Premature Burial Page #2

I was going to bury him.

Guy.

I was going to bury him...

alive!

Sketching? Out here?

No, not sketching, really.

Making plans.

For the house?

You're very inquisitive.

Well, I'm married now...

and wives are supposed

to be inquisitive.

And husbands are

Supposed to be secretive.

However, I'll tell you

one of my secrets...

a very closely guarded one.

I possess the ability to kiss

a woman without touching her.

Oh, Guy, really.

You don't believe me?

I'll wager you a shilling.

All right.

I'll accept your wager.

Come on. Show me this miracle.

With pleasure.

There you are.

What about your wager?

Oh, I lose the wager.

Here's your shilling.

It was worth much more,

believe me.

Guy.

Yes, dear?

What about our honeymoon?

You promised you'd take me

to Venice, remember?

Aren't you happy here?

Oh, yes, of course...

but, well, you're

on your own so much...

and I worry about you.

You must be patient with me.

All right.

In the meantime...

I'll brighten up

that dreary old house.

There.

Look. Aren't they lovely?

Take them away!

Guy, don't be so ill-tempered.

I can't bear living in

a house without flowers...

and neither should you.

Just throw them away!

I loathe flowers.

You must promise

never to bring...

those sickly funeral

decorations into the house.

Guy, I was only...

You must promise!

All right.

I promise.

Milady?

Yes, Judson.

Dr. Archer has arrived, milady.

Oh. Show him in, please.

- This way, sir.

- Thank you, Judson.

Emily.

Miles, dear,

how kind of you to come.

I came directly.

I received your message.

Is something wrong?

Yes.

Guy is ill.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

I suppose

it's the Italian climate.

But we didn't go to Italy.

But I thought...

We've been here in this house...

ever since the day

We were married.

I don't understand.

Neither do I.

All I know is that Guy is ill...

and you've got

to help him, Miles.

My dear, surely your father...

has done everything

that can be done.

My father has done nothing.

To him, Guy is

a perfectly healthy man...

but that isn't true...

and you must do something

to help him, Miles.

If you don't, something

terrible will happen.

He's a completely changed man.

I don't even recognize him.

Well, I'll do whatever I can.

Why don't you take me to him?

Thank you, Miles.

I'll just get my wrap.

Your wrap?

It's chilly on the moors.

Emily...

Where is he?

There.

He started building it

a month ago.

Guy?

Yes?

Let me in.

Go away. I'm busy.

Guy, please open the door.

Emily, didn't you

understand me? I said I...

Hello, Guy.

Hello, Miles.

I'm glad to see you.

I must apologize.

I was very rude.

Yes, Guy, you were.

Very rude.

You see, I've been quite ill.

So I understand.

Guy, I have brought

Miles along...

to see if he can help you.

That's very solicitous,

but quite unnecessary.

I'm helping myself now.

How, Guy?

How?

Come inside. I'll show you.

This is it...

my grand plan.

What shall it be?

Some liqueur, brandy,

amontillado?

Guy, I brought...

Now, let us drink

to something appropriate...

To death.

Not drinking?

What a pity.

It's really quite good.

Guy.

Yes, my dear?

You wish to say something?

No.

Well, in that case...

let me tell you

about my latest addition.

I thought of it

the night before last.

Of course, it's highly

unlikely I shall ever use it...

but one never knows, does one?

Permits of easy egress...

and it's completely

impassable from the outside.

A simple arrangement,

I grant, but effective.

Guy, this is madness.

Madness? It's the only

Sane answer to my problem.

I'll show you just how mad I am.

I suppose she's told you

my father was a cataleptic?

No, but that doesn't mean that...

And I am prone

to the same affliction.

Very well.

Let us consider the following.

Apropos of nothing at all,

I have an attack.

Let us say it happens

during dinner.

Emily sends Judson

to fetch a doctor.

The doctor arrives,

he examines me...

and pronounces me dead.

I am, of course, alive.

You know the nature

of catalepsy.

But to the rest

of the world, I am gone...

passed on, deceased.

So a funeral is held...

and I'm brought

down here to this vault...

and placed in this coffin.

The mourners have departed...

the doors are both locked...

and I'm alone.

Now, pay close attention.

Now, the slightest

movement of my finger...

caused that to happen.

I am now free

of the casket...

but I'm still capable

of only slight effort.

So...

"But," you say, "supposing

no one hears the bell?"

The departing mourners

lock both the doors.

But is that REALLY foolproof?

What if the gate should stick?

You see?

But, of course,

it's barely possible...

that all these methods

might fail.

So...

But tools break, too,

don't they?

A recent invention by

a Swedish chemist named Nobel.

It's called dynamite.

It's an explosive.

But how can one be sure

the stuff will work?

One can't, of course.

So...

one has a bit of food...

Something to drink...

every five

or ten minutes or so...

rings the bell.

Reads a periodical

or perhaps a book.

In the event the strain

becomes too great...

one can avail oneself with

the soothing effects of music.

And then one simply waits.

Rather well thought out,

don't you think?

But no plan is ever perfect.

So now comes

the "piece de resistance"...

or perhaps one should say

the "coup de grace. "

What is it, Guy?

What is it?

The cure for all suffering.

The answer to all problems.

The key, my darling,

to heaven...

or to hell...

or to nothingness.

Poison.

Thank you, Judson.

Tea is ready in

the dining room, milady.

Thank you.

How do you explain it, Miles?

Well, I don't just yet.

However, I venture to guess...

that the episode

at the cemetery...

changed the general fear

into a specific obsession.

Then...

you don't think it's catalepsy?

He's never had these

attacks before, has he?

I mean, fainting spells,

dizzy spells?

No. No.

But his father...

To the best of our knowledge...

catalepsy is not

an inherited affliction.

And there's a new

line of thought...

among some of us...

myself, Cargrave,

and a few others...

that may shed some

light on Guy's case.

You see...

most people tend

to think of the body...

and the mind as being

totally different...

two separate entities...

Whereas, in point of fact...

they're actually linked.

No sugar.

Do you follow me?

Yes, I think so.

You see, physically...

Guy may be perfectly sound now.

However, this constant fear...

that gnaws at him

night and day...

may actually bring about

a condition of catalepsy...

Where no such

condition exists now.

I see.

Well, what can be done?

I am not sure.

I'm not sure at all.

However, I do know this...

that Guy's mind is like

a keg of gunpowder...

and the smallest thing

might set the fuse...

the most innocent

reminder of death...

corpses, graves,

anything at all.

That's the first thing

you must remember.

Do you understand?

Yes.

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