Miss Carmichael please, Dr. Petersen is ready for you.
Sorry I have to go, had a perfect hand, would've beaten all of you.
-Harry will take you Miss Carmichael. -Thankyou.
Watch her carefully, don't take your eyes off her.
-How are you today, Harry? -Fine.
-You look a little bilious. -lt's the light.
-I worry about you, dear. -I'll be all right.
Must we dash into Dr. Petersen's office?
Can't we go sit somewhere in private...
-and talk, just you and I? -I'd love it, if I had time.
Would you?
Come in.
You ruined a very interesting card game, Dr. Petersen.
-You may go now, Harry. -I'll be outside.
-I hope you feel better today, Mary. -Well, I don't.
-You will. -This whole thing is ridiculous.
-What whole thing, Mary? -Psychoanalysis, it's so boring...
Lying there on the couch, like some dreary nitwit, telling all.
You can't expect to get anywhere...
listening to me babble about my idiotic childhood. Really?
My patients always regard me as a nuisance during our first talks.
I see, it's my subconscious putting up a fight...
-lt doesn't want me cured. -Exactly...
it wants to continue enjoying your disease.
Our job is to make you understand why.
When you know why you do something...
and when you first started doing it...
-Then you can start curing yourself. -You mean I've been telling you lies.
The usual proportion.
You're right. I've been lying like mad...
I hate men, I loathe them.
If one so much as touches me I want to sink my teeth...
into his hand and bite it off.
In fact I did that once. Would you care to hear about it?
-Tell me anything you remember. -We were dancing...
He kept asking me to marry him, panting in my ear...
I suddenly pretended I was going to kiss him...
and sank my teeth into his moustache. Bit it clear off.
You're laughing at me. That smug face of yours doesn't take me in...
You just want me to tell you all this so you can feel superior to me.
You and your drooling science. I detest you.
I never want to see that nasty face of yours again.
I can't bear you. You and your nickelsworth of nothing.
-Come on, Miss Carmichael. -Silly fool...
letting a creature like that worry me. Miss Frozen Puss.
Dr. Floreau. I want to talk to you alone...
I can't stand that woman.
-I'll see you later, Mary. -Come on Miss Carmichael.
Mercheson must be out of his mind to assign Carmichael to you.
You may report your findings to the new head when he arrives.
You can't treat a veteran like her without some inside information.
I have done much research on emotional and love difficulties.
Research, my eye.
I've watched your work for 6 months, it's brilliant, but lifeless.
There's no intuition in it.
You approach all your problems with an icepack on your head.
-Are you making love to me? -I will in a moment.
I'm just clearing the ground first.
I'm trying to convince you that your lack of emotional experience...
is bad for you as a doctor...
and fatal for you as a woman.
I've heard that argument from a number of amorous psychiatrists...
-wanting to make me a better doctor. -I've got a much better argument...
-I'm terribly fond of you. -Why?
-lt's like embracing a textbook. -Why do you do it then?
Because your not a textbook. You're a sweet, pulsing woman underneath.
I sense it every time I come near to you.
You sense only your own desires and pulsations.
-Mine in no way resemble them. -Stop it. I'm mad about you.
-I'm afraid I'm boring you. -No.
Your attitudes are very interesting.
I feel exactly like Miss Carmichael. I'd like to throw a book at you...
But I won't.
-May I borrow this? -Certainly.
Forgive me for my criticism. I think I better stick to books.
-And another thing... -Pardon me for marching in...
but I'm spreading the tidings. My successor will be due any moment.
Well, Dr. Mercheson, it's been a pleasure working under you.
Thankyou very much. Coming, Dr. Petersen?
I'm in no mad hurry to welcome Dr. Edwardes.
It's hard to imagine this place without you.
-I sort of go with the fixtures. -More than that, you are Green Manors.
-lt seems unfair. -You're very young in the profession.
You haven't learned the basic secret, the old must make way for the new...
particularly when he's suspected of a touch of senility.
That's ridiculous, the directors should realise you're much better.
You've been like a new man since your vacation.
The board's as fair and all-knowing as a hospital board can be.
I agree, I'm as able and brilliant as ever, but having crumbled once...
-I might crumble again. -You were overworked.
A charming diagnosis for a broken down horse.
I shall always remember your cheerfulness today as...
-a lesson in how to accept reality. -Don't be taken in by my happy air...
it's the least difficult way of saying goodbye to 20 years.
Yes, I know... Come in.
Your mail, Dr. Petersen. And Mr. Garmes.
Come in, Mr. Garmes.
You're not leaving today? I'll see you again?
I'll hover around for a while...
Like a mother hen, at least until Dr. Edwardes is firmly on the list.
-How do you feel today, Mr. Garmes? -Somewhat better, Doctor...
the thing seems a little less troublesome.
May I do that for you, Doctor?
No, thankyou, no. I can do this myself very well.
Please sit down, I'll be with you in a moment.
-That's the mighty Anthony Edwardes. -He's younger than I expected.
He's only brought one suitcase. Perhaps he doesn't mean to stay long.
Leave those daydreams to Dr. Mercheson.
Gentlemen, our new chief. Dr. Anthony Edwardes.
-Dr. Floreau. -How do you do?
-I'm Dr. Graff. -How do you do?
-Dr. Hamish. -How do you do?
There's still some staff members missing, Dr. Edwardes.
These are your quarters.
They're very festive for an institution.
Dr. Edwardes, Dr. Mercheson.
How do you do? I've heard a great deal about you, sir.
And I naturally, about you.
-You're younger than I thought. -My age hasn't caught up with me yet.
Mine has. I'm pleased to hand over the reins to steadier hands.
I'm leaving you my library, which contains, amongst other items...
your latest volume, "The labyrinth of the guilt complex"...
an excellent work. I hope Green Manors will inspire others.
I'm very grateful.
I don't know the formal words for an abdication, Dr. Edwardes...
May I say merely that these quarters which I've occupied for 20 years...
are now yours. Will you excuse me?
I spent a half hour with Dr. Edwardes. I must say I was most impressed.
I intend to learn a great deal from Dr. Edwardes...
I think we all can from a man of such obvious talent.
-You're familiar with his work? -I've read all his books...
a very keen, unorthodox mind.
It'd be dreadful if Dr. Mercheson's successor was unworthy of him.
He's joining us.
I think you know everyone here, Dr. Edwardes.
No, not yet.
-This is Dr. Petersen. -How do you do?
Dr. Edwardes.
Dr. Hamish has been showing me the grounds.
A remarkable institution must be beautiful in the summer.
I pointed out to Dr. Edwardes our various open air diversions.
Dr. Mercheson always argued we didn't do enough in that direction, I agree.
Let me warn you that Dr. Petersen is a frustrated gymnast.
Dr. Floreau considers anything beyond sitting and standing gymnastics.
-I imagine you're very fond of sport. -Yes, I am...
I miss them, particularly winter sports.
-Did you show Dr. Edwardes the grove? -Yes, yes indeed.
That's where we hope to have our new swimming pool.
-I'm a great believer in a pool. -There's a perfect spot for one.
Not an oblong one, but an irregular pool, something...
something like this, you know?
The bath houses should be here...
I take it that the supply of linen at this institution is inexhaustable.
Forgive me.
That reminds me of my professor in psychiatry, Dr. Brulov...
He could never stand a sauce bottle on the table...
or even a salt shaker, they took his apetite away.
I remember once at a banquet in his honour...
he refused to sit at the speaker's table because he was surrounded by...
by ketchup.
Last night, a dimple appeared in your cheek, that was never there before.
And I detected the outcroppings of a mother instinct toward Dr. Edwardes.
I detest that sort of high school talk.
Your reactions have upset one of my pet theories about you...
that you are immune to psychoanalysts...
and would end up in the arms of some bold nut with spiked hair.
If I were looking for that type, I would've long ago adored you.
Come in.
I... excuse me. It's from Dr. Edwardes.
Love notes already, the frank school of science.
I didn't want to come to this institution, but my brother insisted.
I can see no sense in it myself.
You see I'm not suffering from a hallucination, my guilt is very real.
I know, Dr. Edwardes, that I killed my father...
And I'm willing to pay the penalty.
Come in.
Thankyou for coming so soon.
I've been listening to Mr. Garmes and I thought you might help me out.
Mr. Garmes, you shouldn't have disturbed Dr. Edwardes.
It's all right. I'm very interested in his case.
I knew you would be, he fits your chapters on the guilt complex.
Would you mind telling me what you're talking about?
You're here to see if we can cure your guilt complex by psychoanalysis.
I have no guilt complex. I know what I know...
-I killed my father... -No you didn't...
that's a misconception that's taken hold of you.
I'm sorry Doctor, you were talking to him.
No, go on.
People often feel guilty over something they never did...
it usually goes back to childhood.
A child often wishes something terrible would happen to someone...
and if something does happen, the child believes he has caused it.
He grows up with a guilt complex over a sin that was a child's bad dream.
What I'm thinking isn't true then?
No, and by analysing yourself, you'll see that.
Would you care to go back to your room, Mr. Garmes?
Harry.
We better put him on drugs for a few days, he looks agitated.
His conviction is curious.
But you've encountered such cases very often...
you described them perfectly in your book.
Yes...
Yes, so I did.
-Would you mind doing me a favour? -Not at all, Doctor.
I've a headache. I'd like to take the afternoon off, with you.
I understand you're not on duty till after dinner.
-I intended typing up... -I need some fresh air...
and you look like it might do you good.
I was going to lunch with Dr. Hamish. He has a new patient, a cleptomaniac.
Cleptomaniacs for lunch, they'll steal the food out of your mouth.
Excuse me.
Hello.
Yes, Dr. Edwardes.
What? Yes, Anthony Edwardes.
Who? Sorry, I don't get your name.
Norma Cramer?
Please, Miss Cramer, I'm very busy and I don't know you.
Some girl, claiming to be...
I hate practical jokes, don't you?
People calling up and chirping, "Guess who I am?"
Sounds like an ex-patient. They're always full of coy tricks.
Very likely. Come on, let's go.
We'll look at some sane trees, normal grass and clouds without complexes.
I think the greatest harm done to the human race was done by poets.
Poets are dull, most of them, but not especially fiendish.
They keep filling peoples's heads with delusions about love...
writing as if it were a symphony orchestra, or a flight of angels.
-Which it isn't? -Of course not...
People fall in love because they respond to certain hair colouring...
or mannerisms that remind them of their parents.
-Or sometimes for no reason at all. -But the point is that...
people read about love as one thing and experience it as another.
Or they expect kisses to be like lyrical poems...
embraces to be like Shakesperian drama.
Then when they find out differently, they get sick and need analysis?
Yes, very often.
Professor, you're suffering from mogo on the gogo.
I beg your pardon?
-You can't get through there. -Of course I can...
I've been through here many times.
-Hurt? -Not at all.
-Here. -I'm all right.
-I usually come here alone. -That doesn't sound like fun.
I haven't done it for fun. Isn't this beautiful?
Perfect.
Lunch. What'll you have? Ham or liverwurst?
Liverwurst.
Has anybody seen our new chief today?
He has been tied up.
He frisked off with Dr. Petersen at noon.
It's odd, spending his first day running after her...
like a drooling college boy.
It'll do her good to be drooled over...
poor girl's withering away with science.
I was telling her recently something vital was missing from her life.
Don't get up, I came because I heard Mr. Garmes...
-became agitated again. -Yes, I gave him a sedative.
I'm sorry I wasn't here.
Nonsense, you look as if you had an instructive time.
-lnstructive? -Gentlemen, notice her stocking...
the lady's been climbing trees.
Or lolling in a briar patch.
No, it's trees, there are leaves in her hair.
Allow me, Dr. Petersen.
You're surpassing yourself as a charmer.
-Don't run away, have some coffee. -Dr. Petersen's already eaten...
as one can tell from the mustard on her finger...
I'd say hotdogs on the state highway.
Would you really? Your diagnosis is as usual, wrong...
Not hotdogs, liverwurst.
I'm sorry I have to leave this nursery, I must see Mr. Garmes.
Looks as if we have Casanova himself at the head of Green Manors...
Did you notice her blush everytime we mentioned his name?
It's very late.
I was going to read your book again. I'd like to discuss it...
I've never discussed an author's work with him...
At school we had several literary professors, but that was different.
-I sound rather nervous, don't I? -Not at all.
I thought I wanted to discuss your book, I'm amazed at the subterfuge...
I don't want to discuss it.
I understand.
It's remarkable to discover one isn't what one thought.
I've always been aware of what was in my mind...
And you're not now?
It's quite ridiculous.
I was stupid to come in here like a distracted child.
You're very lovely.
Don't talk that way, you'll think I came in to hear that.
I know why you came in.
Why?
Because something has happened to us.
But it doesn't happen like that, in a day.
It happens in a moment sometimes. I felt it this afternoon.
Like lightening striking.
It strikes rarely.
I don't understand how it happened.
-What is it? -lt's not you...
-it's something about your robe. -My robe? I don't understand.
Forgive me, something struck me...
I've been having a bad time with my nerves lately, your robe...
-the dark lines... -You're ill.
I'll be all right.
Hello. Yes, Dr. Edwardes.
Yes, yes. What?
Where is he? I'll be there right away.
Garmes has tried to murder Floreau, then cut his own throat.
-ls it bad? -I think so, he's in surgery.
I'll be right along.
He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll pull through.
-What's the pulse? -140.
It's going down.
-Why are the lights out? -What do you mean?
It's dark, that's why he did it, because the lights are out.
Put them on! And the doors, unlock them...
-You can't keep people in cells. -Dr. Edwardes.
Fools babbling about guilt complexes, what do you know about them?
He did it. He told me, he killed his father...
Put the lights on, quick.
It's dark, it's dark.
-He's going to collapse. -Come here.
-lt looks like his heart. -Not heart, shock of some sort...
brought about by exhaustion.
Take him to his room, I'll take care of him.
I'm sorry...
I suppose I made quite an exhibition of myself.
Who brought me here, you?
Rather a mess, going to pieces in surgery.
Who are you?
I remember now, Edwardes is dead...
I killed him, took his place. I'm someone else, I don't know who.
I killed him, Edwardes.
I've no memory, it's like looking in a mirror and just seeing the mirror.
And yet the image is there, I know it's there.
I exist, I'm there.
How can a man lose his memory and name, and still talk like this?
As if he were quite sane.
-Are you afraid of me? -No.
You're ill, loss of memory is not a difficult problem.
Yes, I know. Amnesia...
a trick of the mind for remaining sane.
You remain sane by forgetting something too horrible to remember.
You put the horrible thing behind a closed door.
-We have to open that door. -I know what's behind it...
-Murder. -No...
that's a delusion you've acquired out of illness...
Will you answer me truthfully and trust me?
I trust you but I can't think, I don't know who I am.
I don't know, I don't know.
Who telephoned you yesterday?
-Telephoned me? -Yes, in the office.
Yes, I remember.
What did she say?
She said she was my office assistant...
She was worried about me, hadn't heard...
So she was Dr. Edwardes assistant and hadn't heard from him.
What else did she say?
That she didn't recognise my voice, that I wasn't Dr. Edwardes.
-So you hung up in anger? -I was confused...
-my head ached. -Was that your first doubt?
-First doubt? -The first time you became confused?
Did anything else happen before that?
Yes, when I was in the hotel, packing to come here...
I found a cigarette case in my coat.
It frightened me, I didn't know why. Here.
The initials J.B., see them? When I saw them in the hotel room...
they made my head ache.
They're probably your initials.
J.B. J.B.
You must sleep, when you wake up you'll be able to tell me more.
-lf you trust me. -I trust you.
It's late, you better get some sleep. I'll be all right.
I'm sure there will be no police enquiry for a few days...
We'll talk and straighten things up before anything happens.
I'll come in the morning and report you too ill for service.
I have been in Dr. Edwardes office for 5 years...
and the man who spoke to me is not Dr. Edwardes.
He let me have my vacation when he left on his...
I was very worried when I didn't hear from him last week.
Then I thought he might've just come here without reopening his office...
-That's why I telephoned. -Show them the picture.
-That's a different man. -He was taking a chance.
Somebody might've known what Edwardes looked like.
-You never saw the real Edwardes? -No, I never met him.
But I felt something was wrong from the moment our man appeared.
He didn't impress me as a scientist...
and last night when he collapsed, I became actually alarmed.
What do you think made him break down last night?
It's obvious now, Garmes.
Our impostor, I'm almost certain, is an amnesia case.
Garmes brought him back to reality for an instant...
Being unable to face the truth, he collapsed.
-Do you think he killed Edwardes? -There's no question of it...
He killed Edwardes and took his place in order to conceal his crime...
by pretending the victim was still alive.
This sort of act is typical of the short sighted cunning...
that goes with paranoid behaviour.
We're wasting time, his room is upstairs.
This is Dr. Petersen.
-These gentlemen are from the police. -The police?
-What has happened? -Nothing to be alarmed about.
Our Dr. Edwardes is a paranoid impostor.
And is very likely guilty of having murdered Edwardes...
he's disappeared.
He is not in his room?
-You left him in his room? -Yes.
Did he say anything? About himself, about why he broke down?
No, he wasn't himself, he was unable to speak coherently.
You don't seem surprised to hear that he's a fake and maybe a murderer.
I'm used to surprises in my work.
You suspected something?
No. I thought his collapse due to mental strain.
That's a funny diagnosis for a fellow who's just come from vacation.
I made no diagnosis, I was shocked he collapsed. I didn't think.
We're all pretty shocked, Sheriff, the fellow took us all in...
all except Dr. Mercheson.
And he didn't say anything to give you an idea where he went?
No.
He may be hanging around, we'll have to go over the grounds first.
I'm sorry this has happened to you, Constance...
I felt like warning you about him but I wasn't certain.
Don't worry, it's not your fault. They're bound to find him.
I'll keep you informed of the police activities.
The fellow expected to get away with it, like any criminal.
Nonsense, obviously an amnesia case, he didn't know who he was...
or what he was doing. What do you say, Constance?
I don't know.
If you were anyone but Constance Petersen, the human glaciar...
-and custodian of truth, I'd say... -You'd say what?
My dear, forgive me my thoughts, you are telling the truth...
I was going to say that you were holding something back.
I'm a sentimental ass...
A woman like you couldn't get involved emotionally with any man...
-sane or insane. -I suggest you change the subject.
I will be interested to ask him certain questions...
when they bring him back here.
-You'll never ask him any questions. -Why not?
For the simple reason the police will never find him alive...
An amnesia case, with the police after it, is an obvious suicide.
He'll put an end to his pain and nightmares...
by blowing his brains out, or dropping himself out of a window.
You're offending Dr. Petersen with your callousness.
I'm sorry, Constance, that some still have the manners of medical students.
I'm not offended. I think Dr. Floreau's ideas are accurate.
But I'm rather tired. Goodnight.
The police have announced that our neighbourhood...
is free of the dangerous madman who escaped from Green Manors...
The search for the impostor has shifted to Manhattan...
This is WQZK, Rutland, George Bell.
We now resume our scheduled program.
Sure feels good to take the weight off your feet.
I'm from Pittsburgh. There's a town for you.
You really can meet people in Pittsburgh...
friendly, a fellow could live and die in this town and never meet nobody.
How about you and me having a drink together, now we're aquainted?
No, thankyou.
You don't have to be so snooty about it.
I'll have you know, I know better people than you in Pittsburgh.
I'm sure you're a great social success, given half a chance.
Now you're talking.
Do you mind not sitting in my lap in public?
That's enough of that.
-Beat it. -I'm a guest in this hotel.
-Who do you think you are? -I'm the house detective. Get going.
This town's getting worse and worse.
It's all right, you don't have to go.
I'm sorry you were being annoyed. I've been watching you...
and I figured something like this might happen.
The chief duty of a house detective is to spot trouble in advance.
-You're not registered here, are you? -No.
I didn't think so, the way you were wandering around.
Looking for somebody? Don't be afraid of me...
I've got you spotted as a lady in trouble, from out of town.
Schoolteacher, or librarian, which is it?
-Schoolteacher. -I thought so...
they always look like they lost something. Maybe I can help you.
-I don't think so, thankyou. -Looking for some man, I suppose...
must be a relative.
And from the worried look, I'd say a close one.
A husband, for instance.
-I'm really amazed. -I hit it?
-But how could you tell? -I'm a kind of psychologist.
You've got to be in my line.
Now, would you mind filling in a few of the blank spaces for me?
-No, it's just that we quarrelled. -And then you got sorry...
and you came running after him? That's the usual psychology.
-But now you're afraid to face him? -No, no...
It's that I don't know what room he's in...
He told a friend he was coming here, but under a different name...
so I couldn't find him. But I must find him and apologise.
When did he arrive here?
-Yesterday morning. -Give me a description of him.
He's very tall and attractive...
dark hair, rather rugged face...
-brown eyes, and one suitcase. -I'll go check on him.
-Did you find him? -I think we got a line.
About 25 guys answering your description came yesterday...
These are their registration cards. You might recognise the handwriting.
That's very clever of you.
-This is his handwriting. -John Brown?
Not much imagination for an alias. Room 3033.
Thankyou, I was going to stay all day watching for him.
I knew you would, glad to be of service. I'm married too...
and I know how it feels to have a wife chase after you to apologise.
Constance.
Take care of you and cure you and remain with you till that happens.
But you can't help hide a criminal.
You can't jeopardise your standing as a doctor, you're just starting out...
-I won't let you be stupid about it. -I couldn't bear it away from you.
I went through yesterday holding my breath as if I were being hunted...
I couldn't eat, work, do anything but think of you.
So I had to come.
I'll get a room on this floor, I'm here as your doctor only...
It has nothing to do with love.
Nothing at all, nothing at all.
Try remembering, let your mind go back to your childhood.
Was it happy? Whom did you know?
I'm haunted, but I can't see by what.
-lt's no use. -You lived somewhere...
you had a mother, you were loved, had friends.
Yes, and probably a wife.
Can you remember her?
I didn't say I had one. I said I probably had.
No, darling. Thank heaven I can't remember a wife.
-I'd like to ask a medical question. -Constance...
would you mind not prodding me, it mixes me up...
I can't remember anything. Except that I love you.
How would you diagnose a pain, in the right upper quadrant...
a pain that is persistant?
Gall bladder, a heart case, or pneumonia...
depending on the patient's history.
It's obvious you're a doctor.
Yes, the eminent Dr. X.
If we can unlock one tiny memory, it'll give us the key to the others.
The only thing that comes to mind that I keep thinking...
-is the logic of the situation. -What logic?
That I was with Edwardes.
"Police believe the impostor who escaped from Green Manors...
to be the patient that visited the real Dr. Edwardes...
in the Cumberland mountains the day that he disappeared.
No trace has been found, since he left the Cumberland resort...
in the company of his supposed patient".
Do you remember that? Why do you believe you were with him?
Because wherever we went, I came back with his identity...
I wouldn't have come back as Edwardes if I hadn't known he was dead.
How would I know that, if I hadn't been with him when he died?
-Were you? -I don't remember...
but logically I know that I must've been.
And logically, I also know why the body hasn't been found...
because it was hidden by me.
Don't you see that you're imagining all this?
You call yourself names, insist without proof that you're a murderer.
You know what that is, don't you? A guilt complex that speaks for you.
A guilt fantasy that goes way back to your childhood.
I think you're quite mad. You're much crazier than I...
to do all this for a creature without a name.
To run off with a pair of initials.
The police have not given your name or case history to the papers...
That must mean that your name was not in Dr. Edwardes' files...
You were in an accident.
Where was it?
What happened to your hand? It was burned.
You had an operation in the last 6 months.
A skin graft, 3rd degree burns. Your hand was burned. Where?
-lt hurts. -Try remembering.
-My hand hurts. -Your hand is remembering...
open your mind and the pain will leave.
-Where did it happen? -I can't it hurts.
-What happened? -My hand's burning.
Try to remember.
-My dear are you all right? -I'm all right. What happened?
You re-lived an accident you'd been in...
But the memory only touched the part of your mind that feels...
It's beginning, it really is. You'll feel better soon.
-Who could that be? -I know.
I sent down for the latest editions of the papers.
You ordered the afternoon papers? They just came, I brought them up.
Just a minute.
-Here you are. -Thanks.
He recognised me in the paper. We've got to go, we can't pack.
Listen, when you left the mountains you must've passed through New York.
Wherever you went, you must've been in the railroad station...
you must've heard Edwardes ask for tickets to somewhere.
-I don't remember. -You will...
when you come to the ticket window, try to re-live the other time...
try to repeat what was said. Ask for the same tickets.
I'll try.
Philedelphia, 6.39. Thankyou.
You went someplace with Edwardes, ask for tickets to that place.
8.46, thankyou.
What is it?
What do you want, sir?
Please step aside.
-I want 2 tickets. -Where to?
Rome.
-Rome. -To where?
Rome.
What Rome?
He means Rome, Georgia.
-Anything wrong? -My husband's ill, we're going home.
Here you are, 2 tickets to Rome, Georgia.
He'll be all right in a minute. These dizzy spells go away.
He looks pretty sick, I'll call a doctor.
No, he'll be all right. Do you feel better now, darling?
Pull yourself together. You're all right.
-When does the train leave? -Birmingham special...
in 10 minutes, track 17.
-I got confused. -Thankyou.
I'll take you to the train in case anything happens.
He's recovered now. You're very nice to offer help, but I can get along.
Act as if we're taking this train. We'll walk down and turn back.
-What's the matter with this train? -The policeman heard us buy tickets.
-Did he act suspicious? -No...
but if he goes to the police station, he may find descriptions of us...
remember us, and telephone Rome, Georgia to have us picked up.
We can't go back to the hotel. They'll have a million police there.
We're not going back, we're going to Rochester...
Come on, we'll go to Grand Central Station.
By the way, what are we going to Rochester for?
-We're going to visit Dr. Brulov. -The one who doesn't like ketchup.
He was my analyst, he psychoanalysed me.
-Really? What was wrong with you? -All analysts have to be analysed...
by other analysts before they start practicing.
That's to make sure they're not too crazy.
Apparently the mind is never too ill to make jokes about psychoanalysis.
-I'm sorry. I'm a pig. -I keep forgetting you're a patient.
So do I. When I hold you like this I feel well.
Will you love me as much when I'm normal?
-I'll be insane about you. -I am normal.
At least there's nothing wrong with me that a long kiss wouldn't cure.
I've never treated a guilt complex like that before.
-We don't want to attract attention. -Everybody's doing it.
-You both going? -Yes, yes.
Don't read the paper. Let's pick up where we left off.
What?
Try to recall the first moment you thought you were Edwardes.
-Darling, I've a confession to make. -I'm listening.
As a doctor, you irritate me.
I'm here, swooning with love. You ask me a question...
and I don't like you anymore. Do you have to sit there smiling...
like some know-it-all schoolteacher?
I can't help it, that's what happens in analysis...
As the doctor begins to uncover the truth...
the patient develops a fine hearty hatred of the doctor.
You're going to hate me a great deal before we're through.
-And you're going to like that? -As a scientist, yes.
And if I biff you one, you'll consider it a sort of diploma?
-Yes, but don't biff too hard. -No...
I think we should go on with our investigation.
-We have some new facts now. -What facts?
You're a doctor, you were in an accident, your hand was burned...
-and you were in Rome. -I was never in Rome in my life.
You were either there, or going there.
You remembered something no doubt connected with burning your hand.
Rome, think of Rome. Maybe Rome, ltaly.
When did you go to Rome? What did you do in Rome?
Think.
Rome...
I remember something.
-Fighter planes spotted us. -You were flying?
Transport. Medical core. Over Rome, heading north.
-What happened? -They hit us.
Caught fire, uniform burned, bailed out.
What else?
I don't know. It blacks out.
-You left the army? -Yes.
I probably deserted, I hated it.
I hated killing, I can remember that much.
Your guilt complex was obviously inflamed by being a soldier.
Stop it, babbling like some phoney King Solomon...
half-witted devil talk that doesn't make sense...
if there's anything I hate it's a smug woman.
Darling, we're just beginning. Don't biff too hard yet.
I worked as Dr. Brulov's assistant for a year after my internship...
He got me the post at Green Manors. You'll like Alex.
I doubt that. One psychoanalyst in my hair is enough.
-What are you going to tell him? -That we're on our honeymoon.
Doctor, you think of the most wonderful prescriptions.
-Good evening, is Dr. Brulov in? -No, he went out after dinner.
He ought to be back soon.
Would you tell him his supper is on the table...
I'm sorry, I can't wait any longer.
And there are 2 men waiting for him in there.
-How do you do? -How do you do?
-How's your mother been lately? -Still complaining about rheumatism.
She figures I ought to get transferred down to Florida.
I said, "Do expect me to sacrifice all chance of promotion...
just because you got rheumatism?"
Did you take the subject up with the head?
Yeah, he said a transfer could be arranged, but...
I'd have to start over as a sergeant. I think that's unfair...
after all the work I did on that narcotics case.
-What did he say to that? -A lot of things...
he made some crack about me being a mama's boy...
Pardon me, that may be for me I gave headquarters this number.
Hello. Yes, Lieutenant Cooley.
Any new developments?
When did you find that out?
No, right, I'll be down later. Goodbye.
Deiter, what is this kind of persecution?
I told the police yesterday, I know nothing about Edwardes.
But yesterday you had some kind of theory...
I explained to the policeman that if Edwardes...
took on vacation a paranoid patient...
he was a bigger fool than I ever knew he was.
It is the same as playing with a loaded gun.
Do you think this patient might've killed him?
I'm not thinking anything, I'm not a bloodhound.
Was Dr. Edwardes a great friend?
What are you talking about? The man was impossible.
You had a quarrel with him, when you were in New York?
Not New York, in Boston at the Psychiatry Convention...
What kind of analyst wants to cure psychosis by taking people skating?
Or to a bowling alley?
I understand you threatened to punch his nose.
All I did was get up and walk out, and kick over a few chairs...
which nobody was sitting in. So don't ask me any more questions...
-You have now the facts. -Thankyou very much.
I'm sorry to have bothered you.
If anything turns up, we'll let you know.
Good bye ma'am. Good night, sir.
What do you suppose they're snooping around for?
Next they'll give me the third degree.
Alex, I was going to write, but it happened so quickly...
-I got married. -Who is married?
-Alex, my husband, John Brown. -I'm glad to meet you officially.
You are married? There is nothing so nice as a new marriage...
no psychosis yet, no aggression, no guilt complexes...
I congratulate you, and wish you have babies and not ogres...
How about we have a glass of beer, like in the old days?
The truth is, we have no hotel room. All the hotels were so crowded.
What do you want with a hotel? That's for millionaires, not lovebirds.
You'll stay right here. Look how I'm living by myself with a can opener.
My housekeeper has gone to work, my secretary is a wreck...
and I've got a cleaning woman who can't cook and hates me...
Cook me my coffee in the morning and the house is yours.
-That's wonderful of you. -There's nothing wonderful about me.
It's nice to see my old assistant. The youngest but the best I ever had.
But who knows now? As my old friend Sanabaum used to say...
"Women make the best psychoanalysts, until they fall in love...
after that, they make the best patients."
Good night and happy dreams...
-Which we will analyse at breakfast. -Goodnight and thanks for everything.
Any husband of Constance is a husband of mine.
-Goodnight. -Goodnight.
-He was so pert with the police. -Wasn't he?
He carried it off like an expert.
I felt stupid for a few minutes, but it turned out well.
Providing the professor isn't wiser than he seems.
Alex, no. Things are different here since my time.
Alex didn't think anything, he's sweet.
Maybe, but he didn't even ask us where our bags were.
He's always like that, in a complete dream state socially.
You know, this room does look changed, but it isn't...
It's I who am changed. It's called transfer of affects.
What is?
The fact that everything seems so wonderful in this room.
-That's what it's called, is it? -Did the police disturb you?
No, one ignores such trifles on a honeymoon.
I take it this is your first honeymoon.
Yes, I mean, it would be if it were.
For what it's worth, I can't remember ever having kissed any other woman.
I have nothing to remember of that nature either.
You're very sweet.
-Of course, I'm no child. -Far from it.
I'm well aware that we're all bundles of inhibitions.
Dynamite.
-Please don't do that. -Why?
It isn't ethical, I'm here as your doctor.
Well, you can stop worrying doctor, I'm going to sleep on the couch.
No, that's also unethical.
This honeymoon is complicated enough, without you dragging ethics into it...
I suppose the floor is out.
The patient always sleeps in the bed, the doctor occupies the couch...
-fully dressed. -I see you know the rules.
-You remember something. -No.
-This room reminds you of something. -No.
You're resisting a memory, what is in your mind?
-I don't know. -Yes you do, you're resisting it.
Don't start that again. Don't stand there with that wise look...
-I'm sick of your double talk. -You're looking at the bed.
What frightens you? White, lines...
When I made fork marks on a tablecloth it agitated you...
and that night you kissed me, you pushed me away because of my robe...
it was white, with dark lines. Try to think...
Why does white frighten you? Why do lines frighten you?
-Think of white. -lt frightens me, I can't look.
Don't run away, stand still. Look, remember.
Darling.
Oh darling, you mustn't be frightened...
You mustn't, we're making progress.
We have the word white on our side.
Is that you, Mr. Brown?
I thought it was you.
I was unable to sleep, so I came down to work.
When you're old, you don't need to sleep so much.
I'm having a glass of milk and some crackers, join me please...
I'll get another glass. I'm glad to have company.
Nobody likes to have crackers and milk by himself.
When I was a young man, I was always saying...
"If I could only get alone, instead of wasting time with people...
I would be happy."
Now I am saying just the opposite.
This is the secret of old age, everything becomes just the opposite.
Do you know who makes the most trouble in the world? Old people.
They are always worrying what will be in the world tomorrow...
after they are gone.
That's why we have wars.
Because old people have nothing else they can get excited about.
Well, we'll drink to you...
to when we're young, and know nothing except living.
Alex, Alex are you all right?
Good morning. Yes I am all right. Thankyou.
-I fell asleep in the chair. -Yes.
-What time is it? -Seven o'clock.
I was dreaming. This morning I get some real coffee.
My husband must've gone out very early, you didn't...
He didn't go out. He's over there on the couch.
He's all right, he's sleeping fine.
My dear child, do you think old Alex Brulov...
one of the biggest brains in psychiatry...
is unable to make 2 and 2 come out 4?
I should've known.
The moment I see you with a husband, whose pupils are enlarged...
who has a tremor of the left hand, who is on honeymoon with no bags...
and whose name is John Brown. I know practically what is going on.
-What happened? -Only what I expected.
There is no use taking chances with a possibly dangerous case.
I sit here waiting, if you scream, I'm ready...
So, he comes downstairs and he's dangerous, I can see by his face.
So I keep talking, while I put some bromide into a glass of milk...
enough to knock out 3 horses.
When he falls down, I run up to see you, you're sleeping like a baby...
and I come back here to watch out.
The struggle against his condition agitates him at times...
but there's no danger in him.
This is what I found in his hand last night.
He didn't know he had that. You mustn't think that.
He didn't try to hurt you, he couldn't.
-My child he is not responsible. -That's not correct.
I'm just a little more experienced with his type than you.
I grant you know more than me, but...
Do not complete this sentence with the usual female contradictions.
You grant I know more than you, but you know more than me?
Women's talk!
-What are you going to do? -Something more for you than me...
-I'm calling the police. -No, please...
You are giving me orders? My pupil?
You don't know this man, you know only science...
you know his mind, but not his heart.
We are speaking of a schizophrenic, and not a valentine.
We're speaking of a man.
Love.
Look at you, Dr. Petersen, the promising psychoanalyst...
is now all of a sudden a schoolgirl in love with an actor, nothing else.
-Alex, let me tell you about him. -What is there for you to say?
We both know that the mind of a woman in love...
is operating on the lowest level of the intellect.
Doctor told me not to smoke in the morning, but I'm too excited.
You're right. I'm not an analyst, I'm not even a doctor here...
I'm not talking to you as one.
Believe not what I say, but what I feel.
The mind isn't everything, the heart can see deeper sometimes.
A police investigation might ruin his chance of recovery...
I can save him.
But if he killed Dr. Edwardes, how can you help?
He didn't, he didn't.
But if it turns out he did, which I'm certain it will...
It won't. You told me what Freud said. A man can't do anything in amnesia...
that his real character wouldn't have done.
And how do you know what his real character is?
-I know, I know. -She knows...
This is the way science goes backward...
Who told you what he is? Freud? Or a crystal ball?
I couldn't feel this way toward a man who was bad...
or who had committed murder.
I couldn't feel this pain for someone who was evil.
You are 20 times crazier than him.
She couldn't love him if he was no good.
This is baby talk, nothing else. What do you want I should do?
Give me time to treat and cure him, before the police find him...
and shock him into an incurable condition.
-This could take a year. -No, no.
Half a year? We should sit and hide for half a year?
Waiting to find out if he'll cut your throat, my throat...
and set fire to the house. My dear girl...
even to a woman in love, it must seem a little unreasonable.
Just a few more days, before you turn him over...
a few more days, and then if I can't do anything...
if we both can't, then you can call the police.
You're not hiding a criminal. There's no evidence...
except his own guilt fantasies. He's just a possible witness...
to what happened to Edwardes.
In his condition, he could tell the police nothing.
You're doing nothing against the law, we're helping...
by investigating him as doctors...
Doctors who want the truth even more than they do.
-All right. -You'll wait?
Go make me coffee. I'll pretend I'm acting sensible for a few days.
Thankyou, thankyou very much.
I'll make you coffee, with an egg in it.
-Who are you? -I'm Dr. Brulov.
Brulov? That's right.
-Who's been feeding me bromide? -I gave you, to sleep.
Brulov.
Oh, yes, Rochester.
-What's your name? -I don't know.
-Constance told you. -Nobody told me...
if I don't know an amnesia case when I see one, what do I know?
You don't remember your father or mother?
-Wife, or sweetheart? -No.
Don't fight me, I'm going to help you if I can.
I'm going to be your father image. You must look on me as your father.
Trust me, lean on me. It's a short cut, but we haven't much time.
All right, go ahead, I'm leaning.
Maybe you've got something to tell me...
a single thought, a few words in the corner of your head?
Go on, talk to me, whatever comes in your head, just say.
-There's nothing. -Maybe you dreamt something?
-Yes. -What did you dream?
I don't believe in dreams, that Freud stuff's a lot of hooey.
You're a fine one to talk.
You've got amnesia, and a guilt complex...
you don't know if you're coming or going...
but Freud is hooey, this you know.
Wise guy.
-You don't like me, Papa. -You want I should help you, or not?
I'm sorry.
I'll explain to you about dreams so you don't think it is hooey.
The secret of who you are and what has made you run away...
all these secrets are buried in your brain...
but you don't want to look at them.
The human being often doesn't want to know the truth about himself...
because he thinks it'll make him sick.
So he makes himself sicker, trying to forget. You follow this?
-How do you feel? -Coffee.
Awful.
The patient is going to tell us what he dreamt.
Fine, I'll take notes, I'll get my glasses.
Now, here's where dreams come in.
They tell you what you're trying to hide.
But they tell it to you all mixed up like pieces of a puzzle.
The problem of the analyst is to examine this puzzle...
and put the pieces in the right places...
and find out what the devil you're trying to say to yourself.
Let's see. I kept thinking while dreaming that it all meant something.
There was some other meaning in it that I ought to find out.
We'll find out.
I can't make out just what sort of a place it was...
it seemed to be a gambling house.
But there weren't any walls, just curtains with eyes painted on them...
a man was walking around with a pair of scissors, cutting them in half...
and then a girl came with hardly a thing on and started kissing everyone.
She came to my table first.
Did you recognise this kissing bug?
I'm afraid she looked a little like Constance.
This is plain, ordinary, wishful dreaming. Go on.
I was sitting there, playing cards, with a man who had a beard...
I was dealing to him, I turned up the 7 of clubs.
He said, "That makes 21, I win". But when he turned up his cards...
they were blank. Then the proprietor came and accused him of cheating...
He yelled, "This is my place...
if I catch you cheating, I'll fix you."
I'm sorry about that kissing bug.
I'm glad you didn't dream of me as an egg beater as one patient did.
-Why what would that mean? -Never mind.
Does it make any sense to you, what I dream?
Not yet. You're trying to tell yourself something...
what it is, we'll figure out later.
-There's a lot more to it. -Go on, try to recall the details...
the more cockeyed, the better for the scientific side of it.
Leaning over the sloping roof of a high building was a man with a beard.
I yelled at him to watch out. Then he fell, slowly, his feet in the air.
Then I saw the proprietor again, the man in the mask...
he was hiding behind a tall chimney and he had a small wheel in his hand.
I saw him drop the wheel on the roof.
Suddenly I was running, then I heard something beating over my head...
it was a great pair of wings...
they chased and almost caught me, and I came to the bottom of the hill.
I must've escaped, I don't remember.
That's all there was, I woke up and saw Dr. Brulov.
-Have some coffee. -Thanks.
-Something's happening. -What is it?
-Snow. -The light frightened him...
photophobia.
No, it was the snow.
That's the white he's afraid of, snow and those tracks.
-What tracks? -The sled tracks in the snow.
His first sympton was shock at the sight of fork lines on a white cloth.
And my robe had dark lines on it.
And last night the white coverlet, and those tracks in the snow.
-We'll pull the blinds down. -Dr. Edwardes was fond of sports...
he mentioned tennis and skiing as valuable...
in the treatment of mental disorders.
Skiing...
ski tracks in the snow.
That's what those dark lines symbolise for him...
his horror of them means...
they're immediately connected with the cause of his amnesia.
Yes, imagine you're on skis.
Where did Edwardes go skiing? We must find out.
Can you tell us where? Try.
He has told us, in his dream. Let me see your notes.
What can we do for him?
You're not his mama you're an analyst...
leave him alone he'll come out of this by himself.
The sloping roof, that means mountainside.
They were skiing. The father image, the bearded man is Edwardes...
That's simple, he plunged over the precipice while skiing.
And then a shadow chases him up and down a hill.
That could mean he was escaping from a valley.
Ski resorts are called valleys, like Sun Valley.
He was being pursued by a winged figure, a witch or...
No, the figure was you. If you grew wings, you'd be an angel.
The dream is trying to tell him the name of the resort.
Angel, Angel Valley...
Do you remember Angel Valley?
We can call a travel agency and check all the resort names.
It wasn't Angel Valley, I remember it.
-lt was a place called Gabriel Valley. -What else do you remember?
Who was the masked figure in your dream?
It was an accident, a skiing accident, remember?
-Dr. Edwardes went over... -lt was no accident.
I can't stand this anymore. I've had enough.
We've got to call the police.
No, we have to go to Gabriel Valley, you have to go with me.
-This is for Cooley when he comes in. -I'll tell him.
At 4.45? Thankyou, goodbye.
There's a train leaving in an hour, we can connect for Gabriel Valley.
I know what I have to do, I can't go on endangering you...
I know about last night.
-Nothing happened. -But it will, I've got to end it.
I love you, but I'm not worth loving. You can help me afterward.
There's no help afterward...
If you give yourself up in your condition, there is no afterward.
-I can cure you. -But you can't undo a murder.
-There is none to undo. -I killed him.
-Oh, stop. -And now you, last night I...
-Don't try to stop me, I have to go. -Guilt...
you've lived with it a long time, haven't you?
-Yes. -Since childhood.
-What? -Ever since your childhood...
you've tried to run away from something.
You always felt guilt for everything. What was it in your youth?
It must be terrible if you'd rather think you murdered him...
-than remember what happened. -Enough.
You said you loved me. Look at me, why am I fighting for you?
-Because I love you, I need you. -But I'm nothing.
-Come with me to Gabriel Valley. -What good will that do?
When you see the hill where it happened, you'll remember.
We'll go skiing like you did with Edwardes...
-I was there, I killed him. -You'll see what really happened.
-You mean because it'll happen again. -Yes.
And what if I killed him?
Isn't it true that if the episode is repeated...
I'm likely to do the same thing I did before?
-How do you know I won't kill again? -Because I know you didn't kill him.
You believe in me enough to take such a chance?
Of course. We're going back to that ski run.
We'll find out what in your childhood has haunted you all your life.
We'll also find out what happened to Dr. Edwardes.
Ever seen her before?
Let's go.
I've always loved feminine clothes but never dared to wear them...
but I'm going to after this, I'll wear exactly what pleases me...
and you...
even very funny hats...
the kind that make you look a little drunk.
Put them on.
It was something in my childhood. Something in my childhood!
I remember now. I killed my brother.
I didn't kill my brother, it was an accident.
That's what has haunted you all your life, the memory you were afraid of.
It's like looking into an old picture book...
seeing familiar pictures one at a time.
I went to Colombia Medical School, had a girl with a giggle...
who luckily married my roommate, Kim. And by the way...
-My name's John Balentine. -I'm very pleased to meet you.
My army record's all right. I was invalided out.
I ran into Dr. Edwardes when I was in the Cumberland Mountains...
trying to recover from some nerve shock I got when the plane crashed.
He was on vacation, but I asked him to help me...
and he invited me to go skiing. We went through New York...
and I seem to remember going to lunch, I'm still a little vague...
We arrived here, and the accident happened at that spot.
Where you saved me.
Let's not have any confusion about who saved whom...
He went over there, it's still a little foggy, but...
I do know he was about 50 feet ahead of me, I saw him plunge...
that was the thing that set you off, the start of your guilt complex...
that made you think you'd killed him. So you had to run away from that too.
You took on the role of Edwardes, to prove to yourself he wasn't dead...
and so therefore you hadn't killed him.
Professor, I never realised in my amnesic state, how lovely you are.
Now that you got your head back, you musn't lose it again.
It's too late, I'm beyond cure.
-How's it feel to be a great analyst? -Not so bad.
-And a great detective? -Wonderful.
And madly adored?
Very wonderful.
You'll look wonderful...
in white, with a little orange blossom in your hair.
That sounds vaguely as if it has something to do with marriage.
A brilliant analysis, Doctor.
Hello.
You know Lt. Cooley and Sg. Gillespie from Rochester?
-Yes, we know them quite well. -How did you find us?
-No thanks to your friend Dr. Brulov. -We made enquiries at the station...
-You left a trail a mile wide. -You arrived in the nick of time.
I believe that's the usual expression.
We found the body of Dr. Edwardes...
It's almost exactly where you told the local police it would be.
-You remembered the spot very well. -Thank goodness it's all cleared up.
Not quite, Dr. Petersen. I'm afraid a bullet was found in the body.
That's impossible.
-lt was in his back. -The case is one of murder.
We have to detain you, sir. It's my duty to inform you...
that anything you say may be used against you.
No, you mustn't say you killed him. Try to remember what happened...
before Edwardes went over.
But when he said he killed him, he wasn't himself...
he was in a state of great mental distress.
You can't put him away, you can't...
It'll destroy his mind, don't you understand?
Goodbye my dear.
We won't give up. I'm going to fight and get you free.
My dear girl, you can't keep bumping your head against reality...
and saying it is not there.
The evidence was definite.
We can't remove it by wishing or crying.
He trusted me. I led him into a trap. I convicted him...
Is that real enough for you?
There is no one to blame...
The case was a little deeper than you figured, this often happens.
You must realise one thing: it is over, for both of you.
It's not over.
-You will have other cases. -lt's not over, it never will be.
Don't ask me to stop, I can't.
I'm sorry...
Thanks for straightening things out with Dr. Mercheson and everyone.
It is very sad, to love and lose somebody...
but in a while you will forget...
and take up the threads of your life where you left off, not long ago...
and you will work hard, there's lots of happiness in working hard...
Maybe the most.
I will write to you.
Alex, you're very good.
I'm sorry to hurry you Dr. Brulov, but your car is waiting...
-You've just time. -Thankyou...
I'm always late, always forgetting.
-A brilliant man. -I should've gone to the station.
You're too tired. I know that feeling of exhaustion well.
One must humour it, or it explodes.
I'll try to help you, in every way.
-You will take care of yourself? -Yes.
And try to forget things better forgotten.
You've got a great career ahead of you Constance.
Thankyou. At least one good thing came out of this...
you're back at Green Manors.
Who knows what would've happened under Dr. Edwardes.
I knew Edwardes only slightly, I never really liked him...
but he was a good man, in a way, I suppose.
Well, goodnight Constance, I hope you feel rested in the morning.
I knew Edwardes only slightly...
I never liked him.
I knew Edwardes only slightly...
knew Edwardes slightly...
knew Edwardes... knew Edwardes slightly...
knew Edwardes...
knew...
Come in.
I want to talk to you, Dr. Mercheson.
It's rather late, and you need rest, Constance.
I must talk to you.
Nocturnal conferences are bad for the nerves.
-ls it something about work? -Yes.
-Can't it wait till morning? -lt can't wait.
Do sit down.
Now, what's your problem?
It's a dream one of my patients reported...
-May I ask who the patient is? -The patient is John Balentine.
I fancied that.
You're still working on the possibility of his innocence?
Charming loyalty, one of your most attractive characteristics.
What did he dream?
That he was in a gambling house, full of people playing with blank cards...
Blank cards? Obviously he was trying to deny it was a gambling house.
One person went around cutting the drapes in half...
another was a scantily dressed girl who was kissing everybody...
With a little imagination one could imagine them inmates of Green Manors.
That's what I had in mind.
Interesting notion to play around with, do go on.
There were eyes painted on the curtains around the walls.
Oh, the guards at Green Manors.
The patient was playing cards, no longer blank...
a game of 21 with a bearded man, who was evidently Dr. Edwardes...
Yes, one usually dreams of one's analyst with a beard.
He dealt Edwardes the 7 of clubs, and Edwardes said, "That makes it 21 ."
I'd say the patient was trying to mention a locale...
-the 7 of clubs might mean a club. -Yes, with the word 21 in it.
There is such a place in New York, it's called the 21 Club.
I've heard of it.
The patient dreamt...
the proprietor came in and began accusing Dr. Edwardes of cheating...
He ordered Edwardes out and said, "I won't allow you to play here...
this is my place, I'm going to fix you."
The locale has a double identity: the 21 club, and Green Manors...
But the proprietor seems to belong more to the latter.
In fact, I would say that this angry proprietor who threatened Edwardes...
was myself.
It seemed that way to me.
I presume you only arrived at this solution tonight?
Yes.
And have confided your psychoanalytical findings to nobody?
Not yet.
Was there any more of the dream?
Yes. The patient dreamt he and Edwardes were on a sloping roof...
he saw Edwardes plunge over the edge to his death.
He also saw the angry proprietor hiding behind a chimney laughing...
holding a small wheel, he dropped the wheel.
The symbolism of the wheel escapes me.
It was a revolver.
The proprietor who threatened Edwardes life in the 21 Club...
dropped a revolver in the snow, after shooting him in the back.
The weapon is still there at the foot of a tree...
with the murderer's fingerprints on it.
I can't agree with this part of your interpretation...
for the good reason that the weapon is now in my hand.
I imagined something like this might happen...
when I made the slip about knowing Edwardes.
That started your agile young mind going.
You were having a breakdown...
In a state of panic you heard that Edwardes was to take your place.
So you sought him out in the restaurant...
where he was lunching with John Balentine.
You accused him of stealing your job. You threatened to kill him.
He calmed you down and told you he was going skiing.
You followed him there, and shot him from behind a tree.
That's enough. Your story is ridiculous.
You'll make a fool of yourself...
a love smitten analyst, playing dream detective.
There'll be no dreams for the police.
They'll find out from the waiters in the 21 Club that you were there...
You'll be identified as the man who had a row with Dr. Edwardes...
There'll be people who saw you on the train to Gabriel Valley.
There'll be no dreams necessary for this case.
I see...
you're an excellent analyst, but a rather stupid woman.
What did you think I'd do when you told me this, congratulate you?
You forget, in your devotion to your patient...
that the punishment for 2 murders is the same as for one.
You're not going to commit a second murder, Dr. Mercheson.
I hadn't planned to, but you're here. You're not leaving.
A man with your intelligence, does not commit a stupid murder.
You're thinking you're not mentally responsible for that other crime...
there were extenuating circumstances in the state of your health...
They'll not execute you for the death of Dr. Edwardes.
You can still live, read, write, research...
even if you are put away.
You're thinking that now, Dr. Mercheson.
If you shoot now, it is deliberate murder...
You'll be tried as a sane murderer...
convicted as a sane man, and killed in the electric chair for your crime.
I'm going to telephone the police, Dr. Mercheson...
And remember what I say...
Any husband of Constance, is a husband of mine.
-Goodbye, good luck. -Goodbye.