All language subtitles for Alfred Hitchcock s01e10 The Case of Mr Pelham.eng

Good evening.

Due to circumstances
beyond our control...

tragedy will
not strike tonight.

I'm dreadfully sorry,
perhaps some other time.

However, I have just witnessed
a sneak preview of this evening's story...

and I found it
simply frightening.

Sometimes,
death is not the worst that can befall a man...

and I don't refer to torture
or any type of violence.

I mean, the quiet,
little insidious devices...

that can drive a man
out of his mind...

like putting bubble-gum
in someone's coat pocket.

Tonight's little frolic
is called, The Case of Mr. Pelham.

Good morning, Mr. Pelham.

You're a bit early today.
Yes.

Your usual sherry, Mr. Pelham?

No, that is whiskey, please.

Straight. I believe
I'll have it straight. Yes, sir.

Have you seen
Dr. Harley today? Not yet...

but it's still
a little early for him.

Here he comes now.
The usual, Ray.

Hello, Dr. Harley.

Hello....
Pelham.

Yes, of course.
Hello, Pelham. How are you?

Could you have lunch
with me today, Dr. Harley?

Well, I--
I'd rather appreciate it if you could.

I rather need to talk to you.

About some friend
with a psychosis?

No, it's not a friend.
It's myself.

Well, thanks very much,
Pelham.

I'd be delighted
to lunch with you. Thanks, Ray.

Well, shall we sit down?
Yes.

How about this?
Fine.

[stammers]

I want this
on a professional basis, of course, Doctor.

That is, I expect you
to send me a statement.

Well, it would be much better
if you came to my office, you know.

I always dislike
doing things this way. Of course.

And I will come later,
if you want me to...

and lie on the couch,
or whatever's necessary.

But I want to talk
about it now, first, if you'll let me.

By all means.
Go right ahead.

You don't know
too much about me, I suppose...

and there's really
not much to know.

I have my own little company,
Albert Pelham, Investments.

I'm single, have an apartment
on East 63rd with one servant, Peterson.

I have no deep attachments,
no demanding relationships...

no responsibilities.

Nothing at all unusual
about me, really, until....

Well, I should start
at the beginning, I suppose.

The first....

The first indication
was only about two weeks ago.

I was leaving
my office building in the evening...

and an acquaintance,
his offices are in the same building as mine...

said something about seeing me
at the Garden the night before, at the fights.

It was just in passing,
you know, and he was hurrying...

and had gone on
before I could question him.

Although, I attached
no importance to it at the time.

But I hadn't been
at the Garden the night before.

In fact,
I never go to fights.

Well, I would have thought
no more of it, I suppose, just a case of mistaken identity.

But a few days later,
here at the club...

in fact at that table
over there, where Manning and his father are now...

(Mr. Pelham)
I was having lunch with a man from Detroit...

who had inherited
an estate I was handling.

And I noticed Tom Mason,
and I called him to stop...

as he was leaving,
to introduce him.

Tom, could you come here
a moment, please?

I'd like you to meet
Mr. Hartley of Detroit. This is Tom Mason.

I'm glad to see
we're on speaking terms again.

What? What do you mean?

The day before yesterday,
you cut me dead right out here at the corner.

Really?

I'm dreadfully sorry.
I must not have seen you.

You saw me all right,
looked me right in the eye.

When I said, "Hello, Pel,"
you simply walked past.

It was pretty intense
concentration, old man.

Careful you don't get yourself
run over one day.

Day before yesterday,
you say? What time?

Two-ish.
Not guilty.

I was in Philadelphia
the day before yesterday...

didn't get back till 6:30.

You may think
you were in Philadelphia...

but, actually,
you were right out there on the corner.

Or else, you have a double
to end all doubles, Pel.

Well, doubles aren't
too unusual, of course.

Frequently,
there's quite a difference when you see the two together.

But sometimes, even then--
Yes, I know.

And I was prepared to admit
the simple existence of a double.

But then, only day
before yesterday, as I was leaving here after lunch...

the hall man handed me
a carton of cigarettes and said...

Harry the billiard-room
attendant had sent them up.

That I had left them here
the night before.

And I wasn't here
the night before.

Well, I didn't have time
to stop then...

but I came back
on my way home that night...

to see if I could get
to the bottom of this.

You know, Harry,
I don't remember ordering those cigarettes at all.

In fact,
I suspect someone's playing a joke on me...

for I don't even recall
being here at all last night.

That might just
possibly be it...

wouldn't you say?

Thank you, Mr. Pelham,
but, no, sir, you were here.

You could check
with Mr. Mason. You were playing with him.

I'm afraid that wouldn't help.
If it is a joke, he's probably behind it.

Well, if it wasn't you, sir,
it was somebody so much like you, you wouldn't believe it.

Yes, so it seems.
It must have been you, Mr. Pelham.

You made a crack
about that crazy...

hop, skip, and kiss-you-twice
carom you made that time.

Who else would know
about that?

Yes. Who would?

(Mr. Pelham)
I still hadn't decided

whether I really
had a double...

who had the effrontery
to impersonate me right here in my own club...

or whether even the servants
had been enlisted in this senseless jest.

Both seemed likely.

So I decided to leave the club
and eat somewhere nearby...

and then sneak back
and see if I could catch the scoundrel here.

So I called Peterson
to tell him I'd not be home for dinner...

but Peterson seemed very odd
on the telephone.

Hello, this is Mr. Pelham.

No, I do not want
to talk to Mr. Pelham. I am....

Suddenly, I realized
that he thought I was home...

that this person was there,
in my apartment.

So I rushed home to catch him,
if I could, not knowing just what to expect.

Peterson.

Peterson.

You've changed your mind, sir?
Changed my mind?

You were going out
for the evening, you said.

[stammers]

I.... Yes.

Peterson, when you let me
in tonight...

did you happen to notice
anything different about me?

But I didn't let you in, sir.
You let yourself in.

And you didn't notice
anything unusual? Well, nothing in particular.

You just said you were
going out for the evening, then went into the bedroom.

(Peterson)
Is anything wrong, sir?

(Mr. Pelham)
I remembered what he said about letting myself in...

but my spare key
was still there.

I don't mind saying,
this rather upset me.

But a moment later....

It was just as if
I had come in earlier...

before going out
for the evening, changed my collar and tie and....

I was still wearing
my own tie.

They were identical...

the same make,
the same amount of wear...

but I had never bought
a duplicate.

That night--
Do you still have this tie?

At home, yes.
Both of them.

It's not an imaginary tie,
Doctor. It was still there the next morning.

This was yesterday morning?
Yes.

I slept very badly at first...

worry, you know,
and then overslept in the morning.

I didn't feel like going
to the office then and called them...

and told them I wouldn't be in
until after lunch.

I had the lock changed
on my front door that morning...

and only one key to it made.

Good idea.

I thought of the police,
of course...

but what good could they do?
Besides, he hadn't done anything.

Moreover...

I'd begun to have
the feeling...

that there was something more
than a purely human agency involved in this.

That, or....

I'm not sure I understand
what you mean.

Well, I'll finish first.

Yesterday afternoon...

(Mr. Pelham)
I went to my office.

I thought it a bit odd
that no one inquired...

as to whether
I was feeling better or anything.

Good afternoon.
Mr. Pelham.

[typewriter clacking]

Here are the letters
you dictated this morning, Mr. Pelham.

I'm glad you felt better
and came in.

Dear, is it coming back?
Is anything wrong?

No, I think
I'll be all right, Miss Clement. Thank you.

Is there anything
I could get you?

No. I'll be fine.

All right. Just buzz
if there is anything. Thank you.

(Mr. Pelham)
They were good letters. They were all right.

They dealt efficiently
with various details of my work and, not only that...

although I had
not dictated them, they were my letters.

Not only in phraseology
and in style...

but in knowledge
of what I had to do.

So I signed them.

I was at a complete loss.

If I went to the police
about it, how could I explain those letters...

when I couldn't even
explain them to myself?

As a protective measure,
I wrote my bank...

changing my signature,
adding my middle initial...

which for some years
I had not used.

Well, does this bring us
up to date? No. It...doesn't.

I didn't feel like going home
when I left the office yesterday afternoon.

I felt, well, you can imagine,
jumpy, on edge.

I decided to go to a picture
or something of the sort...

to see if I could get
my mind off this for a while.

So I called Peterson
and told him I'd not be home for dinner...

but to leave some cold supper
out for me in case I was hungry later on.

(Mr. Pelham)
It was about 10:00 when I got home.

My supper wasn't
in the living room where Peterson usually leaves it...

nor was it in the dining room,
either.

In my already rather tense
emotional state...

this perhaps irritated me
more than it should have.

[buzzer sounding]

Peterson! Peterson!
Are you here?

Didn't I just hear you
come in, sir? Of course I just came in.

When did you go out?
Go out?

Peterson, what is
the matter with you?

Where's my supper?

But you ate it, sir.

Don't you remember?
Remember?

How could I
when I just came in?

Peterson--
But, look, sir.

Just look.

I left the dishes, sir.

Don't you remember,
and you asked for the last half-bottle of the claret?

Peterson, when you let me in,
did you....

[mumbles]

But you let yourself in,
sir.

Don't you remember any of it?
Well, yes.

I mean,
when I was having supper, Peterson, did you...

happen to notice how I looked,
or anything unusual?

No, sir. You seemed
all right then, sir.

As a matter of fact,
quite gay.

Your quip about
the taxi driver was most humorous.

Yes.

Well, good night.

I slept very little,
I'm afraid.

But I went to my office
this morning, anyhow...

because mostly I was afraid
if I didn't, he would.

But I got nothing done.
I thought of the police again...

for at least he did have a key
to my apartment and had illegally entered.

Yes, that's true.
But...

I had no hope
that they could do me any good.

Besides...

I had finally faced something
which I suppose...

had been disturbing me
all the time.

And before I talked
to the police and to anyone...

I wanted to talk to you,
to someone like you.

You see,
what I need to know is...

could a man actually be in
one place doing one thing...

and still in his mind
be elsewhere...

doing something else,
but so vividly, with such detail...

that this is the real,
the living part of his life to him?

Do you think?

Well, let us say
something of that nature is possible, Pelham...

but under
extreme circumstances.

Now, when your double
was doing these things...

were you doing,
whatever it was, with people you knew?

Now last night,
for instance...

when you went the movie
while he came home and ate your supper...

were you with anyone
you know?

No, but I remember
the picture...

and it's the one
that's running at that theatre.

I looked it up this morning.

Do you feel he's deliberately
doing these things to cause you trouble, to upset you?

No. I don't think he's trying
to persecute me, Doctor.

In fact, I can think of
no reason at all for him to do what he is doing.

I have the feeling
that he's trying...

to move into my life,
to crowd closer and closer to me...

so that one day
he is where I was...

standing in my shoes,
my clothes, my life.

And I am gone.

Vanished.

Well, I have to be
getting back.

It seems pretty clear
this double is a real person.

You're pretty much
a creature of routine, aren't you?

Regular habits,
same kind of clothes, that sort of thing?

I suppose I am.
I've always liked to feel dependable.

So you see, he could match
your dress, and manner, and so forth...

pretty well by watching you,
and has.

So chances are
he's up to something.

I could vary my routine some.

Different hours, amusement,
clothes, that sort of thing.

Maybe buy a loud tie.
I normally only wear this kind.

Sounds like a good idea.

Well, keep in touch with me,
will you? I'd like to see you soon.

Yes.

Yes, I will.

Now this is
an exclusive model, and no two alike.

You won't see another.

Yes. I suppose
that's more like it.

Yeah.

[typewriter clacking]

Miss Clement.
Hello.

I hope you had a good lunch,
after waiting all that time.

In fact, I didn't really
expect you back at all today...

after all the work
you turned out during lunch hour.

Oh.

Is any of that work ready?
Yes, indeed, most of it. I'll bring it in.

There you are, sir.
Thank you, Miss Clement.

[door closes]

[exclaims]

That's my signature,
the new one...

and even the bank
couldn't have got my letter until noon.

What can I do?

What can I do?

What can the police do
about that?

What can anybody do?

Peterson.

(man)
Hello? Peterson, I--

Who's this?

This is Mr. Pelham.
Whom did you wish to speak to?

No, you are not. I'm....

Is Peterson there?
My man? Are you a friend of his?

I've told him
he's not supposed to be called on my telephone.

But, if it's important I--
Never mind. It's not important.

I just called to tell him
I won't be home until late tonight...

perhaps not at all.
Sorry to have bothered you.

That was my voice.

He's there now.

What is this? What's going on?

Going out and coming in,
and my never hearing it, and telling me that....

I'm sorry, sir.
It's only that-- That's all right.

Never mind.

Is he still....

Were you taking
the drink in to....

Heaven save us.
What's going on here?

Oh.

So there you are.

I didn't think
you'd have the gall to....

Don't go away, Peterson.

Perhaps you've noticed
I've been upset the last few days.

Well, this is the cause.

He actually--
No, Peterson! He's the imposter.

I'm me. Can't you see?
Can't you tell?

It's true, I've never seen
two as alike in all my life.

Nobody would believe me
if I told them.

Put me on oath,
but I couldn't swear which was which now.

Why, I'd swear to either,
separately.

There's a resemblance,
of course.

But it's perfectly simple,
really. You see, he's made a bad mistake.

Look at that tie
he's wearing.

Did you ever see me
in a tie like that? But....

No, sir, that's the truth.

You haven't got one like it.

What's more,
you wouldn't buy one.

You're the real Mr. Pelham,
all right.

I swear, for a moment--
No, Peterson.

I only bought it to prove,
to have something he couldn't duplicate.

Please don't shout.

No good can come of that,
you know.

You're the real one,
all right. I've heard you say that many times, sir.

Just that way.
Thank you, Peterson.

I will attend to this.

I don't want to turn you over
to the police, you know.

But I tell you,
if you persist I--

No, Peterson. Don't go!

You're wrong. Wrong.

Can't you see? Can't you tell?

After six years,
don't you know?

Just ring if you want me, sir.
Yes, I will.

[door opening]

Why?

[door closes]

Why did this
have to happen to me?

Why?
No reason.

It just did, you see.

I've known for several days
that there's an agency more than human here.

Tell me, what is it?

Whom do you represent?
Who are you?

Why, Mr. Pelham, of course.

You're mad, you know.

You know, I was thinking
the other day...

the way
things have been going...

you must be
in the millionaire bracket by now.

Possibly.

By the way...

do you think
I seem to have changed any, since I started to get ahead?

You seem to have sort of
taken hold of things more, is all.

Maybe that wretched experience
you had a year or so ago...

you know, when that fellow
who was trying to impersonate you...

went out of his mind
right in front of you.

Perhaps that sort of
settled you down or something, take a grip on things.

You know,
he was amazingly like you, wasn't he?

Yes.

Poor fellow.

He's been put away ever since,
you know.

I don't think
he'll ever be right again.

But I'm Alfred Hitchcock.
I am, I can prove it.

Sure. Everybody is.
I am, I insist.

An outstanding hoax.

He carried off the
impersonation brilliantly, except for one thing:

bubble-gum in his pocket,
indeed.

Alfred Hitchcock
wouldn't be caught dead with a bubble-gum in his pocket.

[gun fires]

Poor chap.

If you'll excuse me,
I need a moment to pull myself together.

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