High Wall Page #4

Many things.

So far, I have not

been able to determine

whether he's doing it

deliberately or not.

He's consistently refused

consent to narcosynthesis.

Ann, everything you say supports

the district attorney's contention.

He refuses narcosynthesis because he

knows the drug will force him to tell us

the thing he's trying

to conceal.

He deliberately planned to murder

his wife and plead temporary insanity.

Now let's have

the patient in.

You may go in now, Mr. Kenet.

Good morning.

Sit down, Mr. Kenet.

Thank you.

We've had you in for

a few routine questions.

Let's have them,

Doctor.

Prior to your operation here,

you suffered lapses of memory.

You haven't filled in

those gaps yet, have you?

I don't know whether I have or not.

Is it that you can't remember,

or you don't want to remember?

Look, Doctor, I've regained

my health and my sanity,

thanks

to you people.

There's only one more

thing you can do for me-

turn me

over for trial.

I see you refuse to

submit to narcosynthesis.

Yes, sir.

There's

nothing to fear.

It's merely a mild

injection of sodium pentothol

to stimulate your memory.

Don't you think it would be helpful

to fill in those memory lapses?

Helpful to whom?

I'm sorry, Doctor. That's

the way I'd prefer it.

That's my legal

right, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

But tell us, Mr. Kenet,

why are you so intent

upon an immediate trial?

Well, I thought it out

this way. Guilty or not,

I'll be out of here and

able to handle my finances

and provide

for my son's future.

That's the only

important thing.

Do you love your son

a great deal?

Yes, sir.

Would you like to see him?

Can I?

When can I see him?

Right now, Mr. Kenet.

He's in there.

No, he isn't there. This is just

a trick, a test to see what I'd do.

He's in there, Mr. Kenet.

Why did you bring him here?

What kind of

a place is this anyway?

You can't push people

around like this!

What kind

of Doctors are you?!

No. I'm sorry.

I didn't mean it.

It's just that I...

Well, you understand.

It's better

if I don't see him.

I wouldn't know

how to explain to him.

You see, he's only 6.

Excuse me, please.

Doctor, they won't

give me anything to eat.

I must speak to you privately, Doctor.

Doctor, has the board reached

a decision about me yet?

You'll be leaving

here presently, Mr. Kenet.

I know you, Dr. poward.

I know you.

Won't you make

them give me back my eroica?

When am I going

to leave, Doctor? Today?

No. Not that soon.

There's still some tests to make.

What's the delay?

Mr. Kenet, there are 2,500

patients in this institution

and only 12 Doctors.

Dr. lorrison will get

around to you in due time.

How are my

brain waves, Josephine?

Oh, just fine.

How much longer is this

going to take, Doctor?

These tests

may seem routine,

but they are necessary

to complete my report.

Don't be impatient.

Another 3 or 4 days.

3 or 4 days. For what?

Ever since the operation,

there's been no question about

me mentally or physically.

Except for those

memory lapses, Mr. Kenet.

Nobody expects me

to remember things

that happened when I was out

of my mind. No mind, no memory.

That's going to be your

line of defense, isn't it?

Well, memory of things

that happened before surgery

could be a liability.

Sit down, Mr. Kenet. We're

going to record muscular control

and neuromuscular

coordination.

Hold these, please. Try to

keep the pressure the same.

You grip, relax.

Grip, relax. Ready?

First the left hand.

Grip, relax.

Grip, relax.

All right, now the right one, please.

Grip, relax.

Good. Now both hands.

Grip, relax.

Grip... what's the matter, Mr. Kenet?

Something seems to be

disturbing you. What is it?

I don't know.

Is something bothering you?

Could it happen in a single second?

What, Mr. Kenet?

Could you strangle someone

in just one second?

Boy.

Elevator boy.

Coming.

Oh, cronner.

Glad

to see you back.

You've been sick,

haven't you?

My arthritis.

Flat on my back

for over 3 weeks.

That was your secretary who got

herself murdered by her husband,

wasn't it, Mr. Whitcombe?

Oh, terrible thing.

You know, that happened

the same night I got sick.

I recognized your pictures

in the newspapers.

I even read all about how you

told the police she worked for you

and what

a fine woman she was.

Yes.

Could

we start up now?

When I got up this

morning, I said to myself,

"I'm going to ask

Mr. Whitcombe's advice."

What is it, cronner?

My Doctor said to me,

"Henry, you're never

going to get better

"in those drafty halls

and in that elevator.

"What you need

is Florida or California,

warm sand

and plenty of sunshine."

I says, "that takes money,

lots of money."

This is my floor.

The advice I wanted to ask

you, Mr. Whitcombe, is this:

Do you think I ought

to go to the police?

The police

for your arthritis?

Mr. Whitcombe, I'm a man

who knows things,

not only what it says in the

papers, but what it doesn't say.

But at the same time,

I'm a man who says that

one hand washes the other.

That's why I thought

you ought to know

what the Doctor said to me

about going to Florida.

Cronner, the penalty for

blackmail in this state

is very severe.

This is my floor.

I said,

this is my floor.

Which is my visitor?

That little guy over there.

Remember me, Mr. Kenet?

Henry cronner-

the janitor at 106 maple.

Yes.

You know, you and me

have a lot in common-

you facing

the electric chair

and my arthritis

killing me.

Just what do you want,

Mr. Cronner?

Me? I don't want

nothing but justice.

I followed your whole

case in the papers,

and, you know,

they never

mentioned anything

about the three of you

being in the apartment.

You're interested, huh?

I might be.

What have you got?

Uh-uh.

Like my arthritis,

everything costs money, Mr. Kenet.

You know the old saying-

one hand washes the other.

I'm not permitted to handle

my own money at present,

but I'll

be out of here

and in the county jail in a few days.

All right.

Wait a minute. Can't you just

tell me what it's all about?

If I tell you,

I won't have it anymore.

See you in the county jail,

Mr. Kenet.

Come on, partner.

Delaney, could you get

Dr. lorrison for me?

I'd like to see her

right away.

It's Wednesday,

her day off.

Leave a message to see me

first thing in the morning.

Take it easy, pal.

Tomorrow's Thursday.

She'll be at the children's

clinic until 3:
00.

All right, as soon

as she gets here.

Cronner...

Oh, good evening, Mr. Whitcombe.

Good evening.

I've been thinking about the

problem of your arthritis.

I'm going to make you a

loan of a few hundred dollars

to take you

to Florida.

I shall want you to

pay me back, of course,

but at

your convenience.

We can't cure anything for a few

hundred dollars, Mr. Whitcombe.

Arthritis is something you

can't get rid of quick or cheap.

Some people understand,

like the fella I met

over in the nuthouse today.

He's doing fine now.

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