Irma La Douce Page #8

but they were just stalled.

- All they needed was a little push.

- A push.

I mean, mentally.

To stimulate their imagination.

- It's all up here, you know.

- I wish it were.

I had one patient given up as hopeless...

...until I started telling him

about the South Seas.

The South Seas? What a curious gambit.

It worked.

- Lie down.

- I beg your pardon?

Stretch out, relax.

Close your eyes. I mean, your eye.

- No tricks now.

- I promise.

You're in Tahiti. All right?

Tahiti? Yes, I've been there

with Captain Bligh.

Mutiny on the Bounty! Ha-ha!

Down, Lord.

Now concentrate.

Palm trees swaying in the breeze...

...a smell of ripe papayas...

...a blue lagoon, white sand,

golden-skinned girls.

Have you got that?

Blue lagoon, white sand, golden skin.

- They're beautiful, aren't they?

- Are they ever. Oh...

How many do you see?

14, to be exact. They're wearing

grass skirts and coconut shells.

- No, they're not.

- They're not?

They're wearing sarongs

and hibiscus blossoms in their hair.

Oh?

Yes, by George, you're right.

Now they take off their sarongs, and they

start washing them in the blue lagoon.

Indeed. They...

Look, it's no use. I mean,

I really am out of gas, uh, petrol.

The tank is completely dry.

All right, let's forget Tahiti. Lie back.

- You're in Baghdad.

- Baghdad! Now how did I get there?

Shh.

You're in a bazaar.

You see an exotic woman,

with a veil across her face.

Big, black, almond eyes.

She winks at you. You follow her.

She disappears into a palace.

There are two Nubian slaves standing

guard, so you climb over the wall.

- How high?

- Ten feet.

- I'll never make it.

- Try, you must try.

I'm trying. Ow! Broken glass on the top.

- Are you over?

- Just barely.

Good.

Now you're inside the harem.

You're lying on silk pillows.

Odalisques are fanning you.

They're feeding you grapes...

...painting your toenails...

...while she does

the dance of the seven veils.

She takes off... the fourth veil...

...the fifth...

...the sixth...

You will be gentle, won't you?

Your Lordship!

Are you all right, Your Lordship?

I will be, as soon as I pull myself together.

You know, I think Lady X

must have been out of her mind.

With you in the house, why would

she go puttering around in the garden?

How kind of you to say so.

What time does our plane

leave for London?

- Eight o'clock.

- Oh.

I'd better go home and pack.

Look, I'm afraid I can't take you

to my castle in Worcestershire.

- Why not?

- Because...

...I don't have a castle

in Worcestershire.

Of course not, it's in Yorkshire.

Quite, but... what I mean to say...

...I haven't been entirely frank

with you, my dear Irma.

- You haven't?

- For instance, what I told you about...

...unicorns. There are no unicorns.

So what?

So she'll play with the peacocks. And

don't worry about the servant problem.

I'll cook for you, I'll serve you tea

in the afternoon, I'll knit you sweaters.

I can be ready in 20 minutes.

I'll meet you at the bistro across

the street, Chez Moustache, all right?

Hey, are you there?

- Your Lordship?

- Yes, I'm there.

I mean, I'm here.

And I'll be there. The bistro.

Oh, and one more thing.

Keep away from Nestor. He's vicious.

They don't call him Tiger for nothing.

I say there, this is a bit of a jolly surprise.

- What'll it be, Your Lordship?

- Don't mention that swine.

Do you know what they've been

doing in that hotel room?

Shattered man, my eye!

And now they're running off to England -

Irma and the lord.

She's packing.

She's going to walk out on me.

- Nestor.

- He's taking her to his bloody castle.

She's gonna make tea for him,

knit him sweaters.

- You're talking crazy.

- They won't get away with it.

I'll tear him apart.

I'll... throw him in the Seine.

Nestor.

There is no lord.

- There isn't?

- That's right.

How do you like that phoney?

He's been lying to her.

What do you mean "he"?

There is no "he" - it's you!

Of course it's me, but she doesn't

know that. And she doesn't know I know.

But I know that she likes him

better than she likes me.

See?

She wouldn't even

take any money from him.

- I think you'd better have a drink.

- The world isn't big enough for two of us.

Lord X is gonna walk down

the street and disappear for ever.

- Nobody's ever gonna see him again.

- I didn't want to see him in the first place.

- Get my other clothes from the cellar.

- Coming up.

Somebody oughta warn him. He shouldn't

flash all that money around here.

- He's liable to get hit over the head.

- Are you gonna warn him?

Me? It's none of my business.

In a way, I'm going to miss you,

Your Lordship.

Pull yourself together, old chap, hm?

Stiff upper lip and all that. Cheerio.

One more for the road.

Jojo, have you got

your blackjack on you?

Sorry. How about some brass knuckles?

Goodbye, Your bloody Lordship!

I hate to see you go,

but c'est la vie, old chap!

I hope you float back to England...

...and I hope the fish

eat your bloody liver!

Hey, police! Police!

What's the time, Moustache?

- Five after eight.

- Sure your watch isn't fast?

Maybe, or maybe whoever

you're waiting for is slow.

Here you are. Tomorrow at this time you'll

be chasing peacocks across the lawn.

- Where are you going, anyway?

- I'm going to visit my aunt.

She lives in Brussels.

That's Belgium, you know.

Used to be a concert pianist,

but runs an orphanage now.

Oh, come on, Irma, you can do

better than that. Is that seat taken?

- Yes.

- Caf au lait and a croissant.

That aunt, could it be she has a beard and

an eye patch and her name is Lord X?

If that's who you're waiting for,

he's not gonna show up.

Can't I sit here without

being annoyed by riffraff?

We get all kinds. Just a while ago,

we had a real live English lord in here.

- He was here?

- Left about an hour ago.

- Did he say where he was going?

- No. No message, no nothing.

I saw him walkin' down

the street toward the river.

But we have a date here.

Maybe he forgot.

Maybe he changed his mind.

He'll come for me. He's a gentleman.

Gentleman? Don't make me laugh.

- You know nothing about men.

- I know nothing about men?

And you know why?

Because you've been with too many.

- Thanks a lot.

- You think you're such an expert on love.

You can't even tell

when somebody loves you!

- Like who?

- Like me.

Like hell. You only love

that 500 francs twice a week.

What do I have to do to prove it to you?

Nestor Patou, I arrest you

for the murder of Lord X.

- What? The murder of who?

- You recognise these clothes?

That's his umbrella and his eye patch

and his solitaire card.

- Thank you.

- Where's the lord?

- At the bottom of the Seine.

- Oh, no!

That's a lot of nonsense.

There is no Lord X.

Of course there isn't,

because you killed him.

I saw the whole thing.

He beat him up, stole his wallet...

...threw his body in the river.

Oh!

Irma, I... Wait a minute.

Moustache, tell 'em.

Yes, that's the lord's!

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