When I was a lad,
a journey down the rivers of England was a truly blithe experience.
"Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive," as Wordsworth has it.
Brooklime and flag iris,
plantain and marsh marigolds rioted on the banks.
And kingfishers swooped and darted about,
their shadows racing over the brown trout.
Well, ladies and gentlemen,
I'm happy to be able to tell you
that these ravishing sights
will be restored to us again in the near future,
thanks to the diligent efforts of your government and your local authority.
All the water above this point will soon be clear.
Clear of industrial effluent.
Clear of detergents.
Clear of the waste products of our society,
with which for so long we have poisoned our rivers and canals.
Let us rejoice that pollution will soon be banished
from the waters of this river,
and that there will soon be no foreign...
Look!
What is it?
It's a woman!
What's that 'round her neck?
She's been strangled!
Looks like a tie.
Yes, it's a tie, all right.
Another necktie murder.
Come on. Move out of the way.
Please come away from here, Sir George.
It's another necktie murder.
What are the police doing about it? That's what I'd like to know.
Why can't they find him?
He's a regular Jack the Ripper.
Not on your life. He used to carve 'em up.
Sent a bird's kidney to Scotland Yard once,
wrapped in a bit of violet writing paper.
That'll do, Herb. I'm quite sure the lady
doesn't want to hear any more about it.
Or was it a bit of a liver?
I say, it's not my club tie, is it?
Cheers, Squadron Leader.
Chin chin.
Good morning.
Look, it may come as something of a surprise to you, Blaney,
but in this pub we sell liquor, we don't give it away.
Still less do we expect our employees to steal it.
I was going to pay for it.
Oh, yeah, I'm sure you were.
Well, that's the last drink you're gettin' on this house. Go on. Get out.
I told you I was going to pay for it.
I always pay for my drinks.
Even for your watered-down gin.
Now, don't come the innocent with me, you bastard!
My stocks have been well down this past month.
Now, you watch what you're saying!
What, to a thief?
What's going on?
Our friend here says that I've been pinching his booze.
Ridiculous! He always pays.
How would you know? Well, I work with him, don't I?
And what else?
What's that supposed to mean?
Look, just keep out of this, will you, Babs? Come on, Blaney, outside.
-You're fired. -You can't do that.
He never stole nothing in his life.
He puts the money in the till. I've seen him.
A thief or a boozer, it's all the same to me.
I don't need either one as a barman,
quite apart from the fact that half the time
he's pulling your tits instead of pulling pints.
Now, look here... He can't keep his hands off you.
The customers are always talking about it.
And what about you? Always fingering me.
You keep your lying mouth shut, Babs, or you can get out as well.
I'm off.
Keep the change!
I'll send for my things later.
Just a minute!
There's a little matter of £10 I advanced you on your salary.
Are you planning to steal that as well?
There you are. You know what to do with them.
You shouldn't let him talk to you like that.
I know.
What are you gonna do, love?
I don't know.
Another pub perhaps.
Are you all right?
You just gave him back the 10 quid you borrowed.
I had to. He didn't think I had it.
Don't worry, I've got a bit left.
Well, this is Covent Garden, not the garden of love.
How 'bout starting work?
Oh, get stuffed.
Look after yourself.
I'll call you.
Thanks, guv.
Hello, Dick. Hello, Bob.
I was just coming over for a quick one.
Why aren't you back there polishing the sausages or watering the gin,
or whatever it is you do there before opening time?
I have just been given the push.
What for?
You weren't pissing in the beer again?
Forsythe and I had a set-to.
Oh, him.
You duffed him up, I hope.
He's a bastard.
He was on my back right from the start.
From squadron leader to barman in one easy lesson!
He wouldn't leave it alone.
He's the boss' brother-in-law, isn't he?
Forsythe? Yeah, I think so.
Brother-in-laws are the worst.
Or should I say, "Brothers-in-law"?
What are you gonna do now?
I haven't decided yet.
Well, if you're in schtuk, you know where to come.
Thanks.
George!
That's the last one.
Thanks, Mr. Rusk.
Why don't you go and have a chat with your ex?
She's doin' all right, isn't she?
I haven't seen her for ages, as you know.
There's no use opening all that up again.
No, I suppose not.
Well, as I say, you can always rely on me.
You're all right for a few quid?
Yes. Thanks all the same.
'Cause if you're not...
No, no. Really. I just got paid.
Well...
Have some grapes.
Here you are. I'll get you a box.
Finest muscats, fresh in this morning.
Here you are. Take one of these back to your girlfriend, Babs.
Get her to peel you one. "Beulah, peel me a grape."
That's what my ol' mum used to say when I was a kid.
Well, at least you won't starve to death.
Are you sure you don't need a few bob?
No, I'm okay.
Well, you don't look okay. Anything else the matter?
No. What should be?
I don't know.
Well, remember, anything I can do, anytime, it's a pleasure.
Ta.
It won't be the same in the Old Globe now.
Well, Babs is still there.
Yeah, that's true.
And she's prettier than you.
A matter of opinion. Bye, now.
Hey, wait a minute. Here, give us your paper.
Here you are. This will make you a fortune.
This afternoon in the 3:00, Coming Up.
Never been out before, but very well-fancied at home.
Now, this is a four-horse race,
and the other three have all won before.
So she'll start about 20-to-1, maybe more.
20-to-1?
Put your word on it. She can't lose.
A little birdie told me, and my little birdies are reliable.
Well, thanks again, Bob.
Anytime.
Don't forget, Bob's your uncle.
Good morning, Mr. Rusk.
Hello, Sergeant. What's new?
Not much.
This necktie fellow's giving them a bit of a headache, though.
Can't seem to get a line on him.
Have you tried advertising?
Oh, very funny.
Look, you're one for the birds.
Ask 'em all if they've ever had a near miss
with a bloke like that, would you?
Or if any of their girlfriends have.
Sure.
Mind you, half of them haven't got their heads screwed on right,
let alone knowing when they've been screwed off.
Have you met my friend Dick B...
Funny fella.
Well, don't worry, Sergeant. I'll put the word about.
Thanks, Mr. Rusk.
A large brandy.
What're you gonna have, Doctor?
A pint and a morsel of cheese'll do me fine.
Let me order us a hot lunch. We have plenty of time.
Hello, Mr. Usher.
What's good today, Maisie?
Stick to the shepherd's. I would.
Right. That's two shepherd's pies, then, please.
And two pints.
I see our necktie murderer's been up to it again.
I saw the newspaper headlines as we came away from the court.
Hmm.
I wouldn't envy the lot of any medical man giving evidence at that trial.
Why not?
Why, surely it's easier in these days
of legally diminished responsibility.
In many cases you may be right.
But not here.
The man who's killing these women
is a criminal, sexual psychopath.
And the legal profession has never really known how to treat them.
I suppose you could call them social misfits.
We were just talking about the tie murderer, Maisie.
You better watch out.
He rapes 'em first, doesn't he?
Yes, I believe he does.
Well, I suppose it's nice to know
that every cloud has a silver lining.
Oh.
On the surface, in casual conversation,
they appear as ordinary, likable adult fellows.
But emotionally they remain as dangerous children,
whose conduct may revert to a primitive, subhuman level at any moment.
Large brandy.
You mean they'll kill at any time,
just as the mood takes them?
Exactly.
And, being governed by the pleasure principle,
they're particularly dangerous
when their desires are being frustrated.
Are you deaf? I distinctly said a large brandy.
There's scarcely enough in that to cover the bottom.
Actually, you can make it a triple.
I wonder if the police have got any sort of line on this fellow.
Oh, I shouldn't think so.
With psychopaths there's usually no linking motive.
Let's hope he slips up soon.
In one way, I rather hope he doesn't.
Well, we haven't had a good, juicy series
of sex murders since Christie.
And they're so good for the tourist trade.
Foreigners somehow expect the squares of London to be fog-wreathed,
full of hansom cabs and littered with ripped whores, don't you think?
Hey, Dick!
What about Coming Up then?
No, I'm afraid I haven't any time. Thanks all the same.
No, Coming Up, the horse. It won by a mile.
20-to-1! What did I tell you?
Made a fortune. Thanks a lot.
Anytime.
Hey, wait a minute!
This is my ma. Ma, meet Dick Blaney,
the best pilot who ever pulled a pint of beer.
Hello, Mrs. Rusk.
Pleased to meet you, I'm sure.
She lives down in Kent, in the Garden of England!
Still got the grapes then?
Oh, yeah. Keep 'em for later.
You tell her to take the pips out. They're bad for the appendix.
Ta-ta.
Bye. Thanks again for the tip.
I told you, Bob's your uncle.
20-to-1!
20-to-bloody-1! Christ! Damn it to hell!
Well, my dears,
I'm sure I can say on behalf of Mrs. Blaney as well as myself,
that it's moments like this that make
all our little efforts here so worthwhile.
You mean, you just don't do it for the money?
Of course, Mrs. Davisson, this is a business,
and financial considerations prevail.
But our ultimate satisfaction is the making happy of two lonely people.
Nice of you, Miss Barling. Keep up the good work!
Well, it's up to us now, I guess, eh?
Yeah. And good-bye, Mr. Salt.
Bye, Miss Barling. Thank you.
It's been our pleasure. And I know you'll both be very happy.
After all, I know you're both mad about beekeeping.
And there's nothing like a shared interest.
I'm sure we will be. Come on, Neville. Best foot forward.
I suppose we should go straight
and get the marriage license, my dear.
What's your rush?
Let's go to my place first.
Did you know, Neville, that my late husband, Mr. Davisson,
was up at 5:30 every morning of his life?
And by the time he brought me my cup of tea,
which he did punctually at 9:15,
he would've cleaned the whole house, and he was so quiet about it,
that in 14 years, he never woke me once.
Not once!
Oh, a neat man, was he, then?
He liked a tidy place.
So do I, come to that.
Dandruff. We'll have to get you something for that.
Afternoon.
You're new here, aren't you?
I've been here for over a year now. What can I do for you, sir?
You can inform Mrs. Blaney
that one of her less successful exercises
in matrimony has come to see her.
And who shall I say is calling?
Mr. Blaney.
Or if you preferred it, ex-Squadron Leader Blaney,
late of the RAF and Mrs. Blaney's matrimonial bed.
I see. Is Mrs. Blaney expecting you?
She must be.
Everybody expects a bad penny to turn up sooner or later.
Mrs. Blaney, there's a Mr. Blaney to see you.
Mr. Blaney? Send him in, will you please, Monica?
Hello, Brenda.
Hello, Richard.
What are you doing here?
I just thought I'd call around.
Well, come in. Take a seat.
Thanks.
It's good to see you.
You too. You look fine.
I'll be with you in a minute. I've got to finish writing up a few notes.
How is everything then, Brenda?
You making a fortune?
Things are going very well.
Streets of London thronged with lonely hearts
beating a path to your door?
That's it.
I'm amazed that in an age
where practically everybody considers marriage is hell
that you can find any clients.
Okay, Richard, if you've just come around here to insult me,
I think, perhaps you...
I'm not insulting you, for Christ's sake!
Will you please lower your voice.
Why?
I don't care if Vinegar Joe out there does hear me.
Why don't you get her married off, by the way?
Preferably to a 700-pound Japanese wrestler.
That should iron out some of her creases a little.
Monica, dear, it's nearly 4:30.
Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off?
I'm sure there's some shopping you'd like to do.
Well, thank you, Mrs. Blaney,
if you're sure you don't need me.
I'm quite sure, thank you. Good night.
Why do you always come to see me
when you've had too much to drink?
I don't always come to see you when I've had too much to drink.
As a matter of fact, I don't always come to see you.
I haven't seen you for over a year.
You were half seas over then, and violent.
I do hope we're not going to have a repeat of that.
Me violent?
Don't be bloody ridiculous.
Would I raise a hand to the goddess of love?
What Brenda Blaney brings together let no man put asunder!
I didn't say you were violent to me.
But you certainly acted the fool
and threw the furniture about a bit.
Just look at the state you're in.
Really!
Oh, leave me alone.
Bachelors are supposed to be untidy, aren't they?
I thought tidiness was most women's dowry, or don't you preach that here?
Oh, we are bitter today.
What's the matter?
I'm sorry.
I had a bad day, that's all. I lost my job.
How?
Well, I got fired, that's how.
What do you think, I mislaid it?
For pinching a glass of brandy.
My employer thought I wasn't going to put the money in the till.
Till?
I was working, until this morning that is, as a barman.
And another thing. I was given a very good horse
by a great friend of mine, one Bob Rusk.
And it came in at 20-to-1,
and I didn't have enough cash on me to back it.
I'm sorry.
Well, these things always go in threes.
I wonder what the rest of the day has in store.
Dinner with me, I hope.
Well, that, of course, would be delightful, but...
I mean, of course, on me.
We'll go to my club.
But I must finish these letters first.
Here's the address, in case you've forgotten it.
How will it be if we meet there 'round about 7:30?
Fine.
Thanks for a lovely evening. It was great. I mean that.
Thanks for joining me.
It was a damn sight better than the leftovers at the Globe,
not that I'm in for any more of those, of course.
You ought to get married again, Richard.
Oh, no.
You ought to know I'm no good at it. How long did we have?
Nine years, was it?
Ten. Ah.
Ten years.
It was a good job you got out when you did.
I don't know.
I suppose I was lucky the agency worked out for me.
What you mean is, that you're lucky
you haven't had to rely on me these past two years.
I didn't say that.
But you meant it.
Look, Richard, I suppose some people
are good at organization and others aren't.
That's all I meant.
And I'm not, I suppose.
Rubbish! You know what filthy luck I had.
Was it my fault that the roadhouse didn't go?
It was going fine
till they opened the bloody motorway. I know.
Was it my fault the council tore down the riding stables?
I know. I know life can be very unfair.
But you never used to be sorry for yourself.
Where's the Richard Blaney I married?
Richard Blaney, EFC. Do you remember the citation?
"For inspiring leadership, skill, and tenacity of purpose."
You divorced him. That's what happened to him.
Now, you tell me, what sort of skill
do you need to deal with shopkeepers and interfering bureaucrats?
Everyone's listening.
Well, let them.
I'll bet they've never had to tear down
their own livelihood with their own hands.
It's all right for you.
You just go and build it up somewhere else.
You're like that. You're good at business.
I'll bet they're all good at business here.
I'll bet you're making a fortune out of that agency.
And why not? If you can't make love, sell it.
The respectable kind, of course. The married kind!
Now look what you've done.
Oh, sir. Let me help you.
Leave me alone!
I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.
Come on. We'd better go.
Will you be all right?
You did say you hadn't enough money to put on that horse.
Don't worry. You've done enough for one day.
You had a coat too, didn't you?
Yeah. That one there.
Mine's the pink one.
No, no, no. That's not allowed.
Rules of the club.
Thank you.
It's all right, Richard. I've got it. Here. Thank you.
So, this is it, huh?
Can I come in?
I'd like to see where you live.
Go along now. Run along home. It's late.
You call this late?
It's late enough for a working girl.
Come on, Brenda. I won't be long, I promise.
All right, but only for a few minutes, mind.
Okay, thanks. I won't need you.
It just fell out of your pocket, guvnor, onto the floor.
And I was just putting it back when you were asleep.
It sort of jerked out, like, on the floor.
I was putting 'em in a bit quiet, like, so as not to waken you.
You keep your hands out of my pockets, or I'll break your arms!
Honestly, there's nothing I detest
more than someone taking liberties
with a fine gentleman like yourself.
Oh, it's you again, Mr. Robinson.
Yes, I'm afraid so.
Well, I'm having my lunch just now.
If you want an appointment,
perhaps you'll be good enough to see my secretary.
By the way, how did you get in?
Oh, no problem, really.
Just a question of using your head.
I waited in the courtyard till I saw her go out to lunch.
It all seems a bit elaborate.
Yeah, perhaps, but...
You're the one I wanted to see.
I thought I'd already explained to you that we cannot help you.
Oh, come on now.
I know that you can be most helpful when you try.
Look, Mr. Robinson, you want women of a specific type.
How shall I put it?
Certain peculiarities appeal to you,
and you need women to submit to them.
Here we have, I'm afraid, a very normal clientele.
As I say, we can do nothing for you.
And now if you'll kindly let me get on with my lunch.
I don't think you're really trying your best for me.
I mean, if you can fix up a lot of idiots, then why not me? Hmm?
I've explained. You're different.
How so?
I have my good points.
I like flowers and...
Fruit.
People like me.
I've got things to give.
I'm sorry.
I thought matrimonial agencies were supposed to bring people together?
Not people like you.
Somehow I don't think our clients would appreciate
your conception of a loving relationship.
I get on with all sorts of people.
Good. Then you don't need us.
You're not the only matrimonial agency, you know.
Then go elsewhere.
Not that any reputable agency would service you.
I've been elsewhere.
But...
This one, for me, is the best,
because...
I like you.
You're my type of woman.
Don't be ridiculous.
I'm serious.
I respect a woman like you, and I know how to treat you as well.
You know, in my trade...
We have a saying.
We put it on the fruit.
"Don't squeeze the goods till they're yours."
Now, that's me.
I would never do that.
You know that, don't you?
Excuse me. I've just remembered a call I've got to make.
There's no need to call the police.
What made you think I was going to call the police?
Just intuition, I suppose.
Oh, English?
Yeah, of course it is.
That's a very frugal lunch you've got there.
Frugal...
And mean.
Certainly not enough to support a lady with your opulent figure.
Rather too opulent, I'm afraid, these days, hence the frugality.
Why don't you come out and have a slap-up lunch with me?
No, I really can't leave the office just now.
I'd buy you the best lunch in town.
No, I c...
All right.
It's a deal.
You mean it? You'll come and have lunch with me?
Of course.
Just let me wash my hands.
I thought we were going to lunch.
Yes, of course we're going to lunch.
Afterwards.
Ah!
All right. I know what you want, but not here.
Let's go back to my place.
But this is your place. You've got nothing to worry about here.
No, my secretary may come back any minute.
Really?
How long do you give her to eat her frugal lunch?
Fifteen minutes. She may be here any minute.
The outside door is locked.
She's got her own key.
I don't believe you.
Do you know what happens to wicked girls who tell wicked lies?
Oh.
Don't worry.
You've got nothing to worry about.
Leave me alone. Please!
Take the money out of my bag, but please, leave me alone.
In my bag there's, there's enough money there
to buy any woman you want. It's yours.
Take it! Just take it!
I don't buy women. It's you I want.
You're my type.
You are. Yes.
You are my type of woman.
Please, let me answer the telephone.
If you don't, the caller will come around here in person.
I told you, I locked the outer door. We won't be disturbed.
Oh, God!
Leave me alone.
All right. All right, I won't struggle.
But I like you to struggle.
A lot of women like to struggle.
Please, don't tear my dress.
I'll take it off if you like.
Lovely.
"Thou shall not be afraid for the terror by night..."
Lovely.
"Nor for the arrow which flieth by day..."
Lovely.
"Nor for the pestilence which walketh in darkness..."
Lovely!
"Nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday..."
Lovely.
"He shall give his angels charge over thee
"to guard thee in all thy ways."
Lovely!
Lovely.
You bitch!
Women!
They're all the same.
They are.
I'll show you.
My God! The tie!
Dear Jesus, help me. Help me.
Hello?
Anyone there?
Brenda, it's Richard.
Hello.
Hello, Globe?
May I speak to Barbara Milligan?
Is that you, Blaney?
Listen, you've got a bloody nerve
ringin' up here in my busiest time.
I don't know where she is. She's probably in the other bar.
I most certainly will not nip 'round and fetch her.
She's busy and so am I...
Hello, Dickie. Is that you?
Get a move on. It's not a lonely hearts club.
Here, guv. Give us a pint.
Yeah?
I'm fine. How are you?
I'm okay. Look, I need my things,
but I don't particularly fancy meeting Forsythe.
Do you think you could pack 'em up,
and put 'em in my bag and meet me this afternoon?
Are you sure?
It'd be great if you could, but I don't want to mess things up for you.
Don't worry. It's my half-day today, silly. Where shall I meet you?
I'll be opposite the Leicester Square Odeon, 4:00. Okay?
Okay, at 4:00. I've gotta run now. Bye.
Don't start lending him money. You'll never get it back.
Why don't you mind your own business.
He's no good for you, Babs. And you are?
Hey, guv! Take a whiff of this!
How far from here was the place you had lunch, Miss Barling?
About five or 10 minutes.
Good afternoon, sir.
Good afternoon, one and all.
This is Miss Barling, sir.
Sergeant Spearman, would you do the honors?
Certainly, sir.
The murdered woman is a Mrs. Brenda Blaney.
She ran this business here, sir,
and was found by her secretary, Miss Barling,
on her return from lunch at approximately 2:00, sir.
Afternoon.
Afternoon, sir.
Has Miss Barling any ideas?
She certainly has, sir.
She says she saw the murdered woman's ex-husband
leaving the building just as she came back, sir.
I saw him clear as day. It was Blaney, all right.
He came out of the door downstairs and walked down the alley.
The beast!
I'm sorry, Miss Barling. I must press you.
Are you sure it was Mr. Blaney?
Absolutely! I'd know him anywhere.
You see, he came here yesterday afternoon, and was perfectly horrid.
He'd been drinking and insisted on seeing Mrs. Blaney.
And did he see her?
Yes. She'd never turn anyone away, not even him.
What happened?
Oh, I don't know.
They started having a row almost immediately,
and Mrs. Blaney came out and said I might go.
Well, quite naturally I didn't want to embarrass her, so I left.
As I did so, I couldn't help overhearing
that Mr. Blaney was becoming very violent,
both in his language and his behavior.
Did he strike Mrs. Blaney?
Yes, I think so.
There was the sound of a blow.
I see.
Miss Barling, could you describe Mr. Blaney for us?
What he looked like, what he was wearing and so on.
Well, yes, I think I can.
He was a man in his 30s, about an inch or so under 6' tall.
He had dark hair, green eyes and a mustache.
I estimate his weight at about 155 pounds.
He was wearing a rather old-fashioned jacket
with leather patches on the shoulders and at the elbows.
In my opinion, it was quite unsuitable for London.
He was also carrying a raincoat.
That's an extraordinarily precise description, Miss Barling.
In my job I've learned to keep a sharp eye on men, Inspector.
Excuse me.
I found this handbag on the desk,
and there's no sign of any money.
That doesn't make sense.
I cashed a check for £50 for her at the bank only yesterday lunchtime.
It makes perfect sense to me. Where does she keep her money in this bag?
Sometimes she zips it in the pocket.
Have this face powder identified, will you, Sergeant?
There might be some on the stolen money. We might be lucky.
All right, sir.
What about fingerprints?
With all the clowns who come in here, sir, there'll be dozens.
Coburg Hotel, Bayswater.
Hey, wait a moment. How can you afford a hotel?
I'll tell you later.
Okay.
So, what you been up to, Dick?
Well, last night...
I allowed myself to be pampered
by the handmaidens of a Salvation Army hostel.
I tell you, after mixing with some of the types in there,
one's clothing needs fumigation.
Smell that.
Phew!
You mean you slept there?
Yeah. Spasmodically.
What? With all the old men?
Yes, that's it.
We had a high old time. The conversation was mature,
the Red Biddy flowed down the odd throats,
and the good fellowship of the open road prevailed.
Red Biddy. What's that?
Blended red wine. Half vino, half mentholated spirits.
But why, Dick?
Reasonable terms for bachelors, that's why.
30 pence a night, in fact.
I don't understand. I mean...
How can you afford the Coburg?
Well, I managed to get some money.
Since last night? Yeah.
I collected an old debt.
Oh. That was lucky.
Yeah.
Okay.
Thank you.
Double room, please.
What are you up to? Not here!
Would that be with two singles, or the matrimonial-size bed?
The mat... Double bed. Please.
Yes. I see.
322 should suit you. The Cupid Room.
Really?
Yes. It's very cozy.
If you'll just sign the register.
Yes, of course.
"Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Wilde."
Now, look here, Dick Blaney!
Oscar, if you don't mind.
Dick, will you stop playing games? I can't possibly...
Excuse me. That'll be £10, plus service charge of £2.
Perhaps you'd care to settle now?
There we are. Thank you.
Room, please?
322, Bertie.
Follow me, please.
You've got 322. That's nice.
Yes. The Cupid Room, I think she called it.
Love's little arrows have struck
quite a few hearts in there, sir, I can tell you.
Oh, yeah.
Can I get you anything from the pharmacy, sir?
No, thank you.
Ta. Thank you, sir.
-Hey! -Sir?
Hang on. Can you send this to the cleaners for me?
Certainly, sir. And this.
Tell them that it's urgent.
And might as well take the other half as well.
Tell them that I want them sprayed.
Sprayed, sir? With what?
DDT, my good man. What else?
Sir?
Death to the lurking roach, porter.
Confusion to the insidious louse.
Get 'em cleaned and pressed, eh?
Yes, sir.
Oh, dear!
Hey, Glad, take a look at this.
Oh! Oh, that poor woman.
It's the jacket, Glad, I'm talkin' about. The jacket! See what it says?
"The police are anxious to interview a man
"seen leaving the matrimonial agency
"about the time of the murder.
"When last seen he was wearing a tweed jacket
"with leather patches on the shoulders and elbows
"and carrying a raincoat."
That's a funny way to patch a jacket.
It's meant to be like that, Glad.
The party in 322 was wearin' it.
Do you mean... Do you mean Mr. Oscar Wilde?
That's not his real name, silly. Oscar Wilde, indeed!
He's the fellow the police are looking for.
Don't you see? He's the necktie murderer.
And we've got him upstairs at this very minute!
Oh, dear! I only hope that girl
isn't wearing a necktie at this very moment.
I can't believe it! Not in the Cupid Room!
You know, Glad, sometimes just thinkin' about the lusts of men
makes me want to heave.
Hello. Will you give me the police, please?
Hello, police?
I'm the porter of the Coburg Hotel, Bayswater.
Could you come at once? I've got this fellow you're looking for here.
You know, the necktie murderer.
He came here with a girl.
Come away, Glad. You're not to do anything suspicious.
Open up!
Open up! Police!
They must've gone down the back stairs.
But I ask you, in all conscience,
is it likely I would murder a woman
I'd been married to for 10 years?
If it was true, it would be horrible.
And rape her, after 10 years of marriage? Violently rape her?
I don't know. I'm always hearing of kinky things.
Perhaps you was jealous of her.
Of Brenda? Oh, come off it.
I didn't know Brenda. It's possible.
Maybe you just wanted to get rid of her.
But I had got rid of her.
We were divorced, remember. We had been for two years.
There was no question of alimony. She earned far more than me.
You got that money from her, didn't you? You never collected a debt.
Well, yes, I did.
But she gave it to me the night before when we had dinner.
20 pounds.
Why lie about it, then?
I suppose I was ashamed to admit it, that's all.
That makes sense, I suppose.
But here, wait a mo.
If Brenda gave you the money at dinner,
why'd you sleep in the doss-house?
You could've afforded a hotel.
I didn't realize that I had it.
She slipped it into the pocket of my raincoat.
Oh, go on, Dick.
Why don't you pull the other one? It's got bells on it.
But it's true!
I suppose she didn't want to embarrass me.
You've got to admit it is pretty tall.
Well, it's not as tall as me sleeping
in a doss-house with 20 quid in my pocket!
If I knew I had it, I'd never have gone there, would I?
Maybe.
Maybe! You smelled that jacket!
Would you sleep there if you didn't have to?
It wasn't that bad, that jacket.
I still think it's a bit suspicious,
your sending it to the cleaners.
Suspicious of what?
In them sex cases, they always do a lab test on the clothes.
It stank to high heaven!
That's why. You know it did.
Barbara, I swear I'm telling the truth.
Now, do I look like a sex murderer to you?
Can you imagine me creeping around London,
strangling all those women with ties?
That's ridiculous.
For a start, I only own two.
Well, it's true. That jacket was a bit smelly and...
I suppose if you had known about the money,
you wouldn't have stayed with a lot of old men like that.
Then you believe me?
Thousands wouldn't.
Thanks.
I must be soft in the head lettin' a suspected strangler
put his arms around me.
Shows you trust me.
I suppose so.
Hey, what we gonna do? The police will be looking for you!
I don't know. I haven't thought yet.
Well, there's only one thing you can do.
Go and see 'em. Tell them what happened, like you told me.
No, I can't do that.
You've got to!
They'd never believe me.
Why not? I did.
You're not the law. I'm probably their only suspect.
You just have to go along and persuade them to search for someone else.
I mean, one look at you and they'd know you wasn't a sadistic killer.
Blaney!
Come on!
Dicko!
Haven't done any of this cloak-and-dagger stuff since the Suez business.
That's when I first met Dicko, in the squadron, you know.
He was a bit of a split-assed type then too.
Hetty, you remember Dicko, don't you?
Of course. Come in.
And... This is Miss Milligan.
Hello, Miss Milligan.
Pleased to meet you.
I bumped into them in the park.
How fortunate!
We haven't seen you in ages, Dick.
How's Brenda? Do you still hear from her?
Well, she's dead, I'm afraid.
Yes.
And you killed her!
Steady on, Hetty. He didn't do it.
He's just been telling me all about it.
Has he, now?
You see, he was seen near the place where Brenda was murdered.
So the police think he's the strangler chap. But he's not, of course.
All he wants is a place to hide out.
And you suggested he should stay here.
Well, yes. It seemed a good idea.
Nobody ever knows who's staying here.
You're a bloody fool, Johnny, getting yourself involved like this.
But he didn't do it.
Of course he did it!
What, old Dicko?
Yes, old Dicko, the chivalrous knight of the skies!
He always treated her like a shit!
Really, Hetty, I think you're absolutely wrong.
Don't you remember that disgusting divorce petition?
The things you did to her!
Divorce petition?
Oh, didn't he tell you?
Did he forget to mention he was divorced from his wife
on the grounds of extreme cruelty?
Thank you very much.
Well, is it true?
Yes!
Both extreme mental and physical cruelty.
Depravity was mentioned, I think.
It had to read that way, but there wasn't a word of truth in it!
The lawyers made the whole thing up.
You see neither of us wanted to wait three years
until I could get a divorce on the grounds of desertion,
so I allowed her to divorce me on the grounds of cruelty.
Extreme cruelty.
I wonder if the police have read a copy of it.
My God!
Yes, I'm sure they'll be fascinated.
He's innocent, Mrs. Porter, I know he is.
You know it? How do you know it?
Well, as you say, they'd been divorced.
There was no call for him to do her in.
There's no spiteful act I'd put past old Dicko here,
especially if he were drunk.
Were you drunk when you did it? Was that it?
I didn't do it, Hetty.
I didn't do it! I swear!
Then why don't you go to the police
and explain to them instead of involving Johnny?
I didn't want to involve him. He insisted.
That's right, I did. Can't abandon a chap in trouble.
I still say, why don't you go to the police and inform them?
They'd never believe him, that's why.
He's the only suspect they've got, poor lamb,
and with all the evidence against him,
they'd lock him up without so much as a by-your-leave.
Oh, please hide him, Mrs. Porter, just for tonight,
until we can think what's best to do.
Of course we'll hide him. Can't throw an old comrade to the cops.
Well, if you want to be arrested for harboring a wanted man
or subverting the course of justice or whatever,
on your own head be it, Johnny.
But I wash my hands of the matter.
Thank God we're off to Paris tomorrow morning.
That's all I can say.
That is, if we're not all in jail! I'm going shopping.
Perhaps I'd better go.
Nonsense, old chap.
Don't worry about Hetty. I'll calm her down. You can use the sofa tonight.
I must be off. I'm ever so late already.
What do you do, Miss Milligan?
I work in a pub.
Same place he used to be.
Really?
Why don't both of you slip out of the country
till this whole thing's blown over?
Come and give me a hand at the Bulldog.
Bulldog?
It's an English pub I've opened in Paris. They're the new thing there.
That's a great idea. Why don't we?
Not likely. I never was any good at French.
Well, you don't have to be. It's an English pub.
As long as you can say non, you'll be all right.
Well...
Come on, Babs.
You don't like the Globe any more than I did.
Look, meet me at Victoria Station
tomorrow morning, 11:00, by the flower stall.
We can shoot down to the coast and get a day trip to France.
You don't need a passport.
Okay.
Splendid!
Froggies will roll over and die
at the sight of a real English barmaid.
I must go now, really. You know Forsythe.
Mum's the word, eh? Don't tell a soul I'm here.
Cross me heart and hope to die.
Thanks for lookin' after him.
Not at all, my dear.
I'll come see you to the lift.
Enjoying that, are you, sir?
Sergeant, my wife is currently taking a course
at the Continental School of Gourmet Cooking.
Apparently they've never heard of the principle,
"To eat well in this country, one must have breakfast three times a day."
And an English breakfast at that.
I don't mean your café complet.
Beg pardon, sir?
It's a cup of coffee half an inch deep
in floating bits of boiled milk, and a sweet bun full of air.
That's what I had this morning.
I see what you mean, sir.
I'm a... A Quaker Oats man, myself.
Excuse me, sir.
This has just come in.
It's the lab report on the £10 note
that Blaney used to pay the hotel bill with.
Yes.
Well, as you'll see, the note bore traces of face powder
identical to that which we found in Mrs. Blaney's handbag.
Thank you.
Thank you, sir.
Well, Sergeant, we were in luck after all.
Yes, sir. That just about does it for him, I'd say.
Looks very much like it.
I've never run into any of these jokers before, sir.
What are they like?
Oh, they vary, but not a lot.
The important thing to remember is
they hate women, and are mostly impotent.
Impotent?
Don't mistake rape for potency, Sergeant.
In the latter stage of the disease,
it's the strangling, not the sex, that brings them on.
Above all, of course, they're sadists.
You know what they are, Sergeant, I'm sure.
Oh, yes, sir.
And if you don't, you can read all about it in there,
Mrs. Blaney's divorce petition.
It tells you a great deal about the habits of our hero.
Yeah?
Right. Put him on.
Yes, Chief Inspector Oxford speaking.
My name is Forsythe, Inspector. Felix Forsythe.
I run the Globe Public House, Covent Garden.
Now, I see from the newspaper you're in charge of these strangling cases.
Yes, Mr. Forsythe, that is so.
Good, because I've got some information to impart.
Now, this man you're looking for,
the one with the patches on his suit.
I know him. He worked here as a barman.
His name is Richard Blaney. He's a right bastard.
Are you quite certain it's the same man?
Gone off with your barmaid? What exactly do you mean by "gone off"?
Well, she's been out all night with him and hasn't yet returned.
And I felt it my duty to tell you
that I consider her to be in great danger.
That is, of course, if she's still alive and kicking.
Well, thank you for your information, Mr. Forsythe.
Tell me, what does this barmaid of yours look like?
Well, then, I can set your mind at rest on one point at least.
She was alive and running at 8:00 this morning.
8:00 this morning?
Well, where is she now? We opened at 11:00!
What I want to know is, is she coming back here or not?
She's left all her clothes here.
I expect she'll turn up sooner or later.
These days, ladies abandon their honor
far more readily than their clothes.
Thank you for your information, Mr. Forsythe.
I'll send someone over.
That was Forsythe,
manager of the Globe Public House, Covent Garden.
Well, I tell you what, Jim, I'm glad I'm not in the potato business.
Got enough troubles of me own.
Yeah, you're not a bad judge, Bob.
The potato business is poison, always was.
It costs a fortune to dig 'em up,
another fortune to transport them.
And what do you have at the end? Hardly any money for them.
Mostly you can't sell them.
I've got to send a truckload back up to Lincolnshire tonight.
And what will they do with them?
They'll plow them back in.
Can you beat it?
And they say there's people hungry in this world.
True, Jim.
And there are a few thirsty as well.
Come on, have one with your Uncle Bob.
Good afternoon!
Just a minute. Where do you think you've been?
Your half-day was yesterday afternoon, not this morning.
You took a hell of a chance, didn't you,
spending the night with a murderer?
How do you know I spent the night with anyone?
Now come off it.
You took his clothes to him. You didn't come home. It stands to reason.
Why don't you mind your own bleeding business?
Don't talk to me like that, girl.
I was worried about you. I thought you might be next.
I even phoned the police.
Police? Yeah. They wanna talk to you.
They're sending a fella over from Scotland Yard.
Why?
Why? Because they want your lover. That's why.
They wanna pick him up and put him
where he can't strangle any more women!
And you'd better help 'em.
The sooner that madman's behind bars the better.
Don't you talk about him like that!
You don't realize how lucky you are to be alive!
Christ Almighty, Babs,
if I wasn't shorthanded, I'd take you down to Scotland Yard myself!
As it is, right after closing time...
I won't be here!
And you can stuff your rotten job right up your jacksy!
Come back, you!
Oh, balls!
Got a place to stay?
Oh, it's you, Bob.
Yeah.
I heard that ding-dong you had with Forsythe.
Oh, he's a right bastard.
Well, of course he is.
You can stay at my place
till you get something sorted out, if you want.
I won't be in your way. I'm going up north for a few days.
No strings?
Now, do I look like that sort of a bloke?
All blokes are that sort of a bloke.
Are you really goin' away?
Sure! Tonight.
You can have the place to yourself. I'll take you there now.
And if you like, I'll go back to the Globe
and pick up your stuff for you.
Now, I can't say fairer than that, can I?
Oh, thanks, Bob.
I'll just stay the one night if you don't mind.
Suit yourself.
Tomorrow I'm gonna go to...
I'm going to my sister in Southall.
Leaving your boyfriend in the lurch a bit, aren't you?
He has to make up his own mind what to do.
Well, you know, I'd like to help him if I could. Where's he hiding out?
I can't tell you, Bob. I promised. Oh.
Come on, Babs.
Dick and me have always been mates. You know that.
I can't.
All right. Keep your little secret.
You know, changing jobs can be a blessing in disguise.
It gets you out of a rut.
A girl like you ought to travel, see the world a bit.
The Cape, California, Jaffa. Where the fruit comes from,
that's where I'd like to go if I wasn't tied down here.
But you, you can do as you please!
You've got the whole of your life ahead of you.
Here we are. I'm on the second floor.
I don't know if you know it, Babs,
but you're my type of woman.
Is that you, Tim?
Hello, dear.
Hungry?
Yes. Good.
I'll bring it right in.
It's a soupe de poisson, dear.
I know you'll enjoy it.
Say, I have no doubt of it.
Don't wait for me. I'm just going to see to the next course.
Well...
What's new in the case? Any sensational breaks?
No. I'll be glad when we get Mr. Richard Blaney inside, though.
Any idea where he is?
No, our only lead to him left her job this morning.
What's more, I don't know where she is either.
You're certain he's the one?
Oh, yes, he's the one, all right.
There's not even the complication of another suspect.
It has to be him.
We have him identified as leaving the matrimonial agency
at the time his ex was killed.
We have the clothes which he found necessary
to send to the cleaners in a hurry.
And we have the evidence of the face powder in the Salvation Army hostel.
I don't follow you, my dear.
I didn't think the Salvation Army girls used makeup.
No, Blaney slept in a Salvation Army hostel the night before last.
Did he, dear?
Yes.
He was incautious enough to tell them his name.
I don't think an ex-RAF officer would sleep in such a place
unless he was broke, do you?
No, I don't.
So, let's assume he was.
Last night, however, he slept in the...
Coburg Hotel in Bayswater
and paid for his extremely expensive room with a £10 note.
The note bore traces of the same face powder
we found in Mrs. Blaney's handbag.
I mean, the murderer not only strangled Mrs. Blaney,
he stole money from her handbag as well.
Ergo...
Blaney is the thief and also the murderer.
That ties it up then.
Well, I think so.
And furthermore, there is a waitress
at Mrs. Blaney's club who can also testify
to Blaney's aggressive behavior
towards his wife the previous night.
He doesn't seem to have been very discreet, does he?
No. Discretion is not traditionally
the strong suit of the psychopath, dear.
Believe me, that's what we're dealing with.
You ought to read his wife's divorce petition.
What exactly is in this soup?
Why? Don't you like it?
Mmm.
It's delicious.
But I find the...
Ingredients are somewhat mystifying.
They're smelts, ling,
conger eel, John Dory,
pilchards and frogfish.
And now, since that must've been fairly satisfying,
I thought a simple roast bird would be enough.
Caille aux raisins.
Hmm?
Quail with...
Grapes.
I must say, I'm very worried.
About Mr. Blaney? Yes.
He's gone off with a barmaid he used to work with.
I think she's in very great danger.
You're wrong, Tim. Absolutely wrong.
It can't be this fellow.
How long did you say he was married?
Ten years.
Well, there you are.
A crime de passion after all that time?
Look at us. We've only been married eight years,
and you can hardly keep your eyes open at night.
Well, that as may be.
But I don't knock you about or make you do degrading things.
No, the evidence speaks for itself.
Besides, you can't make normal judgments about psychopathic killers.
They can be triggered off at any time.
We've got to find him before his...
Appetite is whetted again.
Christ all-bloody-mighty!
See you, mate.
You bitch! Where's that bloody pin?
Hey, you're spilling your load!
What?
The potatoes. They're falling on the road.
Argh!
Hey, do you see what I see?
Here, what's wrong...
Who is it?
Perhaps you can tell us.
-Wake up! -What?
Get out of here.
What is it?
Brenda wasn't enough for you.
You had to kill another girl too!
What girl? You know, all right.
That girl you brought here yesterday.
Babs?
As if you didn't know.
You strangled her like all the others!
She's been strangled?
Don't you play act with me. Get up and get out of here.
I'd call the police myself if I knew
how to do it without getting involved.
I don't believe it. I just don't believe it.
It's true, Dicko. It just came over on the radio.
They found her in a potato truck in Lincolnshire.
The fellow at the pub where you worked identified her.
He knows where they found her. He put her there!
What are you talking about? I haven't left this room all night.
Liar. I don't believe you.
Hetty, it doesn't matter whether you believe him or not,
because it said on the radio that Miss Milligan
had been dead for at least 12 hours
when they found her at 3:00 this morning.
Now, that means that she must've been killed
before 3:00 yesterday afternoon.
And Dick was here with us from the time she left
to the time we went to bed.
So he couldn't have done it.
Poor kid.
I still don't believe it.
They're only guessing when she was killed.
We didn't go to bed till 11:00,
and Dick was here with us then.
They can't be eight hours adrift.
Hey, Dicko?
Don't you see what this means? You're in the clear! We can give you an alibi.
Yes. Yes, I suppose you can.
But there's no supposing.
Yeah, and we'll simply tell the police you were here with us.
Would you do that? Would you do it now before you go away?
Of course, old boy. Delighted.
You'll do no such thing!
What?
Not unless you want to go to jail for harboring a wanted man.
But he's not a criminal.
Well, the police think he is!
And they have a lot of evidence against him.
Yes, but we know he didn't kill Miss Milligan.
We've got to tell them he was here with us.
But we don't know he didn't kill Miss Milligan!
For all we know the time given out
on the radio might've been a trap.
But what is certain, if you go to the police,
they will probably charge you with being an accessory after the fact.
And they certainly won't allow us to go abroad,
and they will probably put us in jail.
Well, Hetty's right, damn it.
I mean, you can see that, Dicko, can't you?
You mean you won't come to the police with me?
Well, I don't see how I can. I mean, you heard Hetty.
But you're my only alibi!
Well, I'm sorry, old chap.
You see, I've got to get to Paris today.
I can't afford to be kept here.
But you can afford to stand by and see me go to jail for life!
Is that it?
Well, it's not as bad as all that, old chap.
They'll find this strangler chappie pretty soon and they'll...
Of all the cowardly shits!
It's "I'm all right, Jack, and haul up the ladder," isn't it?
You pair of bastards!
Well, if that's how you feel after all we've done for you,
I think you better had go!
I'll call the manager.
And involve yourself?
Don't worry, I'm going.
I'm a little choosy with whom I spend my last hours of freedom.
Look, Dick, I'm sorry about all this.
I'd suggest that you came to Paris and worked in the pub,
but they're watching all the ports and stations.
It said so on the news.
Well, that lets you out then, doesn't it?
Your responsibility for me ends here.
Clear this area, please. Thank you, madam.
Stand back, please.
Looks as though we've got half the law in London
in the market this morning.
Yeah. It makes it very difficult to give short weight.
I suppose they're trying to find out
if anybody saw Blaney put in poor, old Babs on that potato truck.
You think he did it, do you?
It stands to reason, doesn't it?
Why? Don't you?
I'm not as eager as some to turn on my old mates.
What are you talkin' about? Blaney wasn't a mate of mine.
I suppose you know I had to sack him for stealin'.
Get off.
Yeah, Blaney was a thief, right bastard.
I even told that Chief Inspector,
but he didn't believe a word, did he?
Well, I expect he's laughing on the other side of his face now.
You reckon?
Yeah, definitely, definitely.
He wasn't so cocky when I saw him at 7:00 this morning.
I've just been down to Scotland Yard to identify her.
From photos, you know. They took 'em, and they...
Rushed 'em down special.
She wasn't a pretty sight, I can tell you.
Some people have all the luck.
Yeah. I better get a move on, I suppose.
Business will be pretty brisk today.
You know how morbid some people are.
Absolutely! Jumping up to identify dead girls at all hours of the morning.
See you later.
My God, Dick!
Whatcha doin' here?
Look, I'm sorry, Bob, but I had nowhere else to go.
The people I was staying with left for Paris this morning.
I wouldn't have come now,
except that you did say if I needed anything, anytime...
Yes, yes, of course!
But you took a hell of a chance coming here this morning.
The whole place is teeming with coppers. Wait a minute.
Well, you'd better hole up in my place for a day or two
till we get something sorted.
Yes. I thought maybe if you had the room.
I know it's a hell of an imposition
getting you involved and everything, but...
Well, you've got to believe me.
I haven't murdered anyone!
This whole business is insane! I mean, you know me.
I wouldn't get involved in anything like this.
Of course you wouldn't, Dick. No.
The police, as usual, have got the whole thing arse about face.
I mean, these sort of killings always boggle the mind.
That man must be a sexual maniac.
Mind you, there are some women who ask for everything they get.
But you? Don't make me laugh. You're not the type.
Now, don't worry.
You've done the right thing coming to your Uncle Bob.
Right. Well, let's get over to my place now.
You know where it is, don't you?
Yeah. Great.
I'll go first, and I'll take the bag.
You'll be less conspicuous that way. Okay.
You follow, but take the long way around.
Go down to the Strand, you know.
And then work your way up Southampton Street.
Okay? Yeah.
Well done, boy! Come in.
Make yourself comfortable.
Very cozy.
Yes, well, it's my little nest.
You know, my home.
Home is the place where when you have to go there, they have to take you in.
That's what my ol' mum used to say. You met my mum, didn't you?
Yes.
Great old lady.
I better get back to the shop. See you later, eh?
Yeah, sure.
There's something to eat in the kitchen. The booze is here.
So get on with it, right?
Bob, I'm really grateful for all this. You know that.
I told you, think nothing of it.
Hey, do me a favor, will you?
Keep away from the windows.
Yes, of course. Sorry.
Ta-ta.
And don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Are you Richard Ian Blaney?
Yes. What is this?
You're under arrest. Come quietly, and you won't get hurt.
Is this necessary?
We take no chances with bastards like you.
He's clean, sir. Is this your bag?
Come on, you. Yes.
Thank you, Mr. Rusk. You've been very helpful.
Anything to oblige, Sarge.
No reward, I'm afraid. Better luck next time, eh?
Well, you know what they say, Sarge, "Virtue is its own reward."
Well, if you want any more help, I'll be in my shop.
All right. We know where you are.
How's that kid of yours gettin' on with the violin?
Richard Ian Blaney?
Yes.
As the result of my inquiries, you'll be detained in connection
with the willful murders of Brenda Margaret Blaney,
Barbara Jane Milligan and others.
You're not obliged to say anything unless you wish.
But anything you do say will be taken down in writing
and may be used in evidence.
Mr. Oxford, could you spare a second over here?
Rusk. It's Rusk!
Hold him back. Where was this found?
Over at Henrietta Street where we picked him up, sir.
Any identification?
"Miss Barbara Milligan, Globe Public House. Covent Garden, London, WC2."
Are you agreed upon your verdict?
We are.
Do you find the prisoner, Richard Ian Blaney,
guilty or not guilty of the murder of Brenda...
... Ian Blaney,
you have been found guilty of a terrible crime.
On its ghastly and wicked nature I will not dwell.
I only tell you that you must entertain no expectation or hope
that you will escape the consequences of it.
The sentence of this court is that
you serve a term of life imprisonment
for not less than 25 years...
Rusk did it! I told you all along!
Rusk!
I keep telling you. Rusk, where are you?
One of these days, you bastard! Rusk...
Where are you? Rusk?
One of these days, I'm gonna get out and kill you, you bastard!
I've got nothing to lose now!
I might as well do what I'm being locked away for!
You remember that! You remember that!
Rusk did it.
Rusk did it! I told you all along!
Rusk? Rusk, where are you?
One of these days, I'm gonna get out and kill you, you bastard!
I've got nothing to lose now!
I might as well do what I'm being put away for.
You remember that! You remember that!
Do you see the sign, Hartletts? Yes, sir.
Well, it's the fair-haired chap
in the brown suit standing right underneath it.
Did you see him? Yes, I did.
Right. We'll go around once again,
and I want a good, close mug shot.
Yes, Inspector, I remember him well.
He came here on two or three occasions.
Every business has its own special cross to bear, I suppose.
And yours is men like this?
That is so.
Most of them are easy enough to get rid of, but...
Mr. Robinson here was particularly insistent.
He simply wouldn't take no for an answer.
Mr. Robinson?
Yes, that is the man's name.
Here we are.
Mr. William Robinson.
You see, Inspector,
he wanted us to find women for him who enjoyed...
Well, certain peculiarities.
You mean, who were sexual masochists? Who enjoyed being hurt?
That sort of thing?
Quite.
Perhaps you'd better see it for yourself.
Naturally we told him we couldn't oblige,
but as I say, he kept coming back.
Is it likely, do you think,
that if Mr. Robinson couldn't get what he wanted from your agency,
he would go to others?
Oh, yes, very likely.
Men like this leave no stone unturned
in their search for their disgusting gratifications.
Excuse me, Inspector.
Do you have any special reason for seeing Mr. Robinson?
Yes, Miss Barling, we do.
And I'd like you to keep my visit confidential.
Of course.
Get the doctor quick.
It looks like an ambulance job.
I told you it wasn't Blaney, didn't I?
I told you you were on the wrong track.
A woman's intuition is worth more than all those laboratories.
I can't think why you don't teach it in police colleges.
So you think it's Rusk, do you? You think he's our man?
Well, of course. Anyone can see that.
He knew both Mrs. Blaney and that Barbara what's-her-name, didn't he?
Yes.
Well, there you are.
You told me the man's a sexual pervert.
That's why he kept the clothes and put them in poor Mr. Blaney's case.
We have no proof of that.
It stands to reason.
Don't you mean intuition?
What does your intuition tell you I want for dinner tonight?
Steak and a baked potato.
But you're getting pied de porc à la mode de Caens.
It looks like a pig's foot!
That's what it is.
I put it in the same sauce the French use for tripe.
That's comforting.
Well...
When are you going to arrest this Mr. Robinson, or Rusk,
or whatever he's called?
When I have the proof I need.
It takes a little longer to acquire than intuitive insights.
How much longer? When will you have it?
In a few minutes I hope, dear.
Really?
You old slyboots. Tell.
Well...
We know that if Rusk is the murderer,
he traveled up in the potato truck with his victim.
How do we know that?
Did you ever hear of a corpse that cut itself out of a tied sack?
What would he want to take the corpse out of the sack for?
Well, obviously, he was looking for something.
How do we know that?
Well, the corpse was deep in rigor mortis.
He had to break the fingers of the right hand to retrieve what they held.
You know, it would be so nice to get back to plain bread in this house.
What do you think they held?
A locket? A broach? A cross!
It had to be something that would incriminate him.
Something that he missed when he put the body on the truck.
A monogrammed handkerchief, perhaps.
Not a cross, I think.
Well...
I don't see why not.
Religious and sexual mania are closely linked.
Anyway, whatever it was, he found it,
which was unlucky for us.
But we did have one piece of good fortune.
The truck driver told us that he stopped at one place on his journey,
and that was at a pull-in somewhere out of London.
A pull-in? Mmm.
It's a cafe frequented by truck drivers, dear.
They serve humble foods like bacon and egg sandwiches,
sausages and mashed potatoes and cups of tea and coffee.
How is it so fortunate that this driver stopped there?
Well, it's not so much that he stopped,
but that he stopped only once that is important.
The only place our man could've escaped
from that truck was at that cafe.
I sent Sergeant Spearman out there earlier today
to see if he could find anyone who could remember Rusk being there.
I'm expecting him back at any minute.
Well, eat up, dear. You'll want to be finished by the time he arrives.
Tasty, very tasty.
Not a lot of meat on it, mind.
No sense in gorging, dear.
I'll take mine and eat it
while I'm beating my egg whites for the soufflé.
Good evening, Sergeant. Good evening, sir.
I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner.
No, not at all. Come in.
Thank you, sir.
Put your hat and coat on the sofa.
Good evening, Sergeant Spearman. What would you like to drink?
Good evening, madam. Well, I don't know that I...
Oh, that's all right, Spearman. You're off duty, now.
How about a margarita?
It's delicious.
Tequila, triple sec,
fresh lemon juice and salt pressed 'round the rim of the glass.
You'll love it.
Thank you, madam.
Sergeant Spearman, you are positively
glutinous with self-approbation.
You might as well speak out.
Yes, sir.
The woman behind the counter at the cafe
positively identified Rusk from the photo I showed her
as being a man who called at the café
the night the body was discovered.
And that's not all.
What are you waiting for, Sergeant? A roll of drums?
No, sir. Sorry, sir.
The woman also said that Rusk was disheveled and very dusty
and asked to borrow a clothes brush.
This is the brush she lent him, sir.
You see there?
What do you say, Spearman? Potato dust?
Here you are, Sergeant.
Cheers.
Cheers, madam.
Did you hear all that?
Yes, I told you. I knew all the time.
Quite.
Get this down to the lab as soon as possible, will you?
Very good, sir.
It rather looks like we put the wrong man away this time.
What do you mean "we"? You put him away.
All right, Spearman, you can get along now.
Good night, madam.
You haven't finished your drink.
I'm sorry, madam. I have to get down to the lab in a hurry.
Good night, Spearman. Good work. Very good work.
Thank you, sir.
Poor Mr. Blaney.
You've got to get him out, Tim, immediately.
He's in hospital at the moment.
But I'll talk to the assistant commissioner in the morning
and get the case reopened.
He won't like it, but there's quite enough evidence for a pardon.
Will they give him any compensation?
I expect they'll give him some money,
but there's no real way to compensate in cases like these.
Poor man.
I think the least you can do is ask him 'round for a really good dinner.
Let's see.
It will obviously have to be something substantial.
I think a Caneton aux cerises.
What's that?
Duckling...
With heavy sweet cherry sauce.
Well, after that jail food he's been having,
I expect he'll eat anything.
Excuse me.
I must see if my soufflé's started to rise.
Hey!
Are the pills working?
He's sleeping like a baby.
Do you think we gave him enough?
Christ, mate, he's had half a dozen.
Good. Now I'm off to get that bastard, Rusk!
All right, all right. Let's make sure.
It's now or never! I'm due back inside tomorrow.
George? George!
All right, George.
Right, son, better be going. Mind you, do him up good.
Here, take this strip of mica.
You may need it to open his door. It might be locked.
Doctor? Sister?
Get a trolley, nurse.
Well, Sister, there seems to be
no evidence of a cerebral accident.
We'll have to admit him for observation and then sort it out.
Could he be an epileptic or a diabetic?
Not very likely in his sort of job.
We're certainly going to need blood samples.
Sleeping pills! They've given him all their sleeping pills.
Good night. Good night, sir.
Hello?
Good God! When was this?
Right. What's that?
Yes. Five minutes. I'll wait outside.
I'm off! Blaney's escaped, and I bet I know where he's gone.
I often wondered whether Blaney threw himself down those stairs
in a suicide attempt or just as a means to get into the hospital.
And now, of course, we have our answer.
No. No! It's not...
Mr. Rusk.
You're not wearing your tie.
I...