Yes?
Yes, yes.
Yes, where is he?
Well find him then.
Search the city.
Let me know the moment
you hear anything.
Oh, Dr. Manet, come in.
What's this about Henri Cassin
disappearing? The whole bureau's upset.
He was supposed to leave on his holiday.
- Philippe was to drive him to...
- St. Margot.
Yes, they were to leave
over an hour ago.
Is that any cause for alarm?
Surely the Suret's best detective
can take care of himself.
Oh, but he wouldn't do this
when he has an appointment.
- Something must have happened to him.
- In broad daylight in Paris?
Calm yourself, Commissaire.
As official Police Physician, I warn you,
your blood pressure won't stand this.
But you know how Henri is.
He would go without sleep endlessly day
after day when he's engaged in a chase.
He is the most relentless machine
I have ever known.
His mind is so single-tracked
that... at times he even seems
stupid and sluggish.
And he's so utterly fixed in purpose
that he would turn in his own mother
if he were convinced of her guilt!
He's my most valuable man.
I can't afford to lose him!
Once he's safely out of Paris
where nothing can happen,
I won't worry, but...
where is he now?
Good morning! a va.
- Your paper.
- Merci.
Shine, monsieur.
No.
- I would make your shoes look beautiful.
- But I don't want any shine.
This is not a day for work,
mon petit.
Oh, merci monsieur!
Merci beaucoup!
Given like a true Frenchman.
- Good morning, monsieur.
- Good morning.
- May I help you?
- No thanks, I'm just looking.
- We have lovely wild flowers, and...
- No, no thanks.
They are beautiful.
Henri, where have you been?
It's such a wonderful day! The...
I went for a stroll.
- Hello, Doctor.
- Hello, Henri.
Have you forgotten?
You were to leave for the country today!
How could I?
My first vacation in 11 years?
All the arrangements have been made
by Dr. Manet at a small hotel in the...
In the village of St. Margot.
I have a friend, Dr. Boncourt,
who practices there.
- Just the place for you, Henri.
- Thank you very much, Doctor.
Well, I wanted to look
at Paris before I left.
Philippe is waiting for you.
- I'll leave at once.
- Henri...
I'll miss you, but... just relax
and enjoy life for a change, yeah?
Don't come back until you feel like it.
- Thank you, monsieur. A bientt!
- A bientt!
Mmm...
Monsieur Cassin?
Monsieur Cassin!
I am Dr. Boncourt.
- Welcome to St. Margot!
- Oh, yes.
Dr. Manet's friend.
It's really good of you to be here.
You... you are Monsieur Cassin?
- Yes.
- That's Nanette. Nanette Michaud.
She's a great admirer of your work.
It's really good of you.
You are Monsieur Cass...
Maman! Papa! He's here!
This is Madame Bridelle,
the housekeeper.
- She'll take excellent care of you.
- I hope I won't be too much bother.
You want to beware of her,
Monsieur Cassin.
She's an antsy woman and a widow.
- Oh, Doctor...
- A widow? It's really good of you.
Monsieur?
I mean how sad.
You see Papa and Maman Michaud
took me in
when my husband was killed
in a hunting accident.
- I'm sorry.
- Pierre!
Pierre!
Monsieur Cassin!
Ooh!
Monsieur Cassin.
- I'm Pierre Michaud and this is my wife.
- Madame.
Monsieur Cassin,
I'm sure we'll do everything possible
to make your stay
a happy one and a comfortable one.
I know you will.
This is very, very nice indeed.
That is all, Philippe. Thanks very much.
Give my regards to the Commissaire.
- I will, sir. Have a splendid holiday.
- Thank you.
- I'll see you again.
- I'm certain, monsieur.
- Monsieur Cassin, this way if you please.
- Thank you.
I must run now, Maman.
Oh, au revoir, Docteur.
Perhaps he will enjoy a glass of wine
after his journey.
Oh, don't you worry,
we'll take very good care of him.
Au revoir, Docteur.
Wait, where are you going with that?
- Monsieur Cassin. The doctor said...
- Never mind. I'll take care of that.
I said never mind!
Nanette?
- Nanette!
- Yes, Maman?
- Hurry, child!
- All right, Maman.
Come, child. Hurry.
Yes, Maman.
I want you to take the wine
to Monsieur Cassin in his room.
- Oh, yes, Maman.
- Nanette, look at your hair.
He must be very well fixed.
And he's from Paris!
And not as old as you expected, either.
I think he's interested in you.
- Make the most of it, chrie.
- Yes, Maman.
- Nanette.
- Oui, Papa?
- Where are you going with that wine?
- To Monsieur Cassin.
Why, you are not!
Oh, Papa, let the child go.
He's a famous man
and she's merely curious!
Curious?
Curious, curious, huh?
I know this curious business!
With her, it's playing games!
What are you and she up to now?
That man is here for a rest
and not to play games!
Oh la la la la la...
Yes!
- Your wine, monsieur.
- Oh, just one moment please!
Come in.
Oh, I beg your pardon, I...
Allow me, monsieur.
- You? But, but...
- Oh, it's quite all right.
It's not often anyone
as famous as yourself comes here.
But you flatter me.
- I'm just a policeman.
- Oh, but a very great one.
The best detective in all France!
- Not really.
- Oh, yes!
Anyone knows that.
- Your wife must be very proud of you.
- My wife?
- You are not married, monsieur?
- Married? Me? Oh, no!
Oh, no, no, my dear.
- Now your wine, monsieur.
- Allow me... to do it.
Yes.
I... I call you
when dinner is ready, monsieur.
That will be fine. I...
- Maman, he is not married!
- I thought so.
He's well-to-do, unmarried
and he likes me, I'm sure of it!
- That was charming.
- Thank you.
- Seems very warm here.
- Very warm.
- Would you like to go out for some air?
- I would.
You wouldn't like it,
if you had to stay here all the time.
- No?
- No, the same old thing year after year.
You're born, you grow up,
and then one day, you die.
You're bored in the village of St. Margot
and would like to see Paris.
Yes. How did you know?
Every pretty girl
would like to go to Paris.
But people are born, they grow up
and they die there, too, you know.
Oh, but it's different!
The theatres and cafes, and...
and beautiful clothes!
Why, if a girl had beautiful clothes here,
there would be no one to notice her.
You don't need any beautiful clothes.
Nanette.
You see...
In Paris, a man like myself...
I...
I have no time to look at the girls,
or the beautiful clothes.
Here there is time.
I think your dress is lovely.
- Oh, you're making fun of me.
- No, not really.
- Would you like to hear about Paris?
- Oh, yes, yes, I would!
All right. Let's talk about Paris.
So the waiter said the only difference
between the champagne of 1902 and 1906
is 40 francs!
I've been waiting for you.
This is Lon Achard.
- Monsieur Cassin.
- How do you do?
- Now, if you'll excuse us, monsieur.
- But Lon, I...
They're engaged.
They've known each other
since they were children.
Pierre, you eat too much, drink too much
and talk too much.
Believe me, monsieur,
he doesn't mean what one might think.
An engagement like theirs?
It's nonsense.
I wouldn't tell that to Lon,
if I were you.
For unless I am greatly mistaken,
Lon intends to marry Nanette,
and they have my blessing.
He's a lucky fellow.
If you'll excuse me,
I'm going to my room.
- You didn't have to be so rude.
- Did you enjoy your walk with him?
Lon, he's an old man.
Surely you don't...
I saw the way he looks at you.
A hungry dog begging for a favor.
- And you loved it.
- He's our guest, I have to be nice to him.
- It's nothing else?
- No, silly. Any girl loves attention.
You see, when I laugh with others
it means nothing. Nothing serious.
You and I, Lon, we've been promised
since we were children.
Oh, Nanette. Forgive me.
I get so frightened sometimes.
If I can't have you, I'd kill you
rather than lose you to anyone else.
Nanette was supposed to meet me.
Where is she?
Not here, as you can see.
- She has gone somewhere.
- But she knew I was going to the fair!
Oh? She went off.
- With Monsieur Cassin.
- Cassin?
Where?
Somewhere.
Oh, Henri, it's been so wonderful
since you came here.
- Really?
- Oh, yes.
We've become close friends and...
and you've shown me
a new world and a new life.
- You mean Paris?
- Paris, London.
All the exciting places you have been.
Tell me again about Paris, Henri.
Don't you ever tire of hearing
the same thing again and again?
Never.
- Some day I'm going there.
- You are?
Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes!
- What about Lon and his farm?
- Oh, no, not Lon.
But that's a good life, Nanette.
You're engaged to him.
He's young.
It's only a childhood promise!
It doesn't mean a thing.
Besides, Lon wouldn't like Paris.
He thinks only of his farm.
But we...
We could have a wonderful time
in Paris, Henri.
You and I.
"You and I"?
- Oh, you think I am brazen.
- No.
No, I don't.
Not at all.
Nanette!
- Lon, you...
- I warn you, Monsieur Cassin.
Do not touch this girl again.
She's promised to me.
I know. I apologize, Lon.
It was all my fault, I was carried away.
You mind your own business,
Lon Achard!
Sneaking around, spying on people!
You...
Monsieur Cassin!
- Alone and deep in thought.
- Hello, Doctor!
Is the great detective thinking
of a case, even on his vacation?
As a matter of fact I was.
The Case of Monsieur Edine,
our Attorney General.
- Do you remember him?
- I don't think so.
He fell in love with a beautiful actress.
He was quite old and she was 18.
- What did he commit?
- Marriage.
- Is that a crime?
- I wonder.
He certainly made himself
the laughing stock of the Suret.
We all thought he was asking
for trouble. Silly old fool.
- Cigarette?
- No thank you.
And Nanette asked me
if I knew where you were.
- Nanette? She did?
- I think she's lonely.
Lon's away,
showing his cattle at the fair.
He'll not be back for a week.
That Lon is a nice-looking boy,
young and healthy.
Monsieur Cassin.
Are you contemplating to retire?
- Retire? Me? Why?
- Well, your profession's a strenuous one.
Perhaps you have a heart disease.
Kidney, liver, lungs?
- No.
- I see.
- Are you near-sighted or far-sighted?
- My vision is 20:20, but I don't quite...
I have very little opportunity here
to meet famous people like you.
Questions are prompted
by professional curiosity.
- I hope you do not mind.
- Not at all. Go right ahead.
When did you have
a serious illness last?
Uh, when I was four. Measles.
- Nothing since?
- No.
The Attorney General
who married the young actress,
did he... I mean, his marriage of course
was a failure.
No, they seem to be very happy.
They have a three-year-old son.
Is that so?
Silly old fool.
Well, I'd better be going.
- Good night.
- Good night.
- Doctor Boncourt!
- Yes?
Thank you very much.
Thanks a lot!
What's Nanette doing
mooning out there in the garden?
Why, she's waiting for Monsieur Cassin.
Who else?
Why doesn't she leave the poor man alone?
Can't she see he's been avoiding her?
What do you expect her to do?
Twiddle her thumbs while Lon is away?
But it'd be better than tormenting
Monsieur Cassin.
She's engaged to marry Lon,
and they should be married.
- They've waited long enough.
- Love has its place.
But it puts no butter on the bread.
My daughter is gonna have
all the things that I have missed.
And if she uses her wits,
she can marry Monsieur Cassin.
You and your schemes.
- Henri, I've been waiting for you.
- Nanette.
- You have?
- Yes.
Oh, Nanette.
We've known each other
a very short while
and I know I'm not
a handsome man like Lon
and I'm too old for you.
Yes.
And I know I shouldn't say this to you,
but...
I can't help it. I'm in love with you.
What shall I do?
Chrie...
- What's the matter?
- I'm troubled about Lon.
- He's based his whole life around you.
- Please, Henri. He just can't be in it.
And it's better that he learns
the truth now than later.
I suppose so. But...
I love you, Henri.
- Nanette, what's keeping you?
- Maman, how do I look?
Hurry up, child.
Henri is waiting for you.
All right Maman, I'll hurry.
You see this, Henri?
There aren't a dozen bottles
of this in all France.
I bought it for such an occasion as this.
Nanette's betrothal party.
But I don't think
I should open it tonight.
- What are you trying to say?
- Look, my friend.
This is not easy for me to say
because I like you.
I would be proud to have a man
like yourself a member of my family.
But a man...
A man... a man at your age
isn't meant for marriage.
- Henri, how do I look?
- Lovely my dear, lovely.
Henri, Father Corteau
would like to meet you.
Father, this is Henri Cassin.
I congratulate you both.
I know you will be very happy.
- Thank you, Father.
- I've seen you about, my son.
A new face like you shines
so brightly in a small town like ours.
Perhaps you'll settle among us
now that you've tasted
the pleasures of St. Margot?
Oh, no! We're going to live in Paris.
- Aren't we, Henri?
- Yes my dear.
Am I supposed to congratulate
the bride and groom?
- Lon, please.
- I don't blame you.
It's your mother.
She's never liked me because I'm poor!
This detective is rich and famous
and between the two of them, well...
You didn't wait very long
after my back was turned, did you?
Look, Monsieur Detective.
I love Nanette.
We were promised since we were children.
I'll always love her.
I'm very stubborn.
And I'm a bad loser.
If you marry her,
I'll try to win her back from you.
Wherever you go,
I'll be there making love to her.
And one day, I'll win.
You'll never really have her.
Excuse me, Father.
Lon!
Oh, Pierre. What a morning.
- I wonder what's happened to her.
- Oh, please, Maman. Stop worrying.
Nanette knows
how to take care of herself.
I hope so. I do hope so.
Monsieur Cassin?
I have your breakfast.
Monsieur Cassin?
You have not been to bed!
Your breakfast, monsieur.
You must eat.
She...
...didn't come home.
No.
No, she didn't.
But you must eat something,
Monsieur Cassin.
And you can't stay in your room
brooding like this.
It is not healthy for you.
I know.
I know.
I'll pull myself together.
Forgive us, monsieur,
We had to call the doctor.
For the past few days you had us worried.
- You do not eat, you do not sleep.
- There is no word from...
...Nanette?
None at all.
Lon's house is locked,
but we don't know where they are.
You know, it is my opinion
that they have eloped.
And two young people in love
on their honeymoon
don't take time for letter writing.
- Pierre!
- Well...
I knew it was too good to be true.
That much happiness...
...just wasn't meant for me.
A few days might pass
and she wouldn't write,
but not the whole week!
And Lon is not a man
to neglect his farm.
We've got to do something.
Monsieur Cassin,
we didn't want to upset you.
But now...
Now I think it is a matter for the police.
Monsieur?
- Monsieur.
- Yes?
- Monsieur Cassin?
- Yes.
You know the bridge over the river?
The bridge where all that water flows by?
The fisherman told me to tell you...
- Go on.
- You know Louis the fisherman?
He told me to tell you
that they have found her. Nanette.
She's dead.
Monsieur?
Monsieur Cassin!
It's very annoying,
because Monsieur Cassin and myself...
Nanette wasn't drowned,
she was strangled.
- Strangled?
- Probably right after she disappeared.
She was choked to death
and her body thrown into the river.
- But who could've...
- Monsieur, I'm only a country policeman.
I have never been faced
with such a problem before.
Please, will you help me?
I will never rest... until I get
the man who killed her.
Thanks, monsieur.
The body was jammed against the piling.
Brought here by the current.
The murder
must have been committed upstream.
- Yes, monsieur.
- She was last seen with Lon.
- Where is his farm?
- It's upstream.
One kilometer.
Monsieur Cassin!
Monsieur Cassin!
Nanette.
- Nanette.
- Where did you find this?
Right here.
Shoo, shoo!
Shoo.
If he killed her here,
he covered his tracks completely.
Monsieur. Come.
Come.
Acid.
He killed Nanette
then took his own life.
The acid burned his lips, all right.
There's a smell of it in his mouth.
- And yet...
- What is it, monsieur?
Lon couldn't have killed himself.
- It was murder.
- Murder? But you said...
Death from this type of acid
ends in convulsions.
Lon couldn't have... taken it
and still kept hold of the bottle.
- I had to pry it from him.
- But it looks like suicide.
That's what it was meant to look like.
Strangled.
Just like little Nanette was.
That means whoever killed Nanette,
killed Lon, too.
But who would want to kill them?
It would take a strong man
to strangle Lon.
- There should be signs of a struggle.
- Yes, there should be footprints.
But where are they?
Where are they?
There's nothing much more.
- Jean, you can take him away.
- Yes, Monsieur. Boys, pick up the body.
No, I think I can piece it together now.
Lon came straight from the fair
to the inn.
The murder probably took place
at the haystack.
That's how Nanette's ribbon got there.
Then the murderer carefully obliterated
every trace of the struggle.
Destroyed all the footprints,
carried Lon's body to the barn,
doing his best
to make it look like suicide.
It's got to be there.
It must be.
It must be there, it must!
Jean!
See? I told you, it had to be here.
Don't you understand?
Lon was a big man,
he was hard to carry.
The murderer
must have held him like this.
Then he put him down, without realizing
that there was a water barrel.
And water barrels leak.
As he knelt down,
there was the weight of Lon's body
on that one foot.
And it imprinted itself indelibly
in the moist ground,
protected by Lon's body.
The murderer destroyed every clue,
but he forgot that one.
And that one will cost him his head.
- A letter for you, Monsieur Cassin.
- A letter for me?
- There's no stamp. Where did you get it?
- I found it under the door this morning.
Have you told anyone about this?
No one, monsieur.
But you...
looked yourself, huh?
Yes, monsieur.
You are to say nothing about this,
you understand?
There's no sense in alarming everybody.
It says "Another will die".
Wherever there is a crime,
there are letters like this.
It's the work of a crank.
I do not think so, Monsieur Cassin.
Madame Bridelle, do you suppose
if anyone wanted to kill you,
you'd get a warning?
No.
Murderers don't work that way,
they depend on the element of surprise.
Look at me.
Were Lon and Nanette warned?
- No, monsieur.
- Then there is nothing to worry about.
- And don't mention it to anyone.
- No, monsieur.
I'll take care of this.
Madame.
- Monsieur?
- Do you sell this paper?
- Oh, yes, monsieur. We sell that paper.
- To whom?
Why, to everybody in St. Margot.
We have two kinds of stationery.
That and a more expensive variety.
But that is so good, so cheap,
so utilitarian that everybody...
We are a small bank, monsieur,
and I would recognize it,
but I don't know this handwriting at all.
Thank you.
Supposing...
Only two sets of fingerprints,
one my own.
The other is obviously
the Widow Bridelle's.
As we were the only ones to handle it.
The writer was clever,
he left only smudges.
- You believe this?
- We've got to play safe.
Two died, why not three?
- If three, why not...
- We all might be in danger?
Yes, unless we discover
why the murderer kills.
Just what do we know?
Two young people were strangled.
Why are they dead?
Was it revenge?
If so, revenge for what?
Was it for gain?
But who could gain by it?
A thing like this never happened
to me before.
I've always been able
to outguess the murderer.
And while he may have committed
one or two crimes,
I've solved over a hundred!
And now I don't know, I...
I don't know which way to turn.
Monsieur Cassin!
Monsieur Cassin!
- Have you found anything?
- Nothing new, Pierre.
But you have turned
the village upside down.
- You must know who killed Nanette.
- Not yet.
- But we will find him.
- You'd better, and soon.
- Monsieur Cassin is doing all he can.
- I've got to know.
Find the man who killed Nannette.
Find him or I'll...
- Pierre!
- I've got to know.
For whoever killed Nanette,
I'll kill him with my own hands.
- Poor Pierre.
- Tempers are growing short.
If we don't find the murderer soon,
I'm afraid people will take things
into their own hands.
And an innocent man
sometimes can satisfy them.
Yes.
Pardon me, Monsieur Cassin.
I didn't want to disturb you.
I know you're very busy
and you've been working very hard,
but I waited for this opportunity
and I didn't want Maman to know.
What is it, Pierre?
- Where did you get this?
- It was under the door.
I didn't tell Maman.
What shall we do?
Monsieur Cassin, Maman and I,
we've had 25 years together.
You're a bachelor. You can't quite
understand what that means.
Oh, we've had our quarrels,
our arguments,
but our lives... our lives are woven
together like the thread of fine linens.
We lost our only child,
but Maman, she must not die.
Don't get alarmed Pierre.
Come on, let's talk to her.
Maman.
Maman.
Pierre is closing the inn for a while.
This has been a terrible shock to him.
I know. And Henri.
I'm worried about him, too.
There have been no clues.
And he's brooding too much
about his failure to solve the murders.
- Henri!
- Oh, hello Doctor.
Oh, my son.
You mustn't let these tragedies
lay so heavy upon you.
You have done all you can.
That is all any mortal can do.
Father Corteau is right,
you must get some rest.
I can't. Not yet.
Monsieur Cassin!
- What are you doing here?
- Oh, just... just fixing your desk.
You startled me!
Pierre is closing the inn.
- Where will you go?
- I don't know.
- Perhaps...
- Yes?
Nothing.
When I surprised you in my room,
you hid something under your apron.
My shoe, where is it?
You've been trying it
in the plaster cast, why?
Did it fit?
Madame, a lonesome woman
often broods
and becomes resentful
of the happiness of others.
Sometimes she can't bear
that happiness to continue.
Is that not so?
You are a powerfully-built woman,
perhaps capable of strangling another.
You have access
to all the rooms in this inn.
You were in the building
even when Maman Michaud was murdered.
You might well have taken my shoes
and worn them that other night.
Have you no defense?
Speak up!
Write! Write as I dictate!
- "You will die next."
- No.
Do as I say.
If you are innocent, prove it!
- Write!
- I can't!
- You won't! Why?
- I never learned to write.
Why the paper and pen in your room?
Papa Michaud placed it there.
The same paper is in all the rooms.
Madame, I warn you,
my patience is running out.
- I won't tell anyone!
- You won't tell anyone!
- Understand, your situation is serious.
- I do understand, believe me.
You need looking after, Monsieur Cassin.
I could take care of you.
What are you saying?
Take me with you.
I'll look after you.
I have no one. Please.
Commissaire, I have failed completely.
I feel no longer competent to carry on.
Henri, you are overwrought.
This affair has upset you emotionally.
You have been too close to it.
It is true, never before
have I been called upon
to investigate a case
in which I was personally involved.
To leave a city like Paris
the capital of Europe,
and go to a small village
and fail completely! I... monsieur...
There's no logical motive
for the murders.
The murderer is as elusive
as my own shadow.
He leaves no trace.
It's just as though he wouldn't exist.
And yet, he does exist.
Oh, come now.
Let's analyze it calmly, huh?
- You must have something to go on.
- Very little.
The mold of the murderer's footprint,
two death notes...
The handwriting's obviously disguised.
- Is that all?
- That, monsieur, is everything.
- That's not very much.
- I studied the footprint, and...
I built up a general idea,
a general picture of the murderer.
Wait a minute!
Wait a minute...
Send in the bureau's sketch artist. Hurry.
Perhaps we can do some good after all.
That is the only thing that was wrong.
You were away out of touch
and lacked the facilities of the bureau.
- I'm afraid it won't be that easy.
- We will see.
Come in.
Be seated, Antoine.
- Listen to Henri and draw us a picture.
- Yes, monsieur.
The murderer wears a 10 shoe.
He's about 5'9".
He should be around 175.
I judge he's a stocky man,
for he has short and broad fingers.
The marks on the victims
are always clearly defined.
Therefore he must have strong hands
and probably very powerful shoulders.
About 100 such men
in the neighborhood of St. Margot.
But from such a description,
it might even be yourself!
The figures fit you
almost exactly, Monsieur Cassin.
Monsieur Cassin is not
in the mood for joking, Antoine.
- Let me see it.
- But, monsieur...
Antoine was fooling, Henri.
His idea of a joke.
Draw in my face.
- But Monsieur Cassin...
- Draw it in!
- Henri, what are you doing?
- You will see.
- What was this all about?
- Let me work this out.
You see? It's a perfect fit if we allow
for the extra weight carried at the time.
Lon's body.
That means nothing.
What sort of nonsense is this?
It's no nonsense.
The Widow Bridelle was right,
only she couldn't be sure.
Henri, what are you saying?
Here is your murderer.
This doesn't make sense.
Why didn't I see it before?
The shoe alone would mean nothing,
but I am the only one
who had the opportunity
and also fits the description.
If I only could prove the handwriting
on the notes is mine, I have a case.
I could convince a jury.
You never wrote those. I have seen
your handwriting too many times.
- Here.
- That is not conclusive.
I refuse to accept it as such.
Any left-handed writing would look
the same if copied closely.
That's a matter for the experts to decide.
Don't you understand?
I must have killed them.
All my career, I've lived
by the laws of evidence.
- By such laws, I am guilty.
- This is utterly ridiculous!
Monsieur, the proof of my guilt
is in your hand!
But why? Why would you commit
such senseless murders?
I don't know, I don't know.
But it must be so. I must have killed them
but I don't remember any of it.
I don't know.
I would give anything to know.
Henri, you have been
under an emotional strain.
You had been working too hard
when you left, and then these murders.
Oh, monsieur, you are not suggesting
I'm out of my mind, I'm imagining things?
- The evidence!
- Don't know what to say. It's incredible!
I can't believe it.
I insist you place me under guard
while you investigate.
Very well.
You'll be confined to your office
while you write out the record.
Submit a detailed report, we'll then order
a complete, unbiased investigation
which I'm sure will clear you entirely.
Thank you, monsieur.
Send Doctor Manet in.
And place a guard
on Monsieur Cassin's door.
Yes, I said Monsieur Cassin!
He's not to be allowed to leave,
unless I give the word.
- Antoine.
- Yes?
Not a word of this to anyone.
Understand?
Yes, monsieur.
- You sent for me, Commissaire?
- Yes, yes, come in, Doctor.
Doctor Manet,
if anyone else had told me this
I wouldn't believe it, but it happened.
It happened to Henri Cassin.
And he really believes that he did it.
If he were not Henri Cassin,
I would believe it too, but...
Doctor Manet, is there any possible
medical explanation of all this?
Yes. If so, it would be called
schizophrenia.
Split personality.
But one moment the subject is normal.
And in another, he possesses
an entirely different personality.
In this case, it would be that
of a fiendish murderer.
But the murders were so senseless.
How did he select his victims?
Of course, all this is conjecture
at the moment.
But assuming we are dealing
with schizophrenia,
we must consider
the irrational thought processes.
The impulses of a disordered brain.
It's all in the pattern.
What we took for Henri's absent-mindedness
was the first symptom of amnesia.
And amnesia walks hand in hand
with schizophrenia.
He hadn't forgotten what he had done.
It never registered in his mind.
But his letters to me.
You read them too.
He loved the girl Nanette.
When he left here for St. Margot,
he was tired.
On the point of a breakdown.
When he became involved in an affair
of the heart with a disappointing ending,
it was too much.
He feared the girl had run off with Lon.
His other personality
was impelled to follow them.
Perhaps he found them together.
- Who knows?
- But Maman Michaud?
Once he started killing, he sees it
as a means of satisfying his unconscious
resentment against all of St. Margot.
Doctor Manet, what are we going to do?
First, we must have Henri examined
by a competent alienist.
He will grant his permission for that,
I'm sure.
Let me have Henri Cassin, please.
But of course he's there.
Try him again.
He doesn't answer.
'Unless I am greatly mistaken,
Lon intends to marry Nanette,
'and they have my blessing.'
'My blessing, my blessing, my blessing...'
Monsieur Cassin!
- Where is... Pierre?
- In his room. Packing.
Are you all right, monsieur?
Of course I'm... all right.
Please monsieur, don't!
- Don't what?
- Whatever you were about to do.
Don't interfere.
Don't interfere. Understand?
Monsieur Cassin!
What are you doing here?
Hello, Pierre.
- I see you are almost... ready to go.
- Yes, in a day or so I'll be gone.
Yes, Pierre.
What's the matter with you?
You look at me strangely.
So I wasn't good enough for Nanette.
I was too old.
I was too old.
I was too old.
I was too old.
Too old!
Too old!
Just as you killed Nanette and Maman.
I kill you with my own hands.
Henri Cassin.
Monsieur Commissaire.
Henri Cassin...
...is no more.
I caught him.
I killed him.