Tales of Terror Page #3

about it in the future.

I will. I will.

God...

For the love of God, Montresor...

Yes.

For the love of God.

Nice professional job.

She must have it hidden somewhere.

Eureka!

Everybody back to the counter!

Montresor is buying again!

Gentlemen, let's have a toast, huh?

To my precious wife,

without whose money this most splendid

evening would be impossible.

Where she is now,

she won't need it anyway.

Who dat knocking at the door?

Is dat you, Sam?

Argh! Argh!

Aaargh!

Give me back my head!

Keep that cat from my head, will you?!

Keep that cat from...

Give me back my head!

Aaaaargh!

Huh!

Go away!

I said... go away!

- Mr. Herringbone?

- Yes.

- We knocked, but no one answered.

- The door was ajar, so we looked in.

Then when we found the house

in such a state...

In such a state?

Oh, yes. l...

I remember l was searching

for something last night.

We thought there'd been some trouble,

so we came right in.

- Are you all right, sir?

- I'm all right!

We've received a report from a Mr. Wilkins.

He's the bartender at the Red Lion Tavern.

You know Mr. Wilkins.

Claims you spent a rather large

amount of money last evening.

Well, it's my own money.

Can't I spend my own money?

Further, that you said that your wife

wouldn't need the money where she is.

Might I ask, sir, where your wife is?

She's gone. She left with her lover.

I don't know where she is, nor do I care.

Are you ill, sir?

No, I... No.

You don't happen to have

a little whisky on you, boys, huh?

No, sir.

You see, I've had hallucinations lately.

Been drinking a little bit

too much last night.

l see. Do you mind, sir,

if we search the premises?

No. Where do you want to start?

I think... the cellar.

The cellar.

Oh. Are you coming down, Montresor?

- Did you hear anything?

- No.

- No.

- I didn't think so.

Well, here we go, gentlemen.

Yes. Come on down.

I...

I think l'll drink a little less in the future.

Now he decides.

- Shut up.

- What?

Nothing, nothing.

I just keep mumbling.

I had too much to drink.

- We had better make a thorough search.

- Search?

Don't you find everything

all right and in order?

Go ahead, search everything

you want. I don't care.

Montresor! What a thing to say.

Naughty, naughty, Montresor.

Keep quiet!

Whoo-ooh!

Whoo-ooh!

Right behind here, Mr. Policeman.

We're

right behind the wall! Right behind it.

Are you blind, Mr. Policeman?

Whoo-ooh! You're not paying

attention. You're getting cold. This way.

Now are you satisfied?

What do you think?

I buried them down here?

That's exactly

what he did. Exactly!

Where would I have hidden them?

Under this floor?

Or... or maybe in that wall, huh?

Look! Look how solid it is!

Look at it! Look!

What in the name of God?

- You can hear it too?

- Hear it?

What's behind there?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Well, we'll see.

What exactly is it that occurs

at the moment of death?

Especially to a man who,

in that moment, is not permitted to die.

As in the case of Mr. Valdemar.

There is no pain.

No...

pain.

You are at peace,

mind and body

at peace entirely.

Yes.

Then listen to the sound of my voice.

Carefully.

Pain vanished.

Mind and body in a state of peace.

You understand this, Valdemar?

I...

under... stand.

Then sleep.

Sleep.

When my hand passes across your face,

waken.

- Are you all right?

- Perfectly, my dear.

- The pain, it's gone?

- Vanished!

What is your finding, Doctor?

- Well, you seem to be in good condition.

- Seem to be? But I am!

Mesmerism works! lt works.

I've never doubted that it works, sir.

Only its advisability in certain cases.

It would certainly seem to be advisable

in the case of Mr. Valdemar.

Or would you have me suffer

untold agonies of pain

in order to observe

strict medical protocol?

- Ernest!

- My sweet Helene.

Forgive me, both of you,

for my most untimely sense of humour.

But this is a joyous moment.

Smile!

Come. Let us drink.

Let us drink to mesmerism,

the ministration of the gods.

I'm sorry, I can't drink to that.

Then drink to the health

of my beautiful wife.

- To the very good health of you both.

- And to Mr. Carmichael.

Sir.

How blessed to be free of pain.

For that part, sir,

I am truly happy. Please believe me.

1t's for the other aspect of

mesmeric influence that I feel concerned.

- Which is, Doctor?

- Perilous toying with the human mind.

But, my dear Dr. James,

what is perilous about it?

Mr. Valdemar has received nothing

but advantage from its applications.

And, as we all know,

he is dying of an incurable disease.

- I wish you'd stop refer...

- Helene, Helene.

The issue must be acknowledged.

Within this skull -

as well you know, Doctor -

there is tissue which is dying

even as I speak.

I am physically doomed.

I do not say this

out of bitterness or despair.

However, there is one favour I would ask:

To escape a pitiful and painful

decline to death

through the auspices of Mr. Carmichael.

- Would you deny him this, Doctor?

- No, sir.

And yet, you know, he will accept

nothing for this blessing,

save some trifling favour on my deathbed.

- Sir?

- Favour, Ernest?

I should not even have

mentioned it. It's so slight.

No, please. I want to know.

Well, my dear, it's simply...

You tell them, sir. You can

explain it so much better than I.

Mr. Valdemar has consented

to be mesmerised in articulo mortis.

- Which is to say...

- At the point of death.

I fear it sounds

more dreadful than it really is.

What does it mean?

Ernest, why?

To ascertain just how long the actual

moment of death can be forestalled.

A momentous experiment.

Momentous? Monstrous

would be more the word!

Sir, l appeal to you, withdraw this offer.

The deathbed is no place

for lunatic experiments.

My dear young friend, what can it matter

whether l die 1 0 or 20 minutes

beyond that point

when I shall die at any rate?

What could be less important?

I owe this gentleman a great deal.

A great deal.

I could not dream of refusing him

such an insignificant request.

As you say, sir.

- I fear I must leave now.

- So soon? I am sorry.

Good night, Doctor.

Thank you for attending me.

My dear, show our friend

to the door, will you?

Yes, of course.

A bit more wine, Mr. Carmichael? Hm?

Oh! Thank you.

Elliot, this experiment...

Do everything in your power

to dissuade him from it, Helene.

I've no proof that it's dangerous, no proof

whatever. I only sense that it might be.

What is it, Elliot? Why is it that

since that man entered our life

I can't think, I'm uncertain...

Oh, he helps Ernest.

I can't argue with that.

He seems to relieve him of all pain. To see

him suffer is more than l can stand.

- But at the same time...

- You distrust Carmichael?

Yes, I do.

Still, it's true that he asks for nothing.

Perhaps he asks for nothing because

he desires everything - including you.

You can't be serious.

- You haven't seen him looking at you?

- Yes, but...

Of course I've no right to say this, really,

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