Ministry Of Fear Page #2
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 1944
- 86 min
- 177 Views
I haven't been out much at night myself.
I hear the bombers overhead every night.
They pass over my farm on their way to London.
It's a dread sound.
Yes, it is.
- Would you like some cake?
- Cake?
Yes. I won it
back there at the fte.
You might as well share it with me.
It's a long way to a London restaurant.
Well, if you're going to have some--
Here you are.
Ah. Feel how light it is.
Made with eggs.
You'd think it was made with gold,
the way they wanted to hang on to it.
[ Airplanes Passing Overhead ]
I hear them now.
- What?
- The Nazis.
[ Airplane Engines Grow Louder ]
[ Explosions ]
They must be trying for the Blackmoor Factory.
[ Explosions Continue ]
[ Loud Explosion ]
Some low buildings about a mile.
That's it.
It's a munitions plant.
[ Door Creaking ]
Excuse me. There didn't seem
to be anyone here.
- What do you want?
- I'm looking for Mr. Rennit.
I'm Mr. Rennit. You should
have made an appointment.
Evidently you don't want clients.
Good morning.
Now, now, now, now.
You don't want to lose your temper.
I'm a busy man.
There are ways of doing things.
Take a chair, and we'll both have a drink.
- Not a bad idea.
- It's an excellent idea.
These raids-- bad for the nerves.
One must have a little something.
One gets rattled.
You'll excuse a teacup?
I've never objected to stimulants...
as stimulants.
- Your health.
- I may need it.
Now, to business.
- Your name?
- Stephen Neale.
Hmm.
Have you a pencil?
Thank you.
How did you happen to come to me?
Because I don't like my hotel room being
ransacked while I'm out at breakfast.
I don't like being robbed on trains or shot at.
Mr. Neale...
this is a respectable business with a tradition.
I'm not Sherlock Holmes.
A man in my position
doesn't go crawling about floors...
with a microscope looking for bloodstains.
If you're in that kind of trouble,
you should go to the police.
I don't wish to be mixed up with the police.
I'm sorry. It would've been worth
20 to have you come with me.
20, eh?
- W-Well, let's get on with it.
- I see.
Yes, war plays the devil
with a business like this.
Come on.
[ Typewriter Keys Clacking ]
You come in if there's trouble.
Yes?
- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.
I'm looking for the address
of a Mrs. Bellane.
- No lady of that name works here.
- She was helping with your charity fte at Lembridge.
[ Chuckles ] Oh, they were
voluntary helpers. I'm sorry.
We can't possibly disclose...
the addresses of the voluntary helpers.
Well, isn't there some way I can get it?
A mistake was made. She gave me
a cake that didn't belong to me.
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"Ministry Of Fear" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 2 May 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/ministry_of_fear_13805>.
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