Original subtitles

*

*

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and brooders.

I decided to go into the egg business.

Like any other business, it needs fresh ideas.

Here is our latest design.

Its advantages are obvious.

No more eggs rolling off the table.

Valuable storage space saved in the refrigerator.

Unfortunately, this particular innovation

has not filtered down below the management level.

Our executives quickly saw its possibilities,

but the hens seem rather slow at grasping new ideas.

This is one of our plastic models.

We have a large number of them scattered about

to demonstrate to the hens what can be done

if they put their minds to it.

As you can see,

we are using every psychological weapon at man's disposal.

And now, perhaps, this slogan will also give you strength

to bridge the gap between this vignette

and tonight's story.

(chickens clucking)

Greetings.

Lovely day, isn't it?

No doubt you're very surprised to find yourself visiting me

here on my poultry farm in New Zealand.

The only poultry farm of any size completely

and perfectly run by one man--

myself.

Oh, but you're right,

that still doesn't make me famous, does it?

Oh, nowadays, when television cameras pry everywhere

you're probably more accustomed

to visiting the homes of well-known statesmen, artists.

People who, shall we say, have made their mark.

Well, I have made my mark.

I could be quite famous if I chose to be.

The reason you've never heard of me is that I succeeded.

I succeeded, and only failure

in the particular accomplishment I'm speaking of

brings notoriety.

You're a lovely plump one, aren't you?

Yes, nicely stuffed and basted

with just the right amount of seasoning.

You'll make a superb dinner.

(chicken clucks)

Yes, that's right.

I'm a murderer.

*

Perfect, I think.

*

Why is it that the only time food turns out superbly

is when you cook it yourself?

There, excellent.

Oh, did I shock you when I told you I was a murderer?

I hope not.

I certainly didn't mean to.

Actually, there's a very common misconception

held by most people about murderers.

How often have you heard us described as "cold-blooded,"

"fiends," "inhuman monsters" and the like?

Deplorable exaggerations, really.

But, obviously, you can see I'm not any of those things.

The truth is, in my own case, it was an act of kindness.

There.

All finished.

Mmm.

You see, Helen personified all those qualities in people

which made me withdraw from them

and choose chickens instead.

Oh, true, chickens have all the same qualities,

but in them, it's forgivable.

Well, at least they can't take advantage

of someone like myself,

someone too sympathetic, too understanding.

Oh, Helen was only one of the many who took advantage

of these qualities in me.

But she was certainly the worst.

You see, Helen believed in her own golden rule.

"Every man for himself."

Ahh.

Of course, in her case, it was different.

It was "every woman."

Perhaps, you'll understand it better if I told you

exactly how it happened.

You see, Helen and I were engaged

and everything was going along fairly smoothly,

until one night she arrived here at the farm unexpectedly.

*

Oh, it's too dreadful.

I just don't know how to tell you.

I really don't.

Tell me what, my dear?

Well, I...

Oh, no, I can't.

I just can't.

But Arthur, you must believe one thing.

I don't want to hurt you.

I couldn't bear to hurt you.

I told it to Stanley, I told everyone the same thing.

And now you're telling me.

But I have to.

It's the only thing I can do.

I assumed that.

Now, just what is this dreadful calamity?

Well, I can't marry you, my darling.

You can't marry me.

How ironic.

Well, that's a funny thing to say.

Not really.

So, you can't marry me.

Well, that means you're marrying someone else.

And I suppose this, uh, Stanley is the lucky man?

How much is he settling on you?

It will be easier for both of us

if you would be a little bit more civilized about it.

Oh, but I am being civilized.

I'm releasing you.

I wish you well.

I even wish this poor Stanley, whoever he is, well.

You know perfectly well who he is!

You introduced me to him.

You can't mean Stanley Braithwaite.

That gambler?

Financier.

Oh!

Well, whatever he's calling himself these days,

he still has the most appalling table manners

of anyone I've ever met.

It so happens that there are more important things

in the world than table manners.

Oh?

Though you may not think so.

And what is your idea of more important things?

Well, to live some kind of life.

Travel, see the world, wonderful places,

wear good clothes, jewelry.

One thing about you, Helen,

your aspirations have always been of the highest.

But most of all, not to be buried in this farm,

as you call it.

Why not what you used to call it?

A haven.

A place where one could spend the rest of one's life in peace.

Really, Arthur, you have a talent for being nasty.

Do I?

One sometimes takes on the coloring of one's associates.

Think I'd better go.

Yes.

No doubt Stanley is waiting.

But you could tell me one thing before you go.

Why did you agree to marry me in the first place?

I was afraid at the time

that there might not be anything better.

Goodbye, Arthur.

*

*

Well, John, nice to see you.

Hello, Arthur.

Not an official visit, I trust?

Oh, not likely.

I was on my way into town,

thought I'd stop by and see the new pride and joy.

Well, how do you like it?

Very impressive.

Filled with labor-saving devices, no doubt?

Oh, completely.

Come inside and I'll show you.

With all this new machinery,

I'll even be able to mix the feed for the chickens myself.

(machinery grinding)

And I've got everything I need for a balanced diet

stored in these tanks.

That seems to be your new ambition in life,

to be able to run the whole place entirely by yourself.

Not so new--it's been my ambition for over a year.

Yes, ever since Helen.

Ever since--

Ever since I came of age, shall we say?

Well, that's one way of putting it.

Are you really happier like this?

But of course.

Why should that puzzle you?

I don't know.

It seems as if, by rights, that you should be married.

Married is the last thing I'll ever be.

John, you don't know the joy of having everything

exactly the way you want it.

No petty annoyances.

No catering to other people's demands.

It's the perfect life, really.

But do you like living alone?

I like doing what most people would like to do,

but simply haven't the courage.

They're so afraid of being lonely,

they surround themselves with a lot of friends

they don't even like.

Or marry them.

And spend the rest of their lives

wondering why they're so miserable.

That's what I call really cynical.

But you'll change your mind.

One day some pretty little thing will come along and then,

well, we'll see.

Are we playing chess tonight?

Most certainly.

I'll see you at the pub, around the same time.

Good, I look forward to it.

*

*

Darling, I'm back.

*

She'd come back to me, indeed.

With a vengeance.

She chattered endlessly all through dinner,

but I wasn't really listening.

I was realizing how perfectly she'd timed her arrival.

Once she had her foot in the door,

I knew I'd never be able to close it!

She was all charm and affection,

overflowing with solicitude.

Calmly taking my sympathy for granted.

Unhappily, it made me remember something I'd said

in the delirium of our early days.

That no matter what ultimately happened between us,

if she was ever in trouble, she was to count on my help.

I'm a man of my word,

and I couldn't bear the idea of going back on it.

Wasn't that a good dinner?

Delicious.

I can get the coffee, then we can have it in the living room.

We can leave the dishes till the morning.

You mean not wash them?

Well, we can wash them in the morning.

What's the difference?

Apparently none.

*

*

Did you think this was an ashtray, Helen?

No, of course not.

I just couldn't find one, so I used it.

Ash won't hurt it, darling.

There.

Have your coffee.

Thank you, no.

Arthur, what's the matter?

What are you looking at me like that for?

You've been doing it all through dinner.

What have I been doing all through dinner?

Well, looking at me as though,

uh, as though you're angry with me,

or as though you weren't really glad to see me.

Oh, but I am glad to see you.

Why shouldn't I be?

Oh.

You're thinking about that awful scene we had

the last time I was here, aren't you?

It has crossed my mind, yes.

Well, we were both upset.

We both said things we didn't really mean.

It'll be different.

You'll see.

I am seeing.

Does this mean that you've left your husband for good?

Oh, you were so right about him, Arthur.

He was a beast, more than you could know.

A wealthy beast, as I remember.

Money isn't everything.

Isn't it?

But that's not what you thought a year ago.

Well, I've learned a lot in a year.

So have I.

Principally, that I like my life the way it is now.

And I won't have any changes.

But I'm not going to change your life, darling.

Your just being here changes it.

Oh.

You're not going to send me away?

Where would I go?

What would I do?

I'm sorry, darling.

Oh, don't fuss.

It's only an old coffee pot.

Would you like a liqueur?

Oh, I'd love one.

You really haven't anyplace to go, have you, Helen?

Only here.

That means you haven't any money, either.

He didn't give me a penny.

But the courts--

Oh, no, I couldn't take him to court!

I mean, you can't fight a man as rich as that.

All those lawyers and things.

Oh, yes, I see.

So, if I threw you out, you'd be miserable.

I'd rather be dead.

A very wise decision, I think, my dear.

And the least I can do, for old times' sake...

is grant it.

*

(clucking)

*

*

John.

May I come in?

Oh, please do.

Anything wrong?

I'm afraid it is.

You mean this is an official visit?

Yes.

Nothing serious, I hope.

It's very serious.

Oh.

Well, you better come in.

If it's going to be serious,

we may as well make ourselves comfortable.

Please.

I'm here to ask if you know a woman called Helen Braithwaite.

Oh, but of course.

I was engaged to her once.

Uh, before she married Stanley Braithwaite.

When did you last see her?

Oh, about three weeks ago.

She arrived here one night unexpectedly.

Why, John, I believe you thought I was going to lie about it.

Well, she's been traced as far as your farm.

No one's seen or heard of her since.

Oh, I'm so glad.

You're glad?

Yes, she managed to get away from him after all.

Away from whom?

Well, her husband.

She'd left him and he wanted her back.

Apparently he was a dreadful man

and she'd rather do anything than that.

I see.

Exactly when did she come here?

Oh, about, um, three weeks ago, on a Thursday.

As a matter of fact, it was the night I had

to call off our chess game if you remember.

I remember, the 24th.

What happened?

Well, I--I don't mind telling you.

Uh, but, well, I wouldn't want it gossiped about,

I know I can rely on your discretion.

You see, she came expecting me to help her.

I saw no reason why I should.

When I refused, she became angry and left in a rage.

As a matter of fact, she left her suitcase behind.

It's still here.

I'm expecting her to send for it.

May I see it?

But of course.

Wouldn't you say it's a little strange for a woman

to leave without her suitcase

and her purse?

I'm a bachelor, Sergeant.

And I don't know how a woman is supposed to behave.

I think the simplicity of my story,

the seeming stupidity of it,

made him wonder if his first suspicions

weren't a trifle unjust.

Had I been a murderer, I would surely have tried

to dump the incriminating evidence in the river,

and thus join the large group of us

who have made that one mistake.

Things thrown into rivers have a way of floating up

at the most awkward moments.

And I knew that the suitcase, or anything else being here,

meant nothing, unless they also found Helen's body.

*

*

Oh, hello, John.

This is Inspector Ben Liebenberg of the CID.

Mr. Arthur Williams.

Good afternoon.

I'm sorry to trouble you.

That's quite all right.

Won't you come in?

Thank you.

Well, what can I do for you?

Well, Mr. Williams, we're still trying to find

this unfortunate young woman, Mrs. Braithwaite.

Oh, you mean there's still no trace of her?

Not since she left here.

What a nice little house you have here.

Yes, isn't it?

Would you care to look around?

Thank you, I would.

Follow me.

I started with the living room and dining room.

It was nice of the inspector

to take such an interest in my house

and I was only too glad to show him around.

He seemed to be most thorough in his appreciation.

And then we went into the kitchen.

I explained for the Inspector's benefit

that I disliked having servants around

and had made my house and farm as self-contained as possible.

After we'd gone all over I took them into the poultry house.

I explained to them the layout of the chickens.

The less they moved about, the heavier they would become

and the more marketable.

When I showed them the new barn,

again, they were fascinated by the obvious hiding place

my storage tanks provided.

But they said nothing.

*

Well, thank you very much, Mr. Williams.

It was a pleasure.

I'm very proud of my farm.

Yes, I can see that.

Well, we'll say goodbye now.

Goodbye.

Arthur.

Goodbye.

*

A week passed and they still hadn't returned.

But I was becoming irritated by the constant surveillance.

Particularly by Constable Barry.

They'd altered his beat, so that he was able to pass my gate

and keep an eye on everything which went on.

That was when I decided to bring things to a head.

And it seemed to me that the simplest way to do that

was to appear to make Crippen's mistake and run away.

I'd picked my hiding place very carefully.

I knew the police had searched the extensive caves

a few miles from my farm very thoroughly.

Chances were, I wouldn't be disturbed.

And I wasn't.

But at the end of three days,

I decided my purpose had been accomplished.

Besides, I'd run out of reading material,

and I was beginning to be bored by my cuisine,

which, while adequate,

was somewhat limited by my equipment.

*

Why, John, what a pleasant surprise.

Where have you been?

Oh, were you worried?

I'm so sorry.

It occurred to me that Mrs. Braithwaite

might have got lost somewhere in the caves,

so I went to look for her.

But you've been away for three days!

Yes, unfortunately, I got lost myself,

and it took me all this time to find my way out.

My, but you, uh, certainly have been busy.

Find anything?

You'd better go inside, the inspector will want to see you.

Oh, I shall be delighted to see him again.

You go ahead, I'll follow you.

*

It's not a very likely story, is it, Mr. Williams?

Likely or not, it's true.

Do you really expect us to believe such an obvious lie?

I expect you to be polite.

Considering the amount of damage

you've done to my property already,

it's the least you can do.

We were only doing our duty.

Really?

Well, the only justification you could have for doing it

is finding what you're looking for.

Mr. Williams, I want--

Sergeant, we found the body, sir.

Really?

How extraordinary.

Where was it?

Well, it was in the barn, sir.

It's all right, Constable.

You can go now.

Oh, I see.

It was a little trick.

I'm disappointed in you, Inspector.

I expected something less childish from you.

*

Of course, they never found Helen's body.

And as much as they might suspect she had been murdered,

they had no proof.

In spite of their thorough search, no body was found

and that, along with the fact

that there was no obvious motive on my part,

resulted in the cloud of suspicion gradually dispersing.

By Christmas even Sergeant Theron

became convinced of my innocence.

And to show there were no hard feelings,

I sent him a brace of cockerels as a Christmas present.

Well, that's all there is to tell.

Sergeant Theron enjoyed the cockerels very much indeed.

And I was pleased about that.

I'd raised those particular chickens

on a special new diet I'd taken great pains with.

The ingredients were varied and I'd processed them all myself,

using my new hammer-mill to grind everything very fine.

Sergeant Theron asked me to list the ingredients I used

so he could make a mixture for his own chickens.

I was glad to.

I listed them all.

All but one, that is.

I left out that one special ingredient that made it, really.

(machinery grinding)

*

There was a very sad end to our story.

Because of the excellent bone, meat,

and blood meal Mr. Williams kept supplying them,

his chickens grew to enormous size.

Then it happened.

One day, as he shouldered his way

through the hungry flock--

But it's too awful to describe.

Please rejoin me in a minute after I pull myself together.

I have abandoned the egg business.

Our model was successful in only one case.

One hen dutifully reproduced it perfectly.

But unfortunately, the uses of a plastic egg are rather limited.

It appears to be time to say goodnight.

Next week, we shall be back with another story.