The Strange Love of Martha Ivers Page #2

they'd never catch him. Sam, button me up.

I came to say good-bye.

I thought it over, Martha.

It's better for you here.

- I won't stay here. I hate her!

- All you gotta do is play smart with her.

- I'm going with you.

- Now, you listen to me!

- I don't want to listen.

- It's late. I gotta go.

Let him go, Martha.

If he's caught here he'll be sent

to reform school. Mrs. Ivers said so.

They gotta catch me first.

All right, Sam, if you won't take me,

I'll go without you.

I'll go off by myself.

Okay. Then, let's go.

I want to run up to the attic.

I want to get a couple of things.

Sam. Quick, Sam.

Sam, Bundles. She's going downstairs.

- Sam, my aunt.

- I'll get her.

Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Sam, have you got him?

Have you got him, Sam?

Hurry, Sam, or that old witch will catch us.

She's dead.

We were upstairs.

We heard a noise and we came down.

We saw a man, a big man.

He was leaving. Out of that front door,

he left. See, it's open.

She was lying there.

And this... This was lying there, too.

I picked it up.

Isn't that true, Walter? Isn't it?

Is it, Walter?

Yes, Father, it is.

Put it down.

Put it exactly where you found it.

Both of you better go upstairs.

I'll phone the police.

- You'll never get away with it. Never.

- Your father believes me.

- I don't know. I'm not sure.

- You keep your mouth shut.

But Sam. What about Sam?

He was in the house. He saw it.

- Sam will never tell.

- Yes, he will. He's scared.

- That's why he ran away after it happened.

- Sam will never tell.

Sam's scared. He ran away.

I didn't. I stayed.

No, he won't. Not Sam. Not Sam!

I want to talk to you both.

Sit down.

Now, when the police come,

you will tell them...

exactly what you told me.

- Do you understand, Martha?

- Yes, Mr. O'Neil.

- And you, too, Walter?

- Yes, Father.

You poor child.

You'll be all alone in the world now.

Except for Walter and myself.

But you needn't be afraid.

We'll always be with you, Walter and I.

We'll never leave you.

Thank you, Mr. O'Neil.

... competition at the Fair Grounds last week.

In a handicap,

Chestnut King looks like an odds-on favorite.

That guy doesn't know what he's talking

about. Chestnut King's a dog.

He was losing races to cow ponies

years ago in Tijuana.

Well, what do you know?

What do you know about that?

How do you like that, sailor?

Leave a place when you're a kid, maybe 17,

18 years ago, and you forget all about it.

Then, all of a sudden, you're driving along...

and smacko, your own hometown

up and hits you...

right in the face.

End of the line, sailor. Come on, wake up.

- Where are we?

- In a small accident.

- What happened?

- The road curved, but I didn't.

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