02x32 - The Hands of Mr. Ottermole

[bunniefuu]

Good evening.

I hope you'll excuse me

for not being ready
at show time

but my watch is slow.

As a matter of fact,
it hasn't even
gotten here yet.

First, I would like to
announce a change
in our program.

Shakespeare's Hamlet
will not be presented tonight.

We don't feel it suitable
to show in the home.

All those corpses, you know.

Instead, we're offering
a story entitled

"The Hands of Mr. Ottermole."

Most of our stories
have taken place
in the United States

or one of the other colonies.

But tonight we offer
a new locale.

"The Hands of Mr. Ottermole"

is laid in a far-off land
of mystery and enchantment.

England.

And now suppose
you continue squinting

at this little screen

while I slip into something
more uncomfortable.

No, thank you.

Well, here I am.

Is that you, Herbert?

Well, now,

who did you think it was,
your gentleman friend?

Oh, Herbert!

Kippers.

You know, I've been having
a discussion with myself

all the way home.

"Wonder what
she's got for tea." I said,

"Haddock or herring.

"I bet its haddock,
but I hope not."

Kippers would be
just the thing
on a night like this.

Well, all right, then.

Your slippers
are in here waiting for you.

Now, that's a blessing.
My feet are k*lling me.

Half a mo'.
There's someone at the door.

Oh, hello!
Won't you come in?

We're just going to sit down
for tea.

We're going to have kippers,
you know.

Herbert?

Here! I said stop it!

Ain't it terrible?
Both of them...

Here, let me...
...and not a single witness.

Let me see,
can't you.

Now then, now then, now then,
keep back, everybody.

Outside the house, now.
Petersen! Petersen.

Now, you have to
keep it quiet. Come on.

Outside, outside.

Come on, get back there.

I don't know you!

Mr. Whybrow's nephew
from down the way.

Oh, all right,
come in, come in.

Come on, come on, come on.
Go on home, go on home.

Well, now,

you say
you're his nephew.

Yes, I live
down the road a piece.

Who did it?

Well, now, we don't know
about that as yet.

I'm finished here, Sarge.

I searched the back premises,
nothing there. Not a trace.

All right. See if
you can find anyone nearby

who saw anything
or heard anything unusual.

Right-o!

Now, come on.
Get back.

What happened?

They were strangled,
we know that much.

But as to who did it,

that's something else again.

I was passing nearby
and I saw the door open.

So I looked in
and there they were,

just like that.
Dead.

And not a few minutes
before I found them either.

But no sign of who did it,

and no sign of a struggle
or anything like that.

Would your uncle
keep any sums of money
about the place?

Or anything
of value like?

Not that I know of.

I'm sure that he didn't have
no sums of money
to amount to much.

I could swear to that.

Very well.

Would you take
a look about the place,

see if there's
anything missing?

Or anything at all
out of the way?

You know,
not like it ought to be.

Yes, all right.

Well, you didn't hear
anything at all in here?

Did you hear him come home
or go into his house?

Call out to anybody?

No sound of a struggle?
Nothing at all, eh?

No, not a thing.

Me and the missus
was in the back, you see,

having our tea.

Say, what kind of a chap
was he?

Did you know him
at all well?

Lived next door to him
for five years now.

Very quiet,
dependable sort of fellow.

Everybody liked him.

Mmm-hmm.

Can't find a thing
in the house that don't look
everyday and proper.

Not anywhere at all.

Well, I didn't think
you would.

There weren't any
fingerprints, were there?

No. Not a sign.

Ah, that'll be
the ambulance.

Why would anyone
want to k*ll him?

There's just
no reason to it.

Oh, there's a reason
all right. Must be.

They're dead,
aren't they?

Sergeant, remember me?
I'm from The Guardian,
I'd like to...

How did you get here
so quickly?

I live around here.
But what I'd like
to know is...

Sorry no time for the press
just at present, Sir.

You'll have to
wait a bit.

Now, now. Now then,
stand back.

I am sorry, gentleman,

that is all the information
we have for you
just at present.

You've read the papers,
I suppose?

Yes, I have.

It's kicked up
an awful stir.

The senseless wantonness
of these killings

has everybody
talking about them.

I've been told
to stick with this story
till it's solved.

So have I.

So you better produce
some results, eh, Sergeant.

You've made no progress
so far.

What we might know

and what we're able
to tell you
are two different things.

However, you may say

that we expect to have
something definite...

To report
at an early date.

No, I'm afraid
the public won't accept that
in this case, Sergeant.

Now, see here,
this only happened
the night before last.

You can't expect us
to nab the man instantly

when he left
no clues at all.

So you have made
no progress then?

Now, wait a minute,
I didn't say that.

I didn't say that at all.

You're twisting my words.

Buy a flower.

Buy a flower
for your young lady, Sir,

I ain't sold none
all day.

All right.

Nearly closing time, Ben.

You were a bit late
last night,

we can't have that,
you know.

Don't worry, Sarge.
We ride in the dark tonight.

Last call for drinks.

Well, call that fair?

I don't.
I don't call that fair.

After all,
we've only had four days.

These things can't be done
overnight, you know.

That's an editorial,
old boy.

No good to complain
to me about it.

I just have to turn in
a story each day.

And you must confess,

you haven't given me
very much to turn in so far.

You or Scotland Yard.

Now, look here,
you can't expect us

to tell you
every move we make,
you know.

Then the criminal would know
what we're doing, too,
wouldn't he?

Come on now, Sergeant,
we're talking about progress

and you can't report
anything

because you haven't
made any. Have you?

Time, gentleman.
Please drink up and pay up.
All out.

By the way,

I find it remarkable

how you gentleman
of the press

arrived at the spot
so quickly.

Well, I'm a roving reporter
now and I...

That's where I happened to be
roving at the time.

Good night, Sergeant.

Good night.

Time's up.

All right.

Buy a flower
for the young lady, sir?

Good evening, Sir.

It's been a long day.

Business ain't been so good.

And I was having
a bit of a rest

Good morning, Sergeant.
Have you seen The Guardian?

No, and I don't want to.
Thank you very much.

So,

you've made no progress

with the old
flower woman either.

Mr. Summers,
how about
a cup of tea?

Thanks. A little sugar
if you please.

You know, I had a theory
about this at the start.

The Whybrows, that is.

Since it seemed like
there was no reason

for k*lling them
at all,

I thought maybe

the reason why there seemed
to be no reason

was because
there isn't any reason.

You see
what I mean?

He made a mistake,

thought he was k*lling
somebody else,

went to
the wrong house
or something.

Eh, Sarge?

Well, of course
it's no good now.

He wouldn't make
two mistakes.

And now we've got
two sets of k*lling

and no reason at all.

Doesn't seem to make sense
somehow.

Wonder what the motive
could be?

Maybe there wasn't any.

Oh, there was
a motive all right.

You can count on that.

There has to be a motive,
you know.

No, no. No.

There've been crimes,
murders,

without motives before.

Oh, come now,
you don't mean
no motive at all?

That's right, there have.
Neil Cream for one.

And William Palmer
for another, eh, Sergeant?

That's right.
He was another.

I say,

if you're up against a man
like that, you're in real
trouble, aren't you?

Never know where
he'll strike next or when.

Or what he's like
or anything.

Let's visualize a man.

He appears ordinary,

but yet he isn't.

Nothing so old-fashioned
as a conscience bothers him,

yet he has three murders
to his credit.

And I'm sure
he's sitting somewhere now

calmly drinking a cup of tea,
just as we are

and smiling to himself

because the police
are such fools.

He's got something
to smile about
and that's a fact.

But he isn't an Englishman.
He's a foreigner.

They're all around
this district, you know.

Why not an Englishman?

'Cause we British
haven't got the nature
for a thing like that.

Nor the talent
for it either.

One of these
foreign johnnies.

They know tricks that
we've never even heard of

and wouldn't practice
if we had.

Well, whoever he is
and wherever he's from,

he's a man to reckon with.

There's no escaping that.

You can't admire him
certainly.

But you have to admit
he's clever.

Do you realize
what he's done?

Yes.

He strangled three helpless,
innocent people, that's what.

Oh, it's much more
than that.

Have you been around
this district lately?

The people only talk
about one subject.

The children aren't allowed
to play in the streets.

Women do their shopping
before dark

and bolt their windows
and doors at night.

They watch anxiously
for their husbands' return
from work.

Men eye each other,

even familiar faces,
and think, "It might be him."

This one man

with a pair of hands

has terrified
this whole community

and made them realize

that the laws are powerful

only so long
as they are obeyed.

The police are potent
so long as they are feared.

You seem so positive

we're dealing
with just one man.

Would you say
there were two men, Sergeant,

like that?

Two men in the same place
and at the same time?

No, I'll own
it seems unlikely.

That's right.
This is a singular man.

A man who comes along
once in a lifetime probably.

This one man
with one pair of hands

has held
the entire police force
and Scotland Yard helpless

with nowhere to turn.

Aye, he's done that.
Part of it, at least.

But as for
having us powerless,
with nowhere to turn,

that's something else
again.

It is?

You have your informers out,
I'm sure,

in the pubs
and the tea rooms.

But aside from that,

what have you done?
What can you do?

He's made some mistake
somewhere.

Or he'll make one.
You can bank on that.

And we'll be watching,
never fear.

Maybe he won't, though.
What then?

He will.
They always do.

Hmm, but they don't.
Now that's the thing.

What about Dr. Crippen?
And George Joseph Smith?

You've heard of them,
Sergeant?

Aye, I have.

Well, those people k*lled
and were discovered
only years afterwards

by accident
or belated confession.

Now, there must be
many others who have
never been discovered.

Now, you say the m*rder*r
is always caught

because all the ones
we know of have been caught.

But think of the others.

The ones
we don't know about yet.

You seem to have made
a great study of crime,
Mr. Newspaperman.

I have.
Tell me, Sergeant,

in your professional opinion,

do you really believe
you can catch this man

if he doesn't want you to?

Oh, aye. We'll catch him.
Because we have to.

We've doubled our force
the day after
the first m*rder.

And now we have four men
where we usually have one.

We are just hoping
he will try again.

If he does,
we've got him.

I see. Of course,

he might try somewhere else
the next time.

You can't have quadrupled
your force
throughout the entire city.

That's true.

But he might just be
the type of man
who would like

to show us he could k*ll again
beneath our noses

and still get away
with it.

Hmm?

Bye for now.

Good day.

Well, hello there, Jimmy.
Would you like to go across?

Right then,
here we go.

Here we are.

Now, up.

Well?

Not a thing.

Keep a sharp lookout
every second.

That's what it takes,
you know.

Can't let up
because we've had
four days with nothing new.

I only spoke to Petersen.
It was : by my watch.

And you found him
at : .

That's when
you blew your whistle.

What happened?
Another one?

Yes. Got one
of their own men this time.

It's Petersen.
I can't believe it.

Johnson, take over.

Make way.
Make way, now.

You heard nothing?

You saw no sign
of anybody at all?

Nobody. Nobody.
Not a blinking soul.

Except Jimmy,
the blind bootblack.

But it can't be him.

There wasn't a sound
or a movement on this street
as I came along it.

Nothing, until...

But it must have happened
right under your nose, man.

Not seconds
after you left him.

What's the matter
with you?

I don't know.
I don't know.

Blimey, Sarge,
he must live hereabouts.

That's certain.
But where?

Where? Nobody saw,
nobody heard, nothing.

All right.
You and the others spread out.

Search all the buildings
on both sides of the street.

Question everybody.

Pull them out of bed
if need be.

Look into cupboards
and behind curtains.

Don't accept excuses.

Here we are, Sir.

Thank you, Ben.

Things have come
to a pretty pass
and no mistake.

When a man or woman
walks out alone these days,

does nothing less than
take his life in his hands,
and that's the truth.

They'll catch him soon.
Any time now.

What makes you so certain?

When a man can kills you
or me, that's one thing.

But when
a copper gets k*lled,

that's another story.

Then all the other coppers
realize maybe they're next.

They won't rest till
the m*rder*r is caught. See?

What will you have, sir?

Same as usual.

All right.

Don't even know
what this creature is.

Man, beast or devil.

Well, I know
I shan't run out alone again.

He's mad.
Unbalanced somehow.

Don't you agree?

Possibly.
Probably.

But there's something else
about this.

Something obvious.

Something right
in front of us.

You see,
when there's something
right before our eyes,

we don't stop to ask
how it got there.

Like the ham in that sandwich.
It's just there.

We don't think of it
at all.

Much less stop to say,
"How did it get there?"

How did it get there,
by the by?

Well, somebody put it there,
I dare say.

Yes. That's right.

Somebody did.

Sergeant?

Is that you, Sergeant?

Oh, it's you.

Yes.

Well, seen anything
of the m*rder*r?

No, nor has anybody else.
I doubt if they ever will.

Oh, I don't know.

I've been thinking about it
and an idea came to me
just now.

Oh, really?

Yes. Came to me
all of a sudden,
just a little while ago.

Made me feel
as though we've been blind.

It's been staring us
in the face.

Oh, has it?

Well, if you're so sure,

why not give us
the benefit of this idea?

I'm going to.

We were talking
in the bar now

about things that are
staring us in the face.

Things that we don't think
about to question.

Like the ham in a sandwich,
you know.

We never wonder
how it got there.

But somebody said,
"Well, if it's there,

"somebody must have
put it there."

And that was it.

Now, if four people
have been m*rder*d,

somebody must have been there
to m*rder them, you see.

Well, of course
someone was there.

We all know that.

Question is, who?

Yes. The answer seems
so simple now.

But there's one thing
I don't understand.

One little thing
I'd like to clear up.

I mean, the motive.

As man to man,

tell me,
Sergeant Ottermole,

just why did you k*ll
those inoffensive people?

Well, to tell you the truth,
Mr. Newspaperman,

I don't know.

In fact, I've been worried
about it myself.

But, I've got an idea,
just like you.

Everybody knows
we can't control

the workings
of our minds, don't they?

Ideas come
without our asking.

But everybody's supposed
to be able to control

the workings of his body.

Why?

Our arms, our legs, our heads,
aren't completely ours.

We don't make them.

And couldn't ideas come
into our limbs,

just like ideas come
into our minds?

Huh?

Couldn't ideas live
in nerve and muscle

as well as in the brain?

And couldn't it be
that parts of our bodies

aren't really us?

And ideas could come
into those parts

all of a sudden

like ideas come into

my hands?

Are you all right?

Are you all right?

Yes.

I never saw anything so quick
or anyone so strong.

I thought I was done for,
for a moment.

I know. We were following
as close as we dared.

It's a good thing
we got the constable here
in time.

The sergeant.
I can't believe it.

His hands
were like iron.

Yes, his hands.

Did you hear what he said
about his hands?

He said ideas came
into his hands.

He must have been insane.

Yes

I suppose so.

Ow! Stop it!
Stop it!

I'll tie it myself.

It won't take long.

I'm sure I'll be ready
by next week's show.

And you be ready, too.