The Trouble with Harry (1955) - full transcript

There is a dead well-dressed man in a meadow clearing in the hills above a small Vermont town. Captain Albert Wiles, who stumbles across the body and finds by the man's identification that his name is Harry Worp, believes he accidentally shot Harry dead while he was hunting rabbits. Captain Wiles wants to hide the body as he feels it is an easier way to deal with the situation than tell the authorities. While Captain Wiles is in the adjacent forest, he sees other people stumble across Harry, most of whom don't seem to know him or care or notice that he's dead. One person who does see Captain Wiles there is spinster Ivy Gravely, who vows to keep the Captain's secret about Harry. Captain Wiles also Secretly sees a young single mother, Jennifer Rogers, who is the one person who does seem to know Harry and seems happy that he's dead. Later, another person who stumbles across both Harry and Captain Wiles is struggling artist Sam Marlowe, to who Captain Wiles tells the entire story of what he has seen thus far. Over the course of the day, several revelations come to light that question if Captain Wiles actually killed Harry. Sam, Mrs. Rogers, Captain Wiles and Miss Gravely's individual and collective actions in the matter of Harry take into account friendship, self-preservation, the path of least resistance, love and a lot of realizations about what their past actions will mean. Their work may all be for naught if Deputy Sheriff Calvin Wiggs, the closest thing to law enforcement in their town, finds out about Harry.


Okay, 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.
Hmm.
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.
A harmless potshot 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.
If you're going to get yourself shot, do it where you're known.
"Mr. Harry Worp, 87 Maple Avenue, Boston, Massachusetts."
Well, Worp, you're a long way from home.
By the looks of it, you won't get back for Christmas.
We're going to have a cold, hard winter.
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?
Well, 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.
- Do 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 going to 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 or something.
It was a human error.
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 there running amok with a machete.
Captain, if I were going to hide an accident, I shouldn't delay.
You're right as rain, Miss Gravely.
Yes, you know something? I'm glad I met you today.
I feel better for telling somebody as warm, tender, understanding as yourself.
On the contrary, Captain, 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.
This is certainly something of an interesting surprise.
And perhaps a touch of elderberry wine.
After all, we've been neighbors 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'd better be going along now.
You 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 you, 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 do something?
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.
Now you just forget you ever saw this man.
Is there a special way to forget?
Just think of something else.
I think I'll try not to see him tomorrow, Mommy.
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.
Might as well sit here till the rest of the world comes by
to pay their last respects.
Sooner or later one of them has to turn out to be the deputy sheriff.
Flaggin' the train that's goin' 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. Marlow.
Wiggy, you haven't sold a painting.
All my pictures in the same place.
So few cars. They don't seem to —
- Guess the cider takes their attention. - Cider?
Cider, indeed. Throw it away! Drink it!
No, I hate cider.
Not a picture sold.
I'm sorry, Mr. Marlow. Let's get a look at your new one. Hold it up.
What good would it do to show it to you? You don't deserve to see it.
How am I going to eat?
Mr. Wiggs always used to thump his stomach when he got mad.
He busted something inside once.
You think we'd do any better on Fifth Avenue?
If there's more people there.
Oh, lots of people. Hundreds and thousands and billions of people.
Well, 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 those old cars he always works on?
He sells them. Mechanical antiques.
Doesn't make much, but he needs the money.
Doesn't he get paid for being deputy sheriff?
Piecework. Gets paid by the arrest, I think.
Oh. Mr. Marlow, it's wonderful.
I've been in a tortured mood lately.
What is it?
Good old Wiggy, my sternest critic.
I don't understand your work. I think it's beautiful.
So does Mrs. Rogers.
Oh! You talk about me?
She's the pretty woman with the little boy, isn't she?
Mmm-hmm.
I only brought up your name once when we were talking about strange people.
Huh?
That is, strangers. People she hadn't met yet.
And what does the pretty little thing say about me?
Nothin'.
I think we better discuss business. Now, my shopping list.
I'll go in and start puttin' it up.
Say, Wiggy, how do you spell Tuscaloosa?
Sam?
Hi, Calvin.
- You hear any shootin' a while back? - Nope.
Well, 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 do you got against people doing a little shooting now and then?
Let off a little 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.
And I got a good mind to scout around, find out who's doin' the shootin'
and level a little fine.
And pick up a little piecework?
If I can do anything to make it any harder for you, let me know.
How do you want your bacon, Mr. Marlow?
- What were you saying? - I asked how you want your bacon.
Sliced.
Where's 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 marvelous pictures.
Someone told me they were yours.
Why don't you sell them, make a lot of money?
Never thought of that. Guess I'll just have to think about it.
And that song. You sing it so beautifully.
You wrote it yourself, of course.
- What do you want to borrow? - Oh, dear.
I just think people need encouragement sometimes, don't you, Mr. Marlow?
- How do you know my name? - Well, it's on the pictures, isn't it?
Not supposed to be readable.
You 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.
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.
All right, Mr. Marlow.
Bacon, beans, cabbage, sugar, salt,
tea, oleo margarine. $1 .95.
Don't forget half a package of cigarettes.
- Oh, yes. Ten cents. $2.05. - That much?
Don't seem to be able to find —
I know, Mr. Marlow. As soon as we sell some of your paintings.
Just a minute, Mr. Marlow.
Let me make my position clear.
What do you think?
I think it'll hold coffee.
Would you try it, Mr. Marlow?
Put your finger through the handle, please.
How about the size? What about the handle?
Hmm?
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 the finger size got to do with it?
Um — 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, Miss Gravely.
Think we've got a nearsighted cider customer.
How old do you think I am, young man?
Mmm —
Fifty. How old do you think you are?
Forty-two.
I can show you my birth certificate.
I'm afraid you're gonna have to show more
than your birth certificate to convince a man of that.
What do you mean?
I 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?
Well, I think I'll just go out and see what that gentleman wants.
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.
Uh —
- This your body, little man? - Oh, 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 have happened to you.
Suppose we straighten this whole thing out?
Well, 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.
Well, the larder was empty,
and I got to thinking about a toothful of fried rabbit —
Stands to reason 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 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.
Then you come along, and you shoot him
and heaven's will is done and destiny fulfilled.
Your conscience is quite clear.
You got nothing to worry about.
Sammy, I haven't got a conscience
and it's not heaven that's worrying me
'cause 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 them.
Bury him, I say, and have 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 little 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 downright hysterical with delight.
What was she like?
Pretty as a rainbow. Wish I was two years younger.
- And with a little boy? - About four or five years of age.
It's got to be Mrs. Rogers and her son.
Sammy,
what do you say we slip him underground now that you've finished drawing him? Eh?
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 will 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 are they, the police, going to think?
What about that envelope with his name and address on it?
By rights you should mail him back home.
Sammy, have you forgotten
who carries the mail down to the station every night?
Calvin Wiggs, deputy sheriff.
Yes, you're right.
Tell you what we'll do.
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?
A lot of good.
If she's just a distant friend of his
who doesn't intend to notify the authorities,
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're not the one.
Oh, Sam, she could do a lot worse, you know.
Couldn't do any better.
Just think, you'll be establishing a precedent.
I'm not establishing nothing.
I'm going over for some blueberry muffins and coffee
by her own invitation.
And, possibly, some elderberry wine.
Do you realize that you'll be the first man to
cross her threshold?
Hmm.
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.
Yes. 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.
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.
Is there something else you wanted, Mr. Marlow, isn't it?
You certainly are a lovely woman. I'd like to paint you nude.
Some other time, Mr. Marlow. I was about to make Arnie some lemonade.
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
Perhaps I've come at an awkward moment.
If you want to undress me, you have.
It wasn't exactly that. I came here to talk to you about something
but after I saw you, it slipped my mind.
- Couldn't have been very important, then. - Yes, you're right.
Why don't you sit down on the porch?
I'll get you a lemonade, and maybe you'll think of it.
You're not only beautiful, you're considerate, too.
- Arnie! - Hello, Mr. Marlow.
Hi. What have you got? A rabbit?
Dead. What have you got?
Oh!
I got me a little frog.
There he is.
It's hungry. It needs a mother.
- 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 rabbits' feet, and he got killed.
He should have carried a four-leaf clover, too.
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.
- Hmm. Perhaps I'll come back tomorrow. - When's that?
Day after today.
That's yesterday. Today's tomorrow.
It was?
When was tomorrow yesterday, Mr. Marlow?
- Today. - Oh, sure. Yesterday.
You'll never make sense out of Arnie. He's got his own timing.
- Lemonade, Arnie? - I already swiped two glasses.
- I would have given you two glasses. - It's more fun swiped.
- Can I borrow your rabbit, Mr. Marlow? - 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 you going now?
To make some more trades.
- Arnie, come home in time for supper. - I'll try.
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?
- 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 be the kind that was "too good."
Well, he was. Horribly good.
I like your mouth, too.
Especially when you say "good."
- Will you have some more lemonade? - Maybe later. Thanks.
Where'd Arnie get the rabbit?
He found it. I think Captain Wiles shot it.
I'd like to hear more of your life story, if you don't mind.
You see, we don't know quite what to do with Harry.
Thought you might have some 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.
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 everything and get married.
Did you?
Oh, yes.
And then Robert got killed.
Oh?
I was heartbroken
for six weeks, and then I discovered little Arnie was on the way.
- Must have been a shock. - 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 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. Marlow?
About thirty.
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 had worked myself into a certain 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, no, not at all.
- How about some more lemonade? - Soon.
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?
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 had 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?
Well, she thought I should live with him, but I wouldn't.
He pestered me to go back, but I always refused.
Suppose some night I wanted him to do something.
Like the dishes, for example.
His horoscope just 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.
Soon as Arnie was born
I moved away 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 did you feel?
I felt sick.
Did you see his moustache and his wavy hair?
When I saw him, he was dead.
He looked the same when he was alive, except he was vertical.
So he entered. What did you say?
Nothing. I hit him over the head with a milk bottle and knocked him silly.
Silly?
Bats. Tappy.
He went staggering 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.
Yeah.
You certainly know how to make a man feel wanted.
Won't you come in, Captain?
Thank you. 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 them 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, Miss Gravely. Not at all.
I'm used to looking on the rough side of things.
I'm a man who's faced death many times.
Rather recently, too.
Yes.
Arnie, what are you carrying there?
A rabbit.
A rabbit?
- What do you call it? - Dead.
- It ain't mine. - Whose is it?
Yours. You shot it with your gun.
You must have killed it today.
It should make a nice stew for you.
A rabbit! I finally killed a rabbit!
- Where did you find it? - In the blueberry muffins.
- What? - Out in the woods.
Here you are. One muffin for one rabbit. Fair enough?
That was a two-muffin rabbit.
- I gotta go now. - Oh.
Mmm —
It's certainly a nice afternoon, Miss Gravely.
Isn't it.
Yes, and you're a nice woman.
And I think you're awfully nice, Captain Wiles.
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 and —
Never mind, Captain. You're right.
Yes, underground is the best place for Harry.
He seems comfortable, Sam. Very comfortable and snug.
We'd better find a place and get it dug, and the sooner the better.
If what you're telling me about Mrs. Rogers and her husband is right,
I agree with you, Sammy.
Let's find a place.
No use making hard work out of it.
We need a place where the earth is soft.
Yeah, and a place where the whole town won't stumble over us as we work.
A place with a certain character and attractiveness.
Facing west, so that Harry can watch the setting sun.
- Where it'll be cozy in winter. - And cool in the summer.
You know, I'm half envying Harry.
Wouldn't take much longer to dig it twice as wide.
Thanks for your kindness, but some other time.
- This looks like a good place. - Ah!
You're a lucky fellow, Harry Worp.
- Come on, Captain, 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 have thought of that before you went hunting this morning.
Calvin Wiggs. What do 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.
Gives me the creeps.
What? Come on. Let's get Harry and pop him in.
With hasty reverence.
Would you like to say a few words, Captain?
That 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.
Suppose he knows Harry Worp came up here?
Sammy, that's as horrible a thought as you've ever had.
And that he wonders what happened to Harry or where he is?
My only answer is to keep on scraping, and fast.
You know, 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, Sammy?
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.
Oh, no need to get huffy. I don't want to talk about your affairs.
I've got affairs of my own.
You mean my protégée?
- Come again? - Miss Gravely.
The lady that I renovated down 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 very nice lady, Sam.
- Very nice. - We're all nice.
I don't see how anyone could help but like us.
That's just how I feel today.
I don't know whether I've grown rose-colored glasses or if —
Or if you're in love?
Ah —
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?
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?
Oh, 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 —
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.
Don't sit there. Help me! You helped bury him.
Even if you didn't kill him, why go digging him up
now that he's so beautifully planted?
I've 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 much more of a job explaining a body you didn't kill and buried
than a body that you killed accidentally 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 little bit.
You wouldn't like me to go through life
not knowing if I've killed him or not, would you?
Very inconsistent. First you tell me you've got no conscience.
Now you talk about something that sounds remarkably like a conscience.
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, and it's no good saying I won't.
All right. If I had my choice
I'd rather be thought a murderer than proved one.
Thank you, Sam.
With two of us digging, we'll have Harry up out of here in nothing flat.
Can't see much from here. I'd better get in down there and look at him.
Let me do the honors, Captain.
All right, Sammy, you've got good eyes.
- That isn't a bullet wound. - "Isn't a bullet wound"?
Well, what do you 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.
If it's murder, who done it?
- Who "did" it? - That's what I say, who done it?
Apart from Jennifer Rogers, who else would want to kill him?
- "Apart from Jennifer"? - Yeah.
- Do you think that she would — - That'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?
Mmm. 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, Sammy. I'm not burying someone else's bad habits.
- Mmm? 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.
Miss Gravely is a lady of gentle habits and upbringing.
A lady to hide her feelings. If I hadn't been holding Harry by the ankles
I don't suppose she'd have mentioned him at all.
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."
- Yes, or something like that. - Going to help me bury him again?
Mmm —
I don't know.
Of course, it might have been Dr. Greenbow or the tramp or —
- Or Jennifer? - I told you it couldn't —
No point in arguing about it. Let's get rid of him.
All right, Sammy. You've 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. - Yeah.
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 home —
- Won't you sit down, Miss Gravely? - Thank you.
It's funny, you know. Funny how we got to be so friendly in one afternoon.
I knew you weren't as prim and starchy as they made out.
Not by a long shot.
- Really? - No.
I'm a man who can recognize 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 all,
and you shut your eyes to it in a most sporting fashion, if I may say so.
Captain Wiles. Yes, ma'am?
I'm trying to tell you that the reason that I asked you
to coffee and blueberry muffins
was because I felt —
- Sympathy. - Gratitude.
But I'm the one who should be grateful.
No, I was grateful. 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.
Then you'd known each other before.
Believe it or not, Captain, 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.
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 them, of course. - 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 realize my own capabilities.
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.
- You must forgive me for thinking that. - Only natural.
That's why I felt — I still feel under an obligation to you.
Not at all. Let's forget it.
No, we mustn't do that. It would hardly be fair to you —
I mean, for you to go through life
knowing that you had buried a man you didn't kill.
You would have my crime on your conscience.
It's a pleasure, I'm sure.
No.
Now I realize that Harry man was out of his mind
and my action was justifiable, there's — There's no reason
we shouldn't let the authorities know about it.
- The authorities? - Everything will be cleared up nicely.
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, ma'am. 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 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.
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.
Now he'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 Worp with the leather heel of my hiking 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. Marlow.
- 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 after all
nobody could possibly gossip about a lady and a maniac.
You'd be surprised.
I mean, you don't quite understand
what murder involves, Miss Gravely.
There'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, and photographers, and 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 propose 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.
Frankly, I don't care what you do with Harry.
Just as long as you don't bring him back to life.
- I have a free hand then. - Free as a bird.
As far as I'm concerned, it's ancient history.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Jennifer.
I think we've forgotten something.
Do you realize, if this thing comes out,
that all the details of your marriage
will be public property?
Oh —
I must confess, 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 afraid I'm causing you rather 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 homemade funeral before.
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? Lilacs, maybe?
- I think nature will take good care of it. - How about a little service?
I can't think of anything to say. Besides, my arms ache.
It's too late to say prayers. Besides, wherever he was going, he's there now.
Bye, Harry. I forgive you.
- Trumpets welcoming Harry. - You didn't know Harry.
I'd like to paint you like that, Jennifer.
You look beautiful, glistening in the moonlight.
Sounds as if it's coming down from near the village.
I know what it is.
It's the call of the phantom stagecoach
that used to pass by here each night 200 years ago.
- Phantom coach? - The old turnpike
used to run right across those foothills over there.
Oh, to be a highwayman on a night like this.
Listen. Somebody's running.
Horses?
- If it's a horse, it's learned how to shout. - What's she saying?
We'll know in a minute. She's coming this way.
- Sam Marlow! - It's Wiggy, old Wiggy.
Mr. Marlow, Mr. Marlow.
Wiggy, 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, Mr. Marlow.
- Which pictures? - All of 'em and more besides.
He says you're a genius.
He's right, but it's still hard to believe he wants to buy all my pictures.
I'd be too curious to refuse at least to talk to him.
Don't turn down a good chance, Mr. Marlow.
All right, all right. I'll talk to him.
- Sassafras root. - Sassafras tea's mighty good for you.
Mr. Wiggs always swore it cured his arthritis just before he died.
How much does the millionaire want to pay?
Well, I asked seven dollars for that one that looks like a lot of blobs of color
- caught in a thunderstorm. - And?
Said he couldn't think of it.
- Said they were priceless. - Priceless?
Sounds like something I painted in kindergarten.
I'll have you know, that picture's symbolic of the beginning of the world.
That's where I first heard of the world, at kindergarten.
Yes, and my friend here, art critic for the Modern Museum, he says —
Don't think I'm rude, but it doesn't matter to me what an art critic says.
- Oh, is that so? - See, 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're 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.
Money.
Sammy, don't be a fool. Make him pay through the nose.
Go ahead, Mr. Marlow. 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
first of 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, 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. One that rings a bell?
Check.
Miss Gravely, a beauty parlor fully equipped?
What for?
A hope chest filled with the things I should have put in it and 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. Marlow, this has been a night that I shall remember the rest of my life.
Come back again. 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.
- You want to marry me? - Why not?
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 till we get back to your house.
What's goin' on here this time o' night?
The most wonderful thing happened!
Mr. Marlow 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 anybody.
Montpelier-2000.
- That's the state police number. - Uh-huh.
I think we'd better get going.
Thank you, Mr. Marlow, for the cash register.
It was a pleasure. Good night.
Good night. Good night.
Good night, Captain.
This is Deputy Sheriff, Calvin Wiggs.
Yeah, I'll wait.
Ma?
- 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 Rogers' house.
Guess he didn't have time to take it home.
You suddenly got interested in art?
No.
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.
Psychological.
They just wear you down and wear you down until
you're almost grateful to get into that gas chamber.
The police will probably tell him if the shoes fit, to keep them.
- I've decided, Sam. - Decided what?
I will marry you
if you haven't forgotten about asking me.
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. - 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. - Thank you.
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.
- 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.
Well, 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?
Sammy, 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.
If you're thinking of the 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 and —
It just wouldn't look nice at all for you.
That's right! Better let him stay where he is.
You 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 realize, the man must have been mad.
I disagree.
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 at least two people around here
with a good reason for having killed Harry.
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'll have to think up a reason why the police weren't informed before now.
Yes, then there's the condition he's in.
That'll 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.
And 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 rested rather a long time.
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 man ever loved."
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, Ms. 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 —
Well, that's what we'd like to know, Doctor.
Could you tell us 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 shall 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.
Look.
It's nothing to get excited about, Captain.
It's only a closet door.
I thought it was Harry.
Relax, Captain. Nothing to worry about.
What about the cut I made on his head with my hiking shoe?
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's who I think it is — - Calvin Wiggs' car.
Just one minute.
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 him 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.
It could be priceless, and Sam would lose a sale.
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,
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?
Well, he described him very carefully.
The description fits this picture to a T.
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 this painting down to show him — - Drawing, if you don't mind.
I took the drawing down 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.
Well, Calvin, perhaps I can educate you to "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 have to have 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 alone 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.
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 goin' on around here.
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 will be up in the mornin'.
I'm gonna want 'em to have a talk with you, so be around.
- I said back to bed. - You can find me at my studio.
Just make sure —
Where is 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, either. Something seems to be bothering him.
Well, Captain. Did you get over being frightened?
Frightened?
Oh!
That's not why I left.
No. I'm not easily frightened, you know.
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 offshore?
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.
- 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 little tugboat captain I ever kissed.
What's he doing in the bathtub?
Well — What'd you find out, Doctor?
Oh, that. It was his heart. He had a seizure.
- His heart? - Yes, but —
- 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.
It was the blow he got from the heel of Miss Gravely's 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 suppose, after I hit him on the head with the milk bottle.
The Captain and Sam buried him first.
The Captain was so scared.
But 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, Doctor.
It's purely personal and nonmedical.
Besides, it's awfully late, so if you'll just keep quiet about all this,
we'll put Harry back in the morning, nice and clean,
and no one will be any the wiser.
Then we'll be rid of all these sticky complications.
Put him back. Put him back, that's all. Just put him back.
This is the first nightmare I've had in 25 years.
He's kind of strange, isn't he?
Well, hadn't we better get Harry dressed?
Yes, yes.
Wouldn't it be nice if Arnie found him all over 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.