All language subtitles for dial.m.for.murder.(1954).eng.1cd.(207549)_1

Let me get you another drink.

Mark, before Tony comes,
I ought to explain something.

Yes, I've been waiting for that.

I haven't told him anything about us.

That's not surprising.
It's a tough thing to do.

When you telephoned this morning,
I simply said you wrote crime stories.

And I'd met you once
when you were here before.

That has a pretty guilty ring to it.
I'd never use it in one of my stories.

Mark, I know you think it's silly.

When you get to know Tony,
you'll understand why I said that.

Darling, I understand now.
That doesn't stop me from loving you.

It's not as simple as that.

-Tony's changed.
-Thanks.

He's a completely different person
to the one I used to tell you about.

Really? When did all this happen?

That night I came to say goodbye.

When I left your apartment,
I came back here.

I sat down on the sofa
and had a good cry.

And then I fell asleep.

When I woke up...

...there was Tony standing in the hall
with his bags and tennis rackets.

He just said he decided to give up tennis
and settle down to a job.

-Just like that?
-Just like that.

Of course, I didn't believe him at first,
but he meant it, all right.

But he's been wonderful ever since.

I suppose that's when
you stopped writing me.

Margot, is it?

Do you remember the letters
you wrote to me?

Yes, I remember.

After I read them, I burned them.
I thought it best.

All except one.

You probably know
the one I mean.

Yes, I think I do.

What about it?

It was stolen.

Tony and I were going to spend
the weekend in the country with friends.

While waiting on the platform,
I noticed my handbag was missing.

And the letter was inside.

-Where was this?
-Victoria Station.

I thought I'd left it in the restaurant,
but when I went back, it had gone.

You mean you never found it?

I recovered the handbag
about two weeks later...

...from the lost and found,
but the letter wasn't there.

Then about a week afterwards,
I received a note.

It told me what I had to do
to get the letter back.

Yes. Go ahead.
Go on.

I was to draw �50
from my bank in �5 notes...

...and then change them
for used �1 notes.

It said that if I went to the police
or told anyone else...

...he would show the letter
to my husband.

You still have the note?

Printed, all capitals.

-Anyone could've done this.
-Two days later...

-...I got this one.
-Both mailed in Brixton.

"Throw half the money in a package
and mail to John S. King.

23 Newport Street,
Brixton SW9.

You'll get your letter by return."

It's a little shop.
People use it as a forwarding address.

You didn't mail the money.

Yes, but the letter was never returned.

So after waiting about
two weeks, I went there.

Said they had never heard
of a man by that name.

The parcel was still there.
It had never been opened.

That's something, I suppose.
May I keep these?

-Yes, if you like.
-I can't understand why you didn't tell me.

There wasn't anything
you could do.

You probably would have
made me tell Tony and the police.

It was only �50, I thought
I'd pay and have done with it.

I'm gonna tell Tony
about us tonight.

No, Mark, please,
you mustn't.

You don't understand.
Tony's changed.

Please.

I wish it was a year ago,
when you came to say goodbye.

We were in the kitchen. I said,
"l can't go through with this.

Let's find Tony and
tell him all about it."

I believe you'd
have done it then.

Well, I can see this is
gonna be a rough evening.

All of us saying
nice things to each other.

Look, there's only one thing
you haven't explained.

Why didn't you burn
that letter too?

There you are. We thought
you were never coming.

-What have you been up to?
-I'm sorry. The boss blew in...

-...just as I was leaving.
-Tony, this is Mark Halliday.

-Mark.
-Tony.

I'm terribly sorry
to be so late.

-How do you like it over here, Mark?
-Well, fine. Just fine, Tony.

Is this your first visit to London?

No, no. I was here
a year ago for vacation.

Oh, yes, that's right.
Margot told me.

-You write for the radio, don't you?
-No, television, for my sins.

-Darling, did you reserve a table?
-Yes, 7:00.

-Come on, then--
-Darling, a slight alteration in plans.

-Now, don't say you can't go.
-I'm afraid so.

Old man Burgess is flying
to Brussels on Sunday.

And I have to get my monthly
report in by tomorrow.

Can't you do it when
we get back?

I'm afraid not.
It'll take hours.

I shall have to fake
half of it as it is.

Could you join us after the theater?
We might go somewhere.

Give me a ring in intermission.

-lf I'm inspired, I might make it.
-Well, do try.

I'll just get my things, Mark.

-Here are the tickets.
-Thanks, Tony.

I'm afraid this is
terribly rude of me.

Not at all. I'm just sorry
you can't come.

-You must come to dinner.
-I'd like that.

What are you doing tomorrow night?

Saturday?
Nothing I know of.

Would you like to
join a stag party?

-A stag party?
-Yes.

Some Americans have been playing
tennis all over the continent.

We're giving them
a farewell dinner.

-I'm not much of a tennis player.
-Doesn't matter.

You know New York and all that.

-Mark's coming to the party tomorrow night.
-Good.

You better drop in here first
and have a drink.

-That's the idea.
-Yes. All right.

-I'll try and get a taxi.
-No, we can usually pick one up.

So long, darling.

Enjoy yourself.

-So long, Tony.
-Good night.

-Oh, Mark.
-Yes?

Sell the extra ticket
and have a drink on the proceeds.

-All right. We'll try.
-Have a good time.

Thanks. Good night.

-Hello.
-Hello. Hampstead 78-double-9?

-Yes.
-Could I speak to Captain Lesgate?

-Speaking.
-Good evening.

You don't know me.
My name is Fisher.

I understand you have
a car for sale.

- Yes, an American car.
-Yes, I saw it at your garage.

-How much are you asking?
-Eleven hundred.

Eleven hundred? I see. It certainly looks
just the job for me.

I don't like that price much.

I didn 't like it when I bought it.

-Now, when can we meet?
-Well, now, how about tomorrow afternoon?

I'm afraid I can't manage that.

No, I can't, and I'm going
to Liverpool on Sunday.

I was rather hoping--

-You couldn't come to my flat tonight?
-Where is it?

Maida Vale. I'd call on you,
only I've twisted my knee rather badly.

I'm sorry. Well, what's your address?

-61 A Charrington Gardens.
-Harrington?

No. Charrington.
Turn left at the underground.

-It's a two minutes' walk.
-I'll be there in an hour.

That's extremely good of you.
By the way, will you bring the car?

-I'm afraid I can 't.
-Doesn't matter. I had a good look at it.

You might bring the registration book
and any necessary papers.

- Yes, of course.
-We can settle this...

...here and now, provided you
drop the price sufficiently.

I'm afraid that's out of the question.

Well, we'll see what
a couple of drinks can do.

-Well, goodbye.
-Goodbye.

-Mr. Fisher?
-Captain Lesgate?

-Yes.
-Won't you come in?

Thank you.

It's very good of you.

Let me have your coat.

-Have any difficulty finding your way?
-No. None at all.

Do sit down. How about a drink?

I can't help thinking I've seen you
before somewhere.

It's funny you should mention that.

The moment I opened
the door, l--

Wait a minute. Lesgate?

You're not Lesgate.
Swan. C.J. Swan.

-Or was it C.A.?
-C.A.

Well, you've got a better
memory than I have.

Fisher.
When did we meet?

-Weren't you at Cambridge?
-Yes.

Must be 20 years ago.

You wouldn't remember me.
I only came your last year.

-Well, what a coincidence.
-Yes, this calls for a special drink.

I was planning to palm you off
with an indifferent port.

But let's see what we have here.

-How about this?
-Perfect.

So how do you know
my car's for sale?

Your garage told me.

Odd. I don't think
I mentioned it to them.

I got a fill-up and told them
I wanted an American car.

They gave me your phone number.
I say, it is for sale, isn't it?

-Of course.
-Good, but I refuse to discuss the price...

-...until you've had three brandies.
-I warn you...

-...I drive a hard bargain, drunk or sober.
-So do l.

I think I must have seen you
somewhere since we left Cambridge.

Ever been to Wimbledon?

That's it.
Wendice. Tony Wendice.

-What's all this about Fisher?
-What's all this about Lesgate?

Would you like a cigar?

No, thanks. I'll just stick to my pipe.

That's one habit you've changed.

I remember, at college, you always used to
smoke rather expensive cigars.

Wait a minute, I think I have
a picture of you here somewhere.

Yes.

Yes. Here's one.

Taken at a reunion dinner.

There you are with the biggest cigar
in the business.

That's the first and last
reunion I ever went to.

-What a murderous thug I look.
-Yes, you do rather.

Of course, I always remember you
because of the college ball.

You were the treasurer, weren't you?

Honorary treasurer.
I used to organize the beastly things.

Some of the ticket money
was stolen, wasn't it?

That's right. Almost �1 00.

I'd left it in a cashbox in my study,
and in the morning, it had gone.

-lt was the college porter, of course.
-Yes. Poor old Alfred.

He never could back a winner.

-They found the cashbox in his back garden.
-But not the money.

-Twenty years ago.
-What are you doing nowadays?

I deal in property.
I don't follow tennis very closely.

-Do you still play?
-No, I've given it up.

Rather, tennis gave me up.
One has to earn a living sometime.

And I had a pretty good run for my money.
Went round the world three times.

-What are you doing now?
-I sell sports equipment.

It's not very lucrative,
but it gives me plenty of spare time.

I see you manage to run
a very comfortable little place.

My wife has some money of her own.

Otherwise, I should hardly feel
like blowing �1 000 on your car.

Eleven hundred.

People with capital don't realize
how lucky they are.

I'm almost resigned to
living on what I can earn.

You can always marry for money.

Yes, I suppose some people
make a business out of that.

-I know I did.
-Why do you think she married you?

Well, I was a tennis star.

Yes, but you've given up tennis.
She hasn't left you.

She nearly did.

After we were married,
I played in championships...

...and took Margot with me.

She didn't like it,
and when we got back...

...she tried to make me give up tennis
and play husband instead.

In the end, we compromised.

I went alone to America
for the grass-court season...

...and returned after
the national championships.

I soon realized a lot had happened
while I was away.

For one thing, she wasn't in love
with me anymore.

There were phone calls which would
end abruptly if I happened to walk in.

There was an old school friend
who used to visit from time to time.

One day, we had a row.

I wanted to play in a
covered-court tournament...

...and, as usual,
she didn't want me to go.

I was in the bedroom. The phone rang.

It all sounded pretty urgent.

After that, she seemed rather keen
that I play in the tournament.

So I packed my kit into
the car and drove off.

I parked the car two streets away,
walked back in my tracks.

Ten minutes later, she came out
of this house and took a taxi.

I took another.

Her old school friend
lived in a studio in Chelsea.

I could see them through the studio window
as he cooked spaghetti over a gas range.

They didn't say much.
They just looked very natural together.

You know, it's funny how you
can tell when people are in love.

I went for a walk.

I began to wonder what would happen
if she left me.

I'd have to find some way
of earning a living, to begin with.

I suddenly realized how much
I'd grown to depend on her.

All these expensive tastes
I'd acquired while I was at the top.

Now, big tennis
had finished with me...

...and so, apparently,
had my wife.

I can't ever remember
being so scared.

I dropped into a pub
and had a couple of drinks.

As I sat in the corner,
I thought of all sorts of things.

I thought of three different
ways of killing him.

I even thought of killing her.

That seemed a far more sensible idea.

And just as I was working out
how I could do it...

...I suddenly saw something
which completely changed my mind.

I didn't go to that tournament
after all.

When I got back, she was sitting
exactly where you are now.

I'd told her I decided to give up tennis
and look after her instead.

-Well?
-Well, as things turned out...

...I needn't have got
so worked up after all.

Apparently, their spaghetti evening
had been a sort of a fond farewell.

The boyfriend had been
called back to New York.

-An American?
-Yes.

There were long letters from there.

They usually arrived on Thursdays.

She burned them all except one.

That one she used to transfer
from handbag to handbag.

It was always with her.

That letter became
an obsession with me.

I had to find out what was in it.

Finally, I did.

That letter made very interesting reading.

-Do you mean you stole it?
-Yes.

I even wrote her two anonymous notes
offering to sell it back.

-Why?
-I was hoping it would make her...

...come and tell me all about him.

But it didn't,
so I kept the letter.

Why are you telling me all this?

Because you're the only
person I can trust.

Anyway, that did it.

It must have put the fear of God
into them because the letters stopped.

And we lived happily ever after.

You know, it's funny to think
that just a year ago...

...I sat in that nice bridge pub
actually planning to murder her.

And I might have done it...

...if I hadn't seen something
that changed my mind.

Well, what did you see?

I saw you.

What was so odd about that?

The coincidence.

Only a week before,
I'd been to a reunion dinner.

And the fellows
were talking about you.

How you had been court-martialed
during the war.

A year in prison.
That was news.

Mind you, at college, we'd all said
that Swan would end up in jail.

-That cashbox, I suppose.
-Well, what about it?

My dear fellow, everybody knew
you took that money.

Poor old Alfred.

Thanks very much for the drink.

Interesting, hearing about your
matrimonial affairs.

I take it you won't be
wanting that car after all.

Don't you want me to tell you
why I brought you here?

Yes, I think you'd better.

It was when I saw you in that pub
that it happened.

Suddenly, everything became quite clear.

A few months before,
Margot and I had made our wills.

Short affairs, leaving everything we had
to each other, in case of accidents.

Hers worked out at just over �90,000.

Investments mostly,
all a little too easy to get at.

And that was dangerous.
They would be bound to suspect me.

I need an alibi, a very good one.

Then I saw you.

I'd wondered what happened
to people who came out of prison.

People like you, I mean.

Can they get jobs?
Do old friends rally round?

Suppose they never had any friends.

I became so curious to know
that I followed you.

I followed you home that night and--

Would you mind passing me
your glass, old boy?

Thank you.
Thank you very much.

-I've been following you ever since.
-Why?

I was hoping sooner or later
I might catch you at something...

-...and be able to--
-Blackmail me?

Influence you.

After a couple of weeks,
I got to know your routine...

-...and that made it a lot easier.
-Rather dour work.

To begin with, yes.

But you know how it is.
You take up a hobby.

And the more you get to know it,
the more fascinating it becomes.

You became quite fascinating.

In fact, there were times when
I'd felt that you almost belonged to me.

That must have been interesting.

You used to go to the dog-racing,
Mondays and Thursdays.

I even took it up myself,
just to be near you.

-You'd changed your name to Adams.
-Yes. I got bored with Swan.

-Any crime in that?
-No. No. None whatever.

In fact, there was nothing
really illegal about you.

I got quite discouraged.

Then one day, you disappeared
from your lodgings.

I phoned your landlady.
I said, "Mr. Adams owed me �5."

But apparently that was nothing.

Mr. Adams owed her six weeks' rent
in her best lodge at �55.

Mr. Adams had been
such a nice gentleman.

That's what seemed
to upset her most.

Yes. That always seems
to upset them most.

I say, old boy,
if you want another drink...

...do you mind putting on these gloves?

Now, where were we?
Yes, I'd lost you...

...and then I found you
one day at the dog-racing.

And I tailed you home to your
new lodgings in Belsize Park.

There Mr. Adams became Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson left Belsize Park
owing 1 6 weeks' rent...

...and somewhat richer for a
brief encounter with a Miss Wallace.

You used to take Miss Wallace out
on Wednesdays and Sundays.

She certainly was in love
with you, wasn't she?

I suppose she thought you were growing
that handsome mustache to please her.

Poor Miss Wallace.

This is all very interesting.
Do go on.

July, August, September:
Apartment 1 27, Carlisle Court.

Occupant: a Mrs. Van Dorn.

Her late husband left her two hotels
and a large apartment house, furnished.

What a base to operate from,
Captain Lesgate.

The only trouble is, she does
rather enjoy being courted.

And she's so very expensive.

Perhaps that's why you've been trying
to sell her car for over a month.

Mrs. Van Dorn asked me
to sell it for her.

I know. I called her up
just before you arrived here.

She only wanted 800.

Where's the nearest police station?

Opposite the church.
Two minutes' walk.

-Suppose I walk there now.
-What would you tell them?

-Everything.
-Everything?

All about Mr. Adams
and Mr. Wilson?

I should simply tell them that you
are trying to blackmail me into--

Into?

Murdering your wife.

I almost wish you would.

When she heard that,
we'd have the laugh of our lives.

-Aren't you forgetting something?
-Am l?

You've told me quite a lot tonight.

-What of it?
-Suppose I tell them...

...how you followed her
to that studio in Chelsea...

...and watched them cooking
spaghetti and all that rubbish.

-Will that ring a bell?
-lt would.

They'd assume you'd followed her.

-Me? Why should l?
-Why should you steal her handbag?

Why should you write
those blackmail notes?

Can you prove you didn't?

You certainly can't prove I did.

It'll be a straight case
of your word against mine.

That would puzzle them, wouldn't it.
What could you say?

I should say that you came here tonight
half-drunk and tried to borrow money...

...on the strength that we
were at college together.

When I refused, you said something
about a letter belonging to my wife.

As far as I could make out,
you tried to sell it to me.

I gave you what money I had,
and you gave me the letter.

It has your fingerprints on it, remember?

Then you said if I went to the police...

...you'd tell some crazy story about
my wanting you to murder my wife.

Before you go any further, old boy,
do consider the inconvenience.

You see, I'm quite well-known.

There'd be pictures of you, as well.

And sooner or later, there'd be
a deputation of landladies and lodgers...

...who would step forward to testify
to your character.

And someone is almost certain
to have seen you with Miss Wallace.

You were careful not to be seen
around with her, I noticed.

You usually met
in out-of-the-way places...

...where you wouldn't be recognized.

Like the little teashop in Pimlico.

That was her idea, not mine.

Yes, it was a bit crummy, wasn't it?

Hardly the place to take Mrs. Van Dorn.

By the way, does Mrs. Van Dorn
know about Mr. Adams...

...and Mr. Wilson and Miss Wallace?

You were planning to marry
Mrs. Van Dorn, weren't you?

-Smart, aren't you?
-No, not really.

I've just had time
to think things out...

...put myself in your position.

That's why I know you're going to agree.

-What makes you think I'll agree?
-The same reason...

...a donkey with a stick behind him
and a carrot in front...

...always goes forwards, not backwards.

Tell me about the carrot.

One thousand pounds in cash.

-For a murder?
-For a few minutes' work, that's all it is.

And no risk, I guarantee.

That ought to appeal to you.

You've been skating on pretty thin ice.

-I don't know what you're talking about.
-You ought to know.

It was in the papers,
"Middle-aged woman...

...found dead due to
an overdose of something."

She'd been taking the stuff
for some time...

...and nobody knows where she got it.

But we know, don't we?

Poor Miss Wallace.

This �1 000...

...where is it?

It's in a small attach� case
in a checkroom.

-Where?
-Somewhere in London.

Of course, we don't meet again.

As soon as you've delivered the goods...

...I shall mail you the checkroom ticket
and the key to the case.

You take this �1 00 on account.

The police would
only have to trace one of these notes...

...back to you to hang us both
from the same rope.

They won't. For a whole year,
I've been cashing an extra �20 a week.

Always in fivers.

I then change them for those
at my leisure.

-Might I see your bank statement?
-By all means.

Don't touch.

Turn back a page.

Your balance has dropped
by over �1 000 during the year.

Suppose the police
ask you about that.

I go dog-racing twice a week.

They'll check your bookmaker.

Like you, I always bet on the tout.

Satisfied?

When would this take place?

Tomorrow night.

Tomorrow! Not a chance!

I've got to think this over.

It has to be tomorrow.

I've arranged things that way.

Where?

Approximately where you're standing now.

-How?
-Tomorrow evening, Halliday...

...the American boyfriend,
and I will go out to a stag party.

She'll stay here.

She'll go to bed early and
listen to theater on the radio.

She always does when I'm out.

At exactly three minutes to 1 1, you'll
enter the house through the street door.

You'll find the key to this door...

...under the stair carpet here.

-The fifth step.
-That's the one.

Go straight to the window...

...and hide behind the curtains.

At exactly 1 1 :00, I'll go
to the telephone in the hotel...

...to call my boss.

I shall dial the wrong number,
this number.

That's all I shall do.

When the phone rings, you'll see the light
go on under her bedroom door.

When she opens it, the light
will stream across the room.

So don't move until
she answers the phone.

There must be as little noise as possible.

After you've finished...

...pick up the phone and give me
a soft whistle and hang up.

Don't speak, whatever you do.
I shan't say a word.

When I hear your whistle,
I shall hang up and redial...

...the correct number this time.

I shall then talk to my boss as if nothing
had happened and return to the party.

What happens next? Go on.

You'll see the suitcase here.

It contains clothes of mine
for the cleaners.

Open it and tip the clothes
out onto the floor.

Then fill it with a cigarette box
and some of these cups.

Close the lid,
but don't snap the locks.

Then leave the suitcase there,
just as it is now.

As if I'd left in a hurry.

That's the idea.
Now, the window....

If it's locked, unlock it
and leave it open.

Then go out exactly
the same way you came in.

-By this door?
-Yes.

And here's the most important thing.

As you go out, return the key
to the place where you found it.

-Under the stair carpet?
-Yes.

Yes, but what exactly is supposed
to have happened?

Well, they'll assume you came in
by the window.

You thought the apartment was empty,
so you took the suitcase and went to work.

She heard something.

She switched on her light.

You saw the light under the door
and hid behind the curtains.

When she came in here, you attacked her
before she could scream.

When you realized you'd
actually killed her...

...you panicked, bolted through
the garden and left the loot behind.

Just a minute.

I'm supposed to have come in
through these windows.

-Suppose they'd been locked.
-lt wouldn't matter.

She often walks around the garden
before she goes to bed.

And she usually forgets to lock up
when she gets back.

That's what I shall tell the police.

Yes, but she may say--

But she isn't going to say anything.
Is she?

All right.

I leave the apartment.

I put the key back under the stair carpet
and go out by the street door.

Suppose the street door's locked.

-How do I get in in the first place?
-The street door is never locked.

-What time will you get back?
-About 1 2.

I'll bring Halliday back for a nightcap.
We'll find her together...

...and we shall have been together
since we left her.

And there's my alibi.

-You've forgotten something.
-What?

When you get back
with what's-his-name, Halliday...

-...how will you get in the apartment?
-I shall let myself in.

But your key will be under the stair carpet.

He'll see you get it.
It'll give the show away.

No. It won't be my key
under the carpet.

It will be hers.

I shall take it from her handbag
and hide it out there...

...just before I leave the flat.

She's not going out,
so she won't miss it.

When I come back with Halliday,
I'll use my own key to let us in.

Then, while he's out searching
the garden or something...

...I'll take the key from under the carpet
and return it to her bag...

-...before the police arrive.
-How many keys are there to this door?

Just hers and mine.

-Mavel Z4-double-9.
-Tony, it's me.

Hello, darling. How's it going?

Wonderfully. It's really a dreadful play.

We're enjoying every minute.

I'm sorry. I mean, I'm glad.

- You will join us, won 't you?
-I don ' t think so.

I hardly seem to have started.

Darling, just a moment.
I think there's someone at the door.

You can be seen
from the bedroom window.

Sorry, darling. False alarm.

Look, why don't you
take Mark to Gerry's.

-How do we get in?
-Well, just mention my name.

I don't know about the band,
but the food's good.

By the way,
Maureen called after you left...

...and wants us
for dinner on Wednesday.

You've got something in your diary
for Wednesday, and I can't read it.

Looks like "Al Bentall."

Who's he,
another one of your boyfriends?

Albert Hall, you idiot.

The Albert Hall, of course.

I'm so glad we don't have
to go to Maureen's.

-She's such a filthy cook.
-Well, there's the bell. I must fly.

All right, dear.
Enjoy yourself.

Tony, don't make
that martini too watery.

Now, where's the picture
of the maharajah?

When are you going to finish
pasting in those clippings?

I shall find time one of these days.

Here it is.
This is the maharajah.

-lsn't he dreamy?
-He had four Rolls-Royces and jewels...

...to sink a battleship, but all he wanted
was to play at Wimbledon.

The poor darling was so shortsighted,
he could barely see the end of the racket...

-...Iet alone the ball.
-You should--

Thanks, Tony.

You should write a book about all this.

Why don't you two collaborate,
a detective novel with a tennis background.

What about it, Mark?
You provide me...

-...with the perfect murder.
-Nothing I'd like better.

How do you go about
writing a detective story?

You forget detection and concentrate
on crime. Crime's the thing.

You imagine you're gonna
steal something or murder somebody.

Is that how you do it?
Interesting.

I usually put myself in the criminal's shoes
and I keep asking myself:

"What do I do next? "

Do you really believe
in the perfect murder?

Yes, absolutely.
On paper, that is.

I think I could plan one
better than most people...

...but I doubt I could carry it out.

Oh? Why not?

In stories, things turn out
the way the author wants.

And in real life,
they don't always.

No. I'm afraid my murders
would be like my bridge:

I'd make a mistake
and never realize it...

-...till I find everybody looking at me.
-Drink up, Mark.

-Yes.
-What are you doing tomorrow?

-Nothing.
-Why don't we drive...

-...to Windsor for lunch.
-That's a good idea.

Come along early, but not too early.

-We may be nursing a hangover.
-How about 1 1?

-Fine.
-We can have lunch at the Kings Head.

-ls that right in Windsor?
-No, it's just outside.

Did I lend you my latchkey?
I can't seem to find it anywhere.

I don't know. I may have them
both in my handbag.

I'll just look.

-No. I've only got one here.
-Are you sure yours isn't in your overcoat?

No, I've looked.
May I borrow yours?

-Well, that's a bit awkward.
-Why?

I may want to go out.

Tonight?

Yes, I thought I might go
to a movie.

What about the radio?
Saturday Night Theatre?

Oh, no. It's a thriller.
I don't like thrillers when I'm alone.

-I see.
-ln any case, I'll be back...

...before you, so I can let you in.

But we won't be back until after midnight.
You may be asleep by then.

You can always put your key
under the proverbial mat.

It's all right. Here it is.
It was in my glove all the time.

Well, that settles that.

What movie are you going to?

The classic, I expect.

-Will you get in? Saturday night?
-I can always try.

-But, darling--
-Now, don't make me stay home.

You know I hate doing nothing.

Doing nothing? There are
hundreds of things to do.

Write Peggy, thanking her
for the weekend.

And what about those clippings?
It's an ideal opportunity.

Well, I like that.
You two go gallivanting...

...while I stay home and do
those boring clippings.

-Very well. We won't go.
-What do you mean?

It's obvious you don't want us
to go, so we won't.

We'll stay here with you.

What shall we do, play cards?

Tony, darling....

I'll call the Grendon and tell them
we're not coming.

Tony, please, let's not
be childish about this.

All right, I'll do your
old press clippings.

You don't have to if you
don't want to, you know.

But I do want to.

I think I'll try and scare up a taxi.

Have we any paste?

Yes, there's some in the desk,
I believe.

-You need some scissors.
-They're in my mending basket.

Lend me some change.
I need some money for the taxi.

Hey, you leave
my bag alone.

-How much do you need?
-Let's see how much you've got.

-You put that down.
-You owe me 1 0 bob anyway.

-Why?
-I paid that package...

...you sent Peggy.
That comes out of housekeeping.

Let me get it, then.
Keep your hands off.

There, now.
How much do you want?

I've got 3, 5, 7 and a sixpence.

-lt ought to get us there and back.
-But you'd better take something.

-How much are dinner tickets?
-Paid for, tip included.

If I run short,
Mark will help out.

Taxi's here.

Tony, what are you waiting for?

-Nothing, dear.
-Good night, Margot.

What time will you get home?

About 1 2. I'll bring Mark back
for a nightcap.

-Will you be up?
-I shall be fast asleep...

-...and I don't want to be disturbed.
-We shall be quiet.

-Good night.
-Good night.

-Margot.
-Yes.

You know it's possible
old man Burgess might call.

Tell him we're at the Grendon.
It may be important.

-What's the number?
-It's in the book.

All right.

Goodbye, dear.

All right, Mark.

I'm staying at the Torbay Hotel.
You know the hotel in Dartmoor?

Well, it's not exactly in Dartmoor,
but sort of in the district.

Anyway, the whole point of this story
is that it concerns Dartmoor Prison.

I was staying at the Torbay Hotel,
as I was saying, I went to the bar....

I turned to him and said,
"What are you doing here? "

He says, " I'm a commercial traveler.
I sell agricultural machinery." I said--

Would any of you fellows
have the right time?

Yes, I have seven minutes past 1 1.

-I make it only just after 1 1.
-My watch has stopped.

-I must have overwound it.
-As I was saying--

Excuse me, old boy.
I have to call my boss.

Agricultural machinery....

Hello.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Get the police.
Quickly. Police.

-Margot?
-Who 's there?

Darling, it's me.

Oh, Tony.
Tony, thank God.

Come back at once.

-What's the matter?
-I can 't explain now.

-Come quickly, please.
-Darling, pull yourself together.

-What is it?
-A man attacked me.

-Tried to strangle me.
-Did he get away?

No. He's dead.

T ony, are you still there?

-Margot.
- Yes?

Now, listen very carefully.

Yes. I'm listening.

Don't touch anything.
I'll be with you right away.

-No. No, I won't.
-Don 't touch anything...

...and don 't speak to anybody
until I get there.

No, I won't touch anything.

-You promise?
-Yes, I promise.

Tony, please be quick.

I'm sitting at the same bar, and I see
the same man standing at the end of the--

He came to me and said--

No, do sit down.
I have to run along.

Margot's not feeling too well.

-Serious?
-Nothing serious.

-You stay and enjoy yourself.
-I'll come.

No. It's perfectly all right.

--with which he was buying me
dry martinis....

Tony!
Oh, Tony.

It's all right, darling.
It's all right. What happened?

He put something around my throat.

-lt felt like a stocking.
-Are you sure? Let me see.

I got up to answer the phone,
and he came from behind the curtain...

...and tried to strangle me.

I almost passed out.

I felt the scissors in my hands...

...and then he let go suddenly,
and he fell on the floor.

There's hardly any blood.

When he fell,
he must have--

-What are you doing?
-I'm trying to find my--

Here they are, my aspirin.

I've got such an awful head--

What is it?

I'd better get a blanket.

Shut the window, please.

No. We mustn't touch anything
until the police arrive.

He must've broken in.
I wonder what he was after.

-Those cups, I expect.
-When will the police get here?

-Have you called them already?
-No.

You told me not to speak to anyone.

Hadn't you better
call them now?

Yes.

-Where's Mark?
-I told him to go straight home.

-Operator.
-Hello, operator...

-...get me the Maida Vale Police.
-Did you tell him?

I didn't know what had happened.
I said that you weren't well.

Maida Vale Police.

Police? There's been
a ghastly accident.

- Yes, sir?
-A man has been killed.

- Your name, sir?
-Wendice.

-Is that a double S?
-No, D-l-C-E.

"C-E."
Your address, sir?

61A Charrington Gardens,
Ground-floor apartment.

-Was it an accident?
-I don't know.

What do you mean,
you don't know?

Do you think he might have
been killed by someone?

I don 't know.

Have you any idea
who might have done it?

I'll explain when you come.
How long will it take?

-About two minutes.
-Two minutes.

And don't touch anything,
will you, sir?

No, we won't touch anything.
Goodbye.

-I'll get dressed.
-Why?

-They'll want to see me.
-They're not going to see you.

But they'll ask me questions.

We'll wait until tomorrow.
I'll tell them all they need to know.

-Tony?
-Yes?

-Why did you phone me?
-What?

I'm sorry, darling,
I'll tell you about that later.

I just thought of something.

You said he used a stocking?

I think it was a stocking or a scarf.

-lsn't it there?
-No, but I expect they'll find it.

Now you go on to bed.

Tea, gentlemen?

Sergeant. Look. It's the other stocking.

All right. Break it up.
Let's get moving on.

Almost empty.
Remind me to get some more.

It always runs out
just when we need it.

Look, before I forget,
the sergeant wanted to know...

...why you didn't phone
the police immediately.

-How could l? You were--
-I know, but--

You distinctly told me not
to speak to anyone...

-...until you got here.
-I know...

...but I told him a slightly different story.

-Why?
-Well, I said you didn't phone the police...

...because you naturally assumed
that I would do it from the hotel.

Why did you say that?

Because it was the perfectly logical
explanation, and he accepted it.

Now, if they get the idea
that we delayed reporting it...

...they might get nosy and ask
all sorts of questions.

-You want me to say the same thing?
-I think so...

...in case it comes up again.

That will be Mark.
Would you let him in?

-Good morning, madam.
-Good morning.

-Mrs. Wendice?
-Yes.

I'm a police officer.
May I come in?

Of course.

Excuse me.
I'll just tell my husband you're here.

Thank you.

-Good morning.
-Good morning, sir.

I'm Chief lnspector Hubbard, in charge of
Criminal lnvestigation of this division.

I think we gave your sergeant
all the information.

Yes. I've seen his report, of course...

...but there are a few things
I'd like to get firsthand.

I gather the sergeant only saw you
for a few moments, Mrs. Wendice?

-Yes, l--
-My wife was suffering...

...from considerable shock.

Yes, that was a very nasty
experience you had.

Mind if I take a look around?

Go ahead. The bedroom and
bathroom are through here.

He certainly didn't get in
by the bathroom.

And the kitchen has bars
on the window.

We assume he must have come in
through these windows here.

I understand you weren't
here when this happened.

No, I was at a dinner party
at the Grendon Hotel...

...and by coincidence, I was phoning
my wife when she was attacked.

So I gather.

Can you tell me exactly
what time it was?

No, I'm afraid I can't.
I do remember my watch had stopped.

Did you notice, Mrs. Wendice?

-No, I didn't.
-Won't you sit down, inspector.

Why, thank you.

Have you any idea who he was?

Yes. At least,
we've discovered where he lived.

There still seems to be some
confusion as to his real name.

He appeared to have several.

Had you ever seen him before?

Why, no, of course not.

-ls this him?
-Yes.

You don't recognize him?

No, I never saw him.

But didn't you even catch
a glimpse of his face?

No. You see, he attacked me
from behind, and it was dark.

I hardly saw him at all.

Yes, but before I showed you
these photographs...

...you said you'd never seen him before.

How could you know that
if you never saw his face last night?

I don't quite understand.

Inspector, my wife simply means
that as far as she knew...

...she never saw him before.

-Was that what you meant?
-Yes.

Now, how about you, sir?
Had you ever seen him before?

No.

-No, at least....
-Yes?

He's very like someone I was at college
with, but the mustache makes a difference.

What was his name?

I don't know.
It must be 20 years since I left it.

-Was it Lesgate?
-No.

-Wilson?
-No.

-Swan?
-N--

Swan.

Wait a minute. Swan.
Yes, that's it.

Here's an old photo taken at a reunion.
We were at the same college.

There he is there.
Why, it's unbelievable.

-Did you know him well?
-No. He was senior to me.

-Have you met him since then?
-No, at least....

Come to think of it,
I did see him quite recently.

-But not to speak to.
-When was that?

Six months ago, at a railway station.

Victoria, I think. I remember noticing
how little he'd changed.

Had he a mustache then, sir?

No.

Mrs. Wendice, would you show me
exactly what happened last night?

-Tony, do I have to?
-I'm afraid so, darling.

I was in bed when the phone rang.

And I got up, and I came in here.

-Did you switch this light on?
-No.

Just show me exactly where
you were standing.

I stood here,
and I picked up the phone.

Just one moment.
Are you sure you had your back...

-...to the window like that?
-Yes.

-But why?
-Why not?

I mean, why go around the desk?

I should have picked it
up from this side.

But I always answer
the phone from here.

But why?

In case I have to write anything down,
I can hold the phone in my left hand.

I see, yes.
I'm sorry. Go on.

When I picked up the phone...

...he must have come from behind
those curtains and attacked me.

-He got something around my neck.
-Something?

What do you mean?

I think it was a stocking.

I see. And what happened then?

Well, then he pushed me
across the desk.

I remember feeling for the scissors.

Where were those
scissors usually kept?

In that mending basket.
I'd forgotten to put them away.

Now, what makes you think
he came from behind those curtains?

-Where else could he have been?
-The curtains were drawn?

-They were.
-Did you draw them?

No, inspector, I drew them
just before I went out.

-Did you lock the window at the same time?
-Yes.

-Are you quite sure of that, sir?
-Perfectly sure.

I always lock up when
I draw the curtains.

How do you suppose
he got in?

We assume that he broke in.

There's no sign of a break-in.

Our report shows
the lock's quite undamaged.

Mrs. Wendice...

...why didn't you call the police
immediately this happened?

I was trying to call to the police...

...when I discovered my husband
was on the line.

I naturally thought that he would
call the police from the hotel...

-...before he came here.
-Didn't it occur to you to call a doctor?

-No.
-Why ever not?

-He was dead.
-How did you know that?

I--

-lt was obvious.
-Did you feel his pulse?

No. Of course I didn't.

Anyone would have
realized he was dead.

-Just one look at those staring eyes--
-So you did see his face after all.

I saw his eyes!
I can't remember his face!

Inspector, my wife obviously
had never seen this man before.

And if he didn't come in by those windows,
how did he get in?

As a matter of fact, we're quite certain
that he came in by this door.

But it was locked.

Margot, did you open that door
at all after we'd gone?

-No.
-How many keys are there to this door, sir?

Only two. Mine was in my handbag,
and you had yours with you.

Yes, that's right.

-Has the caretaker got a key?
-No.

Do you employ a charwoman?

Yes, but she hasn't got one either.

I'm always here when she comes.

What makes you think
he came in this way?

-His shoes.
-His shoes?

The ground was soaking wet last night.

And if he'd come in by the garden,
he'd have left mud all over the carpet.

As it is, he didn't
leave any marks at all...

...because he wiped his shoes
on the front doormat.

-How can you tell?
-It's a fairly new mat...

...and some of its fibers
came off on his shoes.

-But surely--
-And there was a small tar stain...

...on the mat, and some
of the fibers show that as well.

There is no question about it.

Wait a minute.

I think I've got it.

Remember when your bag was stolen?

-Yes.
-Wasn't the key inside?

Yes, but it was still there
when I got it back.

Now, just a moment.
I'd like to hear about this.

-What sort of bag?
-A handbag, inspector.

My wife lost it at Victoria Station.

But I got it back from the lost and found
two weeks later.

-Was anything missing?
-All the money was gone.

-Anything else?
-No.

-No papers or letters?
-No.

-Are you quite sure about that?
-Yes.

And your latchkey was in your handbag
when you lost it?

Yes, but it was still there
when it was returned.

But whoever stole the money
could have copied the key.

Where was the bag found eventually?

At Victoria Station.

Wasn't that where you said
you saw this man, sir?

When did you lose the bag?

Wasn't it that weekend
we went to visit Peggy?

Yes, it was. I remember now.

He was sitting in the restaurant.

-Was that where you left your bag?
-Yes...

...and didn't I say something about,
"There's someone from college"?

-I don't remember.
-That's how he got in.

He made a duplicate and
returned the original to the bag.

Before you go any further with this,
how did he get in through the street door?

-The street door is never locked.
-I see.

Well, he could have had
your key copied.

And he could have used it
to open the door.

But, of course, he didn't.

-Why not?
-Because if he had...

...the key would still have
been on him when he died.

But no key was found when
we went through his pockets.

We seem to be back
just where we started.

Well, not quite.

Well, then how did he get in?

We'd better get all this down on paper.

I'd like you both to make an official
statement before the inquest.

My office is only
moments from here.

Perhaps you could come now.

-Tony. Marg--
-Mark, this is lnspector Hubbard.

-lnspector, this is Mark Halliday.
-He was with me last night.

-How do you do?
-Mr. Halliday.

As you were with Mr. Wendice last night,
you may help us.

Now, did you notice what time
it was he went to the phone?

Yes. Matter of fact,
it was three minutes after 1 1.

How did you come to notice that?