Dead of Night Page #10

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You mean that half the time

Frere was Frere

and the other half

he was his dummy?

Exactly.

And in the end, the dummy got

the upper hand entirely.

But how did the dummy get from one

room to another? Under its own steam?

Without knowing what he was doing,

Frere took it himself.

Impelled by the dominating

Hugo half of his mind.

That is the scientific explanation.

But, no doubt, you people would

prefer a more colourful one.

That Hugo had become endowed

with an existence of his own.

Drink? Oh, I'm awfully sorry.

Blimey, George is dying on us.

It's... started.

It's all right.

Nothing's started. No one's dying.

George isn't a man,

it's Foley's power plant.

They make their own electricity.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

- We're your friends.

- We want to help you.

None of you can help me.

I must be left alone

with Dr Van Straaten. Please.

Perhaps that's best.

Grainger, would you be kind enough

to fetch my spare glasses from my room?

- I'm lost without them.

- Yes. OK, Doctor.

And now, Craig...

I accept your dream.

Now my task is to listen

and yours to talk.

Just let your thoughts run on.

Speak them aloud.

Say everything that is in your mind.

If only I'd left here

when I wanted to,

when I still had a will of my own.

You tried to stop me.

You wouldn't have done if you'd known.

You have not told me yet what it is

that you are compelled to do, Craig.

To kill someone, someone

who's never done me any harm.

Who wishes me nothing but good.

A man without defence,

because he's lost in the dark.

Oh, Doctor... why did you

have to break your glasses?

'Got to hide. Hide.'

Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop!

- Let's play another game.

- Yes, hide-and-seek.

- Who's to hide?

- I'll hide, I'll hide.

Yes, Mr Craig'll hide! Mr Craig'll hide!

One, two, three, four, five, six...

- Peter!

- Something gone wrong with your plans?

Please, Peter, let me hide

in the room in the mirror.

Room in the mirror?

...thirty, forty, fifty, sixty,

seventy, eighty, ninety, hundred!

Jimmy, I've got him!

Here he is, up in the lumber room,

up in the lumber room!

Take a seat, sucker.

What's biting you, sucker?

He looks kind of sick to me, Hugo.

- Well, why don't he see a doctor?

- Maybe he has seen a doctor.

My, my, Hugo, we've never played

to a murderer before, have we?

Why, no, Kee.

Is there a policeman in the house?

Just room for one more inside, sir.

No! No! No!

Wouldn't I?

Darling, whatever's the matter?

- Another nightmare.

- You poor sweet.

Hello?

Oh, just a minute.

Darling...

Walter Craig speaking.

Darling, you're on my feet.

Oh? Bill put you on to me?

That's fine.

- What name is it?

- Eliot Foley.

F-O-L-E-Y.

- Yes, and the place is Pilgrim's Farm.

- Right.

- Who was it?

- A friend of Bill's.

Wants me to go down for the weekend.

A reconstruction job.

An old farmhouse in Kent.

Eliot Foley... Pilgrim's Farm...

I wonder why that sounds so familiar.

A weekend in the country?

I should go.

I'll toss for it.

Heads I go. Tails I don't.

- Heads.

- I go.

That's just what you need, darling.

It'll help you get rid

of those horrible nightmares.

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