Alfred Hitchcock Presents s01e35 Episode Script

Good evening.
And thank you for allowing me to come into your parlor.
It all happened so suddenly.
I was walking along when I heard someone saying: "Knit one, purl one" and I came over to see what she was doing.
The really frightening part is that I forgot my hunting license.
Well, the show must go on even though I may not.
Tonight's entertainment is entitled The Legacy.
Through it you will journey to Palm Beach and rub elbows with the idle rich and members of the international set.
But before we join these useless playboys of a decaying society let us heed the advice of a man who is earnest productive and steadfast.
A pillar of our civilization and the sugar daddy of television: the sponsor.
Palm Beach, where the sun spends the winter and people spend fortunes to be in it and in the society columns.
While walking out to the terrace of my hotel, I was wondering which of the old regulars I would run into first.
Cecilia Smithson or Colonel Blair? I wasn't far from wrong.
I bumped into both of them at the same time.
For heaven's sake! Randy Burnside.
Welcome to Palm Beach.
My dear Cecilia, you are looking simply ravishing.
Oh.
I had my face lifted.
It's still painful when I smile but you know skin stretches like rubber.
You know Colonel Blair? Yes, of course.
How are you, Colonel? Glad to welcome you aboard.
Do you have your boat with you, Colonel? No.
Just my arthritis and a deck of cards.
Sit down, Randy.
I'm sorry, this is Mr.
Randolph Burnside the famous English author.
Irene Cole.
How do you do? How do you do, Mr.
Burnside? I warn you, Irene, he's a very dangerous person.
He pretends he comes to Florida for the sunshine but actually he's gathering material for his next book.
I'm sure I'm safe.
Mr.
Burnside only writes sophisticated stories about fascinating people.
I'm certain you're all safe this season because I've already chosen the subject for my next book.
He's the most fascinating playboy, lover, sportsman.
And does he look like a film star? Is he worth a million? Does he have a title? Is he going to drive in the Sebring sports car races and is he due to arrive tonight? I've been following him from Bombay to Biarritz and let me tell you, he's even more fabulous than his reputation.
Who is this wonderful person? Now, Irene, really, nobody can be this ignorant.
Who else could it be but Prince Burhan? Burhan? He's that prince from India, isn't he? The one who was deposed in the riots two years ago? Yes, that's right.
Madame, may I prepare your salad dressing? No, thank you.
Irene, dear, would you? I'd love to.
Thank you.
Please don't get up.
Irene makes the most delicious dressing.
Is she your new secretary? Randy, don't be silly.
She is Mrs.
Howard Cole.
You mean the Texas-oil Howard Cole? Isn't it unbelievable? Is it my turn? that you're the best mixed-doubles partner I've ever had.
Well, look at Beauty and the Beast.
Obviously, I'm the former.
Randy, this is Howard Cole, Irene's husband, and Miss Donna Dew one of the bright new stars of Hollywood.
Randolph Burnside, the English author.
How do you do? Mr.
Burnside, I'd give my right arm if you'd write me a script.
A film about a girl with one arm.
Sounds like a box-office natural.
Donna, you're on vacation.
How did you make out, dear? With Donna on my side how could we lose? This girl can do anything for my money.
I think you ought to shower and change.
No time for that now.
We're going fishing.
You're ready? I don't know.
The sun's getting awfully strong and I promised my studio I wouldn't get a suntan.
Mr.
Burnside, l- Mmm.
Irene, it's poetry, sheer poetry.
Thank you, Cecilia.
But it's such a perfect day for sailing.
I have a wonderful new cream that'll protect your skin.
All right.
And I'll bring your vitamin pills, too, dear.
Good, take these along, will you, dear? All right.
We'll be at the landing.
Right.
See you later.
I tell you, if your fishing's as good as your tennis game Have you ever seen anything more disgusting? You mean the way the husband carries on? No, the way Irene tolerates it.
Such angelic patience it gives me indigestion.
I must say, it's a bit nauseating.
What else could the poor woman do? After all she knows she's a mousey little thing.
She was lucky to have married all that money and she'll hang on to it.
Marry all that money! Really, Randy, what's happened to your infallible nose? Why Irene is 10 times richer than Howard.
She's even richer than me! She is Ruggles Bottle Cap Empire.
Every time anyone in America opens a bottle Irene makes money.
Then why does she put up with all this? Because, dreary as it sounds, she's in love with him.
Isn't Miss Dew beautiful tonight? My dear, the complete female population of Palm Beach has put on the war paint tonight.
They're all waiting for Prince Burhan to appear and I can hardly wait to see which one will be the lucky winner.
I hope it isn't Miss Dew.
Howard is having such a pleasant time with her.
Darling, really, the way you talk I'd swear you were his mother not his wife.
I just can't convince Cecilia that Howard and I are very happy together.
Most married men develop hobbies.
Some play golf, others collect stamps.
Howard collects beautiful women.
How original of him.
I admit that during the first years of our marriage I used to get upset.
When I realized his flirtations were harmless, I got over it.
I give up.
I think Mrs.
Cole has unusual wisdom for her age.
Thank you, Mr.
Burnside.
Hi.
Colonel, you should be dancing much better for your arthritis.
Wow! Prince Burhan, I'm so glad to see you.
Remember we danced in Acapulco? We must dance again in Acapulco.
Excuse me.
I see a friend.
Burnside, I'm glad to see you.
I had a slight suspicion I would find you here.
The world is getting smaller everyday, Your Highness.
Will you honor us with your company? I hoped you'd ask me.
Prince Burhan.
Cecilia Smithson.
How do you do? Colonel Blair.
How do you do? A little import from Hollywood, Miss Donna Dew.
Hello.
Mr.
Howard Cole.
It's a pleasure.
And Mrs.
Cole.
A chair for His Highness.
The chef has prepared a special dinner for Your Highness.
Thank him for me, but I have had dinner on my plane.
We'll have some champagne.
The same as my friends are having.
Yes, sir.
I hope you win the races at Sebring, Your Highness.
Thank you, Miss Dew.
Did you ship your car ahead? No, it is due to arrive on my boat tomorrow.
I flew here straight from Deauville.
All by yourself? No, Madame Smithson, I brought my co-pilot my staff and two English mechanics.
May I have this dance, Mrs.
Cole? You want to dance with me? If you will do me the honor.
But I haven't danced for years.
I'm a very poor dancer, Your Highness.
This is just a rumba, madame, not a contest.
If you don't mind, Mr.
Cole? Of course not.
Donna, how about a little exercise? His Highness is in a generous mood tonight.
Generous? You mean lavish, my pet.
Do you like sailing? Not really.
I'm a nuisance on a boat.
You play golf? No.
Tennis? No.
You ride the horses? I'm afraid my activities are very limited and ordinary.
I look after my husband and our home in New York I cook, I knit, I read.
But you do eat and walk and talk? Well, yes.
Very well.
We'll lunch tomorrow and after lunch we'll have a walk and while we walk, we'll talk.
All right.
But if you find something more exciting to do, I'll understand.
Well, there goes the daily bouquet.
Five dozen red roses every morning.
Irene's suite must look like a funeral parlor.
The Prince is carrying this joke too far.
This stopped being a joke days ago.
Really? What's the latest explanation? We're back at the mother complex.
Ridiculous! No man dances every dance with his mother, night after night.
Well, it certainly is the most bewildering romance.
A young, rich, handsome prince captivated by a not-so-young and extremely ordinary housewife.
Why, I ask you? Why? Perhaps he's attracted to her.
Poppycock.
Irene's a dear but she couldn't attract a mosquito.
They've achieved one thing, anyway they've made Howard Cole ridiculous.
Morning, everybody.
Hello.
Have I interrupted something? Not at all.
We're just talking about your wife.
You mean the attention she's getting from the fabulous prince.
Aren't you worried? Worried? About what? About what we're saying behind your back.
Of course not.
Irene and I are used to that.
We also understand and trust each other completely.
Excuse me.
Donna is waiting at the tennis court.
There they are.
Make a fist, please.
Burhan.
Your feet are much larger than Howard's.
Must you always bring him into the conversation? He's my husband.
Believe me, if I didn't know it I would never guess it.
Obviously he's the only one in Palm Beach who is not aware of our relationship.
That's because he's the only one who understands it.
I see.
And what, may I ask, is his interpretation? Howard feels that you're fed up with the usual affairs that you're looking for quiet, undemanding company.
How dare he insult you? But it isn't an insult.
It's the only logical explanation.
I must say I was very grateful and relieved to hear it.
Your unexpected attention rather unsettled me, as I'm sure you noticed.
Why should it unsettle you to know that a man is attracted to you? Because I'm not blind.
There are too many mirrors around this place.
I have no idea what you see when you look into a mirror.
I can only tell you what I see when I look at you.
You were attractive to me from the very first moment.
Since then I have had a chance to know you.
Now every time I look at you I see the most wonderful woman I have ever met.
Please.
Burhan, have a heart.
I do.
A heart full of love and desire.
I love you, Irene.
No, Burhan! Stop it.
Love me.
I will make you the happiest woman in the world.
Just think about it.
From where I was sitting it looked like a lovers' quarrel.
Mr.
Burnside, you must help me! You're a writer and you know Burhan.
What's the matter? Has he upset you? No.
It's just that I don't understand him.
It doesn't make sense.
I'm embarrassed to tell you but he says that he's in love with me.
Why should that embarrass you? I'd hoped you'd be honest with me.
Look at me.
I'm ordinary-Iooking I'm over 30, I'm not amusing.
I'm just not the type a prince would fall in love with.
Let me ask you this: Do you get any pleasure out of being with him? That's the disturbing part: I do.
You see, my husband doesn't have much time to spend with me.
Well, then, if I were you, I should simply enjoy the Prince's company and let the devil take the hindmost.
Thank you, Mr.
Burnside.
Burhan was clocked at 136 miles an hour, unofficially of course.
Yes, Irene told me.
I hope he wins the race tomorrow.
It's time for our poker game.
Where's the Prince? Isn't he dancing? No.
They must have gone to get Irene's scarf.
She was getting chilly.
Thank you.
To you.
Good luck to tomorrow's race.
May you return safe and sound.
I've tried my best arguments to talk myself out of loving you.
I couldn't do it.
Let's not start that over again.
We can be good friends.
Friends? No.
You are the only woman I have ever loved.
Burhan, this can't go on.
I just won't listen- I know you love me, too.
But you're just too decent to admit it.
Your husband doesn't love you.
He doesn't need you.
You will divorce him and marry me.
I'm sorry, I've told you all along I'm in love with Howard, I'll never divorce him.
Listen, Irene, if you don't marry me, I will kill myself.
Stop it! You don't know what you're saying.
You have no right to do this to me.
Very well.
May I kiss you goodbye? No, Your Highness.
If you've misunderstood my feelings, I'm very sorry.
But I think it's best if we never see each other again.
We won't.
I know we won't.
I say, forgive the intrusion, my dear prince but Mr.
Cole is looking all over the place for you.
You're supposed to be playing poker with him.
Yes.
Thank you.
Well, what is it this time? He says if I don't leave Howard and marry him he'll kill himself.
He's getting to be a colossal bore! I told him I never want to see him again.
And you were absolutely right.
But suppose he really meant it? What if he really kills himself? I'd never forgive myself.
I'd never get over it.
Irene, remember what you told me yourself.
You're not the type a prince falls madly in love with.
You're just a new kind of challenge for him, and if he'd won you couldn't have hoped to have kept him for very long.
Such a strange man from a strange country.
You know, if I'd met him before I married Howard things might have been different.
Why would he want to drive a racing car on the highway in the middle of the night? He'd been drinking.
He just wanted to cause a sensation.
It was suicide.
Because of Irene, that's ridiculous.
He left her $28,000 worth of roses.
Mr.
Cole, I believe it will be best to go out this way.
The lobby is full of reporters and photographers.
I have a car waiting at the back entrance.
Thank you.
It's very thoughtful of you.
Look at that performance.
The Camille of Palm Beach.
She just wants everyone to think he killed himself because of her.
I hate to disillusion you, ladies but that's exactly what happened.
The Prince told her last night that if she didn't leave her husband and marry him he would kill himself.
I spent the next three months in Jamaica working.
On my way to see my publisher, I stopped off at the scene of the crime.
Hello.
Mr.
Burnside.
You're in Palm Beach in May? I'm just on my way to New York.
I have finished my book on Prince Burhan let me tell you that as a writer I couldn't have hoped for a more startling ending.
Sit down.
Do you really believe that he killed himself because he was in love with Mrs.
Cole? Of course I do, I know he was.
He wasn't in love.
He was bankrupt.
His yacht, his plane, his chateaus: They were all over-mortgaged.
His bill with us is still unpaid.
I don't believe it.
He couldn't have been broke.
I saw him win more than $28,000 the night he killed himself.
What's $28,000 for a man who owes millions? He was a true gambler.
And Mrs.
Irene Cole and her Bottle Cap empire were his last chance.
You mean he was after her money? Yes.
And it's a pity he didn't succeed he was such a charming gentleman.
So when Irene turned him down he took the easy way out.
No.
He didn't take it.
It was provided for him by his mechanic who had the brakes of his racing car disconnected never dreaming that he would want to drive it in the middle of the night.
And it was a bona fide accident? Yes.
But of course these facts were withheld from the press at the request of the Prince's family.
They were anxious to protect the royal reputation.
I know I can count on your discretion.
Don't worry, I'm not going to change my book, and I won't tell a soul.
Except one: Mrs.
Cole.
She's entitled to know.
She must be told she had nothing to do with the Prince's death.
She was so upset because she felt she was to blame.
I'll make a point of going to see her in New York.
How was the flight? Very pleasant.
Thank you.
Good.
Irene will be right here.
We're going to a charity affair and she was late coming home.
How about a drink? Thank you.
She was dreadfully upset after Palm Beach.
Couldn't sleep or eat.
Lost interest in everything and everybody.
I was afraid of that.
But now, thank heavens, she's just beginning to come out of it.
I've succeeded in getting her interested in charity work and civic organizations.
Thank you.
By the way, please don't mention Burhan to her.
You understand.
Of course.
Tell me, have you seen Miss Dew lately? No.
I don't have time for those things anymore.
Between my business and looking after Irene, I have my hands full.
You know, I never realized how much Irene really needs me.
How much she depends on me.
Randy.
I'm so happy to see you.
Irene you look wonderful.
Thank you.
Dear, would you please get my stole? Do you think that will be warm enough, sweetheart? Please, do me a favor.
Wear your coat.
All right, darling.
Howard's been so kind and generous.
He gave me these for our anniversary.
They are magnificent.
But he works too hard.
I begged him to take a couple of weeks off just go to Honolulu by himself but he won't do it.
Why don't you go with him? I'd love to.
But I'm right in the middle of a campaign for my pet charity.
Excuse me.
Hello.
Max.
Yes, I'm interested in helping finance the play.
But first I want you to do something for me.
I want you to audition a young actor named Felix Forrest for the lead.
He's young and very talented, I think.
Good, I'll have him call you.
Bye, dear.
Did you finish your book about Prince Burhan? Yes.
I'm glad you wrote it.
He was strange, passionate man Ionely, misunderstood, a great romanticist.
He should have lived in another century.
Here you are, sweetheart.
Thank you, darling.
You're coming with us of course.
No.
I've got another engagement.
But you said you wanted to tell me something very important.
Did I? I forget what it was.
It can't have been very important.
We'll give you a lift.
There they were, a happy couple and all because they believed that Prince Burhan had killed himself for love of her.
He had given them a precious legacy who was I to rob them of it? Would you have? I suppose you're wondering how I escaped.
Fortunately, my captor dropped a stitch at a crucial moment.
In the event you may have missed a few Freudian overturns of our story I should like to offer a brief explanation.
Irene Cole was a compulsive knitter with a Madame Defarge complex.
Howard Cole was an extrovert, who suffered from a regressive libido an Oedipus complex, schizophrenia and an extremely low sales resistance.
Prince Burhan's sports car was obviously the symbol for his mother.
He always wanted to drive her mad and the accident wasn't caused by defective brakes at all.
The automobile was psychosomatic it has since undergone analysis and is now well-adjusted.
I hope this makes everything clear.
And now before I return my sponsor will indulge in a bit of symbolism of his own.
For which I can offer no explanation.
I hope you enjoyed that, I know Freud would have.
Join us again next week when we shall be back with another story.
Good night.