Vice Versa (1948) - full transcript

Gentlemen,
can you all see my baton?

Yes!

No, the
aspidistra's in the way.

Keep clear of the wheels!

Disengaging the brake!

Now keep clear, won't you, madam?

Now, please, if you won't mind!

- Thank you, Bultitude.
- Goodbye,

and thank you for coming.

What do you want?

What it is, Bowler?



A lot of people to see you, sir.

I don't like the look of them.

Look like a lot of nosy parkers to me.

Come to make inquiries regarding-

-Yes. Yes, I did have an appointment.

You never told me.

You must've forgotten, Bowler.

I never forget nothing.

All right, get to your room.

Well, don't say I didn't warn ya.

Bowler is getting a little old,

but then, aren't we all?

It was my eldest son's wedding today.

He finally wrung a consent
out of Dulcie Grimstone.



You may have read about it.

It was an extremely fashionable wedding.

Thank you so much!

- Oh, goodbye, Mrs.-
- It's been simply delightful.

How very delightful to meet you again,

if only for such a short time.

That was Mrs. Willoughby, I believe.

The Duke of Ealing Broadway
was among the guests.

Very old friend of mine.

But I digress.

Come in, please.

We will go into the drawing
room where it is warm.

Be kind enough to close
the front door behind you.

Eh, don't knock yourself on this.

It all started some 20
years ago in this very room.

The furniture may seem
a little strange to you,

but after the amazing
events of the year 1896,

I somehow never had
the heart to change it.

I will now tell you the story

which I have kept from the
press for so many years.

It is a story so full of
bitter humiliation to me

that I should never dream of divulging it

if I had not felt so
much happier afterwards.

And there is no guarantee

that it could not happen
to any one of you.

Know then that my late wife, bless her,

had a ne'er-do-well
brother, Marmaduke Paradine.

This rascal, whose taste
for Eastern adventure

was stimulated by the
fact that he was wanted

by the police of most Western countries,

found himself in the
spring of the year 1895

in Battledore, India,

living on the generosity
of the military community.

At that time, he went under
the name of, I believe,

the Honourable Esme Montfalcon.

The Honourable Louis Montfalcon.

Do get your facts right, please!

Ah, Ambrose, this looks interesting.

It is the Temple of the Laughing Hyena,

headquarters of an obscure religious sect

who worship laughing hyena.

What's the time, Bindabun?

Bombay, it is three to 11 o'clock.

Yokohama, 2:30.

Dallas, Texas, 20 minute to seven.

Charing Cross Road, wet and windy.

Thank you so much.

Do you think it's worthwhile,

us becoming religious, Ambrose?

Now don't do anything rash, Montfalcon.

Don't forget we came
here to shoot the tiger.

These people are very touchy.

Look at that.

Morning service must just be over.

What's the guv say?

He say the hyena god in the temple

have magic eye worth million rupees.

Will we enter, inspect it?

Inspect it!

What does he take us for?

No, no, no, I implore you!

The mutiny started for less than this!

Nonsense! Follow me!

Tourists.

Million rupees! Well.

Hmm, yes.

Which eye is it?

The left.

Montfalcon, don't be a cad, sir.

I am not a cad!

I am an empire builder of the old school.

Where are the men with guts?

And where is my chisel?

And while you're about it,
find out what these girls

are doing later on tonight.

I say, Ambrose, it's screwed in.

- Good gracious, Montfalcon!
- The other eye winked at me!

I don't wonder, sir.

It's just another example of
British engineering genius.

Look at this. "John Donaldson and Company.

Sanitary and domestic
fittings, Sheffield."

Come along, Ambrose.

Well, Montfalcon, I admire your pluck,

but I think you behave like a rotter,

stealing people's eyes.

And especially when they're
obtainable in Britain.

Priest say eye ancient
Indian magic stone.

Only fitting made in England.

When idol wink, stone
bring bad luck to thief.

- Rubbish!
- Ah!

But you haven't been in India
as long as I have, Montfalcon.

Surely, Ambrose, you don't believe

in all this taradiddle, do you?

I should hand the eye
back like a good fellow.

Never! Come on, Ambrose.

Where's the elephant?

Gone!

It's begun!

Rot!

We'll just have to make our
way back on foot, that's all.

Into the bush? You're mad!

I don't know about you,
Ambrose, but personally, I'm off!

Er, Montfalcon!

Er, wait for me! Wait for me!

Paradine soon began
to realise that hyenas,

even if not worth worshipping
, were worth respect.

His unhappy friend Ambrose
never reached Battledore alive.

He was eaten by a tiger a
short distance from the Kantu.

December saw him at Southampton,

where he somehow penetrated
the customs and the police

without being recognised as
the notorious perpetrator

of the Bishopsgate scandal in 1881.

He was just thanking his lucky stars,

thinking he was safe, when...

Yes.

This finally convinced him

that the late, lamented Ambrose was right

and prompted him to perform
the one generous act

in his perfidious life.

I have brought you a
present from India, Paul.

Thank you very much, but I
don't want a present from you.

Unfortunately, Bowler
did not recognise you

after a gratifying
interval of seven years.

Otherwise, if he had,

you would not have set foot in this house.

Paul, you have absolutely
no family feeling.

I will thank you not to call me Paul.

Bultitude, you have a heart of stone.

Well, what do you expect

after your shabby manipulations
on the stock exchange?

You're dishonest, sir.

That may be so.

Nevertheless, we are brothers-in-law.

Understand, Paradine, once and for all

that I married your sister, not you.

I contracted a marriage of love

with a lady who is how unhappily defunct.

With her lamented passing,

all connection with the Paradine family

ceased, finished, and came to an end.

There, now go!

Only if you accept my gift.

I can't help asking myself the motive

which prompts this
extraordinary generosity.

Yes, I think I can tell you.

Brotherly feeling.

You're not short of money?

I never say no, since you mention it,

- my nearest and dearest.
- Hmm?

However, I must make it a condition

of my departure for good and all

that you accept this little gift.

What is it?

The Garuda Stone.

What?

This stone once constituted the left eye

of an Indian idol.

It is said to possess magic properties.

To whoever owns the stone,

they shall be given everlasting peace,

prosperity, and happiness.

Nonsense!

And so it is with a deep sense of loss,

dear brother-in-law,

that I bequeath to you
my peace and prosperity,

and yes, my happiness.

I don't want the confounded thing.

Take it. I insist.

Offend not the spirit
of the laughing hyena.

Oh, very well, if it'll make you go.

Goodbye forever.

Don't forget to shut the door.

One day, I shall be
understood. Till then...

Thank goodness for that.

Come in.

Ah, so you're off at last, eh?

Well, holidays can't last forever.

And by a merciful degree of providence,

they don't last quite forever.

Well, goodbye, goodbye.
Be a good boy this time.

No scraps, mind you, hmm?

What are you standing there for?

Either stay in or out,
one thing or the other.

I simply can't abide a draught.

Dad?

Yes?

Could I wait here till the cab comes?

Must you? Have you said your
farewells to your brother?

- Yes, Dad.
- And the nanny?

- Yes, Dad.
- Oh.

Well, I suppose you'd better sit down.

I hope the cab isn't long.

Are you waiting for Mrs. Verlane?

Yes.

No! I am thinking of your train.

Oh, dear.

What's the matter?

You should be delighted to be
returning to Dr. Grimstone's.

It'll give you a chance to redeem yourself

after your appalling report of last term.

I may as well tell you that
I have dispatched a note

to Dr. Grimstone himself,

couched in the strongest
possible terms that,

should you once again neglect your studies

and exert a complacent,

rebellious influence on your colleagues,

he would be well advised to remember

some of King Solomon's very
sensible remarks on the subject.

It is a sign of a sterling
character in Dr. Grimstone

that he's been lenient thus far.

I warn you, this clemency
will not continue.

Where is that cab?

Dad, is this the magic stone?

That is a piece of worthless malachite

that your scurvy uncle
Marmaduke brought from India.

How did you know about it?
Were you listening at the door?

Yes.

How dare you, sir!

I have a good mind to give you a note

to deliver to the worthy doctor

so that he may deal with you on arrival.

- Dad, may I have it?
- Certainly not.

Oh, Dad, I do want it.

What on earth could you want with it?

It's magic!

Rubbish! Give it here.

Dad, I could swap it.

- What for?
- Well-

- A rabbit, eh? Or a mouse.

No, certainly not, sir.
Give it here this instant.

Dad, could I have some
pocket money, please?

Have you none left over from last term?

No, Dad.

You see, there's the plate on
Sunday, then there's the cab-

- You know perfectly well that Bowler

has orders to pay for your cab.

However, I suppose you must have some.

Although your education
has cost me enough already

without all this additional expense.

Now, here's ten...

Five shillings.

And uncommonly liberal allowance
for a young scamp like you.

There, now, unless my ears deceive me,

there's your cab approaching.

Dad, there's something I
want to tell you before I go.

Well, make it...

What is it? You haven't much time.

I want you to let me leave Grimstone's

at the end of the term.

Let you leave Dr. Grimstone's?

Oblige me by giving him his full title

when you speak of him.

And excellent school.

I never read a better
prospectus in my life.

You've never been there!

You don't know what it's like!

No!

This is no time for tears,
just as your cab's arrived.

Dick, my boy, I...

It's so easy for the young

to feel that they're being
victimised and ill-used by fate,

but believe an older man, Dick, my boy,

believe me when I tell you
that much as you envy me,

I only wish that at this moment,

I could be a boy again like you.

Yes, I should really
like that, Dick, my boy.

Only what's the use of wishing?

My school days were the
happiest time of my life.

Yes.

But those days will never come back.

Those happy, carefree
days of yore.

Because I'm an old man.

I'm an old...

Why are you staring so?

I've been smoking too many cigars.

That's what it is.

You seem to be amused.

What's the matter?

How do you feel?

Extremely fit!

Oh, dear!

You always were an
impudent young puppy, sir!

I wash my hands of you.

Whenever I do try and give you
the benefit of my experience,

it's received with ridicule!

Oh, dear!

Leave the room, sir!

Where is that cab?

What is Bowler doing?

Oh, dear!

Go and look at yourself
in the mirror, Dad.

It'll make you roar!

Have you been playing
some schoolboy trick on me?

Because I warn you, I'm in no mood for...

Oh, dear!

Richard!

My moustache!

It's the stone.

What is?

You had it in your hand.

You wished you were a boy again, like me.

Good gracious!

You're right.

Confound Paradine.

Well, if the thing's a wishing stone,

I could put everything right

by just wishing myself back again.

I shall be laughing at all this by and by.

I know I shall.

I wish I were back.

Well?

No.

I'll bring
him out now, Mr. Clegg.

There's Bowler, coming for you! For me!

For us.

Cab's loaded, sir.

A moment, Bowler.

I'll send the young scallywag
out presently, Bowler.

What's going on in there?

I'm trying to help Dad-

- I'm giving the boy some good advice.

Phew, that was a narrow squeak.

Dad, why don't you let
me try to wish you back?

It must be a stone that has
only one wish per person.

Ah!

You must be right!

Bless you, Dick.

You're a good boy.

You shall have a half a sovereign.

Here, take the stone,

and wish your poor old
father himself again.

Have you wished?

Not yet.

Then do so this instant, sir!

Will you do as I say, sir?

The cab is waiting!

I expect obedience from you, sir!

Don't be in such a hurry.

You may not like it after
all when I've done it.

What are you suggesting?

I wish...

No, no, no!

I wish I was a man, just
like you were just now.

Oh deary, I didn't mean...

A mom...

A moment, Bowler.

Dick! Dick, my boy.

Don't let's drive a good
joke too far, my boy.

Let's shake hands and see

if we can't find a way out of this.

There's only one way
out for you, Father.

What's that?

Through the front door.

You don't mean to say...

No, no, my boy!

No time to lose!

You are going back to a most
excellent establishment,

where you will find all
the comforts of home.

You will once more take part

in the happy games and lessons of boyhood.

And you'll find your
chums easy to get on with,

so long as you don't give yourself airs.

They won't stand airs.

Now, goodbye, my boy. Bless you.

My compliments to old
Grimmy, remember?

Bowler, I object,

with all the power at my disposal.

Come on, young sir.

No time for speechifying.

But Bowler, I am my father.

Can you not see that? Are you blind?

I'm afraid we shall have
the usual trouble, Bowler.

Bowler, you are dismissed!

Yes, I know, young sir.

I'll go and pack me bag

just as soon as we get you to the station.

Let me go, sir!

Release my lobe!

Yes, sir?

Alice, how much money does Father...

I mean, how much money
do I pay you every week?

Five shillings a week, sir.

Five shill...

That's all he's got for the
whole term, mangy beggar.

Will that be all, sir?

You're very pretty.

From now on you'll get five pounds a week.

Five pounds, sir?

Come round here and give
me a kiss.

What are you screaming for, silly?

All right, then.

Don't give me a kiss then if
you don't want to. Spoilsport.

Here, run out to Codger's

and get me a guinea's worth of sherbet.

What's the matter now?

I suppose that's what Father used to call

"the servant problem."”

Whoa a bit!

Where to, sir?

743 Market, Broadwell.

Stop!

Clegg, once and for all,

will you take me back home?

I'll pay you handsomely.

What do you mean by "handsomely"?

A sovereign?

Oh, don't make me laugh, sir.

Grin and bear it, Master
Dick. Grin and bear it.

Well, I'll give you
five sovereigns then.

Will you now?

Yes.

Where's my money?

Good gracious!

Five shillings!

Goon.

Governor's been a bit
stingy this time, eh?

Hello, Bultitude.

There, you'll feel better

now you've found your little friend.

We've all got to go and get labelled.

Clegg!

Gee up!

I have no intention of being labelled.

Just trying to find a
cab to take me back home.

Home? But the hols are over.

Kindly refrain from addressing me.

Well, what's the matter
with you? What have I done?

Nothing as yet.

I just don't happen to have the pleasure

of your acquaintance.

Consequently, I find that we
have very little in common.

I say, Bultitude!

Kindly refrain from presuming

that you know me on terms of intimacy.

I wish you'd go away and talk
to someone of your own age.

That's a good one.

Say, how much grub have
you brought back with you?

Grub? What is grub?

Well, tuck.

Eats.

Food!

If you mean food, why don't you say so,

you illiterate boy?

Grub is the embryonic form of a moth.

It has nothing whatsoever to do with food.

Oh, stop humbugging,
Bultitude. For goodness' sakes-

- Ah! Thank goodness.

I won't have to enjoy your
company a moment longer.

Are you free, cabbie, my man?

Where to, sir?

Westbourne Terrace.

What,
Bultitude, back home so soon?

Dr. Grimstone! There's been a mistake!

Indeed there has, my
boy, a serious mistake.

School lies in that direction,

not towards Westbourne Terrace.

Your father has written to me.

In future I shall know
exactly how to deal with you.

The child must not be spoiled.

Troupe, step out!

What could I do?

My only course was to insinuate
my intellectual maturity

on Dr. Grimstone's mind.

Well, boys,

you have suffered an
unusual protracted vacation,

owing to the unprecedented
severity of the weather.

You will therefore be glad to hear

that I have reduced the Easter holidays

by a week in compensation.

I am uncommonly glad to
hear it, Dr. Grimstone.

Boys have far too many holidays as it is.

There's no joke, I can assure you,

having a great idle boy
hanging about the place,

eating his empty head off.

This is indeed finding
Saul among the prophets.

Your sentiments, Bultitude, if sincere,

I repeat, if sincere,

are remarkably creditable
to one of your young years.

But I am bound to say I must view them

with the utmost suspicion.

I don't why you should
take it upon yourself

to question my sincerity, Dr. Grimstone.

I have my reasons,
sir. I have my reasons.

Never in the course of
a long pedagogic career

have I met a small boy

with so much natural
wickedness in his heart.

Dr. Grimstone,

far be it from me to
complain without good reason,

but would you tell the boy on the right

either to control his feelings

or to cry into his pocket handkerchief?

His infernal whiffling and sniffling

is nothing less than unnatural
in a boy of his size.

Keffen, are you crying?

No, sir.

I think I've caught a cold, sir.

I am uncommonly glad to hear it,

for I should not like to think

that you are starting your new life

in a spirit of captiousness and rebellion.

I'll have no mutineers in my camp, sir.

I intend to establish a
spirit of trustful happiness

and unwavering content in my school,

if I have to flog every boy in it.

By the way, did I hear you
say your name was Keffen?

Surely you must be Jordan Keffen's boy.

Why, bless my soul.

Your father and I, my little man,

were friends in the days before
you were born or thought of.

Nor thought of.

Yes, he was in a very small
way in those days. Very small.

Wretched Bultitude!

I have no words to express
the pain and disgust I feel

at the heartless way you persist

in mimicking a fond and estimable parent.

Dr. Grimstone!

I must positively ask you
either to pull the window up

or to change places with me.

My doctor tells me that the night air

at this time of the year

is simply fatal to a
man of my constitution.

Simply fatal!

Bultitude, I must warn you

you're behaving very imprudently.

Dr. Grimstone, do
you encourage your boys

to make common nuisances
of themselves in public?

Some scarcely seem to require
encouragement, Bultitude.

What is the matter now?

The boy opposite me

is polluting the already arctic atmosphere

by sucking an atrocious
peppermint lozenge.

Is what Bultitude tells me true, Coggs?

I bought 'em at a chemist, sir.

"Them"?

Does that imply there is more than one

of the pestilent pastilles?

Anathema.

Bultitude, I'm much obliged to you.

A severe cold in the head has prevented me

from detecting this insidious
act of self-indulgence.

About which I shall have
to say more in future.

Your model courage and
promptness in denouncing the evil

are much to be commended.

Please do not mention it, Dr. Grimstone.

Uh, perhaps you will allow
me to show my gratitude

with the gift of a Havana cigar.

You do smoke, don't you?

I always like a whiff
after dinner, you know?

An Havana, sir?

Dr. Grimstone, once more I
must summon your assistance.

Some young hooligan in this
carriage has stolen my cigars.

- It's no good, Bowler.
- These cigars make me cough.

Same as we've had for 20
years, sir. Cabinet Montezumas.

Is that what I usually smoke?

Well, I've never known you
to smoke nothing different.

Well, I must be mad.

For 20 years you've
been smoking Montezumas-

- Throw 'em away. Smoke 'em yourself.

Give 'em to Rollie to play with.

Cigars to the baby, sir?

And Bowler, I want a large stock

of peppermint lozenges laid in.

Not McPherson's, they're too weak.

And not Richardson's Clear Mintyfruits,

they're not sweet enough.

I want Adams and Bochur's Peppizudes.

I'll not put up with another brand.

Yes, sir.

And Bowler, I want ten dozen bottles

of ginger pop in case of guests.

You understand?

Ginger pop, sir.

What's the matter,
Bowler? You look faint.

Why don't you say anything, Alice?

Me, sir?

Oh!

Sir, if you
were to go to bed...

Bed? Now?

My bedtime is 10 o'clock from now on,

and I will have my way on that point.

Yes, sir.

You sure Dr. Chawner couldn't-

- Dr. Chawner? I wouldn't
have him in the house dead.

He's your best friend, sir!

No, he isn't, his son is a mean bully

and a cowardly custard
and a rotten goody-goody,

and I'll not have the father in the house.

What are you staring at, you two?

I'm not losing weight, am I?
I don't...

Didn't lose more. No.

What is the matter, Bowler?

I shall lose my temper in a moment.

Eh, aren't you going to change?

Change, me? Why should I?

- Well, sir, before-
-Yes?

Well, you always like to look tidy, sir.

You haven't much time.

- There she is!
- Who?

Alice expressed herself badly.

- Who!
- Mrs. Verlane, sir.

Oh, hmm, tell her I'm out.

Is Mr. Bultitude
in the drawing room?

Too late, sir. Shall I show her in?

Oh no, Jumbo. Don't rush to greet me.

What?

It's all over between us.

Jumbo.

Did you hear what I said?

Yes. What's all over, Mrs. Verlane?

Oh!

Since when have a been
just "Mrs. Verlane" to you?

- Alice.
- Yes?

Answer the door if anyone calls.

I'm going for Dr. Chawner.

I only hope we're not too late.

That's six times he's
asked me to kiss him!

You take an unhealthy interest

in telling that story, Alice.

I'm not gonna speak to you again about it.

Well, can I help it if
he finds me good-lookin'?

Remember, Alice, he's not all there.

Never take advantage of a sick man.

Oh...

Very well, Mr. Bultitude.

I'll tell you something

that will make you take notice of me.

I am in love with another.

I'm in love with Dulcie Grimstone.

Dulcie who?

Dulcie Grimstone, the most
beautiful girl in the world.

Which row of the chorus is she in?

I'll scratch her eyes out!

She's the headmaster's daughter.

What? Which headmaster?

Oh, dear, the headmaster of...

Um, she just told me her
father was a headmaster.

That's all. It's all right,
she's older than you are,

about 50 and ugly.

Oh, Paul.

You've always been so
sweet to me in the past.

Can't we forget our little differences

- and start all over again?
- Hmm?

I'll always remember that glorious bunch

of wild violets you sent
me at the stage door.

You were so shy and so sweet.

Do you remember how you told
me about your first marriage

and how tragically it had
ended and how lonely you were?

You were so vain, you darling!

You told me your boy was quite a baby

and kept him away so that
I shouldn't guess your age.

Oh, how you blushed when I found

he was a darling little fellow of 12.

Not so much of a darling little fellow.

And he's 13 and three quarters,
nearly 13 and seven eighths.

Oh, Jumbo, my Jumbo!

Why won't you be sentimental?

- I never liked you.
- Oh!

Crybaby!

Rotter!

Was the bell not
working at the front door?

Fanny in tears!

You shall pay for this, sir.

You've got your cap
on at the wrong angle.

It must've got caught in the curtains.

- What do you know about it?
- I know all about soldiers.

Really?

You're Spooner's Light
Horse, the Devil-May-Cares.

Glorious record at the
Battle of Impalawao.

Were you there? I didn't see you.

Unfortunately not.

My age, you know. Too young.

Too young? Why, I was there.

Oh, I mean, yes, of course. Too old.

What is your regiment?

I never had one.

Good gracious me, sir. Every
man's got a regiment, right?

Well, I would've had
one if I hadn't been keen

around driving railway chauffeurs.

I might just as well not be here.

Fanny, forgive me.

Fanny? I thought her name was Florence.

Don't insult the woman
I love by subjecting her

to some amatory confusion
in your debased mind.

Sir, there are times when
words no longer suffice.

This is such a moment.

Name your time and place.

Why don't you stay to dinner tonight?

And your weapon, sir?

Oh, I see! You want to fight, grand.

I'm glad to see that you have
some vestige of honour left.

Shall it be swords, pistols, or sabres?

Won't pillows do?

For your sake, I shall pretend

I did not hear that last remark.

I never like to think badly of a man

approaching the end of his life.

Oh, I see. What about swords?

Ha!

So be it.

You have inadvertently
chosen my very weapon.

I pity you.

I suggest dawn at the north
end of the round pond.

You will, of course, make
all necessary arrangements

with your family
undertaker before you come.

You big bully, fighting a
man twice as small as you!

I'll make you pay for
this! I've done it before!

Oh, Jumbo, you hero!

Fanny, words are useless now.

You have this evening
to wrap up your affairs.

Don't worry, my darling, I
shall book our usual table

at Romano's for tomorrow after the show.

Sir!

This is what I've always dreamed of.

Two men fighting for me!

Come, Fanny!

And may the best man win.

Don't worry, my dear.

This way, quick, Dr. Chawner.

Hello, Bultitude.

Good evening, Dr. Chawner.

Feeling well?

Fine, fine! I never felt better.

- Mm-hmm.
- Alice!

Now, how about a little
rest, eh, Bultitude?

- Rest?
- By the sea, somewhere quiet.

Or a watering place? Lemington, Harrogate?

Nonsense, my fine fellow, nonsense.

I have to fight a duel tomorrow.

I see.

Have you have a lot of
business worries lately?

I haven't a care in the world.

Stop him!

Oh, come now, Bultitude.

You forget 'm a
stockholder in your company.

I know how things are going!

Will you be my second,
Chawner? I may need a doctor.

Of course, of course.

Bowler, call Alice.

What are you shaking your head for?

Chawner, you're just about
as nasty as your son.

My son?

Well, well!

My father.

Yes.

Whenever affairs are a
little tenuous in the city,

your father is the first to
be affected by cold feet.

You're being very
insulting about my old man.

I've a good mind to punch your face.

You provoke me by your insane jealousy.

I'm not jealous.

I'm in love with Dulcie
Grimstone, that's all.

She's my girl, she's not yours.

I'm quite aware of that
fact, you young hooligan.

But she has never been my...

That is to say,

she has never been the
object of my affection.

Not because I don't happen
to be that sort of a man,

if you follow me, but because
I do not happen to know her!

Liar.

If you were my son, I'd box
your ears for that remark!

Well, I'm not your son, so there.

Now, Chawner!

Was that fair?

To strike a smaller boy.

Reflect, Chawner, reflect.

I'm sorry, sir.

Empty words, Chawner, if I may say so.

Sorrow is so easy to
express, so hard to feel.

Do you really feel sorry?

Yes, I do, sir.

Very well, then. Shake hands.

And smile.

Ah, if only all the world

understood the true spirit of forgiveness

and was prepared to turn the other cheek.

You horrid, horrid boy!

To hit dear Dickie like that.

- Who's this?
- Dulcie!

Go away! I'm not going to talk to you.

You can pour your own chocolate out.

There's your chocolate, Dickie.

Oh, Dickie, I have missed you so.

No, thank you. I cannot
abide sweetmeats of any kind.

Perhaps I ought to explain-

- No one's looking now. Kiss me, quickly.

I shouldn't dream of
doing anything as rash,

or indeed, as sordid.

What's the matter, sweetheart?

Why are you talking to me like that?

Look, I'm sure you're a
well-mannered little girl,

but I cannot help feeling
that your ebullience

is a little misplaced.

How horrid you are, Dickie!

So unlike yourself!

Don't start snuffling, I beg you!

I can't abide a snuffler.

Dulcie.

Every boy to his cot

to surrender himself
to health-giving sleep,

that he may fling himself with
a renewed zeal in the morning

into the complexities of the pons asinorum

and the vulgar fraction.

Any boy out of his cot in five minutes

will write out 2,000 times

the Greek, German, Latin,
and French equivalents

of the verb "to dawdle,"
or "procrastinate."”

Eh, Chawner.

Highly commendable.

Move, at the double.

Black mark!

Disgusting! Revolting!

Indecent!

Wait a minute!

Passable.

Passable. Go on.

Go on.

- Passable.
- Well, goodnight Grimstone.

I'll see-
Impertinence!

Two black marks!

Now then, Bultitude, why did you sneak?

I had enough peppermints
to last me the term.

Peppermints are an
indulgence for growing boys.

I agree with Dr. Grimstone.

How dare you, sir?

You little villain!

I'll have you in court for this!

In court, eh?

I'll have you know...

I'm a personal friend
of Mr. Justice Pollard.

In trouble, Dickie? Can I help you?

Help me, Chawner, and I'll
talk to your father about you.

Yes, I'll help you.

Cavey! Here's old Grimmer!

I have reason to believe
that you, sir, are still awake,

in spite of my direct
orders to the contrary.

In view of your appalling
forwardness in some matters

and your abysmal backwardness in others,

you will kindly write out 683 times

the word "transubstantiation,”

spelling it both forwards and
backwards on each occasion.

And now, goodnight.

In schola regnat pax.

Meaning, Coker?

Pack, um...

"I came, I saw, I conquered.”

Black mark, egregious imbecile!

It means, of course, "peace
reigns in the school.”

Goodnight.

Any boy found sleepwalking
without permission

will be soundly bashed.

The night seemed
to last for a very long time

and I think I was glad of it,

except that every moment of sleep

meant that fresh energy
was being infused by nature

into the receptive
muscles of my tormentors.

Order of seniority, please.

Great Scott.

Good Gladstone.

My godfathers.

Gosport?

Huh?

By the Lord Harry!

Exactly.

Here they come!

So it was true!

Of course! What did you think?

I thought it was all
a part of your malady.

Thank goodness I did it.

Did what?

Nevermind.

My name is Margate, 43rd Duke.

I'm Bultitude, fourth form.

Is this, uh,

gentleman seconding you?

My name is Dr. Chawner.

This fellow worth fighting?

It's a question of honour, Margate.

I'm not thinking of you, Gosport.

I'm thinking of the regiment.

He's a Harrow man.

Are you positive?

I looked him up.

Do you know the rules of this game?

Rules? No!

I thought it was a jolly
good old free-for-all.

Penny on the water, tuppence on the sea,

thruppence on the railway and out goes he.

No, this one.

Doctor, a word in your ear.

Ah!

Got a nasty temper, old Gosport.

Ooh.

What's it about? Woman?

Empire or Gaiety?

Metropolitan, Edgware Road.

Here.

What's that?

Ginge, you take your mob over there.

All the heavy artillery, come with me.

You ain't heavy artillery!

Who are you?

Highwaymen!

- Get out of it.
- Come on, get down.

What are you up to, you young rascals?

You wait till I get down there.

Go on, hit the man when he's down!

Well, he ain't down yet!

Don't you know the rules of warfare?

Give us your hansom coach.

Well, you ain't gonna
have our hansom coach.

We ain't gonna have what?

Here! Go on, get in there!

- Perce!
- Yeah?

- Put 'em under that tree!
- All right, boss.

Albert, you stay there, and
if they get salty, clock 'em!

All right, boys, get in.

Here, ladies first.

Don't you know your manners?

And nobody's to touch that sherbet

what Mr. Bultitude's given us till after.

- Is that clear?
- Yeah.

Now.

Nor the lollipops neither!

Aw!

Hoorah.

What the devil does Vincent
think he's playing at?

Always was a sportsman at heart.

Wants a bit of feud. Don't blame him!

On the question of
superficial flesh wounds,

grazes, abrasions,
penetrations, and amputations,

you as the doctor will
step smartly forward

carrying a white...

Or off-white handkerchief,

affect a lightning diagnosis,

and retire if the wound is not mortal.

If, however, there is little hope,

you will wave your
handkerchief three times

in an anticlockwise direction.

Remember, anticlockwise,
that is important,

and engagement will be suspended.

Is that quite clear?

Eminently.

Very well. Let battle be given.

Now then, come along.

No dilly-dallying or shilly-shallying.

And take that grin off
your face, second trombone.

This is a funeral rehearsal.

As you know, we all
have many opportunities

of playing festive and joyful tunes.

We've already got the
inter-regimental applause for it.

However, the colonel feels

that a spirit of slackness
has entered into this unit,

and that's the cause of these
early morning rehearsals

in full parade order.

I'm doing the talking, bass tuber.

Right, "Handel's Largo."

And don't forget, men are dying
right and left these days.

You never know when it's your turn.

Right, "Handel's Largo,"

and I want the watchwords to be "sadness,"

"nobility,"

"death."

Och!

No privacy here.

One, two, three!

No, no!

Play.

Nevermind me, sir. Play!

- Do play.
- Oh, come on, Gosport!

Come on then, let's
get on with the duel.

He doesn't know how
to play proper sport!

Wait for it. Wait for it.

One, two, three!

No, no!

They're looking.

Play. For goodness' sake, play.

- Come along, men.
- Oh, do play.

Oh, come on, men.

Each pick your man, and
when I give the word, I want-

- The overture to "The
Merry Wives of Windsor."

The playing of the largo wasn't bad,

but not nearly soul-stirring enough.

Now, piccolo and cymbals,

I'm gonna give you
something to grin about.

I want you all to smile.

Is that clear?

I'm warning you, second trombone.

Take that frown off your face.

A spirit of carefree gaiety
and lighthearted abandon.

Or else!

From letter E. One two...

Ah!

Come on, now. Element of surprise.

En garde.

Play.

One two, one two, one two, forward!

You rotter, Chawner!

Bultitude! Come back!

Face it! For honour!

Brigade!

Form

crown!

I advise you gentlemen to come quietly.

I've a highly trained,
efficient force at my disposal.

Outnumbered.

Scoundrel!

Ah!

There he goes!

Have at him!

What's the matter with you, eh?

Frightened of a little bit of noise?

Come on now! After 'em!

Bultitude, consider-

- Point down the road.

No, turn back! The cab's for you!

One two, one two, come on!

A hundred lollipops if you get me home.

No, Bultitude!

Stop 'em! Come back, gentlemen!

Stop it!

Here, we gonna stand for this?

No!

Come on now, boys!

Nevermind about all that noise!

I'll keep you here all day
if you don't get this right.

Order of seniority, please.

We was giving a rendering

of the overture to "The
Merry Wives of Windsor"

by Otto Nicolai, the
distinguished Prussian composer.

Er, when we was interrupted, milord.

Could it not be that it
was owing to your playing

that the row had occurred?

It was a well-nigh perfect rendering.

I am not suggesting that
the music was not well played.

I'm suggesting it was not liked as music.

What was the music played?

The overture

to the "Merry Wives of Windsor," milord.

Overture to what?

"The Merry Wives of Windsor," milord.

Oh.

Uh, how does that go?

♪ La-la-la, la-la-la la-la-la-la-la ♪

Silence!

♪ La-la-la-la ♪

I will not have indiscriminate
singing in my court.

One bar would've been sufficient.

That is an important point.

I have noted it.

Seems an unattractive tune.

Opinions vary, milord.

Mine never do.

It was I who summoned
the police, Your Lordship.

What was your idea in
summoning the police?

I hoped to avert a possible tragedy.

Did you warn the parties concerned

that you would take such a step?

Well, there was no time.

24 hours?

We had a word for that sort
of thing in my public school.

What did you call them?

Sneaks.

We called them snadgers.

Where were you?

Wellington.

I was at Gilbert.

Did you know old Gardener Waybridge?

Intimately!

What's happened to him?

Last I heard, he was
tea planting in India.

Really?

Really? Charming fellow.

Oh, yes!

Stuffy Gardener Waybridge

is the most unpopular man in Mysore!

An awful bounder!

Hear, hear.

If you don't shut up...

Silence!

I will not have my assessment
of character criticised.

I can put you in prison
for less than that.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Now, uh,

where were we?

We done it 'cause he
gave us sherbet all round.

Who is "he"?

Uncle Paul.

"Uncle"?

Well, Mr. Bultitude.

Milord, is it not a clear example

of the tenderheartedness,

the simplicity of the
defendant's character,

that he was willing to impart a present

of sherbet all round

to 20 small boys many years his junior

and several classes below
him in the social scale?

I submit is was bribery, milord!

Bribery?

But why choose little boys, milord?

Why not hard assassins?

Who can be had at any time,

as both our main political
parties well know.

Little boys are cheaper.

They demand sherbet, not hard cash.

Mr. Bultitude is not a poor man!

He may be avaricious.

Oh!

Oh, I say!

He gave us
other things as well.

What?

Bought us a pony and trap,

a box of fireworks for Guy Fawkes,

a dozen white mice, a
couple of guinea pigs,

two dozen air pistols, hundred
yards of catapult elastic,

four shotguns with
ammunition, ten spanners,

a jemmy, a bag, and two
dozen pairs of soft shoes.

I forget what else.

Milord, my case rests.

Thank you.

Have you found out about
my train to Rickmansworth?

2:43, milord.

Gracious!

Gentlemen of the jury, your duty is clear.

If you need any assistance
in coming to a decision

that Mr. Bultitude is not guilty,

and that the wretched Earl
of Gosport is utterly guilty,

I will gladly give it.

If you have already come
to the right conclusion,

you will tell me so without
more ado and we may adjourn.

Gentlemen of the jury, how say you?

Is Paul Bultitude, stockbroker,

of 117 Westbourne Terrace in
the borough of Paddington,

guilty or not guilty?

And speak up.

Not, not, not, not, not...

Exactly.

And how say you is Horace,
Arthur, Desmond, uh, Lucas...

Oh dear, oh dear.

Is Gosport guilty or not guilty?

Gu, go, go, go, go...

As I thought.

I am satisfied that justice has been done.

Lord Gosport,

I have no alternative but to
impose the maximum penalty.

You will be fined

seven shillings and six pence.

Oh, you dear, lovely hero!

Oh!

Oh, you did that
deliberately, you beastly boy!

He deserved it.

Take due notice. What is it, Dulcie?

Look, dear, look.

The new Financial Times.
It's just arrived.

"Paul Bultitude..."

"Entire fortune in the new
invention of Professor Grim..."

"Horseless carriage. The
new company's reg..."

I haven't hurt him, have I?

Cavey!

Score 2-1!

White's leading!

Run!

Good, good!

Good!

Come, boys! Run!

Keep it up! This way!

Come along! That's right, ball to...

Where is the ball?

- There it is.
- Come on, boys! Keep running!

- Where's the ball?
- No slacking there!

Come on now! Kick!

That's right! Come on!

Jolland, to you!

No, this is...

Where is the ball, Mr. Blinkhorn?

Why, that's funny, sir.

It was here a moment ago.

Has any boy secreted the ball?

Bultitude, you look
your usual guilty self

and quite unnaturally rotund.

What are you secreting under your jersey?

- Nothing, Father.
- Silence, Dulcie!

I'll have no intercession
on behalf of the criminal.

Out with it!

There's the ball, Father. Behind you.

My interested is no longer centred

on a quest for the ball.

I feel that I have detected some evil.

What is it? Illicit literature?

No doubt one of Mr. Charles
Dickens' forbidden instalments.

Upon my word, Bultitude, what's this?

The Financial Times?

My Financial Times?

The new Financial Times?

What is the meaning of this?

I had to, sir. Look at page one.

For the moment, I prefer to look at you.

Can you give me one valid reason

why I should not put you on
bread and water for a month?

My reason is on page one!

I'm mad with worry!

For your sake, I hope that
the article is well written.

Fourth column, near the top of the page.

Gracious, boy.

You do well to express such solicitude

on behalf of a fond parent

who, in a moment of aberration,

seeks to supplant the
horse, and indeed, the foot

on our national highways
with an explosive device.

But it does not excuse you
from stealing my posts!

I brought it in, Father.

In that case, you
will stand in the corner

for 15 minutes after supper.

Yes, Father.

And now, let merriment be
resumed and battle be given.

I'll show you how to dribble!

Now, boys,
clear the way for the doctor!

Out of my way, nincompoops!

Black mark!

Oh, splendid, sir! Splendid!

Now I propose to do the
same to the other side.

Move, impetuous children!

- Emergency, men.
- This is disgraceful!

Absolutely disgraceful!

- There may be trouble.
- I demand a new suit!

Come out, sir,
and let me deal with you!

Waiting for Mr. Bultitude?

Oh!

Margaret!

Shh! Call me Florence!

Oh, the Honourable Lionel Fleshwood.

Shh! Call me Paradine.

Where was it? Ottawa?

Oh, I've never been
to Ottawa, my darling.

Could it have been Spanish Morocco?

When I was in the Foreign
Legion, trying to forget?

I doubt it.

Oh, who were you trying to forget?

- The police.
- Ah.

Could it have been the Panama Canal?

Cologne!

Avenida Morbida.

The sign of the Blue Cockatoo.

The second table on the
right, through the swing doors!

Where Pedro, Manuel, and that big Swede

got killed because of me.

That's it!

I killed them.

I was in love with you.

I thought I remembered your face.

I loved the moment I
saw you stealing wallets.

Oh, and loved you for
way you cheated at cards.

My darling.

Put my watch back in my pocket.

Oh, my sweet,
you haven't changed a bit.

Oh, darling, can't we
begin all over again?

In the motor industry!

Oh, anywhere. I've
been so good recently.

Ah!

But hold.

Why are you waiting for Bultitude?

I have it! I saw your picture
in the illustrated papers.

"My hero.” So that's it.

Well, he's very rich.

He won't be when I'm finished with him.

Oh, my darling, you've
finally made up my mind for me.

Let's stick together.

I'll keep up normal appearances
until you've done your work.

- I'm game.
- Oh!

Look out!

Now over here, you see,
is a sprocket, and-

- Gracious! Do you two know each other?

Uh, yes, as a matter of fact.

We met over tiffin and a burra peg

at the viceroy's summer palace.

Oh, well then, goody goody,
I don't have to introduce you.

I've been thinking I ought to
go down and see how Papa...

Paul...

How Dick's getting on at school.

I think I'll take the motor on Monday.

Uh, let me come with you.

Must you?

Oh, how nasty you are.

Very well, you shall come and tell me

what you think of Dulcie.

- Coward, hiding in there!
- What's that?

Customers.

Do they want motorcars?

No. They've had them.

When a boy goes out into the world,

he begins to realise
what sheltered security

a happy boyhood has meant.

Never before...

Never before has he been
called upon to make decisions.

Never before has he had to say yea,

nor yet indeed, nay,

to matters which may
affect his entire life.

Shh!

And you will find, as you grow older,

that you will begin to hanker after

that lost and rather beautiful
simplicity of boyhood.

When obsessed by some
great and gnawing trouble,

a little birdlike voice
will make itself heard

somewhere within your very being,

saying incessantly,

"Ah, for the merry times of boyhood.

For the innocent pleasures
of haying and maying."

Aha!

"Ah, for the innocent pleasures

of haying and maying."

Your colleagues, and I, your mentor,

thought that we were dealing with a lazy,

indolent, slovenly, maladroit,

boorish, and loathsome boy.

Sir, we were wrong!

We have Beelzebub in our midst.

Beelzebub in the guise of
a smutty-faced innocent!

Beelzebub, who uses a sacred edifice

for the purpose of the
seduction of the inferior sex!

Sir,

I have decided

to expel you!

Great!

Was that an exclamation
of a joyful nature

to which I heard you give utterance?

Uh, no.

Sir, I am deeply sorry.

Repentance comes too late.

The die, I rejoice to say,

has already been cast.

Dulcie.

Has this unnatural
child's schismatic grasp

extended also to your young heart?

You're not to expel Dickie!

"Dickie," is it?

Already the intimacy has extended

to the indiscriminate and indecent use

of a Christian name, has it?

Dulcie, go straight to your
room and wash out your mouth.

You're a beast!

And stand in the corner for 10 minutes.

Brute!

20 minutes!

Bad, bad, man!

Half an hour!

The seeds of heresy which you have sewn

must be uprooted one by one!

Let us hope that most of them

will have fallen upon stony ground

where they may not spring into the tares

and weeds of pollution.

Pompous ass.

What was that?

You!

Yes.

I've been listening.

Come outside for a moment.

Grimstone, are you mad?

So there is a Judas
in my camp, is there?

- I had not thought it of you.
- Oh, call me what you like.

You can't put me in the corner.

Alas.

What if I tell you that I believe

the whole thing to be Chawner's fault?

Chawner? Impossible.

The lad is a paragon of the virtues

and will doubtless end up in Parliament.

I don't doubt it.

I saw him pass the note with
a bribe to Ms. Davenport

just before the incident.

He'll probably end up in the Cabinet.

Another Guy Fawkes gnawing at my bosom.

Well, if you won't
listen to my kind of sense,

what if I tell you that
if you expel the boy,

you'll be 40 guineas
down at the end of term?

I admit that I had
not hitherto envisaged

the possibilities of Chawner's guilt.

Mind you, I'm not disposed
to believe in it even now.

However, in view of the fact
that there seems to exist

some element of doubt in this matter,

I am prepared to take the lenient view.

That's more like it.

And I'll not have Dulcie spend
all her life in the corner.

My dear, it is in a corner
that a child first begins

to meditate upon the
greater issues of this life.

She knows quite enough
about that for her age.

Only because I have
afforded her the opportunity.

Yes.

Ah, well? When do I go?

You do not.

What?

Owing to the intercession
of Mrs. Grimstone,

who went on her knees weeping
on your behalf, ingrate,

I have decided to take the lenient view.

But I don't deserve leniency!

I will have nothing but expulsion!

I deserve to be punished!

You do indeed, sir.

I am glad to see you admitting your guilt.

You will be caned before the entire school

at 11 o'clock tomorrow,
the 18th of February,

in the year of grace 1896.

Rescue seemed impossible,

and yet, had not General
Sir Watson Bullitt

just achieved the impossible in Africa

with the rescue of the
Medo Udonga Garrison?

In my agony, I visualised
the heroic siege.

Instead of the stimulus of shellfire,

I could only hear the
relentless ticking of the clock.

There was only an hour left
before my walk to the gallows.

Perhaps by my grit, I too could
earn the reward of rescue.

It was impossible, and yet...

And yet...

And yet...

Stand there, conniver.

To your place, Chawner.

Before proceeding to
administer the punishment

which my conscience tells me
is ridiculously inadequate

under the dastardly circumstances

provoked by this heinous boy,

I wish to warn you one and all

against the terrible possibilities

of any further breach in the moral code

of this splendidly run college.

Stand up the boy who is humming.

Jolland! Is it you who are roaring?

I seem to detect a fluctuation
in your Adam's apple!

Oh no, sir!

I was gulping, sir.

There is a time and
place for everything.

Kindly do not provoke
me by gulping in class.

No, sir.

Oh, look, sir.

Ah, Chawner to the rescue.

Have you discovered the culprit?

Yes, sir. Look there,
through the window.

Unhappy boy.

It is your parent, and a
companion of the inferior sex.

Dick!

Kindly refrain from talking to yourself.

Nobody is to move.

Culprit and onlookers will
remain rooted to the spot

whilst I go and pour ointment

upon an anguished parent's aching wound.

You may go in now.

Hello, Dr. Grimstone!

Untimely levity, my dear sir.

Most untimely levity.

- What's the matter?
- Is the boy in trouble?

In trouble, sir?

You unhappily arrive
as my birch was raised.

You can laugh!

I had thought to see you wring your hands.

Don't be too hard on
him, there's a sport.

He's not a bad old soul.

Do you take the boy's part, sir?

What did he do?

He was detected by me

conducting an amatory
negotiation in chapel.

And you mean there's a time
and place for everything.

Madam, there is never time nor place

for amatory negotiation.

That is a function which
should be exclusively reserved

for the parents of both parties concerned.

The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet

is amply indicative of
the disasters that befall

when youth is allowed
to take its own course.

Oh, well, I think love's
wonderful all the year round.

Fanny Verlane, lovely girl.

Ooh! Of course, you've never met.

I'm sorry. Doctor, this is Fanny Verlane.

She dances the can-can at the Met.

Fanny, this is old Grimmy
I was telling you about.

Ah, I'd recognise him a mile off.

Brutal, I call it, whacking
poor little innocent boys.

Vicious.

Madam, when I take to parading my charms

in public in a hall of pleasure,

you may permit yourself to criticise my...

The educational system. Until
then, kindly hold your peace.

Oh, I say what I
please and when I please.

I detect a distinct
chill in the atmosphere.

Perhaps we'd better proceed indoors.

That's funny, I feel quite warm.

Mr. Bultitude, you will do me the favour

of detecting the chill at once.

We're observed by several
score of prying juvenile eyes

and dignity must be
maintained at all costs.

Don't think you're going
to get out of it, Dickie.

Your dad'll have to wait
for you in the study.

Yes, old Grimstone's
gone to wax his cane.

Yes, that's right.

Keep your chin up, Dickie.

Yes, that's
the least you can do.

It may be nasty, but
it doesn't last long.

Why don't you shut up?

Good luck, Dickie boy.

Look out, look out!

Bultitude.

I must announce to you
with infinite regret

that owing to the
intercession of your parent,

that castigation will not now take place.

In the incontrovertible
knowledge of your supreme guilt,

and filled as you undoubtedly are

with unconsolable and gnawing remorse,

I must ask you to bear
the news with fortitude

and follow me.

All you boys will write
out the present indicative,

past imperfect, and
future pluperfect tenses

of the Latin verb "castigare,”

"to thrash," before my return.

Your father was in the most
excellent form on his arrival.

He seems to grow younger
with each succeeding year.

I'm glad I saved
the old man from a swishing.

Oh no, dear, I did that.

And I think that Grimstone's
an absolutely cad.

Hmm. He's got a lovely daughter.

It's really rather
nasty, a man of your years

having a crush on a little girl like that.

She's only six days younger than I am.

What?

- Oh, I'm sorry.
- Dulcie, sweetheart!

Tell me, dear, what is the
secret of your eternal youth?

My what?

How do you deal with wrinkles,

bags under the eyes, and greyness?

You know, Ms. Grimstone,
you look remarkably young

for a woman of 50.

Of course, some people might say

you'd carried the
treatment a little too far.

What are you talking
about? Dulcie's only 14.

Aren't you, darling?

Would you mind not calling me darling?

I don't even know you.

This is getting nastier and nastier.

You've told me a lie!

I have not! I'm only 14 too...

It's so hard to explain.

I think I'd better go.

No, don't go, please.

Here we have the recreant lad.

Florence!

The boy remembers me.

Remember you?

Didn't I once tell you you were my life?

My love?

My all?

Well.

- Really!
- Don't be cross, dear heart.

- Paul!
- Yes?

Your father's not well, dear child.

My father's dead, my
dear. You didn't know him.

I remember him. Nice old chap.

He spoiled you with sweets.

He was just generous where
you were mean, that's all.

Do you address your
father in such round terms?

No, sir, never. My
father was a gentleman.

Are you suggesting-

- I'm suggesting that
my son is an imposter.

Unhappy boy.

Like King Lear, stricken with remorse,

his wits begin to turn.

He's quite all right. He's
trying to tell tales on me.

You've turned Dulcie against me!

She doesn't recognise me
anymore! I hate you for it!

Dulcie!

Oh, you horrid boy!

To let him give away our secret like that!

He deserves everything.

He has frozen Florence's heart.

Oh! Frozen my heart?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Where is that sweet, infectious smile?

Where is that wicked, twinkling eye?

Oh, someone give me a cigar
before I lose my temper.

I brought this especially for you.

And now you've spoiled everything.

Oh! Cheer up, cheer up.

There must be some way out of this.

Have you a light?

A light, sir!

This is the most impudent lunacy!

You stoop to imitate your father

while he stoops to imitate you!

As for you, ma'am, I do not
know whom you may be imitating

unless it be Ate, my
mythological goddess of discord.

Even the apple of my
eye has not evaded the,

as it were, maggot of midwinter madness

which seems to be devouring you all.

Dulcie, go to your room
and stand in the corner!

Don't go, Dulcie! Don't go!

Kindly compose yourself.

I can only attribute your attitude

to the inhalation of paraffin
fumes upon your journey.

She's gone and you've sent her away!

As for you, madam,

you are persona non
grata within these walls.

I recognise in you a
scarlet temptress who-

- How dare you speak so of
the woman I hope to marry!

Bultitude! Go straight to your room!

Oh, take me away with you!

- Oh, go on, angel.
- Rescue the little darling.

I'll not tolerate this!

No, you'll have to stay a little longer.

You can't come back yet.

Dick, I implore you.

No, I've got a party on
on Tuesday. You can't come.

A fraction of a second longer

and I'll expel the whole lot of you!

Expel me! Please expel me!

Do nothing of the sort!

He'll be a good boy, I promise.

Dick, I'll be a real
father to you from now on.

No.

Well, at least give
me some pocket money.

Here.

Here's a sovereign.

Well, I think you
ought to take the little pet

right away from this awful place.

I'm not your little pet, Florence.

I'm your Uncle Wuncle Sugar Ducks.

How do you know this?

And you have a mole
on your right shoulder.

Is that anatomical allegation correct?

Yes!

But I don't understand!

Et tu, Bultiude. Et...

Escape.

Escape!

I knew that Grimstone would
not hesitate to flog me now.

I watched the horseless
carriage driving away,

not with sadness, but
with a kind of relief

that so much pent-up
emotion had been expended.

I remember now making an
absurdly melodramatic remark.

Florence Verlane, you and I
were meant for one another.

One thing I know:

I shall return.

Tonight!

The fare to London was 18 and 11,

and as we were in England,

where privacy of the
individual is respected

and no questions asked,

I was able to enjoy the first
comfortable hour for months.

Excuse me, sir. Could
you oblige me with a match?

Certainly.

Thank you.

By Jove, that's witty.

I tell you, dear heart,

Paul Bultitude has gone raving mad.

Then why don't
we have him certified?

Well, that wouldn't be
in our interest, would it?

He will sign a document tonight

while he's a bit merry on ginger pop

to the effect that I shall take care

of the financial side of
the motorcar business,

which will give him more time

to concentrate on children's parties.

It is one of the most
generous and unselfish offers

ever made by one partner to another.

Well, what happens then?

Don't be childish, my darling.

Then I start fiddling the accounts.

- Ah!
- Ah!

Paradine, you are unmasked!

Oh, gracious! That terrifying child!

Keep your mouth shut, odious boy,

and I will give you half a florin.

It's no use bribing me, Paradine.

The ruination of my
business I can forgive,

but the destruction of my love, never.

I told you, the boy's raving mad.

Unhappy woman, I am not a boy.

I am Paul Bultitude.

Ha, and I suppose it's Dick in there

playing oranges and lemons?

Exactly.

Perhaps it will stop you laughing

if I tell you it was I who
put the police on your tracks

after the Bishopsgate scandal.

But you weren't born then!

It was I who refused you bail

after you contracted that
bigamist marriage of convenience

to the richest woman in Mesopotamia.

What?

She was your fourth simultaneous wife,

if I remember rightly.

Tut, but life is so short!

That's what you said then.

Well, after all, she
had had nine husbands.

She was much more self-indulgent than [!

But how does he know all this?

I told you about the mole on my shoulder.

Have you forgotten the Garuda Stone?

Heavens!

Treacherous Paradine.

It was a wishing stone
of the most embarrassing

and reliable variety.

And where is it now?

Dick has it.

I shall throw myself at his mercy.

He will understand.

You will do nothing of the sort!

Foiled!

Don't you worry, little woman.

I will find a way out of this.

You did that deliberately!

What, Mr. Bultitude?

Caught me! I call it must unfair.

Well, it's a game, Mr. Bultitude.

We're doing it for the children.

That has nothing to do with it.

If you hadn't slowed
the last note of music,

that little girl would've got caught.

All right, Mr. Bultitude.

I didn't know you were interested.

Sheila, you're out.

I am not!

- Yes, you are!
- I am not!

Yes, you are! You're a
naughty, unsporting little girl.

You know I'm right. Out you go.

Oh, you brute!

Oh, really. Girls are impossible.

I do think...

Come into the next room, Dick.

Daddy! How did you get here?

I would've taken you
away from that school,

honestly I would.

I only wanted to get the party over.

What would have done with me then, eh?

Sent you to Harrow or Eaton
or some really good school.

I see. Well, come into the other room.

Something frightful is about to happen.

Well! I never heard
anything so disgusting!

Hello, Dick.

Hmm? Does he know?

He does.

Now listen, Dick.

He's trying to cheat us.

If I hadn't escaped from Grimstone's,

you would've signed
the pernicious document

which he has prepared.

Then he'd been off with all our money.

This is serious!

Because if he does this,

there'd be no money for
either of us to go to Harrow.

Do you mean I could go to Harrow, Dad?

If we-
Yes, Dick.

Now, Dick, don't you believe him.

You don't know when you're well off.

Just think of it. No more sherbet.

No more children's parties.

No more cooking hardbake in the office.

If the money goes, he
won't have that in any case.

But I promise you one
guinea's pocket money a term,

and a couple, a couple of
children's parties every holiday.

Now be a good boy, Dick,
and give Bowler the stone

and we'll ask him to wish us back, hmm?

Well, I'd like to.

I mean, I'm tired of having a big tummy.

Come, Dick. It's not as big as all that.

Don't exaggerate!

Well, it feels so big.

And I don't like being
shortsighted and a bit deaf.

The trouble is, I...

The trouble...

What is it?

I've lost the stone!

- What?
- Good man!

I don't know where it could possibly be.

Where have you been lately?

The waxworks, the circus, Richmond Park,

the follies, and the seaside.

I have an idea I lost the
stone on the beach at Brighton.

D'oh!

Open, I say! Open!

I have knowledge the lad
has sought refuge within!

Ah. May I come in?

- Where is that unhappy boy?
- Dick! Marmaduke!

You must help...

After him, Dr. Grimstone!

- Ooh!
- Ha!

♪ Nuts in May, nuts in May ♪

♪ We'll have the Queen for nuts in May ♪

♪ On a cold and frosty morning ♪

♪ Who should we have to take her away ♪

Children's pastime shall not delay me!

Your fate is sealed!

Ah!

Look out!

Dad!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

♪ See how they run, see how they run ♪

♪ They all ran after the farmer's wife ♪

Let me but lay my hands upon him!

Seek no longer to conceal yourself!

Charge!

At arms!

Rollie!

Rollie, give me the stone.

You're dead, Dickie.

Silly Dickie.

Back from school?

Give the stone and
I'll show you a trick.

No. It's my stone.

I found it. It's mine.

I'm going to make a sling out of it.

You know, it's a magic stone.

Is it? Cor.

Yes, and if you hold it tightly

and say exactly as I say,
it'll do magic things.

- Will it?
- Yes.

Now, I want you to say,"
wish Dick and Paul back again."

That's silly.

No, it isn't! It's marvellous!

"I wish Dick..."

I wish Dick.

"And Paul..."

That's Daddy.

Oh, say "Daddy" if you wish.

Daddy.

"Back again."

Back again.

Well, there's my liver again.

It is a magic stone!

Can I wish again?

You can wish yourself blue
in the face, my darling.

Uh, no, better not.

Can I help you at all, you villain?

Huh?

I'll teach you to strike
me, you wicked old miser!

Stay your hand! I have first
claim upon the wretched lad.

Neither of you have any claim on him.

He is my son.

And now you can go to Harrow if you wish.

Um, can we afford it?

Easily!

The horseless carriages
are selling like hotcakes.

You can even afford to
move to a bigger house.

Me, move to a bigger house?

Now, when I'm all alone?

No.

No, no.

That is really the end of my story.

But I'm sure you want to know
what happened to Grimstone.

He died about two years
ago from a heart attack

while flogging a new boy.

Legend has it that he died

with the name Bultitude
engraved on his heart.

Fanny Verlane,

whose name still awakens
a pang in my heart,

left for Panama with Paradine.

I had a Christmas card from them,

sent from a place the Blue Cockatoo.

As for the stone, it
disappeared in a daring robbery.

- Got you.
- At last, McCafferty.

You've got a lot to answer for.

I'll be surprised if they
don't give you 30 years.

Yeah.

Or life.

Oh, no.

I wish I was miles away from here!

At the North Pole or somewhere!

Nobody knew what happened to the stone.

It may be still at the North Pole.

But if it isn't, may I warn the public

that should any person
find a gray-green stone

with the name of a Sheffield
manufacturer on the screw,

it is highly inadvisable

to express any wish while holding it.

Dick was married today, and I...

Well, I was lonely, I expect.

I married again myself,

and now end my life and this story

in a spirit of great tranquillity.

Rich, thanks to my dear son,

wise, thanks to Dr. Grimstone,

and happy, thanks to
my beloved wife, Alice.

Goodbye.

It really is too bad, Paul.

I've been waiting for 20 minutes

and I'm all dressed to go out!

- Shh!
- And may I tell you

that if I was 10 years
younger, I should leave you!