Whirlpool Page #3

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I want you to meet

my guest of honour. David!

This is Feruccio,

31st Baron of Ravallo,

and his adorable fiance, Taffy Lou.

I'm responsible

for bringing them together.

You're in the movies, Mr Korvo?

No.

Mr Korvo reads souls, guides human

destinies with the aid of the stars

and makes fortunes for other people

at a nominal fee.

How wonderful! I have always admired

fortune-tellers.

- I am not quite a fortune-teller.

- He's a genius!

Before you go, you must attend

one of his lectures on hypnotism.

Nor am I quite a hypnotist.

I use a number of sciences in my

experiments with the human family.

For instance, you, Baron,

are obviously born in November,

late November. Yes? Sagittarius.

How do you know that?

You are also a hyperthyroidic type

and from the droop of your eyelids

and your overstressed speech,

with a manic depressive tendency.

Adding up these informations,

we get a man of violent temper,

suffering from fits of melancholia,

who in the past year

has been preoccupied with suicide.

But how can you know? I have spoken

to nobody except my Taffy Lou.

How do stars tell you that?

Not the stars, my eyes.

They, too, are a science.

The cut is only recently healed.

A bad one.

This man is marvellous!

You mustn't move a step from now on

without consulting him.

I'll arrange everything! I'll bring

him to Italy for your wedding!

All it will cost you is expenses

for David and me in Rome.

A pleasure!

You make us sound like pickpockets,

which is unfair to one of us.

- Drink, Ann?

- Yes, please?

Arrivederci. I hope your new marriage

gives you something to live for.

If only a divorce.

A pure canasta, boys!

This will help your headache.

- Does it show?

- Not much. A squint in your eyes.

How could you tell the Baron

was born in November?

Taffy Lou's my protge.

I interviewed her before the party.

Very ingenious.

I'm so glad you're here.

You make Tina's party almost human.

You're remote

from this sort of people.

I want to help you, Ann. Your eyes

are full of fear and tension.

- Have you slept?

- No.

- Not since that day?

- I can't sleep.

- Pills any help?

- No. They don't put me to sleep.

- They just make me jump inside.

- Yes, I know.

I'll ask Bill for some other kind.

Don't. Your husband

is not entirely stupid.

If he finds out you have insomnia

he'll look for its cause

and probably stumble on it.

We don't want to appear like

the twisted customers on his couch.

If I could only sleep.

You need treatment

and you can't go to a doctor.

Your husband would hear of it at

the first caf klatsch he attended.

Perhaps you'll swallow your prejudice

against a humble astrologer

whose only medical diploma

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