The Ghost and Mrs. Muir

And now my mind

is made up.

Oh, Lucy.

I never heard

of such a thing.

Oh, Lucy, Lucy.

Please don't make it

more difficult.

I know you've tried to be

generous and kind...

but it simply won't work,

my living here.

Eva, speak to her.

Are you serious, Lucy?

Yes, Eva, I am.

And poor Edwin

barely cold in his grave.

He's been dead

almost a year now.

Still you might have

some consideration

for your husband's memory.

I don't see what Edwin's

got to do with this.

I'm not leaving him,

I'm leaving you.

After all we've tried

to do for her.

You mustn't think

I'm not grateful.

You've both been

so very kind to me...

but I'm not really

a member of the family...

except for marrying your son,

and now he's gone.

I have my own life to live...

and you have yours...

and they simply

won't mix.

I've never had

a life of my own.

It's been Edwin's life

and yours and Eva's...

never my own.

Stop sniveling, Mother.

If she's determined

to make a fool of herself...

there's nothing

we can do about it.

But what will I have to

remind me of poor Edwin?

Lucy, have you

considered Anna?

Yes, Eva, I have.

You're willing to take responsibility

for what might become of her?

She's my daughter, Eva.

And what do you

mean by that?

Only what I said.

You're insinuating

that I interfere with Anna.

Don't deny it, Lucy.

Don't deny it, I say!

I'm not denying it, Eva.

Please, can't we discuss this

without quarreling?

I'm sure I don't know

how you'll manage, Lucy.

You haven't any money.

I have the income

from Edwin's gold shares.

Anna and I can live

quite cheaply with Martha.

Do you mean you're

taking Martha Huggins?

And why not? She was with me

before I came to live with you.

Of all the ungrateful--

Please, Eva. I'm sorry,

but I've made up my mind.

But where, Lucy,

where can you go?

The seaside, I think.

I've always wanted

to live by the sea.

Oh, goody.

Well, that's all I have to say.

I should think

it's quite enough.

Apparently there's

nothing we can do about it...

but when you realize

your mistake

and try to come

crawling back to us...

don't expect

any encouragement from me.

I won't, Eva.

Well, it's done.

Oh, it's a blooming

revolution, that's what.

Isn't Whitecliff

beautiful, Martha?

Oh, I am sorry.

It's quite all right.

Are you Mr. Itchen?

Mr. Itchen passed on

3O years ago.

May he rest in peace.

Mr. Boles?

Likewise.

Then you're Mr. Coombe.

Junior.

Of course.

You answered my letter.

Please eat.

Thank you.

I'm Mrs. Muir.

Mrs. Muir, of course.

You were desirous of renting a house.

Yes.

Well, I've selected

several prospects

suitable to a young lady

in bereaved circumstances.

Bowles Yard. Seaside villa.

Three beds, two recept...

complete offices,

company's gas and water...

ideally sits near bus stops,

modern drains, private garden...

1 2O.

1 O deposit.

I'm afraid that's

a little too expensive.

Right.

Labernum Mount.

First-class residential street...

four bed, one recept,

sun parlor, offices...

company's gas and water,

beautifully planted, short walk--

This one.

Uh, Gull Cottage.

What was that, madam?

This house.

Gull Cottage.

It's exactly the sort of

place I'm looking for.

Gull Cottage. Oh, no, no.

That wouldn't suit you at all.

Labernum Mount.

First-class residential street...

four bed, one recept,

sun parlor, offices...

company's gas and water--

And only 52. That's very little

for a furnished house.

It's a ridiculous price.

I suppose

there's something wrong.

Is it the drains?

When Itchen, Boles, & Coombe

put up a house for rent...

you may be sure there is

nothing wrong with the drains.

Then why shouldn't it suit me?

My dear young lady, you must

allow me to be the judge of that.

Now where were we?

Oh, yes. Labernum Mount.

Beautifully planted,

short walk from--

But if I'm going to

live in the house...

I should be the judge.

You'll only waste your time.

But it's my time.

I believe there's another

house agency in Whitecliff.

Perhaps they have

Gull Cottage listed, too.

Very well, madam,

if you insist.

I shall drive you to Gull Cottage

in my motorcar.

That's very good of you,

Mr. Coombe.

Uh, Mrs. Muir.

It's only a short drive

to Labernum Mount.

But I want to see the inside.

The inside?

Of course.

What on earth's the matter?

Very well.

If you insist.

Terribly dusty.

The house has been empty

for nearly four years.

Oh.

Office is back there.

Living on the right.

Dining off the living.

Oh.

Of course.

It's a painting.

I thought for a moment...

Who is it?

The, uh, former owner,

a Captain Gregg.

A sea captain.

That explains the scheme

of decoration, doesn't it?

Which is in frightful taste.

Oh, I don't agree with you.

It's really a lovely room...

and most of the furniture

will do as it is.

Mrs. Muir, I must beg of you

not to be so precipitous.

I assure you this house

will not suit you at all.

Oh, but it does.

It suits me perfectly.

What a hideous tree.

What kind of a tree is it?

I believe it is called

a monkey puzzle tree.

Why?

Because it defies the efforts

of monkeys to climb it, presumably.

Why, it ruins the view.

I'll have it chopped down.

Did you say something,

Mr. Coombe?

No, I did not.

Well, I think I'd better

see the rest of it.

As you wish, Mrs. Muir.

What on earth?

What, Mrs. Muir?

That table. I thought you said

no one had been here.

I said nothing of the sort.

I said the house

had been empty. It has.

A charwoman

was here last week.

Well, she must have left

in a frightful hurry.

That she did.

Did she tell you why?

She told me nothing.

She returned the key

to the office whilst I was out.

Oh.

Mrs. Muir, I--

I know, it won't suit me.

But it does.

I'd like to see the upstairs.

The upstairs.

The, uh, main bedroom.

Of course.

He liked to watch the ships.

But what...

That's what it is.

You're clean.

I beg your pardon,

Mrs. Muir.

Oh, not you, Mr. Coombe,

the telescope.

Did you laugh,

Mr. Coombe?

Mr. Coombe?

You would come.

I didn't want to show it to you...

but, oh, no, no,

you had to see it.

Haunted.

How perfectly fascinating.

Fascinating?

I suppose it's fascinating that

this house is driving me to drink.

To drink!

Four times I've rented it

and four times the tenants

have left after the very first night.

The owner's in Australia,

Captain Gregg's cousin.

I've written to him, cabled him

begging him to release me...

but he only replies,

""Rely on you.''

Well, I don't want

to be relied on.

I never want to see

this house again.

I wish Captain Gregg

had lived to be 1 OO.

I wish he'd never been born.

I'm terribly sorry,

Mr. Coombe.

Well, at least you know now

why it won't suit you.

Yes, I--I suppose so.

Why does he haunt?

Was he murdered?

No, he committed suicide.

Uhh! I wonder why.

To save someone the trouble

of assassinating him, no doubt.

Come. We'll go

to Labernum Mount.

Mrs. Muir.

Mrs. Muir, if you please.

You'll probably think it

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