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Is someone there?
It was you? I wondered what was going on.
We just arrived.
Oh.
Good evening, sir, ma'am.
They could close the door.
Yes?
Julian is me. Ah. It is you, Mr. Decrey.
It was over.
The hard part was done.
Now, I was impatient to be with Gloria.
I needed her.
It all started some 3 months ago...
I returned from hunting a day earlier than I'd planned...
but glad to be able to spend a Sunday with her.
No, you know it's impossible! No, not to Paris either...
It is not possible!
Now, be nice and go.
I'll call you tomorrow. - Okay, darling!
It's odd. I felt no pain...
but an empty feeling,
as when the elevator goes down too quickly.
Are you alone?
Are you alone?
Huh?
Yes.
It's sad to be alone. - You're telling me.
Buy me a drink? - If you want.
One champagne.
Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
As this poor little thing said, it certainly was sad.
Gloria had been my wife for 8 years.
I thought I'd given her everything.
A rose for the lady?
You're being spoken to!
300 francs, sir.
Thank you.
Thank you. You're a sweetheart. - Listen, be nice and go away.
Leave me.
How long had Gloria been sleeping with him?
Now I knew what I felt... I need to hurt them!
From now on, in this hotel room, where I decided to stay...
I was no longer alone.
A thought lived with me. A little idea to keep me company.
Come in.
Will you lunch here?
I don't know. I'll tell you.
Have Louise prepare something for the return of Monsieur.
Fine, madam.
You are home already? - Yes, Gisele.
Madame is in her room? - Yes, Sir.
Hello?
Hello. - Back already? What happened?
Berger had an accident.
Nothing serious. He got some lead in his backside.
How are you?
Alright. So, you're spending Sunday with me?
Are you happy? - Sure.
I'll tell Jerome to get my things from the car.
It's Sunday. Naturally, long distance doesn't answer.
I'm calling about Berger. Aren't you getting dressed?
No. I'm going to see Louise about lunch.
Well then, I'll change.
Give me the phone, I'll try again.
Hello? - Gloria?
What number do you want? - Gambetta 24-26.
Wrong number... this is Gambetta 24-26.
Oh, sorry.
It was almost funny, and it was only beginning.
"Yes, Prince..."
I languish, I burn for Theseus."
"I love him, not one whom hell has seen descend,
Good. I pass.
"But faithful,
"proud and even a little shy."
How well you'd have played Phaedra.
You should have stayed on at dramatic school.
I didn't have the sacred fire like you. Come on, learn your part.
You see what "sacred fire" gets you... nothing!
Thumping a piano at Ghislaine's to survive.
What about Lajara's offer?
Playing the fashionable winter hotel circuit? Great!
A pipe-dream of Lajara's. - But the other night he was sure.
In the bars, everybody's sure.
The difficulties start afterward.
Oh, what's that?
Leave it. I confiscated it from a morbid friend.
It's past 8! I must go home! Quick, finish the scene.
"It was your eyes..."
No. I'm late. - Madame's giving a big dinner?
Yes, an important diplomat's coming.
What do I care?
Remember at the dramatic academy...
we swore we'd live together...
on love and water?
Yes, and 5 days later you disappeared.
I was offered a tour of North Africa.
A tour and a mistress!
I didn't love her. She was a mirage.
And I met Jacques. Well, that's all past now.
The money, the high life, security...
Women just adore security.
Are you starting that again?
Gloria...
I won't say it anymore.
Forgive me. It's stronger than me.
I love you.
If I had money, I'd keep you.
If you had money,
you'd gamble, you'd drink, but you wouldn't keep me.
Come, behave yourself and study your part.
But it was a real man, himself.
Thank you.
The political situation is absolutely tragic.
When was the political situation in France not tragic?
Perhaps the Second Empire, before Sedan?
That time has passed. - And it's not better.
What does our brilliant young industrialist think?
I was a brilliant young industrialist alright...
but I didn't give a damn about the political situation.
Gloria was late. Shamefully late.
She had spent the afternoon with him.
Only one thing restrained my impulse to hurl at them my exasperation:
a small white glow in the letter box at the end of the garden.
She didn't even bother to excuse her lateness.
She had the letter.
She was laughing, but I knew that soon she wouldn't laugh.
Sorry about my wife's tardiness.
Women hate to be kept waiting themselves.
It's an exquisite torture they reserve exclusively for us.
Everything's forgiven, right? - Almost everything.
The hunting party ended tragically?
Some pellets in the buttocks, that's all.
But I'll remember it, alright.
I was lying in wait at the edge of a small wood...
I was trying to make them laugh...
though one day they'd learn that at this hunt...
I was the one who'd been killed.
I can't find any excuse for my inexcusable lateness.
Your lovely dress is excuse enough, Madame.
She was carrying it off better than I thought she would.
But I could see the strain she was under.
The machine had started its work. Now to wait for the spring to uncoil.
Hello. - Hello, sir.
Do we still have poor Berthier's old passport?
Yes.
When was his last trip to Spain?
About 2 months before his death. - Bring it to me.
Send Lombard in.
Hello, Lombard. - Hello.
The Chataignier invoice is fantastic! 3, 400,000 for the wall of Building B?
The bricks are expensive. The bill seems okay to me.
Better check it.
I count on you.
Thank you, Madeleine.
Thank you.
You got 20,000 franc bills?
They refused to change my date.
What nerve! It is the settlement.
So I said to him:
"What rules? They're stupid rules! My husband works nights..."
"So if I have my vacation in September, his in October..."
"What kind of married life is that?" - Stop talking! Hurry up!
Raymond said: "Do not get carried away."
"Bertier, Louis"? - Yes.
Nothing under that name, sir.
Nothing. There was nothing. They weren't afraid yet.
"I could inform your husband of your adultery with Mr. Yves Norman.
Unless you'd prefer to send me 200,000 francs addressed to...
Louis Bertier, West Street."
Signed, "A friend who doesn't especially wish you well."
You worry for nothing.
Maybe from some maid you fired. Did you?
Yes, a few months ago.
There! An ex-maid's farewell... forget it.
6:15, late again! Twice Ghislaine's talked the boss out of firing me!
There it is!
I have no change. Pay the cab.
Goodbye my love. - Goodbye, my darling.
Quickly. Gare Saint-Lazare.
You women are always late.
She was late. She was always late now.
But it almost made me happy...
because they were doubtless trying to raise the money.
Still, she was relaxed and even laughing.
I hated her for that.
Maybe my threats didn't move them at all.
I felt doubly deceived. I needed a better way.
Mr. Mauvin? - Yes, come in.
Over here, sir.
Sorry.
Here.
Sit down. - Thank you.
I'm listening, sir.
You can make any request.
If it's impossible, I'll say so and we'll forget it.
It may be impossible because I'm not equal to it...
or because the risks are, well...
too great.
If it's possible, there are two types of cases: easy or difficult.
If it is difficult, I am exacting.
Very exacting. You see? That is clear.
My case is quite an ordinary one.
Adultery? - Yes.
I can tell.
You have suspicions? - I've much more:
I know the identity and address of the lover.
Really? The work is half done.
But then, what do you expect from me?
Material proof of their affair.
And what would that be? - Pictures leaving no doubt...
about the nature of their relationship.
I see.
To get a divorce? - No.
Let's say for a family album. I love the memories.
Is it possible?
Possible, of course...
but difficult.
How much? - What's your idea?
I haven't any idea.
50000 francs? That's good, right?
Alright, 100,000.
The balance when I have the pictures. - Thank you.
Here's the gentleman's address...
and my office address.
I hope I'll get quick action.
You can count on me.
Our reputation is based on speed.
Men who have been deceived for 10 years,
have learned of it from me in 24 hours.
Another cuckold?
Yes, but a cuckold who strikes back...
and enjoys doing it. Very rare case and most interesting!
The Sherlock Holmes of the Rue Saint-Denis!
You got a retainer, too?
Take it easy. You're getting pretty extravagant.
Hey, Josiane...
there's something I'd like to know.
You got back late last night. Where were you?
Ask your agency. That's your job, isn't it?
Women!
Aright, the other guy's wife will pay for it!
The boss is sure on edge lately.
I never found him very gay. - I mean more on edge than usual.
Where's that file? - I'll bring it to you, sir.
Seems obvious...
increase the work schedule and double the crews.
I need time for myself.
What about the deliveries to Movaco?
They changed specifications...
so delivery was held up. - That's your problem, not theirs.
He's here? - Yes.
In a minute.
Go over the rest yourself. - But there's a...
Not now!
Hello, sir. - Have a seat.
Well? - Well, here it is.
Is that what you wanted?
Exactly.
The photography isn't as clear as I'd have hoped...
but the working conditions were unique.
Sure.
I couldn't use a flashbulb, could 1?
This enlargement is rather good, I thought.
An artistic point of view, no?
Is that correct?
Yes. Thank you.
You won't be needing me anymore?
No, thank you. - At your service.
I had the pictures.
One hurt me particularly.
It reminded me of a photo taken early in our marriage.
Only the man with Gloria wasn't me, that's all.
Hello. - Hello, my love.
What are you doing here so early? It's not like you to arrive early.
Expecting a baby? - For my sister.
The only ones I'll ever have. It's her fifth.
Give me a scotch. - "Give me" is right!
When will you start paying? - When I'm a customer.
I'm in trouble, Ghislaine.
I'll listen to your heartaches,
but that's all I can afford.
Leon's getting nasty. I have to calm him down.
Well, hold his hand, then. - It's no joke. He doesn't understand.
But you do. - Alright, so I do.
But he and I are through.
Ask your sweetie. She's got money.
Her husband, yes, but not her.
She's got her own troubles. Someone's blackmailing her.
Over what? - I'll tell you later.
Come on, be nice.
Lend me 50,000 francs so Leon will be patient.
What are you doing here? - I've been looking for you.
Come.
Not bad!
That's not all.
It is more serious than you thought.
What can we do? - We need to send the money!
That would be an admission! - But otherwise, Jacques will be told!
Then you will stop looking at your watch.
You're unconsciousable.
You're afraid he'll kill you? - No.
Or that you'll lose your furs?
I'll tell you... You're afraid of hurting him.
Perhaps...
This style takes into account...
changes in the lives of women.
It's lovely. Do you like it?
Si
Not the white collection, but these little suits...
As a matter of fact, I wanted to tell you...
I'd like to get 1 or 2 things.
Go ahead. I'm that rare husband who encourages spending.
Have I ever refused you anything? - No.
But you see, darling...
"Darling?" That sounds expensive.
Charge your order to the office. - You're a dear,
but I would prefer cash.
That way I can shop and take it with me. I like doing that.
It is fun. It's a bauble.
Why not, if it amuses you. How do you want? 100,000 francs?
Well, you know the big fashion houses... 200,0007?
Somehow I knew you'd want 200,000 francs.
It's easy to be generous when you're sending money to yourself.
Suddenly I felt how futile...
how foolish what I was doing was.
She had yielded. I felt an immense pity for her,
an irresistible need to see her, to embrace her.
I would like Gambetta 24-26, please.
Hello? Gambetta 24-26? Call for you. Booth 3, sir.
Hello? Gisele? Let me speak to Madame.
At the hairdresser?
No, no. I know. Thank you. Goodbye, Giselle.
I used to pick her up at her hairdresser's,
the first year of our marriage.
Now I snapped back to reality.
I'd had a ridiculous moment of compassion. It was over.
"Dear Madam,"
"I forgot to include in the last bill..."
"The cost of photographs."
"These amounted to 500,000 francs which I'd appreciate..."
"You sending as you've done before."
"If I don't receive payment within 3 days..."
"I'll be forced to seek recovery of this amount..."
"From your husband."
Signed, "A friend who begins to wish you well."
Jacques...
I must confess something.
Confess?
Yes.
I know it's going to hurt you.
Jacques... - Well, speak up, for God's sake!
In the name of God, speak! - Don't shout. You frighten me.
My bracelet... your 5th wedding anniversary present, I lost it.
I still had illusions...
For a moment, I thought she would tell me everything.
In fact, she had sold the bracelet to get money.
It had a safety chain, too. - You probably forgot to close it.
I went to the police. - What did they say?
Try "Lost & Found," they said. - For a 300,000 franc bracelet?
Human honesty manifests itself in returning old umbrellas.
Was it worth so much?
The jeweler who bought it doubtless had gypped her.
You got one today, a fat one! Plenty to read, eh?
This idiot thought that they were love letters.
This comedy was getting sinister.
120,000! She got gypped even more than I thought.
Selling the bracelet proved they were desperate.
I had to grind them more. Return the money... a master stroke!
Miss, may I have a money order form?
Here, sir.
"Madame, I return your partial payment."
"I expect full amount by Thursday."
Finally, some income! Someone sent you money?
Suzanne, I lent her a little.
This is excellent coffee.
Hello? Yves Normand?
If you have any influence over your mistress,
Ms. Decrey,
advise her to send me quickly the sum I requested.
Otherwise, I will be forced to take drastic measures.
Understood?
He's some character, that guy!
Those photos? That's the worst!
She has no ideaโ?
It's continuing. - I know.
How?
He phoned me. - You?
He advised me to put pressure on you.
It's getting serious, alright. - He returned the 120,000.
He wants the whole amount. I don't know where to get it.
If only I could help. - What will we do? It's abominable.
Even if we send it, he'll keep asking for more.
You shouldn't have answered his first letter. - Maybe.
Now what do we do?
Wait, I was just talking about it with Ghislaine...
Wait a second?
We need 500,000 francs by tomorrow or we're in big trouble.
She does not know where to get the money.
Let her ask her husband. - That's impossible!
500,000 for not knowing one is a cuckold is cheap.
I beg you. This is serious.
Maybe there is a way...
Three times I'd been to the Post Office. There was nothing.
Then, the clerk handed me a strange red envelope...
of an unusual size.
Why did it contain only a blank sheet of paper?
Thank you.
I'd like to send a telegram.
No, leave him to me.
And a can of oil. - Yes, Sir.
Hello, Mr. Louis Bertier. You know who sends us.
Who are you? - Don't start anything.
My pal in the car is even tougher than I am.
How much? - 3400.
Keep the change. We're in a hurry!
We'll find a nice, quiet place to talk.
Look out or I'll hit you!
Take the 1st right.
You'll reach the docks. It's quiet there.
You're writing a lot lately...
and annoying some people who have hired us to share their annoyance.
So we decided you suddenly forgot how to write. Do not make us liars!
Next time, we won't be so nice.
Don't laugh. We're serious!
As proof, we're noting where to locate you, in case you haven't understood.
License number? - In my address book, underlined.
Now, your driver's license and identity card.
Come on, give.
We don't think your name is "Bertier". And we want your address, too.
You really want it?
Your name is "Decrey? - Let's see.
You're related to the lady?
I'm her husband.
You're the husband? - Yes.
Oh, shit.
So you're the letter writing cuckold? - Shut up, you ignoramus!
He's a far-sighted man, a subtle type. - Put yourself in our place.
No, that will get you in trouble.
I've memorized your license plate.
So, if you don't mind, I'll make the decisions now!
You make me mad! - That wouldn't be reasonable...
and the gentleman is reasonable.
Okay. But no tricks, or we may get mad after all.
We're listening. - How much did my wife give you?
Don't add any zeros. I know what she had.
100,000 francs. - Incredible, but let's say so.
I'll give you double if you join my side.
Okay? - Ghislaine will raise hell, Mario.
We'll explain, she'll understand. We understood, didn't we?
All right, Mr. Decrey. - Here's what I expect of you...
When does the Post Office close? - Don't worry.
Ghislaine's pals are handling it, relax.
Hello?
Ghislaine, we waited for nothing. He didn't show up...
for 2 days. They will think we're casing the Post Office.
We're blowing. The show's over.
No, Mario, you can't. Go back tomorrow!
I told you, he didn't come. He's suspicious of something.
We can't do this for peanuts. - Go tomorrow and we'll talk about it.
No one showed up and they want to quit.
They are tired.
So they're holding out for more.
They're going back tomorrow.
Everything is going wrong. This man is stronger than us.
I'm afraid. I do not know why, but I'm very scared.
It's odd that he's suddenly suspicious as if he's been warned.
Does anyone else know?
It's just you and Yves who know.
Alright. We'll see tomorrow.
I've got to go home.
A whiskey.
A whiskey.
Yes, sir.
You're Ghislaine?
The guy who didn't show up at the Post Office is me.
So? - You like to play poker?
I do not play cards. - Why?
It bores me and I never win.
And if you were sure to win... a lot?
It's all over between you and Norman, you know.
Who told you that? - Your Post Office buddies.
They work for me now. - The scum!
No. Life, after all, is hard.
And they weren't exactly on a crusade.
I'm not after Norman. I just want him...
to leave my wife alone.
Gloria is your wife? - Yes.
See? I'm playing poker with you and I'm showing my hand.
I don't understand.
That's unnecessary in poker.
It's all about intuition.
If Gloria could believe that this blackmailer was a gigolo...
who always needed money...
and has found an ingenious way to get it...
It's really nothing...
just a nuance...
She'd doubtless become disgusted with him.
Me, I would pay a lot for her to become disgusted with him.
All this isn't very pretty.
What my wife is doing is prettier?
If you think I care about her... - Precisely, get your revenge.
What can you lose?
Talk isn't everything.
If I were in her place...
I would need proof.
I'll get it. Do you have a phone token?
You're ugly, cheapskate, and you're a cuckold!
Hello? Yes? - I am the wife of a cuckold!
Yes, sir. It's not impossible.
Yes, I am. I will follow you.
Follow me why don't you, instead of other men's wives!
Show some concern for your own wife!
Hang up! I'm talking to you! - Hello? Yes!
That's wonderful! Count on me, Mr. Decrey.
I'll call tomorrow morning without fail.
Ah. Finally. Maybe you'll listen to me now!
Maybe you don't mind being a cuckold, since you've always been one.
You're bragging, my love. - You believe that?
Look at yourself.
Skunk! You're all skunks!
If you only knew the trap we're setting for that little wretch.
I'd work on a case like this for nothing!
Oh! Damn and drat!
Yves isn't the accident prone type.
He's more likely to be in a taxi than under it.
If he's late, he could have phoned.
I'm scared to death.
If I'd died every time he was late, I'd be dead a long time ago.
Did you know him well before? - A little, yes.
Were you his mistress?
Such questions like this between women...
always end in stupid scenes.
Let it go.
One thing is sure, that he loves you...
and probably never loved anyone else.
I can't make him out. I sometimes wonder who he really is.
You are not the first who's wondered. If it's any consolation...
I think he wonders, himself.
Yves is a tiny bird on a branch...
gentle, singing, whistling, carefree...
but you never know where it will settle down.
Oh, damn! I'm not getting anywhere with this knitting.
I'm not used to it.
For the form point, you knit two then purl two?
No, you knit all. - Poor kid. He'll look a mess in this!
What an aunt he's got! - I'll finish the row.
Imagine, knitting in Freddy's bar!
Suppose the mugs who come here at night for the atmosphere...
saw us knitting away?
You just have to continue. Look closely.
Thank you. You're very nice.
Between women, one good turn deserves another...
Be on your guard with Yves.
Why?
I can't knit, but where men are concerned, I know.
My passion is discovering young talent.
Someone told me about you. - Oh yeah?
I forgot who it was.
Pernigini? - No.
Meunier-Dufort? - No.
Ah. Levy.
Which one? I know several. Yes. That must be him.
Anyway, if you're interested you'd be ideal for the part.
Two weeks in Brussels and maybe Liege, Ghent, and Namur, if we have success.
Who will play the role of Camille? That's very important.
Martinelli. - Of the Comedie Francaise?
I hope we can get her. She's expensive.
That's why I can only offer you 8000 francs...
and expenses.
You know, my interest is art, not business.
It's both my strength and my weakness.
The pay is little, but it is a great part!
Be a success in Brussels, and you're launched, my boy!
If you sign right away, in 3 days, 4 days at most...
I'll give you an advance.
An advance, how much?
Because, frankly, right now I need...
He always needs money, and he's got a weak character.
He's not bad, just weak. Haven't you noticed?
How can you help noticing it?
That's what I liked about him.
But not everyone's a sucker like me.
Should I add blue ribbons? - That would be pretty.
And if it's a girl? - You change ribbons.
Right, you see, you never know exactly who you are dealing with.
What do you mean? - Nothing.
Yes, you do! Out with it!
You know, it's you who's been asking questions.
Can I say somebody went to the Post Office if no one went?
Isn't it odd that nobody showed up as soon as we had it watched?
As if the blackmailer knew he was being watched.
Who else knew about the trap other than Yves?
You have to be logical, my dear. - No. That's impossible.
It would be too awful.
There are lots of things in life which are awful.
The good and bad things together make up life.
Sometimes, when he falls asleep beside me...
and I look at him...
sleeping with his smug little smile...
and I wonder where he is.
Don't worry, he's probably at the track.
Your rival is some long-shot filly.
You make me doubt and now I'll never know.
Never.
Only if you don't want to know!
Otherwise, there is a very simple way.
You never think of practical things.
Send some money to the Post Office.
Your blackmailer's bound to return sooner or later...
when he sees he's no longer being watched.
Note the serial numbers on the bills...
and whoever you suspect got them...
check the numbers somehow, in his pockets or wallet.
How dare you!
I was wrong to confide in you.
How much do I owe you? - Nothing.
If he calls, tell him I waited as long as I could.
We'll continue tomorrow. Good evening, Lombard.
Goodbye. See you tomorrow.
Gloria? Why are you here?
I was waiting for you.
I was in town, and I thought you could drive me home.
It annoys you?
What a charming surprise!
You needed me? That's an event!
You're not ill? - No.
A little unhappy, perhaps? - A little.
For no special reason, of course. - No special reason.
There is nothing sadder than being sad for no reason.
You know that?
Among other things you don't think I know.
What about dinner first at some quiet little place?
If you like.
A strange agitation seized me...
like when I first fell in love with her.
She had been distressed as now, and again, she needed me...
but now because of another man.
Ghislaine had done her job well.
Though it hurt me to see Gloria suffer...
I had to see it through for the sake of our future together.
Again.
Hello? - Hello, my love.
I'm sorry about yesterday...
but it's really terrific. I'm going to tour in "One Doesn't Play With Love."
Brussels, then the tour, Ghent, Namur, Liege...
Gloria, do you hear me? Don't you care?
So you're going away? - Not for long. It will go quickly.
You seem very happy to leave.
Don't you realize what this means to me?
Who proposed this tour? - Mauvinelli.
Who's he? - I don't know.
He phoned me. Said he heard of me. - Did you sign?
No, I'm signing the day after tomorrow.
What's wrong? You're not happy for me?
Oh yes, of course, my darling!
"So you'll be patient, the rest follows."
No mistakes, eh? - The Mauvin Agency doesn't make mistakes!
I'll drop you at Deuce Magots.
Are we all square? - Yes.
I won't need you anymore. Call me only if something happens.
Goodbye. - Goodbye.
I won't say, "see you again."
The climax was approaching, and about time, too.
I'd hurt Gloria grievously and wrecked myself.
Poor thing, you'll never learn to pack a valise.
You'll write every day?
Yes. - And be good?
And you?
Me? Don't you trust me?
I want to trust you.
I must hurry. I haven't shaved yet.
Darling, will you get out my passport?
Where is it?
In the desk, the bottom drawer.
Darling, you love me?
Gloria! What are you doing with that?
Don't be silly, Gloria!
Gloria?
Gloria, what's happened?
I deceived you, Jacques. I just killed my lover.
You killed him?
He did something terrible...
but it isn't him I wanted to kill.
Leave me alone, Jacques. I'm done for!
She had killed him.
I had foreseen everything but that.
Now I had to see this through to the end...
to keep pretending to her...
that I knew nothing about it...
and try to save her.
Where is he? - At his place.
How did you kill him?
I found his revolver. He jumped at me.
Nobody saw you come out? - No.
Now there was blood on our story.
This crime, Gloria's crime...
had doomed her, and it was my fault.
The boy had done nothing but love her...
maybe even as much as I did.
No, that wasn't possible. I had to find a way...
Quickly. Very quickly.
Several months passed. The inquest was over and the case was closed.
The disappearance of Norman Yves was forgotten by the police.
Gloria and I gradually resumed an almost normal life again.
We'd decided she wouldn't leave me again.
She came with me to the factory. She worked beside me now.
Time slowly began to heal both our wounds.
She'd begun to love me again, somewhat differently...
but the road was open before us.
One thing obsessed me though...
There, a few yards away...
was that wall.
I had not told Gloria...
and I found it increasingly hard not to tell her.
It became like an obsession.
I had to share it with her.
I had to confess this secret which was the last obstacle between us.
What are you doing?
Gloria...
I thought I would never tell you, but you must know.
He's there, buried in that wall...
and they will never find him.
That night, I finally felt that she was mine again...
that we were reunited for good.
Should Madame desire anything changed... - It's perfect. Thank you.
Thank you.
Here, sir.
Thank you, Mr. Decrey. Merry Christmas. - Thank you. Goodbye.
What were you doing in the Place Vendome?
What would one do there on Christmas Eve?
Careful, you'll crush the Christmas tree ornaments!
No, we won't have time to fix our tree.
Where's the holly?
Here it is.
"Merry Christmas." You bet!
Here we go until 3 AM again! - Christmas is nice.
Not for those who wash dishes.
When do we serve? - I'll see.
Jerome, help me.
The candles are wrong.
Do you have a tree? - Madam we bought us one.
It looks very festive, even undecorated.
How pretty you are!
Not if you muss up my hair!
Where are the tree ornaments? - In the glove box of the car.
I'll get them.
Careful. Don't catch cold.
You found them?
It was you.
Gloria, I beg you.
Gloria, open up. I did it only for you!
Hello. - Madam.
Here, Jerome. Be careful.
Thank you.
Ah! Merry Christmas! That's what we should say, eh?
Is it the wrong day? You look strange.
Glad to see you. - I'll go see Gloria.
Not now, a little later. - You two had an argument?
Not on Christmas Eve!
Save it for New Year's Eve. I'd like to digest my dinner!
Look who's talking!
After aggravating us all through dinner!
I almost didn't come. - I'm sorry, I won't do it again!
Nothing serious between Gloria and you? - No, she is nervous.
Watch out, Jacques. Gloria is very sensitive.
They are ALL sensitive, they claim...
even when they shoot you with a revolver.
Bang! Bang! Bang! "Oh, sorry, darling."
You're absurd, as always. Stop drinking. It's your third.
We always get it in the belly. Or the spline!
We're not sensitive, oh no! Say something. Defend our sex!
If we don't stick together, we're sunk!
Tell Gisele to ask Madame to come down.
Madame sent Gisele on an errand.
Good. Excuse me.
Gloria!
Gloria...
Jacques!
Open up! What's happening?
Jacques! Open up!
Mr. Decrey? - Yes.
Inspector Bertin. I must ask you to accompany me.
Where are we going? - Your factory.
Mr. Decrey?
Police Commissioner Devral.
We received a letter from Ms. Decrey, which I'll read.
"Yves Normand has been dead for six months."
"His body is in the new wall of my husband's factory."
"My husband's a criminal. He is responsible for everything."
"I can no longer live with him,"
"nor without him, either."
If we do find the corpse of Yves Normand in this wall,
your guilt would be quite clear, Mr. Decrey.
Have you anything to say about this letter?
Would you re-read the last sentence, please?
"I can no longer live with him,"
"nor without him, either."
You will find the corpse of Yves Normand...
in the center of this wall,
was about 5 feet from the top.
I have nothing else to say.
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