind.

It's just a formality.

I've taken a statement from Major Watson this morning,

and I'll be taking quite a few more.

- I'll do anything you need. - It won't take long.

- Shall I be coming back? - Why, yes, of course.

Will it be all right if I come, too?

You wish to make a statement, Mrs. Preston?

Oh, no, no, but I think my husband

would like me to be there, wouldn't you, dear?

I mean, I'd like to wait for you.

No, I think I'd stay here, Janet, there's no need.

I imagine you were wearing

what you might call a city suit on Monday.

Yes.

Well, do you mind if we take that along with us?

And the shoes you were wearing?

It's just another bit of routine they make us do.

If you need them, I'll fetch them.

Oh, I'll come along up and help pack them.

I think I'll go up, too.

No, Mr. Petherbridge, if I tell you something,

will you promise not to say a word about it to my husband?

Certainly.

I think it will help you to understand.

You see, for a long time now,

he's been terribly in need of money.

It's not his fault, it was his father.

It all began years ago.

His father travelled round collecting money for his firm,

and then one day, he couldn't pay.

I think it was betting.

Well, David undertook to pay back

every penny his father had taken.

He borrowed some from friends,

and the rest he got from a moneylender.

Gradually, he paid back all his friends,

but the moneylender kept adding expenses and things,

until now it's nearly double what it was to begin with,

and he wrote a horrible letter

saying unless all the money was paid back,

he'd tell David's bank.

Well, now, I have a little money of my own, an annuity.

I wanted to sell it there and then, but David was furious.

I think it was the first real quarrel we've ever had.

He said nothing would make him use my money.

I see, if the police happen to ask

for any statement, Mrs. Preston,

I think you will be well-advised

to say nothing whatever about this.

Oh, yes, but you do see that we must pay counsel's fees

without David knowing.

He could never hope to pay them himself.

He'd rather not be defended at all

if he knew it came from my money.

Yes, yes, I quite see that.

You can be sure that personally I shall take no advantage

of your difficulties, Mrs. Preston.

Thank you.

Nice piece of material, isn't it?

- Yes. - Pre-war, isn't it?

Yes.

You haven't cleaned the suit since Monday?

No.

Oh, and now these shoes you were wearing.

Oh, yes.

Stepped into some mud, didn't you?

Mud?

I don't remember.

No, it's all right, thank you, Mr. Preston.

I'll never believe that David did this terrible thing.

They haven't said so.

It's possible they never will.

But they think it.

If not, why does the inspector

want to take away his clothes?

They only do that to criminals.

It's horrible.

Something they always have to do.

Oh, we're going along now.

You've no objection to my being with my client

when he makes his statement?

No, none at all, we'd prefer you to.

Well, we won't be long, Mrs. Preston.

Take this in to Sergeant Evans, will you?

Very good, sir.

This way please, Mr. Preston.

Sit down please, Mr. Petherbridge.

This is only an informal talk,

I don't intend to make any notes.

Now then, Mr. Preston, the caretaker

at Mr. Wainwright's house told our people

that somebody rang up for Mr. Wainwright

at about half past nine this morning.

Was that you?

Yes, I intended to ask Mr. Wainwright...

Oh, that's quite all right.

Only it occurred to me that you might have given me

that information by mistake,

that you might have stayed with Mr. Wainwright

some other time and got it mixed up

with a visit you paid to some other friends on Monday night.

Now when I saw you this morning,

I explained that I only wanted the information

to rule out the story which Robinson told Major Watson.

Now I'm not asking for a minute-by-minute account

of everything you did that night,

because a man can't very often do that

when he's suddenly asked.

For example, Monday afternoon,

I went for a walk in the park,

stopped and watched a football match,

but I couldn't tell anybody what time I stopped

or how long I watched the football.

Do you see what I mean?

I just want a rough idea.

Well, I can't tell you anything about my movements

on Monday night or anything about Tuesday

until I returned home in the evening,

because I had a lapse of memory.

I see.

Oh, hello, Doctor, what are you doing here?

Waiting to see the inspector.

Oh, I want to see him, too.

The inspector's got the club books

and there's a meeting of the subcommittee tonight.

Heaven knows what's going to happen.

Poor old Preston, I'd never have believed it.

But then you know, when you see their pictures

in the papers, it always is that sort of fellow, isn't it?

Well, have you any little, shall we say, gleams of memory?

Any little memories that couldn't belong to other times?

No, I've tried to think, there's nothing.

Well, did you have everything with you when you got back?

Nothing missing.

Well, anything found?

Anything, say, like a bus ticket or anything like that?

Anything that might show where you went or what you did?

I've been through all my pockets

in the hope of finding something and there was nothing.

Now about this safe, Mr. Preston,

do you happen to know how many keys there are to it?

Oh, yes, there are three.

Major Watson has one, I have one,

there's one at the bank down here.

Now I imagine you keep yours in a safe place?

I keep it with my other keys.

My office key, the key to the house,

this is the key to the safe.

Oh, that's all right.

Robinson, the steward, didn't have one then?

Oh, no, no need for him to go to the safe.

He has a till of his own.

You've got a key to the club itself, I suppose.

Yes, with the others, here.

Do you sometimes go around there

after the steward has closed up for the night?

Occasionally, I have a small office there.

Sometimes I've walked around after supper.

And you've no recollection at all

of having been there on Monday night?

None whatever.

Do you think they'll swallow this loss of memory idea?

Why not, it's true.

Hmm, but could a fellow do all that sort of thing

when his memory is gone?

Well, it's possible,

but I don't believe he did.

What do they call it, insane or something?

You're an old friend of his, hmm, Watson?

Well, I've known him for 10 years or more.

I roped him in when I first started my club.

Then naturally you want to do all you can to help him?

I wouldn't wanna make things worse for him

any more than you do, but I'm president of that club,

and I must get that money back.

Now, tell me another thing.

Supposing they let him off,

supposing they say that he's innocent,

would he be allowed to keep the money?

Why are you so convinced he took the money?

Well, it's bound to come out, so you may as well know it.

Preston was hard up.

He borrowed money all round the club.

I lent him 50 pounds myself.

But he paid you back.

Oh, yes, in time, but I've never known a man

get clear out of debt once he started borrowing.

Now, another thing, he hated that club steward.

He was always bringing up pity complaints about him

trying to get him the sack.

Now I'll tell you another thing, too.

That safe was not opened by a key, it was broken open.

Well, if Preston had a key, why do that?

You don't need a Sherlock Holmes to answer that one.

He broke it open because he had a key and Robinson hadn't.

And furthermore, he knew that Robinson

was starting for his holidays that night, see?

Well, I don't see anything

except a lot of chance things that might happen to anyone.

Aha, but you didn�t see his face when I told him

that Robinson had been round to see me.

He looked awful, and then he trotted out that story

about spending the night with friends

on the other side of London.

Now look, a man with a blank space in his memory

can say anything on the spur of the moment.

When I told him I was going to the police

about the robbery, he practically went down

on his bended knees and begged me not to.

Would a fellow do that if he didn't know something?

If Preston was at the safe and Robinson caught him there,

why let Robinson come round and tell you about it

before doing anything?

Ah, because he didn't know

that Robinson was coming round to see me.

I could tell that when I told him that myself.

I thought he was going to faint.

Now, put yourself in his place for a moment

and see what you would do.

You plan a robbery and try to plant it onto somebody else,

but the very man that you've planned to plant it on

catches you red-handed.

You tell him some story about

going to keep the money yourself, and he goes off,

but you don't know whether you've convinced him.

Then suddenly you remember

that you've broken open the safe yourself

in order to make it look as if he did it.

All right so far?

- Oh, yes, perfectly. - Okay.

You're in a hell of a jam.

Now you know he's got to go home and get his bag

and then catch the train to London.

You know where he lives,

you know the path he's going to take across the common.

How was the murder done?

Knocked on the head from behind, battered.

Yes, it does look bad for Preston.

But then if you tie a lot of chance things together

and throw in a bit of imagination,

it might look just as bad, even worse, for others.

- Oh, yes. - Even for you.

For me, that's rich.

Well, why not?

Supposing you wanted money.

You knew where it was just as well as Preston did,

and what proof have you got that Robinson ever came round

to your house that night at all?

Was there a witness?

- My wife was there. - In the room?

Oh, no, she was in bed, but she'd have heard the bell.

Oh, well, that's easy.

I mean, you could have gone out

and rang the bell yourself if necessary.

You see, we've only got your word

that Robinson came round that night and accused Mr. Preston.

Supposing you broke open the safe because you have a key.

At first, perhaps, you mean it to appear

as though it was an outside burglary.

But Robinson catches you red-handed.

All right so far?

Far from it, I was at the pictures on Monday night.

I only got back just before Robinson called.

Well, yeah, but can you prove it?

Did you go with anyone?

No, my wife doesn't like the pictures.

I always go by myself.

You see, no proof you were at the pictures,

no proof Robinson called.

You killed Robinson to keep him quiet.

Then you think of Preston.

You know it's common knowledge in the club

that he disliked Robinson.

You knew he borrowed money, good.

You go round to Preston's house to see how things are,

and by the grace of the devil,

you discover this lapse of memory

that makes even Preston doubt himself.

It's wonderful, you're clear!

Leave Preston alone and his own imagination

will do the rest.

Well, you've got quite a bit

of an imagination yourself.

But you make one big mistake.

In your over anxiety to set the blame squarely on Preston,

you talk against him so much

that you make the police suspicious.

They inquire into your movements

and find you can't prove a thing about that night.

I tell you, I was at the pictures.

When you tell the police that old yarn, they laugh.

I mean, everybody trying to prove a false alibi

says they were at the pictures.

There was one the other day.

- They're hanging him on Friday. - Oh.

Of course, I know perfectly well

you didn't have anything to do with it.

I'm only trying to tell you how easy it would be

for an innocent person to bring suspicion on themselves

simply by trying to incriminate another one.

- I never said I wanted to. - I know, I know.

I was just speaking generally, that's all.

Hello, old chap, if there's anything I can do for you,

- just let me know. - Thanks.

Would you come in now, please, sir?

No, not you, Major Watson, Dr. Sparling.

Would you mind waiting a few minutes?

I understand you wanna see the club's books.

I understand Mrs. Preston called you in last night

to see her husband.

Yes, about half past seven, just after he got home.

Now, this lost memory business,

can you tell me anything about it?

What makes it happen?

Well, in most cases, it's usually due to mental strain.

I mean, if a man suppresses it or keeps it to himself,

it keeps building up until the strain is too great

for the brain to bear, and then the mind shuts off

and stops working, or rather like a generating station

when the load gets too heavy.

In a case like this,

have you any way of telling if it's genuine?

Oh, you can, if you see the patient

when he's actually suffering from amnesia.

Well, if you don't see him until it's over,

then you've only got his word for it.

Well, you've got your own instinct and judgement.

I talked with Preston for quite a while

last night and again this morning,

and I'm certain that everything he told me was the truth.

Did he tell you that he spent that night

with a friend in Wembley?

When a man tells you a barefaced story like that,

it makes you wonder about the rest

of what he says, doesn't it?

Now you say that he saw you again this morning.

Yes, he came round to my surgery.

And on account of something he told you then,

you advised him to see a solicitor.

Well, it was because of his untrue statement,

I thought he should see a solicitor.

But was that all he told you?

It's all right, Doctor, I understand your position.

If you think that he made any kind of confession,

I can tell you at once he didn't.

Did you know that he was badly pressed for money?

Yes, I had been told so by a friend of his.

And that he had a violent dislike for this murdered man?

Now if he's as straightforward as you think he is,

why should he sit there desperately

trying to conceal something from me?

Look, your business is mainly with criminals, Inspector.

If you're dealing with an honest man...

It depends on what you call honest.

You know, we get quite a lot of fellows like Preston,

decent, respectable people who live quietly

and dig the garden and go for a walk on a Sunday,

perfectly good straight chaps,

except for the one little thing that brings them round here.

It doesn't make sense, does it?

- Tea's ready, dear. - Good.

I thought you'd like some toast.

Yes, that's fine.

I've been sorting out a few things this afternoon, Janet.

There's only the gas bill, the laundry,

and a small account from Roger's for the tulips.

I've written checks for those.

Well, I'm certain it won't be necessary, David.

Yes, yes, I know,

but I've always done these little things myself.

I wouldn't like you to be troubled

or confused if you were alone.

I'm sure there's no need, dear.

If they were going to do anything,

they would have done it already

when they had you at the police station.

But the inspector was so nice when he rang me up.

Yes, he's a nice man, I'm lucky.

He said to see you rested when you got home

and not to worry.

He wouldn't have been as cruel

as to say a thing like that if he'd meant anything.

Yes, he let me go home all right,

but he put a policeman to watch the house.

You imagine things, David.

There's often a policeman out there by the high street.

There's been one there all day,

standing under the lamppost.

You're just tormenting yourself, dear.

You know, if you were alone, Janet,

I wouldn't like you to live by yourself.

I was thinking perhaps your sister would care to come

or whether you'd go to her.

You see, your sister would have her pension

and you'd have your annuity.

- Are you listening, Janet? - Yes.

Well, it wouldn't be much,

but two women can always manage together.

You might even start up that kindergarten school again

like you had with her in the old days.

Would you do that, Janet?

I'd do whatever you say, dear, until you came back.

Well, I had a talk this morning

with the solicitor about that moneylender,

and there's nothing whatever for you to worry about.

He'd have no power to make any claim on you.

In fact, I don't think he can claim anything anyway.

I've paid him a lot more than he lent me,

and Mr. Petherbridge says a solicitor's letter

would settle it.

Now, I'm telling you this because if he should write,

don't answer it.

Give the letter straight to Mr. Petherbridge about all.

Don't dream of doing anything silly,

like trying to raise money on that annuity

and sending it to him.

- Now, you promise me that. - Yes.

I've written to the bank.

I want you to post that if they take me away.

I've explained everything

and I'm sure they'll do something for you,

after all the time I've been with them.

You mustn't talk like this, dear?

I can't bear it.

Yes, well, I couldn't bear it

if I had to go away without thinking

we'd arranged everything possible between us.

It's so simple sitting here by ourselves.

Afterwards, I don't think they'd let us be alone together.

But even if they did take you away,

they couldn't treat you like a criminal,

for Dr. Sparling said they couldn't possibly do that.

We wouldn't be human to blame you for something

that happened when you weren't yourself.

Oh, we've got to face these things, dear.

Even if they believe me

when I say I wasn't myself that night,

they wouldn't let me go, they couldn't.

They have a place for people who do things

when they're not themselves, and then we're not certain

they will believe I lost my memory at all.

But it's true, David.

- It is true, isn't it? - Oh, I swear that, Janet.

Those things you thought you remembered,

you mustn't tell them that.

Well, if they ask me in the court, I'm afraid I'd have to.

But Mr. Petherbridge said no.

He said not to in my statement to the police, that's all.

But you see, these people that cross-examine you,

they have a way of tearing things out of you.

They go on until they do.

I couldn't bear that, Janet.

At least, I can keep my self-respect,

and if I can do that, I don't mind what happens

as long as you promise to carry on and be happy.

How could I be happy?

By believing in me, dear,

by trusting me when I tell you

I didn't do this deliberately.

It would mean so much to me if you would do that.

Now, you start up that little school again.

It'll give you an interest and help you along.

In any case, you'll always have your annuity.

No one can ever take that away from you.

You'll never have to be dependent on anybody.

Well, I still think it'll never happen, David,

that it's your imagination all the time.

I took a lot of trouble with this toast.

You always knew the way to make toast.

You haven't slept or even rested properly

since you came home.

Go up and lie down and try to get some sleep.

Yes, I think that's a good idea.

At seven, we'll have supper,

and then why not go to the pictures?

It's our night, isn't it?

Why so it is, it's Wednesday, I'd forgotten.

They didn't say you had to stay in.

We'll say good evening to that policeman on the corner.

You see, he'll say good evening back

and not take a bit of notice.

And you'll wonder why you've been so silly.

Oh, I can't think why you're so good to me.

It's you who are always good to me.

You will go and try and rest, won't you?

Yes, don't you worry.

I would like you just to have a look at this account book.

Make sure you understand everything

and let me know if there's anything you don't.

Now, it's quite simple really.

What we receive here and the payments there.

Now, there's not much now, but there'll be nearly 100 pounds

when my salary comes in next week.

And now you don't owe anything.

Nothing.

We'll save up and go abroad again next summer.

Yes, we'll do that.

Draw the curtains and have a good sleep.

I've one or two things to tidy up,

and then I will.

I'll come up and call you when supper's ready,

then the pictures.

That'll be fine.

Oh, good evening.

- Does Mr. Preston live here? - Yes.

- Are you Mrs. Preston? - Yes.

Could I speak to Mr. Preston, please?

He's resting and I can't disturb him now.

But it's about this trouble, this murder.

You'd better come in.

You see, I'm really quite an old friend of Mr. Preston's,

and I thought I might be able to help him.

Why, I think I know most of my husband's friends.

Well, I expect you do,

but I don't suppose Dave ever told you about me.

- Dave? - Well, Mr. Preston.

He always lets me call him Dave, but I'm sorry.

Is he in trouble about this murder?

I mean, really in trouble?

Because if he is, I want to help him and I think I can.

Then you'd better sit down.

- You live in a nice house. - Yes.

You haven't told me your name.

It's Miss Dobson, Peggy Dobson.

I work with my brother and sister

at the Feathers, River Lane, just off Queen Victoria Street

in the city, you know.

The Feathers?

It's a public house, our own place.

What is it you want to say?

Well, I came down as soon as I could get away.

I only heard about this trouble at lunchtime.

My husband's name hasn't been in the papers.

How did you know he was in trouble?

Well, a young man who lunches at our place

comes from down here, and he told us

how they'd had Mr. Preston round to the police station.

Of course, we read about this murder in the papers,

but even if they had mentioned him,

we might never have known he was our Mr. Preston.

- Your Mr. Preston? - I know, it's funny.

We've known him all these years,

and we never knew where he came from.

We only realised him when this young man said,

"You know that fellow Preston that comes in of an evening,"

"well, they're after him for that Bromley murder."

And then I saw I'd got to come at once.

I thought things must be bad.

Yes, they are bad, but why did you come?

What's it about?

Well, everything, last Monday night.

You see, Mr. Preston's been coming to our place,

oh, ever since the war.

He just drops in of an evening on his way home.

Look, if you think there's anything in this,

you're wrong because there isn't.

I'm not the sort that goes after other people's husbands

and I never did.

I didn't suggest it, Miss Dobson.

No, but you're looking it, anybody can see that.

It's no use my talking to you if you aren't going to listen.

Why don't you call him down and let me tell him?

No, my husband is very tired and he's trying to rest.

Now if you've anything to say, you can tell me.

The Feathers is respectable.

You can ask anybody.

All he ever had was a sherry or a sandwich maybe.

Sometimes we'd sit round chatting in our private room.

Your private room?

Because he came before we opened, that's why.

Or sometimes we'd go into the saloon bar

and have a game of darts,

but he always left on the stroke of six

to catch his train to Cannon Street.

You say he's done this for a long time?

Oh, every evening regular.

Getting on for five years now.

Well, we thought he looked especially tired on Monday night,

so I gave him a Bovril sandwich with his sherry.

Then we went into the saloon bar for a game of darts.

We were laughing and joking,

and then the strangest thing happened.

There's a little truck that brings our sandwiches

from a place in Hornacy, but it was just starting off

when he had a terrific backfire,

you know, like a gun going off.

We all jumped because it startled us.

Mr. Preston did, too.

He turned his head quickly, and when he turned it back,

he looked different.

How do you mean, he looked different?

He looked round as if he didn't know where he was

and dropped the dart he had in his hand, and then he said...

Everyone, down to the dugout.

What dugout?

I don't know, we never had a dugout.

We always used the cellar in the war.

But it made us see what had happened.

We knew he'd been an air raid warden,

and he suddenly thought the war was still on.

Of course, we talked to him and told him it was all right,

but he just kind of mumbled and kept on shaking his head,

as if he didn't know what to do.

Why didn't you telephone and tell me?

But how could we?

We didn't know where he lived,

and there are crowds of Prestons in the telephone book.

Then opening time came.

Well, of course, we couldn't have him

sitting in the bar looking like that,

so my brother Joe took him up to the spare bedroom

and made him lie down, hoping he'd get all right.

After a bit, he dozed off, but it wasn't an ordinary sleep

because we couldn't wake him.

When the bar closed at 10, we all went up, all three of us,

and sat about up there talking

and wondering what we oughta do.

You could have sent for a doctor.

Oh, we did think of that.

We even thought of sending for the police.

He didn't have anything to help us,

no identity card or letters or anything.

But he was sleeping so peacefully,

we thought we'd better leave him

and see how he felt when he woke up.

No, thank you.

Well, Joe and I looked in twice during the night.

He was still sound asleep, but he woke quite easily

when I took him his cup of tea in the morning.

Still very odd though.

He still didn't know where he lived

or the place where he worked.

He didn't seem to care

or to want to think when we asked him.

He washed, shaved himself quite naturally with Joe's razor,

but his mind was still all mixed up with the war.

He kept on saying it was a quiet day with no alarms.

Or then he'd say... Listen, here's one coming!

Take cover!

He was thinking of the fly bombs all the time.

We gave him some breakfast

and made him stay quietly in his room,

but Joe said if he wasn't better by the afternoon,

we'd have to take him round to the police station.

You knew that his bank was quite close.

Why didn't you tell them?

We didn't know.

Of course, we knew he worked in a bank,

but we didn't know where.

He didn't discuss those things, and it wasn't our affair.

The doctor said it might be something like this.

Oh, what did he do the whole day?

He just sat about up there in that bedroom.

Soon after five, Joe said the only thing to do

was to take him round to the police station

and tell them what happened.

That was really the oddest part of all.

We went into the saloon bar, we all had a sherry,

and then he began to change.

He looked puzzled and restless.

And then he sort of braced himself up and said...

Well, aren't we going to finish our game of darts?

Come on, what are we waiting for?

Well, of course, we didn't quite know what to do at first,

but Joe thought it was better not to say anything

in case it upset him again.

You know, it was kind of uncanny,

standing around, you know,

trying to make jokes and ordinary conversation.

Bless me, time to go.

Goodnight, lad.

Well, of course, we hated the idea

of him going off like that alone.

But honestly, he looked so ordinary and natural

when he took his hat and umbrella off the peg

that we almost thought that we were the funny ones.

Oh, hello, Dave!

Why did you come here?

Well, I heard you were in trouble, Dave.

I should have told you, Janet.

Oh, never mind about that, dear.

Listen to what Miss Dobson has to say.

Well, I thought I'd better find out

where you lived and come down and try to help you.

How could you help me?

Miss Dobson says you spent the whole of Monday night

at their hotel.

You stayed the whole night at the Feathers, Dave.

When I tell them that, they can't go after you anymore.

No, I left your house at six o'clock,

as St. Paul's was striking six.

Yes, but you didn't.

I mean, not on the same day as you came in.

You didn't come out until this murder was all over.

I came into your house just after five.

It was exactly five by the office clock

when I left the bank,

and I left your house as the clock was striking.

The police know that.

The police never came near our place.

How can they know?

Well, because I told them

everything that happened just as I remember.

Janet, I came down to tell you something.

Upstairs in the bedroom, I suddenly remembered quite clearly

the people in the compartment as the train left Cannon Street.

It was an old man with a red flower in his buttonhole

and two girls, two girls reading books.

Dave, it doesn't matter what you say or think.

Directly I've been to the police station, your troubles are over.

Do the police know that you've come here?

Not yet, they jolly soon will.

You know what would happen if you went to them, how serious it would be.

You're not a child, Peggy, you realise the consequences?

Look, Dave, you don't understand

what's happened to you and you're not trying to understand.

Oh, I am trying to understand, Peggy.

I'm trying to understand why these terrible things

should happen to me.

What could make me think I could save myself

by dragging in my best friend, getting him to stand by me

and swearing I was in his house that night?

The police would have found him out

and he'd have been arrested.

That's what would happen to you if you went with this tale.

They'd call it perjury, you could go to jail for it.

Now, I want you to go home, Peggy.

You're dealing in dangerous things,

more dangerous than you realise.

Now you promise me that you'll go home.

Peggy, you must go at once.

Take her out that way, she can use the side door.

This man's from the police.

If he says anything to you, say anything,

but you know nothing about this, you understand?

Stay here.

- Good evening, Mrs. Preston. - Good evening.

- Is your husband home? - Oh, yes, yes, he's upstairs.

But first, I want you to hear

what this young lady has to say.

Well, I expect you're Miss Dobson.

I heard you'd come down.

I've been having a talk with your brother and sister

at the Feathers this afternoon.

Oh, you have, have you?

Well, Mrs. Preston, I'm sure it must be a relief to you.

You know, we never really thought your husband was involved,

but we have to check up on these things, of course.

Inspector, I want to make you understand,

ever since that terrible news last night,

my husband's thought himself to be a criminal

waiting to be taken away and locked up

for the rest of his life.

Can't you realise what that's done to him?

Yes, I can, Mrs. Preston.

I only wish it could have been avoided.

He's always lived so quietly,

only wanted to do his work and enjoy his evenings

and be happy with his friends.

A thing like this, well, it's nearly driven him mad.

He wouldn't even listen to what Miss Dobson had to say.

You've got to go up and convince him.

Well, that's what I came to do, Mrs. Preston.

But as far as your husband's concerned,

there's no more to worry about.

It's perfectly all right.

Oh, so it's perfectly all right, is it?

You think you can walk in here smiling

and everything is all right.

Anybody would think you were talking

about a lost dog that's come home.

Don't you realise you made him ill,

when you knew he hadn't done it?

Why couldn't you phone up from the Feathers and tell him so?

No, not you, you come sailing in, in your own good time

and let him wait, let him suffer.

What do his feelings matter?

All you fellows are good for is hanging around our place

at night waiting to see if anybody

has a glass of beer at five past 10.

Well, I'll go now, Mrs. Preston.

You don�t want me about.

I do hope he'll be all right.

- Goodnight. - Goodnight.

Thank you, oh, thank you.

Do you want me for anything else?

No, there's nothing, thank you.

You know where to find me if you do.

It's Peggy Dobson, the Feathers, River Lane.

I'm sorry, Inspector, but it was nice of her to come.

Now he's in his bedroom there.

Oh, I was just coming down.

I just came up to tell you

there's no more for you to worry about.

Well, it's perfectly true.

Now, you won't need this thing.

Come and sit down,

and I'll tell you all about it.

Well, to begin with, Mr. Preston,

we've got the man who did it.

As a matter of fact,

it was you who put us on the right track.

When you told me about the little chap

who worked in the hospital in the evenings

and the club kitchen weekends.

But the thing that had been puzzling us

was the coincidence of someone trying to plant a robbery

on a man the very night he's missing from home.

You know, it looks to me as if Robinson, the club steward,

and this little chap had planned to get that money,

maybe Monday night, maybe the next, I don't know.

But when they hear the club treasurer is missing,

well, it's a gift.

They break open the safe, share the money,

Robinson goes round to Major Watson

and tries to plant the thing on you.

Well, after that, it's the old story of thieves falling out.

Anyway, Robinson got a knock over the head,

the other chap took the lot.

Isn't it splendid, Mrs. Preston?

We've got all the money back bar two pounds ten.

That's fine, Major.

Of course, I always said your husband was innocent.

But if I were he, I'd prosecute that inspector.

Oh, tell him to be at the club tomorrow evening.

It's the draw.

- Goodnight, Mrs. Preston. - Goodnight.

I'm afraid it's caused you an awful lot

of trouble and anxiety, Mr. Preston,

but that's the sort of thing that might happen to anybody.

Oh, and here's a pair of gloves and a handkerchief

which you left in the spare room at the Feathers.

I believe your solicitor was a bit worried about those.

Well, I'll say goodnight now, Mr. Preston.

Well, goodnight.

Inspector, your flowers.

Oh, thank you very much, Mrs. Preston.

My wife will be delighted.