Trouble with Harry, The (1955) Movie Script
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.
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.