Alfred Hitchcock Presents s01e24 Episode Script

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Hollywood.
I think everyone enjoys a nice murder provided he is not the victim.
Tonight's little comedy of bad manners is concerned with that dream of all of us who harbor homicidal tendencies: The perfect murder.
Of course, to be serious for a moment there is no such thing as a nice murder or a perfect murder.
It is always a sordid, despicable business.
Especially if you don't have a good lawyer.
We had gathered to hear the lawyer read my uncle's will.
Ernestine was present.
She had cooked for my aunt and uncle as long as I can remember.
There was my wife, Marie and myself my brother, Paul and there was Aunt Rosalie.
"I leave my entire estate to my dear and devoted wife, Rosalie Tallendier.
"She knows my wishes concerning certain bequests I wish to make to our church.
"To the convent of St.
Anne, I bequeath the sum of 3,000 francs.
"And to my cook, Ernestine, I give 1,000 francs.
"Upon the death of my wife, the income from my estate shall be" Excuse me.
"the income from my estate shall be divided equally between my two nephews "Paul and Henri Tallendier.
" How's that, pretty lady? Be quiet, you pest.
We're gonna be rich.
Don't you understand, Henri? Rich.
How much do you think we shall have? Apiece? Of course, apiece.
Uncle Jean had that much? That tight-fisted old pig saved every penny.
Paul.
Why do you say "Paul"? You oughtn't to speak of the dead like that.
Forgive me.
I forgot you had such delicate feelings.
It was very kind of him to remember us at all.
After all, we weren't very good to the old man.
You depress me.
This is a time for rejoicing.
When the old lady dies, it will all be ours, don't you understand? Yours and mine.
Too late for me, Paul.
Now what does that mean? I'm at the end of my rope.
We're swamped with bills, Marie and I.
We owe everybody.
Our creditors won't wait.
Yesterday the landlord said- You want to borrow money again, is that it? Well, you have only yourself to look after.
I've got my wife, four little ones.
Portrait of the happy married man.
Well, here's 50 francs, and that's all.
I'm down to my last sou myself.
Don't ask me again.
Thank you, Paul.
Don't worry.
I'll get it back when you get your inheritance.
Why don't we drink to our Aunt Rosalie? To wish the dear old lady Godspeed into the next world.
You don't drink to that? No, I don't.
Yes, yes, yes.
I've heard the same story for as long as I've known you.
What do you do with all your money? My job doesn't pay enough.
Get another.
I've tried.
You're lazy.
I work from morning till night.
There are four little ones at home.
That's none of my affair.
That's all I have to say to you.
Aunt Rosalie, I only want to borrow a little money, on my inheritance.
Your inheritance.
So that's it.
You wish me dead.
No, no.
You dream of me lying in my coffin.
I can see it in your eyes.
You're just waiting.
Well, you will have a long time waiting, nephew.
You're heartless, Aunt Rosalie.
But strong as an ox.
I shall outlive both my nephews.
I am determined to do that.
And the convent will get my money.
Not you, nor your wife nor your children.
Now, get out.
Do you hear? What a coincidence.
You, too.
Am I to be plagued to my grave by both of you? I just came to see how you were feeling, Aunt Rosalie.
As if you care.
Well, I have a mild interest.
My life doesn't interest you.
But my death.
That is worth a fortune to you.
That interests you.
My dear aunt, you're a hard one.
And you, dear nephew, are so tender-hearted.
That's right.
That makes two of a kind.
That's better.
We understand one another.
As for my health- Yes? It's excellent, unfortunately for you.
Now what do you want? Money? I've got plenty of money, thank you.
What a liar you are.
You probably haven't more than two sous in your pocket right now.
Less.
How's that, pretty lady? How's that? Be quiet, you silly bird.
How do you live? Why don't you get a job? I can't keep a job.
Well, you'll get no sympathy from me.
Good day.
I'm not very well.
My dizziness keeps coming back.
That's why I can't keep a job.
What dizziness? The doctor calls it anemia.
You gad about too much and don't eat enough.
I ought to have someone to look after me.
Maybe so.
But you've come to the wrong house.
Now you get out, too.
Very well.
Aunt Rosalie.
What's the matter with you? Ernestine.
Ernestine! Mon Dieu, is he dead? Turn him over, idiot, turn him over.
Poor boy.
How pale he looks.
I'll get Dr.
Poncet.
Never mind.
It's only a dizzy spell.
It'll pass.
Loosen his collar and let him rest there.
The scoundrel's grown thin.
Poor boy, madame.
He needs looking after.
Madame, if he were here in the house, you could look after him.
After all, he's your nephew.
If you've nothing brighter to say go back to your pots and pans.
But, madame, if Monsieur Paul were here, you'd have company.
You wouldn't be so lonely.
Who knows? Perhaps that's true.
Well, there's no harm in letting him stay the night, anyway.
Give him a good dinner.
Yes, I'll do that.
Paul remained with Aunt Rosalie for weeks.
She seemed to enjoy his company.
She even seemed delighted by his audacity.
And the weeks stretched into months.
He had nothing to worry about now.
He was taken care of.
He could wait.
Good morning, my little pudding.
Monsieur Paul, it's a lovely day.
Where is my aunt? She's in the garden with Dr.
Poncet.
She's sunning herself.
She certainly takes good care of herself, doesn't she? And that pleases you, I know.
Immensely.
That looks good.
Mmm.
By the way, what are we having for dinner tonight? What does your heart desire? Well It's such a pleasure to be able to cook with enthusiasm again.
My talents are wasted on your aunt's meager diet.
Always the same.
Fish or soufflé, day after day.
Fish Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.
Eggs Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
What do I care? I eat so well, I should think my Aunt Rosalie would die of envy if nothing else.
Well, I look forward to luncheon.
Remarkable.
The pulse of a girl of 20.
I think, your nephew has an excellent effect on your health, Madame Tallendier.
He's a rascal.
And I don't trust him from here to there.
Besides, he eats me out of house and home.
But he plays a good game of dominoes.
Good morning, Dr.
Poncet.
Good morning, Aunt Rosalie.
Don't we look wonderful this morning.
Liar.
I ache and creak in every bone.
Here, here.
What have we here? Cover up, cover up.
Now there's a devoted nephew for you.
We got to keep you nice and cozy, don't we? Stop fussing.
But he obviously likes taking care of you.
You just run along, Dr.
Poncet.
Very well.
Goodbye, Madame Tallendier.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, Paul.
Goodbye, Dr.
Poncet.
He thinks I'm going to leave him something when I die.
But I won't.
Not a cent.
You're a mean old buzzard, aren't you? And you? You're just a vulture waiting to close in.
You don't fool me.
Well, we'll go for a little walk.
Come, haul me up.
What if I were to let you fall now? What do you mean? You'd fall now and crack your skull, wouldn't you? Pull me up, Paul! Pull me up.
Stop playing, Paul.
I'm slipping! I wouldn't let you go for anything in the world, don't you know that? What a rascal you are.
Henri.
What on earth are you doing in this house at this hour? I need money, I'm desperate.
I'm going to pawn this silver frame.
How dare you? Have you forgotten that I'm a guest here? What fine sentiments you've developed, brother.
You can afford them, now you're eating well.
Now listen to me.
Unless the laws of nature have been repealed she can't go on like this much longer, now, can she? She seems to be.
Will you listen to reason? Only today, she complained of a pain in the back.
Paul, I cannot wait any longer.
What do you want me to do? Kill her? I don't deny that I haven't thought of it before.
I get so bored in this house.
Waiting, waiting.
And she gets healthier every day.
I'm feel like I'm trapped.
Man has the right to help nature along.
I mean if it gets stubborn, don't you think? What do you mean? Away with all obstacles.
Let life move on.
I'm only saying she's had enough.
It's our turn now.
Yes.
This is no place to talk.
Now if you can scrape together a few sous we can meet tomorrow morning at the Cafe Marais and talk things over.
I'll manage.
Let's say tomorrow morning at 11:00.
At 11:00.
Henri, just smell that honeysuckle.
Look.
There's a blossom.
It's withered.
I despise decaying things, don't you? Good night, Henri.
Paul, we are here to talk serious business.
Don't ruffle your feathers.
Just being in a cafe again gives me hope.
Now what dreary subject were we talking about? Oh, yes.
My indestructible aunt.
There goes that delightful Mademoiselle de Chenier.
Paul.
Paul.
How are we going to get rid of Aunt Rosalie? With dispatch.
Yes.
But, by what means? Well, there are all sorts of methods.
The open window, for example.
Push her out? How crude you are.
No.
A cold draft properly placed when a person's sleeping can do wonders.
All sorts of lovely complications can develop like influenza, pneumonia.
Yes.
That's an excellent idea.
But she might recover.
Doctors are very efficient these days.
It's most annoying.
Suppose Aunt Rosalie were to slip and break her neck.
Just a little.
A fall down the stairs, doesn't that appeal to you? I don't know.
But, you know, she might regain consciousness and tell.
That wouldn't do, would it? We can't have- Be quiet, Paul! Come on, let's get out of here.
The best approach may be the gastronomical one.
How do you mean? The way to our heart's desire may be through Aunt Rosalie's stomach.
You mean to poison her food? You talk like some medieval murderer.
But that is what you meant.
I know it is.
Poison, who said anything about poison? I didn't, did I? No.
Ground glass.
Finely ground, to a powder.
You don't have to use Baccarat, any ordinary wine glass would do.
Now, sometime this morning, when your wife is out- I am to do this? Brother, you must contribute something.
This is a mutual enterprise, for the benefit of us both.
Paul, I'm frightened.
Now, Henri, you run along and commit your little deed and I shall be waiting for you here.
Well, hurry.
Henri.
Finely ground.
Peppery.
This is the life I was born to lead.
I feel it in my bones.
I read it in the stars.
No, my good man.
Leave the bottle here.
Oh, no.
My aunt will pay for it in her good time.
Not that she has much time.
Henri, my dear brother.
Come.
Let us celebrate our future.
Rejoice, rejoice.
Paul, you're drunk.
You idiot, you're frightened of your own shadow.
All right, all right, but look.
The ingredient.
The ingredient? The ingredient.
With which to season the soufflé.
Yes.
Last night she had fish.
Tonight, she'll have soufflé with this added ingredient.
It will be an ambrosia, fit for the angels.
And when Aunt Rosalie tastes it she'll become one of them.
For heaven's sake, Paul, be quiet! Quiet.
I will not, of course, be home for dinner.
At breakfast, or possibly before Ernestine will bring me the good news.
You'll let me know at once.
At once.
Let you know what? That everything has gone well.
I'll telephone you here tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock.
Thank you, Paul.
And for your help I thank you.
Have you seen my nephew? Perhaps he went for a walk.
To work up an appetite for lunch, you mean? He ordered duck.
What has his majesty commanded for dinner? He won't be here for dinner tonight.
He has to see someone about a job.
Which he is certain not to get.
Madame tonight, you will have to eat your dinner alone, as in the old days.
But for lunch, I want you to be very jolly.
I have a nice bottle of wine.
He'll guzzle it down, that oaf.
But, madame, you must admit, it's been lively since Monsieur Paul came here.
And you, look at you, you're blooming.
Blooming.
Like the century plant.
And that dress.
You haven't worn that dress since the wedding of the mayor's daughter.
Why shouldn't I wear it? The mourning period's over.
I'm sure he'll like you in that dress, too, madame.
You're a fool, Ernestine.
Perhaps I am one, too.
No more, Paul, no more.
Come now, wine is good for the blood.
Dr.
Poncet said only half a glass.
I'm dizzy.
It won't hurt you.
Please.
Well, just a little, this makes my third, or is it my fourth glass? Two, my dear, two.
Well, then pour on.
You know, there'll be a surprise for your dinner tonight.
A surprise? What is it? It has a new name.
It's called "Soufflé à la glace.
" Soufflé à la glace.
Will it taste any different with a new name? No, I'm afraid not.
That same old egg dish, you mean.
I wouldn't dream of upsetting the Queen's menu? How's that, pretty lady? I think I'll go and take a nap.
Hold fast, old girl.
Hold fast.
Sweet dreams, my love.
My love.
So, it's you, all spruced up, and your poor aunt sick.
You were very naughty giving her so much wine.
She'll survive the wine.
Nothing like that would kill her.
Ernestine! Ernestine! My smelling salts.
I'm coming.
Now you know Dr.
Poncet wouldn't approve of your drinking so much wine.
Get out.
Look at you, fit as a fiddle.
I feel terrible.
It will pass.
Soon you'll feel nothing.
I'm sorry that you have to have dinner alone.
Run along, run along.
I'll see you tomorrow.
Goodbye Aunt Rosalie.
How can I describe that agony of waiting? I thought I'd go mad.
Paul said he would telephone me at 10.
:00 to give me the good news.
Ten o'clock came and it went, and 11 o'clock.
By noon, I was frantic.
But then suddenly Telephone, monsieur.
Hello? Yes, yes.
What? Yes, I'll be there right away.
Yes.
Immediately.
How can I explain it to you? Yesterday, your aunt was ill all afternoon.
She had drunk too much wine.
Well, at dinner time, I said that it was an egg night.
She flew into a rage, she insisted that it was a fish night.
I had to put the egg mixture away.
Naturally, I couldn't waste it.
I never throw out anything.
It was no use to argue with her, so I fried her a little fish.
Isn't that so, madame? I shouldn't have drunk all that wine, but the dear boy insisted.
After her dinner, madame went straight to bed.
We didn't hear Monsieur Paul come in at all.
In the morning, she whipped up those eggs into an omelet for him.
I was still upstairs in bed.
He ate heartily, he always did.
But in a little while- Don't tell me any more.
He died in agony, poor dear.
His last words were "omelette à la glace.
" It was a joke we had.
Paul did complain of dizzy spells but I never took it seriously.
We're waiting for Dr.
Poncet to tell us the exact cause of death.
You are my sole heir now, Henri.
Everything will go to you.
You're all the family I have left.
We must try to be closer, Henri.
This must have been a terrible shock for you.
You look quite worn out.
Ernestine, get the dear boy something to eat.
Something light, an omelet, perhaps.
No! No! I always said he was an odd one.
So different from his dear brother.
As for the eventual outcome of tonight's crime the case was later re-opened and Henri, arrested and convicted of violating The Pure Food and Drug Act.
He had used an inferior grade of glass.
We shall have our next performance of another play one week from tonight.
Oh, yes.
Normally, I detest sentimentality.
But I must leave you with this little thought for the day: Never turn your back on a friend.
Good night.