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of his supposed patient. "

- Do you remember that?

- No.

Why do you believe then

that you were with him?

Because wherever we went,

I came back with his identity.

I wouldn't have come back

as Dr. Edwardes

if I hadn't known that he was dead.

How would I know that he was dead

if I hadn't been with him when he died?

Were you?

I don't remember,

but, logically,

I know that I must have been.

Logically, I also know

why the body hasn't been found.

Because it was hidden by me.

Don't you see

that you are imagining all this?

You call yourself names. You insist

without proof that you're a murderer.

You know what that is, don't you?

Whoever you are, it's a guilt complex

that speaks for you.

A guilt fantasy that goes way back

to your childhood.

I think you're quite mad.

You're much crazier than I

to do all this

for a creature without a name,

to run off with a pair of initials.

The police have not given your name

or case history to the papers.

That must mean one thing. That your name

was not in Dr. Edwardes' files.

You were in an accident.

Where was it?

What happened to your hand?

Your hand was burned.

You've had an operation

in the last six months.

A skin graft. Third degree burns.

Your hand was burned. Where?

- It hurts.

- Try remembering.

My hand hurts.

Your hand is remembering.

Open your mind and the pain will leave.

- Where did it happen?

- I can't. It hurts.

- What happened?

- It's burning. My hand's burning.

Try to remember.

- My dear, are you all right?

- I'm all right. What happened?

You relived an accident you've been in.

But the memory only touched

the part of your mind that feels.

But it's a beginning. It really is.

You'll feel better soon.

Who could that be?

I know. I sent down for

the later editions of the papers.

- You ordered the afternoon papers?

- Yes.

- They came. I brought them right up.

- Just a minute.

- Here you are. Thank you.

- Thanks.

My picture's in the paper.

He recognized me.

We've got to go. Quick. We can't pack.

Listen, when you left the mountains,

you must have passed through New York.

Wherever you came from,

wherever you went,

you must've been in a railroad station.

You must have heard Edwardes

ask for tickets to somewhere.

- I don't remember.

- You will.

When you come to the ticket window, try

to relive that other time with Edwardes.

Try to repeat what was said then.

Ask for the same tickets.

I'll try.

One, Philadelphia.

Philadelphia. $3.39, including

the total with tax. Thank you.

You went someplace with Edwardes.

Ask for tickets to that same place.

$8.46, including tax. Thank you.

What is it?

What do you want, sir?

Can you please step aside?

I want two tickets.

Where to?

Rome.

- Rome.

- To where?

- Rome.

- What Rome?

He means Rome, Georgia.

Is there anything wrong?

My husband is ill. I'm taking him home.

Here you are.

Two tickets to Rome, Georgia.

He'll be all right in a minute.

These dizzy spells go away quickly.

- He looks sick. I'll call a doctor.

- No, no, he'll be all right.

Do you feel better now, darling?

Darling?

Pull yourself together.

You're all right.

When does the train for Rome leave?

Birmingham Special.

Leaves in 10 minutes. Track 17.

- I feel better now.

- Thank you.

That's all right, I'll take him

to the train in case anything happens.

He has recovered now.

You're very nice to offer help,

but I can get along. Thank you.

Act as if we are taking this train.

We walk down-aways and then turn back.

- What's the matter with this train?

- The policeman heard us buy the tickets.

- Did he act suspicious?

- No, he was very nice.

But when he goes

to the police station tonight,

he may find descriptions of us posted

and he'll remember us.

They'll telegraph Rome, Georgia

and have us picked up.

We can't go back to the hotel.

They'll have a million police there now.

We're not going back.

We're going to Rochester.

Come on, we'll go over

to the Grand Central Station.

By the way, what are we going

to Rochester for?

We're going to visit Dr. Brulov.

That's the fellow

who doesn't like sauce bottles.

He was my analyst.

He psychoanalyzed me.

Really? What was wrong with you?

All analysts have to be psychoanalyzed

by other analysts

before they start practicing.

That's to make sure

that they're not too crazy.

Apparently, the mind is never too ill

to make jokes about psychoanalysis.

I'm sorry. I'm a pig.

I am. I keep forgetting

you're a patient.

So do I.

When I hold you like this,

I feel entirely well.

Will you love me just as much

when I'm normal?

I'll be insane about you.

I am normal.

At least, there's nothing wrong with me

that a nice, long kiss wouldn't cure.

I've never treated a guilt complex

that way before.

- We don't want to attract attention.

- Everybody's doing it.

- You both going?

- Yes.

Don't read the paper.

Let's pick up where we left off.

Pick up what?

Try to recall the first moment

you thought you were Edwardes.

- Darling, I have a confession to make.

- Yes, I'm listening.

As a doctor, you irritate me.

I sit here swooning with love,

and then suddenly you ask me a question

and I don't like you anymore.

Do you have to sit there

smiling at me

like some smug

know-it-all schoolteacher?

I can't help smiling.

That's what happens in analysis.

As the doctor begins to uncover

the truth for the patient,

said patient develops a fine,

hearty hatred of said doctor.

You're going to hate me a great deal

before we're through.

- And you're gonna like that.

- As a scientist, yes.

And if I shall happen to biff you one,

you'll consider that sort of a diploma.

Yes, but don't biff too hard.

No, I think we should go on

with our investigation.

We have some new facts

to work with now.

- What facts?

- You're a doctor,

you were in an accident,

your hand and forearm were burned,

- and you were in Rome.

- I was never in Rome in my life.

You were either there or going there.

You remembered something, no doubt

connected with the burning of your hand.

Rome. Think of Rome.

Maybe Rome, Italy.

When did you go to Rome?

What did you do in Rome?

Think.

Rome.

Yes. I remember something.

- Fighter planes spotted us.

- You were flying?

Transport, Medical Corps.

Over Rome, heading north.

- What happened?

- They hit us.

Caught fire. Uniform burned.

Bailed out.

What else?

I don't know. It blacks out.

You left the Army?

Yeah.

I probably deserted. I hated it.

I hated killing.

I can remember that much.

Your guilt fantasies were obviously

inflamed by your duties as a soldier.

Stop it.

Babbling like some phony King Solomon!

Sit there full of half-witted devil talk

that doesn't make sense!

If there's anything I hate,

it's a smug woman!

Darling, we're just beginning.

Don't biff too hard yet.

I worked as Dr. Brulov's assistant

for a year, right after my internship.

He got me the post at Green Manors.

You'll like Alex.

I doubt that. One psychoanalyst

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