The Abominable Dr. Phibes

Good morning, sir.

It's a damn strange business, Tom.

A man literally shredded to death right in the heart of London.

That's the last one.

Bats appearing out of nowhere?

I don't know, it just... just doesn't make sense.

Ooh, they're nasty-looking little blighters, aren't they?

Seen them in Mandalay. Suck your throat dry, they would.

Yeah, well, that's where they belong, in the tropics.

I mean, not -- not here. Not in a place like this.

Yes, all right, thank you very much.

Take them all off to the laboratory, would you?

Right, sir.

And have them double-checked for rabies.

Yes, sir.

- Now, Morgan? - Yes, sir'?

- Where the hell are you? - I'm up here, sir.

Oh, so you are.

When you're finished up there,

I want you to question the butler again.

There may be something he's overlooked.

Very good, sir.

Remember when you were in Scotland at the beginning of last week?

YES.

Well, there was another surgeon who died.

- A Dr. Thornton. - What about him?

- It's was more the way he died. This...reminded me of it.

He was stung...to death by bees in his library.

Bees in his library?

That's right.

Before we arrived, the whole place must have been swarming with 'em.

I've got the file on my desk now.

You should have seen his face.

The whole flesh was a mass of... well, boils.

- Boils? - All over. Stings, I suppose.

I wonder if there is a connection.

Well, I'll go through the file.

God knows what we've got.

Two doctors, both dead.

Oh, don't take him out like that!

At least cover his face up.

What's left of it.

Good God.

Nobody told me this was a -- a masked affair.

For me?

How very elegant.

But, my dear fellow...

It's beautiful!

I say, jolly fine party, what?

Don't believe we've met. My name's Hargreaves.

Dr. Hargreaves.

I'm a psychiatrist, actually.

Head shrinker.

I say, would you -- would you oblige? Some fancy catch.

Much obliged.

Now point me towards the ladies.

Thank you.

Say...

Is that you, Freda?

This mask is jolly tight.

Hi.

Absolutely not.

We're short-staffed as it is,

and you want me to give you more men

to go charging off on one of your half-baked theories?

It's ridiculous.

Anyway, medical men die every day.

- I'm aware of that, sir. - Good.

They're composed of the same flesh and blood as you and I.

I'm aware of that, too, sir.

I happen to have seen rather a lot of their flesh and blood

in the past few days.

And another thing.

Suppose the press get hold of this.

Don't you talk to me about the press, Trout.

You keep your ideas you've got to yourself on that one.

Mention this to the press and you know as well as I do,

given half a chance, they'd whip up a panic story overnight.

The whole damn place would be an uproar.

It was not my intention.

It's certainly not mine.

I want no statements.

Can you imagine what they'd make of bats, bees and...and what?

Frogs.

Exactly.

Why don't you go and reread "Aesop's Fables"?

Then perhaps you'll come to me with a rather more pertinent theory.

That's all, Trout.

Look, three men have died, sir, all in the medical profession.

Does that not suggest --?

No, it damn well doesn't.

There are some very strange people practicing medicine these days.

Dr. Longstreet.

Mrs. Frawley.

I'm Off.

- You're what? - Off.

Oh, yes. Yes.

You're sure you don't mind me having the evening off?

No, no. I shall rather enjoy it. I mean -- I mean, have a good time.

I've got you some cold brawn.

Oh, that sounds delicious.

I won't be back late.

I'll be back before midnight.

You don't have to hurry. You won't turn into a pumpkin.

I don't know, though.

Mrs. Frawley!

Dr. Longstreet, we are naughty, aren't we?

We haven't touched our supper, have we?

- Oh. - And what is this?

This? What's thi-- Well, it's a...

Oh, I see what you mean. Oh, yes.

It's a -- It's a new thing on the market.

It -- It keeps out drafts.

Dra...

I'm...

I'm Dr. Longstreet, you know.

Who's this?

How did it go, Harry?

It didn't.

It came to a great grinding halt if you want to know.

All he's worried about is the press.

Well, they've been on, of course.

- And? - I've killed it, don't worry.

We're playing it all down. I'm sitting on the lab reports.

I don't care what the old man says, Tom.

There is a pattern here, a most definite pattern.

- Is there anything in there? - Well, I've been through the whole lot.

Correspondence, family, all that sort of thing.

Yeah, well, what does it tell us?

Well, they have one thing in common.

If you say they all died mysteriously, I'll bloody kill you.

Vesalius.

- What? - Dr. Vesalius.

That's a funny name. Who the hell's he?

Well, they all worked for him at some time,

and judging by the correspondence here,

were fairly close associates.

Good, good, yes. What else?

Nothing.

Nothing?

I see. You mean to say that after 24 hours diligent research,

that is all you have been able to discover.

Well, do we have an address for this man?

An address.

Oh, damn it all, Tom. where does he live?

This way. He's through here, sir.

Ah, I see. Thank you very much.

Father.

Father, there's someone to see you.

Inspector Trout.

From Scotland Yard.

Detective inspector.

Good evening, sir.

I -- I'm sorry to intrude like this, sir,

but it is a -- a very urgent matter.

And I thought perhaps you might be of some assistance to us, sir.

How?

Three men...

Three men in your profession have all died in the past week

in most unusual circumstances.

Inspector...

men in my profession die every day.

- You have your foot on my pliers. - I'm sorry, sir.

Thank you.

Do the names Hargreaves, Thornton, and Dunwoody

mean anything to you, sir?

It's hard to believe.

I'm -- I'm sure of that, sir,

but can you think of anything, anything at all,

that would relate to the killing of these three men?

Nothing. Nothing.

Only last week I was talking to Thornton.

Hello.

Yes, he is.

It's for you.

Thank you.

Hello. Trout.

I see. Where's that?

Yes, all right. Ten minutes.

Did you know Dr. Longstreet?

You heard a what?

Well, a -- a violin or a cello or something.

At half past two in the morning, woman?

- Yes. - In the street?

Yes, I told you. Don't keep on at me.

I'm sorry.

Like I said, I heard it.

Then there was this car door banging.

Well, I couldn't get off to sleep,

so I co-- came down to find some aspirins.

The door was open a bit, and as I looked through, there he was.

- And then I rang for you lot. - And that's all?

Well, that's enough for one night.

I mean, look at him -- all white and everything.

There's nothing except this.

And, uh, that.

Ah, now...

Do you recognize this, madam?

Unh-unh. Fingerprints.

No, it's not mine.