Man in the Attic Page #7

wonderfully worth living.

And of death,

what is there to find out...

except it is the end of life?

That is a philosophy for a young and beautiful

woman who is the toast of London.

Thank you.

Which way are you going?

Your way, Miss Bonner.

Isn't that what your

enraptured young men would say?

I think they might.

What do you say, Mr. Slade?

- I am going to work.

- Oh? Where's that?

Everyone is so curious about me.

Very well.

I am going

to the university hospital...

where there are

laboratory facilities that I use.

I may not come home

until late...

and then your charming aunt

will become suspicious.

And soon, because I am not like everyone else,

she will ask me to leave.

I've had it all before.

Poor Mr. Slade.

Walk with me to the cab

across the square.

She won't ask you

to leave, Mr. Slade.

If she did, we'd all object.

- Would you?

- Of course.

I'm afraid you've been alone too much.

That makes one

quite broody, you know?

- I am broody?

- A little. And when you're like that, you miss things.

There's so much delight

in the world.

The whole sky,

with the sure sun in it.

The sound of laughter, and of music.

The sweet enjoyment

of a man's kiss.

Do I shock you, Mr. Slade?

You are an astonishing woman,

Miss Bonner.

Oh, dear.

I don't know what to do.

Ooh. Where is William?

Why doesn't he come home?

But what is it, Mrs. Harley?

What is it?

Never mind, Daisy.

I can't tell you now.

I must see Mr. Harley first.

Oh! Lily is walking with him.

- Lily's walking with that man.

- What man?

Why, It's only Mr. Slade

she's wlth.

Daisy, Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

Oh, William,

thank heavens you're home.

- You must stop them.

- What are you getting at?

Don't let her go off

with that man.

Helen, you've been nipping

at the sherry again.

Oh, please!

William, Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

Mr. Slade is the Ripper.

- Look at that.

- What is it?

The other morning when I took him his breakfast,

I smelled something burning.

He said it was his experiment.

It was his black bag.

He burned his bag, William,

right after he found out...

- the police were looking for a man with a bag.

- I see.

- Oh, is that all you can say?

- Very sensible of him.

- What?

- I said, very sensible of him.

Nobody can afford to own

a bag like that now.

Come here.

A man was mobbed this morning

in Trafalgar Square. They nearly tore him to pieces.

Why? Because he was carrying

a little black bag. This is my black bag.

I didn't burn it because

I didn't think of it. I just hid it in here.

Anyone who owns such a bag

is under suspicion.

The whole city has become hysterical.

People are flocking to the police

to inform on their neighbors.

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