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The earliest
documented instance

of an animal speaking
like a human

was in the 5th century BC,

by the Greek physician Ctesias,
who wrote,

"In my travels to India,

I encountered a parrot
about as large as a hawk,

with a human tongue and voice,
a dark red beak, a black beard,

and blue feathers up to a neck,
which is red like cinnabar.

It speaks Indian like a native

and if taught Greek,
speaks Greek."

In 1962, a budgerigar
named Sparkie Williams

held the world record
for the largest vocabulary

of a talking bird.

Stupid bastard.

At the time of his death,

he knew 531 words.

Stupid bastard. Silly bugger.
Stupid bastard.

Like I told you,

he is a very, very,
very good boy.

That's not important right now.

In 1995,
a budgerigar named Park

was credited by Guinness's
Book of World Records

as having the largest
vocabulary of any bird.

Never shake a baby bird,
that would surely be absurd.

Konnichiwa!

While the budgerigar

can be taught the most words,

it is believed by many
that the hill myna

sounds most similar
to a human when it speaks.

Hello, how are you?

Hello, how are you?

Crows are considered

some of the most intelligent
animals on Earth.

Come on.

And they can learn,
in some cases,

to mimic human speech
and laughter.

What a good boy.

And while most often

when one thinks of an animal

speaking like a human...

one thinks of a bird.

Some other animals
can produce sounds

that are remarkably
like the ones we make.

These are very
isolated occurrences, however.

The result of coincidence

rather than anything
supernatural.

You are considered to be
the world's foremost expert

in parapsychology.

A field of research I will admit

I was unfamiliar with
until quite recently.

Well, most are.

Hm.

There is something
I have been dying to ask,

no pun intended,

since we arranged
this interview.

I hope my, uh, nomenclature
is not too crude.

Well, what is it?

Well, do you believe in ghosts?

Well, the answer
to that question

is actually quite complicated.

How so?

Do you believe
that ghosts are real?

Well, now that is an entirely
different question

with an even more
complicated answer.

I'm afraid I'm a bit lost.

Aren't we all?

Allow me to respond
to your inquiry

with a question for you.

And that is, how do you define
that term, "real"?

Well, it is, I suppose,
what I can see, what I can feel.

Hear, smell.
What is obviously around me.

Precisely.
What you can see,

what you can feel,

what is around you.

Right.
Now, allow me

to elucidate further
with a short exercise.

All right.
Suppose when I look

into the corner of the room,

I see a man standing there
looking back at me.

But there's no one there.

So you say.

But what if I could see someone?

Can you?

For the purpose
of this demonstration,

yes, I see, as I said, a man.

He is old with a heavy beard.

Blue eyes.

He is making faces at me now.

He is waggling his tongue.

Right, but, uh, but there is
no one there.

Do you see anyone there?

What? So you cannot see him,
neither can he.

And yet I can.

So is he real or not?

Well, no.

But I say he is.

But he is not.

But I...

say he is.

That you two cannot see anyone
is irrelevant

as far as I am concerned.

You could bring
a thousand people in here

and ask them all
if they see someone

and they could all say no,
and yet I can.

So to me, he is real.

I think I understand now.

Good. However...

Oh, God, what now?

My field of research with
regard to this scenario

I have concocted
has little to do with the fact

that you two cannot see
anyone in the corner.

In fact, it does not
really matter that I can.

What I am concerned with...

What I am obsessed
with understanding is,

why I can see that man?

Do you understand?

Not at all.

Anne, hello.

How was it?

A drink, please.

I see.

Would you prefer
the Burns or the Calvert?

The Calvert to start.

Now after the day
you've had,

probably in no mood to have me
read your letters to you.

Well... you might as well.

Otherwise, they'll just...

continue to accumulate.

Yes.

Right.

"Dear Dr. Fodor,

I do hope this letter
finds you well.

My name is—"

S-Sorry, Anne.

If you could skip
the pleasantries,

I'm not in the mood.

Certainly. Yeah.

"I live in the town
of Dundee, Scotland

with my son Oliver.

When we moved
into the cottage on—"

All right.

Here is what we will do.

You will read the letter
to yourself,

then you will take a moment.

And then you will summarize it
for me.

Ye... yes, sir.

How short would you prefer
this summary to be?

Four sentences or less.

How does that sound?
Four. Yes.

Oh.

Right, I think I've got it.

Oh, does that count as one
of my four sentences?

No.
Excellent.

A young Scottish boy.
He sees his dead grandmother.

Mother doesn't believe.

Mother finds dead grandmother's
necklace on her pillow...

One, two, three.

and the boy suffers at school

because of his visions.

Next.

Right.

Library in Calcutta.

Ghost of the former caretaker
said to haunt the history wing.

Books strewn around.

Photograph of phantasm enclosed.

See? It's there.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Next.

Oh, golly. Right.

Isle of Man.
Family living in a farmhouse.

Claim a talking mongoose
lives in their barn.

Creature's name is Gef.

A talking mongoose.

Yes.

The creature,
whose name is Gef,

resembles a mongoose
or some other member of—

May I?

Thank you.

"Dear Dr. Fodor, greetings.

I hope this letter finds you...
The Isle of Man.

Let me begin by saying that
the earliest documented instance

of an animal
speaking like a human

was in the 5th century BC

by the Greek philosopher
Ctesias—"

This is from Dr. Harry Price.

Yes, I-I believe he-he-he
visited the Irving family

and investigated
the creature.

Gef.

"And while he did not see it,
he heard it.

And the Irvings, and many
of the other townspeople

are utterly convinced
that the creature does exist."

Would you pour me another?
Oh, yes.

"And while
he did not see it,

he heard it.

And the Irvings, and many
of the other townspeople

are utterly convinced
that the creature does exist."

A talking...

mongoose.

I, uh, ordered you a gin rickey.

I dimly recall a fondness for...

Thank you.

Apologies for my lateness.

I took a circuitous route,

to ensure I was not
being followed.

Why on Earth
would anyone follow you?

I don't know.

I did not wish to be seen
together in this...

public place.

Have I become that unpopular
with your peers?

I'm afraid so.

The London Spiritualist Alliance

do not take kindly to your new
clinical methods of research.

So...

The mongoose.

Gef.

Well, I-I must admit I found
your letter to be intriguing.

In my nearly 30 years

of investigating
unnatural occurrences,

this is perhaps
the strangest case

I have ever encountered.

Really?

Mr. Irving, who owns the farm
upon which Gef resides,

had written me 16 letters
over the past four years,

describing the antics
of this bizarre creature.

Strange that
he never wrote to me.

Ah, the Irving family
are peculiar.

Just to be clear,

did you witness this creature
during your investigation?

Did you observe it
speaking like a human?

No.

No.

But I did hear it.

You did?

Yes. Once.

From another room.

From another room?

And you're certain
it was the creature you heard,

not someone else?

I suppose it could have been.

We were informed
by one of the townspeople

that the daughter, Voirrey,

is an adept ventriloquist.

I'm sorry.

I know how all this sounds.

What's this?

My journal.

It contains notes I took

during the investigation
of the Irving family, and Gef.

An adept ventriloquist.

The people of Cashen's Gap
are nearly unanimous

in their belief in-in Gef.

Many have encountered
the creature, or so they say.

Interesting.

You know who you remind me of?

Who's that?

Harry Houdini.

I'm far less clever than he was.

Perhaps, but your lives
have been quite similar,

in some ways.

I recall,

before you became a skeptic.

I am not a skeptic.

Before you became
what you are,

I distinctly remember
you telling me

the story of the seance
you participated in.

With a voice medium,
William Cartheuser.

You became disillusioned,
with Cartheuser,

with all mediums, as we know.

And yet, you spoke

of the overwhelming
emotional impact

of encountering...

your departed father.

What has this to do
with Houdini?

Humans are obsessed with death.

And with what does
or does not come after it.

You investigate
unnatural occurrences

under the guise of understanding

why humans project
these phantasms into reality.

Why they are incapable of
letting go of these delusions,

as you call them.

Yes.

I think you still
just miss your father.

Houdini was deeply affected

by the death of his mother,
as you know.

He visited a medium

hoping he might be able
to communicate with her.

And he realized
that the medium was a fraud.

So he sought to disprove
all mediums,

to expose all psychics

and spiritualists
as opportunists,

who prey upon the bereaved.

He would attend seances
in disguise,

and would leap forth
and explain to those present

how they were being duped...

You are a fraud!

demonstrating
the fraudulent methods

the mediums employed.

I've heard these stories.

But he wanted to believe.

He wanted to be mystified.

He wanted to find one
who did understand

so he could communicate
with his dead mother.

Did you know
that he and his wife, Bess,

devised a message

which one or the other
would relay,

via medium, after they passed?

Supposedly they told no one
this message.

I did not know this, no.

After Houdini died,

Bess visited a medium
named Arthur Ford.

And he informed her
he had received a message

from her late husband.

Is that right?

Bess confirmed
that the message was,

in fact, the code,
which only she and Harry knew.

So, what do you think
about that?

I don't think anything
about that.

Anne!

Ow! Who put that there?

Anne!

Is everything all right?

We are going
to the Isle of Man.

Golly!

"The most extraordinary part

of this amazing case

is that Mr. Irving
has kept a sort of diary

in the form of letters
of Gef's doings,

and it rivals
the Arabian Nights

in the fantastic improbabilities
which the record contains.

Before me are 200
quarto typed sheets,

and every page
describes a miracle.

I will mention some of the most
interesting incidents."

In June 1932,
Gef began killing rabbits,

for the family.

He strangled them,

and thoughtfully
left them outside

in a convenient position
on the wall.

During the next year or so,
he slaughtered scores of them

and the faunal equilibrium
of the district

was in danger of being upset.

In 1934,

Gef began making little trips
to the nearest town

and on his return,
told the farmer

what certain people
have been doing.

This was proved to be correct.

Then he became clairvoyant
and told the farmer

what was happening ten miles
away without leaving the farm.

Questioned as to whether
he was a "spirit,"

Gef said
"I am an earthbound spirit."

In July of the same year,
Gef began doing tricks.

A person would go outside
onto the farmhouse's porch

and place some pennies
on a stone.

Gef, with his eye
to the door's peephole,

would then say whether
they were heads or tails up.

Sometimes he was right.

Voirrey has even attempted
to photograph him.

But just as she was about
to press the button,

he darted off and was not
heard from for days.

Gef explained that he is afraid
of being caught.

Not by the camera,
but by a trap.

Hence his timidity.

Sometimes Gef follows
the Irvings to the nearest town

when they go marketing.

But always keeps
on the far side of the hedge,

though he chats gaily
all the time.

In March, 1935,
I received some fur and hairs

which Gef had kindly plucked
from his back and tail,

and was asked to identify it.

I forwarded it
to Professor Julian Huxley,

who handed it to
Mr. F. Martin Duncan, F.Z.S.,

the authority on hair and fur.

In a letter to me, he says:

I have carefully examined them
microscopically

and compared them
with hairs of known origin.

As a result,
I can very definitely state

that these specimen hairs
never grew upon a mongoose,

nor are they those of a rat,
rabbit, hare, squirrel,

or other rodent,
or sheep, goat, or cow.

I am inclined
that these hairs have probably

been taken from
a longish-haired dog or dogs.

Mr. Irving wrote
that he would be delighted

to see me and would make
all arrangements for my visit.

Unfortunately,
on receipt of the letter

announcing my decision,
Gef suddenly disappeared.

At the end of the month,
he was still missing,

but I decided
not to alter my plans.

And as I wanted a witness

in case Gef should put
in an appearance,

I asked Mr. R.S. Lambert,
the editor of The Listener,

if he would accompany me.

Upon our arrival to the Isle,
we decided to visit

the haunt of Gef right away.

As we approached,
Mr. Lambert and I

were startled by an animal
bounding toward us.

But it was only Ralph,

the Irving's
three-year-old dog,

who had heard
his master's voice.

We at last reached the house
and were introduced to Voirrey,

a good-looking girl of 17
who we found very intelligent,

shy, and rather quiet.

Mrs. Irving is a charming
and dignified lady

who gave us a friendly welcome

and asked us
to make ourselves at home.

Mr. Irving was a successful
Liverpool businessman

who, at the beginning
of the War,

bought the farmstead,

hoping to make a living
breeding sheep.

As we sat around
the paraffin lamp

in the small,
dark-paneled parlor,

we heard the Gef story
all over again.

Mr. Lambert and I
plied the Irvings

with innumerable questions
and received answers

which invariably tallied

with what Mr. Irving
had recorded in his letters.

The family was heartbroken
by Gef's continued absence.

Mrs. Irving
was convinced the mongoose

was still about the house.

Probably listening
to every word we were saying.

She addressed
a few words to Gef

in the hope that her appeal

would strike a sympathetic
chord somewhere.

There was no response.

Then I addressed
a little speech

to the four walls
of the living room,

hoping Gef would hear me.

I pointed out that we had come
a long way on his account,

and that we were entitled
to some manifestation.

A few words,
a scream, a squeak,

or just a simple scratch
behind the paneling.

I even invited him
to throw something at me.

But all to no purpose.

Gef was definitely
not in a talking mood.

Neither Mr. Lambert
nor I slept very well.

The mongoose problem
obsessed our minds

and made sleep difficult.

Was the whole affair
a fraud from A to Z?

Was it a plot
lasting four years?

If so, what was the motive?

Were the Irvings engaged
in a clever,

picturesque conspiracy?

Was there any
sort of animal at all?

Was there any real evidence
whatsoever

that Gef had been heard?

If a plot...

there was no apparent motive,

no financial gain.

The next morning we awoke to
the news that Gef had returned

and been talking
throughout much of the night.

Incidentally,
Gef had informed the farmer

that he had taken
a sly glance at me

and did not like how I looked.

So I was told to stand
in a certain position

on the floor and cry out
"I believe in you, Gef!"

I believe in you, Gef!

There came a shrill scream
from upstairs.

So once again I called out,
this time saying

"Won't you come down?
I believe in you!"

To which Gef replied,

"No, I don't mean to stay long,

as I don't like you!"

As the mongoose was talking,

Mr. Lambert crept
toward the stairs.

But unfortunately,

the top stair
had a loose tread,

which he stepped on
and went tumbling down,

making a terrible noise.

Gef shrieked out
"He is coming!" and vanished.

The Irvings
were kindness personified,

and did everything for us,
except produce Gef.

Mr. Irving personally
conducted us over the house

and pointed out Gef's haunts.

We saw numerous peepholes,

cracks through which Gef
threw things

at doubting visitors.

Squint-holes
through which the mongoose

watches the Irvings.

We saw the runs behind paneling

by which Gef can skip, unseen,

from one room to another.

The fact that every room
is paneled

makes the whole house
one enormous speaking-tube,

with walls
like sounding-boards.

In Voirrey's room
we were shown Gef's "sanctum,"

which was a boxed partition,

on top of which Gef
was said to dance

to the gramophone
and bounce his favorite ball.

By speaking into one of the
many apertures in the panels,

it should be possible

to convey the voice

to various parts of the house.

Apparently,
Gef often does this.

Can I fetch you a drink?

Thank you.
No, um, I'm exhausted.

I think I'm going
to retire early.

Tomorrow should be
interesting.

I'm going to go to
the, uh, pub for a nightcap.

Unless there's anything else
you might need?

Uh, no, by all means.

And, um, if you happen to see
any talking mongeese...

It's mongooses,
I believe.

Well, if you happen to see
any of either then,

inform me right away.

Yes, of course.

Night.
Good night.

Good evening.

And to you.
Is the bar closed?

What would you like to drink,
m'dear?

A whiskey.

I dunno if it's good whiskey
I'm afraid.

Well, shouldn't we wait for...

For whom?

Here to see ol' Gef, right?

I am the assistant
to Dr. Nandor Fodor,

the world's
foremost parapsychologist.

And we are here
to investigate a possible

supernatural occurrence

involving an entity known as,

yes, Gef.

Hm.

Gef ain't supernatural.

He's an earth spirit.

Told me that hisself, he did.

Have you encountered him?

Indeed I have.

Once.

Were near two years past now.

Did you see him?
Can you describe him?

Were but only
for the briefest of moments.

And outta the corner
of me eye.

Oh, I see.

But I heard him speak.

Clear as day.

It were after the funeral rites
Father Penzen read

for my beloved Helen.

Is that your wife?

Aye.

Nigh onto 30 years.

It was consumption took her...

before her time.

I am very sorry.

I'd had a few that day.

I wasn't copin' too well
with her loss.

So by's time
the rites had been read,

I had to piss somethin' fierce.

So I went 'round the side
of that old church,

where I'd be outta sight.

And it was when I was standin'
there, pissin',

that I heard him.

Gef?
Aye.

He recited a poem to me.

And even now, rememberin',
I get a bit blubbery.

"I dreamed that one
had died in a strange place

Near no accustomed hand

And they had nailed
the boards above her face

The peasants of that land

Wondering to lay her
in that solitude

And raised above her mound

A cross they had made
out of two bits of wood

And planted cypress round

And left her
to the indifferent stars above

Until I carved these words

She was more beautiful
than thy first love

But now lies under boards..."

That were the day
I finally quit drinkin'.

That poem was by Yeats,
wasn't it?

It's "A Dream of Death."

Aye.

But it weren't only the poem
itself that struck me so.

It were that voice.

That voice
that got inside of me.

Felt like it were playin' up
my spinal cord like piano keys.

I see.

I'd been numb.

See?

Unaccepting that she were gone.

It were the first time I allowed
myself to feel the pain.

I needed to.

I needed to.

I understand.

Ya wanna know the strangest
part of the whole story, though?

There's something stranger
than what you just told me?

Aye.

My Helen passed in April of '33.

Good Friday,
if you can believe it.

Oh.

That poem, Yeats, as you know,

it weren't published
until the summer of '34.

Oh.

Hm.

You don't believe me, do ya?

Well, it was a very sad story.

Aye.

You must understand,
Dr. Fodor has instilled in me

a tremendous skepticism.

He always says,
"Believe only that

which can be seen and heard,

touched, detected
by instruments of science.

Believe not words,

but provable, observable facts."

And that's how ya live, then?

I mean, Dr. Fodor
is a brilliant man.

Your story's as sad as mine,
I think.

In its own way.

Hey. Hey.

You must be Dr. Fodor.
Yeah. Hello.

You must be Anne.
How do you do?

Delighted to make
your acquaintance!

Welcome to Cashen's Gap!

I see you've already met
our mayor!

We're all very excited
that you're here.

Dr. Price spoke
quite highly of you.

Now, he was a lovely man,
he was.

Oh. Indeed.

Best of luck to you.

Oh, thank you, Maurice.

Mayor.

Have to drive you
rest of the way to the house

if that's all right with you.

The, uh, grade can be a bit more

uneven at times, I'm afraid.

I think we will be fine.

The warmth of this winter
in particular,

makes it very suitable
for cultivation of apricots.

Delicious little darlings,
if you've never had 'un.

I think I'm gonna be sick.
Oh, gosh.

And here, closer to the water,
the soil's a lot lighter,

more akin to sand, so
the cherry trees just love it.

You can see 'em there.

What?

And with how warm it's been,
as I mentioned,

you know, the fruit's
just been growin' so well.

Last year was more profitable
than the previous,

which had been more profitable
than the previous.

And this year, you know,
set to be the best yet.

You know, it's more work,
but it's rewarding, in its way.

Oh, Dr. Fodor,
this is my wife, Margaret.

Maggie,
this is Dr. Nandor Fodor,

and his assistant, Anne.

It's a real pleasure
to meet ya, Dr. Fodor.

Dr. Price spoke so admiringly
of ya in his letters.

I wanted to have read your book
before you arrived,

but when I ordered it
from Pavel's in town,

they said it'd be a month
before a copy came.

Well, that is very kind,
and, uh, entirely unnecessary.

And aren't you
a beautiful thing?

Such eleemosynary eyes.

Hello.

Married, are you? Hmm?

Oh. Oh, no.

I'm sor... I'm...

No. I'm-I'm-I'm...

I'm Dr. Fodor's assistant.

I didn't mean to each other,
silly girl.

Though by your reaction,
perhaps I touched

on a subject
that's a wee bit sore.

For God's sake.

I meant are you married at all!

You've a figure suitable
for birthin'.

Um...

May I see your hand?

Oh, gosh, yes.

So, your love line...
Oh, here.

All right, all right,
that's enough of that.

They haven't come all this way
to hear you prattle on.

I'm sorry.

And you must be Voirrey.

Pleased to meet you,
Dr. Fodor.

Dr. Price mentioned that you are
an accomplished ventriloquist.

Oh.

I wouldn't consider
myself accomplished, sir.

Self-taught, are we?

Yes, sir. Used to make my dolls
talk, when I was a girl.

One day I scared
my friend, Saoirse,

'cause she thought
they were really talkin'.

Fascinating.

Oh, this is my hand, Errol.

He, uh, sees to the house,
tends the crops with me.

He lives in the guest house.

I'm honored to make your
acquaintance, Dr. Fodor.

And I yours.

And who are these?

Ralph and Rolf.

Which one is this?

That's Rolf.

Rolf?

Well, thank you
for introducing us

to your lovely family,
uh, Mr. Irving.

We have, as you said,
traveled a great distance,

in the hope that we might meet

another member
of your household.

Yes, of course,
you're here to see Gef.

Indeed.

Now, uh, is the creature here?
May we see him?

Creature? Uh, well.

Gef is always here,
you know, you might say.

He's always about. Um...

But he is not currently
in the house.

At the moment.
He left about a week ago.

Shortly after we informed him
you were comin' actually.

He, um, he gets a bit upset,
you know, when we bring

experts in to see him.

Yeah, he sees it as an insult.

He says he knows he exists,
so why's he got

to prove it to anyone else?

Ah.

Nothin' to worry about,
you know, I assure you!

As I said, Gef's always here,
this is his home.

If I had to guess,
I would say the wee rascal's

probably watchin' us right now.

Yeah.

Tryin' to get the measure of ya.

No, but there's a cave,

about half a mile
up the mountain,

and often that
when he's not in the house

that's where I'll find him.

That's almost certain
where he's gonna be.

Anyway, come inside
and have a cuppa tea.

My wife's baked a raspberry
tart you've just got to taste.

Oh, that sounds lovely.

Come on. Come on.

I've found that when Gef's not
here in the house with us,

oftentimes he can be
found in a cave

toward the top of the mountain.

And I'd wager
that's where he is now.

I see.

A bit of a hike
to get there, though.

You know, it's all uphill,

the trail's a bit uneven.

Doesn't bother Gef
much, I presume,

with his quick
little feet.

But might prove a bit
more trying

for our awkward
human paws.

So... not here at the moment,
as we've determined.

Don't know what else
to do with the day.

Well...

let's see that cave.

Do you know how many breeds
of sheep there are in the world?

I confess I do not.

Many thousands.

Although only a rare few

are what we call
"fine wool"

but they're not
as common here.

Although I've had a lot
of success with Rambouillet,

although they generally
don't prefer the rain.

Fascinating.

What's fascinating?

Sheep.

Oh. Oh.

All right. Here we are.

One of Gef's favorite
hiding spots.

Gef!

Gef! You in there, old boy?

I got Dr. Fodor and his lovely
assistant here to see you.

See, the cave goes in
a fair bit.

Because he ain't answerin'
and we can't see him,

doesn't mean he ain't here.

You know, perhaps—
you don't have to, of course,

but perhaps if you
announce yourself to him,

just say there's absolutely
no doubt in your mind he's real

and that might assuage
any concerns he may have,

and convince him
to show himself.

What exactly would you
like me to say?

Just that.
Just tell him who you are,

and that you're certain
he's real,

and that you mean
no harm to him.

Not here to
vivisect him or anything.

Let's just say hello.

Hello?
Hm.

Hello. Very well.

Hello.

Hello, Gef.

Go on, go on.
Right.

My name is Dr. Nandor Fodor.

And, um...

Mr. Irving has instructed me
to inform you

that I believe that,
uh, you exist.

And, uh...

I would add that, um, if you are
currently residing in this cave,

would you be amenable
to venturing out

so that we may converse?

I am very excited

to make your acquaintance.

How was that?
That was brilliant.

Really good.
Brilliant.

Yeah.

You know, if he is in there,

I've absolutely
no doubt in my mind

that speech is certain
to draw him out.

Really?

Damn. Oh, damn.

What?

I'm truly sorry, Dr. Fodor.
I really am.

Appears our little friend
isn't here at the moment.

Perhaps he is in town.

You know, probably slipped past
us as we were climbing up.

Could be back at the house,
playing in Voirrey's room.

He's got a little space there...

Yeah, I know. I know.

I did read Dr. Price's diary.

Indeed. Well...

Seeing as Gef isn't gonna
grace us with his presence,

maybe we should venture
into the cave anyway?

You see, one unfortunate
characteristic of Gef

is that he can be a bit
of a thief at times.

You know,
often we'll find this or that,

trinket or bauble missing,
a trifle from the kitchen.

Others in town have reported
similar incidents.

Maybe...

he has been ferreting away
some of his plunder here?

Yeah.

Please, after you.

Well, I'll just leave
my bag here,

because if you fall
I'll need my hands.

Yes, you go first.

Be careful.
Yes.

Yes, yes, as I suspected.

A veritable trove
of ill-gotten goods.

Come on, come see.

Oh, yeah.

God.

Yes, look at this.

I would say...

unquestionably,
that's Gef's as well.

Want to take that back to London
with you, for testing?

Thank you, Mr. Irving.

I'll make sure this gets
safely back to London.

Yeah.

I did once
see a mongoose in India, 1929.

Oh, right. Did it talk?

What are you laughing at?

Nothing.

Was there a pair of women's
undergarments back there?

Look, from what I hear,
everybody on this island

has their Gef story.

An account of their encounter
with this creature.

Tell me yours.

I got no Gef story.
No?

I find that incredible,

considering you reside
on the Irving Farm.

I got no Gef story.

You and I both know...

there ain't no Gef.

What did you just say?

What did you just say?

Oh, golly. Oh golly, lemonade.

Um, I'm going to need
to use the loo

before we brave
that road again.

Could you just...
Thank you.

Just... Thank you!

All right.

♪ Someday I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

♪ True to the dream
I am dreaming ♪

♪ As I draw near you ♪

♪ You'll smile a little smile ♪

♪ For a little while ♪

Just like that.

♪ Someday, I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

Oh. Hello, Ms. Anne.

Hello, Voirrey.
Uh, sorry for the intrusion.

I was just coming upstairs
and I heard you singing.

May I come in?

Gosh, you have such
a lovely room.

That was Noel Coward, the song?

You have a lovely voice.

Thank you. So do you.

Oh. Well, that's very kind
of you to say.

Would you mind telling me
a bit more about your talent?

I could teach you if you like.

It's quite simple, really.

I'm not sure I'd be any good.

It's quite simple.

I promise.

You... you just...
you just did it.

That's incredible.

Keep your mouth mostly closed.

Your tongue loose.

There are certain sounds
that are easier to make

without moving your lips.

Oh.

Try it.

Now?

Now. Speak.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Yes. I should need a bit
more practice, I think.

Indeed.

The way you throw your voice?

It's a marvel.

It is.

That is something I would be
very interested in learning.

I could teach you the theory,
I think.

But it requires a lot
of practice.

Oh, I'm sure.

Humans can actually determine
from whence a sound comes.

We hear it with our eyes
as much as we do our ears.

Sound has no direction,
only modulation.

Sounds that are further away
sound different...

than those nearby.

Oh. Gosh. It's...
it's fascinating.

♪ Someday, I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

♪ True to the dream
I am dreaming ♪

You are a wonder.

Why don't you give it a try?

Oh, I have no idea how.

Just try.

Focus all your attention
on to that spot on the wall,

and make it sing.

Make it sing.

I don't know how.
Try.

♪ Moonlight behind... ♪

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Put your voice into the space.

Make the space sing.

All right. But I don't think
it's going to work.

♪ Someday, I'll find you ♪

♪ Moonlight behind you ♪

♪ True to the dream
I am dreaming ♪

♪ As I draw near you
You'll smile a little smile ♪

♪ For a little while ♪

They're, um, they're
gonna be waiting for me.

I have to go.

I sincerely apologize
for having brought you here.

Oh, there's no need
to apologize.

They're very kind people.

Lunatics. The lot of them.

Particularly the patriarch.

I remain entirely mystified
as to their motives,

but am certain that
this is an inexplicable farce.

The only one among them
with any sense whatsoever

would seem
to be their man, Errol.

Well, I think they're all
very kind.

There was...

There was a pair
of undergarments

in that cave today.

Did you notice that?

A woman's small clothes.

Do you really think
there's no possible chance

they're telling the truth?

I beg your pardon.

I know today was unusual.

And I know that
the Irvings are unusual.

This thought keeps going round
and round in my head.

Why?

If it is as you said
and it's all a great charade,

then what is
the Irvings' motive?

Ere the arrival of Gef—
At the alleged arrival!

Ere the alleged incident,

the Irvings were
a well-to-do family,

they've a pristine reputation
they're financially secure.

Didn't strike me as con artists.

If they were charging
admission, perhaps.

Do you really have
no theories whatsoever?

Now that you've met them.

If it were an individual person
suffering from these delusions—

if it were just Mr. Irving
espousing the existence

of this creature
at the behest of his family

and the townspeople,
then perhaps I could formulate

a thorough
psychological evaluation.

But the fact that
it is the entire family,

the entire town,
it would seem...

So you think it is some
sort of mass hysteria?

And you do not believe,

it is in the realm
of possibility

that the Irvings are telling
the truth and that Gef is real?

Do you?

Anne?

Is everything...

Sorry to disturb you
so late, sir.

But there's a call for you.

A call?

At this hour?

From whom?

Is it from America?

Not from America, sir.

The call...

it is from...

him.

Hello.

Hello, this is Dr. Nandor Fodor.

There does not appear
to be anyone

on the other end of the line.

Dr. Fodor...
Yes.

Yes. Hello. Uh...
with whom am I speaking, please?

I am a freak!

I have hands and I have feet!

And if you ever saw me,
you would be paralyzed,

petrified, mummified,
and turned to a pillar of salt!

All right.

I am the fifth dimension!

I am the eighth wonder
of the world.

I can split an atom.

Uh, yes. Uh...

Gef, is-is that you?

I am the Holy Ghost!

Yes, that-that-that
is wonderful.

Uh, Gef, I went today
with Mr. Irving to a cave

where you have, uh, previously
been observed and, uh...

well, had you been there, you
would have heard me proclaim,

in no uncertain terms,
my sincere belief in your...

uh, well, existence.

Um, and so I suppose
I should say,

I would very much like
to meet you in person,

if you were so inclined.

Um, I promise you,
I have no malicious intentions

towards you whatsoever.

I shall never see you again.

Again?

Did-did you see me today
at-the-at the cave?

Your father.

What about him?

Hm. That's what
your father said to you.

Before you left.

I shall never see you again.

What?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I shall let you
see me.

How could you know
that about my father?

Hello?

I am— I mean, was
something of a public figure

and some scientific
and pseudo-scientific journals

have published articles
about me, haven't they?

And...

theoretically, if you wish

to discover certain facts
about my life,

how I left Budapest
for New York,

and then, surmise how...

a-a certain conversation
may have gone.

Fine morning to the both of you!
I trust you slept soundly?

Yes. Thank you.

No.

Oh.

I'll admit I was very surprised,
waking to hear

the news that Gef had extended
an invitation to you personally!

What? He called
you on the phone, did he?

Someone called me last night.
Yes.

I wonder whose telephone
he accosted for that purpose,

the wee devil.

The Guileys, I'd wager.

They've got an old
candlestick phone

right next to the window
in their foyer.

It would've been easy for him
to slip in and dial you.

He's got such
nimble little fingers.

Does he now?

Hmm. Hmm.

Hmm.

Here we are.

Hmm.
Thank you, love.

Uh, will Voirrey
be joining us today?

I-I'm afraid she's not
feeling well, poor girl.

She's got a mild allergy
to ragwort,

if you can believe that.

So summers can be a bit...

I see.

Oh! I nearly forgot!

Encyclopaedia
of Psychic Science.

What a mouthful!

It arrived at
Pavel's yesterday,

shortly before
their usual closing time.

But they waited for me
to rush over and pick it up.

I can't wait to read it!

I'll give you my honest
thoughts, when I've finished.

Yesterday, you say.

Well, I, uh,
I hope you enjoy it.

"The only comprehensive survey

of every kind of psychical
phenomena known to mankind".

Well, I presume
Gef's not in it.

So you'll have to write
a sequel after today.

Looks like you weren't the only
one Gef called last night!

Well, it's, uh...

It's a pleasure to receive
so many of you here today.

I hope you'll excuse
my not having provided

adequate refreshments
for the occasion.

And, had my wife and I known
so many of you were comin',

we'd have tea and biscuits
for the lot of ya.

Gef failed to inform us
he had spoken to so many of you.

Called me in the dead
of night, he did!

Asked after sister
and her drinkin'.

How in the bloody hell
did he know about that?

Called me Candy.

Nobody's called me that
since me grandma

passed on 20 years ago!

Yes! Yes, I know
we're all very excited!

But please, please.
Now as I was saying...

We've got guests who've
traveled a great distance

in order to investigate
our friend Gef.

That's Dr. Nandor Fodor
and his assistant, Anne.

Now, Dr. Fodor is one
of the world's leading experts

in the field of the paranormal.

A term I think we can all agree,
aptly describes our friend Gef.

Now as we all know,

Gef can be a bit
of a skittish fellow at times.

I mean,
I was genuinely surprised

he was open to this viewing.
So...

Unfortunately,
it is all gonna be a bit brief.

While I'd like you all
to be able to talk,

you know,
if we all start shouting

he's just gonna get
agitated and run off. So...

Do I have your agreement
from the lot of you

that you're gonna do your best
to remain calm?

Yes.

Yeah.
Really?

Well, yeah.

Yeah.

Right then.

This way, please.

Right.
Just take a step back, please.

It's a bit dark in here,
isn't it?

Now, we're gonna
take back the sheet.

But I think it's only fair

that we allow
our distinguished guests

to be the first to address Gef.

Go on.

Is-is that him?
There? In the box?

That little...
little tuft of fur?

Looks like he's bein'
a bit shy after all.

Well, can you tell him
to come out so we can see him?

Can you tell him
to come out so we can see him?

Ask him your question now,
before he has a change of heart.

Uh, yes, Gef. Hello. Thank you
for letting us meet you in...

person at last.

Um, Mr. Irving said that
we could ask you a question.

Is-is that all right?

Hmm... yes.

Right.
When we spoke on the telephone

the other night, uh,
you said something.

You repeated something
that my father said to me

a long time ago.

Um, how did you know
that he said those words?

How did you know that he told me
he would never see me again?

I have seen beyond
the bounds of infinity

and drawn down
demons from the stars.

I have harnessed the shadows
that stride from world to world

to sow death and madness.

Come on,
get him outside.

Let's give him some air.

This may be a bullshit.
Take a look.

I am— I am deeply sorry,
Dr. Fodor.

All the commotion
will have scared poor Gef off.

But as I said to you before,
he always returns, in time.

You have been here all along.

You know that
this is a great farce.

You know that
these people are mad.

And yet you do nothing.

You indulge them.

So do you.

I am here in the name
of scientific research.

If you say so.

None of this bothers you.

These people obsessed
with an entity that they cannot

even reliably prove is real.

That it is adults
perpetuating this nonsense.

Men and women who are,
for all intents and purposes,

ordinary, functioning
members of society.

Why do you care so much?

It is my job to care.
To understand.

All anyone wants in this
world... is to be happy.

Maybe you'd be happy
if you let people believe

what they want to believe.

Your perspective is endearing
but childishly simplistic.

Who in this world
is happier than a child, hmm?

Maybe...

simple ain't so bad, eh?

But these people are lying!

Oh, everyone lies.

They are intentionally,

inexplicably misleading others!

People love that mongoose.

The one that does not exist.

Yeah.
Yeah.

Well, I intend to expose
that they're lying.

Okay.

You must be
a lot of fun at parties.

Excuse me?

I am invited to and attend
many parties.

More than you,
I would wager!

And I have many interesting
conversations at these parties!

Enlightening,
entertaining discussions

with people
from every field of study

and strata of society.

Yeah.

When you walk away,
they call you an asshole.

Asshole.

Whereby,
I previously stated

that the housekeeper, Errol,

was the only person
at the Irving estate

with even an ounce of sense...

I rescind that statement now.

I believe he may be
the craziest of them all.

"Why do you care so much?"

he had the gall to ask me.

With casual disregard
for my almost 20 years

of research in this field.

Research which, I may say,

has proven invaluable to many.

"Let people believe what
they want to believe."

That doesn't seem like
the worst advice in the world.

Should I have remained a lawyer?

You always said
you hated practicing law.

I did.

My father...

his dream was that I remain
in Budapest

and marry Hanna Varga.

A simple life.

Would that have made you happy?

No.

But I might still be
with my father now

and not on this accursed island
chasing an imaginary mongoose.

He's not imaginary.

I'm sorry. What?

Gef.

I think he not only exists,

much as the Irvings
have described him,

but I'm certain of it.

You're certain of it?

You had better
not fucking be serious.

Good night, Nandor.

It's Dr. Fodor!

And good night!

Maurice!

Dr. Fodor.

I have just received a call
from the Irving family.

I see.

And they have requested that I

come up to the— to perform
some further investigation,

at their residence.

So I will need you
to drive me up to the farm.

It's a bit late, isn't it?

Hmm. Oh, and I will need
to borrow this.

Gef!

Are you here, Gef?

Gef! It's your friend,
Dr. Fodor!

I'd just love to speak
with you for a moment.

I'll let you steal
my underpants!

Dr. Fodor?

- Is everything all right?
- Ah!

Feeling better,
are we, Voirrey?

You know, I must confess,
we weren't expecting

another visit from you
this evening.

Where is Gef?

He's not here at the moment.

I'm afraid today's excitement
scared him off.

But if you return tomorrow
at a reasonable hour...

Gef!
Dr. Fodor! Please!

I need... I need to come inside
for some further investigation.

I don't think that's a good idea
to allow you in our home

at this time,
in your condition.

Oh, in my condition?

Hmm.

Well, very well.
If you will not let me in,

I will conduct my own
investigation out here.

Gef!

I'm going to check
the barn.

Go and alert
the constable.

Dr. Fodor!

I've instructed Margaret
to go and alert the constable.

Now I would advise you

to accompany Maurice
back to his car,

and he can take you
back to your inn,

where you can
sleep this off.

Oh, Gef!

Little Geffer?

I want to talk to you!

We can talk more
about my father!

I'll— I'll give you
a signed copy of my book!

Dr. Fodor! No!

Apologies, my friend.

Ah. Ow.

Ah.

Hello?

Hello!

Sounds like someone got
a bit hammered this evening.

Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie.
Where do we go after we die?

Who's there?

If only you were little like me,

you could squeeze between
these bars and be free!

This is madness.

Gef, is it?

I refuse to participate
in this...

farce any longer.

Hello?

Hello!

I require the use
of a telephone,

so I may call my assistant
to arrange my release.

I have an account at
the, uh, Abbey Bank in London,

if I am required
to post some kind of bond.

Or, if you would prefer,

my attorney is Marlon Sandersen,
Esquire, in New York City.

I can assure you
I will be placing a call to him

if I am not released
immediately.

Right, right. So be it.

Damn you!

Whoever you are!

How did you know
what my father said to me?

Did-did-did you read my book?

What-what do you hope
to gain...

from this...

insanity?

Is it-is it some kind of...
financial incentive? Or...

do you just crave attention?

That's it. That's it, isn't it?
It's...

Well, then show yourself!

If you are able to squeeze
through these bars,

like you say,
then step into the corridor

and let me look at you!

Let me get
a good look at you, Gef!

I intend to publish an article

about this entire incident
on my return to London.

And...

the tone of that article,

the way in which I portray you

and the Irving family
and this entire accursed island

shall be determined
by this moment

and whether or not
you let me look upon you.

Please!

What if there
is nothing after this?

No Heaven, no Hell.
Just nothing.

No awareness of the fact
that we were ever aware at all.

Stop it! Please!

Just show yourself.

Just for a moment, please.
Just...

Just show me that you're real.

Just a-a-a tuft
of your little tail.

W-Wait!
What if you scratch my arm?

With your claws,
just a little scratch. Please.

Please, I'm begging you.
Just a little scratch,

with your little claws.

I don't want to hurt you.

Even though you want to hurt me.

I don't!

I don't want to hurt you.

What do you mean?

I mean you no harm.

And I don't mind. Really. Just—

I'm asking, I am begging you,
please.

Just scratch my arm, there.
Just on the wrist.

Ow! Ow!

Thank you.

You all right?

Yeah.
I think it is time

that I returned to London.

After careful consideration,

I've decided that upon
returning to London,

I will be tending my resignation
as your assistant.

Because of the mongoose.

Yes.

And because I am unhappy.

So am I.

I will offer my wholehearted
recommendation

to any future
prospective employers

should they contact me
regarding you.

Thank you.

And...

I will miss you.

I will miss you too, Nandor.

Well, then don't leave.

I have already decided.

Well, then undecide.

Do you really, really, really
want me to stay?

I would be utterly lost
without you.

Well...

Were I to consider staying,

I should require a raise in pay
by a dollar an hour.

Oh.

Fine.

And a letter
of introduction

to Dr. Elliot Weaving
of the University of Kent's

Paranormal Research Department.

I despise that man.

He respects you.

Fine. Anything else?

Yes.

You must consider...
the possibility, at least,

that Gef is real.

I wish you the best
in all your future endeavors.

Fine!

A dollar an hour?

Yes.

And the letter of introduction.

Reluctantly, yes.

Then I accept.

Welcome back.

The Calvert, was it?

It was. But, um, I regret
to inform you that, uh...

I've quit drinking.
Oh.

The trip was that bad?

From Mr. James Irving.

Oh, God.

"Dr. Fodor,

while your trip
to Dalby Mountain

began somewhat auspiciously,

the way in which you made
your departure was..."

Blah, blah, blah.

"I regret to inform you
that I have employed

the honorable Karl Leibovitz,

an attorney from Leeds
who specializes

in litigating cases
involving libel, slander,

and defamation suits."

Oh. Incredible.

Uh, blah, blah
and we get to the— ah, yes.

"I inform you of all this
not as a threat,

but as a piece of information
for you to keep in mind

when and if you ever decide
to publish an account

chronicling your time
at Cashen's Gap."

Oh.

You want me to order you
a glass of water?

Uh, please.

What about Gef himself?

Have you heard from the bastard?

He calls me once a week,
at least.

He called me about a month ago.

Told me that I had left
one of my shoes behind,

and that he was keeping it safe
in his little cave,

should I ever care to return.

Son of a bitch!

Gef has become a bit
of a local celebrity.

Did you hear about the case
of R.S. Lambert

and the British
Broadcasting Company?

Indeed.

And did you hear
that after you left,

a filmmaker by the name
of Roger Sanz

brought a film crew to the Isle

to attempt to obtain evidence
of Gef

via motion pictures?

Did I hear!

The Haunting
of the Isle of Man.

I attended
the film's premiere,

if you could call it that.

On the remote Isle of Man,

a little seen but much heard
little creature

going by the name of Gef
is fast becoming

as famous a mystery
as the Loch Ness Monster,

only this elusive
creature talks,

baffling experts
with his sinister

and powerful pronouncements.

I saw it shortly thereafter.

I think it, uh, unequivocally

puts the mystery of Gef's
existence to rest.

Will you be publishing
an article

about your experience, then,

considering how litigious our
friend Mr. Irving has become?

I think I will, yes.

Hmm.

A braver man than I!

Well, I will portray the Irvings
and their imaginary pet

in a far kinder hue
than they deserve.

And though my time
at the farm was admittedly...

horrific,

as the weeks and months pass,
I recall with...

more and more fondness
my bizarre time there.

I feel the same.

And in the end,

do you feel as though
you understand any better

the phenomena that is Gef?

Or the motives of the Irvings?

Perhaps.

Why is it that we write,
Dr. Price?

Hmmm.

To chronicle our experiences,
I suppose?

To remember.

Perhaps you can recall
every detail

of the cases
you've investigated,

but I fear...

entire sections of my life
have faded from view.

That is not what I meant.

To journal certainly,

but why do we publish
our writings?

To remember, you said.

No, we publish our writings
to be remembered.

We do not speak of it, often,

but we want our names
to be known.

To be recognized
within our field, and without.

I do not want fame!

Neither do I.

But we would not publish
our findings,

we would not write novels,
Dr. Price,

if we did not wish them
to be read.

It is incredibly ironic

that one of the most profound
questions I have ever been asked

was by none other
than Gef himself.

You're kidding!

No.

"What if there is nothing
after this?"

the creature entreated.

"No Heaven, no Hell.
Just nothing.

No awareness that
we were ever aware at all."

A grim query!

Indeed.

What if there is nothing
before or after?

What if this is all there is?

If that is so, then...

all that is left
after our bodies die

are the things we leave behind.

In your case, and in mine,
it is our writings.

The tales of the bizarre places
we have been,

the-the people and phenomena
we have observed.

That we have experienced
these things,

is what makes us unique,

among the two billion or so
people on this planet.

What, then,
makes the Irvings unique?

For what will they
be remembered?

Yeah, I just wanted to give out,
uh, a shout to the entire...

well, almost,

the entire cast and crew,
uh, on the production

of Nandor Fodor
and the Talking Mongoose.

An extraordinary cast,
incredible crew, amazing DOP.

Extraordinary costumes, set.
I mean, everything was amazing.

Um, apart from working
with Adam. Um...

'cause he is a bit of a diva,
to say the least.

I've been in this business
for over 40-plus years.

I've worked with some
great actors,

great writers, directors,

all kinds of great people.

But I've never worked
with a complete.

And the guy who wins that prize
is a guy called Adam Sigal.

Who calls himself a director.

Really, really challenging guy,
yeah.

You get a project

and you read it
and you get excited about it

and the money is good
and all that stuff,

and then you get there
and there's just...

this guy at the helm.

The man's a fool.
Couldn't direct traffic.

And I was like, "Oh, by the way,

there's two words that
I wanted to just swap around,

because I just think it might
fly a little bit better."

And he said, "What the
did you say about my script?"

If something wasn't going right,

he would just stand up
and shout,

and then just storm off,

and you wouldn't see him
for hours.

And then when he was ready
to come on set,

he wouldn't come back on set.

He would just send back
an Alsatian called Gavin,

who he then would scream
from the other room,

"Gavin's now directing!"

And you can tell, obviously,
when watching the movie,

the parts that are directed
by a dog.

Because they're better!

I... I can't talk right now.

He grabbed me
by the back of my hair.

He slammed my face down
really hard on my desk.

That was day one.

Uh, Adam Sigal
is a bubble,

and I wish that mother

would just off
back to Florida

with the rest
of the alligators

and hicks that
he hangs out with.

What a!

What a!

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