All language subtitles for Kolchak.The.Night.Stalker.S01E14.The.Trevi.Collection.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor_track3_eng

Tuesday, May 2, 1:00 p.m.

Mickey Patchek was
a dealer, a snitch,
a peddler of information.

His clothes were as cheap
as his reputation.

So when he phoned me
with some information
to sell,

I was surprised
he wanted to meet me...

in the heart
of Chicago's chichi
high fashion district.

What started out
as a mild surprise...

culminated
in stark raving terror.

Hey! Mickey!

Oh, I'm sorry.

Ladies and gentlemen,

welcome to the Trevi Salon...

and welcome to
the midpoint year
of the 1970s,

when fashion
will once again become
just that-- fashion.

I don't like
long introductions,

so, ladies and gentlemen,
the Trevi Collection
for 1975!

First, Madelaine,

whose chocolate dress
announces the end
of nostalgia...

and the return
of the cape.

Since her matte
jersey dress
is in chocolate,

her jersey cape, with
the hand-dyed feathers,
is in delicious caramel.

The truly
liberated woman...

is not afraid
to be a woman.

No camp, no kitsch,

no cartoon T-shirts.

Melody, whose
evening gown in bronze
pailleted sequins...

all hand-sewn,

and for that
very mystifying entrance,
souffle veiling.

Ah!

Oh!
You scared me.

- What are you, a policeman?
- Do I look like a policeman?
I'm a reporter.

I covered the fashion show
this afternoon.

Oh, they put me
in that awful cape thing
with all those feathers.

I was invisible.
Do you think
that'll catch on?

Well, who knows?
The Nehru jacket
had its day.

- Does that stairway
go up to the top floor?
- Mm-hmm.

- But they won't
let you in there.
- Why?

- The police
are taking fingerprints.
- Ah.

Why do you
want to go up there?

- Why do I want to go up there?
Because it's there.
- Oh.

Is there another way up?

You know, I could probably
tell you more than
you'd find out up there.

Why? Why would you
want to do a thing
like that?

Because I'd like
the publicity.

That I understand.

- And you want to know about
the man who fell, right?
- Mm-hmm.

I knew him.

The police think that
he was trying to steal
some fashion designs...

and trying to get away
through the window
when he fell.

You mean there's a market
for that kind of crud?

Fashion designs?
Are you kidding?

That's where Trevi
keeps all the designs
for her next season.

Hey, what kind of story
could you do about me?

- I might be able to tie you in
to a story on the man's death.
- Terrific!

I like the contrast.

Beautiful fashion model,
grim, tawdry death
of a fashion spy.

Yeah, yeah.
Well, first the spy, huh?

- You say you knew
Mickey Patchek?
- Indirectly.

- He was dating
one of the models.
- Which one?

Oh, doesn't this place have
the perfect texture and ambience
of a fashion layout?

Yeah, it's great. Listen,
what's this model's name?

Look,

some of the girls
like to date
kind of rough types.

I don't know--
it's chic, but
it's also kind of kinky.

So I don't wanna tell you
her name until I've checked
with her first. Okay?

Yeah, sure. Okay.
All right. You check,
and I'll call you later.

No, wait! She might
be inside right now.

And if she's not,
I'll ask some of the other girls
what they think. Okay?

Look, I really do
want to help you.

And if you're serious
about this publicity
business,

well, you have to know
something about fashion and
something about me, right?

I've got a whole string
of titles.

Miss Teen Queen,
state baton
twirling champion,

4-H club
competition winner.

Oh! 4-H club winner!

Sloppin' the hogs?
Winnowing the chaff?

Or is it chaffing
the winnow?

I raised a prize goat.

Come on.

Hi, Randy. Hi, Flo.
Kitty, kitty, kitty.

Oh, I love animals.
Mention that. The public likes
that sort of thing. Right?

Yeah, sure. Great.

- Listen, is one of the models
you're talking about here?
- No, I don't see her.

Then after the Teen Queen
thing, I decided to
freelance for a while.

- Then I went exclusive
with Madame Trevi.
- Yeah. Right to the top, huh?

Oh, no, not hardly.

This session
is a big step for me,
and for Trevi.

It's for Vogue,
the international edition.

Uh, maybe I'd better
get out of here.

Oh, no, Mr. Kolchak.
Just wave this around.
Nobody will notice you.

Madame Trevi picked you
for the layout. Looks like
you're on your way up, huh?

I was her second choice.

She wanted Melody Sedgewick,
but she and Melody
had a big argument.

Melody's leaving to do
cosmetic commercials...

right in the middle
of the showing.

Boys, step out
of there, please! We're
coming in with lights.

You see that girl
over there?

Oh! Oh, yeah!

That's Ariel,

the top international model,

and she never lets anyone
forget it.

Huh.

Pardon me.
Ariel won't work with you.

- She says you look alike.
- What?

Ariel is Ariel.

Why, she can't do this!

Oh, yes, she can.
The layout features her.
It's in the contract.

I'm sorry.

Well, about that model
you were talking about.

She's not here.

Well, thanks
a lot, Madelaine.
I'll be in touch with you.

Thank you.
We got so much accomplished.

-

11:45 p.m.

I received word
that Murray Vernon,

Mickey Patchek's
leading competitor in
the information business,

was ready to deal
for the same tidbits
Mickey had been holding--

some pieces of paper
that would blow a labor
extortion racket wide open...

and put several
garment union bosses
in prison.

I was to call Murray
at a certain number
to arrange the pass.

But before he could
say much of anything,

we both discovered
that Murray Vernon's
number was up.

Wait, wait, wait.
Have we met?

Don't give us none of
your double-talk, Kolchak.
We know that you got it.

- Oh, you do?
- Yeah.

- Murray Vernon told us
before he--
- Oh.

- Where is it, Kolchak?
- I don't know.
I haven't the faintest--

- It'll take me
a little time to get it.
- How much time?

- Oh, about a week--
- A week?

Well, about five days?

- You have it over here
tonight.
- N-No--

- Tonight!
- I need at least four days.

- I'll give you 24 hours.
- No, no, I couldn't possibly
do it in less than 72.

- Forty-eight.
- Seventy-two.

- Forty-eight!
- Hey, hey. You guys
nearly got a deal.

Split the difference.
Make it 60 hours.

- Yeah.
- Okay.

- The day after
tomorrow night.
- Day after t--

- Oh, like they tell us
down at police headquarters--
- Yeah?

- Don't try to
leave the city.
- Oh, no, no.

We told Murray Vernon
the same thing, Kolchak.

- You could run,
but you can't hide.
- Uh-huh.

Where have I
heard that line before?

Murray Vernon?
He's a small-time informer.
Not even back-page news.

- He called me last night,
wanted to sell me some evidence.

- What evidence?

Who knows? Something connected
with an extortion racket
in the garment industry.

- So, why do you wanna
cover this story?
- I don't want to! I have to!

'Cause the guys
that killed Murray
think I've got...

or can get the evidence
he was trying to sell me.

They gave me a deadline,
with an accent on "dead."

Threats are the standard
situation with those men,
Carl. You know that.

It goes with the territory,
like the high salary.

Oh, boy. You're really
full of it today, Tony.

Can you come over
to the window?

Can you get up
out of your chair
and walk to the window?

Can you make it?

Now what do I do?
Jump?

Want me to open the window
for you? Look down there
in the street.

Yeah, see the guy
leaning up against the car,
reading the newspaper?

- Yeah.
- Well, does he look like
a scoutmaster to you?

Look, Carl, we can call
the police. They'll pick
him up, shake him down.

On what charge?
Slow reading in public?

They're just watching me,
Tony, that's all.

They're just
keeping an eye on me.

They gave me a time limit.
Very generous-- 60 hours.

Sixty hours? How did you
come up with that?

Arbitration.

Oh.

- Sixty hours. You don't know
what evidence they want?
- No.

- You have no leads.
- No-- Oh,
I got one lead, yeah.

Yeah, see,
these are the last things...

that Mickey Patchek saw
before he died.

- Okay?
- Yeah.

He wasn't much
of a photographer.

Yeah. He wasn't much
of a skydiver either.

Huh.
Look at that, Tony.

Look. Those dressmaker dummies
have moved. See? The shadows
are in different positions.

Yeah, the cops say
that Patchek
was alone up there.

- So they were wrong.
- Yeah. Wrong.

Have you been able
to connect Murray Vernon
with Mickey Patchek?

No. No, not yet.

Those hoods have
spooked my stringers.

- They act like I got leprosy.
- You'd be better off. You'd
be safer in a leper colony.

- That's very funny.
- Have you got
any leads at all?

No! Not yet.

I have got a model
that works for Trevi
checking on Patchek for me.

Say, did you hear about
the cat that clawed up
Ariel's face, that French model?

No, Carl. The only connection
I have with the fashion world
is Mr. Napoli's Menswear.

Famous makers' suits
that go for 59.95.

And it looks like it too.

You should experience
"hot" couture.

That's high fashion, Tony.
I mean, those people
really are in another world.

Well, so is Murray Vernon,
and you could be
joining him.

- No, I got plenty of time.
- Carl, where are you going?

-To check with
my stringer, the model.
-Carl, listen, forget the model.

Forget the model,
forget the cat,
forget the moving dummies.

Just get back
to Murray Vernon
and the evidence he had.

- Yeah, right, Tony, right.
- No, no, no, no.

I've seen
that look before, Carl.

You get that slack jaw,
your mind drifts off, and you
don't even really hear me.

- What?
- You see?
You don't hear me!

You're not thinking
about Murray Vernon.
You don't care.

You're gonna follow something
else. You're gonna follow
something else! You know why?

'Cause you are suicidal!
You are self-destructive,
Carl!

I can't talk to you
when you get emotional
like this.

I'm not emotional!
Who's emotional?

You're the one
that's gonna get splattered
all over the sidewalk!

You're the one they're
gonna get! You're the one
that's gonna be Humpty Dumpty!

Don't you understand? I got
a business to worry about! Why
should I have to worry about y--

May 2, 8:45 p.m.

Melody Sedgewick
was exhausted after a day
of riding herd...

on her new career
and her many offers.

She wanted to soak
her tensions away.

Her tensions
left her... forever.

Hmm?

What?

Help!

I couldn't find Madelaine,
and my usual stringers
were laying low.

But Miss Emily managed to
contact me to tell me something
she knew would interest me.

It had come over the wire
that Melody Sedgewick,
thoroughbred clotheshorse,

had been scalded to death
in her shower.

Dying and maiming
were coming into vogue
in the fashion business.

- I.N.S.
- Independent News Service?

Well, it's not
Ladies' Wear Weekly
or Women's Wear Daily. I--

- I could have guessed that.
- Yeah.

However, I do think
our subscribers
would be very interested...

in what's happening
in the fashion field,

particularly
in your collection.

Kind of
a man-in-the-street look
at haute couture.

- What?
- Haute couture.

Oh, yeah, sure.
That too. Yeah.

Uh, I suppose a great deal
of secrecy surrounds your
showings and your designs.

Is espionage
a major problem?

You think of us
as the Detroit
automobile industry?

Well--

We don't produce
for the masses.

Uh-huh. I see.

But, uh, knowing your
competitors' designs would have
some value, wouldn't they?

Yes, some.

Cornelius,
we're not doing nostalgia.

Courrèges was doing this
in the '60s.

Here, lower the belt
a little, a-and...

- fluff out the sleeves
a little, please.

This we'll abandon.

Listen, do individual models
play an important part
in your collection?

Uh, you're speaking
about Melody.

Exactly.

She was leaving,
and you argued with her.

N-No. No, no.
She talked to me
before the accident.

- She said
she was staying on.
- Can you prove that?

Good.
Now it's out in the open.

And just as I suspected,
you have absurd
and vague suspicions.

Did you know Mickey Patchek?

I never met him.
I wish I could say
the same about you.

That's very good.

You don't have any idea about
why Mickey Patchek jumped off
the top floor of your saloon?

Salon. Leave.

- Please.
- Yeah, sure.

Please leave my salon.

Yeah, sure. I know
when I'm not wanted.
Salon, saloon.

11:00 p.m.

It seemed very odd to me
in these days...

of dwindling energy reserves
and increased costs
of public utilities...

than anyone,
Miss Melody Sedgewick
included,

would be likely to die from
having too much hot water
in their shower.

I've talked to the cops. I've
talked to the reporters. I'm not
gonna talk to anybody else.

How about talking
to a good lawyer...

to, uh, cover
your personal liability?

- What personal liability?
- Yours.

To put it delicately,
a young lady was fricasseed
in one of your showers.

You just might be open
to charges of negligence.

Oh.

I told the police
there's nothing wrong
with the shower.

- Water heater's
first-rate.
- Huh. Okay.

Do you mind?

You see? Like clockwork.
Everything works. First-rate.

- Ever get complaints
about the hot water?
- Never.

It's all regulated
automatically. Never
too hot, never too cold.

Mm-hmm.

- Yeah?
- Aye. You see? It never
gets hotter than that.

Just right.

Just right.

First-class?

Right.
Everything's just right.
It's a happy building.

Yeah.

Hi!
You like it?

Yeah. Well,
that's very pretty. Yeah.

It's hand-painted
crepe de chine.

Just a bundle
of scarves, really,
but look how it floats.

- See? See how it floats?
- Yeah, yeah.

Floats like a butterfly.

I called your exchange.
They told me--

What are you doing here
so late?

I'm taking Melody's place
tomorrow.

Madame Trevi wanted me
to come down and try on
some of the wardrobe.

- Oh. Then you know
about Melody.
- Oh, God, yes.

And Madame Trevi has you
doing this, at this hour,
after what happened?

It's all right.

No, no. No, I don't think
it is all right.

You look
pretty scared to me.

Please. I don't want
to talk about it. All right?

What do you mean,
you don't want to
talk about it?

What kind of a thing
is that to say
to a reporter?

I've gotta find out
what's going on
around here.

There's a couple of guys
with bent noses
looking for me.

Listen to me.
She won't let you find out.

- Wh-What do you mean?
- She has power.

- What power?
- Madame Trevi--
she's a witch.

A witch? You mean,
like on a broomstick?

- Yes.
- Really?

Well, I've never
met a witch before.
I'd like to talk to her.

-No, no, no, please. If she knew
I told you, she'd kill me.
-No, don't worry about it.

- Is she upstairs?
- No, no, no.
She's not here right now.

Oh, she's not here.

Well, I'll come back later.

Witch, huh?

Yes.

- You take care
of yourself, Madelaine.
- I will.

Witchcraft. The black arts.

In this enlightened day,
do rational people believe
in the existence of witches?

The answer proved to be
a simple "yes."

Historically, the concept
of demonic witchcraft...

assumed its greatest importance
in Western Europe...

during the fifth
to 17th centuries.

How about today?
I mean, do witches exist
in Chicago today, now?

If you believe witches exist,
then they do exist.

And judging from
the recent revival of interest
in the occult and witchcraft,

then we must conclude
that witches do indeed exist
for a great many people.

How do you
recognize a witch?

Aside from the pointed hat
and the cackle.

You mean
some identifying test?

Yeah. Yeah.

Just one.

Witches cannot be drowned.

In Salem, they were placed
in dunking chairs and held
underwater, watched carefully.

That ability to survive
underwater is the only
absolute test for a witch.

Tell me,
is there some way to
take away a witch's power?

Yes. They must be
publicly accused
of witchcraft.

The judges in Salem
believed...

that such accusation
lessened a witch's power...

until such time
as they could be finally
dealt with by burning.

- Oh, charming.
- It's all right here
in my book.

Yes, yes, yes.
I bought it.

- Oh, thank you.
- You're welcome.

- Next!
- For 10.95.

"Devil or warlock."

Let's see.
"Kiss the devil on Sunday."
"For sale: '72 Ford."

Chicanery, fraud.
Nothing ever changes.

These covens aren't
all sincere, you know.

Well, could you recommend
a good coven?

I don't endorse
individual covens.

- I see you bought his book.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Why? Isn't it any good?

Good? It'll probably
be a best seller.
Most trash is.

If he's such a schlock artist,
why did they invite him
to speak here?

Don't ask me.

Unfortunately, for those
of us who are genuinely
interested in the occult,

- witchcraft's big business.
- Ah.

Big business and free speech
is what this country's
all about, right?

Well, I'll agree
about free speech.

Skip the reading.

Try this coven.

- It saved my marriage.
- Yeah?

Even my husband's a believer
now, and he's a stiff-necked
Freudian psychiatrist.

Hmm.

But don't say
you heard it from me.

Witchcraft does have
professional ethics.

Like big business.

Webster's definition of a coven
is concise, terse,

without the usual disclaimers
or qualifications.

It states simply that a coven is
"a band or assembly of witches."

Hi. I'm here to--

We know why you are here.

Come in.

Okay, how much is it?

There is no charge.

A nominal contribution
will be appreciated.

Not that nominal.

I just have
a couple of questions.

All your questions
will be answered.

- What's that?
- A robe.

- You want me
to get into it?
- Put it on.

We will begin...

the invocation...

with a sacrifice.

Our lord will not come!

- Speak, Griselda.
- There is one among us who
cannot be part of this coven.

He is under the spell
of a black witch.

- Is this true?
- I don't know!

She's killed
a couple of people,
maimed another.

Maybe she's trying to
kill me. Trying to scare me
to death, maybe.

She is a black witch.

We have no power over them.
We fear them as much
as you do. You must go!

Okay, okay, all right.

I came to get some questions
answered. You told me all
my questions would be answered.

- What am I gonna do?
- I can help.

- Then quickly, Griselda.
- Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

You must read
what has been written
in the mirror.

"Oak chest.

"Mojo bags.

"Brass bells.

Copper thread."

The spirits say
the black witch's power
is in an oak chest.

To destroy her,
you must destroy
its contents.

- She's here! Go!

Yeah.

"Chest.

Closet behind witch's desk."

Stop it! Stop it!

Do you know
what you've done?
Why are you doing this?

To strip you of your power,
madam. Now we can talk
about Mickey Patchek.

He was trying
to steal my designs.

And you stopped him
with witchcraft!

I see.

She's made you think
I'm the witch.

- What?

-She was using you to destroy
the things that controlled her.

Nothing will stop her now!
She'll kill us both!

What are you talking about?
Who will kill us both?

Madelaine-- Madelaine--

Madelaine the witch.

Good heavens.

Madame Trevi was hospitalized
with something they called...

a laryngeal constriction.

It simply meant
she was choking to death.

The doctors didn't know
how to stop it, but of course
they refused to admit that.

Nor could they explain
why they were powerless.

- We got ripped off. Right?
- Wrong!

Obviously your friends are not
satisfied with your progress
on the Murray Vernon business,

so sometime last night
they came in here
to spur you along.

- What did that say?
- They called you a--

It was a very filthy word,
Carl, and I tend to
agree with them.

Oh, you do!
Get it off of there, George.

Mr. Vincenzo
left his Homburg in here,

and they broke into the
refrigerator and smeared
peanut butter all over the brim.

- No.
- My favorite hat.

- Now it'll always smell
like some kid's lunch box.
-

I'm sorry, Tony, but
I'm doing the best I can.

- Now, look, Carl.
I want you to understand--
- Tony!

Now, look, Carl--
Carl, now, this is an order.

I want you to lay off
the fashion business.

Find out what Murray Vernon
and Patchek had for you,

and do it before they drag
Lake Michigan and find us
all wearing cement kimonos.

Tony, I'm trying to do that.
I'm going to. I really am.

You see, I think it's all
kind of interrelated,
the whole thing.

- But I'm gonna get to the
bottom of it yet, with this.
- What's that?

You been robbing lint traps
down at the Launderama?

- No, it's a mojo bag.
- A what?

A mojo bag. Yeah.
See, it's got bear claws in it,
and, uh-- and a little bell.

It's the only thing
that'll ward off
the power of a black witch.

- A black witch?
- Yeah, that's right.
A black witch.

Carl.

- Yeah?
- Carl--

You know, every year
my brother-in-law asks me...

to come into the venetian
blind business with him.

He's got a $50,000 home
over in Evanston.

He's got a company car.

And I always say, "No, Rocco,
I love the news business.
It's in my blood."

Uh-huh.

I tell you something,
Carl.

This is the year
I'm gonna become
a venetian blind executive.

Tony,
you got a brother-in-law
named Rocco...

in the venetian
blind business?

Hey, that's
a terrific cover, Tony.

No, no, I'm serious.
I'm really
very serious, Tony.

This mojo bag
and the sound of breaking glass
are anathema to a black witch.

Good-bye, Carl.

- Think he means it?
- I wonder who'd take control
of the bureau.

Be my guest, Ron.
Just remember, I like my
underwear in the top drawer.

Oh, Carl, there was
a telephone message for you.

Dr. Gravanites from
the City General wants you
to come down right now.

Oh, thanks, Em.
Thanks very much.

But I've forgotten
something.
Something I'm missing here.

I've got my bell,
the bear claws
and the buttons.

Wire! Copper wire.
That's right.
Witches hate copper.

- Oh. Carl.
- Yes?

I merely point it out to you.
I don't say "yea" or "nay."

I say "yea," Em.
Thank you, my darling,
very, very much.

- Aha.
- Kolchak!

You gotta
repair it anyway, Tony.

Besides, the venetian blinds
behind my desk over there
have been broken by the guys.

You got your first big sale.
Congratulations.

-

She's been trying to say
something, repeating your name.

It's Kolchak.
Wh-- What--

A doll.

- A doll?
- Yes.

What kind of a doll?

A rag doll.

Rag-- Rag doll?
Like-- Like--
Wh-What, like you?

- She's very weak.
- I know, I know, I know.

Just-- Just give me a moment.
It could be important.

Yes, go on. Who?

It's... Madelaine.

Madelaine?

- Yeah, I understand.

Where is the doll?

In my office.

I-In the office.
Where? Where in the office?

- I don't know.
- You don't know.

You don't--
Yeah, all right.

- Find it.
- Yeah, I will.

I will.

I will. Yeah.

How long can you
keep her alive?

If she lasts the night,
we'll be lucky.

What was that about a doll?
Voodoo?

No, no, no. Witchcraft.
I've got to cut the hair
from around the doll's neck.

You don't believe
in witchcraft, of course.

No.
Of course not.

But in this particular case
I'd agree with what my mother
used to say about chicken soup.

Oh, yeah?
What was that?

It couldn't hurt.
- Yeah, yeah.

This going down
to the morgue? I'll walk.

Ah!

Mm-hmm.

Hello, Carl.

My, that was a courageous
thing you did just now,

coming up here with
your little bag of bells
and copper threads,

all to save
poor Madame Trevi.

Yeah, well, it seems to me we're
all a little old for playing
with dolls, wouldn't you say?

Hmm.

Maybe I'll forgive you
for that.

Trevi's a fool.

She could have been
the leading couturier.

I could have made her that.

But instead she's a coward.

She turned against me,

conspired with you.

Well, I think your methods
upset her a lot.

She knew what I was.

She and I had a little deal.

Yeah, but we didn't.
Why'd you try to kill me
in that car in the parking lot?

I just wanted to really
convince you that there, uh--
there was witchcraft afoot.

Hoo!

I needed your help to, uh--

to eliminate some of
those power objects she was
using to keep me in line.

- Oh?
- But let's talk about you.

- Well--
- I could use you.

I mean, uh,

oh, I could make you
so important.

Youscould
make me important?

How? By killing off
all my enemies?

We'd have to buy out
a controlling interest
in a doll factory for that one.

I know things, Carl.

I know, for instance, that now
you're looking for something,
some kind of evidence.

Some man was murdered.

A... Murray Vernon?

I know where it is.

His mother
has it in a shoe box...

in a rest home.

Canceled checks
from a garment union
extortion.

Well, that's terrific!

That's really very good.

Listen, what do you, uh--
what do you really want?

I mean,
where do you go from here?

After modeling,
I go into film,
like Lauren Hutton.

Maybe marry a rich
Greek like Jackie,
or a prince like Grace.

- Oh.
- Just what any girl wants--
fame, fortune, a Maserati.

I want it all, Carl.
Everything.

Sure. Why not?

But do you mind if
I think over our agreement
for a little while first?

You've already
thought it over.

I know when you're lying.

Just like my mother.

- Aaah!

You can't
get away from me, Carl!

You can't accuse me
in front of anyone!

There's no one here
but us... and them.

And they don't care!

Mojo!

No! Carl, no!

No!

No!

No! No!

Drown, witch!
Drown, you witch! Drown!

Drown! Drown!

- Aah!
-

I'll kill you!

I'll kill you!

Madelaine Perkins,
I publicly accuse you
of being a witch!

- No! No!
- In front of these people,

I accuse you of
practicing the black arts
of witchcraft!

Of consorting
with the prince of darkness!

Madelaine was uncannily
correct about the shoe box
full of checks.

Miss Emily found them,
as predicted,

and we're about to break
a large story about extortion
in the garment industry.

Uh, Madelaine was
incorrect, however, about
her own glorious future.

A conviction
for murder could never
be lodged against her,

but along with
her black powers
went her mind.

I'm told that
she is to be consigned...

to the women's ward
of Grassland State
Mental Hospital.

The doctors there
give her little hope of
ever recovering her sanity.

They can't understand
what caused such massive trauma.

They say that the form
of medieval pox
which she contracted...

has not been seen
in our world
for over 500 years.

It will leave
permanent scars.

Ah, Madelaine,
poor Madelaine.

She won't even
be pretty anymore.

Isn't that a pity?