Angels of Terror (Edgar Wallace: Die Tote aus der Themse)

You're sure they're coming?

They're coming, I'm sure.

Imagine, four kilos of heroin. That's a month's junk for all of London.

The Queen oughta decorate you, Myrna, for the service you provided us.

When they find out I betrayed them, the Queen may have to decorate my grave.

Good luck, Myrna. - Thanks.

Everything seems fine, boss. Myrna's coming now.

Good, I'll stay tuned. And obey Myrna's instructions.

I thought we were supposed to be unarmed.

Go ahead. Get on with it.

What's all that about? Our junk's top grade.

100,000 pounds.

Don't move. If you do, I'll shoot.

So that's your game, is it? Good job. The boss heard every word.

Inside of 24 hours, you'll be dead. - Hurry up, Jim. You still have a chance.

Hello, this is Edgar Wallace speaking.

THE BODY IN THE THAMES

Would you please get me Scotland Yard? And hurry.

Give me Inspector Craig.

This is Myrna. Myrna Ferguson. I'm terribly afraid, Inspector.

Where are you?

I'm near the harbor, at the Hotel Portland.

I've locked myself in because I... I was followed here.

I'll be there in ten minutes.

Inspector, he's already here!

Inspector! - Hello, Miss Ferguson?

Well, some gentleman you are. It's beastly not to finish something you started.

My profession ahead of yours.

You don't know me. You never saw me. Is that clear?

She's dead.

Will you step aside, please.

Let's hop it before the police arrive. - Hey, not before we've settled accounts.

Stand back! We're in for trouble. You never saw a thing. Good lord, no.

She's dead. - You won't get another penny from her.

We mustn't touch a thing till the police arrive. Get back to what you were doing.

That goes for you, too.

A scoop like this is sensational! It'll make all the morning papers.

I'd slip you something for letting me in. - Be quick about it then.

Go to your rooms and cover up. Shall the police think this is a brothel?

Off you go!

That's enough, I gotta call the police. We can't afford any scandal.

How many have died? - One.

Dreadful shooting, I'd say. - My, do you have a nerve!

How about a girl's profession? - Later, love.

She came in late, Inspector, and asked me to ring Scotland Yard.

Then I heard gun shots, ran up and found her lying in all that blood.

Hard luck. The police are already here. So long, love. Let's keep in touch.

You owe me the works. - I'll give you my card.

Ring you later.

That's impossible! - She was dead. You're sure of it?

But everybody saw her. You ask any of the hotel guests.

The murderer, nobody saw him? - No.

Let's question those guests of yours.

London. Ever since I was a child I dreamt about this place.

Australia has always been my home, and I adore it, but London is special.

It's the hub of the world. Here I am. - Well, I'm envious.

Everything's new to you. You're lucky. - You're wealthy and a world traveler.

I have no more to discover. Life's dull. - You might try working. Give you a purpose.

Me work? Only if I ran out of money would I do that. But it's not likely.

However, if you'd like to help me, two can spend it better than one.

Sorry, my schedule's already full.

Miss Danny Ferguson, please come to the information counter.

You see, I'm being paged already. Goodbye, Mr. Farnborough.

Farewell. I hope we meet again soon.

Miss Danny Ferguson please come to the information counter.

I'm Miss Ferguson.

Miss Ferguson, I'm your driver to the Palace Hotel.

The results from the laboratory show that Miss Ferguson has blood type 0,

rhesus positive. If the transfusion were not given within 5 or 6 minutes,

a hemorrhage would have surely caused her death.

Theoretically she could still be alive? - Yes, of course, but it's only theoretical.

I spend an entire evening preparing a beautiful statement for the press...

to find you refuse its release. The citizens have a right to be informed!

The largest shipment of heroin I've ever intersected and no explanation...

Sir John, I have every good reason for insistently keeping your methods.

We intersected three deliveries of heroin. They now believe their competitors...

did the stealing, otherwise they'd form a common front against the police.

Our tactic is to divide and conquer! - I'm staunchly opposed to your tactic.

Now, in my day we confronted them fair, square and looked them right in the eye...

and then... pow! - We've netted quite a haul.

It's a pity the public can't be apprised about triumphs on their behalf.

Four kilos of uncut heroin.

Can you inspect the seal? I should like to incinerate it while you're present.

Fine, thanks.

What is it, sir? - It's a monstrous waste.

100,000 pounds turn into ashes.

My dear Inspector Craig, why not call the reporters...

and release the story? They could write a glowing article,

perhaps with a picture of me beneath it... Of all of us, I mean.

Pardon me, Sir John. But in spite of the impressive figure...

you cut, we have to think of our security. Your published photo is liable...

to do the Yard more harm than good. Goodbye.

What sort of harm?

We're here. - Thank you.

Miss Ferguson, welcome to London. Apartment No 1106 for Miss Ferguson.

Is this your first visit in London? If there's anything we can do to make...

your visit pleasant, I, Mr. Pennymaker and our entire staff are at your service.

Mr. Pennymaker, did my sister leave a message here?

Anything for Miss Ferguson?

Only a telephone request from your sister that you be met at the airport.

Ah, so. - Pleasure.

Miss Ferguson just got here.

Hello, Danny. You didn't say you'd be here. - Hello, Mr. Farnborough.

Mr. Pennymaker, would you be so good as to send 50 red roses up to Miss Ferguson?

Yes, please?

Good morning. My name is Charles Stout. - Come in.

I'm... the owner of this hotel.

It's kind of you to welcome me in person, Mr. Stout.

Perhaps you have news of my sister, Myrna Ferguson?

After all, I was expecting her to be at the airport.

And there was no message when I arrived at the hotel.

Miss Ferguson, was your sister a dancer with the Royal Ballet?

Yes, you have news of her?

To be sure, the name Ferguson is a rather common name here.

But when I saw a Ferguson had checked in, I wondered if you were connected.

Mr. Stout, is something wrong?

I don't quite know how to tell you.

I happened to read it in the morning's paper.

Sometime last evening in a small hotel near the docks, a Myrna Ferguson was shot.

Her body had disappeared when the police arrived at the scene of the crime.

"Girl of the Royal Opera Ballet murdered."

I'm sorry. I had hope that...

My condolences.

Miss Ferguson... If I were you, I'd go straight to Scotland Yard.

Scotland Yard is the model watchdog of the entire nation.

Ever awake while the country is asleep, I mean so that she can't sleep soundly.

But if Scotland Yard should be caught napping once,

no Englishman would sleep soundly for a hundred years to come.

But if they'd had our modern methods of criminal investigation...

Rubbish! Oh, no... If I'd been there, I would have caught him.

You would have caught whom? - Jack the Ripper.

That is a pity. - A pity indeed, Inspector Craig.

It's a perfect example of what happens to the morals of our country...

when Scotland Yard is caught napping. I could have told those dunderheads...

one or two things they overlooked, namely: Jack the Ripper was left-handed.

You didn't know that, did you? Or that Jack the Ripper had a profound knowledge

of the medical profession when all of the Royal family in those days were imbeciles.

Medically speaking, that is.

But... I'll never rest until I know who Jack the Ripper really was.

And once I find out, I shall restore the honor of Scotland Yard.

Checkmate!

Sir John, a photographer to see you. - So soon? Did you bring... Thank you.

So... my portrait symbolizes Scotland Yard.

So therefore one is obliged... to take the trouble to be presentable.

Wonderful, thank you. Send him in then!

Well, young man, we're terribly busy here. My left side is what one usually takes.

Not too intellectual, it gives a false impression.

Sir John, this is David Armstrong. He isn't here to photograph you.

He's the man who took the photo of Myrna Ferguson's corpse.

Inspector Craig, place him under arrest.

He's been concealing material evidence. - Why's that? I'm bringing you the photos!

A bit late. The corpse has disappeared. - The photos are all I got.

I'll take them. And you keep out of trouble.

Excuse me, sir, but I didn't come to Scotland Yard for nothing.

You suggest we give you compensation?

Please send a check, will you? - You insolent lout, get out of here!

How can you stand a windbag like him? Hey, bird. Are you part of this outfit?

No.

How about a pint at the Dryman Anchor?

Now, assuming no one was killed, as you seem to think,

then surely there's no murderer. - There you go being psychological. Craig.

It's a serious fault of yours. I don't know what you would do without me.

Who's this girl, this ambulant corpse? - Myrna Ferguson.

The name rings a bell. What for? She's the one involved in... you know?

Sir John, Miss Ferguson's been waiting all morning to see you.

That ambulant corpse of yours!

Tell Miss Ferguson to amble in. From the start I knew there was something wrong.

Good day. - Good day.

This is Sir John, head of Scotland Yard. I'm Inspector Craig.

Lovely. It's amazing. Your photographs don't do you justice, Miss Ferguson.

Is your name really Ferguson? - Danny Ferguson.

Myrna Ferguson was my sister. This morning I arrived here from Sydney, and...

Myrna was to meet me at the airport. At the hotel I heard why she didn't come.

I can't believe this is happening.

My dear child, we'll do all we can. I'm personally working on the case.

Perhaps... I should let Inspector Craig explain though.

Take the young lady to your office.

It really distracts me when people squat on top of my desk.

Hey Inspector, I hope you don't take too long. I have a date with her at the pub.

I have more important things in mind just now.

How about you coming for a drink with me? - You forgot the date with Miss Ferguson.

It's a threesome then. Could be fun. - Not when you don't like beer.

It doesn't explain the crime. Why was my sister murdered?

Why was she in that horrid hotel?

She lived there.

But I thought she had an apartment in Regent Street.

That's the address of a forwarding service. Her papers gave her address as the hotel,

Hotel Portland, where she was murdered.

You didn't find anything? Only her purse and her jacket?

Did you come to London for the purpose of seeing your sister?

Yes. She worked here for the past two years.

A few weeks ago, she said she had enough to send me a round-trip ticket.

And... what will you do now?

I won't leave till I find out what happened. I couldn't go home...

till I've learned why she was killed.

That... could entail some risk.

Like what?

I have reason to believe that your sister was involved in smuggling heroin.

What would you say to a drink? - Get out of my way.

We could have a drink in my studio. I took photos of your sister.