Original subtitles

- Bonsoir, Monsieur, bonsoir.

We have a wonderful show tonight.

A great success.

- Ah, Monsieur Regnier, Monsieur Borchard,

welcome back to Paris.

- It's good to be back here.

- I suppose you would like to have your former table

near the stage, monsieur.

- Thank you very much. - Certainly.

- This way.

- Monsieur Regnier.

- Charles Regnier, the author?

He is fascinating, isn't he?

- Of course.

But we should both have realized that long ago.

He's already betrothed.

- Who is the lucky girl?

- Marguerite Duval.

- I must remember snub her at the earliest opportunity.

- Ah, Charles Regnier.

- Monsieur Cocaignac.

You know Monsieur Borchard.

- Oui.

What an auspicious time for you to have returned to Paris.

You are a hero.

The lion of the hour.

- Oh, you flatter me, monsieur.

- Certainly not.

That book of yours, "Fraudulent Justice,"

it is superb.

Magnificent.

- It'll earn for him his domination

to the Academy of Literature.

- Without a doubt.

- Unfortunately, the government

doesn't look so kindly on the book.

- Oh, nonsense.

- It is the courage, to risk official persecution,

that makes an author like you important.

- Oh.

Will you join us, monsieur?

- Thank you.

But there are charming ladies

to whom I promised to introduce you.

Will you honor us?

- I'll be delighted.

I'll join you a little later.

- Très bien.

Monsieur.

- Where is Monsieur Regnier?

You promised to introduce him, Maurice.

- Have patience, my dear.

He will be here presently.

- Is your head hurting you again?

- I'm a little tired, Henry, that's all.

- I hope you're not worrying about

the government's attitude towards your book.

You know, governments are like women,

they weep and they pout and threaten,

but the more you scorn them, the more they respect you.

- It isn't that, Henry.

- But what is it then?

- It isn't anything I can point out definitely.

I just don't feel well, that's all.

If you'll excuse me, I'd like to leave.

- Well, if you don't feel like staying, we'll both leave.

- No, I wouldn't think of it.

You stay and enjoy your dinner.

I feel like walking in the fresh air.

It'll give me a chance to think out a number of things.

Oh,

please extend my apology to Monsieur Cocaignac.

- Ah, it is you, Monsieur Devereaux.

- Bonne soirée.

- It seems you walk later than usual tonight.

- Oui, oui.

In the morning, I must take these documents

to the prefect of the police.

It has been a tedious job and I'm very tired.

Bonne nuit.

- Bonne nuit, monsieur, bonne nuit.

Whoa, boy.

Whoa.

Police!

Police!

Police!

- Scat!

Scat!

I had this replica of the murder scene

built during the night,

so you could get a clearer picture of it,

Monsieur Le Prefet.

Now the corps lay exactly where you see it.

Only the portfolio which Devereaux was carrying is missing.

- You have reason to believe

it contained important documents.

- Oh, most important.

They were the documents in the secret trial

of Louis Chambre.

Devereaux was killed by someone

interested in those documents.

- But you haven't taken in consideration

one important factor, Monsieur Inspector.

Which is?

- That Devereaux was clawed to ribbons as if by a cat.

Those are your own words, I believe.

- Now, we'll find an explanation for that.

Perhaps.

But not the kind of explanation you anticipated.

I feel...

there's something supernatural about this case.

- My profound apologies, Monsieur Le Prefet,

but such superstitions went out with a monarchy, huh?

- You may scoff.

You cannot alter the fact that human beings

have been known to take the forms of certain animals.

For example,

werewolves and vultures and cats.

There have been cat people.

- Oh.

- Instance of such are a matter of record.

- Not record, merely legend.

- It's practically the same thing.

- The point is, suppose we are dealing with a catman.

- Oh please, Monsieur Le Prefet,

we'll find no catman in this case.

- Whom do you suspect?

- Charles Regnier.

- Charles Regnier, the author of that book--

- "Fraudulent Justice."

- Nonsense.

Utter nonsense.

Why should he be interested in the secret documents?

- For the very good reason that the secret trial

of Louis Chambre forms the basis for his book.

- I can't believe it.

- Consider, Monsieur Le Prefet,

are we able to establish that he had illegally gained access

to the secret documents through contact with Devereaux,

we could convict him of conspiracy

against the government of France.

That would mean confiscation of the book

and a long term of imprisonment for Regnier.

- Mm-hmm.

- For those reasons, I beg to order the man arrested.

- No.

We haven't the evidence to arrest him.

However,

you may have him brought in for questioning.

- Very good.

But, of course, you know that he will deny

having had any contact with Devereaux.

- Certainly, I deny it.

It is not the truth.

- Monsieur Regnier,

the trial of Louis Chambre was held in the year 1871

in the strictest secrecy.

The testimony was immediately sealed

and locked in the archives under court order.

The secret files were not to be opened for 50 years.

In other words, not until 1921.

- Ha.

I'll be long dead by then.

- So will I.

Now, Monsieur, 25 years ahead of that date,

you'll write a book and expose certain purported facts

of such scandalous nature.

That public reaction threatens the very government.

How do you you account for that?

- I repeat what I've already said.

The entire content of "Fraudulent Justice" is a dream,

a figment of my imagination,

woven into a pattern with my professional skill.

If it happens to be the truth, that is merely a coincidence

and if it weighs heavily

on the conscience of the government,

that is unfortunate for the government.

If that is all, gentlemen, I would like to leave now.

- One moment, Monsieur.

Does this street look familiar to you?

- I believe it's the neighborhood of the archives

of the Minister of Justice.

- That's right.

Devereaux the librarian was murdered

under that tree last night.

And a portfolio containing

the secret documents in the trial of Chambre was stolen.

- Oh, that's regrettable.

How was he killed?

- How was he killed?

That's a very good question, Monsieur.

He was strangled, then clawed, as if By a cat.

- By a cat?

- Or let us say a catman.

Now you, Monsieur, have traveled to many strange places

in the two years you have been away from France.

India, Tibet, Siam and so forth.

It seems only logical that a man of your intellect

should learn, let us say, certain strange rituals,

the black arts, some way to control

phases of the supernatural.

- In other words,

you suspect me of turning myself into a cat

merely to kill a harmless old man.

- Well, let us say that you found some way

to make it appear to have been done by a cat.

- So I am suspected of murder.

- We haven't accused you yet, Monsieur.

- Then I'm free to go?

- Certainly.

But under no circumstances are you to leave Paris.

- Thank you.

- One moment, please.

You forgot your gloves.

- Merci.

- Monsieur.

You're still wearing your evening clothes.

Would you mind telling me where you spent last night?

- My dear inspector,

where I spent last night is entirely my own affair.

Au revoir. - Au revoir.

Good morning, Charles.

- I just came from the Prefect of the Police.

You heard about the murder of Devereaux the librarian.

- Yes, it was on the morning papers.

- Inspector Severen has convinced himself

that I am the murderer.

- You?

Well, the paper says something

about some mysterious creature,

a catman.

- I am supposed to be the catman.

- Why,

I never heard anything so amusing in my life.

- It isn't quite so amusing, Henry.

Not under the circumstances.

You see, as the inspector pointed out to me,

I'm still wearing the clothes I had on last night.

It is therefore evident that I did not come home at all.

Or did I?

- No, you didn't, but that doesn't mean anything.

- On the contrary.

It means I haven't at least idea

where I spent the time between leaving

the restaurant Dubois last night

and being picked up by the police this morning.

- Well, don't forget the long struggle you had

with the fever in the tropics.

You had a spell of amnesia then, you know.

- You think it may have recurred?

- Well, it's possible.

Sometimes it does,

but you'll get over that.

I wouldn't let it worry me.

- But it does worry me.

Could it be possible that...

that I've killed Devereaux

while suffering the spell of amnesia?

- Nonsense, of course not.

I've just been adding your royalties to your account.

I hope you realize you're a very rich man, my boy.

- I was much happier when I was a poor one.

- How can you say that, Charles?

- Oh, don't misunderstand me, Henry.

I'm not ungrateful for your patronage.

If you had not given me the opportunity to travel

and to write when and what I pleased,

I still would be starving at the Latin Quarter.

- Oh please, you owe me no thanks.

- On the contrary, Henry,

I owe everything to your help.

- You know, your book "Fraudulent Justice"

is greater than all your other books combined.

Not since Balzac,

not even Victor Hugo, himself,

has an author against such popularity.

It is phenomenal.

A cognac?

- Yes, please.

- And you, Borchard?

Yes, thank you.

- This is special cognac.

There is no other in all France

with the tame,

with the friendly warmth.

You will see,

and like it.

- Here's to a great author and a superb book.

May you both make a fortune out of it.

- If it were only as simple as your wish.

However, I stand to lose a fortune.

- Surely you are joking.

Why, of course he is.

- On the contrary.

I am very upset.

If the police can prove that Charles gained illegal access

to the records of that trial,

they can confiscate every copy of the book.

The scandal would ruin me.

Tell me the truth, Charles.

We are all in this together.

- He had no access to the information.

I could vouch for that.

- That's the truth, Monsieur Audet.

The book is pure fiction.

Every word of it.

- Then you must be psychic or in league with the devil.

You can rest assured,

if you hadn't hit so close to the truth,

the government would not be so concerned.

- Don't take the government's attitude too seriously.

- My daughter and I were talking about it this very morning.

She is so enthusiastic about your book

that she would defy all of France in your defense, Charles.

- I'd like to greet her, where is she?

In her office, there.

- With your permission, I'll go in and see her.

Meanwhile, you two can squabble over my royalties.

- Another cognac?

- No, thanks.

Pardon me.

- Monsieur Regnier.

You're back.

- Oh, so now it's Monsieur Regnier?

In your letters you called me Charles.

Or am I the kind of man whom distance lends enchantment?

- Not distance, Charles.

To see you again is the enchantment.

How famous you have become since we last saw each other.

- And how beautiful you have become.

- What you write in your books is evidently true,

Now, however, you're inventing fiction.

- Not at all.

Now I speak the truth.

My books are fiction.

- Truth are fiction,

I must admit it's nice to hear it from you.

Come on over here and sit beside me.

It's been such a long time

and we have so many things to talk about.

I hardly know where to begin.

What do you suggest I ask you first?

- I suggest you don't ask me anything right now.

Instead, let me take you out dinner tomorrow night.

- But what about Marguerite Duval?

Won't she object?

- I don't think one's fiancee has a right

to come between two friends,

especially a friend like you

who has always been so helpful to me in the past.

- I wouldn't feel right about it, Charles.

You see, talking together here

or writing harmless letters is one thing,

but dining together is quite another.

Much as I'd adore it, I don't think we'd better.

- Well,

I guess that's the penalty I must pay

for being engaged to Marguerite.

- There's something on your mind this evening, dear.

- What makes you say that, Marguerite?

- Well, for one thing, this is the first time you and I

have been alone since your return,

and instead of talking to me like you used to,

you've hardly said a word.

What is it, clear?

I'm waiting for an explanation, Charles.

- I don't want to hurt you, Marguerite,

but I've been away for such a long time

that I've had a chance to look at us more objectively.

- Is there someone else, is that it?

Or have you decided you're not in love with me?

- I'm not sure either one of us is really in love.

You see,

I have found out that I have to roam over the whole world

to live with people,

all kinds of people.

Sometimes it's rough,

often dangerous.

I couldn't drag you around with me like that.

- Of course you couldn't.

Nor would I want to go.

My place is here in Paris and so is yours.

- Not my place, Marguerite.

I'd stagnate wasting my life on teas and dinners

and a round of stuffy parties.

- You seem to forget that once you've been elected

to the Academy of Literature,

you'll be an important personage,

and if you went traipsing off again

like you have been doing, well what would people think?

- I don't care what people think.

I have my work to do and my life to live.

- Am I to understand my wishes are of no importance?

- Of course they are important,

but you and I are living on different planes.

We have so little in common.

- Oh, I see.

Shall you dilute yourself if you think I will endure

the humiliation of a broken engagement.

- You couldn't refuse.

- Oh, but I could.

In fact, I do.

After all, I am a Duval.

That is important in France.

You know, my parents are giving this party in our honor.

Shall we go inside?

- I'll stay out here for a little while if you don't mind.

I have a terrible headache.

- I must have a talk with you.

It's about Charles.

- I'm at your service, Mademoiselle.

- Thank you.

Shall we sit?

I know you and Charles have been very close to each other

and if anything were wrong with him, you'd know about it.

Isn't that so?

- Yes, I think perhaps I would.

- Well then please tell me the truth.

- Well, you must be more explicit.

I don't know what you're talking about.

- Charles has acted strangely this evening.

He asked me to release him from our engagement.

- Well, perhaps it'd be just as well to do so for a while.

- That is out of the question.

- I didn't want to tell you this,

but since matters have taken such a turn,

I think it's my duty to you.

You know, Charles had a long siege of tropical fever.

- Is he "I?

- More so than people imagine.

I've tried to help him in every way,

and you must do the same.

- What do you suggest?

- He needs sympathy and understanding.

If you are patient with him,

I'm sure that everything will straighten out.

- Stop here, please.

Charles.

Oh, Charles!

Drive through the park, please.

I'm sorry if I said anything to hurt you, Charles.

I didn't mean to, really.

It rather upset me the way I acted this evening.

Why don't you say something?

Anything?

Don't just sit there.

- Whoa!

Whoa.

Whoa.

- Charles!

How are you?

Do come in.

- Good evening, Marie.

- I hardly expected you tonight of all nights.

- Surprised?

- And delighted.

My father has gone to visit some friends

and the servants have the evening off.

But come on in.

I thought the Duvals were giving a party

in your honor tonight.

- I attended.

As was expected of me.

It was such a boring affair.

The house was filled with the usual stuffed shirts.

Didn't Marguerite object to you leaving so early?

- Marguerite, object?

- I know I should have, strenuously.

- It's strange.

I don't recall leaving the Duval's.

- That hardly makes sense, Charles.

No, I suppose not.

- Something is worrying you.

You seem an altogether different person.

- Something is worrying me.

I was talking with Marguerite on the veranda,

when she left and went into the house.

All at once, I had a feeling I had to get away from there.

The next thing I,

I found myself here in front of your house.

- And you recall nothing in between?

- Nothing.

Nothing at all.

- Why, that's incredible.

- Don't look so frightened, clear.

I'm almost positive it isn't serious.

Now run along and powder your nose.

You still may be able to get into the restaurant Dubois,

for a midnight snack.

- Bonsoir, Monsieur Regnier, Mademoiselle.

- We aren't too late to be served, are we, Guillard?

- We are closing but for you, Monsieur,

we can always make arrangements.

Please.

I still have a bottle of.

Or perhaps Chateau Lafite, 1870.

Lafite, by all means.

Ah, I will bring the wine.

- How beautiful you are.

How does it go?

"In thy soft lips,

"the blood red wine of life still flowing.

"In thy fair eyes,

"the muted melody of spheres."

Do you remember it?

- I've said it over and over again almost every night.

- In all Paris could you find another bottle quite so fine.

Oh, one must have genuine appreciation.

Oh, look at the color.

Smell the bouquet.

Taste it.

It's magnificent.

- Oh, now I am satisfied.

- You have changed, Charles.

- I'm a little disturbed.

- Is it because of those lapses of memory?

- How do you know?

- You told me so yourself, Charles,

when you arrived at my house.

You said you didn't remember leaving the Duval's.

- Oh yes, so I did.

If I only knew why it happens the way it does.

Why didn't it happen before?

Why now, just as I return to Paris?

- It's merely that you have been working too hard.

You're tired, that's all.

- I'm glad to hear you say that.

What you need is a long rest and relaxation.

- In that case, beginning tomorrow,

I'm going to devote myself entirely to you.

- Aren't you forgetting something?

What?

- Marguerite.

First, you have to settle things with her, dear.

- I have settled with her.

That affair's finished.

- Voila, Monsieur Inspector.

You can see for yourself.

Monsieur Regnier, he is not at home.

- You haven't seen him this evening?

- Not since he went out.

- What time was that?

- About seven, maybe eight.

- What time did he get in last night?

- I believe he didn't come back last night.

When he returned, he still had his dress suit on.

- Yeah, we know about that.

What about the other one?

- Monsieur Borchard?

- Uh-huh.

- He came in last night.

I let him in myself.

My feet are getting cold.

I'm gonna start to sneeze.

Please go.

Go.

Why do you wanna ask me so many questions for?

What has Monsieur Regnier clone to have the police upset?

- Tell me,

have you noticed anything strange or unusual

about Monsieur Regnier since his returned to Paris?

- Well,

I couldn't say that I have,

and I couldn't say for sure that I haven't.

- You see, I'm catching cold.

- Come along, get your clothes on.

We're taking you in.

To see if we can help your memory.

- What are you thinking?

- The thoughts of a man in love...

with you.

- It's easy to see why you write so beautifully.

- You mock me but I'm serious, Marie.

- How can you be sure?

There have been so many women in your life.

- There have been many women,

but there's only one woman now.

- Ha!

Bonsoir, bonsoir.

- Bonsoir. - Bonsoir, Jules.

- Sit down, Jules, have a glass of wine.

- Oh, I can't stay, the editor is waiting for me.

We had a little excitement at the prefecture tonight.

- Yeah?

- You know, you are very lucky to be working for the press.

Something is always happening.

But you take my job.

I sit for weeks and smear paint on a piece of canvas

and when I go to a gallery,

the proprietor says my work is...

no good.

- Is it?

- No, it is awful.

But I would like to have something for my trouble though.

- Stop talking.

Let's hear what happened at the prefecture.

- It's bad, very bad.

- Yeah?

- The catman has murdered another one.

- The catman! - Again?

That makes two in two nights.

This time, the unfortunate one

was a beautiful girl, one high up in society.

- The man must be Satan himself.

- Oh, he's a supernatural creature, if you ask me.

- There's nothing supernatural about this.

In fact, Monsieur Severen, the inspector,

already knows the identity of the murderer.

He expects to arrest him at any moment.

- He's a bad one, that fellow.

- He's no ordinary one.

He's an important man, a famous writer.

Yeah?

He was to marry the girl real soon.

Duval, Duval, you've heard of her.

- Duval? - Duval!

Marguerite Duval?

- Charles, it can't be possible.

- I don't know.

I don't understand.

- Oh, Jules.

You did not tell us the name of the man they suspect.

- His name is Regnier.

- Charles Regnier?

- Oui.

- This is him.

Charles Regnier, the catman.

- We must get out of here.

- We are holding you for the police, Monsieur.

- I wouldn't advise you to do that.

We are four to one, you cannot escape.

- Come on, clear.

- Look out, Charles!

- Good morning, Marie.

- Good morning, Father.

- Did you see my newspaper this morning?

- No.

No, I didn't.

- I can't understand.

This is the first time in years I didn't get my paper.

- Father.

- Yes?

- Do you mind if I don't go with you

to the office this morning?

I think I should stay until Charles leaves.

- I heard him pacing the floor of his room

almost the entire night.

Is something wrong, dear?

- As I told you last night, he wasn't feeling very well,

so I asked him to stay.

You know how he feels about the police banning his book.

- Is he any more worried than I am?

- No, but--

- That book will break me yet, you'll see.

I'm a fool to have published it.

- You've made quite a bit of money on it.

- Money.

Money isn't everything.

Where's my reputation?

Where's my peace of mind?

Where's my breakfast?

- It's already on the table.

- "With fiendish savagery,

"the mysterious catman, last night,

"struck down Marguerite Duval in field

"in which she was riding.

"By the time the driver could investigate,

"the man had disappeared.

"The only tangible clue so far obtained

"is a pair of the man's bloody dress gloves."

It can't be possible.

- Of course it can't, dear.

It wasn't you, Charles.

You must make yourself believe that.

- It must be true, Marie.

It must be true.

I killed Marguerite.

And I killed Devereaux too.

- Charles, please.

- This thing comes over me and then,

then I don't know what I'm doing.

I turn into a beast.

- You must listen to me.

There is some other explanation, there has to be.

You are worn out and you're letting this thing unnerve you.

You must take yourself in hand.

- You're afraid of me.

I can see it in your eyes.

You know the truth,

but you don't want me to know it.

- You're mad.

- Yes, that's it.

I'm mad, mad, mad!

But I'm not a coward.

Thank heaven,

I'm not a coward.

- Charles.

What are you going to do?

- Do?

What is there to do but to go to the police

and confess everything?

- No, no you mustn't.

You are not guilty of those horrible crimes.

Won't you try to understand?

If I thought you were murderer,

would I have brought you here last night?

Would I have offered to take care of you?

- In spite of everything,

you really believe I'm innocent?

- If I didn't, I'd be the first to urge you

to give yourself up.

Now come on, clear,

let's go in and have breakfast.

- I know I have no right to say I love you, Marie,

but I do.

And someday I hope I can prove to you how much.

The police.

They've traced me here.

- Wait.

I'll try to get rid of them.

- It's no use.

We might as well give up.

- You can't.

You'll convict yourself even though you are innocent.

- Come in.

Borchard!

It's you, thank heavens.

- We thought it was the police.

- Come quickly, Charles, you must get out of here.

I have a carriage waiting in the courtyard.

- I can't go like this. - Never mind that.

You must hurry.

The police have been trailing me all morning.

They may be here at any moment now.

- All right, wait.

Goodbye, clear.

I'll get in touch with you as soon as I can.

- I'm going with you, Charles.

- No, Marie. - I don't think you should.

- I'm going.

It'll only take one moment to get my things.

- There's Borchard's carriage!

Overtake him!

- Here come the police!

- Faster!

- I'll prepare rooms for you.

I regret the other servants are in Paris

with Monsieur de la Marquis.

- Very well.

- Who's château is this?

- The Marquis de Boncore.

He very generously let me use it during his absence.

At least you be safe here, Charles,

until I can arrange to have you smuggled out of France.

- Out of France, Monsieur Borchard?

- Why, yes, of course.

If he falls into the hands of that blood hound, Severen,

he'll have no chance of clearing himself at all.

I don't want to have to go through another night

and morning like this has been.

Let's get some air in here.

- Monsieur.

I am Police Inspector Severen.

- I've done no harm.

I'm innocent! - I know that.

It's perfectly all right.

Please, it's all right.

Please!

All I want to know is are you're going as far as Paris?

- Oui, Monsieur.

- Will you take me there?

- Climb on, Monsieur Inspector.

- That's fine.

- You know...

- Continue the search for Regnier.

As soon as the carriage is prepared,

you may communicate with me at the office of the prefect.

- Oui, Monsieur.

- How did you happen to find us, Monsieur Borchard?

- When I returned home from Duval's,

the police were waiting for me.

Inspector Severen had picked up a tablecloth

at the restaurant Dubois.

An artist had sketched a picture on it of you, Marie.

I recognized it immediately.

Of course, I refused to identify it.

After the police had left, I packed our bags

and waited for a chance to slip away

and find out from you where Charles had gone.

But the opportunity didn't come until this morning.

- I did kill Marguerite, and I killed Devereaux.

- No, Charles, no.

- Why, of course you didn't!

- Those was where my gloves they found, weren't they?

- What makes you say that?

- Weren't they?

- No.

- I know you're lying.

There's no use getting away from the truth.

Go away,

both of you,

or might kill you too.

You hear me?

I might kill you too!

I might kill!

- I'm sorry to have to do that, Charles.

You're hysterical.

On the verge of a collapse.

I don't want you to be trapped by a severance web

of circumstantial evidence.

- I am the catman...

And nobody can convince me I'm not.

But you are not.

Both Marie and I will swear to that.

- Of course, we will.

Won't you please believe us, clear?

- If I only could.

- Charles, I want you to do me a favor.

Go upstairs, take a rest.

If after you wake you haven't changed your mind,

I'll take you to Paris to let you give yourself up.

Come on.

- Is he all right?

- Yes, for the present.

Sit down, my dear.

Marie,

Charles tells me that you and he are in love.

- I am, at least.

Whether or not Charles is, I'm not certain.

- I'm certain.

It's unfortunate for both of you.

- Why unfortunate?

- He's in a very serious condition,

much more serious than even he suspects.

- What are you trying to tell me?

Certainly not that Charles is the catman after all.

- I'm sorry, but the facts are irrefutable.

- Then those were his gloves?

- Inspector Severen found them in the carriage.

They were covered with blood.

- How is it you told Charles

he couldn't possibly be guilty

and now you are equally positive he is?

- I can be frank with you, Marie.

In fact, it's my duty to be,

if I want to save you both from a lot of unhappiness.

If on the other hand, I were to got to tell him,

it would ruin his career.

- Career?

What career could he have wanted for two murders?

No, Monsieur Borchard,

if Charles is guilty,

he must give himself up to the police at once.

- And rob the world of his incomparable genius?

- But what about this madness?

- If I'm sure it will pass.

In the course of a few days,

I can make arrangements to get up

across the border into Spain.

There'll be many places of refuge for him.

- He can't run away from his conscience.

- How does his conscience enter into it?

He has no recollection of these spells.

He's not aware of what he has done.

I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily, Marie,

but I think you ought to leave a Paris without delay.

Every minute that you spend in this house,

your life is in danger.

- You may be right,

but my intuition tells me differently.

- But this is something outside his consciousness,

or which he has no control, no willpower.

- Nevertheless, I'm going to stay to help him.

- This manuscript was compiled by my grandfather in 1845,

just 50 years ago.

Permit me, Monsieur, to read an excerpt from it.

If you please.

- "Further evidence of planetary influence on transmutation,

"especially that alteration of form and substance,

"in which men reportedly assume the features

"and characteristics of certain animals,

"is established in the astronomical phenomenon

"of Jupiter in juxtaposition

"to the constellation Omnus Magnus.

"This phenomenon has occurred

"but eight times in the history of the world,

"and in each case it was accompanied by

"the unaccountable appearance of a creature

"of human qualities

"which assumed the characteristics of a cat.

"My calculations indicate that the required phenomenon

"will occur 50 years hence.

"It would therefore be interesting to observe

"whether at that time this creature

"will again manifest itself to complete the cycle

"conforming to the ninth life of a cat."

- You see, Monsieur Inspector, "50 years hence."

That means now, this year.

You learned ancestor, Monsieur de Roche,

was quite correct in his calculations.

- Astronomical calculations may be quite correct.

- Bah, bah, bah, bah.

- But astrological influences are entirely problematical.

- One cannot deny history, Monsieur.

- But this is not history, eh?

- Legend, which is handed down

through successive generations, becomes history.

- Quite right, quite right, indeed.

- Many of the great events of history

were marked by the reappearance of the catman.

He first appeared in Rome at the time

of the massacre of the Christian martyrs.

300 years later, when Christianity had been discarded

by the Emperor, Julian,

he was known to have appeared in the Balkan countries.

He appeared in Alexandria at the time

of the birth of Mohamed.

In Cairo during the Sasanian conquest of Egypt,

Syria, Persia.

At the time of the battle of Hastings,

he was variously reported in several

of the German principalities.

His eighth appearance was in Moscow,

when he murdered scores,

murders which were blamed on the Czar, Ivan the Terrible.

Monsieur,

I have devoted my life to the task of verifying

my grandfather's calculations,

and I am convinced that now is the time

when the catman will make his last appearance.

- And Devereaux was murdered only two nights ago.

- It's all very impressive,

but nevertheless, I still insist transmutation

is a theory without foundation in science.

As a matter of fact,

I hope to have Charles Regnier under arrest

in a very short time.

Then you shall see that he is

no manifestation of the supernatural,

but merely a very ordinary criminal gone amok.

- Come in.

- Communication, Monsieur Prefect.

- We must leave at once.

Will you excuse us, please?

- Is Charles still asleep?

- Yes, but he's restless.

That's how those spells of amnesia always start.

- Don't you think we ought to awaken him?

- No, heaven forbid he might go berserk.

Now you see, there's nothing to be frightened about.

Scat!

- Oh, it's silly to be so nervous.

- We both seem to be a little unnerved.

- You're not leaving, are you?

- I must, my dear.

I'm going to the village to make arrangements

for Charles to get across the border.

- But the police.

- I don't think I'll have any trouble

avoiding them in the darkness.

Now, don't be alarmed.

I'll be back shortly.

- Henry!

Henry,

I'm going back to Paris after all.

I've thought everything over

since our discussion this afternoon,

and I think it would be best for all concerned to do so.

- I thought you'd change your mind

when you learned the truth about Charles.

- Oh, but I haven't changed my mind about Charles.

The only reason for my going back to Paris is

that I want to do everything in my power

to clear him of suspicion.

In that case, it might not even be necessary

to smuggle him out of France.

- Yeah, perhaps you're right.

When I'm in the village,

I'll see if I can arrange your journey for tomorrow.

- Must you go there tonight?

- Yes, the police will be continuing there search.

I wouldn't dare be seen out in broad daylight.

The servant's room is in the far wing of the house.

You may not need this,

but in case anything happens,

you'll be able to defend yourself.

Goodnight, Marie.

- Is there anything else you require, Mademoiselle?

No, thank you.

- No, Charles.

No!

Stop it, Charles, stop it!

No, Charles.

No!

- It is a catman after all.

- He is still alive.

- Take him inside.

- Oui, Monsieur.

- Fortunately, Mademoiselle has only fainted.

- Help her into the chateau.

Is he dead, Monsieur Inspector?

- Almost.

That's peculiar.

- We arrived in the nick of time, Mademoiselle.

Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm the prefect of police,

this is Inspector Severen.

- Mademoiselle.

- Where is the catman?

- You need have no further fear of him.

- Charles.

I killed him.

It is Charles, isn't it?

- Yes, Mademoiselle,

it is Monsieur Regnier.

- But with the features of a cat.

- However, it's quite impossible for you to have shot him.

Since the gun you fired was loaded with blanks.

- With blanks?

- Indeed.

- Charles!

Charles!

- Marie.

What is it, darling?

What is all this?

- I guess I owe you an apology, Monsieur Regnier.

I was convinced you were the catman.

But as he's lying over there, I obviously am mistaken.

- Obviously.

There's your catman.

- I am the catman, Charles.

- Henry.

- Borchard.

All the time I've known him

and I never suspected.

- I exerted a psychic power over you.

I was able to convey to your mind

the information contained in your book,

"Fraudulent Justice."

- Then it wasn't fiction after all?

- No.

I was present at the trial.

- In the form of a cat.

- Then it was you who killed Devereaux and Marguerite Duval.

- Yes.

But why?

- One was a menace to Charles' career,

the other to his happiness.

Death has been denied me

until I've fulfilled the cycle of my destiny.

This is my last...

reincarnation.

- Ninth life of a cat.

Incredible.

- Not at all, I told you there are cat people.

- I always knew in my heart

it couldn't have been you, darling.