Keeper of the Flame Page #7

I thought we were working together

so that he could go on living...

...long after you and I were forgotten.

That's what you offered me.

What's gone wrong?

That's what I'm asking you.

Isn't that his mother's house?

Yes.

The storm won't hold off much longer.

I'd like you to take me up there.

I'd like to meet her.

I'm going this way.

I wish to see Mrs. Forrest.

- You wish to see Mrs. Forrest?

- Yes.

She's resting.

Uh, you've come to the wrong house.

You know, Mrs. Robert Forrest lives

three or four miles from here.

Yes, I just came from there.

- Mrs. Forrest sent for you?

- Well, in a way, yes.

Well, there's some mistake, sir.

I'll speak to the housekeeper.

Come in quickly

or they'll tell you I'm resting.

Close the door, please. There's a draft.

I hope you'll excuse

my not remembering your name.

Steven O'Malley.

- Mrs. Forrest, you shouldn't be...

- That's enough, Mrs. Taylor.

Mr. O'Malley has come to call on me.

- But, Mrs. Forrest, you shouldn't...

- I'll ring when I want you.

- But, Mrs. Forrest...

- You understand me?

Yes, Mrs. Forrest.

Poor Mrs. Taylor.

She doesn't remember sometimes

that she's only a servant.

- Please, Mr. O'Malley.

- Thank you.

Oh. Oh, thank you.

You're... You're one of Robert's friends?

I'm one of his greatest admirers.

How nice.

- Robert's dead, you know.

- Yes. Yes, I know.

We've had quite a bit of rain lately,

haven't we?

Yes.

I understand there was quite a cloudburst

the night of the...

Uh, the other night.

The other night?

Oh, yes. Yes, you mean the night

Robert was murdered?

Are you one

of Robert's business associates?

Uh, no, no. I'm a writer.

A writer?

How interesting.

Do you write plays?

Well, I have written a couple, yes.

They weren't very successful.

You must write a play about my son.

I want someone to write a play

about my son...

...and tell the truth about his death.

I'll help you.

Well, thank you. That's very nice of you.

I'll go now, Mrs. Forrest.

Sorry I disturbed you.

Oh, no. No, please don't go. I like you.

Where's Robert?

Come in, my dear.

We'll leave now, Mrs. Forrest. Come on.

This was your idea.

Stay and satisfy yourself.

Mr. O'Malley is a writer.

I don't suppose he told you

that he writes for newspapers.

We're going to write a play together.

Aren't we, Mr. O'Malley?

Did he tell you that?

Robert always said

you were a very good actress.

Perhaps we could get her to act

in our play.

We can talk about that later, Mrs. Forrest.

Come on.

Oh, no. No, don't go.

I so seldom get to see anyone.

Christine doesn't want me

to see anyone, do you?

Perhaps we could come back

and see you some other time, Mrs. Forrest.

Are you married, young man?

Robert oughtn't to have married either.

I warned him.

"She'll pull you down," I said.

Tell my son I want to see him.

Robert's gone away on a long trip.

Why didn't you let him say goodbye to me?

He always said goodbye to me.

He'd kiss me and say,

"I'm going to find new worlds, Mother. "

I knew what that meant.

He was like another great man...

...Alexander, he called him.

You're his sort.

You wouldn't let silly women's notions

get in your way.

Most women spoil your life,

pull you down.

That's what I always told my son.

Mr. O'Malley is a stranger.

He doesn't understand.

He ought to know the truth...

...what my son had to fight,

even in his own home.

I like you, young man.

You're not the sniveling,

whining, puppy type...

...like that Midford

that used to cling to Christine's skirts.

Robert hated him too.

Yes, Robert.

I want Robert. I want my son.

Please try to understand.

He's gone away for a long time.

That's Robert.

Setting out for new worlds to conquer.

Mrs. Forrest,

let me help you to your chair.

I was a cook, and I had a son.

Now I've got a bigger house

than the people I used to cook for.

That's what my son did for me.

Big people have big houses...

...and little people work for them.

Yes, Robert, I'm listening.

I was listening the other afternoon,

but she had the telephone.

Why didn't she warn you, Robert?

That's not true.

Somebody warned her.

Even through the thunder,

I heard them say:

"Tell Mr. Forrest the bridge is down. "

But she didn't tell him.

- She didn't tell him.

- I left before the storm broke.

You or Mrs. Taylor must have taken

the message. Anyhow, it was too late.

Was it too late...

...if you'd driven back

the way you always went, over the bridge?

I couldn't. My horse bolted.

Men like Robert aren't killed by accident.

They're stabbed in the back.

Where are you, Robert?

I want... I want my...

I want my son.

See what you've done?

I want my son.

I want my... I want my son. My son.

Will it please your readers to know

that Robert's mother hated his wife?

You can add an insane mother

to your story. Satisfied?

No. In our profession, we cherish

a rather absurd ambition.

- We like to tell the truth.

- No price is too high for a story.

I owe that to people

who read the stuff I write.

But if what you told them

broke their hearts?

I can't be the judge of that. I know my job.

I know I've made a mess of it here...

...not getting what I came after.

I'm not so sure now that I want to get it.

So I'm quitting.

Somebody who doesn't give a hang

about the truth or you will take over.

But there's no one whom I could tolerate.

- Yet all the time, you've tried to mislead me.

- I've tried to give you what you wanted.

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't believe that.

That means I can't believe anything

anymore, my senses or my judgment.

At least we don't need to hurt each other

any more than we've done already.

If you don't mind, I'll ride home alone.

Hi, O'Malley.

How did you get in here?

Influence.

Looking for something?

No, just a hunch.

That's wonderful, Freddie.

- What is it?

- It's the bridge.

What bridge? Where?

Oh. Oh, this bridge, huh?

The question is, was it due

for a crack-up, or not?

Bah.

Don't be silly, Freddie.

You're wasting your time.

This is not your speed.

You're not saying that because I might be

getting close to where the body is buried?

The body is buried just where it should be,

in a hero's grave.

Why don't you let it rest in peace?

Are you speaking for yourself?

Yes, or for anyone else

who might be just looking for a good story.

That sounds pretty dull.

Maybe there's a story in a simple,

honest, clean, home-loving millionairess.

What about the hero's wife?

Well, why don't you leave her

in peace too...

...if her memories will?

Mrs. Forrest?

- Yes.

I'd like a word with you, please.

- What is it?

- I don't like it.

The look on Mr. O'Malley's face.

- Time for action.

- I've taken action.

- What?

- Don't raise your voice. I'm managing this.

It's too important to be managed

by a woman.

If it had been managed by a woman,

this wouldn't have happened.

You're quite right.

I have one request I'd like to make.

I'd like the keys

to Mr. Forrest's filing cabinets.

No.

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