Seven Days to Noon Page #2

Right, sir.

Ask General Willoughby in. Oh, Lane?

Yes, sir?

You've worked with Willingdon

for years, haven't you?

Yes, sir.

What are his political interests?

Political interests?

Well, I think his main one was...

keeping away from politicians, sir.

Oh. Wise man. Thank you, Lane.

We daren't gamble on the hope of

the commissioner finding this man.

I've asked our military advisers

to come here to prepare a plan.

General Willoughby, come in.

Will you sit beside me?

Yes.

Gentlemen, you'll find chairs.

Davis, anything come in?

Sit down, Lane.

Only Rogers' report.

Lets have it.

The night of the incident,

at 7.30 approximately,

Prof GT Willingdon is known to have...

You're not giving evidence.

Say it in English!

The next thing is round

about 8.00 he's at the

vicarage, playing chess

with the local incumbent.

Vicar.

Vicar. Hes not a bad hand at chess.

I expect that's due to

his mathematical brain.

Just the facts, Davis.

Well, after about half an hour

he sets off for the labs.

The record at the gate shows he was

admitted at 8.50, left at 9.05.

He was last seen catching

the 9.25 for Paddington.

That's a slow train, got

in that night at 10.50.

Do you know this vicar, Lane?

We've met. His name's Burgess.

He's the last person we know spoke

to Willingdon. I'd better see him.

Lane, come on...

I have a job for you.

Where are we going?

Back to Wallingford.

I'm after some clue to Willingdon's

motive. Has anybody put him up to it?

Go through his papers and if you find

any strange reference, let me know.

And, Lane, don't tell them anything.

Right.

Drive on.

Is anyone at home?

Excuse me. Where is the vicar?

I'm the vicar.

Oh. Sorry, sir.

You took me for the builder's mate?

I'm fighting a losing battle.

As I patch it up here,

it falls down somewhere else.

What can I do for you?

I'm Supt Folland.

You saw one of my men, Sgt Rogers.

Yes. So, youre from the police?

Yes. I have a few questions.

Oh. We're in a bit of a muddle here,

but find a seat somewhere.

Thank you.

Well, what's it all about?

You're a friend of Prof Willingdon's?

You're a friend of Prof Willingdon's?

Yes.

And he came here last night?

Yes.

Did he stay long?

About an hour.

Did he seem to be quite himself?

Yes, I suppose so.

You sound doubtful.

Do I? Oh, no. As far as

I could tell, he was himself.

Any special reason for his visit?

No. We often play chess.

We played last night.

What did you talk about?

We, um...

talked about private matters.

It's vitally important

that you tell me everything you know.

John Willingdon is one of my oldest

friends, and one of my parishioners.

I can't betray his confidence.

This is a matter of great urgency.

Willingdon has disappeared and his

disappearance endangers

the national safety.

National safety?

What is it you want to know?

I'm trying to find out his state

of mind, what his intentions were.

State of his mind?

There I may have misled you, Mr...?

Folland.

When I said goodbye to him

last night I felt decidedly uneasy -

as I often felt in the past months.

For a long time

I've known John was very troubled.

Yes? In what way?

How can I put it?

He'd lost all faith

in the value of his work...

...and he was wondering

where it was leading.

Yes?

He looked to me for help. I wish I'd

helped him more. He was so alone.

He was isolated

by the very nature of his work.

He thought his work

was being put to the wrong use?

Yes. He asked me a question

which I found difficult to answer.

And what was that?

He said, "What would you do...

...if the results of your life's work

were being put to an evil purpose?"

What did you say?

What could I say?

If we were convinced of that, we'd

do all we could to oppose that evil.

We'd have to be very sure,

if we were in Willingdon's position.

I told him that.

But every man has to act

according to his own conscience.

Did it occur to you

that his mind might be unbalanced?

No, I wouldn't venture an opinion.

If it was, perhaps we're to blame.

We've placed on his shoulders this

burden and left him to deal with it.

I say, Steve!

Yeah?

This is extraordinary. Here...

...look at that.

All that scrawl across

Daddy's writing! Here's another one.

Wait a minute.

This is Daddy's writing!

May I have a look, please?

Thank you.

dark, dark, dark,

amid the blaze of noon."

This your father's writing?

Yes, but I don't understand.

He wouldn't do that. Mr Folland...

...do you think he's ill?

Yes, I do.

That's why we must find him quickly.

Lane, we'll take these with us.

Seems he was heading for a breakdown

for some time. None of us noticed.

Repressing a fear is like trying to

hold on the lid of a boiling kettle.

Somethings got to go eventually.

What happens?

They work through an area, then they

start all over again somewhere else.

It's a tedious business. The men

don't enjoy it. Nobody enjoys it.

Let me see the hotel register.

Excuse me, sir!

Well, I'm damned!

Let's have a look at you.

I wasn't in miles of

Freeman's Wharf last

night! I don't know

nothing about no cigarettes!

All right, get on with your game -

you may win a packet.

"# If it's love that you want and

it's love that you miss, my baby... #

Police. Open up.

# But if pearls are my price,

Then you'll tell me "No dice"...#

"#... of the Lord up above... #

That's the Seaman's Mission,

Salvation Army, Church

Benevolent. That leaves

Rutton House. Come on.

Well, there's your

haystack, Lane. And it's

a damned small needle we're looking for.

PAPER! PAPER!

STAR". "NEWS". STANDARD". PAPER!

PAPER! PAPER!

STAR". "NEWS". STANDARD". PAPER!

STAR". "NEWS". STANDARD". PAPER!

STAR". "NEWS". STANDARD". PAPER!

No, I never was one

for hair on the face. A

clean upper lip shows

you've got nothing to hide.

Yes.

- Doing anything to grow more hair?

- Nothing.

Well have to do more. Wait...

No, thanks. I'm in rather a hurry.

My tonic'd grow hair on an elephant!

How much do I owe?

Bob, sir. If you do nothing about it

you'll get as bald as a coot!

- Thank you.

- Thank you!

Next, please.

Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty!

Come on, good girl!

Yes?

Mrs Peckett?

Yes.

You're advertising a furnished room.

Oh, the first floor front. Yes, it

is vacant. Well, come in, will you?

Thank you.

Down you go, Wendy. I

don't mind the gentlemen

going out but I'm

particular about my ladies.

My cats, you know. How long

would you want the room, Mr...?

Richardson. I'd like it for a week.

Ah, only a week?

Yes...

My work will be over by then.

Don't think me inquisitive. I'm not.

But what sort of work is it you do?

Research at the British Museum.

Oh. I thought you might be an actor,

and I won't allow theatricals here.

I quite understand.

That lot are trouble! This is it.

Thank you.

Ah, there's Bunty. Never know

where you'll find her. Shoo!

Well?

This'll do me nicely.

Oh, yes? I can arrange

a very small breakfast.

Thank you.

- I'll want your ration book for that.

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