Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955–1962): Season 5, Episode 38 - Hooked - full transcript

Ray Marchand is married to an older woman but he is quite attracted to Nyla Foster, a very attractive college student spending the summer working at her father's fishing camp. She tells Ray...

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Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

This tableau is designed
to make it clear

that when the television
industry decides to clean house,

it means just that.

I must say the job is more
difficult than I imagined,

what with all those westerns.

I'm sure that like me you feel

there is too much
violence on television.

Naturally,
my first step has been

to request our sponsor
omit his commercials.

Thus far he is adamant.



And I can only suggest that if there are
any sensitive young children in the room,

that you make sure they turn their
heads during the next minute.

Hi.

Hi, hi.

Mrs. Marchand's
still out on the lake.

She'll be back soon.

Can I get you some beer
or coffee or something?

You a mind reader
as well as being beautiful?

Not exactly.
I recognized the car.

How could I miss it?

You like this heap?

To think people
own things like this.

I didn't know
Mrs. Marchand had a son.

She doesn't. I'm her husband.



Oh, I'm sorry.

Don't be. Happens all the time.

Mrs. Marchand's very nice.

Yeah. Are you, uh...

You work for old man Foster,

or his daughter or what?

I'm his daughter, Nyla.

Hi.

Hi.

I'm just home for the summer.
I go to State.

Oh!

The college is all right.

Yeah, it seems though with a girl
like you it'd be a waste of time.

What do you mean,
"With a girl like me?"

Just because my father
has a fishing camp

doesn't mean I'm gonna
spend my whole life here.

Oh, I didn't mean that.

I meant a girl with your looks

ought to do pretty good
in a big city.

You know, New York,
Chicago, LA.

Movies, modeling, TV maybe.

I've heard that before.
I know the score.

I'd be in the rat race
like everybody else.

Hey.

How about the beer?

Okay.

You know, you shouldn't have any trouble
getting somebody to finance your career.

That's a nice
polite word for it.

You mean, someone like
you, Mr. Marchand?

Ray.

What?

Knock off the "Mr." bit.

Look, I'm getting tired of
guys coming around here

giving me the "Dumb little
country girl" treatment.

Include me out of that group because I
don't have a nickel I can call my own.

It's my wife's dough.

I see.

You still want that beer?

Hey, there!

Here comes your wife now.

I'll see you around sometime.

I'll be coming out here again.

I might even learn
to like fishing.

That is if you'd help me.

You available?

Sometimes.

Hiya, sweetie.

Have you been waiting long?

Hours. What's so funny?

Nothing really.
Mr. Foster just told me

a funny story about muskies.

Here, you take these.

Bye, Mrs. Marchand.

I got the brakes fixed.

Oh, you're sweet.
Give mama a kiss.

Act your age, will you?

Oh, I see you've met Nyla.
Cute kid, isn't she?

Yeah, she's a walking,
breathing doll.

You! I should've known
you'd really go for that.

I meant to tell you
about her before.

Just for kicks.

And what's that
supposed to mean?

Ooh, just to watch you
prowl around.

Listen, buster, Nyla is
strictly hands-off stuff.

Not like those other babes

you've been
running around with.

You think so?

I do.

Until some court clerk hands
her a marriage license.

You're just trying
to discourage me

because you know that I could
really go for somebody like Nyla.

And then you'd lose me.

Why, lover!

I thought we understood
each other better than that.

I couldn't lose you,

not for a million dolls
like Nyla.

Not for long, anyway.

How do you know I'm not sick of
being an old woman's husband?

Maybe I want out.

Now, Ray dear, you know

not many things make me angry.

But you're getting very close.

How would you like
to have your allowance

cut off again for a week?

You better not let my father catch
you around here without your wife.

Where is your father?

Out on the lake somewhere.

He'll be back anytime.

There's no reason to get upset.

All you have to do is tell
your father that I want you,

I mean, as a guide.

And I've come
to make an appointment.

He wouldn't let me out on
the lake alone with you.

Oh, come on. How 18th
Century can you get?

Hmm?

Will you go away, please,
before he comes back?

Doesn't he ever
go into town? Hmm?

Well, if I tell you,
will you go now?

Try me.

Mondays.

Mondays there isn't much business
after the weekend anyway.

We close down.

He has a man come in to clean
the boats and the dock.

He usually goes
into town for supplies.

Come back Monday.

Don't think that I won't.

Wait a minute.

Where we going?

Down the lake a ways.

There's a beach there
with trees around it.

I left a boat there
so I can row back alone.

My father will
never be the wiser.

No, Ray, please.

All week I've been
waiting for Monday.

Well, I'm here.

Do you like it, Mr. Marchand?

The name is Ray.

Why did you marry Gladys?

The money.

I wanted to find out
what it would be like

just to have plenty of money.

And what did you find out?

That I like money
just for itself.

I think I understand.

That's why I'm sticking
through college.

I don't know how but somehow

I'm gonna make a lot of
money for my father and me.

Maybe I'll marry somebody rich.

Or maybe I'll figure a
way to make it myself.

Why didn't you let me kiss you?

I've been thinking
about what you said,

New York, California.

Maybe I'll try it
after I graduate.

You know
you want me to kiss you.

No, Ray.

Once I let you,
I'd be finished.

I've thought about you
every minute.

That's all. That's enough.

What do you mean,
"That's enough?"

It was nice.

Too nice.

That's why I can't see
you anymore, Ray.

Nyla?

Nyla?

Why haven't you
been at the store?

You've been avoiding me.

I told you last week
I can't see you anymore.

I've been looking for you
for seven days.

I wanted to see you, too.

Have you?

Even if it can't mean
anything, it just can't.

Ah, but you've thought about me.
You admitted it.

Yes, and I'm a fool. I'm not
going around with a married man.

Look, I'll think of something.

We'll be able to get together.

You'll divorce Gladys
and marry me?

Yeah.

Well, Nyla...

On second thought,
you've changed your mind.

You won't marry me.

That's what I mean, Ray.

That's what you mean! You think Gladys
is just gonna give me a divorce?

Not and give me
any money, she's not.

She'd cut me off
without a penny.

I understand, Ray.

No, I don't think you do understand.
I think I do!

I'm gonna need martinis.

I bet you even Gladys could
give you a head start

and still beat you.

Ah, Gladys can't swim.

She can't? No.

She can't swim a stroke.

Oh, that's terrible.
I didn't mean that.

What?

Forget it.

Forget what?

I was thinking about your wife.

What about her?

I don't even
want to talk about it,

it's such a horrible thought.

Maybe we better talk about it.

You were thinking about Gladys

being out in the lake,
weren't you?

About how she spends so
much time out on the lake

and yet she can't swim.

That's what you were
thinking, isn't it?

You were thinking about...

You were thinking how
convenient it would be

if she had an accident.

No. Like the boat turning over

or sinking, weren't you?

No, Ray, no, I wasn't.
Oh, yes, you were.

All right.

Maybe I was.

Maybe I was hoping it would.

But it won't, of course!

You mean, because your
father always goes with her?

Is that what you mean?

He's such a powerful swimmer.

But he doesn't always
have to be with her.

Suppose I took up fishing?

Then I'd have to
go out in the boat

and it would be so easy
to arrange the accident.

All I'd have to do is ask her
to throw out the anchor.

Then when she stood up
to do it...

Ray, we've gotta stop
talking this way.

Are we out of our minds?

That's what I'm gonna do.

I'm gonna take up fishing.

But everybody knows
you hate it!

Besides, you don't know
anything about fishing!

I can learn.

I can learn.

What are you reading, lover?

Come, see.

Shortley's Art
of Freshwater Fishing.

Mmm. Fishing?

What's the pitch? This is
out of character for you.

Is it? You like
fishing, don't you?

Sure. It's mama's
favorite pastime.

But you? You don't
even like to eat fish!

I'll, uh, make you a martini?

Uh, sure, but take it easy.

Maybe I'm just getting smart.

I guess I figured with a
couple of million people

interested in fishing, there
must be something in it, hmm?

Hmm?

Now I get it,
it's that Foster doll!

You're reading up
on fishing to hook her.

Good luck, lover!

You may not believe this
but I'm doing this for you.

For mama? That's right.

You'll try it once
and that'll be that.

What have we got to lose?

Perhaps you're right.

It would be nice to have a husband
who spends some time with you

and like the same
things you do.

Well, that's exactly
what I mean.

Reckon the fishing bug's
bitten your mister

pretty hard, Mrs. Marchand.

That's a limit catch
he's got there.

Well, I knew there had to be
something in this fishing racket.

Probably can't keep you away

from the lake from now on.

If I hadn't seen it,
I wouldn't have believed it.

But the real test will be
when we spend

a few hours out there
on a bad day.

What you mean, "bad day"?

When you don't
even get a strike.

That's what separates the men

from the ribbon clerks in this sport.
Bring 'em on.

Got the coffee on, Nyla?
It's all ready, Pop.

Had a real good day.

Mr. Marchand turned out to
be a second lzaak Walton.

You know Mr. Marchand,
don't you?

Yes, I think we met
about three weeks ago

when he came out to
pick up Mrs. Marchand.

Oh, honey, I'm sure
he remembers better than that.

Don't you, lover?

Yes, I remember Ms. Foster.

Can I put your catch
on ice for you?

Oh, would you, please?

Save them up and we'll use them

in a big celebration sometime.

Nice to see you, Ms. Foster.
I'll be in the car.

You don't know what a
compliment that was, honey.

Compliment? My husband calling you "Ms.
Foster."

That's the first time
in his life

he's ever been formal
with a pretty face.

I guess lover's
getting impatient.

I guess he is.

Customers coming.

Who? Marchands.

That Mr. Marchand

has turned into a real bear
of a fisherman, hasn't he?

Good day, Mrs. Marchand.

Good morning, Mr. Foster.

Mr. Marchand. Hi.

Oh, I couldn't
hold lover this morning.

He wanted to get right
out and get fishing.

Well, why not? I'm sorry.

I've got another party
coming in a little while.

Oh! If I'd
known you were coming,

I wouldn't have taken
this other party.

You can't very well be in two
boats at the same time, can you?

Not very well.

Let's see, um,
we can go tomorrow.

Well, why don't we go alone?

I mean, it's a nice day.

But you don't know very
much about boats, sweetie.

If I can drive a car, I'm sure I
can handle an outboard motor.

Any problems?

You take it careful,
you shouldn't have any trouble.

You see? Come on.

Well...

Come on.

All right.

Give the folks that lunch you
packed for the Johnsons.

Oh, don't bother.

It's no bother,
we can pack another.

There's not much in it,

just a couple of bottles of
beer and some sandwiches.

Thank you, honey.
That will be all we need.

Keep your fingers crossed
that we don't hit a snag

and bust a hole in the boat.

Where are you planning
to try first?

Oh, just down here a ways.

Why so far?

Foster says
it's the best place.

Did he?

I guess it's all right then.

Well, lover, you made it.
We're here.

Yeah, I made it.

Oh, would you like a sandwich
or a bottle of beer?

Later maybe, right...

Right now, maybe you'd
better throw out the anchor.

Okay, but that's hard work.

Going to college didn't
hurt your coffee any.

Thanks, Pop.

That ought to be the
Marchand boat coming back.

What happened?

I did just what you told me to.

We didn't taste
the beer and sandwiches

but there's no telling what else
you may find in the lunch basket.

Thank you, Nyla.

When lover reached over
to grab me by the ankles,

he just sort of fainted
and fell overboard.

Of course, I couldn't help him.

Everybody knows I can't swim.

Too bad, Gladys.

Such a tragic accident.

A tragedy like that!

I don't think it would
be quite proper

if we got married
in less than six months.

Do you, Floyd?

No. No, I don't.

Gladys?

Do you mind if I borrow
the convertible tonight?

The moral of this story is that fishing
is poor in the state penitentiary.

A fact which Gladys, Floyd and
Nyla subsequently learned.

And now for another moral, after which
you shall find me still on the job.

If you think watching
a commercial is tiring,

you should try
cleaning up afterwards.