The Plague of the Zombies Page #2

just to keep you people satisfied.

It's not good enough.

Oh, so we are not good enough

for you now?

- I didn't say that.

- it's what you meant, though.

Well, let me tell you something, Doctor.

You're not good enough for us.

Do you understand me?

You're not good enough!

- Ah, Doctor, there you are.

- Sir James!

- Good afternoon, gentlemen.

- Good afternoon.

We've met before

in rather distressing circumstances.

May I now introduce myself?

Sir James Forbes, Professor

of Medicine at London University.

And this young man was

my cleverest and most able pupil.

I hope you realize

how lucky you are to have him here.

Landlord, see these gentlemen

have a drink with me, will you?

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Come on, Peter,

are you ready?

- Good afternoon, gentlemen.

- Good afternoon.

- Sir James, what are you doing here?

- You've lost weight, my boy.

- Alice not feeding you properly?

- Yes, but...

- Aren't you glad to see me?

- You've no idea.

- Why have you come?

- You wrote to me.

It's very kind of you

to come all this way, sir.

I've just seen Alice.

She's not looking well.

Poor Alice.

I'm afraid she needs a holiday badly.

- You both do, by the look of you.

- Can't manage one at the moment, sir.

- You've no idea what it's been like.

- Well, we'll talk about it later,

without any of this hocus pocus

you put in your letter.

Ah!

That was an excellent meal.

You girls are to be congratulated,

eh, Peter?

Oh, yes, Sir James. Indeed.

Still, what I always say is,

cooking is a science and not an art.

If you get it right once

there's no earthly reason

why you shouldn't get it right every time.

Now, you girls run along to bed.

Peter and I will do the dishes

- But, Father, you can't...

- But Father, nothing.

You've had a long day

and I'm sure Alice is tired.

Yes, I am tired, it's true.

Good night, Peter. Father.

Good night, my dear.

It's so nice to see you again, Sir James.

Thank you, my dear.

it's nice to see you, too.

For you, Sir James?

No, thank you.

That's not the answer,

you know, Peter.

I know.

I wish I knew the answer.

First of all, we have to decide

what the question is, don't we?

This disease seems to be

more mental than physical.

Yes, but you were

a little obscure, Peter.

You said there was no attributable

cause for this mental affliction.

I'd like to Know a little more

about the symptoms.

- What about appetite?

- The patient show a loss of appetite.

Skin color?

In every case a loss of skin color, too.

- Reflexes?

- Retarding

Hm, like someone

in need of a holiday in fact, eh?

- You don't mean Alice, surely?

- Now, now, now.

Don't let's jump to any conclusions.

- What did the autopsies show?

- I didn't make any.

You didn't make any?

What's come over you?

It is not permitted to make any.

- Well, who stopped you?

- The villagers.

They don't want the bodies

of their love ones cut about.

What about the coroner?

Surely he supported your applications?

- There isn't one.

- No coroner?

This isn't London, sir.

This is a Cornish village,

inhabited by simple country people

riddled with superstition

and all dominated by a Squire.

He acts as coroner and magistrate,

judge and jury.

And who is this jack of all trades?

Hamilton, sir. Squire Hamilton.

Master?

Tonight. Tell the others.

They are not back

from the chase, Master.

Tell them to prepare

just as soon as they return.

I do hope you meet him, Sylvia.

He's such a charming man.

- Is he now?

- And so handsome.

- And rich.

- And unattached?

Yes. Yes, he is, as a matter of fact.

You're not trying to marry me off

by any chance?

Well, you could do a great deal worse.

He's got a lovely house

and a lot of money.

And what does Peter think?

He doesn't like him.

He thinks he's arrogant

and overbearing.

But he's wrong. He is wrong.

- Good night.

- Alice.

You're trying to tell me something else,

aren't you?

No!

No, I'm not, but I...

- I must go.

- What did you say his name was again?

Clive Hamilton.

Goodnight, Sylvia.

I'm sorry.

Don't apologize to me, dear boy.

It's your Crockery.

Here, you'd better let me do the drying.

- I really do need a drink.

- Rubbish.

What you need

is an end to your worries.

So far we've nothing to start on,

nothing to help us at all.

I know.

We must have a body to examine.

We can't possibly work without one.

If you're thinking

of applying for an exhumation...

Apply for nothing.

We'll dig one up.

- We'll what?

- Dig one up.

That lad they buried today will do.

Nice and fresh.

Then we might learn something.

- But we can't just go out and start...

- We'll do it tonight.

There's a full moon.

Couldn't be better.

We'll start off about midnight.

Alice.

Alice!

Alice?

Is that you Alice?

Aah!

Wait a minute. I know you.

I know you!

Come on.

Oh!

Oh!

Ah.

Oh, oh.

Go away!

Oh, no. No!

Hey, Tom. Get her off!

Oh, let me go!

Leave me alone. Oh, oh!

- Come on.

- Let go!

Let me go! Let me go!

- Catch.

- Catch.

Oh!

What's it to be, lads?

Aces high?

Aces high.

Cut.

Ten of spades, four of diamonds,

Jack of clubs

Jack of hearts.

Let her go.

King of hearts.

Very appropriate.

Don't... Don't touch me.

- Don't you dare touch me.

- Come on, little fox.

Go to ground.

Leave her alone!

Get out of my sight, the lot of you.

Get out!

Get out!

Miss Forbes...

I know that it is useless to ask you

to forgive my friends.

Such behavior is beneath contempt

and beyond forgiveness.

I only ask

that you accept my solemn word

that I knew nothing

of what was going on.

How do you know my name?

The arrival in as small a village as this

of a beautiful young lady

and her distinguished father

could scarcely go unnoticed,

Miss Forbes.

My name is Hamilton,

Clive Hamilton.

Will you kindly take me home,

Mr. Hamilton?

I fear you have not forgiven me yet.

Your fears are well founded,

Mr. Hamilton. I have not.

Now, will you take me home

or do I have to walk?

Is there nothing I can do to persuade

you of my personal innocence?

Nothing.

I take it, then, I have to walk?

My carriage is at your disposal.

Unfortunately,

I can't leave at this moment

but I shall instruct

one of my young guests...

- Thank you. I prefer to walk.

- Miss Forbes, you can't walk.

You might be attacked, Miss Forbes.

I've already been attacked.

And it was here in your house.

Now, please open the door.

Thank you.

And tomorrow I shall go

straight to the police.

- Please don't do that, Miss Forbes.

- Why shouldn't I?

I am the Squire of this little community

and responsible

for the welfare of everyone in it.

Should any scandal attach

to my name,

the effect could be disastrous

for all these people.

I can't expect you to understand

why that should be.

I just ask that you believe it.

And what about those...

...your charming young guests?

Will you leave me to punish them

in the way I think most fit?

I promise they'll suffer

for what they've done.

Or would have done.

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