02x03 - The Savage Curse

[bunniefuu]

(orchestral music)

(man snoring)

- Let me out.

Let me out!

No. No! Let me out!

Please let me out! Let me out!

(theme music)

- [Tape] A beautiful village.

A kind of English Shangri-la
man could get lost in forever.

I got a room at the
village inn, the Columbine.

There's a sign over the inn.

A painting of a girl
dressed as a columbine.

Her face is haunting. It's
obviously a very old painting.

I wonder who she was.

By the way, the inn
serves the best

bitter beer I've tasted
in this country.

(orchestral music)

(cash register ringing)

(patrons murmuring)

- [Innkeep] Well, good morning,
sir. What can I get ya?

- I'd like a room if
you've got one.

- [Innkeep] Oh, I think
we might manage that.

How long would you be
wanting it for, sir?

- Oh, a few days I imagine.

- [Innkeep] Righty-o.

Why, Jenny.

Show this gentleman up to
number three, will you please?

- Alright, this way, sir.

(orchestral music)

- [Jenny] I'll bring the
money back for you, sir.

- [Man] Yeah, that's alright.

- Everything alright, sir?

- Yes, fine, thank you.
- Good.

- Anything I can get ya, sir?

- Yes, I'd like a glass
of your bitter beer.

- Certainly. Would you like
a half pint or a pint, sir?

- Oh, a pint, I think.

My grandfather always told me,

"never do anything
good by halves."

- So, you've heard all
about our beer, have ya?

- No, it's just that
I'm an optimist.

- Aye, Jack's pints are
a bit optimistic, too.

Just you wait 'til the
froth gone down

on that one and see how
much you got left.

- I'll put less froth on my beer

when you put more cream
in your milk, Bill Gurney.

- To tell you the truth,
gentlemen, I like the froth.

- So do we, but we'll never do

to let old Jack
Woodridge know that.

American are you?

- Yes. Robert McCabe.
Mind if I sit down?

- Make yourself at home.

(men yelling)

- Not there, though, if
you pardon us.

That's old Fred's chair.
- Fred?

- The local handyman, rat
catcher, jack-of-all-trades.

Pretty fair poacher, too!

But don't say
nothing about that.

- If he found anyone
sitting in his chair

he'd think the end of the
world had come.

- He did find someone,
mind, a few months back.

Another American
gentleman like yourself.

Though I'm afraid he
didn't start

from the back of the bunk
as you all over again!

- An American you said?

- [Bill] That's right. Jim
Starling. Came from Chicago.

Very fond of him we were.

- Someone else was very
fond of him, too.

- Hey, can I get you another,
sir?

- I'm fine, thank you.
Who's that?

Ms. Dominie, up at the manor.

- [Patron] Donny Lansford,
Jonathon Lansford's niece.

You can just see the
manor from here.

- [Bill] Their family goes
back centuries.

Mr. Jonathon owns
everything around here

as far as the eye can see.

- As far as the eye can see.

- A genuine English squire, huh?

- Well, not exactly.
But I'll tell ya this,

he behaves more like
one than if he was one.

- What do you mean?

- Well, it's like this, see.

Lansford family's got
roots here and Bavaria.

- Lots of intermarrying.
Combining fortresses.

- So, you get half and half!

- And when Ms.
Dominie's father died,

and her father--

- He gets the other half,
the German half.

Not English at all.

- Jonathon Lansford?

- Ah, it used to be Johann.

- [Patron] They changed
it to Jonathon.

- Yeah, that's right,
he's a foreigner.

- Yes, but he's a nice enough
chap mind, just the same!

(patrons talk overlapping)

- This other American, Jim,
uh...

- [Patron] Stone.
- Stone!

Did he stay up at the house?

- Oh, no. But he might as
well have done,

he was up there that often.

(patrons laughing)

- There was a time when
we all thought

Jim Stone would be
settling down here.

- Either that or she'd be off

to America with him riding off.

- What happened?

- Come along, now, time
gentlemen, please.

Let's have your
glasses or we shall

have the law down on us.

- Get away, we've
time for another.

- You certainly have not,
I've got

my license to think about.

Sir, I wonder if
you'd mind signing

the register while
you're about it.

- Nice to talk to you.

- [Group] Nice to talk to you,
sir.

- Hey, what was all that about?

Since when did you keep
licensing hours?

- You know perfectly
well that Mr. Lansford does

not like his private affairs
discussed with strangers.

(unsettling music)

- [Tape] I'm beginning to regret

the time I spent vacationing
in the rest of Europe

when all the time
Dominie was here,

kind of waiting for me.

The face of her ancestor
looking down from the inside.

I can't bear to think that
I might not have come here.

Never have met her. Strange,
isn't it?

The ways we meet our fate.

And this is my fate, I've...
I feel it.

That's the end of this tape.

I'm sending it to you
by the afternoon mail.

(unsettling music)

- I should say it does work!

My old uncle was using it until

the day he died last year.

Do you know with his
powder flask,

and a few rounds of ball shot,

well, he could pick the
legs off a fly.

(patrons laughing)

You ask ol' Fred there.

- [Robert] Fred?

Fred with the chair?

- The very same, sir.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

- They tell me one of
my countrymen

nearly started a w*r in here.

- How's that, sir?

- When he sat in your chair.

- Oh that, oh yes. Yes indeed.

He did make up for it, though.

- Oh, let me get you a beer.

- Oh, that's very kind
of you, sir. Thank you.

Now that's better. That is much
better. Isn't it? Isn't it?

Sally me ol' girl.

I caught her in one of
my traps once.

And look at her, she looked
at me so old fashioned

I did not have the
heart to k*ll her.

Go on in home, there's a girl.

Now then, what was that
you were saying, sir,

about your American friend?

- Oh, he wasn't a friend,
I didn't know him.

But they tell me he was
very popular.

- Very popular he was, I
don't remember

any other stranger that was ever

invited so often up
to the manor.

- Fred!

- Are you on business
in these parts, are you?

- No, I'm a painter. Sort of.

I'd love to see the
inside of that house.

- Get another?
- Yeah. Excuse us.

- I'm afraid you will
never manage that, sir.

- Why not?

Put that on my bill, please.
- Yes, certainly, sir.

- Thank you. Why not?

- Because you won't be
invited. That's why.

Mr. Lansford was close
enough before,

but he's been washy ever
since the American went.

And yet nowadays he
don't see nobody.

No more than Ms. Dominie.

And yet it used to be
such a fine old household,

always full of people
and parties.

- Why did it change?

Nobody knows. It seems in a way

as if a great kind of
sorrow fell on that house,

when Mr. Lansford became
responsible for Ms. Dominie,

that was after her parents died.

- This Mr. Uh...
- Lansford.

- Lansford. What's he like?

- He's a scholar and
a gentleman.

He owns the family
bank in the city,

but he spends most of
his time in the estate,

just runs it like it
were a business.

- Is he married?

- Divorced.

Yeah, he's got plenty of
money, yes, Mr. Jonathon.

But he don't have much luck.

Even his blessed rats are bigger

and stronger than anyone else's.

- His rats?

- I'll put that one on
your bill as well, sir.

- Thank you.
- Oh, thank you, sir.

Yes, well, you see, sir.

I am by way of being unofficial
rat catcher in these parts.

Well it'll be about
six months ago,

he asked me to come
up to the manor

and set some chain traps
in the cellar.

I did, and it worked,
too, 'cause Ms. Dominie

told me the rats had all
been disposed of.

And she said, "I wouldn't
be wanted no more."

- So?
- Well.

One of my little moonlight
walks about two months ago,

I heard them chains
still rattlin'.

- Well it was, they reset the
trap and it was a new rat.

Don't you think?

- Evening, Fred.
- Good evening, Ben.

If you don't mind I'll just
say goodnight to you then, sir.

- Finish your beer!

- No, no, thank you very kindly,
sir,

I'll just be saying good
evening to you, sir!

- Who's that?
- That's Ben Kroom.

Been with Mr.
Jonathon for years.

He's Mr. Jonathon's game keeper.

- And old Fred's the
local poacher.

(Robert laughing)
- I see.

(orchestral music)

My arm, some barbed wire,
I wondered if I could--

- I'm sorry, there's nobody
here who can help you.

- But my arm, it's--

- You better go to the
doctor in the village.

- Who is it, Ms. Faversham?

- It's just a stranger, Ms.
Dominie,

it's nothing for you
to worry about.

- It's alright. Sorry
to have bothered you.

- Heavens, that looks alarming.

You'd better sit down.

Ms. Haversham, some water,
and antiseptic, and a bandage.

How did it happen?

- I got careless with
some barbed wire.

On the stairs just
now you looked

at me as though you knew me.

- How could I?

There. Thankfully it
wasn't your painting arm.

- You'd make a good nurse.

- I used to think I'd
like to be a surgeon.

Strange, isn't it? How few
women surgeons there are?

- Yes.

What a fantastic atmosphere.
The tone of the whole thing!

I mean the color top.
The paints are talking.

Could I use it?
- What?

- This room? It'd make a great
background for a painting.

From here.

No.

From here, yes. Yes,
you get the full depth,

fading away to
mysterious shadows,

and you, there, in
the foreground.

You would have to be the
centerpiece, of course.

The room is beautiful but
it's nothing without you.

I'll make it noon with
the sun streaming in,

yes, catching your hair,
standing just like that!

Maybe with a book in your hand
sort of brooding. Enigmatic.

- They're Jonathon's.

First editions, mostly,
and all Edgar Allan Poe.

Jonathon says he's still
an underestimated writer.

What do you think?
- I never read him.

- Not even "The Pit and
the Pendulum?"

- I don't get much time for
reading. Any reading at all.

- Then why don't you take
your education in hat?

- Maybe you could read
them to me in the cellars.

For atmosphere.

- No. Jonathon
wouldn't allow that.

But you can come and
paint if you like.

I'm sure Jonathon couldn't
object to that.

Tomorrow then?

- Tomorrow. I look
forward to it!

- You shouldn't, you know.
Overdo it.

Mr. Jonathon wouldn't like that.

- Chat with a passing stranger?

Where's the harm in that?

- Oh, it's disturbing
you. Overexciting you.

Look at you, Ms. Dominie,
your cheeks are all flushed.

- A bit of color back in
them, that must be good.

- Well, all the same,
Ms. Dominie, I must--

- You fuss too much.
- I care for you, Ms. Dominie.

I look after you.

- What was he doing here?
- He hurt himself.

- Did she see him?

- It's all right. I was
here most of the time.

- Yeah, well there'll be trouble

when Mr. Jonathon hears
about it, I promise you.

- He's coming again. Tomorrow.

- Oh, no, not if Mr. Jonathon

has anything to do
with it he won't.

- Oh, he'll come. Mr. Jonathon

didn't cross along a
thing like that.

- Can I see?
- No.

Just stand there and
relax. Talk if you want to.

- What about?
- Oh, I don't know.

What do girls
usually talk about?

Boyfriends?
- Don't be boring.

Can you get any of the books in?

- What's boring
about boyfriends?

- Let me see. I want to
see. I insist on seeing!

- It doesn't look like
anything yet!

- It never will look
like anything.

You don't know the first
thing about it!

So what are you playing at?

Why did you say you were an
artist in the first place?

- I needed to get into
this house. Talk to you.

- For heavens' sake why? Why
didn't you just come and call?

- Would I have gotten in?

- No, I suppose not.
Jonathon's very protective.

What was it you wanted
to talk about?

- Jim Stone.

- I don't know what
you're talking about.

- I think you do. I'm
a detective.

Jim Stone disappeared,
I know he was

in this village, and I
know he met you.

- I think you better leave.

It's not a very
pleasant thing to do,

tricking your way into a
private house.

I've never heard of him.

- [Jim] I've found
my Snow White.

Her name is Dominie Lansford.
Wow.

She lives at the big house.

She's like everything
else around here.

- Stop it! Shut it off!

I never want to hear his
voice again! Who are you?

What do you really want?

- I told you. I'm a detective.

But my name's not McCabe,
it's Stone.

The same as my brother.
- Jim Stone is your brother?

- That's what stopped you
yesterday. The likeness.

Jim and I worked together,
our own business.

He was taking a sabbatical
holiday over here,

but he always kept in
touch with me,

let me know where he was.

After he reached this
village the messages stopped.

That was two months ago,
and Jim didn't come home.

You do know him, don't you?
- Yes.

- Why did you say you never
wanted to hear his voice again?

Why?

- Would you say I was pretty,
Mr. Stone? Attractive?

- Yes, I would.

- I'm twenty-two.
Almost twenty-three.

Since I grew up I've had
three serious boyfriends.

I mean ones I really
cared about.

I couldn't hold any of them.

- How do you mean "hold?"

- They all walked out on me.

Walked out of my life,
disappeared.

Have you any idea what
effect that has on one?

- Kids are funny like that.

- Jim Stone wasn't a kid.

I thought he was the one.
I really did.

He was strong. He loved
me. Really loved me.

Or so I thought. I
certainly loved him.

I swore I'd hold onto
him, even if I had to...

- Even if you had to what?

- What is all this?

Kroom tells me you've
undertake by an artist.

You know, if I wanted
a painting of my niece,

I'm quite capable of
commissioning one myself.

Who are you? What on
earth do you want here?

- He's a detective, Jonathon.
He's looking for Jim Stone.

- What do you mean
"looking for him?"

He's back in America, isn't he?

- No, Mr. Lansford, he isn't.

He was last heard of in
this village.

That was two months ago,
since then, nothing.

Ms. Dominie tells me that
he walked out of here,

suddenly, for no reason.

- I didn't say for no reason.

There was a telephone
call from America,

wasn't there, Jonathon?

- Yes. Yes, there was.

- What was the call about?

- I don't know.

- One thing we do know was
evidently about

something more
important than me.

- Mr. Lansford. I'm not
only a detective,

I'm Jim Stone's brother.

There was no phone call
from the states.

- I know.

- But she just said
that there was!

- You have someone
walk out on you

for no reason is one thing, Mr.
Stone.

To have him do it
after a possibly

traumatic telephone call
is quite another.

At least I should imagine
it helps a little.

- You mean she was lying?

- You're a man of plain
judgments, aren't you?

Well, quite conceivably,
Dominie believes it by now.

- I think people know when
they're lying, don't you?

- Not always, Mr. Stone.

Not when the lie eases
the pain of loss.

To quote your own poet,
Edgar Allan Poe.

"With great loss
brings an iciness.

A sinking. A sickening
of the heart."

To relieve it with a
lie is a small offense.

Do you read Poe, Mr. Stone?

- No, I don't.

- It's a most subtle mind.

He stayed here once, you know?
As a child.

I like to think that this
house might have given him

the ideas for some of his
finer stories,

"The Fall of the House
of Usher" for instance.

But no doubt he was told
that the foundations

of this house have been
unstable for centuries.

I perpetuate that he
planted the germ

of the much more perilously
crumbling house of Usher.

It's the part of pain, you know.

- No, I didn't know.

- I don't mean he celebrated
it. He understood its sorrow.

He could forgive anything that
people might do to avoid it.

Yes, he knew all about
the sufferings

of the ultra sensitive.

De Beranger has written
a preface to Usher.

I translate it for you.

"His heart was like a
hanging lute.

The gentlest touch and
it quivered."

Reading him can be
quite a therapy.

I recommended it to Dominie,
but instead

of soothing agitation it
seemed to increase it.

- Mr. Lansford, exactly when did

my brother leave this village?

- I don't know.

I headed off to London on
business for a few days.

When I came back he had gone.

- What you were saying
two nights ago

about rats at the manor.

- Aye, we know all about that,
don't we Sally, me ol' girl?

We know all... Why,
what'd I say about 'em?

- About one of them still
rattling in its chain trap.

- Did I say that?
- Yes, you did!

- Oh, well if you is to ask me,

that might have been no rat.

- What do you mean?

- The noise it was making!

- No, you said it was just
the rattling of the trap!

- I never did.

I never said that it
was just the rattling.

- What else then?
- There were groans.

Weren't there, Sally? Groans.

- You mean human groans?

- Well, I certainly do not
mean there were rats groans.

(laughing) Rats groans.

- What do you think
was making them?

- Oh, now that would be telling.

But it's not from the ol'
eyes sattin' on my set.

Did you know that that
house. It is haunted?

Yes, sir. Did I ever tell
you that house--

- No.

You never did.

(drunken mumbling)

What?

- And that is not the only
thing that I could tell you.

About that house.

- Looks like you'll be
needing that little old

rat of his to take him
home tonight.

- He keeps talking about noises

from the cellar of
the manor house.

Groans or something like that.

- Everybody knows about that.

Why, it's the foundations.

They're not safe, they
haven't been for years.

You know they keep settling,
resettling, complaining like.

- I see.

- [Innkeeper] Come along
there, gentlemen, please.

Come on, Fred, lets be
having those glasses.

Come on, Fred, come on!
Come along!

Jives, gentlemen, please.

Let's bring up your glasses,
please.

(drunken mumbling)

- I heard groans.

- [Jim] I've now met Jonathon
Lansford, Dominie's guardian.

He seems to be trying to tell
me something about Dominie.

Trying to warn me in some way,
but I'm not sure about what.

(orchestral music)

(birds flapping)

(rock landing)

- [Kroom] There's no one
there. You're imagining things.

(trap closing)

It's probably a fox.
I'll set the dogs on it.

Tear it to pieces.

(dog barking)

(dog barking)

(dog growling)

- The rabbits are doing a fierce

amount of damage to
me this year.

- It's not the rabbits I'm
interested in. It's the foxes.

We nearly caught one last night,
you know, but it got away.

Got a sore foot today, I
shouldn't wonder.

(patrons laughing)

Still, we're keeping
the dogs out all night

from now on and I'll be
carrying a g*n myself.

- How do you tackle foxes
in America, Mr. Stone?

- Oh, it's not as easy there,
Mr. Whidden.

Our foxes sh**t back.

(patrons laughing)

- I must speak to you.

- We'd better go to my room.

What was it you wanted
to talk to me about?

- You must leave. Go away today.

- Any particular reason?

- I think I'm... I think
I might get fond of you.

- That sounds like a
good reason for staying.

- Please. I mustn't. I
musn't want you.

It's for your own sake.

- You're mad, bad, and
dangerous to know, is that it?

- Don't joke. I've
decided I must

never want anyone again.
It's the only way.

- The only way to what? Dominie,
you're not making sense.

- Just go, that's all.

- I'll go when I've found out
what happened to my brother.

- You're very like your brother.

I got quite a jolt
when I saw you.

- I got a jolt when I saw you.

(door opening)

- Dominie, I've been
looking all over for you.

If I hadn't seen your
horse outside I would--

You've forgotten, haven't you?

We're lunching with the Ridel's.

- No, Jonathon, I
haven't forgotten.

I'll go back and get changed.

- Goodbye, Mr. Stone.
- Goodbye.

- What did she come to
see you about?

- That's none of your business.

- Oh, please.

- She told me to go away.

- She said that?

- The sooner the better,
she said.

- Than I shall do as she says.

- What do you know about
man traps, Mr. Lansford?

- What kind did you
have in mind, Mr. Stone?

- Fred's late, isn't he?

- Yes. Yes, he is.

Still, the later he is, the
less it'll cost you in drinks.

(patrons laughing)

- I was looking forward to
another of his tall stories.

- Yes, well is there
anything I can get you, sir?

- Yes, a beer, please.
- Right.

- Evening.

What?

You won't tell him, right?
Will you? Huh?

- Where does Fred live?
- Fred?

Well, just down the
village by the pond.

Sir, you've left your drink!

(vacuum cleaning)

- He was a rascal! He was
a proper rascal.

- But you're going to miss him.

- Yes.

- [Jenny] Well, you
couldn't not like him,

the old fella, really.

- [Innkeeper] If he hadn't
had that one drink too many.

- [Jenny] I knew he'd end
up in that pond one day.

- [Innkeeper] He's gonna
be missed, this old Fred.

He's the best rat catcher
this old village ever had.

(suspenful music)

- Rats.

- Hmm. Dry.

- Its never been in the water,
has it?

- Yeah, but Fred always kept
him in his pocket. Always.

- That's another
thing I thought.

Anyway, the police should be
interested. Don't you think?

- Use your phone.

(car zooming)

(car honking)

(cars accelerating)

(cars screeching)

(car honking)

(car skidding)

- Get that inside you.

You know, that was as
pretty a piece

of driving as I've ever seen.

I enjoyed it.
- You enjoyed it?

What the devil were you
trying to do?

- Invite you to a party!
- What?

- I called on you here,
heard you'd driven off,

thought I'd catch you
up. And you turned it

into a most enjoyable race.

Well, I suppose it was
my fault really.

A race or any kind of chAllange
I can never resist it.

- Yesterday you were
asking me to clear off,

today you're inviting
me to a party.

- Ah, correction, yesterday
Dominie was telling you to go,

today I am asking
you to a party.

Well, I do like company.
Occasionally.

- And occasionally you give
sudden impromptu parties?

That alcohol was the
best, don't you think?

And this one promises
to be particular fun.

It's fancy dress. And the
theme? Well, you guess.

Edgar Allan Poe.

- I don't know anything
about him, I told you.

- Oh, well then, come
as anything you like!

Oh, you will come, won't you?

- I'll think about it.

There was a package on
the front seat of my car.

Is it still there?

- Oh, I'm afraid the dog
ran off with it.

- I'm sorry. Was it important?

- Not anymore.
- Oh, good.

I'll see you tonight then.
Nine for nine-thirty.

Perhaps you will come
as one of your

wild American heroes,
what about that? Bye.

- Davy Crockett, king
of the wild frontier.

- You got it in one.

- Now I know why you wanted
to borrow that old hat,

but there's something
missing, though, sir,

just come here a minute.

Look, why don't you try that,
sir? And try the old g*n, too.

- Well, how do I look?

- If I was an apache, sir,
I'd run a mile.

- Hope you have a good time,
sir.

- Thank you.

- Columbine Inn. Yes, he's here.

It's for you, sir. It's Ms.
Dominie.

- Hello?
- You mustn't come tonight.

- Why not?

- I mustn't see you again ever.

(thunder rumbling)

- Good evening, Mr. Stone.

And welcome to the world
of Edgar Allan Poe.

(group laughing)

"Much of madness, and
more of sin,

and horror the soul
of the plot."

I'm afraid Edgar
Allan Poe always

puts it so much better
than anyone else.

With a breath of front
eclectic fresh air draw rebels.

The frontiersman?
Most appropriate.

- What are you supposed to be?

- Oh, I'm Hop-Frog.
- Hop-Frog.

- Oh, sorry, I forgot
you're not an aficionado.

Hop-Frog was the court jester,

who hoisted the king and
his court men,

ironed them, and
burned them alive.

Ah, here we are.

Thank you.

Yes, my other guests, I
fear have the most

regrettable lack of imagination.

They've all decided to come
as the Mask of the Red Death.

The one with the plague,
if you remember.

Oh, sorry, sorry, you
don't remember.

Yes, the plague that
invaded finally

even the sea of the nastetic
road of Prince Prospero.

I suppose if Poe were
writing today he would have

substituted television, hmm?

What a detective.

(Jonathon laughing)

That's all or something.

- Maybe he wouldn't have
written it at all today.

You can't seal
yourself off anymore.

- There's some of my guests who

already know, and
others who don't.

- Evening, Mr. Stone.

- Oh, hello.

- This is the time of masks,
you see.

They lend mystery to even the
most brazen of personalities.

Your own, Mr. Stone.

That's a rather ineffective

disguise in your case,
I'm afraid.

And that costume, well,
you're quite distinctive.

- When was the last time you
threw one of these parties?

- Here's your mask, Mr. Stone.

- I said when was the last time?

- Oh, I throw them
from time to time

when the world gets particularly
boring. Don't you say?

Yes, and here we have
that new voluptuous world

of the fear that--
(thunder rumbling)

Like that.

Murders in the remote.

A little disappointing
that one to hold the storm.

An animal can have no fun.

Without conscience, m*rder
is quite flavorless.

- Are you speaking from theory,
I take it?

- I am really very
sorry we didn't

get acquainted sooner. You
make an amusing companion.

- Where's Dominie?

- Well, you disappoint
me. I was understood

that lovers could
detect each other

even through a lead casket.

- Who said we were lovers?

- Well, you can't help
it with Dominie.

- Dominie?

Dominie?

(Jenny laughing)

- Hello, Mr. Stone.
- Oh, sorry!

I thought you were Dominie.

- You enjoying the party, Mr.
Stone?

- Yes, thank you.

- I told you not to come.

- The last message I got
from my brother

was that he was coming
to a party at this house.

Dominie, the other men
who walked out on you,

did they do it after a
party to you?

(crowd yelling)

- [Jonathon] We come now,
ladies and gentlemen,

to the effects in the
case of Mr. Valdemar,

who you will all
remember was the man

whose mind was kept alive
by a hypnotist

for seven months after
his body had died.

Mr. Valdemar, can you
explain to us

what are you feelings or wishes?

- For gods' sake, put me
to sleep! Or wake me up!

I tell you that I am dead!

(crowd gasping)

- But the hypnotist
you may remember

then made the requisite
mesmetic passes

to release Mr. Valdemar
from his trance.

For what occurred then, however,

as Mr. Poe says, it is
quite impossible

that any human being
could have been prepared.

(crowd gasping)

- Dominie?

(echoing)

Dominie!

- We come now to our
second tumble, Mr. Stone.

- Where's Dominie?

- The title of our second tumble

is "The Cask of Amontillado."

Which you have never read,
either.

Which is a great
fitting for you.

- Your stories bore me, Mr.
Lansford.

- It's a pity, because if
you had read it

you would never have
allowed yourself

to be lured down to the cellars.

- Nobody lured me!

- In the story, Fortunado
was lured down by his enemy

by a request to sample
a fine sherry.

- I don't drink sherry!

- Naturally, the lure
for you was different.

You thought Dominie
would help you

solve the mystery of
your brother.

I can't quite tell you the
way Poe does, of course,

but in the story "The
Cask of Amontillado,"

it begins with Fortunado's
enemy getting him drunk.

- There are two big differences.

I'm not Fortunado and
I'm not drunk.

- No, you're not drunk, Mr.
Stone.

You're drunk with a
refinement of my own.

That second glass of champagne.

Help me with him, and
tell Kroom to get ready.

- I'm sorry, Ms. Dominie,
the champagne's run out.

I'd have fetched some more,

but the cellar door
seems to be locked.

- I'll get you the key.

(crowd murmuring)

(menacing music)

- In the story,
Fortunado pleaded.

The chain is measured
to perfection.

- It won't work. Many
people know I'm here.

- And then Kroom puts on
your hat, jacket, and mask,

a great many people will
see you leave, Mr. Stone.

Or did I forgot to tell you,

to sorry ends of the
victim being bricked in.

Walled up. Alive.

- That's how it was done
with my brother, was it?

- Does nothing ever
that prized in your life

to find that it has been
taken away from you?

A wife. A loving children.
Your brother.

My excellent sister.

Dominie's a progulent prize,
I can't--

I can't ever let anyone
take her away.

- Kroom and Ms. Faversham won't

keep their mouths shut forever.

- I do this to protect
myself and my possessions.

Kroom and Faversham do
it for money.

Oh, the candle, by the way,
some of their refinements.

You can either have the
light or the air.

When it's lit it's burning
up precious oxygen.

Put it out, and you're the dark.

That much sooner.

Goodbye, Mr. Stone.

Forever.

- Ms. Dominie's
bringing the key.

- He's not there, are you
sure the door's locked?

- Well, I thought it was, miss.

- Ah, just what I was
coming for, sir!

- (speaking German) Spread
the good cheer, Woodbridge!

This is a celebration!

- What are we celebrating?

- What do we ever celebrate,
Dominie? Your perfection.

- I was looking for
Robert Stone.

- He must be around somewhere.

- Help!

Help!

- Now, the prisoner had
managed to smear

his bonds with his food,
and while the ax swung

lower and lower, the rats
in his cell were

gnawing away the ropes!

He got free in the nick of time!

But if his bonds had
been of steel.

- Have you seen Robert Stone?

- Mr. Stone? Yes. I saw him
leave a little while back.

- Are you sure?

- There's no mistaking
that outfit of his.

- Where was I?

- I believe you was fiddling
about in that desk over there.

(Robert panting)

(champagne popping)

(crowd laughing)

(expl*si*n)

- Excuse me.

(rubble falling)

You know, it's a curious thing.

I had the distinct feeling
I'd underestimated you.

(g*n firing)

(b*llet ricocheting)

Just a little to the left,
I see.

It takes a slight
direction to the right.

(g*n firing)

- Look out!

(rubble falling)

(glass breaking)

(Dominie screaming)

(crowd screaming)

(crowd coughing)

- Help him! Help him!

(house creaking)

(crowd screaming)

(wall collapsing)

(suspenseful music)