Original subtitles

so so

Janet.

Janet.

Oh,

David, darling, David.

Janet.

What on earth's 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?

But last night and all today.

Oh, Jerry, 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... Only

had to phone out of come straight home.

I'd be 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 been an ordinary day, dear, just like any other Monday.

Today's Tuesday.

Monday, darling.

It's Tuesday, David.

Oh, 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.

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

You know, you probably had an afternoon nap and dreamt that I didn't come home.

Well, 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 because 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 went 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, that'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, because 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...

I thought you'd missed the train at Cannon Street or the train was late for

some reason.

But then 8 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 9 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.

Oh, that's right, Janet. So I do at six.

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 a

fire. Speaking of himself when he said that.

Oh, about twelve 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 say I'd dreamt it all.

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.

What, do I look as if I've been wandering about all Monday night?

But where could I have washed? And shaved, eh?

What, 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're angry when I say you must have had a nap and dreamt it, but

what else can I think?

His papers are... 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, 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.

Good night, sir.

There's Dr Sparling calling on the prest.

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

I wonder if anything's wrong.

My husband is 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.

And then the bank manager rang up.

Oh, 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 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.

Yet I had a feeling he...

He was concealing something.

Oh? Well, it's a small thing, but he said he left his office last night at 6

o'clock, that he always leaves at 6, but the bank manager on the phone said he

leaves at 5 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 it. Oh,

of course.

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 realize that I'd 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'm certain he always has told me the truth.

All the years we've been together.

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

David?

Dr.

Sparling's here.

Oh.

Hi, good evening.

Good evening, Doctor.

Well, it's quite some 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. It 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 realize

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 unaccountable 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, talked of club affairs, the new tennis courts we're laying down, the

general meeting next month, 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 left the bank at your usual time?

Yes.

Yes. You did say anything I told you would be in confidence.

Oh, yes, absolutely.

I give you my word on that.

Well, there is one little thing.

It's just a harmless, trivial little thing. It couldn't possibly have

anything to do with all this.

But, um... You, um... 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 and 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've finished my day's work. So do I. Why not?

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. There's a little pub in a side street near the bank kept by a brother

and two sisters. They're very nice people.

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

Well, the younger sister, she's much the younger. Under 30, I imagine.

Yes, I know what you're thinking, Doctor.

Oh, not at all. Why should I?

She's perfectly harmless. She's full of fun, and I like her.

Well, 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 of five.

Well, I was rather disappointed to think this pleasant half hour would have to

end. It had opened till six, of course. I could scarcely hang about for an hour

waiting. So you went round to the side door. Yes, I used to do that at 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...

I just let her think I still worked at the bank until six, 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 really know 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. You 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. 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?

Just 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, then exactly one half cup more, things like that.

And you arrived at Cannon Street in good time for your train.

Yes.

Yes.

There is one curious little thing.

I don't even remember it if I wasn't searching around for something 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.

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'd 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?

Oh, 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 Flybomb 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 flybomb 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 anything, but I was deaf in this ear

for some days.

Did you have medical attention?

I didn't think it necessarily felt all right by the deafness that soon wore

off. Yes, well, 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 stationmaster 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'd just wander 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 your home. Fit and well and no harm done.

Naturally, you feel disturbed and worried.

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 ten in the morning. Well, I must leave for the bank

before eight. I promised the manager I'd be there early. Look, I wouldn't go to

the bank tomorrow morning if I were you.

Oh, 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 shall 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.

Oh, I forgot to tell her. Well, that's entirely up to you.

I'm only concerned if I'm asked for a 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. Oh, 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 that have talked a lot of big words and frightened

me out of my life. 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? 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 in 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 brain stress.

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 ought to 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.

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?

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

I told you I spent the night with friends.

Do 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? Well, he told me it 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 care of it till you paid

out the prices.

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.

Do you see why he did it?

In order to make me wonder about you, and we found the money had gone, and it

gave him more time to get away.

And the scoundrels had a clear day's start.

Are you certain the money's gone?

Certain? Of course I'm certain.

£515 of club money, members' money, and the draw tomorrow night.

We need to 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, you never trusted him. And now he's done the dirty

on us, you tried to cover him up. No, I'm tired tonight, Major. I've had a bad

day. I'm not well.

Well? You suppose I'm well after all this? What are you going to tell the

subcommittee tomorrow night? Will you wait until the morning, Major? Let's

decide then. Give him another clear night to get away? It's very serious to

accuse a man until we're certain.

I'm the club treasurer. 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?

And how did you know?

Why, Mrs. Thompson just called in. She told me.

But how did she know?

Oh, 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.

Hello. 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 do you say?

Robinson murdered?

All right.

Take him away.

How much have you roped off? About 20 square yards, sir.

I don't suppose you'll find much tonight, but you may as well have a look

round.

I suppose these are the

old dugouts, aren't they? Yes, sir.

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.

Oh, well, we'd better leave this till the morning.

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.

Arc

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.

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 colors?

Managed to get a little good manure from the riding school.

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.

Well, it's, um... 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 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?

There's a woman that does the cooking and a little fellow that worked in the

kitchen at weekends.

Well, 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 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.

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

You'll be needed at the inquest.

Because there's a story which Robinson told Major Watson will come in as

evidence. But we'll let you know in good time.

Oh, it's, um... It's rather bad luck on your club.

Were you insured against this kind of robbery?

No, they won't insure money.

Oh, 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. Well, 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 see they're ready for you. Fine.

Well, we'll keep you informed.

Goodbye, Mr Preston.

What did he say?

I'll tell you in a minute. Who are you ringing up?

Jane, 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? Then everything's all right.

Yes, yes, it's all right.

Hello? Hello?

Is that Wembley 7294?

Yes, I want to 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, Sherry, you know what hotel he's staying at?

I see.

I see.

No message.

Thank you.

Did he say what colours he likes?

Colours? You said the inspector wanted some chrysanthemums.

It doesn't matter now.

But, David, the only amount were to go, you told me. No, 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?

Know what?

It's in your paper there.

Oh, you mean that murder on Monday?

Your club's church. 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... Oh, why don't you say what's in your mind and done with it?

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 of 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 him.

Well, what made you do that? How can I tell? I never had bad feelings for 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 in, it was spoilt

for me.

I felt 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 at 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.

When I heard about this murder, I didn't dare sleep.

All night long, I never lost the sound of the rain trickling outside 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. Those little strips of metal

may only 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.

The two old dugouts under the mound.

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 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 came up the steps and looked out.

I could just see him going into the wood.

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?

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 auto

-suggestion. Now, doesn't that make you see reason?

You dreamt what you were told by your wife. Oh, I wish I could believe it. 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 round 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.

Fred, I wasn't very honest. It all happened so quickly. I hadn't time to

think. 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 priest 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 happen.

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. I was just going to explain.

Do you realize that you were asking this friend of yours to commit perjury? So

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. I'm not looking for it here, sir.

It's the 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 realize 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're still out

there. 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.

Inspector,

there's something rather funny I want to show you.

Do you see this safe?

It 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.

You see... 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 would 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.

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?

In 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 are 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. Featherbridge.

Mr. Preston has asked me to act for you.

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.

Sir, if you'll excuse me, Inspector, I think it would be... Oh, that's quite

all right, Mr. Featherbridge.

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

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. 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. 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.

Just another bit of routine they make us do.

If you need them, I'll fetch them.

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'll 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.

David had talked 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.

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 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

would 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.

You stepped into some mud, didn't you?

Mud?

I don't remember.

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

I never believed 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.

That'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 prefer you to.

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

Take this into Sergeant Evans, will you?

Very good, sir.

This way, please, Mr Preston.

Sit down, please, Mr Penbridge.

Now, 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 instance, Monday afternoon, I went for a walk in the park, stopped and

watched a football match.

I couldn't tell anybody what time I stopped or how long I watched the

football. You see what I mean? I just want a rough idea.

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.

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 in the subcommittee

tonight. Heaven knows what's going to happen.

old Preston. I 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?

Been through all my pockets in the hope of finding something. There's 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.

I imagine you keep yours in a safe place.

Keep it with my other keys, then.

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 round there after the steward has closed up for the

night?

Occasionally. I have a small office there. Sometimes I've walked round after

supper. And you've no recollection at all of having been there on Monday

night? None, whatever.

Do you, um...

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

Why not? It's true.

But could a fellow do all that sort of thing that his memory's 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, Watson.

Well, I've known him for ten 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. Well, you don't want to

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. Did he pay 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 plumb steward.

He was always bringing up... Pity complaints about him trying to get in

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?

Doesn'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?

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.

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, 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 the 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 in.

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.

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, 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. Yeah, but can you prove it? Did you go with anyone?

No, I... 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 kill 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.

You've got quite a bit of 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. Sparty.

Would you mind waiting a few minutes? I understand you want to see the club's

books.

Yes, in the... I understand Mrs. Preston called

you in last night to see her husband.

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

Now, um, this lost memory business... Can you tell me anything about it? I

mean, 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.

But 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 judgment.

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 bare-faced 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 out of my surgery.

And on account of something he told you then, you advised him to see a

solicitor?

Well, it was because of this untrue statement.

I thought he should see a solicitor.

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, sir, 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, depends what you call honest.

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

Decent, respectable people who live quietly, dig the garden, go for a walk

on a Sunday.

Verply good straight chaps.

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

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 Rogers 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'd 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. Well,

it wouldn't have been as cruel as to say a thing like that if it 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 up there by the high street.

There's been one there all day, standing under the lamppost. Oh, 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 money

lender. You know, 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. Above all, don't dream of doing anything

silly like trying to raise money on that annuity and sending it to him.

You promised me that.

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, but 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. Or

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

It wouldn't be human to blame you for something that happened when you went

yourself. 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'll 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'll 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'll mean so much to me if you 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 hates 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.

But you were always good to me.

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

Don't you worry.

I... 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 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. If I want two things to tidy up, then I

will.

I'll come up and call you when supper's ready, then the pictures.

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.

Then 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.

Well, I think I know most of my husband's friends. Well, I expect you

do. 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. The 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'd 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 realized it 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 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 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 in. 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.

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 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 at 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 specially 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 Hornsey.

Well, it was just starting off when he'd 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 a cellar in the war.

But he 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. You see, we 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 ten, we all went up, all three of us, and sat about up

there talking and wondering what we ought to 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 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, he'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.

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 around 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.

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... I should have told you, Janet. Never mind about that, dear. Listen to

what Miss Dobson has to say. And 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. Aston 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?

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. Look, 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 realize 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 realize.

Now, you promised me that you would 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?

Oh, stay here.

Good evening, Mrs Preston. 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 lunatic waiting to be taken away and locked up for the rest of

his life.

Can't you realize 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.

He only wanted to do his work and enjoy his evenings and be happy with his

friends. A thing like this would have driven him mad.

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

You've got to go up and convince him.

That's what I came to do, Mrs. Preston.

And 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 think you were talking about a lost dog that's come home?

Don't you realize you made him ill?

When you knew he hadn't done it, why couldn't you fill it up from the

feathers and tell him so? No, not you.

You come sailing in in your own good time, let him wait, let him suffer. What

do his feelings matter?

All you fellas are good for is hanging round our place at night waiting to see

if anybody has a glass of beer at five past ten.

Well, I go now, Mrs. Preston. You don't want me about.

I do hope he'll be all right.

Good night. Good night.

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.

Why? 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.

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 around and Major Watson tries to plant the thing on you.

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.

Good night, Mrs Preston. Good night.

I'm afraid it's caused you an awful lot of trouble and anxiety, Mr Preston, but

it'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 with the feathers.

I believe your solicitor was a bit worried about those.

Well, I'll say good night now, Mr Preston.

Good night.

Inspector, your flowers.

Oh, thank you very much, Mrs Preston.

My wife will be delighted.