The Abominable Dr. Phibes Page #5

- I'm not very good company tonight.

I must play to you tomorrow. Old Darrow

put me onto it. It's a super piece.

Darrow.

You know, the chap at the music shop.

I always thought he was a bore,

but what a fantastic memory he's got.

Get him talking

about the great organists...

Bridges, Drew and Phibes,

he knew 'em all.

Anyway, 'night, Dad.

Good night.

Mr Darrow.

Mr Darrow, did you know this man?

Excuse me, Mr Darrow?

Did you know this man?

Sixpence.

Yes, but did you know him?

- God knows what the old chap meant.

- He couldn't tell you anything else?

He kept insisting in his strange way

that Phibes has been his patron for years.

And still is.

- He didn't tell you what he looks like?

- Oh, he's blind as a...

Well, he can hardly see at all.

There's something I very much want

to have a look at. May I use your phone?

- What do you expect to find here?

- We've drawn a blank everywhere else.

Fools. Fools:

They'll have the worms soon enough.

What happened

to the Phibes estate?

That's complicated, sir.

It seems he had money invested

all over Europe. We're still investigating.

- Where did he get all those degrees?

- That I can tell you.

He took a degree in music

in Germany at Heidel...

...berg.

- And another one in Paris at the...

- Sorbonne?

Yes. Now that was a PhD in theology.

Theology? That rather neatly explains

his knowledge of the Old Testament.

The G'tach, sir.

Open up, please.

Does anyone ever visit this place?

Well, someone has.

Are you sure that...

Well, here he is. Anton Phibes.

Right next to his wife.

Let's take a look.

-Notice that smell.

- Roses?

- More like formaldehyde.

- Mind your fingers.

Careful.

There. Ashes. Anton Phibes.

Now are you satisfied?

Well, I'm not sure that I am really, sir.

Think. All this proves is that somebody

was incinerated in that car crash.

- The Swiss police told us that.

- Exactly.

But suppose that somebody

was not Phibes at all, but his chauffeur.

- And Phibes is back in London?

- Just like the old man told you.

She was not incinerated.

Let's have a look at her.

My love, my sweet queen...

my noble wife,

severed too quickly, too cruelly

from this life.

I remain and suffer

to bring delivery of your pain,

of fires drawn and of memories met.

Soon we shall hold our two

precious hearts in single time.

This one here, Kitaj,

or however you pronounce it...

Schenley's on his way down there?

Crow:
I've been looking for you.

This is most unsettling. Thank God

the press haven't picked up on it.

- We've managed to withhold most...

- But if the press do get hold of this...

- We'd have a disaster on our hands.

- What the hell d'you think we've got now?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes