All language subtitles for Frenzy

When I was a lad,

a journey down the rivers of England
was a truly blithe experience.

"Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,"
as Wordsworth has it.

Brooklime and flag iris,

plantain and marsh marigolds
rioted on the banks.

And kingfishers
swooped and darted about,

their shadows racing
over the brown trout.

Well, ladies and gentlemen,

I'm happy to be
able to tell you

that these ravishing sights

will be restored to us again
in the near future,

thanks to the diligent efforts
of your government and your local authority.

All the water above this point
will soon be clear.

Clear of industrial effluent.

Clear of detergents.

Clear of the waste products
of our society,

with which for so long we have
poisoned our rivers and canals.

Let us rejoice that
pollution will soon be banished

from the waters
of this river,

and that there will
soon be no foreign...

Look!

What is it?

It's a woman!

What's that
'round her neck?

She's been strangled!

Looks like a tie.

Yes, it's a tie,
all right.

Another necktie murder.

Come on.
Move out of the way.

Please come away
from here, Sir George.

It's another
necktie murder.

What are the police doing about it?
That's what I'd like to know.

Why can't they
find him?

He's a regular
Jack the Ripper.

Not on your life.
He used to carve 'em up.

Sent a bird's kidney
to Scotland Yard once,

wrapped in a bit of
violet writing paper.

That'll do, Herb.
I'm quite sure the lady

doesn't want to hear
any more about it.

Or was it
a bit of a liver?

I say, it's not
my club tie, is it?

Cheers,
Squadron Leader.

Chin chin.

Good morning.

Look, it may come as something of
a surprise to you, Blaney,

but in this pub we sell liquor,
we don't give it away.

Still less do we expect
our employees to steal it.

I was going to pay for it.

Oh, yeah,
I'm sure you were.

Well, that's the last drink you're gettin'
on this house. Go on. Get out.

I told you I was
going to pay for it.

I always pay for my drinks.

Even for your
watered-down gin.

Now, don't come the innocent with me,
you bastard!

My stocks have been
well down this past month.

Now, you watch
what you're saying!

What, to a thief?

What's going on?

Our friend here says that
I've been pinching his booze.

Ridiculous!
He always pays.

- How would you know?
- Well, I work with him, don't I?

And what else?

What's that
supposed to mean?

Look, just keep out of this, will you, Babs?
Come on, Blaney, outside.

- You're fired.
- You can't do that.

He never stole
nothing in his life.

He puts the money in the till.
I've seen him.

A thief or a boozer,
it's all the same to me.

I don't need
either one as a barman,

quite apart from
the fact that half the time

he's pulling your tits
instead of pulling pints.

- Now, look here...
- He can't keep his hands off you.

The customers are
always talking about it.

And what about you?
Always fingering me.

You keep your lying mouth shut, Babs,
or you can get out as well.

I'm off.

Keep the change!

I'll send for
my things later.

Just a minute!

There's a little matter of
£10 I advanced you on your salary.

Are you planning to
steal that as well?

There you are.
You know what to do with them.

You shouldn't let him
talk to you like that.

I know.

What are you
gonna do, love?

I don't know.

Another pub perhaps.

Are you all right?

You just gave him back
the 10 quid you borrowed.

I had to.
He didn't think I had it.

Don't worry,
I've got a bit left.

Well, this is Covent Garden,
not the garden of love.

How 'bout starting work?

Oh, get stuffed.

Look after yourself.

I'll call you.

Thanks, guv.

- Hello, Dick.
- Hello, Bob.

I was just coming over
for a quick one.

Why aren't you back there polishing
the sausages or watering the gin,

or whatever it is you do there
before opening time?

I have just been
given the push.

What for?

You weren't pissing
in the beer again?

Forsythe and I had
a set-to.

Oh, him.

You duffed him up, I hope.

He's a bastard.

He was on my back
right from the start.

From squadron leader to barman
in one easy lesson!

He wouldn't leave it alone.

He's the boss' brother-in-law,
isn't he?

- Forsythe?
- Yeah, I think so.

Brother-in-laws
are the worst.

Or should I say,
"Brothers-in-law"?

What are you gonna do now?

I haven't decided yet.

Well, if you're in schtuk,
you know where to come.

Thanks.

George!

That's the last one.

Thanks, Mr. Rusk.

Why don't you go
and have a chat with your ex?

She's doin' all right,
isn't she?

I haven't seen her
for ages, as you know.

There's no use
opening all that up again.

No, I suppose not.

Well, as I say,
you can always rely on me.

You're all right
for a few quid?

Yes. Thanks all the same.

'Cause if you're not...

No, no. Really.
I just got paid.

Well...

Have some grapes.

Here you are.
I'll get you a box.

Finest muscats,
fresh in this morning.

Here you are. Take one of these back
to your girlfriend, Babs.

Get her to peel you one.
"Beulah, peel me a grape."

That's what my ol' mum used
to say when I was a kid.

Well, at least you
won't starve to death.

Are you sure you don't need
a few bob?

No, I'm okay.

Well, you don't look okay.
Anything else the matter?

No. What should be?

I don't know.

Well, remember, anything I can do,
anytime, it's a pleasure.

Ta.

It won't be the same
in the Old Globe now.

Well, Babs
is still there.

Yeah, that's true.

And she's
prettier than you.

A matter of opinion.
Bye, now.

Hey, wait a minute.
Here, give us your paper.

Here you are.
This will make you a fortune.

This afternoon in the 3:00,
Coming Up.

Never been out before,
but very well-fancied at home.

Now, this is
a four-horse race,

and the other three
have all won before.

So she'll start about
20-to-1, maybe more.

20-to-1?

Put your word on it.
She can't lose.

A little birdie told me,
and my little birdies are reliable.

Well, thanks again, Bob.

Anytime.

Don't forget,
Bob's your uncle.

Good morning, Mr. Rusk.

Hello, Sergeant.
What's new?

Not much.

This necktie fellow's giving them
a bit of a headache, though.

Can't seem to get
a line on him.

Have you tried
advertising?

Oh, very funny.

Look, you're one
for the birds.

Ask 'em all if they've
ever had a near miss

with a bloke like that,
would you?

Or if any of their
girlfriends have.

Sure.

Mind you, half of them haven't got
their heads screwed on right,

let alone knowing
when they've been screwed off.

Have you met
my friend Dick B...

Funny fella.

Well, don't worry, Sergeant.
I'll put the word about.

Thanks, Mr. Rusk.

A large brandy.

What're you
gonna have, Doctor?

A pint and a morsel of
cheese'll do me fine.

Let me order us a hot lunch.
We have plenty of time.

Hello, Mr. Usher.

What's good
today, Maisie?

Stick to the shepherd's.
I would.

Right. That's two shepherd's pies,
then, please.

And two pints.

I see our necktie murderer's
been up to it again.

I saw the newspaper headlines
as we came away from the court.

Hmm.

I wouldn't envy the lot of any medical man
giving evidence at that trial.

Why not?

Why, surely
it's easier in these days

of legally diminished
responsibility.

In many cases
you may be right.

But not here.

The man who's
killing these women

is a criminal,
sexual psychopath.

And the legal profession has
never really known how to treat them.

I suppose you could
call them social misfits.

We were just talking about
the tie murderer, Maisie.

You better watch out.

He rapes 'em first,
doesn't he?

Yes, I believe he does.

Well, I suppose
it's nice to know

that every cloud
has a silver lining.

Oh.

On the surface,
in casual conversation,

they appear as ordinary,
likable adult fellows.

But emotionally they remain
as dangerous children,

whose conduct may revert to a primitive,
subhuman level at any moment.

Large brandy.

You mean they'll
kill at any time,

just as the mood
takes them?

Exactly.

And, being governed
by the pleasure principle,

they're particularly
dangerous

when their desires
are being frustrated.

Are you deaf?
I distinctly said a large brandy.

There's scarcely enough
in that to cover the bottom.

Actually, you can
make it a triple.

I wonder if the police have got
any sort of line on this fellow.

Oh, I shouldn't think so.

With psychopaths there's usually
no linking motive.

Let's hope
he slips up soon.

In one way,
I rather hope he doesn't.

Well, we haven't had
a good, juicy series

of sex murders
since Christie.

And they're so good
for the tourist trade.

Foreigners somehow expect the squares
of London to be fog-wreathed,

full of hansom cabs and littered
with ripped whores, don't you think?

Hey, Dick!

What about
Coming Up then?

No, I'm afraid I haven't any time.
Thanks all the same.

No, Coming Up, the horse.
It won by a mile.

20-to-1!
What did I tell you?

Made a fortune.
Thanks a lot.

Anytime.

Hey, wait a minute!

This is my ma.
Ma, meet Dick Blaney,

the best pilot who ever
pulled a pint of beer.

Hello, Mrs. Rusk.

Pleased to meet you,
I'm sure.

She lives down in Kent,
in the Garden of England!

Still got the grapes then?

Oh, yeah. Keep 'em for later.

You tell her to take the pips out.
They're bad for the appendix.

Ta-ta.

Bye. Thanks again for the tip.

I told you,
Bob's your uncle.

20-to-1!

20-to-bloody-1!
Christ! Damn it to hell!

Well, my dears,

I'm sure I can say on behalf
of Mrs. Blaney as well as myself,

that it's moments
like this that make

all our little efforts
here so worthwhile.

You mean, you just don't
do it for the money?

Of course, Mrs. Davisson,
this is a business,

and financial
considerations prevail.

But our ultimate satisfaction is
the making happy of two lonely people.

Nice of you, Miss Barling.
Keep up the good work!

Well, it's up to us now,
I guess, eh?

Yeah. And good-bye,
Mr. Salt.

Bye, Miss Barling.
Thank you.

It's been our pleasure.
And I know you'll both be very happy.

After all, I know you're
both mad about beekeeping.

And there's nothing
like a shared interest.

I'm sure we will be.
Come on, Neville. Best foot forward.

I suppose
we should go straight

and get the marriage
license, my dear.

What's your rush?

Let's go to my place first.

Did you know, Neville,
that my late husband, Mr. Davisson,

was up at 5:30 every
morning of his life?

And by the time he brought me
my cup of tea,

which he did
punctually at 9:15,

he would've cleaned the whole house,
and he was so quiet about it,

that in 14 years,
he never woke me once.

Not once!

Oh, a neat man,
was he, then?

He liked a tidy place.

So do I,
come to that.

Dandruff. We'll have to get you
something for that.

Afternoon.

You're new here,
aren't you?

I've been here for over a year now.
What can I do for you, sir?

You can inform Mrs. Blaney

that one of her less
successful exercises

in matrimony has
come to see her.

And who shall
I say is calling?

Mr. Blaney.

Or if you preferred it,
ex-Squadron Leader Blaney,

late of the RAF and
Mrs. Blaney's matrimonial bed.

I see. Is Mrs. Blaney
expecting you?

She must be.

Everybody expects a bad penny
to turn up sooner or later.

Mrs. Blaney, there's a Mr. Blaney
to see you.

Mr. Blaney?
Send him in, will you please, Monica?

Hello, Brenda.

Hello, Richard.

What are you doing here?

I just thought
I'd call around.

Well, come in.
Take a seat.

Thanks.

It's good to see you.

You too. You look fine.

I'll be with you in a minute. I've got
to finish writing up a few notes.

How is everything
then, Brenda?

You making a fortune?

Things are going very well.

Streets of London
thronged with lonely hearts

beating a path
to your door?

That's it.

I'm amazed that in an age

where practically everybody
considers marriage is hell

that you can find
any clients.

Okay, Richard, if you've just come
around here to insult me,

I think, perhaps you...

I'm not insulting you,
for Christ's sake!

Will you please
lower your voice.

Why?

I don't care if Vinegar Joe out there
does hear me.

Why don't you get her married off,
by the way?

Preferably to a 700-pound
Japanese wrestler.

That should iron out
some of her creases a little.

Monica, dear,
it's nearly 4:30.

Why don't you take
the rest of the afternoon off?

I'm sure there's some shopping
you'd like to do.

Well, thank you, Mrs. Blaney,

if you're sure
you don't need me.

I'm quite sure, thank you.
Good night.

Why do you
always come to see me

when you've had
too much to drink?

I don't always come to see you
when I've had too much to drink.

As a matter of fact,
I don't always come to see you.

I haven't seen you
for over a year.

You were half seas
over then, and violent.

I do hope we're not going
to have a repeat of that.

Me violent?

Don't be bloody ridiculous.

Would I raise a hand
to the goddess of love?

What Brenda Blaney brings together
let no man put asunder!

I didn't say
you were violent to me.

But you certainly
acted the fool

and threw the furniture
about a bit.

Just look at
the state you're in.

Really!

Oh, leave me alone.

Bachelors are supposed
to be untidy, aren't they?

I thought tidiness was most women's dowry,
or don't you preach that here?

Oh, we are bitter today.

What's the matter?

I'm sorry.

I had a bad day, that's all.
I lost my job.

How?

Well, I got fired, that's how.

What do you think,
I mislaid it?

For pinching
a glass of brandy.

My employer thought I wasn't
going to put the money in the till.

Till?

I was working, until this morning
that is, as a barman.

And another thing.
I was given a very good horse

by a great friend of mine,
one Bob Rusk.

And it came in at 20-to-1,

and I didn't have enough cash
on me to back it.

I'm sorry.

Well, these things
always go in threes.

I wonder what the rest
of the day has in store.

Dinner with me, I hope.

Well, that, of course,
would be delightful, but...

I mean, of course, on me.

We'll go to my club.

But I must finish
these letters first.

Here's the address,
in case you've forgotten it.

How will it be if we meet there
'round about 7:30?

Fine.

Thanks for a lovely evening.
It was great. I mean that.

Thanks for joining me.

It was a damn sight better than
the leftovers at the Globe,

not that I'm in for
any more of those, of course.

You ought to get
married again, Richard.

Oh, no.

You ought to know I'm no good at it.
How long did we have?

Nine years, was it?

- Ten.
- Ah.

Ten years.

It was a good job
you got out when you did.

I don't know.

I suppose I was lucky
the agency worked out for me.

What you mean is,
that you're lucky

you haven't had to rely on me
these past two years.

I didn't say that.

But you meant it.

Look, Richard,
I suppose some people

are good at organization
and others aren't.

That's all I meant.

And I'm not, I suppose.

Rubbish! You know
what filthy luck I had.

Was it my fault that
the roadhouse didn't go?

It was going fine

- till they opened the bloody motorway.
- I know.

Was it my fault the council tore down
the riding stables?

I know. I know life
can be very unfair.

But you never used to be
sorry for yourself.

Where's the Richard Blaney
I married?

Richard Blaney, EFC.
Do you remember the citation?

"For inspiring leadership, skill,
and tenacity of purpose."

You divorced him.
That's what happened to him.

Now, you tell me,
what sort of skill

do you need to deal with shopkeepers
and interfering bureaucrats?

Everyone's listening.

Well, let them.

I'll bet they've
never had to tear down

their own livelihood
with their own hands.

It's all right for you.

You just go and build it up
somewhere else.

You're like that.
You're good at business.

I'll bet they're all
good at business here.

I'll bet you're making a fortune
out of that agency.

And why not? If you
can't make love, sell it.

The respectable kind, of course.
The married kind!

Now look what you've done.

Oh, sir.
Let me help you.

Leave me alone!

I'm sorry.
I didn't mean that.

Come on. We'd better go.

Will you be all right?

You did say you hadn't enough money
to put on that horse.

Don't worry. You've done
enough for one day.

You had a coat too,
didn't you?

Yeah. That one there.

Mine's the pink one.

No, no, no.
That's not allowed.

Rules of the club.

Thank you.

It's all right, Richard.
I've got it. Here. Thank you.

So, this is it, huh?

Can I come in?

I'd like to see
where you live.

Go along now.
Run along home. It's late.

You call this late?

It's late enough
for a working girl.

Come on, Brenda.
I won't be long, I promise.

All right, but only
for a few minutes, mind.

Okay, thanks.
I won't need you.

It just fell out of your pocket,
guvnor, onto the floor.

And I was just putting it back
when you were asleep.

It sort of jerked out,
like, on the floor.

I was putting 'em in a bit quiet,
like, so as not to waken you.

You keep your hands out of my pockets,
or I'll break your arms!

Honestly, there's
nothing I detest

more than someone
taking liberties

with a fine gentleman
like yourself.

Oh, it's you again,
Mr. Robinson.

Yes, I'm afraid so.

Well, I'm having
my lunch just now.

If you want
an appointment,

perhaps you'll be good enough
to see my secretary.

By the way,
how did you get in?

Oh, no problem, really.

Just a question
of using your head.

I waited in the courtyard
till I saw her go out to lunch.

It all seems
a bit elaborate.

Yeah, perhaps, but...

You're the one
I wanted to see.

I thought I'd already explained
to you that we cannot help you.

Oh, come on now.

I know that you can be
most helpful when you try.

Look, Mr. Robinson,
you want women of a specific type.

How shall I put it?

Certain peculiarities
appeal to you,

and you need women
to submit to them.

Here we have, I'm afraid,
a very normal clientele.

As I say,
we can do nothing for you.

And now if you'll kindly let me
get on with my lunch.

I don't think you're really trying
your best for me.

I mean, if you can fix up a lot
of idiots, then why not me? Hmm?

I've explained.
You're different.

How so?

I have my good points.

I like flowers and...

Fruit.

People like me.

I've got things to give.

I'm sorry.

I thought matrimonial agencies were supposed
to bring people together?

Not people like you.

Somehow I don't think
our clients would appreciate

your conception of
a loving relationship.

I get on with
all sorts of people.

Good. Then you don't need us.

You're not the only
matrimonial agency, you know.

Then go elsewhere.

Not that any reputable agency
would service you.

I've been elsewhere.

But...

This one, for me, is the best,

because...

I like you.

You're my type of woman.

Don't be ridiculous.

I'm serious.

I respect a woman like you,
and I know how to treat you as well.

You know, in my trade...

We have a saying.

We put it on the fruit.

"Don't squeeze the goods
till they're yours."

Now, that's me.

I would never do that.

You know that, don't you?

Excuse me. I've just remembered
a call I've got to make.

There's no need
to call the police.

What made you think
I was going to call the police?

Just intuition, I suppose.

Oh, English?

Yeah, of course it is.

That's a very frugal lunch
you've got there.

Frugal...

And mean.

Certainly not enough to support
a lady with your opulent figure.

Rather too opulent, I'm afraid,
these days, hence the frugality.

Why don't you come out and have
a slap-up lunch with me?

No, I really can't leave
the office just now.

I'd buy you
the best lunch in town.

No, I c...

All right.

It's a deal.

You mean it? You'll come
and have lunch with me?

Of course.

Just let me wash my hands.

I thought we were
going to lunch.

Yes, of course
we're going to lunch.

Afterwards.

Ah!

All right. I know what
you want, but not here.

Let's go back to my place.

But this is your place. You've got
nothing to worry about here.

No, my secretary may
come back any minute.

Really?

How long do you give her
to eat her frugal lunch?

Fifteen minutes.
She may be here any minute.

The outside door
is locked.

She's got her own key.

I don't believe you.

Do you know what happens to
wicked girls who tell wicked lies?

Oh.

Don't worry.

Don't worry.

You've got nothing
to worry about.

Leave me alone. Please!

Take the money out of my bag,
but please, leave me alone.

In my bag there's,
there's enough money there

to buy any woman you want.
It's yours.

Take it! Just take it!

I don't buy women.
It's you I want.

You're my type.

You are. Yes.

You are my type of woman.

Please, let me answer
the telephone.

If you don't, the caller will come
around here in person.

I told you, I locked the outer door.
We won't be disturbed.

Oh, God!

Leave me alone.

All right. All right,
I won't struggle.

But I like you to struggle.

A lot of women
like to struggle.

Please, don't
tear my dress.

I'll take it off
if you like.

Lovely.

Lovely.

Lovely.

"Thou shall not be afraid
for the terror by night..."

Lovely.

"Nor for the arrow
which flieth by day..."

Lovely.

"Nor for the pestilence
which walketh in darkness..."

Lovely!

"Nor for the destruction
that wasteth at noonday..."

Lovely.

"He shall give his
angels charge over thee

"to guard thee
in all thy ways."

Lovely!

Lovely!

Lovely!

Lovely!

Lovely.

You bitch!

Women!

They're all the same.

They are.

I'll show you.

My God! The tie!

Dear Jesus,
help me. Help me.

Hello?

Anyone there?

Brenda, it's Richard.

Hello.

Hello, Globe?

May I speak to
Barbara Milligan?

Is that you, Blaney?

Listen, you've got
a bloody nerve

ringin' up here
in my busiest time.

I don't know where she is.
She's probably in the other bar.

I most certainly will not
nip 'round and fetch her.

She's busy and so am I...

Hello, Dickie.
Is that you?

Get a move on.
It's not a lonely hearts club.

Here, guv.
Give us a pint.

Yeah?

I'm fine. How are you?

I'm okay.
Look, I need my things,

but I don't particularly
fancy meeting Forsythe.

Do you think
you could pack 'em up,

and put 'em in my bag
and meet me this afternoon?

Are you sure?

It'd be great if you could, but I don't
want to mess things up for you.

Don't worry. It's my half-day today, silly.
Where shall I meet you?

I'll be opposite the Leicester Square
Odeon, 4:00. Okay?

Okay, at 4:00.
I've gotta run now. Bye.

Don't start lending him money.
You'll never get it back.

Why don't you mind
your own business.

- He's no good for you, Babs.
- And you are?

Hey, guv!
Take a whiff of this!

How far from here was the place
you had lunch, Miss Barling?

About five
or 10 minutes.

Good afternoon, sir.

Good afternoon,
one and all.

This is Miss Barling, sir.

Sergeant Spearman,
would you do the honors?

Certainly, sir.

The murdered woman
is a Mrs. Brenda Blaney.

She ran this
business here, sir,

and was found by her secretary,
Miss Barling,

on her return from lunch
at approximately 2:00, sir.

Afternoon.

Afternoon, sir.

Has Miss Barling
any ideas?

She certainly has, sir.

She says she saw
the murdered woman's ex-husband

leaving the building
just as she came back, sir.

I saw him clear as day.
It was Blaney, all right.

He came out of the door downstairs
and walked down the alley.

The beast!

I'm sorry, Miss Barling.
I must press you.

Are you sure
it was Mr. Blaney?

Absolutely!
I'd know him anywhere.

You see, he came here yesterday afternoon,
and was perfectly horrid.

He'd been drinking and insisted
on seeing Mrs. Blaney.

And did he see her?

Yes. She'd never turn
anyone away, not even him.

What happened?

Oh, I don't know.

They started having a row
almost immediately,

and Mrs. Blaney came out
and said I might go.

Well, quite naturally I didn't want to
embarrass her, so I left.

As I did so,
I couldn't help overhearing

that Mr. Blaney was
becoming very violent,

both in his language
and his behavior.

Did he strike Mrs. Blaney?

Yes, I think so.

There was the sound of a blow.

I see.

Miss Barling, could you describe
Mr. Blaney for us?

What he looked like,
what he was wearing and so on.

Well, yes, I think I can.

He was a man in his 30s,
about an inch or so under 6' tall.

He had dark hair,
green eyes and a mustache.

I estimate his weight
at about 155 pounds.

He was wearing a rather
old-fashioned jacket

with leather patches on the shoulders
and at the elbows.

In my opinion, it was
quite unsuitable for London.

He was also
carrying a raincoat.

That's an extraordinarily
precise description, Miss Barling.

In my job I've learned to keep
a sharp eye on men, Inspector.

Excuse me.

I found this handbag
on the desk,

and there's no
sign of any money.

That doesn't make sense.

I cashed a check for £50 for her
at the bank only yesterday lunchtime.

It makes perfect sense to me. Where does
she keep her money in this bag?

Sometimes she zips it
in the pocket.

Have this face powder identified,
will you, Sergeant?

There might be some on the stolen money.
We might be lucky.

All right, sir.

What about fingerprints?

With all the clowns who come in here,
sir, there'll be dozens.

Coburg Hotel, Bayswater.

Hey, wait a moment.
How can you afford a hotel?

I'll tell you later.

Okay.

So, what you been
up to, Dick?

Well, last night...

I allowed myself
to be pampered

by the handmaidens
of a Salvation Army hostel.

I tell you, after mixing
with some of the types in there,

one's clothing
needs fumigation.

Smell that.

Phew!

You mean you slept there?

Yeah. Spasmodically.

What? With all the old men?

Yes, that's it.

We had a high old time.
The conversation was mature,

the Red Biddy flowed
down the odd throats,

and the good fellowship
of the open road prevailed.

Red Biddy.
What's that?

Blended red wine. Half vino,
half mentholated spirits.

But why, Dick?

Reasonable terms for
bachelors, that's why.

30 pence a night, in fact.

I don't understand.
I mean...

How can you afford
the Coburg?

Well, I managed
to get some money.

- Since last night?
- Yeah.

I collected an old debt.

Oh. That was lucky.

Yeah.

Okay.

Thank you.

Double room, please.

What are you up to?
Not here!

Would that be with two singles,
or the matrimonial-size bed?

The mat...
Double bed. Please.

Yes. I see.

322 should suit you.
The Cupid Room.

Really?

Yes. It's very cozy.

If you'll just
sign the register.

Yes, of course.

"Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Wilde."

Now, look here, Dick Blaney!

Oscar, if you don't mind.

Dick, will you stop playing games?
I can't possibly...

Excuse me. That'll be £10,
plus service charge of £2.

Perhaps you'd
care to settle now?

- There we are.
- Thank you.

Room, please?

322, Bertie.

Follow me, please.

You've got 322.
That's nice.

Yes. The Cupid Room,
I think she called it.

Love's little arrows
have struck

quite a few hearts in there,
sir, I can tell you.

Oh, yeah.

Can I get you anything
from the pharmacy, sir?

No, thank you.

- Ta.
- Thank you, sir.

- Hey!
- Sir?

Hang on. Can you send this
to the cleaners for me?

- Certainly, sir.
- And this.

Tell them that it's urgent.

And might as well take
the other half as well.

Tell them that
I want them sprayed.

Sprayed, sir? With what?

DDT, my good man.
What else?

Sir?

Death to the lurking
roach, porter.

Confusion to
the insidious louse.

Get 'em cleaned
and pressed, eh?

Yes, sir.

Oh, dear!

Hey, Glad,
take a look at this.

Oh! Oh, that poor woman.

It's the jacket, Glad, I'm talkin' about.
The jacket! See what it says?

"The police are
anxious to interview a man

"seen leaving
the matrimonial agency

"about the time
of the murder.

"When last seen
he was wearing a tweed jacket

"with leather patches
on the shoulders and elbows

"and carrying a raincoat."

That's a funny way
to patch a jacket.

It's meant to be
like that, Glad.

The party in 322
was wearin' it.

Do you mean...
Do you mean Mr. Oscar Wilde?

That's not his real name, silly.
Oscar Wilde, indeed!

He's the fellow
the police are looking for.

Don't you see?
He's the necktie murderer.

And we've got him upstairs
at this very minute!

Oh, dear!
I only hope that girl

isn't wearing a necktie
at this very moment.

I can't believe it!
Not in the Cupid Room!

You know, Glad, sometimes just thinkin'
about the lusts of men

makes me want to heave.

Hello. Will you give me
the police, please?

Hello, police?

I'm the porter of
the Coburg Hotel, Bayswater.

Could you come at once? I've got
this fellow you're looking for here.

You know,
the necktie murderer.

He came here with a girl.

Come away, Glad. You're not to do
anything suspicious.

Open up!

Open up! Police!

They must've gone
down the back stairs.

But I ask you,
in all conscience,

is it likely I would
murder a woman

I'd been married
to for 10 years?

If it was true,
it would be horrible.

And rape her, after 10 years
of marriage? Violently rape her?

I don't know. I'm always hearing
of kinky things.

Perhaps you was
jealous of her.

Of Brenda?
Oh, come off it.

I didn't know Brenda.
It's possible.

Maybe you just wanted
to get rid of her.

But I had got rid of her.

We were divorced, remember.
We had been for two years.

There was no question of alimony.
She earned far more than me.

You got that money from her, didn't you?
You never collected a debt.

Well, yes, I did.

But she gave it to me the night before
when we had dinner.

20 pounds.

Why lie about it, then?

I suppose I was ashamed
to admit it, that's all.

That makes sense,
I suppose.

But here, wait a mo.

If Brenda gave you
the money at dinner,

why'd you sleep
in the doss-house?

You could've
afforded a hotel.

I didn't realize
that I had it.

She slipped it into the pocket
of my raincoat.

Oh, go on, Dick.

Why don't you pull the other one?
It's got bells on it.

But it's true!

I suppose she didn't
want to embarrass me.

You've got to admit
it is pretty tall.

Well, it's not as tall
as me sleeping

in a doss-house with
20 quid in my pocket!

If I knew I had it,
I'd never have gone there, would I?

Maybe.

Maybe!
You smelled that jacket!

Would you sleep there
if you didn't have to?

It wasn't that bad,
that jacket.

I still think
it's a bit suspicious,

your sending it
to the cleaners.

Suspicious of what?

In them sex cases, they always
do a lab test on the clothes.

It stank to high heaven!

That's why.
You know it did.

Barbara, I swear
I'm telling the truth.

Now, do I look like
a sex murderer to you?

Can you imagine me
creeping around London,

strangling all
those women with ties?

That's ridiculous.

For a start,
I only own two.

Well, it's true. That jacket was
a bit smelly and...

I suppose if you had
known about the money,

you wouldn't have stayed
with a lot of old men like that.

Then you believe me?

Thousands wouldn't.

Thanks.

I must be soft in the head
lettin' a suspected strangler

put his arms around me.

Shows you trust me.

I suppose so.

Hey, what we gonna do?
The police will be looking for you!

I don't know.
I haven't thought yet.

Well, there's only
one thing you can do.

Go and see 'em. Tell them
what happened, like you told me.

No, I can't do that.

You've got to!

They'd never believe me.

Why not? I did.

You're not the law.
I'm probably their only suspect.

You just have to go along and persuade
them to search for someone else.

I mean, one look at you and they'd know
you wasn't a sadistic killer.

Blaney!

Come on!

Dicko!

Haven't done any of this cloak-and-dagger
stuff since the Suez business.

That's when I first met Dicko,
in the squadron, you know.

He was a bit of
a split-assed type then too.

Hetty, you remember Dicko,
don't you?

Of course. Come in.

And...
This is Miss Milligan.

Hello, Miss Milligan.

Pleased to meet you.

I bumped into them
in the park.

How fortunate!

We haven't seen you
in ages, Dick.

How's Brenda?
Do you still hear from her?

Well, she's dead,
I'm afraid.

Yes.

And you killed her!

Steady on, Hetty.
He didn't do it.

He's just been
telling me all about it.

Has he, now?

You see, he was seen near the place
where Brenda was murdered.

So the police think he's the strangler chap.
But he's not, of course.

All he wants is
a place to hide out.

And you suggested
he should stay here.

Well, yes.
It seemed a good idea.

Nobody ever knows
who's staying here.

You're a bloody fool, Johnny,
getting yourself involved like this.

But he didn't do it.

Of course he did it!

What, old Dicko?

Yes, old Dicko, the chivalrous
knight of the skies!

He always treated her
like a shit!

Really, Hetty, I think you're
absolutely wrong.

Don't you remember that
disgusting divorce petition?

The things you did to her!

Divorce petition?

Oh, didn't he tell you?

Did he forget to mention
he was divorced from his wife

on the grounds of
extreme cruelty?

Thank you very much.

Well, is it true?

Yes!

Both extreme mental
and physical cruelty.

Depravity was
mentioned, I think.

It had to read that way, but there wasn't
a word of truth in it!

The lawyers made
the whole thing up.

You see neither of us
wanted to wait three years

until I could get a divorce
on the grounds of desertion,

so I allowed her to divorce me
on the grounds of cruelty.

Extreme cruelty.

I wonder if the police
have read a copy of it.

My God!

Yes, I'm sure
they'll be fascinated.

He's innocent, Mrs. Porter,
I know he is.

You know it?
How do you know it?

Well, as you say,
they'd been divorced.

There was no call
for him to do her in.

There's no spiteful act
I'd put past old Dicko here,

especially
if he were drunk.

Were you drunk when you did it?
Was that it?

I didn't do it, Hetty.

I didn't do it! I swear!

Then why don't you
go to the police

and explain to them
instead of involving Johnny?

I didn't want to involve him.
He insisted.

That's right, I did.
Can't abandon a chap in trouble.

I still say, why don't you go to
the police and inform them?

They'd never believe him,
that's why.

He's the only suspect
they've got, poor lamb,

and with all
the evidence against him,

they'd lock him up without so much as
a by-your-leave.

Oh, please hide him,
Mrs. Porter, just for tonight,

until we can think
what's best to do.

Of course we'll hide him.
Can't throw an old comrade to the cops.

Well, if you want to be arrested
for harboring a wanted man

or subverting the course
of justice or whatever,

on your own
head be it, Johnny.

But I wash my hands
of the matter.

Thank God we're off to Paris
tomorrow morning.

That's all I can say.

That is, if we're not all in jail!
I'm going shopping.

Perhaps I'd better go.

Nonsense, old chap.

Don't worry about Hetty. I'll calm her down.
You can use the sofa tonight.

I must be off.
I'm ever so late already.

What do you do,
Miss Milligan?

I work in a pub.

Same place he used to be.

Really?

Why don't both of you
slip out of the country

till this whole
thing's blown over?

Come and give me
a hand at the Bulldog.

Bulldog?

It's an English pub I've opened in Paris.
They're the new thing there.

That's a great idea.
Why don't we?

Not likely. I never was
any good at French.

Well, you don't have to be.
It's an English pub.

As long as you can say non,
you'll be all right.

Well...

Come on, Babs.

You don't like the Globe
any more than I did.

Look, meet me
at Victoria Station

tomorrow morning, 11:00,
by the flower stall.

We can shoot down to the coast
and get a day trip to France.

You don't need a passport.

Okay.

Splendid!

Froggies will
roll over and die

at the sight of
a real English barmaid.

I must go now, really.
You know Forsythe.

Mum's the word, eh?
Don't tell a soul I'm here.

Cross me heart
and hope to die.

Thanks for
lookin' after him.

Not at all, my dear.

I'll come see you
to the lift.

Enjoying that,
are you, sir?

Sergeant, my wife is currently
taking a course

at the Continental School
of Gourmet Cooking.

Apparently they've never
heard of the principle,

"To eat well in this country,
one must have breakfast three times a day."

And an English
breakfast at that.

I don't mean
your café complet.

Beg pardon, sir?

It's a cup of coffee
half an inch deep

in floating bits of boiled milk,
and a sweet bun full of air.

That's what I had
this morning.

I see what you mean, sir.

I'm a...
A Quaker Oats man, myself.

Excuse me, sir.

This has just come in.

It's the lab report
on the £10 note

that Blaney used to pay
the hotel bill with.

Yes.

Well, as you'll see, the note bore
traces of face powder

identical to that which we found
in Mrs. Blaney's handbag.

Thank you.

Thank you, sir.

Well, Sergeant,
we were in luck after all.

Yes, sir. That just about
does it for him, I'd say.

Looks very much like it.

I've never run into any of
these jokers before, sir.

What are they like?

Oh, they vary,
but not a lot.

The important thing
to remember is

they hate women,
and are mostly impotent.

Impotent?

Don't mistake rape
for potency, Sergeant.

In the latter stage
of the disease,

it's the strangling, not the sex,
that brings them on.

Above all, of course,
they're sadists.

You know what they are,
Sergeant, I'm sure.

Oh, yes, sir.

And if you don't, you can read all
about it in there,

Mrs. Blaney's
divorce petition.

It tells you a great deal about
the habits of our hero.

Yeah?

Right. Put him on.

Yes, Chief Inspector
Oxford speaking.

My name is Forsythe, Inspector.
Felix Forsythe.

I run the Globe Public House,
Covent Garden.

Now, I see from the newspaper you're
in charge of these strangling cases.

Yes, Mr. Forsythe,
that is so.

Good, because I've got
some information to impart.

Now, this man
you're looking for,

the one with the patches
on his suit.

I know him.
He worked here as a barman.

His name is Richard Blaney.
He's a right bastard.

Are you quite certain
it's the same man?

Gone off with your barmaid?
What exactly do you mean by "gone off"?

Well, she's been out all night
with him and hasn't yet returned.

And I felt it
my duty to tell you

that I consider her
to be in great danger.

That is, of course, if she's
still alive and kicking.

Well, thank you for your information,
Mr. Forsythe.

Tell me, what does this
barmaid of yours look like?

Well, then, I can set your mind
at rest on one point at least.

She was alive and running
at 8:00 this morning.

8:00 this morning?

Well, where is she now?
We opened at 11:00!

What I want to know is,
is she coming back here or not?

She's left
all her clothes here.

I expect she'll turn up
sooner or later.

These days,
ladies abandon their honor

far more readily
than their clothes.

Thank you for your information,
Mr. Forsythe.

I'll send someone over.

That was Forsythe,

manager of the Globe Public House,
Covent Garden.

Well, I tell you what, Jim, I'm glad
I'm not in the potato business.

Got enough troubles
of me own.

Yeah, you're not
a bad judge, Bob.

The potato business
is poison, always was.

It costs a fortune
to dig 'em up,

another fortune
to transport them.

And what do you have at the end?
Hardly any money for them.

Mostly you can't sell them.

I've got to send a truckload back up
to Lincolnshire tonight.

And what will they
do with them?

They'll plow them back in.

Can you beat it?

And they say there's people
hungry in this world.

True, Jim.

And there are
a few thirsty as well.

Come on, have one
with your Uncle Bob.

Good afternoon!

Just a minute. Where do you
think you've been?

Your half-day was yesterday afternoon,
not this morning.

You took a hell of
a chance, didn't you,

spending the night
with a murderer?

How do you know I spent the night
with anyone?

Now come off it.

You took his clothes to him. You didn't
come home. It stands to reason.

Why don't you mind
your own bleeding business?

Don't talk to me
like that, girl.

I was worried about you.
I thought you might be next.

I even phoned the police.

- Police?
- Yeah. They wanna talk to you.

They're sending a fella over
from Scotland Yard.

Why?

Why? Because they want
your lover. That's why.

They wanna
pick him up and put him

where he can't strangle
any more women!

And you'd better help 'em.

The sooner that madman's
behind bars the better.

Don't you talk
about him like that!

You don't realize
how lucky you are to be alive!

Christ Almighty, Babs,

if I wasn't shorthanded, I'd take you
down to Scotland Yard myself!

As it is, right after
closing time...

I won't be here!

And you can stuff your rotten job
right up your jacksy!

Come back, you!

Oh, balls!

Got a place to stay?

Oh, it's you, Bob.

Yeah.

I heard that ding-dong
you had with Forsythe.

Oh, he's a right bastard.

Well, of course he is.

You can stay
at my place

till you get something
sorted out, if you want.

I won't be in your way.
I'm going up north for a few days.

No strings?

Now, do I look like
that sort of a bloke?

All blokes are
that sort of a bloke.

Are you really
goin' away?

Sure! Tonight.

You can have the place to yourself.
I'll take you there now.

And if you like,
I'll go back to the Globe

and pick up
your stuff for you.

Now, I can't say
fairer than that, can I?

Oh, thanks, Bob.

I'll just stay the one night
if you don't mind.

Suit yourself.

Tomorrow I'm gonna go to...

I'm going to
my sister in Southall.

Leaving your boyfriend
in the lurch a bit, aren't you?

He has to make up
his own mind what to do.

Well, you know, I'd like to help him
if I could. Where's he hiding out?

- I can't tell you, Bob. I promised.
- Oh.

Come on, Babs.

Dick and me have always been mates.
You know that.

I can't.

All right.
Keep your little secret.

You know, changing jobs can be
a blessing in disguise.

It gets you
out of a rut.

A girl like you ought to travel,
see the world a bit.

The Cape, California, Jaffa.
Where the fruit comes from,

that's where I'd like to go
if I wasn't tied down here.

But you, you can do
as you please!

You've got the whole
of your life ahead of you.

Here we are.
I'm on the second floor.

I don't know
if you know it, Babs,

but you're
my type of woman.

Is that you, Tim?

Hello, dear.

Hungry?

- Yes.
- Good.

I'll bring it right in.

It's a soupe de poisson, dear.

I know you'll enjoy it.

Say, I have
no doubt of it.

Don't wait for me. I'm just going to
see to the next course.

Well...

What's new in the case?
Any sensational breaks?

No. I'll be glad when we get
Mr. Richard Blaney inside, though.

Any idea where he is?

No, our only lead to him
left her job this morning.

What's more, I don't know
where she is either.

You're certain
he's the one?

Oh, yes,
he's the one, all right.

There's not even the complication
of another suspect.

It has to be him.

We have him identified as leaving
the matrimonial agency

at the time his ex was killed.

We have the clothes
which he found necessary

to send to the cleaners
in a hurry.

And we have the evidence of the face powder
in the Salvation Army hostel.

I don't follow you,
my dear.

I didn't think the Salvation Army
girls used makeup.

No, Blaney slept in a Salvation Army
hostel the night before last.

Did he, dear?

Yes.

He was incautious enough
to tell them his name.

I don't think an ex-RAF officer
would sleep in such a place

unless he was broke, do you?

No, I don't.

So, let's assume he was.

Last night, however,
he slept in the...

Coburg Hotel in Bayswater

and paid for his extremely expensive
room with a £10 note.

The note bore traces
of the same face powder

we found in
Mrs. Blaney's handbag.

I mean, the murderer
not only strangled Mrs. Blaney,

he stole money from
her handbag as well.

Ergo...

Blaney is the thief
and also the murderer.

That ties it up then.

Well, I think so.

And furthermore,
there is a waitress

at Mrs. Blaney's club
who can also testify

to Blaney's
aggressive behavior

towards his wife
the previous night.

He doesn't seem to have been
very discreet, does he?

No. Discretion is
not traditionally

the strong suit of
the psychopath, dear.

Believe me, that's
what we're dealing with.

You ought to read his
wife's divorce petition.

What exactly is in this soup?

Why? Don't you like it?

Mmm.

It's delicious.

But I find the...

Ingredients are
somewhat mystifying.

They're smelts, ling,

conger eel, John Dory,

pilchards and frogfish.

And now, since that must've been
fairly satisfying,

I thought a simple roast bird
would be enough.

Caille aux raisins.

Hmm?

Quail with...

Grapes.

I must say,
I'm very worried.

- About Mr. Blaney?
- Yes.

He's gone off with a barmaid
he used to work with.

I think she's in
very great danger.

You're wrong, Tim.
Absolutely wrong.

It can't be this fellow.

How long did you say
he was married?

Ten years.

Well, there you are.

A crime de passion
after all that time?

Look at us. We've only been
married eight years,

and you can hardly
keep your eyes open at night.

Well, that as may be.

But I don't knock you about
or make you do degrading things.

No, the evidence
speaks for itself.

Besides, you can't make normal judgments
about psychopathic killers.

They can be triggered off
at any time.

We've got to find him
before his...

Appetite is whetted again.

Christ all-bloody-mighty!

See you, mate.

You bitch!
Where's that bloody pin?

Hey, you're
spilling your load!

What?

The potatoes.
They're falling on the road.

Argh!

Hey, do you see
what I see?

Here, what's wrong...

Who is it?

Perhaps
you can tell us.

- Wake up!
- What?

Get out of here.

What is it?

Brenda wasn't
enough for you.

You had to kill
another girl too!

- What girl?
- You know, all right.

That girl you
brought here yesterday.

Babs?

As if you didn't know.

You strangled her
like all the others!

She's been strangled?

Don't you play act with me.
Get up and get out of here.

I'd call the police
myself if I knew

how to do it
without getting involved.

I don't believe it.
I just don't believe it.

It's true, Dicko.
It just came over on the radio.

They found her in a potato truck
in Lincolnshire.

The fellow at the pub
where you worked identified her.

He knows where they found her.
He put her there!

What are you talking about?
I haven't left this room all night.

Liar.
I don't believe you.

Hetty, it doesn't matter
whether you believe him or not,

because it said on the radio
that Miss Milligan

had been dead for
at least 12 hours

when they found her
at 3:00 this morning.

Now, that means that
she must've been killed

before 3:00
yesterday afternoon.

And Dick was here with us
from the time she left

to the time
we went to bed.

So he couldn't have
done it.

Poor kid.

I still
don't believe it.

They're only guessing
when she was killed.

We didn't go to
bed till 11:00,

and Dick was
here with us then.

They can't be
eight hours adrift.

Hey, Dicko?

Don't you see what this means?
You're in the clear! We can give you an alibi.

Yes. Yes,
I suppose you can.

But there's no supposing.

Yeah, and we'll simply tell the police
you were here with us.

Would you do that? Would you
do it now before you go away?

Of course, old boy.
Delighted.

You'll do no such thing!

What?

Not unless you want to go to jail
for harboring a wanted man.

But he's
not a criminal.

Well, the police
think he is!

And they have a lot of
evidence against him.

Yes, but we know
he didn't kill Miss Milligan.

We've got to tell them
he was here with us.

But we don't know
he didn't kill Miss Milligan!

For all we know
the time given out

on the radio
might've been a trap.

But what is certain,
if you go to the police,

they will probably charge you
with being an accessory after the fact.

And they certainly
won't allow us to go abroad,

and they will
probably put us in jail.

Well, Hetty's right,
damn it.

I mean, you can see that,
Dicko, can't you?

You mean you won't come
to the police with me?

Well, I don't see how I can.
I mean, you heard Hetty.

But you're my only alibi!

Well, I'm sorry, old chap.

You see, I've got to
get to Paris today.

I can't afford
to be kept here.

But you can afford to stand by
and see me go to jail for life!

Is that it?

Well, it's not as bad
as all that, old chap.

They'll find this strangler chappie
pretty soon and they'll...

Of all the cowardly shits!

It's "I'm all right, Jack,
and haul up the ladder," isn't it?

You pair of bastards!

Well, if that's how you feel
after all we've done for you,

I think you better had go!

I'll call the manager.

And involve yourself?

Don't worry, I'm going.

I'm a little choosy with whom
I spend my last hours of freedom.

Look, Dick,
I'm sorry about all this.

I'd suggest that you came to Paris
and worked in the pub,

but they're watching
all the ports and stations.

It said so on the news.

Well, that lets you
out then, doesn't it?

Your responsibility
for me ends here.

Clear this area,
please. Thank you, madam.

Stand back, please.

Looks as though we've got half
the law in London

in the market this morning.

Yeah. It makes it very difficult
to give short weight.

I suppose they're
trying to find out

if anybody saw Blaney put in poor,
old Babs on that potato truck.

You think he did it, do you?

It stands to reason,
doesn't it?

Why? Don't you?

I'm not as eager as some
to turn on my old mates.

What are you talkin' about?
Blaney wasn't a mate of mine.

I suppose you know
I had to sack him for stealin'.

Get off.

Yeah, Blaney was a thief,
right bastard.

I even told that
Chief Inspector,

but he didn't
believe a word, did he?

Well, I expect he's laughing
on the other side of his face now.

You reckon?

Yeah, definitely,
definitely.

He wasn't so cocky when I saw him
at 7:00 this morning.

I've just been down
to Scotland Yard to identify her.

From photos, you know.
They took 'em, and they...

Rushed 'em down special.

She wasn't a pretty sight,
I can tell you.

Some people have
all the luck.

Yeah. I better get
a move on, I suppose.

Business will be
pretty brisk today.

You know how morbid
some people are.

Absolutely! Jumping up to identify
dead girls at all hours of the morning.

See you later.

My God, Dick!

Whatcha doin' here?

Look, I'm sorry, Bob,
but I had nowhere else to go.

The people I was staying with left
for Paris this morning.

I wouldn't have
come now,

except that you did say
if I needed anything, anytime...

Yes, yes, of course!

But you took a hell of a chance
coming here this morning.

The whole place is teeming with coppers.
Wait a minute.

Well, you'd better hole up
in my place for a day or two

till we get
something sorted.

Yes. I thought maybe
if you had the room.

I know it's
a hell of an imposition

getting you involved
and everything, but...

Well, you've got
to believe me.

I haven't murdered anyone!

This whole business is insane!
I mean, you know me.

I wouldn't get involved
in anything like this.

Of course
you wouldn't, Dick. No.

The police, as usual, have got
the whole thing arse about face.

I mean, these sort of killings
always boggle the mind.

That man must be
a sexual maniac.

Mind you, there are some women
who ask for everything they get.

But you? Don't make me laugh.
You're not the type.

Now, don't worry.

You've done the right thing
coming to your Uncle Bob.

Right. Well, let's get
over to my place now.

You know where
it is, don't you?

- Yeah.
- Great.

I'll go first,
and I'll take the bag.

- You'll be less conspicuous that way.
- Okay.

You follow,
but take the long way around.

Go down to the Strand,
you know.

And then work your way up
Southampton Street.

- Okay?
- Yeah.

Well done, boy! Come in.

Make yourself comfortable.

Very cozy.

Yes, well,
it's my little nest.

You know, my home.

Home is the place where when you have
to go there, they have to take you in.

That's what my ol' mum used to say.
You met my mum, didn't you?

Yes.

Great old lady.

I better get back to the shop.
See you later, eh?

Yeah, sure.

There's something to eat in the kitchen.
The booze is here.

So get on with it, right?

Bob, I'm really grateful for all this.
You know that.

I told you,
think nothing of it.

Hey, do me a favor,
will you?

Keep away
from the windows.

Yes, of course. Sorry.

Ta-ta.

And don't do anything
I wouldn't do.

Are you
Richard Ian Blaney?

Yes. What is this?

You're under arrest.
Come quietly, and you won't get hurt.

Is this necessary?

We take no chances
with bastards like you.

- He's clean, sir.
- Is this your bag?

- Come on, you.
- Yes.

Thank you, Mr. Rusk.
You've been very helpful.

Anything to oblige, Sarge.

No reward, I'm afraid.
Better luck next time, eh?

Well, you know what they say, Sarge,
"Virtue is its own reward."

Well, if you want any more help,
I'll be in my shop.

All right.
We know where you are.

How's that kid of yours
gettin' on with the violin?

Richard Ian Blaney?

Yes.

As the result of my inquiries,
you'll be detained in connection

with the willful murders
of Brenda Margaret Blaney,

Barbara Jane Milligan
and others.

You're not obliged to say
anything unless you wish.

But anything you do say will be
taken down in writing

and may be used
in evidence.

Mr. Oxford, could you
spare a second over here?

Rusk. It's Rusk!

Hold him back.
Where was this found?

Over at Henrietta Street
where we picked him up, sir.

Any identification?

"Miss Barbara Milligan, Globe Public House.
Covent Garden, London, WC2."

Are you agreed
upon your verdict?

We are.

Do you find the prisoner,
Richard Ian Blaney,

guilty or not guilty of
the murder of Brenda...

...Ian Blaney,

you have been found guilty
of a terrible crime.

On its ghastly and wicked nature
I will not dwell.

I only tell you that you must
entertain no expectation or hope

that you will escape
the consequences of it.

The sentence of
this court is that

you serve a term
of life imprisonment

for not less
than 25 years...

Rusk did it!
I told you all along!

Rusk!

I keep telling you.
Rusk, where are you?

One of these days,
you bastard! Rusk...

Where are you? Rusk?

One of these days, I'm gonna get out
and kill you, you bastard!

I've got nothing to lose now!

I might as well do what
I'm being locked away for!

You remember that!
You remember that!

Rusk did it.

Rusk did it!
I told you all along!

Rusk? Rusk, where are you?

One of these days, I'm gonna get out
and kill you, you bastard!

I've got nothing to lose now!

I might as well do
what I'm being put away for.

You remember that!
You remember that!

- Do you see the sign, Hartletts?
- Yes, sir.

Well, it's the
fair-haired chap

in the brown suit
standing right underneath it.

- Did you see him?
- Yes, I did.

Right. We'll go around
once again,

and I want a good,
close mug shot.

Yes, Inspector,
I remember him well.

He came here on two
or three occasions.

Every business has its own
special cross to bear, I suppose.

And yours is
men like this?

That is so.

Most of them are
easy enough to get rid of, but...

Mr. Robinson here was
particularly insistent.

He simply wouldn't
take no for an answer.

Mr. Robinson?

Yes, that is the man's name.

Here we are.

Mr. William Robinson.

You see, Inspector,

he wanted us to find women
for him who enjoyed...

Well, certain peculiarities.

You mean, who were sexual masochists?
Who enjoyed being hurt?

That sort of thing?

Quite.

Perhaps you'd better
see it for yourself.

Naturally we told him
we couldn't oblige,

but as I say,
he kept coming back.

Is it likely, do you think,

that if Mr. Robinson couldn't get
what he wanted from your agency,

he would go to others?

Oh, yes, very likely.

Men like this leave
no stone unturned

in their search for their
disgusting gratifications.

Excuse me, Inspector.

Do you have any special reason
for seeing Mr. Robinson?

Yes, Miss Barling, we do.

And I'd like you to
keep my visit confidential.

Of course.

Get the doctor quick.

It looks like
an ambulance job.

I told you it wasn't
Blaney, didn't I?

I told you you were
on the wrong track.

A woman's intuition is worth more than
all those laboratories.

I can't think why you don't
teach it in police colleges.

So you think it's Rusk, do you?
You think he's our man?

Well, of course.
Anyone can see that.

He knew both Mrs. Blaney and that Barbara
what's-her-name, didn't he?

Yes.

Well, there you are.

You told me the man's
a sexual pervert.

That's why he kept the clothes
and put them in poor Mr. Blaney's case.

We have no
proof of that.

It stands to reason.

Don't you mean intuition?

What does your intuition tell you
I want for dinner tonight?

Steak and a baked potato.

But you're getting
pied de porc à la mode de Caens.

It looks like
a pig's foot!

That's what it is.

I put it in the same sauce
the French use for tripe.

That's comforting.

Well...

When are you going to arrest
this Mr. Robinson, or Rusk,

or whatever he's called?

When I have
the proof I need.

It takes a little longer to acquire
than intuitive insights.

How much longer?
When will you have it?

In a few minutes
I hope, dear.

Really?

You old slyboots. Tell.

Well...

We know that if
Rusk is the murderer,

he traveled up in the potato truck
with his victim.

How do we know that?

Did you ever hear of a corpse
that cut itself out of a tied sack?

What would he want to take
the corpse out of the sack for?

Well, obviously,
he was looking for something.

How do we know that?

Well, the corpse was
deep in rigor mortis.

He had to break the fingers of
the right hand to retrieve what they held.

You know, it would be so nice to get back
to plain bread in this house.

What do you think they held?

A locket? A broach? A cross!

It had to be something
that would incriminate him.

Something that he missed when he put
the body on the truck.

A monogrammed
handkerchief, perhaps.

Not a cross, I think.

Well...

I don't see why not.

Religious and sexual mania
are closely linked.

Anyway, whatever it was,
he found it,

which was unlucky for us.

But we did have one
piece of good fortune.

The truck driver told us that he stopped
at one place on his journey,

and that was at a pull-in
somewhere out of London.

- A pull-in?
- Mmm.

It's a cafe frequented
by truck drivers, dear.

They serve humble foods
like bacon and egg sandwiches,

sausages and mashed potatoes
and cups of tea and coffee.

How is it so fortunate
that this driver stopped there?

Well, it's not so much
that he stopped,

but that he stopped
only once that is important.

The only place our man
could've escaped

from that truck
was at that cafe.

I sent Sergeant Spearman
out there earlier today

to see if he could find anyone
who could remember Rusk being there.

I'm expecting him
back at any minute.

Well, eat up, dear. You'll want to be
finished by the time he arrives.

Tasty, very tasty.

Not a lot of
meat on it, mind.

No sense in gorging, dear.

I'll take mine
and eat it

while I'm beating my
egg whites for the soufflé.

- Good evening, Sergeant.
- Good evening, sir.

I hope I'm not interrupting
your dinner.

No, not at all.
Come in.

Thank you, sir.

Put your hat and
coat on the sofa.

Good evening, Sergeant Spearman.
What would you like to drink?

Good evening, madam.
Well, I don't know that I...

Oh, that's all right, Spearman.
You're off duty, now.

How about a margarita?

It's delicious.

Tequila, triple sec,

fresh lemon juice and salt pressed
'round the rim of the glass.

You'll love it.

Thank you, madam.

Sergeant Spearman,
you are positively

glutinous with
self-approbation.

You might as well speak out.

Yes, sir.

The woman behind
the counter at the cafe

positively identified Rusk
from the photo I showed her

as being a man who
called at the café

the night the body
was discovered.

And that's not all.

What are you waiting for, Sergeant?
A roll of drums?

No, sir. Sorry, sir.

The woman also said that Rusk was
disheveled and very dusty

and asked to borrow
a clothes brush.

This is the brush
she lent him, sir.

You see there?

What do you say, Spearman?
Potato dust?

Here you are, Sergeant.

Cheers.

Cheers, madam.

Did you hear all that?

Yes, I told you.
I knew all the time.

Quite.

Get this down to the lab
as soon as possible, will you?

Very good, sir.

It rather looks like we put
the wrong man away this time.

What do you mean "we"?
You put him away.

All right, Spearman,
you can get along now.

Good night, madam.

You haven't
finished your drink.

I'm sorry, madam. I have to get down
to the lab in a hurry.

Good night, Spearman.
Good work. Very good work.

Thank you, sir.

Poor Mr. Blaney.

You've got to get him out,
Tim, immediately.

He's in hospital
at the moment.

But I'll talk to the assistant commissioner
in the morning

and get the case
reopened.

He won't like it, but there's
quite enough evidence for a pardon.

Will they give him
any compensation?

I expect they'll
give him some money,

but there's no real way
to compensate in cases like these.

Poor man.

I think the least you can do is ask him
'round for a really good dinner.

Let's see.

It will obviously have
to be something substantial.

I think
a Caneton aux cerises.

What's that?

Duckling...

With heavy sweet cherry sauce.

Well, after that jail food
he's been having,

I expect
he'll eat anything.

Excuse me.

I must see if my soufflé's
started to rise.

Hey!

Are the pills working?

He's sleeping like a baby.

Do you think
we gave him enough?

Christ, mate,
he's had half a dozen.

Good. Now I'm off to
get that bastard, Rusk!

All right, all right.
Let's make sure.

It's now or never!
I'm due back inside tomorrow.

George? George!

All right, George.

Right, son, better be going.
Mind you, do him up good.

Here, take this
strip of mica.

You may need it to open his door.
It might be locked.

Doctor? Sister?

Get a trolley, nurse.

Well, Sister,
there seems to be

no evidence of
a cerebral accident.

We'll have to admit him for observation
and then sort it out.

Could he be an epileptic
or a diabetic?

Not very likely
in his sort of job.

We're certainly going
to need blood samples.

Sleeping pills! They've given him
all their sleeping pills.

- Good night.
- Good night, sir.

Hello?

Good God! When was this?

Right. What's that?

Yes. Five minutes.
I'll wait outside.

I'm off! Blaney's escaped,
and I bet I know where he's gone.

I often wondered whether Blaney threw
himself down those stairs

in a suicide attempt or just as
a means to get into the hospital.

And now, of course,
we have our answer.

No. No! It's not...

Mr. Rusk.

You're not
wearing your tie.

I...