All language subtitles for Man_in_the_Attic

You clatter like a horse.

You'll not steal up
on any Jack the Ripper...

thunderin' through
the streets like that.

Three thousand men
called out...

all wearin' rubber slips on their boots-
except the Yorkshiremen.

And one Yorkshireman's
worth the lot of you.

Never mind me boots.

They'd be better off
giving us guns...

not yawpin' about rubber soles.

And what do we do with this...

against a cunning devil
with a long, sharp knife?

- An Irishman knows what to do with that.
- You go now, Katy.

Now go home, and don't come back here
till you learn how to behave yourself.

- I won't go home. - I've warned you,
Katy, 100 times if I've said it once.

Let go of me.
I'll go when I'm ready and not before.

- Let go of me!
- Now, come now.

- Is that any way to be acting?
- Now, just gentle like.

Easy and gentle, if you please.

Three strong men, it takes-

Three men to keep one poor woman
from having a little drink.

Now, you'll be feelin' fine
after a little sleep. Come on.

I'm feeling fine now, you great ape.

You've got a quick eye, miss.
He is a bit like an ape.

- Here, you for home. You've had enough.
- Now look here.

I will drink till I float if I want to...

- and no one is going to stop me.
- I might-

Here, let me handle this.

You see, miss, it's our duty to protect you
from Jack the Ripper.

I don't think you mind
a bit of protection...

from a fiend like that, do ya?

You know...

I will be honored...

to have a stalwart
and polite constable such as you...

take me home.

I live... just around the corner.

Just around the corner.

You know, it's a rare thing...

to find a constable
with such lovely manners.

Yorkshire gallantry, ma'am.

Well, here it is.

And-And-And thank you kindly.

It's our pleasure, ma'am.
Sleep well.

Thank you. Good night.

Good night.

Bah. Rot. Rot!

This fellow George Bernard Shaw should
be shipped back to Ireland posthaste.

- What did you say, dear?
- I was talking to the dog.

About what, dear?

I said George Bernard Shaw
should be sent back to Ireland.

Why? What did he say
that you don't like?

He said if a duchess
went down to Whitechapel...

and got slaughtered
by Jack the Ripper...

something would be done to protect
the lives of the poor women who live there.

- Well, it's true, isn't it?
- In the first place, it's not true.

The second, I was talking to my dog.

Very well, but I think at least
you should tell him both sides.

That's ridiculous.

Now who could that be,
this time of night?

I'm sure if you think carefully,
you will discover a way of finding out.

William.

I feel something.

- Helen.
- Well, I do.

Good evening.

Do you have rooms to let?

I saw your advertisement...

and the estate agents
gave me this order to view.

You must forgive me for coming so late.
I was working.

Oh, yes, of course.
We do have rooms.

Please come in.

- I'm Mrs. Harley.
- My name is Slade.

- Well, Helen, who is it?
- My husband, Mr. Harley.

This is Mr. Slade, dear.
He's come to see the rooms.

Yes. How do you do?

That's odd, you know.
He never does that with strangers.

May I see the rooms, Mrs. Harley?

Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Slade.

If you'll just come upstairs-

Here we are.

I'm awfully glad
I dusted in here today.

I had a feeling someone might come.

I'm sure you'd be
very comfortable here.

Uh, this is the bedroom.

These are the only rooms
you have, Mrs. Harley?

I could let you have them
quite reasonably.

There isn't anything else,
except the attic, of course.

The attic?
Please let me see it.

It's really very small, you know.

I would like very much to see it.

Do you like those?
They're old-time actresses.

Quaint, aren't they?

As you see,
it isn't very nice.

Excellent. This is excellent.

Exactly what I need, madam.
You see, I am a pathologist.

I need a place to study
and do a little experimental work...

where I won't be interrupted.

I'd take the other rooms
as well, of course.

I would live downstairs
and work up here.

- Would that be all right with you?
- Yes, of course.

This will be most useful.

I suppose a scientist's experiments
always seem mysterious to other people.

I assure you,
I won't be doing anything dangerous.

That's good.

May I take the rooms tonight?

Yes. Uh, but the terms-

Would five pounds a month
be acceptable?

- Aye, well, now, that's more than adequate.
- Done.

You're our first
paying guest, Mr. Slade.

You see, we've come upon
a period of hard times.

So you must now let rooms?

Yes. Mr. Harley suffered
business reverses...

and with nothing to do,
he's become so nervous and restless.

If at times he seems
a little eccentric or rude...

- You will understand, won't you?
- Of course I will.

I believe I should
pay you now, Mrs. Harley.

My habits are irregular,
I'm afraid.

I often need to be out
late at night.

But I will be very quiet.

If you'll just regard me
as a lodger, not as a guest...

you'll-you'll hardly know
I'm in the house.

- A month in advance.
- Oh, you are thoughtful, Mr. Slade.

I'm so pleased
it was you who came.

Are you?
Well, that's very kind.

The maid will get your meals
whenever you want them.

- You have a maid?
- Yes.

This happens to be
her night out.

But I can get you
some dinner, if you'd like.

Yes.

This is a beautiful old Bible.

Yes. It belonged
to my grandmother.

I hope you'll not take it away.
I should like to have it here.

It comforts me.

The Ripper again! Murder in Whitechapel.

- Murder. Another Ripper murder.
- Another one.

- Another murder. - Another one
of those horrible Jack the Ripper murders.

Why can't the police stop them?

"Jack the Ripper."

What a revolting, stupid name.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Harley. The-

The whole thing
is repugnant to me.

If you'll excuse me,
I'll get your dinner now.

Murder. Evening Standard. Echo.

The Ripper again.

Murder in Whitechapel.
Murder. Another Ripper murder.

Another murder.
Evening Standard.

Echo.

- Oh, it's you.
- Oh, you heard?

- Yes. Another murder.
- The fourth. All the same.

He cuts their throats and then uses his
knife like a doctor who's gone mad.

The papers daren't print
all the details. Too gruesome.

- Want to read it?
- Uh, no, thank you.

William,
Mr. Slade took the room.

- Mm-hmm.
- And the attic too.

- He's taking them as of now.
- I say, that's a bit quick, isn't it?

He won't be any trouble
to us at all.

Don't like renting out
bits and pieces of my own home.

Can't have any privacy.

Besides, we need the money.

I suppose you want me
to go up and make a show of hospitality.

No. Tomorrow will do, dear,
but if you're finished with the paper...

let me take it up to Mr. Slade
with his dinner.

Finished with it?
I just got it.

There, you see?
It's beginning-

- Well, now. Where's that dog?
- I think I saw him go upstairs.

Look, that fellow is not
going to have my dog too, is he?

These pictures-
Their eyes follow you wherever you move.

They watch.
They get on my nerves.

I don't like being watched.

I understand.
I'll have them taken down tomorrow.

Further, they are
pictures of actresses.

Yes. I hope you don't
really object to actresses.

My niece Lily is on the stage.

- Your niece?
- Yes, we're very proud of her.

She opens next week
at the Piccadilly Theatre Royal.

She's bringing over
some special dances from Paris.

They're quite shocking,
but they're most delightful.

And she is very beautiful too,
I suppose.

Oh, yes.
Walt till you meet her.

Meet her?

Yes. She'll live here
in this house.

Oh, you'll soon change your mind
about actresses, Mr. Slade.

Come on, Prince.

Helen, it's 7:00.

Be quiet, dear. Read your paper.

We're just coming.

Oh, I'm as good
as my word, Daisy.

I've got your pass
for Miss Lily's performance tonight.

Oh, Mr. Harley, sir,
you're awfully nice.

What's the matter?
Don't you want to go now?

Oh, I do, sir. I do.

- But I'm afraid.
- Afraid?

Well, there ain't a girl in all London
who fancies walking home alone at night...

what with the Ripper
up to his devilish tricks.

Well, I suppose
I don't blame you.

Tell you what.

See the show and
come home in a cab.

Oh, bless you,
Mr. Harley, sir.

- Now run along and fetch us a carriage, will you?
- Yes, Mr. Harley, sir.

Come along, Lily darling,
or you'll be late.

I'm coming, Auntie.

Uncle William, you look
very handsome and elegant.

You look very ravishing yourself.

Oh, I'm so excited I'm
afraid I'm going to burst.

You must contain yourself at all costs.

Especially in the theater, where
people are helplessly packed together.

Oh, do be quiet.

Be sure you've got everything.

Hello there, Mr. Slade.

Are you coming to the theater, Mr. Slade?

- I'm afraid not. - Lily, I don't
believe you've met Mr. Slade, have you?

My niece, Lily Bonner.

Good evening, Mr. Slade.

I'm sorry you can't
come to the opening.

- I have work I must do.
- You work at night?

Yes, quite often.
Sometimes all night.

- It's quieter at night.
- I like the night too.

It's the only time
I feel really alive.

It's at night that
the interesting things happen.

What kind of work
do you do at night, Mr. Slade?

I doubt if you'd be interested.

Do you just work?

Sometimes I walk close by the river.

The river is like liquid night
flowing peacefully out to infinity.

I must not delay you.
I wish you success tonight.

Thank you.

Good night.

Good night.

He's so odd, isn't he?

I believe he's shy and lonely
and all wrapped up in his Chinese puzzles.

- What Chinese puzzles? - Oh, science
and pathology or whatever you said he did.

I can't help feeling
there's something odd about him.

He skulks, he prowls.
That's the something about him.

And if he's lonely, he has only to pop
out of his shell and speak to someone.

I think he's interesting.

Evening Standard. Echo.

Evening standard. Echo.

Four thousand police
on duty in Whitechapel.

Evening Standard. Echo.

Four thousand police
on duty in Whitechapel.

Oh, thank you, governor.
Evening Standard. Echo.

Dressing Room 1.

Hello, Annie.

Flowers for Miss Bonner.

Please.
May I see Miss Bonner?

- Miss Bonner is dressing.
- Who is it, Lelah?

It's Annie Rowley-
"La Belle Anne," remember?

It's all right, Lelah.
I know who Annie Rowley is. Come in.

Oh! It looks very nice.

Thank you for
letting me come in.

I always like to come
and say hello to my old dressing room.

It's perfectly all right, Annie. Help yourself
to champagne, courtesy of the management.

- I've got to hurry.
- Yes, I remember.

- Did you know royalty was coming tonight?
- Yes, the prince of Wales.

Oh, I had it all once-

royalty, champagne, flowers.

I remember my opening night
and how excited I was.

I looked
in this very mirror.

I wish I knew then
what I know now.

I came up overnight.
Overnight I was forgotten.

Won't be that way with you.

Who knows?

No, it won't.
I went on looks alone.

You have talent and... all the rest.

Thanks, Annie.
You coming tonight?

- No, I have what I call my work.

- I still sing and dance, you know.
- Oh? Where?

- I still sing and dance, you know.
- Oh? Where?

La Belle Anne now performs...

at Madame Tussy's School
of the Dance.

Gentlemen come in the evening
to learn the latest fandango.

That's in the parlor
in the front of the house.

Is there anything
I can do, Annie?

Too late.

You know, Annie,
perhaps it isn't all up with you.

Perhaps I could help you.

I don't think there's a place
with my girls...

but I'm sure
I could do something.

She's gone, Miss Lily.

Yes.

Did you see that?

The little minx flirted
with the prince of Wales.

Commissioner, there's been
another murder by the Ripper.

Are you sure it was the Ripper again?

The report said it was
a murder just like the others, sir.

Where was it? Whitechapel?

- Yes, sir.
- All right.

To Lily Bonner and her beautiful,
talented troupe.

- Long life.
- Long life.

London is yours, Lily,
and if I were lord mayor...

I'd give you the keys to the city.

Miss Bonner.

You know, champagne
has a special significance for me.

As I was growing up
in the old Limehouse District...

Champagne was only a remote word.

She is very beautiful,
if I may say so, sir.

Mm-hmm. Wait here, Bates.

Dislike very much interrupting your party,
Miss Bonner.

It's a matter of utmost importance
to Scotland Yard.

Sounds fascinating,
Inspector... Warwick.

And how can I help
Scotland Yard?

I want to ask you about a woman who came to
see you before your performance this evening-

- a certain Annie Rowley.
- Yes, she was here.

I felt terribly sorry for her.

How much do you know about her?

Not much, I'm afraid.
Why, Inspector?

She has become another victim
of Jack the Ripper.

Can you tell me if she was with anyone?

No. She was alone.

Someone said a man was seen near the place
where Annie Rowley was found-

a man carrying a small black bag
and wearing an ulster.

Of course, that description
fits thousands of people...

but you saw no such man?

No.

No, I saw no one like that.

Finally got Lily settled
for the night. Poor thing.

She thought she was so excited
she couldn't sleep...

but she dropped off
while I was talking to her.

That's possible.

I just opened it.

I'm thinking.

- Thinking.
- You know, that man from Scotland Yard...

said the Ripper was carrying
a little black bag.

All he said was,
there was a report...

that a man carrying a black bag
was seen in the vicinity of the murder.

And Mr. Slade came to us the night
of the other murder...

and all he had with him
was a little black bag.

And tonight he took his black bag
with him when he went out.

- He did not.
- Yes, he did.

His bag is not black,
and he didn't take it with him tonight.

- William, he did.
- Would you stake your oath on that?

Your solemn oath in a court of law?

So you're not sure
of the color of his bag...

nor that he had it with him
when he went out.

You're always leaping
to illogical conclusions...

which you call thinking.

And the window.

Oh, I'm sorry, dear.
I forgot.

Women can sense things, William.
Now you know that's true.

Remember when I said something
had happened to my sister Sophie...

and we found out that she'd fallen
and broken her hip?

And remember-

What are you looking at?

It's Mr. Slade.

- He's just coming in.
- Why not? He lives here.

He creeps.

You can hardly hear him move.

Naturally he creeps.
It's 3:00 in the morning.

Do you think he should come in dancing
and singing and waking up the whole house?

He stopped at Lily's door.

He did?

- The window.
- Oh.

- More tea, dear?
- Hmm.

Paper says that the murderer
used his knife in ways quite unprintable.

Ridiculous.
How can a knife be used unprintably?

- Tea, dear?
- Hmm.

Queen Victoria's issued
a statement.

"She has told Commissioner Warren
that no married man...

"could possibly be to blame
for these murders...

"and therefore every
bachelor in London...

should be rounded up immediately."

- Tea?
- What a wise queen.

Now all Scotland Yard
has to do is round up a million men...

and ask them if they
are Jack the Ripper.

Well, she's right.
No married man would do such a thing.

Oh, she's so gay, even in the morning.

Good morning.

Isn't it a beautiful world?

- All the reviews are raves.
- Why, of course.

Don't say it.

- Don't say what, dear?
- "I wonder who that can be."

Oh. I'll go, Daisy.

Hello. I'm Paul Warwick
of Scotland Yard again.

Oh. Oh, yes.
Do come in.

- Good morning, Mr. Warwick.
- Hello, Miss Bonner.

I'm sorry to bother you
so early in the morning...

but it was important
that I talk to you again.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- Do come in and have a cup of tea.
- Thank you.

- I'll get it, dear. - Did you know
I found out last night after you left...

that Annie Rowley
sent me some flowers?

Oh, yes. As a matter of fact,
that was my excuse-

I mean reason-
for calling.

The stage doorman told me.

I'd like to find out
what florist the flowers came from.

Oh, I'm sorry.
I didn't keep the box.

Well, it was a possible lead.
Though it did no help to Scotland Yard...

- it did give me the opportunity-
- Good morning.

I beg your pardon. I
didn't mean to interrupt.

Mr. Slade, this is Mr. Warwick.

How do you do?

Mr. Warwick's
from Scotland Yard.

He's engaged on the Ripper case.
Now tell me, Inspector.

Is it really true that this time
the Ripper was seen?

Yes. I was about to ask that too.

- He may have been.
- I don't think you'll ever catch him.

- Why not?
- Well, five murders-

This time Whitechapel
was swarming with police...

and yet you didn't even
come near to finding him.

You don't know any more now than
you did in the beginning.

- Yes, we do.
- Oh? What?

He's of average height, he's very quick
and strong and he's left-handed.

Perhaps he carries a black bag,
which would contain his knives.

- What I want to know is, why does he do it?
- There are many theories.

The favorite one is that he's a maniac
who kills at random.

- Do you believe that?
- No.

Hmm. Well, he may not kill
at random, but he's not sane.

You're a medical man, Mr. Slade.
Would you say he was sane?

I tend to agree with Miss Lily.
The police will not find him.

- Why not?
- The police are searching for a criminal.

In reality, there are no criminals.

There are only people doing what they
must do because the are who they are.

So perhaps the police are searching
for someone who doesn't exist.

Well, if my theories are correct...

I shall make Jack the Ripper's own hands
tie the noose that will hang him.

I still don't see how you worked it out
that he was left-handed.

- Uh, do you, Mr. Slade?
- I've intruded too long.

I really only came down
for the morning paper.

Thank you.

Have you all finished with it?

Oh, yes. Sorry.
Should have sent one up to you.

Thank you.
Excuse me.

Odd how that dog acts.

Seems to have fallen
in love with him.

Mr. Slade?

Mr. Slade.
Is something burning?

Don't come up here.

I'm sorry there's
an odor, Mrs. Harley.

There was something
I had to burn. My work.

I'll open a window.

Just leave the tray
in my sitting room, please.

Oh-

Oh, I was thinking
I would have to clean the room today.

Whenever you wish, Mrs. Harley.

You'd be a darling if you could have
that dress mended by tonight.

I'll try, Miss Lily.

You were so good
in the show, you know.

I don't think it half matters
what you wear on the stage.

It does, Daisy, and so
does what I don't wear.

- I shall be at the hairdresser's most
of the time. - Yes, Miss Lily.

Good afternoon.
You're going out early.

Yes. I have
just completed an experiment.

I- I must test it.

And when you've
tested it and proved it...

what will you know, Mr. Slade?

A little more about life and death.

I wonder what else you need
to know about life...

except that it's
wonderfully worth living.

And of death,
what is there to find out...

except it is the end of life?

That is a philosophy for a young and
beautiful woman who is the toast of London.

Thank you.

Which way are you going?

Your way, Miss Bonner.

Isn't that what your
enraptured young men would say?

I think they might.

What do you say, Mr. Slade?

- I am going to work.
- Oh? Where's that?

Everyone is so curious about me.

Very well.

I am going
to the university hospital...

where there are
laboratory facilities that I use.

I may not come home
until late...

and then your charming aunt
will become suspicious.

And soon, because I am not like everyone
else, she will ask me to leave.

I've had it all before.

Poor Mr. Slade.

Walk with me to the cab
across the square.

She won't ask you
to leave, Mr. Slade.

If she did, we'd all object.

- Would you?
- Of course.

I'm afraid you've been alone too much.

That makes one
quite broody, you know?

- I am broody? - A little.
And when you're like that, you miss things.

There's so much delight
in the world.

The whole sky,
with the sure sun in it.

The sound of laughter, and of music.

The sweet enjoyment
of a man's kiss.

Do I shock you, Mr. Slade?

You are an astonishing woman,
Miss Bonner.

Oh, dear.
I don't know what to do.

Ooh. Where is William?

Why doesn't he come home?

But what is it, Mrs. Harley?
What is it?

Never mind, Daisy.
I can't tell you now.

I must see Mr. Harley first.

Oh! Lily is walking with him.

- Lily's walking with that man.
- What man?

Why, it's only Mr. Slade
she's with.

Daisy, Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

Oh, William,
thank heavens you're home.

- You must stop them.
- What are you getting at?

Don't let her go off
with that man.

Helen, you've been nipping
at the sherry again.

Oh, please!

William, Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

- Look at that.
- What is it?

The other morning when I took him his
breakfast, I smelled something burning.

He said it was his experiment.
It was his black bag.

He burned his bag, William,
right after he found out...

- The police were looking for a man with a bag.
- I see.

- Oh, is that all you can say?
- Very sensible of him.

- What?
- I said, very sensible of him.

Nobody can afford to own
a bag like that now.

Come here.

A man was mobbed this morning in Trafalgar
Square. They nearly tore him to pieces.

Why? Because he was carrying
a little black bag. This is my black bag.

I didn't burn it because I didn't
think of it. I just hid it in here.

Anyone who owns such a bag
is under suspicion.

The whole city has become hysterical.

People are flocking to the police
to inform on their neighbors.

Do we have to have this
nonsense in our own home?

If Slade wanted to be rid of his bag...

he wouldn't leave that
around for you to find.

The man isn't a fool.

You're just a little
overwrought, that's all, old girl.

How about a spot of sherry?

I think you better have one too, Daisy.

Oh, I don't mind if I do, sir.

I rather wish we could
talk again sometime.

You've done something good for me.

Then perhaps you will
have tea with me.

- Tomorrow?
- I'd be delighted.

Thank you, Miss Bonner.

Hello, Chief.

We're in trouble.
A meeting has been called.

The high commissioner resigned
this morning, and Her Majesty accepted.

- Resigned?
- Too much pressure on the Ripper case.

If we could find a fingerprint-

Fingerprints?
That won't help.

I know that theory-
No two prints alike.

It's nonsense.

No, we'll have to do better than
that, Paul, or we'll have no jobs.

Perhaps you could
put aside your social life...

and help us do something
about the Ripper, eh?

Yes, sir.

Must you stop?

If I must choose between music and you,
I-I will choose you.

More tea?

Yes, thank you.

Do you enjoy
Robert Browning's poetry?

Sometimes.
Depends on my mood.

I read this author
or that one as I feel like it.

I like to pretend
that it was all written for me.

Perhaps it was.

Every so often, a woman lives
for whom men do all things.

I'm only a woman
like any other.

Not like any other.

You don't know, Miss Bonner,
about the others.

Are you saying that you like me?

Miss Bonner, it has done me
great good to know you.

It has? How?

Oh, I-I'm afraid it's a long
and very personal story...

and I should dislike
troubling you with it.

I already know.

You are a man very much alone...

and you need to find
those who will love you.

And when you do,
you won't be lonely anymore.

Those who will love me?

Is it really true
that you dislike actresses?

I seem to have touched on
an old wound. I'm sorry.

No!

Yes. I will tell you.

My mother was an actress.

She was one of the most angelically
beautiful women who ever lived-

exquisitely graceful,
talented and captivating.

I loved her deeply.

Deeply.

She had the face of heaven...

and the wretched heart of Jezebel.

For every aspect of beauty
she possessed...

she contained
a double portion of evil.

- I hated her.
- But I thought you said you loved her.

One can love the beauty
and hate the evil.

Didn't you know that, Miss Bonner?

Come.

I will show you.

I didn't mean to do this,
but now I've begun, I will finish.

I will show you this face,
and you will see for yourself...

that there was no way for
my poor father to know...

that she was cunning
and faithless and rotten.

It's not difficult to understand
that my father fell in love with her.

Perhaps she never met a man
she didn't entice.

She knew no love, only lust.

She betrayed my father
a hundred times...

and when she finally left him
for a young, rich Frenchman...

- my father killed himself.
- Oh.

Not with a gun,
with absinthe-

with a thousand
green glasses of absinthe.

Part of my growing up
was spent with a drunken man...

who searched the face of every
passing girl in Paris-

who spent 10 years
dying of a broken heart.

And your mother?
Did you never see her again?

Yes.

Yes, I saw her.

She had become
a woman of the streets.

And it was in the streets
that she died.

Then they must be
in Mr. Slade's room.

Lily.
Excuse me, Mr. Slade.

- Inspector Warwick is here to see Lily.
- I forgot.

I, on the other hand,
did not forget, and here I am.

Mr. Slade.

We're going to the Black Museum at Scotland
Yard. Would you like to come along?

Is it all right if Mr. Slade
comes with us?

I don't believe Mr. Slade
would really enjoy himself.

Do come.

Yes. Yes, I believe
I'd like to come.

I'll be just a moment.

And these are the death masks
of various murderers.

That one was publicly hanged
outside Newgate Prison six months ago.

You can see the rope marks on the neck.

You treat them like trophies-

like a stuffed elk head
mounted over the fireplace.

Yes, a little. But these were
more dangerous than an elk.

- Man, unfortunately, is the most dangerous
of all beasts. - Man is not beast.

Murderers are beasts.

There are the ropes that were actually
used to hang these men.

To me, it's the noose
that's the wickedest looking.

It hangs so calmly,
making a graceful loop, neatly tied-

a simple design, by which
a man's breath is caught...

and forfeited for his crime.

I'm afraid I'm making
Mr. Slade a little queasy.

If you'd prefer
to wait for us outside-

It's not the rope. It's your policeman's
philosophy, Inspector Warwick.

Perhaps I'm too used to murder.
I must seem callous.

Miss Bonner, I have
a question to ask you.

Just one?
I have dozens to ask you.

- You too?
- Yes.

For instance,
what was that used for?

Oh, that was used
in the Tufnell Park murder.

And would you come Friday
for tea at my home?

- I'd like some friends to meet you.
- Hmm, I see.

What was that used for,
Inspector Warwick?

That is a poker, with which some poor chap
beat his sweetheart to death.

- Why did he do it? - We never found out
exactly, but my belief at this moment...

is that she failed to answer
some perfectly simple question...

like "Will you come to tea?"

Very well, Inspector. I'll come.

That table is expressly reserved
for one murderer.

The Ripper?

Those are pictures of the five victims.

Ah, there you are, Paul.

I wanted to pay my compliments
to our distinguished and beautiful visitor.

May I present Chief Inspector Melville,
Miss Bonner.

- How do you do?
- How do you do, Miss Bonner?

- And Mr. Slade.
- Mr. Slade.

I've been to the palace,
Miss Bonner...

where I heard Prince Edward say the most
complimentary things about you.

- Why, thank you.
- Also, I was told that Her Majesty has decided...

that the Ripper can't
possibly be an Englishman.

Now I suppose we shall have to
investigate all foreigners.

Not long ago, we were
to investigate all bachelors...

because he couldn't
possibly be a married man.

Has Paul told you that he's our expert
on Jack the Ripper?

He even claims to be able to predict
the time of each murder.

There is a strange periodicity
to the Ripper's crimes.

It's as if the need to kill surges inside
of him up to a peak, is satisfied...

and then is quiet until the compulsion
slowly builds up again to another climax.

- When do you expect another?
- Two days ago.

He's broken the pattern now.
Usually it's every five or six days.

It could come anytime.
Perhaps he is sated.

- Sated?
- If you're ready to go, Miss Bonner...

- I would be delighted to take you home.
- Oh, not yet.

Then I hope you will
forgive me if I go on.

I have seen all I care to see
of Inspector Warwick's little museum.

Inspector Melville.

Inspector Warwick.

Your police methods will never trap
the one you call Jack the Ripper.

You may be right
about the periodicity...

but I doubt if the beast
you describe can be sated.

He must do his work again.

Good afternoon.

Them fellas on horses have a real
cushy job of it, all right, huh?

Aye.

Five thousand of us.

We ought to lay our hands
on that fella pretty soon.

Aye, soon.
And I hope it's me what does it.

To make up for-you know.

Oh, whoosh, man, whoosh. It wasn't your
fault that poor Katy got murdered.

How could you know
that she didn't live...

- where she said she did?
- Aye, that's all very well.

Oh, for the love of Mike,
will you cheer up?

You're depressin'
the life out of me. Shh.

That's an Irish voice, I tell ya.

I'd stake me soul on it.

I suppose you wouldn't consider
a little drop of somethin' to, uh...

help guard ourselves against
the cool of the night?

Come along, man.

- Thank you.
- Come again, Mary.

- Oh, good evening, sirs.
- Good evening.

- Good evening.
- It was like a breath of home to hear you, miss.

- Oh, you're an Irishman.
- Well, there's no denyin' that.

Well now, would you be averse
to walkin' a girl to her home?

- Oh, I'd like nothin' better, miss.
- Oh, you're very kind.

I've only just come to London
to seek me fortune on the stage.

And mayhap we'll get there if I don't
have to be walking home alone at night.

Well, you'll not be walkin' home
alone on my beat, Miss, uh-

Lenihan. Mary Lenihan.

Ah, it is the breath of home
to hear you, Miss Lenihan.

Uh, would it be askin' too much
to hear you sing again?

I heard very little of that song
in the pub back there.

Why, sure, I will.

Me thanks to you, gentlemen.
Good night, sir.

- Good night.
- It was our pleasure, Miss Lenihan.

And... good luck to you.

Thanks.

Aye, she has a sweet voice,
but we have our duty.

Come on, lad.

No. Please.

What's the matter?

What happened?

- How long ago?
- We just left her. Only a few moments.

- Did anyone come out of here?
- We saw no one, sir.

Then he might still
be in the building.

Put a cordon around this block.

- Yes, sir.
- Search all these buildings.

No one on the roof, sir.

He can't get out of this,
if he's human.

I'm afraid he isn't human, sir.

Not and do what he did
to that girl.

What are you doing?

I am burning my ulster.

Don't come too close.

Those-What are those stains?
They look like blood.

I was carrying a solution in a glass
container-I-Part of my experiment.

I fell and it broke.
My ulster became contaminated.

I- I must be quick, drastic...

or the contamination
could easily spread.

Contamination?

- You mean it may carry a disease?
- Yes.

- What happened to the dog?
- I'm afraid I hurt him.

He jumped up to greet me.
I didn't want him to touch the ulster.

Dogs can carry human disease.

There. It's done.

You were right about the Ripper.

You were probably busy
and didn't hear.

- Hear what?
- There was another Ripper murder tonight.

You said he would do it.
How did you know?

I didn't know.

Your Inspector Warwick
made me angry.

I don't know why I said it.

What is it?

Everyone distrusts me.
I feel it. Even you.

I work very hard.
I do what I must do.

I- I am myself.

I don't distrust you.

Forgive me.
I'm-I'm very tired.

Is there anything I can do for you?

We must each live with ourselves.

Yes.

What's happened?

What's that smell?
Anything wrong?

- No, Uncle.
- I'm sorry. I had to use the stove.

Hmm.

All this writing about investigations
and not a single clue yet.

William, we must go to the police.

What for?

I don't believe Mr. Slade burned his ulster
because it was contaminated.

He wanted to get rid
of those blood spots.

Well, uh, Lily said
she believed him.

- I'm sorry.
- Hmm? What's the matter?

Well, here's his breakfast tray...

but I don't want to take it.

I don't know what to think of him.

I'll take the tray
and settle this business once and for all.

William. William.

Don't do anything silly.

I never do anything silly.

Great heavens, man.
Don't you ever sleep?

This experiment is very difficult.

Any more danger
of that contamination?

I think not.

You are suspicious too.

Well, I am a pathologist, Mr. Harley,
and I am working on blood diseases.

You can check on my work
at the university hospital.

Hmm. Of Course. Of course.

Did you come to ask me to move away?
It has happened before.

Move away?
No, sir. Certainly not.

Why, you're perfectly
welcome here...

and I'll see to it
that you stay welcome.

And now then, you-
you'd better eat some breakfast, what?

- Thank you.
- Eat hearty.

Come in.

Oh, do come in, Mr. Slade.

I came to thank you
for your reminder.

- The theater.
- Oh, yes.

- I will come tonight.
- Splendid.

I'm so happy. I think
it will do you a lot of good...

to forget work for a while
and really enjoy yourself.

I believe there's some tea.

- Now suppose you take off your ulster and
stay a minute. - I'm not disturbing you?

No. Of course not. I was merely writing
a few thank you notes for flowers.

And most particularly to
Inspector Warwick?

I shall be able
to thank him in person.

He's coming tonight too.

You don't like
Inspector Warwick, do you?

He thinks you are
a most interesting man.

He asked me all sorts
of questions about you.

Wait here, Bates.

Yes, may I help you?

I wish to inquire if you have a
Dr. Slade in your hospital.

Dr. Slade?
No, we do not.

Thank you.

We have a Mr. Slade
who works in research.

He's a pathologist.

- Do you wish to see him?
- No, not immediately. Thank you.

Just as well.
He isn't here.

Have you seen him recently?

As recently as last night.

- Is he here very much?
- Almost every day and night.

He works late quite often.

He's a most respected member
of our staff.

- Good evening, Daisy.
- Oh, good evening, Inspector Warwick.

Am I too early?

Oh, I think Miss Lily
will be down in a minute.

Will you sit in there, sir?

- What's the trouble, Daisy?
- Oh.

I don't know.
I'm as jumpy as a cat.

What's the matter?

Well, it's the back and forth
and back and forth.

Back and forth?

Well, first Mrs. Harley
says he's the Ripper himself.

And then Mr. Harley
proves it's all nonsense.

What do you mean?

Well, first he burns his black bag...

and then Mr. Harley
pooh-poohs that...

and show us his own
hidden in the chest.

And then he burns his ulster,
which had all the blood on it.

- Daisy, wait a moment. What are you
talking about? - Well, Mr. Slade-

Oh, it's all mixed up.

And I'm not supposed to say.

Mr. Harley says
it's just woman's hysteria.

Wait a minute.

- Good evening, Inspector Warwick.
- Oh, good evening, sir.

- You've come for Lily?
- Yes.

Perhaps a nip of sherry
will help us pass the time.

Mr. Harley...

what is this about Slade?

Helen's been at you, has she?

Well, no. As a matter of fact,
Daisy mentioned it.

Look here, old man. Everything about Slade
can be logically explained.

Except one thing.
The dog's suddenly gone sour on him.

Still, that doesn't
prove anything, does it?

You'd better tell me
about it, Mr. Harley.

I tell you this, Lily.
No matter what you say...

I don't believe you ought to spend
too much time alone with him.

Aunt Helen.
Dear, sweet Aunt Helen.

What if I were to tell you that it was
Mr. Slade who was in danger, not I?

Why, Lily!

I think this thing
can be settled tonight.

This is a copy of a thumbprint
the Ripper left in the room...

- of Mary Lenihan, the last victim.
- Thumbprint?

There's a theory that there are no two
fingerprints in the world that are exactly alike.

- I happen to subscribe to it.
- Hmm.

Could you get me something
that Slade has held in his right hand?

A glass or something?

Well, frankly, I don't know.

Mr. Harley, wouldn't you
feel more secure if we cleared it up?

Yes, I suppose so.
The fact is, the fellow's gone out.

We might try
looking about his room.

Well, that would be fine.

I rather hate to, you know.
Prying into a man's belongings.

Mr. Harley.

Yes.

Helen tells me Mr. Slade
frequently reads the Bible.

Murderers don't read Bibles, do they?

There might be some prints here.

I'd like to take something smaller-
something he wouldn't immediately miss.

Oh, this will do.

Now something more.

Locked, eh?

I say, should you do that, old man?

A policeman never knows
what he should do...

until it's proved to be the right thing.

Oh, this probably has both prints.

Handkerchief.

- I say-- I'll bring it back...
and your handkerchief.

Don't fuss, Aunt Helen.

Gentlemen don't mind waiting for ladies.
They're quite used to it.

- What do we do?
- Shh.

- Do you have everything, dear?
- Yes, Auntie. Stop worrying.

Well, I can't help it.
There's something in the air tonight.

She's feeling things again.

I thought Mr. Slade had gone out.

There's a light in here.

- What is this?
- I'm sorry, Miss Bonner.

You've been snooping
through Mr. Slade's things.

Very well. There's been a mystery
about this gentleman...

and I wish to clear it up
once and for all.

I'm quite tired of this.
Why don't you leave the poor man alone?

- He went out early to avoid meeting you.
- Oh? Where did he go?

He'll be at the theater later
to see me.

Perhaps you can
hang him there.

I merely want
to ask some questions.

- What did you find of his?
- I found this.

- That's his mother.
- His mother?

Of course.
He told me about her.

Poor woman. She died an alcoholic
in the slums of Whitechapel.

What else did he tell you?

He seemed quite confused
about his feelings for her-

love and resentment
all mixed up together.

Please, Paul,
leave the poor man alone.

You defend him with quite a lot
of spirit, Miss Bonner.

I know him better than any of you.
I like him. I feel sorry for him.

As a friend, I should like to respect
your fondness for Mr. Slade...

but I am also a policeman.

You most certainly are.

You needn't bother to take me
to the theater tonight.

Good night, Inspector.

- If I may say so, sir-
- And if I said you may not say it?

Then I wouldn't, sir.

- If I may ask, sir-
- Bates.

If it seems to you I'm in a nasty mood
tonight, you're right, and I have cause.

No, you may not ask.
You may not say so.

You may do absolutely nothing
except breathe quietly.

Yes, sir.

Nothing matches, and every print
of his right hand is here.

- It's not Slade, that's all.
- Sir-

This print couldn't have been made
by the Ripper's left hand.

Not unless every detective
at the yard is wrong.

That's most unlikely,
isn't it, sir?

The victim's cuts show that
the Ripper used his knife...

from right to left across the throat
while attacking from behind.

That means he used
his left hand.

He took his victims like this.

The cut of the knife was like this.

Sir, have you observed
Mr. Slade to be left-handed?

No, I haven't.

But he could still
use his left hand...

if he attacked from behind.

You know, for the first time
it occurs to me...

that the Ripper need not
have attacked from behind.

In which case, he could make the same cut
from the front with his right hand.

- Yes, sir.
- If that's so, we must find a left thumbprint...

to match the print of the Ripper's.

About that portrait, sir-
I have a peculiar memory for faces.

- You do?
- Yes, sir.

I believe that to be
the face of Ann Lawrence.

Even to the mole
on the left cheek.

Bates, you're right. Slade's mother
was the first Ripper victim.

Where is Slade?
Have you seen him?

Yes, he's right down there.
He's gone.

Lovely, lovely.
You were lovely.

- They liked us, didn't they?
- They worshipped you.

Excuse me.

- Am I under arrest, Mr. Policeman?
- Where is Slade?

Inspector Warwick,
I'm very sick of all this.

- He's the Ripper.
- Oh, do go away. You're out of your mind.

Lelah, I don't want you
to let anyone in.

There's a gentleman
in here, Miss Lily.

Hello.

May I... talk to you alone?

I have to make a change.
Uh, there isn't much time.

All right, Lelah.

Please.

Well, how did you like the show?

You are exquisite, Lily.

Good. For a moment, I thought you disliked
the whole thing. You looked so glum.

I hated it. I hated your beauty
being exposed for everyone to ogle.

I hated the looks on men's faces.

Well, without those looks
on their faces, I'd be finished.

You're more wonderful and more-

more sweetly beautiful
than anyone I've ever known.

Everything in my life
has changed because of you.

Help me.

Help me.

You pick the strangest moments.

I need you, Lily.

Only you can save me.

- Save you?
- Come away with me right now.

Come away with me-
anywhere in the world you say.

I want to live close to you
without sharing you.

Close. Close.

I think there's something
you should understand.

I'm fond of you,
but I'm not ready to be taken over.

I like a man with passion, but I don't want
a slave, and I don't want to be one.

Besides, I wouldn't dream
of giving up the theater.

All I've said makes no difference to you.

I didn't say that.

You want to go on exciting men
to wanting you...

go on using your beauty
to corrupt, to degrade.

- Please.
- You're mocking me!

Miss Lily?

The same as my mother.
The same as all of them.

- Miss Lily, are you all right?
- Mocking love, living for lust.

You are evil.

Your beauty is evil.
It must be cut away.

No. No.

You said you loved me.
Please.

Miss Lily?

Miss Lily?
Miss Lily, are you all right?

Lily!

Are you all right?

Halt!

Get a doctor.

Hey!

Yah! Yah!

Yah! Hah!

Yah!

- Can't you go faster, man?
- Hah!

Are you hurt, sir?

I am a doctor.

Take care of my horses.
I must hurry.

- Where is he?
- You mean the doctor?

He turned the corner too fast
and crashed a wheel.

Quickly, man,
that was the Ripper!

- Circle around that way.
- Here! Over this way!

- What is it?
- What are they after?

Shine your lights over here!

- It's the Ripper!
- He's in the river.

- There's something! Over there!
- Where?

Look! By the bridge!

It's too dark,
and it's too deep.

We'll never get him now.

Not so dark and not so deep
as where he's going.