All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S07E09.I.Spy.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

Good evening, patrons.
May I recommend the specialty
of the house?

It’s tipping.

It seems odd to me

that restaurant employees

are called waiters

when it’s the customers
who do most of the waiting.

But no matter.

Our story du jour
is called "I Spy"

and takes place
at an English seaside hotel.

But, before we serve it up,

you must, first,
wait just one minute.

[bell tolling]

"In re Captain Morgan’s
divorce,

fortunately, I have been able
to obtain the post of waiter

at the Queens Hotel, Brighton,
where Mrs. Morgan is employed
as a waitress.

This will give me plenty
of opportunity to observe
her actions."

Our man Frute
has tracked her down,
Captain Morgan.

Pretty distasteful.

Frute is a good man.
You can rely upon him.

He’s very discreet.

When I married,
all I asked was a little love,

little devotion.

I gave that woman
everything she asked.

And as a reward,
what do I get?

-[hesitates]
-Without a word of warning,
she vanished.

Not even a postcard to say
where she’d gone.

Is there anything wrong
with me?

Nothing, Captain Morgan.

Nothing at all.

I’ve lived a clean life.

Doctor checked me
when I decided to get married.

I’ve got money in the bank,
nice little house.

Feel as young as I look,
and look as young as I feel.

Yet she left me.

Why? Why?

Our Mr. Frute will give us
the answer, I’m sure.

[Captain Morgan]
Is all pretty sordid.

You mean her having taken
this position as a waitress?

No, no, no.
This divorce business.

Hiring a private detective
and all that.

Loathsome idea!

Now, now, come, come.

Don’t be depressed.
All we need is evidence.

Has love, do you think,

beckoned to Mrs. Morgan?
I mean...

since she parted
from your good self.

Well, if I knew that,
we shouldn’t have to hire
a detective, should we?

Oh, Mr. Frute...

They’ll be blaming
my lack of experience.

But you told them
when you arrived here,
Mr. Frute,

you’d been 15 years a waiter.

Oh, well. That was room-service
sort of thing, you know.

Setting breakfast trays
for two.

You would think by this time
I would’ve acquired the knack.

The breakages
come off the tips.

And yet, you, Mrs. Morgan,
you’ve been a waitress no time
at all.

Well, just this past year.

Yet the way you go around
laying tables and setting
about four trays at once.

I suppose you were just
born neat-handed.

It’s hard on the feet though.
All that standing.

Well, you’re right there.

[Mr. Frute]
Mrs. Morgan.

Yes?

Tomorrow, if I remember rightly,
it’s your afternoon off.

Well, now, so it is.

Are you doing anything
in particular?

No, Mr. Frute.

Not meeting Mr. Special
by any chance?

There’s no such individual.

Well, you know what they say,
"sometimes there’s safety
in numbers."

"Bees around the honey pot.
Hosts of admirers."

No one at all,
I’m afraid.

Well, as I was saying,
Gladys...

it isn’t often one feels
drawn to another human being.

And, once bitten, of course,
twice shy.

And in my case,
I was always shy,
even as a girl.

Gladys, look behind.
I think we’re being followed.

-Only a clergyman.
-Oh, that’s all right, then.

[Mrs. Morgan]
Gladys...

That clergyman.

I just remembered,
Jack the Ripper was said to have
disguised himself as one.

Take another peek, dear.

Is he still following us?

-No.
-That’s good.

There’s a shelter over there,
Gladys, let’s go sit down.

-My feet are killing me.
-That would be nice.

[loud thunder]

Ah...

Sometimes I think, Gladys,
Mr. Frute isn’t really
a waiter at all.

But, he’s just doing it
because...

well, because of some woman.

I can’t get it out of my head
that he may have been crossed,
poor chap.

Gladys, dear...

no offense at all, of course,
I’m glad of your company,

but you’re not a great one
for conversation, are you?

Oh, thank you.

[savoring]
Look how it’s coming down.

Quite torrential again.

Well, as I was saying, Gladys,
he’s a bit of a puzzle.

There’s something sad
about him, lonely-like.

I wonder what he’s doing
with his time off.

Hope he’s keeping dry,
poor fellow.

He’s got
such a sensitive look.

And he’s such a nice type.

Makes me want to look
after him.

He’s a very nice type.

Quite reliable too,
I’m sure.

[sneeze]

"I was able to overhear
scattered sentences,

which Mrs. Morgan addressed
to her friend, Gladys.

It appeared that Mrs. Morgan
was discussing men,

and one man in particular,

for whom she obviously feels
a decided affection."

Well, it looks uncommonly

as though we’ve struck oil,
Captain.

Oil?

There appears to be
another man.

This detective fellow seems
to know more about my private
life than I do myself.

That is the point of
a private detective, Captain.

By Jove.
He’s right.

There is another man.

That explains everything.

What?

Well, you just said yourself.

You couldn’t understand why
any woman should want
to leave me.

Now we know.

Know what?

This seducer.

This foreigner with his big car
and slick, black hair.

-You know who he is?
-Of course not.

Yes, well...

[Captain Morgan]
He’s the missing link.

You see..

she really loved me.

But he swept her off her feet.

She couldn’t help herself.

Frute’s report merely states

that a man is mentioned.

Oh, but she left me.

The inference is clear.

Well, I’m afraid not.

No, at the moment we have
no actual proof of any...

relationship.

Well, get it.

Tell your Mr. Frute
to press on.

[knock on door]

I brought you
a drop of whiskey.

This’ll loosen your throat.
Nothing else will.

Thank you, Mrs. Morgan.

Ought to take
more care of yourself,

getting soaked through
like that.

Now, put your feet back in.

Thank you.

We saw you the other evening,
Gladys and I.

Did you?

At the cinema.

We waved,
but you didn’t notice.

Enjoy your time off,
did you?

Not especially.

On the pier, were you?

Part of the time.

Ever such nasty weather,
wasn’t it?

And I expect that’s
how you caught your cold.

Here,
have a drop more whiskey.

Oh, no, thank you.
It’s just I have now,
thank you.

It was very warming though.

You’ve been very kind to me
all the time I’ve been
working here, Mrs. M.

Do you mind if I ask you
something?

Anything, Mr. Frute.

Why did you leave
your husband?

We just didn’t hit it off.

How did you two meet?

Well, I was selling cigarettes
on Paddington Station,

platform number nine.

And the Captain made
the journey regular.

I’d only known him two months
when he proposed.

"Marry me," he said.

"There’ll soon be a war.

And when I die under fire,

I want to know there’s
someone broken-hearted."

So, you thought
you’d better marry him?

Yes.

But it didn’t turn out
like that.

There wasn’t any war.

And they put him in charge
of the army post office.

At Pulborough.

At least a chance
for home life.

It wasn’t home life,
Mr. Frute.

Not as I understand it.

The Captain wanted me
to love him
for himself alone.

Which you found not possible?

He couldn’t bear the idea
of any rival.

He kept a revolver
by the bed.

The last bullet, he said,
was for me, in case
of the Russians.

No faith in the Navy, eh?

Once he ran out
of the bathroom with...

just a towel around him.

"Here’s the man," he cried,
"stripped of his regimentals.

Love me for what I am.

Do you, or don’t you?"

When he put it like that...

Nothing for it but the truth.

Yes. I had to tell him
I didn’t.

That made him suspicious.

"Another man," he said.

He put two bullets
in the revolver.

"One for you," he said,
"and the other for him,
whoever he may be."

And that’s when I left.

Supposing the captain
should get wind
of a certain gentleman?

What gentleman? Where?

Perhaps not a hundred miles
from where we are sitting.

Oh, Mr. Frute.

Wherever did you get
that idea?

A reliable source.

More reliable than I am?

I wouldn’t say more so.

Mrs. M, do you really mean
that since you left the captain,

there’s been nobody else?

[whispering] No.

[clicking tongue]

How about you, Mr. Frute?

Matrimony ever appealed?

It just passed me by.
It’s too late now.

Then we’re both in
the same boat.

How?

Both of us destined
to be single.

Well, I must get back.
I’ve got my table to lay.

Well, I’ll dry my feet off
and come and give you a hand.

Don’t you dream of it.
You’re not fit to work.

I can manage.

Wonderful.

The way you’ve taken to it.

Well, the fact is,
I’m relaxed.

I’m at ease.

You know, I’ve been thinking.

Tomorrow is once more
your afternoon off.

Thursday again already?

Does come around, doesn’t it?
So, I was wondering--

Yes?

Well, I thought, perhaps,
I might have the privilege.

If you put it like that,
Mr. Frute.

Oh, I don’t know. I thought
we might have a stroll
at the Royal Pavilion.

-Perhaps a visit to the cinema.
-Oh, I shall enjoy that.

Gentleman at 17.
Wants his order taken.

Don’t goggle at me.
Pull yourself together.

-We can’t talk here, sir.
-Oh, yes we can.

-Now behave
as if I’m ordering lunch.
-Yes, sir.

Cream of celery, sir?

In that last report of yours,

you referred to the defendant
as "beautiful."

Most unconventional.

Steamed curds...

Time is money. And you’re
wasting enough of both.

I expect results.

I expect tangible facts
to emerge.

Jam roll and coffee, sir?

Please understand.

Within a week...

I want a full report...

of her carryings on.

Otherwise...

you may consider yourself
off the case.

Now take my order.

Scotch broth...

fried plaice and chips.

[Mr. Frute] This used to be
the Royal dining room.

[Mrs. Morgan]
Fancy having to keep the meals
hot for all those people.

[Mr. Frute]
What a gaudy chandelier.

[Mrs. Morgan]
Oh, I wouldn’t like to have
to wash that down.

Well, Mrs. Morgan, I--

I hope that you’ll remember me
kindly when I move on.

You’re leaving us,
Mr. Frute?

There’s nothing wrong,
I hope.

Business. Purely business.

Oh, I am sorry.

I am too.

Waitering is only a sideline
for you, isn’t it, really?

That is so.

And you have
some other business?

You must be writing a book.
I’ve often heard you typing up
in your bedroom.

I’m afraid I don’t aspire
as high as that, Mrs. Morgan.

What exactly is
your other business?

Well... it’s a bit private.

Oh, I didn’t mean to butt in.

Oh, you know. Confidential.

Ah, the Secret Service.

I understand.

It’s a lovely ornament.

It’s on the large side,
but, very nice.

Really, the hotel won’t seem
the same without you,
Mr. Frute.

Won’t it, Mrs. M?

Before you came,
it wasn’t exactly
a homey place. But...

now, when I look around,
I see how it could be fixed.

It was just a dream of mine.

That hotel’s a bit of
a nightmare, if you ask me.

It was silly of me.

I... just don’t fit into
the pattern of family life.

Whatever do you mean?

-Well, you’d find it hard
to understand, but...
-Yes?

Well, what I’m trying to do,

I hope will...
leave you free for when...

When?

When the right man
comes along.

As he must.

After you’ve gone,

can I send you a postcard?

"A rough sea at Brighton"?

Oh, thank you. Yes,
I should like that.

To tell you the truth--

Yes, Mr. Frute?

Glad it was me you went out
with this afternoon.

I wouldn’t have liked it
to have been anyone else.

Not today.

Well, I suppose we better
be going, or we’ll be late
for the cinema.

Do you like films about love,
Mr. Frute?

Frankly, I...

prefer detection.

Till now.

Of mystery, you mean?

One could call it that, yeah.

Well, we better be going,
or...

we’ll miss the trailers.

Do you suppose the prince
ever ate his dinner here alone?

Not if the princess had
to walk all that way
with the plates on her arm.

[Mrs. Morgan laughing]

We’ve had a nice time.

I don’t think the honeymoon
couple staying here
could have had a nicer.

There’s something
about a honeymoon.

I suppose there is.

The day will come, Mrs. M.

I’m not very hopeful.

You never know.

I’d need a divorce first,
and I don’t know how
to get it.

Love will conquer
every obstacle.

Sometimes when you talk...

it’s like real poetry.

Goodnight.

And, once more, thank you.

Thank you.

Goodnight, then.

You know,
what you said about...

love and conquering
the obstacles.

Well, I mean you--

-you want to take courage
in both hands.
-[shushing]

Gladys’ room.

Yes, but I mean.

You know,
if you feel you’re in the--

in the group of forces
that are sweeping you away,
you--

you don’t want
to resist them.

You don’t want to try
to resist them.

Oh, Mr. Frute.

[lawyer]
"Mrs. Morgan smartly
turned out in a blue dress

of some silk material

with white handbag,
and accessories,

was first seen with
her ’gentleman friend’
at the Royal Pavilion.

Later they repaired
to the cinema,

where they watched
a film entitled
Lovers and Strangers."

-Disgusting.
-Huh?

"And the evening terminated
with the gentleman
in question,

a distinguished-looking,
middle-age man
of professional appearance,

escorting Mrs. Morgan back
to the hotel and upstairs
to her room.

They would seem to kiss."

He didn’t emerge
from the hotel until
the following morning."

Well, there’s your case,
Captain Morgan.

By Jove. I’d like to get
my hands on the bounder.

It’s irrefutable evidence.

If you want your divorce,

all we have to do is
to prepare the petition.

Name of Morgan?

Yes?

This is for you.

Oh, thank you.

-Good morning.
-Good morning.

What’s this?

A circular or something?

It’s a petition for divorce.

"On Thursday,
the 12th of September,

At the Queen’s Hotel Brighton,
with a man whose name
and identity are unknown.

She did..."

I don’t understand. Unknown?

What unknown?
What does it mean?

I feel ashamed.

Very ashamed.

Mr. Frute...

what was that other business
you said you did?

I’m a private detective.

So, you’re responsible
for me getting this?

I was employed by your husband
to keep an eye on you.

But you know it isn’t true.
You were there all the time.

I’m afraid I based my report
to the lawyer

on our little trip out
the other afternoon.

And I took some liberties
with the truth. It was--

Was what?

Well, it was wishful thinking.

Oh,
I shouldn’t have done it up.
I’ll say it’s a lie.

You’ve been so good to me,
Mrs. Morgan, I’ll put it right,
I promise you.

Suppose you don’t deny it.

But I must.

The captain would divorce me,
and I’d be free again.
Wouldn’t I?

I expect so.

To marry again.

If you wanted to.

I do want to.

Any...

particular gentleman?

You Mr. Frute.

Well, I...

don’t know what to say.

Well, now...

I’ve got a little bit
of money put aside.

We could put that down
on a house.

Well, I mean,
I’ve got a little tucked away
under the mattress, if you--

if you really think you could
face the rest
of your life as...

Mrs. Frute.

Oh, I’d love to.

* Let them think
the worst of me *

* Let the captain divorce me *

[Mr. Frute]
Oh, I will. I will.

[laughing]
You really are the most
remarkable woman.

I’ve loved you from the very
first time I was put
on this case.

I’ll change my profession.

Oh, no. Don’t do that,
Mr. Frute, why?

The name is Henry, my love.
Well, to a lady like yourself,
it would...

be distasteful.

Oh, no distasteful at all,
my dear.

It seems a very
useful profession.

Well, I must admit,
another pair of eyes
would be a great help.

I’d be proud to help, Henry.

I think that illustrates
that all things come
to him who waits.

And polishing silver
doesn’t hurt either.

And now,
here’s the commercial

that comes with this story.

Sorry,
we don’t allow substitutions.

That last certainly makes one
long for a la carte television.

Next week I should return
with a different story,

and, unless I am
more diplomatic,

a different sponsor.

Until then, goodnight.