923 - January 6, 1970

[bunniefuu]

[mysterious whistling music]

VOICEOVER:A full moon shines over Collinwood,

a moon which has caused the wolf that walks like a man,

to k*ll an aged painter.

And his death has caused Olivia Corey to admit

that she is actually Amanda Harris.

Kept young by a mysterious stranger so that she could find

her great love, Quentin Collins.

The stranger warned her that if she failed,

the next time she saw him would be the day of her death.

[knocking]

Grant.

Hello Amanda, remember me?

I hope you're ready.

[dramatic horn music]

[mysterious whistling music]

Don't you remember me, Miss Harris?

Oh, come now.

Miss Harris.

You can't take me right now.

But you've had such a long and glamorous life,

Miss Harris.

Or would you rather me call you Miss Corey?

You've done astonishingly well.

I'm rather proud of myself.

After all, I was the first to recognize that lovely quality

that made you a star.

You've got to give me more time!

Why is no one willing to ever just simply come with me?

Because you're Death.

You are Death.

You listened to me once, you've got to listen to me again.

I found Quentin!

Then why are you so afraid, of me?

I promised you that if you found him and he shared your love

you would be happy forever.

But he doesn't know me.

He lost his memory.

Are you making this up, Miss Harris?

Oh no, you see, before I found him, he was in an accident.

He has no idea who he is.

Well, he's in the next room.

Well, I found him at last!

But he doesn't know you.

When am I going to die?

Tell me!

Are you positive you want to know?

Some people find it most disconcerting.

AMANDA: Yes I do, I want to know.

I'm most punctilious.

I drove that beast in the woods away from you earlier,

because your time had not yet come.

As of now, you have four minutes.

Quentin!

Quentin!

Oh, he's not there.

He's not there.

I don't know where he is.

Well, there's nothing I can do.

There's just nothing I can do.

You can hope he comes in remembering.

Every picture of Quentin is gone.

Who took them from these albums?

I must find one.

Surely, if Grant Douglas sees a picture he will remember.

Quentin at the picnic, .

Why are the pictures missing?

Who has them?

I must find out for Amanda's sake as well as his.

MAN: Miss Harris.

Wait, wait, I hear someone coming.

The time.

Well, it might be him.

Just let me see, please, let me see.

[crying]

How much more time would you want?

Well, that's a stupid question.

Proves how easily I am moved.

Perhaps it's simply you.

Perhaps I wish I were that man you stand waiting for.

Could you give me more time?

MAN: Yes, you will have seven days, Miss Harris.

Seven days.

And if, at the end of them,

Quentin Collins has not professed his love,

I shall be moved no more.

You can be sure of that.

[mysterious music]

[knocking]

VOICEOVER:Let me in!

Sabrina!

The moon, the moon!

What are you doing here?

SABRINA: You must come.

Come where?

Sabrina, what's wrong?

SABRINA: You must see.

See what?

SABRINA: Come, come.

Sabrina, I'm going to call the rest home.

No!

Sabrina, you've run away, let me help you.

You must come with me, please.

Don't ask, just come.

Alright, I'll come.

If I do, you must do as I tell you later.

Will you, Sabrina?

Will you?

You must come and see!

You must see!

Seven days.

We will make his memory come back.

We haven't yet.

Oh, he'll never remember.

We mustn't waste time.

Where are you going?

To find the one thing that will make Quentin remember.

What is this place?

Who does it belong to?

Sabrina, surely you can tell me that?

Sabrina?

Who lives here?

No one now.

Sabrina, why have you brought me here?

A man was m*rder*d in this room.

Tonight.

m*rder*d?

Here?

SABRINA: Just as the moon started to rise.

Who was m*rder*d?

A man named Monroe.

A painter.

Sabrina, I don't wanna stay here.

You must.

Why, what is any of this to do with me?

Don't you know?

Can't you even guess?

No, no I can't.

Sabrina, I'm sorry if this man was a friend of yours.

I wish I had known him.

But if you didn't, what are we doing here?

I would've told him.

Told him what?

Sabrina, you came here for a purpose.

Now, I want to know what that purpose is.

Shh!

Sabrina, what do you know about this m*rder?

How do you know about it?

Do you feel him?

In this room?

I do.

[howling]

- Listen, - It's a dog.

No, no!

Sabrina, we're getting out of here.

Not until--

Until what?

Not until you--

[door creaking]

What was that?

Sabrina?

Who is it, who is it?

Carolyn!

Julia!

Oh, thank God.

What are you doing here?

She's here because she knows.

Sabrina.

She's here because she knows.

I knew the first time I saw her.

She knows, she's always known.

Sabrina.

You're here to find him.

You're helping him.

You are hiding him.

I know it, I know it!

You've known!

Now, you tell her you know

because I don't want to tell her.

You tell her!

Julia!

Take her back to Collinwood.

Go on, Carolyn.

Come with me, Sabrina.

Come on.

[crying]

Sabrina, Sabrina, you can't do anything here.

Now, take her to Collinwood and call the rest home,

and they'll come for her.

CAROLYN: Come on, Sabrina.

Sabrina, Sabrina, try not to be upset.

Do you understand?

Dear sir, for many years I've been trying

to find a large tape canvas,

which disappeared following a fire

at the turn of the century.

Just before the fire in his studio,

he painted over Quentin's portrait.

The painting was titled A View of South Wales.

It is of paramount importance that I find the painting.

Would you kindly check your records and see if your gallery

has had the painting at any time?

If so, would you kindly advise me who the purchaser was?

Money is no object.

I must have the painting to complete

my Charles Delaware Tate collection.

Very truly yours, Harrison Monroe.

A View of South Wales.

Somewhere in this room, there must be an answer to this.

Where, where?

Sabrina, I don't want to upset you any more,

but I must try to make some sense of all this.

The last time we were together, you warned me about Chris.

You said he would k*ll me.

Isn't that right, Sabrina?

Did Chris k*ll that man tonight?

Is that why you took me there?

Sabrina.

Not, not Chris.

Not Chris.

But...

But what?

Tell me about Chris.

Please, Sabrina.

You love Chris.

No, I don't know that I ever did.

I know now that I never will.

Believe me.

But you love him.

Yes, I love him still.

[crying]

And here's a copy of the bill, dated July th, ,

from the Manics Gallery in New York.

A View of South Wales was sold to a Mr. Schuyler Rumson,

Little Windward Island, Maine.

Quentin's portrait is miles away.

Oh, you don't know it's Quentin.

Well, it has to be.

Why would Tate have sent out all those form letters

to all those galleries?

Schuyler Rumson is in New York.

You know him?

Know him?

He's famous.

The publisher.

I've tried to call him.

He and his wife will be at the island tomorrow,

and I will be there, too.

Rumson, here.

Ogalde?

Yes, yes.

No, we'll want the plane here Sunday night, seven sharp.

Have a helicopter waiting at Kennedy to take us

into the airport, into the city.

No, Mrs. Rumson's not going on

to Washington with me, unfortunately.

Cancel all appointments next weekend.

We're coming back here.

Don't give me arguments, Ogalde!

Do it!

Sorry, Doctor--

Hoffman.

It's kind of you to let me intrude.

SCHUYLER: Don't know how you ever found us.

Few people do.

Well, there is a reason.

If it's business, call my office in the city any weekday.

If you're soliciting for a charity,

get in touch with my executive secretary.

Well, it's about a painting you own,

a Charles Delaware Tate.

A View From South Wales?

Is it here?

Could I see it?

Doctor Hoffman, you're something new for me.

You drive miles, hire a launch, just to see a painting?

JULIA: It's most important.

You must be a true art lover.

There it is.

It's the right size.

But how can I tell if there's anything beneath it?

I must get it to Professor Osmond.

You look as if you're angry with it.

No, no, it's beautiful.

You're lying now.

I have a gift.

I know when people lie.

It's not even a particularly good painting.

Well, it's one of his later ones, I'm sure.

I wonder, Mr. Rumson, if you would let me borrow it

to show in a collection I'm arranging.

Who do I have to talk to about that?

Well, not my secretary and not my lawyer.

Someone much more important, my wife.

It's her favorite.

Lord knows why.

She has exquisite taste in everything else.

Could I speak with her?

In about seven and a half minutes.

We flew up in separate planes.

Hated to do it, but I was breaking

one of my own rules in having a conference here earlier.

Would you mind if I waited?

SCHUYLER: Well--

You, you obviously would.

Tonight's our anniversary.

Six months married.

How bout that?

JULIA: Would five minutes really matter so much?

Five minutes always matters.

But you are here, and if I don't have to entertain you.

Sorry Doctor, that's rude.

The truth is I have some business calls.

I want to get them over before she comes.

There are some other pictures here

you might be interested in seeing,

including one of Mrs. Rumson,

the most beautiful of all, of course.

SCHUYLER: That's her.

That's my Angelique.

[myseterious whistling music]