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Trouble with Harry, The (1955)
OK! I know how to handle your type.
Well, old faithful,|that's your shooting for the day. If we haven't rung up|at least two rabbits, we deserve to go home empty-handed. Yeah, still, blessed are they|who expect nothing. for they shall not be disappointed. Mm. Fewer things in life give a man|more pleasure than hunting. It satisfies his primitive nature, striding through the woods,|picking up his kill. Well, come on, old faithful. There's plump rabbits|waiting for the frying pan. If this can had four legs and a tail,|we'd be eating it tonight. Clean through the heart. For rice cake! I've done him in. Cor. A harmless pot-shot at a rabbit|and I'm a murderer, a killer. Mother always said|I'd come to a bad end. What in Hades were you doing here|anyway? I can't say that I've seen you|around here before. No. If you're going to get yourself|shot, do it where you're known. "Mr Harry Worp, 87 Maple Avenue,|Boston, Massachusetts. " Worp, you're a long way from home. With the looks of it, you won't|get back for Christmas, now. We're going to have a cold,|hard winter. Mm. You might keep here a long time,|an awful long time. Too long for me, Harry. Yes. Captain Wiles? Yes, ma'am? What seems to be the trouble,|Captain? It's what you might call|an unavoidable accident. - He's dead.|- Yes. I would say that he was. Of course,|that's an unprofessional opinion. Yeah. Did you...|did you know him, Miss Gravely? - No. Doesn't live around here.|- Well, he died around here. - That's what counts now.|- Embarrassing. What do you plan to do with him,|Captain? Miss Gravely, without cutting the hem|off truth's garment, I'm gonna hide him, cover him up, forget him. Are you never going to inform|the police, Captain? No. Forget you saw me, Miss Gravely. Chase it out of your mind, for|heaven's sake, it was an accident. He was poking around the clearing|and I thought he was a rabbit. It was a human error.|Ah, now, please, don't... Don't say anything to anybody,|Miss Gravely. Do as you think best, Captain. I'm sure you must have met|many similar situations in your travels in foreign lands. - Yeah, I've seen much worse things.|- I certainly won't say anything. Much worse things.|I remember when I was on the Orinoco. We had a Turk, a great, big Turk,|running amuck with a machete - Captain, if I were going to hide|an accident, I shouldn't delay. Oh. Oh.|You're right as rain, Miss Gravely. Yes. You know something?|I'm glad I met you today. I feel better for telling someone|as warm, tender, understanding as yourself. Well, on the contrary, Captain. It... It... I'm certainly glad|if I helped you, Captain. Perhaps you would care to come over|for some blueberry muffins and coffee later on,|high-bush blueberries? Ah, well. This is certainly something|of an interesting surprise. - And maybe some elderberry wine.|- Oh! After all, we've been neighbours|for nearly three years now and... we've never exchanged social calls. You're right.|It's high time I paid a call. - What time?|- Oh, say, early this afternoon. I'll be there with a clean shirt|and a hungry face. Do that. You better be going now. Don't want|to be an accessory after the fact. You are a considerate man,|Captain Wiles. - Goodbye.|- Goodbye. We're almost there, Mommy! Here he is, Mommy. Here he is. - What did I tell ya, Mommy?|- Don't touch it, Arnie. - There he is.|- No. It can't be! Harry! Harry, thank Providence,|the last of Harry. - Who's Providence, Mommy?|- A very good friend. - Don't you know who it is?|- You said Harry. - Can't you remember, Arnie?|- Why don't he get up and move? He's asleep. He's in a deep sleep,|a deep, wonderful sleep. How'd he hurt his head? Putting it where it wasn't wanted,|would be my guess. - Will it get better?|- Not if we're lucky. Let's run home|and I'll make you some lemonade. Will lemonade put me in a wonderful,|deep, deep sleep, Mommy? No, Arnie, but it's better|than no lemonade. - I don't understand that.|- Never mind. Forget you saw him. - Is there a special way to forget?|- Just think of something else. - I'll try not to see him tomorrow.|- That's a good boy, Arnie. Now, let's run home|and get that lemonade. She won't care what I do with him. Couldn't have had more people here|if I'd sold tickets. What's the big attraction, I wonder? This could turn out to be|the luckiest day of my life. I'll just wait till the whole world|comes to pay their last respects. Sooner or later one of them has|to turn out to be the Deputy Sheriff. # Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa # Flaggin' the train that's going home # Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa # Never no more, no more to roam # Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa # Got a sweet gal who's on my mind # Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa # Back to the gal I left behind # Got no baggage # Just got my fare # But all I need yes, indeed # Is waitin' for me there|Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa # Oh how I love that choo-choo sound # Flaggin' the train to Tuscaloosa # Flaggin' the train|that's homeward bound # Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa # Got a sweet gal who's on my mind # Gotta get back to Tuscaloosa # Back to the gal I left behind # Got no baggage # Just got my fare # But all I need yes, indeed # Is waitin' for me there # Hello, Mr Marlowe. Wiggy, you haven't sold a painting.|All my pictures in the same place. So few cars. They don't... I guess|the cider takes their attention. Cider, indeed.|Throw it away! Drink it. - No, I hate cider.|- Not a picture sold. I'm sorry, Mr Marlowe. Let's get|a look at your new one. Hold it up. What good would it do? You don't|deserve to see it. How will I eat? Mr Wiggs always used to thump|his stomach when he got mad. He busted somethin' inside once. You think we'd do any better|on 5th Avenue? If there's more people there. Oh, lots of people. Hundreds|and thousands and billions of people. - It might be better then.|- But what sort of people, Wiggy? What breed? I'll tell you. They're little people,|little people with hats on. How are your cigarettes? I'll buy the other half tomorrow. What does your son do with all those|old cars he always works on? He sells 'em. Mechanical antiques.|Doesn't make much, needs the money. Hm. Doesn't he get paid|for being deputy sheriff? Piecework.|Gets paid by the arrest, I think. Ah, Mr Marlowe, it's wonderful. - I've been in a tortured mood.|- What is it? Good old Wiggy, my sternest critic. I don't understand it but I think|it's beautiful. Mrs Rogers agrees. - Oh? You talk about me?|- Well, I... She's the pretty woman|with the little boy, isn't she? Mm-hm.|I only brought up your name once when we were talking|about strange people. - Huh?|- That is, strangers. - Oh.|- People she hadn't met yet. What does the pretty,|little thing say about me? Nothin'. I think we better discuss business.|Here, my shopping list. I'll go in and start puttin' it up. Wiggy, how do you spell Tuscaloosa? Sam? - Hi, Calvin.|- You hear any shootin'? - Nope.|- I did. And there shouldn't be|any shootin' around here. - Why?|- It's posted land, that's why. - Why's that?|- 'Cause I posted it. What's wrong with people doing|shooting now and then? Let off steam. Bullets and guns are dangerous.|They kill things. No one around here could hit|a freight car with a cannon. I guess you're right, Sam.|All the same, the law's the law. I got a mind to scout around to find|out who's shooting and level a fine. And pick up a little piecework? If I can do anything to make it|any harder for you, let me know. How'd you want your bacon,|Mr Marlowe? - What were you saying?|- I asked how you want your bacon. Sliced. - Where is Calvin?|- Off somewheres unimportant. What a wonderful day. So was yesterday, but you didn't say|anything to me about it. What you want Calvin for? These marvellous pictures. Someone told me they were yours. Why don't you sell them,|make a lot of money? Never thought of it. I guess|I'll just have to think about it. And that song. You sing it so|beautifully. You wrote it yourself? What do you want to borrow? I think people need encouragement|sometimes, don't you, Mr Marlowe? - How'd you know my name?|- It's on the pictures, isn't it? - It's not supposed to be readable.|- I can tell it's not supposed to be. They're very professional,|don't you think, Mrs Wiggs? Well, Miss Gravely,|all I know is nobody buys them. Thank you for your encouragement,|Miss Gravely. - Now I wonder how you know my name?|- Easy. Wiggy just said it. Wiggy. What a perfectly ridiculous|little nickname. Do you mind if I call you Wiggy,|Mrs Wiggs? Not if you pay all your bills|on time. Alright, Mr Marlowe,|Bacon, beans, cabbage, sugar, salt, tea, oleomargarine. - $1.95.|- And half a box of cigarettes. - Ah, yes. Ten cents, two five.|- That much? I don't seem to be able to find... I know, Mr Marlowe, as soon as|we sell some of your paintings. Let me make my position clear - Shhh. What do you think? I think it'll hold coffee. Will you try it, Mr Marlowe? Put your finger through the handle,|please. How about the size?|What about the handle? Hm? I mean, does it fit?|Is it the right finger size? It's my finger size. - I'll take it.|- Fifteen cents. - And the saucer?|- Ten. - That seems a fair price.|- What's important about finger size? I wanted to be certain|it would fit a man. - A certain size man.|- A man? A certain somebody is coming over|to my cottage this afternoon. - Not really?|- For coffee and blueberry muffins. Why, you old social butterfly, you. Old? That was figuratively speaking. I think we've got|a nearsighted cider customer. How old do you think I am, young man? Hmmm. Fifty.|How old do you think you are? Forty-two. I can show you|my birth certificate. You'll have to show more than your|birth certificate to convince a man. - What do you mean?|- You have to show your character, the inner self, the hidden qualities, the true Miss Gravely,|sensitive, young in feeling, timeless with love and understanding. I can do it!|At least, I think I can do it. Do what? - I'll see what that gentleman -|- At a time like this? - Where are your scissors?|- Outside. We're going to cut her hair. - Hair?|- Cut it short. Bring it up-to-date,|make a nice romantic styling, take ten years|off your birth certificate. - How are you fixed for ribbon?|- Should be some around somewhere. - Powder, rouge, lipstick?|- I think so. Nothing cheap, shoddy or obvious. Just youth, gentility, character. I'll go out and get the scissors.|You find the other things. - Ah, here they are.|- Excuse me, young man, I... Oh, well. All right, Ernest. Let's go. Well, always grow back, I guess. There's Calvin. - Is he alone?|- Yep. Guess he didn't sell his car. Hey! Would you mind|getting out of my picture? Next thing you know, they'll be|televising the whole thing. Huh. - This your body, little man?|- Don't turn me in. It was an accident,|an accident, pure and simple. I thought he was a rabbit|or a pheasant or something. - It could've happened to you.|- Suppose we straighten this out? I guess that's the only way out. First thing I seen|when I rolled out this morning was a double-breasted robin|drunk as a hoot owl, from eating fermented chokecherries. Right away I knew somebody|was in trouble. What I didn't know|was that it was me. The larder was empty and I got to|thinking about a toothful... Stands to reason|that they can't touch you for it. Nothing these days|stands to reason. It was accidental,|an act of God, perhaps. In a way you should be grateful|that you were able to do your share in accomplishing|the destiny of a fellow being. Suppose, for instance,|it was written in the book of heaven, that this man was to die at this particular time,|at this particular place. And suppose for a moment|that the actual accomplishing of his departure had|been bungled, something gone wrong. Uh... Perhaps it was meant to be|a thunderbolt and there was|no thunder available, say. Well, then you come along,|and you shoot him... and heaven's will is done|and destiny fulfilled. Your conscience is quite clear.|You've got nothing to worry about. Sammy, I haven't got a conscience. And it's not heaven|that's worrying me because I don't expect|I'll ever have to face it. And it's none of those noble things|you were talking about, no. - Nothing like that.|- Then what is it? It's me. It's me that's worrying me, me and my future life. I know the police|and their suspicious ways. You're guilty until|you're proved innocent. I want nothing more to do with him.|Bury him, and be done with him. He's no good to anyone now. Lay him to rest.|Put him under the sod. Forget him. I never did it and you never saw him. Yes, what about all those|other people who saw him? How about the woman and the boy,|Miss Gravely and the tramp and... the man who was reading the book,|Dr Greenbow? - How about all of them?|- Nobody was interested, I tell you. Nobody ever cared|until you came along. Ah, that's what you think. Suppose someone starts to care|after you've buried him? I can't wait for people to start|caring whenever they feel like it. I don't want a little accident|to turn into a career. Suppose that woman|who called him Harry... Suppose she decides|she loves him after all. - She was hysterical with delight.|- Hm? What was she like? Pretty as a rainbow.|Wish I was two years younger. - And with a little boy?|- Yeah, about four or five years old. Hmm. It's got to be Mrs Rogers|and her son. Why don't we slip him underground|now that you've finished drawing him? We could discuss|the smaller details later. I don't like it. The authorities|like to know when people die. All right, Sammy. Forget it. You cut off home. I killed him|and I'll look after his remains. What'll you do, drag him around the|countryside the rest of the day? I'll do my best.|That's all a man can do. If you're not careful, you will get|a murder charge lined up. Matter of fact, I'm beginning|to suspect something myself. There you are then. See? If you, an artist, suspect the worst,|what will they, the police, think? What about that envelope|with his name and address on it? By rights, you should|mail him back home. Have you forgotten who carries the|mail down to the station every night? Calvin Wiggs, deputy sheriff. Oh, yes. You're right. I'll tell you what we'll do.|I'll tell you what. We'll find out how well|Mrs Rogers knows this man, and whether she intends|to notify the police of his death. - What good will that do?|- Why, a lot of good. If she's a distant friend of his and|doesn't plan to notify the police, then I, personally,|will help you bury Harry. Oh, Sammy!|You've signed on for the cruise. What time is it? - About noon.|- Good heavens. I've got to go home and spruce up.|I've got a date with Miss Gravely. Not you. You are not the one. Oh, Sam. She could do a lot worse,|you know? Couldn't do any better. Just think,|you'd be establishing a precedent. I'm not establishing nothing. I am going over for blueberry muffins|and coffee by her own invitation. And possibly some elderberry wine. Do you realise that you'll be|the first man to... cross her threshold? Oh. Oh...|it's not too late, you know. She's a well preserved woman. - I envy you.|- Yes, very well preserved. And preserves|have to be opened someday. Hm? Yes. Now, you just trot down|and see what Mrs Rogers has to say. - How about hiding Harry first?|- Holy smoke! Forgetting a little detail|like that could hang a man. Yes. Oh. Oh, I beg your pardon. I hope I never have to be|operated on by Dr Greenbow. - Come on. Let's get going.|- Yeah. Good afternoon. You're beautiful, wonderful. You're the most wonderful,|beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'd like to paint you. Was there something else|you wanted, Mr... Marlowe, isn't it? You certainly are a lovely woman.|I'd like to paint you nude. Some other time, Mr Marlowe. I was|about to make Arnie some lemonade. Oh, yes, of course. Perhaps I've come|at an awkward moment. If you want to undress me, you have. Well, it wasn't exactly that. I came here to talk to you about|something, but after I saw you it... slipped my mind. - It couldn't have been important.|- I guess you're right. Sit on the porch. I'll get you a|lemonade. Maybe you'll think of it. You're not only beautiful,|you're considerate too. - Arnie!|- Hello, Mr Marlowe! Hi. What do you got, a rabbit? Dead. What have you got? Oh, I got me a little frog. Whoop! - There he is.|- It's hungry. Whoop! - I'll trade ya.|- Your mother for mine? - The rabbit for the frog.|- It's yours, Arnie. I think you got the best deal.|Dead rabbits don't eat. I'll just take it in the kitchen|and give him some lemonade. Four rabbit's feet,|and he got killed. - Should've had a four-leaf clover.|- And a horseshoe. Say, how do rabbits get to be born? - Same way elephants do.|- Oh, sure. How come you never came over|to visit me before? Didn't know you had such|a pretty mother, Arnie. If you think she's pretty,|you should see my slingshot. - Perhaps I'll come back tomorrow.|- When's that? - The day after today.|- That's yesterday. Today's tomorrow. - It was.|- When was tomorrow yesterday? - Today.|- Oh, sure, yesterday. You'll never make sense|out of Arnie. He has his own timing. Thank you. - Lemonade, Arnie?|- I already swiped two glasses. - I would've given you two glasses.|- It's more fun to swipe. Can I borrow your rabbit, Mr Marlowe? Sure, Arnie.|What are you gonna do with it? You never know when a dead rabbit|might come in handy. It already got me one frog. Arnie! Where are you going now? To make some more trades. - Come home in time for supper.|- OK. What's your given name? If you don't|want to tell me, just make one up. Jennifer. Jennifer Rogers. Nice. Um, who's the man up on the path? - What man?|- You know, Harry, the dead man. Oh, him. That's my husband. Your husband's dead, then? Is your lemonade sweet enough? - It seems to be.|- I like it tart. Harry is Arnie's father, then? - No, Arnie's father's dead.|- So is Harry. Thank goodness.|He was too good to live. From his looks, he didn't appear to|me to be the kind who was too good. Well, he was. Horribly good. I like your mouth too,|especially when you say, "Good. " - Will you have some more lemonade?|- Well, maybe later. Thanks. Where'd Arnie get the rabbit? He found it.|Maybe the Captain shot it. I'd like to hear more|of your life story. You see, we don't know|quite what to do with Harry. - Thought you might have suggestions.|- You can stuff him for all I care. Stuff him|and put him in a glass case. Only I'd suggest frosted glass. What did he do to you,|besides marry you? Look, I've wanted to explain|about Harry a lot of times... but nobody would understand, least of all, Harry. But you... You've got an artistic mind.|You can see the finer things. When I'm lucky.|Go on, tell me everything. Let it all out. It was a long time ago and I was|in love. I was too much in love. - What was his name?|- Robert. We'd agreed to overlook each other's|families and get married. - Did you?|- Oh, yes. - And then Robert got killed.|- Oh? I was heartbroken for six weeks. Then I discovered little Arnie|was on the way. - Must have been a shock.|- Well, that's where Harry came in. Harry the handsome hero.|Harry the saint. - Harry the good.|- I didn't catch his last name. Harry Worp, Robert's brother,|his older brother. And he fell in love with you? If he'd have fallen in love with me,|I wouldn't have minded. He wanted to marry me because he was|Robert's brother and felt noble. But you thought he was|in love with you? And I decided to let him|love me because of Arnie. It was on my second wedding night|that I learned the truth. You didn't learn on your first? This was a terrible truth... The truth about Harry. - Just what happened?|- How old are you, Mr Marlowe? About 30. This is what happened. I was in the hotel room alone.|I put on my best nightie. - You understand?|- Perfectly. Although I had no true feeling|for Harry, I worked myself into an enthusiasm|because I thought he loved me. Must have been hard work. There was a full moon,|and I sat by the window because I thought it would show off|my new nightie to advantage. Naturally. I don't know why|I'm telling you all this. You, a perfect stranger too.|I'm not boring you, am I? No. Not at all. - How about some more lemonade?|- Soon, soon. Oh, where was I? You were sitting by the window|because it was a full moon and you'd worked yourself up|to a certain enthusiasm. I said all that? Uh, when does Harry come in? He doesn't. He never came in. - He called the following morning.|- The following morning? In the hotel lobby the night before,|he bought a magazine. - His horoscope was in it.|- Bad? It said... He was a Taurus. It said, 'Don't start|any new project that day. - It could never be finished. '|- And what did you do? I left him on the spot,|and went home to mother's. The end. What a poignant story. I knew you'd understand. - Nobody else does.|- Not even mother? She thought I should live with him,|but I wouldn't. He pestered me to go back,|but I always refused. Well, suppose some night|I wanted him to do something... like the dishes, for example. - His horoscope wouldn't let him.|- You're absolutely right. There are some things|I just don't like to do by myself. And no one with any true|understanding would blame you for it. When Arnie was born, I moved to where|I thought Harry could never find me. I changed my name and... But he was persistent? This morning there was a knock|on the door. Before I opened it, I knew he was|standing on the other side. - What did he want?|- Me! He wanted me because I was his wife. He wanted me because, as he put it,|he suddenly felt some basic urge... - Loneliness.|- What'd you feel? I felt sick. Did you see|his moustache and his wavy hair? Yeah, but when I saw him,|he was dead. Yeah, he looked exactly the same when|he was alive, except he was vertical. So he entered. What'd you say? Nothing. I hit him over the head with|a milk bottle and knocked him silly. Silly? Bats. Tappy. He staggered up towards the woods|saying he was gonna find his wife and drag her home if it killed him. Apparently it did. Have some more lemonade. Why, Captain Wiles, what a surprise. But you invited me, Miss Gravely.|At least that's how I remember it. Of course I did, Captain,|but somehow, it's still a surprise. Oh, yes. You certainly know|how to make a man feel wanted. Won't you come in, Captain? Thank you.|I... I've looked forward to it. Takes a real cook to|make a good blueberry muffin, to keep the blueberries|from sitting on the bottom. High-bush blueberries,|that's the secret. I picked 'em up near where you shot|that unfortunate man. A real handsome man's cup. It's been in the family for years. My father always used it|up until he died. I trust he died peacefully,|slipped away in the night. He was caught in a threshing machine. I hope I haven't distressed you,|Captain. Not at all. Not at all. I'm used to looking on the rough side|of things. I am man who's faced death|many times. Rather recently too. Yeah. Arnie. What are you carrying there? - A rabbit.|- A rabbit? - What do you call it?|- Dead. It ain't mine. - Well, whose is it?|- Yours. You shot it with your gun. You must've killed it today.|It should make a nice stew for ya. A rabbit! I finally killed a rabbit! - Where'd you get it?|- In the blueberry muffins. - What?|- Out in the woods. Oh, here you are. One muffin|for one rabbit. Fair enough? That was a two-muffin rabbit. - I gotta go now.|- Oh. Hm. It's, uh, certainly a nice afternoon,|Miss Gravely. - Isn't it?|- Mm. Yes, and you're, you're a nice woman. And I think you're awfully nice,|Captain Wiles. Um, um.|Let's get back to our little problem. Harry. What's going to become of him? Oh, now, now.|Don't you worry about Harry. He'll be comfortably|underground before nightfall. All that digging and work.|Couldn't you just... let him slide off the end|of your boat pier into the pond? And have him pop up like a cork?|No, sir. Nobody ever popped up|from under four feet of ground. No. Besides, they'll be|cutting ice there this winter. Now wouldn't it be a nice thing|if they were cutting blocks of ice - Never mind, Captain. You're right. Yes. Underground is the best place|for Harry. He seems comfortable, Sam,|very comfortable and snug. We better find a place and get it dug|and the sooner the better. If what you say about Mrs Rogers|and her husband is true, I agree. Well, let's find a place. No use making hard work out of it. We|need a place where the earth is soft. And a place where the whole town|won't stumble over us as we work. Mm. A place with a certain|character and attractiveness. Facing west so that Harry|can watch the setting sun. - Where it'll be cosy in winter.|- And cool in the summer. You know, I'm half envying Harry. It wouldn't take much longer|to dig it twice as wide. Well, thanks for your kindness,|but some other time. - Here. This looks like a good place.|- Ahh! You're a lucky fellow, Harry Worp. - Come on, off with your coat.|- Who, me? Certainly you.|It's your body, isn't it? I'm not much of a hand|at grave digging. You should've thought of that|before you went hunting this morning. Calvin Wiggs. What'll we do now? Think up the best story|he's ever heard. Lay down your shovel, Sam. - What's the trouble?|- I'm dead beat. Good.|I was dead beat ten minutes ago. I wanted to keep digging|until you gave up. - Brrrr! Gives me the creeps.|- Yeah? Come on.|Let's get Harry and pop him in. With hasty reverence. There. Would you like to say|a few words, Captain? Yes, I would. Harry Worp, don't ever|show your face around here again. Let's finish this job|and get out of here. Captain, I think Calvin Wiggs|is looking for something. Think he knows Harry Worp came here? Sammy, that's as horrible|a thought as you've ever had. And that he wonders what happened|to Harry and where he is? My only answer is to keep|on scraping, and fast. If you must kill things from now on,|I wish you'd stick to rabbits. - The body's smaller.|- Rabbits! I didn't tell you, did I? - I shot a rabbit today!|- Don't shout. I know you did. I was up at Jennifer Rogers'|when Arnie showed me the rabbit. Jennifer, eh?|Didn't waste much time, did you? Well, I don't blame you, Sammy. A very nice widow she'll make.|Very nice. Let's discuss her|when we've finished with Harry. No need to get huffy. I don't want|to talk about your affairs. I've got affairs of my own. - You mean my protge?|- Come again? Miss Gravely. The lady I renovated|at Mrs Wiggs' this afternoon. A most remarkable|reversion to femininity. I don't quite get you, Sammy boy. She came into the Emporium|in rather high excitement. Wanted a new cup and saucer,|lots of other things. I gave her a new makeup|and hairdo. Don't tell me you didn't notice. She's a nice lady. - Very nice.|- We're all nice. I don't see how anyone|could help but like guys like us. I agree. I don't know whether|I've grown rose-colored glasses or - Or if you're in love? Aha! There's nothing like finding yourself|in love. No, it adds zest to your work. Zest! Zest! I think I've had enough zest|for a while. - Let's sit down and rest, huh?|- Oh, why not. We've earned it. Tell me, Sam, What did Jennifer think|of my shooting? You mean Mrs Rogers? Oh, I think by now I'm entitled to be|on a first-name basis with her. After all, I brought her a happy|release with one bullet. One bullet? How 'bout that|"No Shooting" sign that I found? Well, that. One bullet|for the "No Shooting" sign, one for the beer can|and one for Harry. - How about the rabbit?|- And one for the ra... What's the matter? - What's wrong? What's bitten you?|- I only fired three bullets. Three! One for the shooting sign,|one for the beer can - And one for the little man|who's lying in the grave. No, Sammy, no. That's just it.|One for the rabbit. If I shot the rabbit,|I didn't shoot Harry. Oh, Sammy boy, what have you|tried to make me do? Tried to make a murderer out of me. Well, don't sit there. Help me!|You helped bury him. Even if you didn't kill him, why dig|him up now that he's nicely planted? I promised Jennifer|that we'd bury him. Keep my word, he should stay buried. Besides whether you killed him|or not, you've incriminated yourself. You'll have more of a job explaining|a body that you didn't kill and bury, than a body that you accidentally|killed and buried, right, Captain? You're not supposed to bury bodies|whenever you find them. It makes people suspicious. Supposed to tell the police|or advertise or something. Oh, Sammy, you don't understand.|You don't comprehend one bit. You wouldn't like me to go through|life not knowing if I've killed him? Very inconsistent. First, you tell me|you've got no conscience. Now you talk about something that|sounds remarkably like a conscience. Oh, Sammy, come on. Help me. I don't care if I killed him or not,|for all that matters. But I'll get the shakes|whenever I see a policeman. All right. If I had my choice, I'd rather be|thought a murderer than proved one. Thank you. With two of us digging,|we'll have Harry out in nothing flat. Can't see much from here. I'd better|get in down there and look at him. - Let me do the honours.|- OK, Sammy. You've got good eyes. Hey, that isn't a bullet wound. Isn't a bullet wound?|Well, what d'ya know. That's what they call a blow|with a blunt instrument. Huh? What are you thinking, Sammy? I think, Captain Wiles,|we're tangled up in a murder. Murder? If it's murder, who done it? - Who did it?|- That's what I say, who done it? Apart from Jennifer Rogers,|who else'd want to kill him? Apart from Jennifer? - Yeah. Do you think that she would -|- Oh, it's ridiculous. You said she was surprised to see|the body when she came up here. You said she hit him on the head. Coming home from Madagascar once,|we had a fireman on board who hit his head on a brick wall|and died two days later. Where could he find a brick wall|on board a ship? Hmmm, that's what we always wondered. Couldn't have been Jennifer. No. Besides, what's it matter who did it? It'll be better for all of us|if he's buried and out of the way. Nothing doing. I'm not burying|someone else's bad habits. Hmm? Suppose it was Miss Gravely? What? No, it's not as funny as all that. You said yourself she wasn't|particularly startled to see you dragging Harry|up the path. You artists have got no idea|of etiquette. She is a lady of gentle habits and|upbringing who hides her feelings. If I wasn't holding Harry's ankles,|she'd have never mentioned him. Really? When she said... 'What seems to be the trouble,|Captain?', it was nothing more|than a pleasantry, so to speak. Like, 'Nice day, isn't it?' 'I'm|sure, yes. ' Or something like that. Going to help me bury him again? Um... I don't know. 'Course, it might have been|Dr Greenbow or the tramp. - Or Jennifer?|- I told you it couldn't... Well, no point in arguing about it.|Let's get rid of him. OK. You helped me in my hour of need.|I guess it's up to me to help you. We'll file Harry away|once and for all. No more nonsense about it. Come aboard, Miss Gravely,|come aboard. It's just an old salt's|snug anchorage. Small, not palatial like yours,|But homely, very... Won't you sit down, Miss Gravely? Thank you. It's funny. Funny how we got to be|so friendly in one afternoon. I knew you weren't as prim|and starchy as they made out. No. Not by a long shot. - Really?|- No. I'm a man who can recognise|the human qualities in a woman. When I first saw you|down where Harry was - - Captain Wiles.|- Yes, ma'am? Before you make your kind thoughts|known to me, I should like to offer you some|explanation of my sudden invitation to coffee and blueberry muffins|this afternoon and my...|and my sitting with you here now. No, ma'am,|you don't have to explain anything. You came to my aid at a moment of|crisis, for which I'm truly grateful. Thank you, but it's just that|I owe you some reason. No, no, no.|I won't hear a word of it. You saw the predicament I was in|with that body on my hands and you shut your eyes to it in a|most sporting fashion, if I say so. - Captain Wiles.|- Yes, ma'am? I'm trying to tell you the reason|I asked you to coffee and muffins. It was because... I felt - - Sympathy.|- Gratitude. Gra...? But I'm the one|who should be grateful. No, I was grateful.|I... I am grateful. I'm grateful to you|for burying my body. Your body? The man you thought you killed... was the man I hit over the head with|the leather heel of my hiking shoe. You? And with a metal cleat|on the end of it. But why? He annoyed me. I was walking towards home when he suddenly came at me|with a wild look in his eye and insisted... - we were married.|- Oh, you knew each other before. Believe it or not, I had never|seen him before in my life and... if I ever had,|I never would have married him. He must have mistaken you|for someone else. Oh, no, he very definitely|pulled me into the bushes. - Yes?|- I came out again. Go on. He pulled me back. Twice. He swore at me,|horrible, masculine sounds. - I didn't understand it, of course.|- Of course you didn't. - We fought.|- Then what? I won. My shoe had come off|in the struggle, and I hit him. I hit him as hard as ever I could. You killed him. I must have done it.|I was annoyed, Captain. - Very annoyed.|- Naturally. I don't think|I've ever been so annoyed. Consequently, I... I didn't|realise my own capabilities. Whew! Seems to me... Mrs Rogers knocked him silly,|and you finished him off. Why should Mrs Rogers|knock him silly? She was really his wife. Poor woman.|I thought she had better taste. You know, Captain, when I ran away I decided I would|never tell a soul what had happened. Then I met you, and I thought... how convenient it was that you|should think that you had shot him. - Forgive me for thinking that.|- Only natural. That's why I felt... I still feel|under an obligation to you. Oh, not at all. Let's forget it. Oh, no, we mustn't do that.|It would hardly be fair to you. For you to go through life knowing|you had buried a man you didn't kill. You would have my crime|on your conscience. It's a pleasure,|I'm sure. But no. Now I realise that Harry man|was out of his mind, and my action was justifiable, there's no reason we shouldn't let|the authorities know about it. - The authorities?|- Everything will be cleared up. I'm sure Calvin Wiggs and the police won't make a fuss about it|when we explain. Perhaps it needn't get|into the papers at all. Don't you believe it. They love it,|the papers, this kind of thing. Murder and passion. You let Harry be.|Just forget it ever happened. The same as Sammy and me|and Jennifer Rogers are going to do. Oh, but... but it isn't your body. After all, I killed him, so it's only|fair that I should have the say so - - Yes, but -|- Don't you agree? - Well, in a way -|- I thought you would. I tell you what, Captain. - We'll go and get a spade now.|- But ma'am - And after we've dug him up,|we'll go back to my place and I'll make you|some hot chocolate. Arnie's so tired he'll sleep all day|and half the night. I think you've got a pretty house,|Jennifer. It's the best I could do|on Robert's insurance. - Sugar?|- No, black, thanks. It's funny, but... I feel awful comfortable with you,|Sam. You know, I feel the same way too. It's a good feeling, feeling comfortable with someone|who feels that way too. There is one thing|I feel uncomfortable about. Just tell me what it is,|and I'll take care of it for you. - It's Harry. What about Harry?|- Harry? Don't you think about Harry. Harry's part of the earth.|He's with eternity, the ages. Take my word for it,|Harry's ancient history. Come in, whoever it is. What happened? Sam, I've got something to tell you. No, Captain,|I have something to tell him. Now who's going to tell what? I killed Harry|with the heel of my shoe. So it was you. We're on our way to get Calvin Wiggs. - And have him call the state police.|- I keep telling her there's no need. He's right and, besides, it'd be|indecent. Harry's dead and buried. Sam, I've got something to tell you. You haven't dug him up again. Well, I... I insisted, Mr Marlowe. - Don't you understand?|- You have nothing to fear. It's my concern entirely. As soon as Captain Wiles told me the|full circumstances of his being here I knew there was nothing for me|to hide. You know all about Harry? Well, I'm afraid I do, Mrs Rogers,|and... and after all, nobody could possibly|gossip about a lady and a maniac. You'd be surprised. You don't quite understand|what murder involves, Miss Gravely. It'd be hours and hours|of questioning and photographs, and the whole of your private life|spread indecently in the newspapers. What makes you think|my private life is indecent? I didn't mean that. I meant that|the way they pry is indecent. They'll hound you to death. There'll be newspapermen,|photographers, detectives. I've made up my mind. She certainly has. It was Captain Wiles here|who persuaded me to call and tell Mrs Rogers|what I proposed to do. After all, she is most closely|connected with the business. What do you think about it,|Mrs Rogers? I can't see why you're all|making such a fuss about Harry. If he was buried, I don't see|why you had to dig him up. But since you have, I guess|you'd better do what you think best. I don't care what you do with him,|as long as you don't revive him. I have a free hand, then. Free as a bird. As far as I'm|concerned, it's ancient history. Wait a minute, Jennifer. I think we've forgotten something. Do you realise if this comes out,|that all the details of your marriage will be public property? Oh. - I hadn't thought of that either.|- Where'd you put Harry this time? Over by the big oak tree. - I'll get my shovel.|- I'm causing you a lot of hard work. - I'm sorry.|- Not at all, Not at all. Well, let's all go up there. You know, I've never been to a|home-made funeral before. Hm. I have. This is my third. All in one day. Well, let's get it over with. Yes. I think we ought to cement it over. Next spring|I'll set out some blueberry bushes. Couldn't you make it|something else? Lilac, maybe. I think nature'll|will take good care of it. - How about a service?|- I Can't think of what to say. - Besides, my arms ache.|- It's late for a prayer. Besides, wherever he was going,|he's there now. Bye, Harry. I forgive you. - Trumpets welcoming Harry.|- You didn't know Harry. I want to paint you, Jennifer.|You're beautiful in the moonlight. Sounds as if it's|coming down from near the village. I know what it is.|The call of the phantom stagecoach that used to pass by here|each night 200 years ago. - Phantom ghost?|- The turnpike ran across the hills. Oh, to be a highwayman|on a night like this. Listen. Somebody's running. - Horses?|- A horse that can shout. - What's she saying?|- We'll know soon. She's coming here. - Sam Marlowe!|- It's Wiggy. Old Wiggy. Mr Marlowe! Mr Marlowe! - Wiggy, what on earth do you want?|- I... He wants... - Wait a minute, Catch your breath.|- He's a millionaire! - Who?|- He wants to buy your pictures. - Which pictures?|- All of 'em and more besides. He says you're a genius. He's right, but it's hard to believe|he wants to buy all my pictures. I'd be too curious|to refuse to at least to talk to him. Don't turn down|a good chance, Mr Marlowe. All right, I'll talk to him. - We dug sassafras root.|- Sassafras tea is healthy. Mr Wiggs always swore it cured|his arthritis just before he died. How much does|the millionaire want to pay? I said seven dollars for the one that|looks like blobs in a thunderstorm. - And?|- He said they are priceless. Priceless? Sounds like|something I painted in kindergarten. That picture is symbolic|to the beginning of the world. That's where I first heard|of the world, in kindergarten. Yes, and my friend here, art critic|for the modern museum, he - Don't think I'm rude, but it doesn't|matter to me what an art critic says. - Is that so?|- I know my paintings are good. He doesn't want them, you do. So|all that matters is what you think. Well, I think they are works of|genius, and I want to buy them all. - Too bad.|- Why? Just decided I can't sell them.|Besides, you couldn't afford them. Oh. - Uh...|- Money. Sammy. Don't be a fool.|Make him pay through the nose. Go ahead, Mr Marlowe, be reasonable. - Be unreasonable, if you want.|- What do you say? It's your genius, Sam.|It's up to you. All right then. What do you like most|in the whole world? I don't know. Strawberries, I guess. Strawberries. Write that down. Two boxes of fresh strawberries, each|month, in season and out of season, from now on. Well, it's simple. What else? What would Arnie like? A chemical set. - What kind?|- Whatever smells the worst. - Got that?|- Right. One smelly chemical set. Wiggy, Wiggy, what would you like? Cash register, chromium plated,|one that rings a bell. - Got room for one?|- I'll find room. - Cash register.|- Chromium plated, rings a bell. Check. Miss Gravely,|a beauty parlour, fully equipped? What for? A hope chest... filled with things|I should have put in it but didn't. A hope chest, full of hope. Captain? A good shotgun, plenty of ammunition, some corduroy britches, a plain shirt|and a hunting cap. A brown one. Davy Crockett, the works. Well, that's it, I guess. - The paintings are yours.|- Yes, but what about you? Yes, Sam,|you've gotta ask for something. Well, let's see. That's it. What's it? Pardon me. What do you think? Yes,|I think that can be easily arranged. Well. That's it, then. I'll come back in the morning|for all these paintings. Mr Marlowe, this has been a night that I shall|remember the rest of my life. Come back again. I'll have some more|paintings for you next month. And you'll have a steady customer|in me, even if you raise your prices. - Well, good night, everyone.|- Good night. All right, young man. Congratulations, Sammy!|Good boy! - Did I do the right thing?|- You did just the right thing, Sam. Good. Because it's important to me|that you think so. Why? Because I love you.|I want to marry you. Oh! - You want to marry me?|- Uh-huh. Why not? Well...|because I just got my freedom today. Easy come, easy go. Besides, if you married me,|you'd keep your freedom. You must be practically unique, then. I respect freedom.|More than that, I love freedom. We might be the only free|married couple in the world. This is very sudden, Sam. You'll have to give me|a little time to think about it. Only fair. I'll give you|until we get back to your house. - What's goin' on here at this hour?|- The most wonderful thing. Mr Marlowe sold all his paintings|to a millionaire. - Got more'n I ever figured he'd get.|- Money? Well, not exactly money. I always knew|they weren't worth the space. I found these on a tramp|hangin' 'round here. Said he found 'em on a... dead man. Took me to where he said|he found him, and... I didn't see any body. Montpelier 2000. - That's the state police.|- Uh huh. I think, uh, we'd better get going. Thank you for the cash register. It was a pleasure. Good night. Good night. Good night. - Good night.|- Good night. Good night, Captain. This is Deputy Sheriff Calvin Wiggs. Yeah, I'll wait. Ma? Yes? - This picture here on the floor.|- It's a new one. He did it today,|but it isn't for sale. - Why not?|- You'll have to ask him that. He left it on his way|over to Jennifer Roger's house. Guess he didn't have time|to take it home. You suddenly got interested in art? No. But... it's just that it matches|the description of - Oh, hello, Sergeant. Calvin Wiggs. Got something|that might interest you a little. It seems I picked up this tramp|with a pair of stolen shoes... and a wild story about a corpse. What do you think? Him walking in|with Harry Worp's shoes in his hand? And then that phone call|to the police? I don't know. I may be wrong, but I|don't think he's tied us into it yet. Oh, the way he looked at me. If he'd known anything,|he'd have kept us there. But modern police methods|are all psychological now, Sammy. They just wear you down|and wear you down until... you're almost grateful|to get into that gas chamber. The police would probably tell him,|if the shoes fit, to keep them. Oh, well. - I've decided, Sam.|- Decided what? I will marry you, if you haven't|forgotten about asking me. I'm... I'm very fond of you and... I think you'd make a good father|for Arnie. And for some other reasons|best left unsaid. Marriage is the comfortable way|to spend the winter, but right now we should be|working on some good story to satisfy the State Police|if they should turn up. Would you believe it?|I'd almost forgotten that proposal. - I have witnesses, Sam.|- Oh, I remember now. All right,|you've got yourself a husband. I think I'll kiss you now|to prove it. Lightly, Sam.|I have a very short fuse. What a pretty sight. Sam, what did you ask|the millionaire for? That's very practical. - Congratulations, my dear.|- You're a lucky man, Sammy. - I think you'll both be very happy.|- Thank you. If I grumbled too much at my share of|the work in burying Harry, I'm sorry. I can see now it was well worth it. - And if I can do anything else -|- Hold it! Hold it, hold it! What's wrong, Sam? Harry. We're not quite finished|with him yet. Sam, if anybody's through, it's|Harry. He's been buried three times. Before we can get married, you're|gonna have to prove that you're free. To prove you're free, you'll|have to prove that Harry - Is dead. What a horrible complication. Oh! I don't know that it is. What are you looking at me for?|You... Sammy, I'll do anything to help you,|but please, please don't ask me to dig up|Harry again! - Oh, come, come now, Captain.|- No, we can't. - You're thinking of bad publicity -|- No, I'm not. I think Sam would be worth|just about anything. I'm thinking of you, Miss Gravely. Murder is murder, no matter how|exonerating the circumstances. It just wouldn't look nice at all|for you. That's right!|Better let him stay where he is. You'll only have to wait seven years|to presume death, anyway. - Seven years! I'll be an old man.|- Don't be silly. You waited far longer|than seven years already. Yes, but now I know|what I'm waiting for. I insist that you dig|the wretched man up. I don't care a hoot what they say. They'd only have to know me to|realise the man must have been mad. - I disagree! Huh!|- Really, Captain Wiles? Well... I'll dig him up but we'd better|get it done before Calvin Wiggs gets the state police|snooping around here. I've been thinking. I've been thinking maybe we could|forget the way it really happened. I could tell how Harry visited me|and went off in such a rage today and that's all we'd need to know|about his being there. No, somebody else|might get the blame. And somebody else might not|have such a good reason as I did. What do you mean 'somebody else'? I can think of two people with|a good reason for having killed him. First you, because you married him.|And now Sam. Me? Why would I want to kill him?|I never met him before. You could still have a reason|for killing him. - She means me.|- Yes. I didn't fall in love with Jennifer|until after Harry was dead. Try telling that to the police. She's right, Sammy boy. On second thought, we'd better stick|to the truth, what there is of it. We must think up a reason why the|police weren't informed before now. Yes, then there's the condition he's|in. That will take some explaining. We'll just clean him up a bit. It's horrible,|but there's nothing else we can do. We can't risk complicating|Miss Gravely's confession. As for the delay, I can explain that|I was so upset by the occurrence that I went straight home and rested. - Only natural.|- They'll think you had a long rest. Sam, I'd rather not spend|the whole night debating. Let's get Harry someplace|and clean him up. Let's get out of here. Love alters not|with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out|even to the edge of doom, If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. I, uh, I think he met with a bit|of an accident, Dr Greenbow. He certainly did. Which of you found him? - Well -|- He was my husband, Doctor. Oh, Mrs Rogers. I didn't know you|had a husband. I'm awfully sorry. It's all right, Doctor.|It's just life, I guess. - What happened to him?|- Well, he - We want to know too. Can you say what|caused his death? It was so sudden. In this light, my opinion|would be little more than a guess. In that case, we could take him|someplace where you could see better. All right, but I need my bag.|Where should we meet? I'll take Harry home to my house. Going home for the last time. Better be the last time. Come on, Sam. I've got|about one more trip left in me. I'll get your coats. I'll get the suspenders on. I can't wait for this to be ready.|I'll have to iron it dry. Isn't it odd? After refusing for so long, here|I am finally doing Harry's laundry. Ah!|Look. It's nothing to get excited about,|Captain. It's only a closet door. Oh. I thought it was Harry. Relax, Captain. What about the cut I made on his head|with my hiking shoe? Hmm.|I'll put some adhesive tape on it. They'll think it was done|before he died. After the shirt's finished,|it should be just about everything. - If that who I think it is -|- Calvin Wigg's car. Just one second. Well, Calvin Wiggs. What a surprise. - Sam here?|- Yes, yes, yes, he's here. Can I see him a minute? - Sam?|- Yeah? - Calvin Wiggs is here to see you.|- Tell him I'll be right out. - He says he'll be right out.|- Why don't I just go on in? Evening, Calvin. Evening, Captain Wiles.|Miss Gravely. We've got 'em on the run|in four spades. They should have been in diamonds.|Play much bridge? - Never play it.|- That's what I thought. Something you wanted, Calvin? - Where were you today, Sam?|- Working, as usual. Somewheres down|by Mansfield Meadows? Possibly. I do quite a bit|of sketching around. Why? Is that where, uh... Where you painted this? I left that portrait|with your mother. What right do you have to carry it|around with you? It might be damaged. Yeah. It could be priceless,|and Sam would lose a sale. Oh, I'll send him a box of|blueberries the first of every month. Sam, what I wanna know is where'd|you paint it and who is it. First of all, it's not a painting,|it's a drawing. Matter of fact, it's a pastel and...|as for the model... - It just came to me out of the blue.|- You don't say. Why are you acting|like a deputy sheriff? That tramp I picked up,|the one with the stolen shoes? Said he got 'em off a dead man? He described him very carefully. The|description fits the picture exactly. A tramp who probably can't keep|his job and drinks too much. I wouldn't think his word|was very reliable. Got him locked up|in the schoolhouse. - I took the painting to show him -|- Drawing, if you don't mind. I took the drawing to show him. He almost fainted.|Said it was the same face. Where'd you paint it, Sam? From my vast subconscious. Sam, I hate to say this,|but I don't believe you. With all this talk,|I've lost interest in the game. If you'll forgive me,|I'll just run along home. I'll see you all tomorrow. What do you mean,|you don't believe me? What I mean, Sam...|I ain't educated in fancy art... but I do know the face of a dead|man when I see one, and this is it. Calvin, perhaps I can|educate you to, um, 'fancy art. ' See this -|Portrait of a sleeping face. A man, relaxed,|far removed from earthly cares. It was conceived out of memory|and half-forgotten impulse, and it emerged from the shadows|of abstract emotions, until it was born full-grown from... the mechanical realities|of my fingertips. - Oh, now Sam, don't -|- I don't need a model to draw from. Instead of creating a sleeping face,|I could have... chosen an entirely different set|of artistic stimuli. My subconscious is peopled|with enough faces to cover the Earth. And the construction of the human|anatomy is so infinitely variable as to lie beyond the wildest powers|of calculation. Now, a raised eyelid, perhaps. A line of fullness to the cheek. Lip that bends with expression. There. - Sam, do you know what you just did?|- Certainly. I just showed you how clearly|you misinterpreted my art. You just destroyed legal evidence. Calvin, it appears to me|you still don't understand. I understand you made kind of a fool|out of me. But I still got enough evidence|to know something funny's going on. I ain't goin' to sleep|till I find out what it is. Good night, Calvin. Hey! What's he doin' in our bathtub? - That's where frogs belong.|- Oh. - Back to bed, Arnie. Back to bed.|- State troopers here in the morning. I'm gonna want 'em to have a talk|with you, so be around. - I said back to bed.|- You can find me in my studio. Just make sure. Where is he? He... he's in the bathroom|playing with his frog. Oh? Um... This way, please, Doctor. It's Arnie. He's not very well. Someone must be foolin' around|with my car. What are you playin'|with the horn for? It ain't your car. Well, things are funny, you know? Me and Miss Gravely might be in the|car market. We're looking for a car. Yes. Had a look at this one.|It's a beauty. I want to keep it that way. Now, now, that's not the way|to talk to a prospective customer. You're no prospective customer.|You can't afford this car. He's gone. I put the little...|I put Arnie back to bed. - What'd the doctor say?|- He said for me to get out. I didn't like the look in his eye.|Something seems to be bothering him. Well, Captain,|did you get over being frightened? Frightened? Oh, no, that's not why I left. No. I'm not easily frightened,|you know. No. Why, after all those years sailing|the four corners of the globe, strange ports, a lot of rough men|and... Miss Gravely, what would you say... if I told you... I was only the captain|of a tugboat... on the East River... and never got more than a mile|or so off shore? Well, I would say that... that you were the handsomest|tugboat captain that ever sailed up the East River. Oh, maybe not. No. You want to see something?|Here. Here. - Captain.|- Where'd you get those? Calvin Wiggs' car. I figured you were handling|half the evidence, Sammy, so it was up to me|to take care of the rest. You're the sweetest captain. Why is he in the bath? Well, uh...|What'd you find out, Doctor? Oh, that.|It was his heart. He had a seizure. - His heart?|- A seizure! Well, I'll take a trip|to the Philippines! - Death from natural causes.|- Well, certainly. But will somebody tell me what he's|doin' in the bathtub half undressed? Frankly, we didn't want|Calvin Wiggs to see him. Besides, he was awful dirty|after we dug him up. Dug him up? I'd better explain, Doctor, you see, Harry's been buried and dug up|on and off all day long. What? Finally, he caused so many|complications that we decided to clean him up|and put him back where we found him. I don't understand you.|What complications? Well, for example, he upset Captain Wiles because the|captain thought he had shot him. The hole in the head. But as it|turned out, it wasn't the captain. Miss Gravely hit him with the heel|of her shoe after he attacked her. Captain Wiles attacked Miss Gravely? Oh, no, Doctor, Harry. He dragged her into the bushes,|thinking it was me. He was dazed, I supposed, after I hit|him on the head with a milk bottle. The captain and Sam buried him first. The captain was so scared. Then he accounted for all his|bullets, so up Harry came. Then Miss Gravely thought her shoe|was responsible for it so - - Shoe?|- So the captain, rather gallantly, I thought,|pushed him back in again. Then he was out and back and...|I can't remember why. But anyway, he's out again now|because Sam and I wanna get married. - Yeah. But why did you -|- Hit him on the head? That wouldn't interest you.|It's purely personal and non-medical. Besides, it's awfully late, so if|you'll keep quiet about all this, we'll put Harry back in the morning,|nice and clean, and no one will be any the wiser. And then we'll be rid of all these|sticky complications. Put him back, put him back,|that's all. This is the first nightmare|I've had in 25 years. He's kinda strange, isn't he? Well, um,|hadn't we better get Harry dressed? Yes, yes. Couldn't Arnie find him again? Then he'd run home and tell me,|and then I'd phone Calvin Wiggs. Yes! Arnie could explain|quite clearly to Calvin - - That he found Harry tomorrow.|- You mean today. But to Arnie, tomorrow is yesterday. Let's go get Harry. Come on, Captain. Here he comes. Go on, Arnie.|Run home and tell me about it. Don't touch him. Please, Arnie, run home|and tell your mother. Beat it, you little creep! I mean, hurry home, son. Captain, you never told me|your first name. Albert. What's yours? Ivy. Albert, let's go. Just a minute, ma'am.|I want to ask Sam something. Sam, what did you ask the millionaire|to bring you? Albert, what was it? A double bed. |
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