Original subtitles

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.