 Speaking from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen, tonight we're honored to have two of the finest artists of stage and screen. They both distinguished themselves in highly dramatic roles. But in tonight's play, Holy Matrimony, we're presenting Charles Lawton and Pee Banger in a gay comedy from the 20th Century Fox Studio. A romantic adventure which developed when a wealthy and famous artist decides to assume the identity of his own valet. Now, act one of Holy Matrimony starring Charles Lawton as Priam Fowle and Pee Banger as Alice. His peculiar and incredible story of one of England's greatest painters, Mr. Priam Fowle. The one I had never met, Mr. Fowle, he would be my honor as an art dealer to represent him for many years. Mr. Fowle shunned society. Invading a claim and publicity, he was making his home in the year 1905 on a tiny tropical island somewhere off the coast of New Zealand. His only companion was his valet and reliever. The day came, however, when I dispatched some urgent message that he would turn at once to London. You are going to read the letter, Mr. Fowle? Or shall I just drop it into the sea? I assume you've already read it. Ah, yes, sir. I steamed it open over the tea kettle. Why, no, you bother. Don't you find my letters dreadfully dull? Rightfully so, sir. But your position is somewhat different from mine, sir. You delight in this isolation while I'm a most sociable character. Our existence in these suburbs of civilization with only yourself and a few aunties as the company is one that I've never been able to accept a whole heartedly. Come along now, Lee. Give it a fair chance. Twenty-five years, sir? Well, it had been as long as that. Asia, Africa, America, Patagonia, and now the Antipodes. So does I have glorious years of peace and solitude. Yet, Lee, under certain circumstances, I shouldn't mind seeing London again. In view of this letter, sir, that is a most fortunate observation. It says, sir, you are to return to London immediately. Who says so this time? That robber who calls himself an art dealer? Mr Oxford incurses a request from his Majesty the King of England. Sir, you are to be knighted. Knighted? There's been said. I deplore crowds and ceremony. I couldn't possibly say such an old deal. Problem and no clique. Thank him, of course. There are, and all that, under certain circumstances. We've been knighted, sir. That just isn't done. Not even by you. It is supposed to be. According to Mr Oxford, there is a sea ship leaving Auckland on April the 17th. You may start backing me for a miserable night. I received a cable from Mr Fowl from Oxford. Wearing made of secrecy, he ordered me to meet suitable luggins in London and to advise him accordingly. Under no conditions would I tell anyone of his arrival or whereabouts, nor would I be permitted to meet him. And so it was that after twenty-five years the distinguished artist returned to England. His arrival, however, was marked by prejudice. Henry Leek, his valet, was taken gravely ill. Oh, come along now, Leek. They are to be as nimble as ever. Lose sub-croning and go to sleep. It's pneumonia, isn't it, sir? I heard what he said. Let's talk to you soon. The chap's a perfect wizard. Have he cured in no time? Rightfully sorry, sir, doing this to you on the very eve of your being knighted. You actually must remind me this. Mr Fowl, I'm afraid I have a confession or two to make. Don't you be a fool. Never make a confession until you actually feel rigor mortis sitting in. You might recover. I'm done for, sir. I know it. You're going to get well. I insist upon a knife. Now, if you don't put your mind to it, this will be out of here and off to late, shitty carcass of all the night. You make life sound so... so attractive, Mr Fowl. But there are certain facts about me, sir, that you really should not be a ridiculous melodramat once I sit up. I've sent you another drink of the best friend. Now, whatever it was that Henry Leek was so anxious to confess, it remained a secret. But ten hours later, the poor man was dead. What's happened this way, you know? He's double the money over in the matter of hours. What will I do without him? After I sent him there, no. We've been together so long. There was no pain. He nearly fell asleep. Thank heavens for that. Now, where will one find Mr Fowl's relatives? What did you say? His relatives. They have to be notified. Uh, Mr Fowl's relatives? Yes, of course, Mr Fowl's relatives. Hadn't he any? Um, only a distant cousin, I believe. Ferec Duncan, a solicitor. I hadn't seen each other since they were boys. Do you know his address? Temple in, I believe. I take it you were Mr Fowl's relative? Yes, sir. Here's the first name, please. Priam. Priam? Fowl? The painter? The one who was to be knighted tomorrow? I, Joe, my wife, won't be half thrilled over this. She's passionately fond of art and all that knock. Yes, she indeed. If it is, I couldn't have pulled him through. I might have persuaded him to come to one of her tea. She'd have had a high old time together. Stop it. Wasn't it? Stop it. Crafted it. Priam Fowl was universally regarded as one of the soundest men of this or any other generation. Well, didn't I read somewhere that he ran away from England years ago to marry a PG witch or something? Far more likely, though, that he ran away from England to escape your wife. Great, Scott. Did he know, maybe, how to speak fair and hyperbole? Oh, naturally, naturally. No half-ceasing, huh? No, no, no. Well, I file a tin to all the formalities, the certificate registrations, the registrations. Well, good day, Mr... Oh, there's a letter under the door. It's the Henley leak, it says. This must be for you. Thank you again, sir. Oh, that's a thought. That's a thought. The letter had been posted in the suburbs in Putney. The handwriting was obviously a woman. Mr. Farle opened the envelope and read the contents. The honest leak, I think, the photograph you sent me is most gentlemanly, so I enclosed one of mine. I'm glad your gentleman has decided to come back. I'm going to the bar, and I shall please the meeting you suggest. How about outside the Empire Music Hall on Saturday evening? In case my photograph is too flattering, I shall wear red roses in my eyes. Yours sincerely, Alice Chance. T.S. I am a widow of ten years standing. T.S. There are always a lot of dark spots in the Empire. I have no doubt you'll be able to gentlemen should. Excuse me. I merely mention it just in case. To a matrimonial bureau, Henry Leake had entertained hope that his return to England would not be lacking in moments of romance. Now, whatever Mr. Farle may have thought of that letter, other matters of far greater impact soon would it descend. The doctor had made rather a serious mistake. Henry Leake had died, but the name inscribed on the death certificate was Prime Farle, and Mr. Farle had made not the slightest effort to correct the error. To him it was a head and sent opportunity to escape knighthood and the pomp and acclaim that most certainly would follow. But even Mr. Farle, with all his awareness of his own artistic genius, had not counted on what his death would mean to England. The nation was plunged into mourning, and all day long London's noblest citizen came to view the earthly remains, now reposing in the royal room. It was one of the most enjoyable days that Prime Farle had ever experienced. And when the last of the mourners had departed, two gentlemen remained, one of them was Farle's cousin, Phelik Duncan. Now then, my good man, you're doubtful concerned about your future. You have never decided to give your mother's dowry, Joe, stop the nonsense, Phelik, and tell me who that tail-looking fellow is in there. He's Mr. Farle from the Undertaker's, and my name to you, sir, is Mr. Duncan. He's the only guy I can't go through with this. Mr. Farle's world has been located. It provides you with three pounds a week for life and extremely generous allowance. Now, if you call to my office next week... You kindly shut up and listen to me. I want to look at me. Don't you recognize me? All very difficult and stupid, I suppose, but the truth is that I'm not Henry Leek at all. I'm, uh, Priam, cousin Priam. Are you insane? Priam Farle's dear. That's Leek in there. They're burying the wrong corp. You know what is rather amusing at first? The doctor's ridiculous mistake, and all this is there making such a fuss about the... Mr. Farle. Mr. Farle. What is he talking about? Obviously, the man's suffering from shock. Oh, he was with cousin Priam for years. The tragedy's unbalanced. I'll go for the doctor. Why are you about it? You might look up that arse dealer. Clive Oxford. Tell Oxford that I'm idiot. Don't you realize that Mr. Oxford has been summoned to Westminster Abbey to assist with the arrangement? What arrangement? His Majesty has ordered that the remains of my departed cousin shall lie forever in the hallowed company. Call it off at once. You usually hear me say, I had one Henry Leek with an excellent value, but it would have been Westminster Abbey. But in my corner they come. I'm warning you, Leek. One more outburst. I told you the doctor made a mistake or I shouldn't have stopped it but it was Westminster Abbey. Yes, yes, yes. Of course. Now, why don't you sit down? I think there's some port wine in the pantry. I'll have some, my good fellow. Oh, Farle, forget the doctor. Get a policeman. This man's unhinged. I think you're a reasonable bird-brained consul. Take your hand off me. I'm warning you, Leek. I'll sell my life to the rest. Heaven's sake, get the policeman. Fyamphile had had quite enough. He booted his cousin, ran out the back door and disappeared. If his own flesh wouldn't listen to him, well, let them bury Henry Leek in Westminster Abbey. Three days later the services were conducted and since it was his own funeral, Fyamphile had an understandable desire to attend. Fyamphile, however, had no end to fish. Now, what's all this about? It's Fyamphile's false myth of allowing him to enter the Abbey. Well, what about it? You've got a ticket, Dan. What did you call me? I said, Ed, you've got a ticket for the funeral. No, since whether the guest would rather have to have a lunch, if you ask me. Who asked you? Have you no shame? Don't you realize what's going on in there? Yeah, you. Let's have a smell of your breath. I have not drunk nor have I the slightest intention of allowing you the privilege of smelling my breath. What's your name? I'm Ed. You're Ed Vaughan, haven't you? No. She's not the one that I care to give at the moment. Why, Mr. Lee? Your partner's made him stand aside, please. This man is drunk in disorderly. Mr. Lee doesn't drink. He was simply overcome. I expected no one. There was such a lot. Thank you, madam. And what loss was that, if I may ask? Goodness, don't tell me. You don't know he is. He's drunk. He's drunk. Goodness, don't tell me. You don't know he is. Where? Mr. Prime Farrell's ballot. That's who he is. For 25 years, Mr. Farrell never made a move. Never a decision. Never had a book without the talking it over with Mr. Lee. Yeah, but he's got no ticket. Then one more shame. After the best years of his life. Giving every satisfaction and what is his reward? No ticket for the funeral. Well, why didn't they tell me? Because I don't like policemen. Mr. Lee is a very shy man. Oh, I'm very sorry, sir. No, sir. No, I'm not mean, sir. Would you like me to take you in, sir? No. I've lost all interest. Well, you can ride along with the lady then. Thank you, Sergeant. And you hope you don't think I felt this was necessary. Luncheon, I mean. And I don't actually think this. Oh, nonsense. Mrs. Chalice, nonsense. Are you proud of something that you write on the menu? Strange. Do you think it's your order, madam? I think I'll have some of this. That, madam, is the name of the selection the orchestra is playing. Not much nourishment in that. When you order for me, Mr. Lee, can you eat anything at all? Well, let's start with order. Then we better have a way, sir. You did that. I suppose I insulted him. Oh. Just look at these surprises. Well? Are you sure you can afford? Oh, yes, of course. See, they give you your money. My money? Oh, I can do it, you know, no matter what happens. Oh, yes, I was provided for in the will. Well, it doesn't matter. I think we don't want you to be extravagant for my sake. There's no call for it. I'm just as I am. Just did you see me now? And no amount of foolish spending would affect me one way or the other. You understand, don't you? Of course I do. Would you be good enough to tell me now how you recognized me? Oh, very easily. You're exactly like your photograph. I am. Oh, I know you at once. But the beard, of course. And also your shyness. I have a photograph right here on my face. See? But this photograph is... The two of you, yes. You and poor Mr. Fowle together. Oh, yes, I see. I see I wrote an inscription. Don't you remember writing it? Oh, of course I do. I am my gentleman, explicitly yours, Henry. I think it's very good of you. You're a very imposing thing, you know. Almost dashing on my face. Am I indeed? Wazer, come here at once. Wazer, Mr. Lee is speaking to you. It was that England buried Henry Lee Fowle in Westminster Abbey. And so it was that Priam Fowle met Alice Chalice, luncheoned with her, and later inspired her home to a pretty little house in Putney. Why, this is just delightful. It's delightful what more you grew an excellent cup of tea. I can't get over that, Wazer. Why, such pride is a scandalous, and that fish. There is no more soul in your bowl of that. Dear me, I thought it was rather tasty. But anyone who has been used to good cooking for that, you haven't told me yet, but I fancy you never be married. No, I haven't. You've always lived like this, just saddling about with no home and nobody take care of you properly. I won't get accustomed to it. Yes, I can understand that. No responsibilities. I can understand that too. But I do feel sorry for you all these years. Tell me about Mr Fowle. Well, the truth of the matter is that Priam Fowle, for all his magnificent talents, was not a happy man. I suppose not, for a family. All he wanted, actually, was to paint him to be left alone, but that didn't seem to be possible in London, and he loved London very deeply. For instance, Priam Fowle, God rest his great tormented soul. Would anyone have been allowed to enjoy it today? There's a painter right there, Alice, essentially a simple fellow, a wetman, and he should live as such, enjoying the frugal wages, the coarse comforts and the humble pleasures of the honest craftsmen. It was Priam Fowle who would have loved this. It all just goes to show. What does it all go to show? Why do you all say that if I wrote a matrimony, I'd be cheated. Oh, yes, a matrimony of pure Alice. How are you? If you want to get married, it's known as pretending you don't. There's no shame in wanting to get married. It's sensible, and it's normal. And in such a case, a matrimony of pure, oh, it's a good, and useful institution. What if you were to ask me, I just... I don't have to ask. You thought so too, evidently, and so do I. And I'm sure that anything comes of this, I'll pay the fee with the greatest of pleasure. What about you? Well, you are a most unusual woman. Really, right? A most unusual woman. I said, what about you and me? The fee? The greatest of pleasure. A matrimony in a moment. Make a friend, and you make an ally. There's a thought for you to keep in mind as many another American has. Lewis Cass knew how important friendship is. In 1836, he resigned as Secretary of War to accept the post of Ambassador to France. It wasn't too long after his arrival there that he became friends with King Louis Philippe. What making friends with the French people was another story. Anti-American propaganda had been too well planted over the years. But one day, Cass witnessed a street fight with the appearance of armed troops the fighters fled, leaving a group of bystanders about to be fired on. Stepping out in front of them, Cass told the commanding officer that he as well as the Frenchman with him were innocent spectators and that to fire on them would be murder. The officer apologized and ordered his men to put up their guns. The incident marked the beginning of Louis Cass' friendship with the French people. Gradually, despite the attempted smears by other nations, Cass strengthened the understanding between his country and France. And he was eventually responsible for the treaty by America, France and England, a treaty which guaranteed freedom of the seas to all nations. Once more, an American had proved to the world that by helping others, you helped your country. Now our guest producer, Mr. Kerry Wilson, act two of holy matrimony, starring Charles Lawton as Prime Pharl and Faye Bainter as Alice. Since that memorable day when I stood in Weston to add the under the impression, along with the rest of the British Empire that I was witnessing the burial of Prime Pharl. Prime Pharl was not only alive, but under the name of Henry Leake was now married and with a charming wife living blissfully in Putney. And then one day, visitors arrived. Mr. Henry Leake, yes? And you're not going to keep us out? Walk right in, mother. What's on Earth? Now where is he? Never mind where he is. Who are you? No, where is he? Who are we here? I'm his wife, ma'am. I'm the wife of the Mrs. Leake. And Ari and Martin here are Henry's family. And did you have a nice girl, sweetie? We have visitors, Henry. Old friends of yours, they say. Well, don't you recognize her? And lovely. I'm afraid that you have the advantage, madam. Thirty years. Thirty years does make a science in one's head. She says she's your wife, dear. And these young gentlemen are your two sons. Quit him! That isn't possible. It's the beard, of course. And you are every of your enemies. But your eyes are your eyes that justify... Madam, I have never had the debatable pleasure of ever seeing you before in my entire life. Then how do you explain this, ma'am? A marriage certificate. Father Steele, you dare refer to me as your father. Look, that's the paper. It means nothing to me, whatever. You will not deny that your name is Henry Lee. I deny everything, no matter what you say I deny it. Are you sure you recognize my husband? Well, I can't be sure if I recognize him exactly. He was only 23 when I saw him last. But he's the same sort of man. And his eyes are there that... Then examine my nose. Oh, please recognize that author. Go on, look closely. Do you? Well, I can't say I remember it being so lonely. Can a man change his nose? All flesh is glass. This discussion does not concern glass. But you were a bullet to a gentleman. Now, Mr. Crimefile, the painter, weren't you? Well, uh... Well, that's what my husband was doing. Last time I heard of him. That, I repeat, I not only deny everything that has been said, but also everything that will be said, and now I shall take my leave of this absurd. Oh, no, you don't. Oh, well, now we can all have a nice cup of tea. There you are, Mrs. Leap. Thank you, I'm sure. Well, I hope it's a way. Oh! See, how could I be so clumsy? Hang your drink. Oh, my! How can they get me a cloth from the kitchen very now? Ah, yes, by all means. Oh, you stand over the fire, Mrs. Leap. You dry out in a jiffy. Oh, dear! And you, sir? I'll, uh, pour my own if you don't mind. Sugar? Two sugars. I see. Isn't he coming back? Who, Father? I shouldn't think so. I imagine he's gone for a stroll. He usually does, you know. That's rather strange. He was getting her cloth. He, uh, rather peculiar, man. Oh, yes, he's good point. But now that he's gone, well, no father yet would need to say a word against him. He's often quite kind to me. But there's no denying. Ah! You mean that he, once he twisted my arm terribly, and one morning, slouched up iron off of my hand, and he looked at me. I know all that you can tell me. I know because I've been through it. Then he's not changed in all these years. You know, sometimes I don't think he's quite right in their shoes. I tell them get up in the morning without thinking that perhaps today you'll have to be taken off. I can't hop to the asylum. Oh, I am sorry for you young men. Sorry? Sorry if you're his son. It's the same blood. Oh, I should watch myself very carefully if I were you. Oh. You're wanting back, of course, because you have first claim on him. Yes, of course. You can make him see his duty. You're quite welcome to him. In fact, the main fee should be prosecuted for bigamy. Oh, by all means. Although, you are a student. Are you? We are both honor students at a seminar. A seminar? Oh. I don't suppose it was neither. Oh, would it? A father in prison for bigamy? Let's get out of here. Come along, Mother. We are going home. It's all right, isn't it? You can come in now. That is, I give you my word about right, ever since I was a woman before in all my life. Of course not. I don't blame you for this. Darling, did the gentle believe me? Of course, dear. I mean, I hope there won't be many more of them. Great scum! Who do I? That was the last of Mrs. Leek and her two strapping offspring. But, by and far, now I had a rather good idea that Mrs. Leek had been so anxious to confess to him. Well, another calm and happy year rolled by, and then Alice received a letter in the mail. I wish you'd look at this, Henry. It's a business letter, dear. What? Cajun's Brewery Company? That's where I had my money left. Dear Cheryl, going to a lamentable temperance wave, which has been sweeping the country, Cajun's Brewery Company has been able to declare its customary annual dividend on ordinary shares. Well, it seems to me they're not declaring a dividend. Oh, that's not a good question. I have my dividend. I may, too. This is terrible. How on earth can a Brewery have financial trouble? That's just what father used to say. Put your faith in an Englishman's thirst. It's gold in the bank, he said. And the everything we have is in Brewery's shares. Well, it's still my few pounds a week. Bless your heart, darling. I need much more than that. It's a payment on this house and it's doing me. Alice, if we can't meet the payment, doesn't mean we shall have to get out. Oh, no. Are the houses, Henry? Not for me. This is the house I like. This is the house I'm happy in. Alice, I refuse to move. Where's the whole month yet? I could earn some money, you know. Henry, when do we? If you think I'd let you take another situation, you're very much mistaken. Well, what I have in mind, well, it does involve a certain measure of risk. Nothing crooked, Henry. I was thinking of painting. Oh, no, darling. I'd never have a minute's peace. You're much too old to go climbing up and down ladders. Not painting houses, Alice. Pictures. Now you smoke your pipe and read the paper, love. I'll go and get dinner. Don't you feel well? There's nothing wrong with my health, Alice. It saves the normal ravages of time, sin and a petrified liver. And the point is that I have to tell you something. Alice, my name is not Henry Leek. Oh, it isn't. But what does it matter as long as you haven't committed a murder or anything? My real name is Priam Fowl. Doc, wasn't that your gentleman's name? Alice, listen to me carefully, dear. When Henry Leek died, the doctor made a mistake and didn't correct him because I didn't want to be Priam Fowl any more. In fact, I was downright sick of being Priam Fowl, and I tell you this so you'll understand when I say that I can paint and make a little money that I'm not being altered in a balmy. Then Henry Leek is buried in Westminster, Alice. That is a somewhat quaint fact, my angel. And you never said a word about this to anyone? Not to anyone who'd listened. Now it was sweet of you to tell me all about it, and I understand the whole thing. You know what I'd do if I were you. I'm not the loony, if that's what you've got in your mind. If I were you, I would never again mention a word of this to any of us. I'd just forget it. There's the truth. And above all, you must stop worrying about this. Not at all, Alice. I'll prove it to you. I'm not questioning it. All I'm saying is that he doesn't mention it. No, I refuse to live the rest of my days as foolish, filth-of-village idiot. But Henry Leek... I have incontroversible evidence of my true identity, Alice, you and I are going up to the attic. But what's in the attic? In other words, you see for yourself. Come along. Well, my goodness. Will you just look at this attic, painting all over the place? I have a confession, sweetheart. I can't live unless I've paid service since I've been married. You've sneaked up here and had your last of fun. Well, not always up here. It was about town, anywhere I could find something that I wanted to put on canvas. How, uh, how does this one strike you? It's just lovely. What is it? What is it? Uh, quiet. It's a bridge, isn't it? It is. Oh, now that's a curious day. I am a hanker. Oh, it is very nice. It's very nice indeed. Thank you. And it's a pity you didn't put an omnibus on the bridge. But there is an omnibus on the bridge. Oh, very? Oh. There. It stopped, I suppose. Yes, dead still. But it's very nice, isn't it? I suppose you learned from your gentlemen, Mr. Paul. Alice, who would it surprise you to know that this canvas is worth at the very least 1,000 pounds? Yes. Emily, love, don't you realize that you can get real pictures of lakes and even mountains by real artists of two pounds apiece that the brain makers. Two pounds dashi, that is. I've got 2,000 things, not nearly as good as this one. Darling, I don't want you to worry like this. We'll get plenty somehow. Please, please, don't worry. And no matter what happens, I'll always take care of you no matter what. No, thank you. Thank you, my sweet dear. Come on, then. And I'll never let them take you away. We're going to the frame makers. I'm going to prove this to you once and for all. Good day, sir. Something in a picture frame? Here within this wrapping is a painting, and I want you to tell us what you think of it. Well, I can hardly claim to be an expert, sir. You are vaguely familiar with oil paintings, are you not? Very well. What about this one? Well, now. Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes. Uh, might I ask where you acquired this? No. Well, very good. Is it a copy? Is it? It's either a copy or a remarkable imitation. You'll be good enough to put a price upon it. Two pounds. What? A five. A ten? A new game. Ten pounds for it. Yes, madam. That'll be all, thank you. Oh, really? Come along, my love. Fifteen pounds. Oh, in this, fifteen pounds. Do you suppose he's crazy? Mad as a marcher. In the weeks that followed, Alice spent many troubled moments up in the attic. She studied the painting for the utmost charity, but it was no use. Alice simply could not understand how a man in his right mind would offer fifteen pounds for anything so amateurish. But fifteen pounds was fifteen pounds so unknown to her husband. Alice began selling his paintings to the frame maker. In turn, he sold them to me. But then developed an unhappy situation that left me no alternative but to visit the artist in his home in Putney. I will tell you again, Mr. Oxford, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. Well, then, suppose you look at this painting I bought along. It's called The Bridge in Putney. Now, in my opinion, it's one of the finest files in existence. Well, it is a masterpiece, of course. I've been offered five thousand pounds for it. What did you pay for it? Twenty pounds. Now, if I may be seated, Mr. Leet, I'll attempt to explain my rather peculiar difficulties. Some time ago, a man named Storley, a frame maker here in Putney, came to me with the painting which I recognized at once as the work of Priam Farwell. What kind, of course? No. But Priam Farwell could not put brush to canvas about signing it intelligibly with his genius. So, of course, I bought it for twenty pounds. How much did you sell that one for? Two thousand pounds. Altogether, I bought some thirty pounds from the frame maker for which I have received a total of about sixty thousand pounds. Art, I see, is a very profitable business for the D-Labs. In this case, it can also be very profitable for the artists. And now that I have found them, I shall be delighted to give them a share. Shall we say thirty thousand pounds? In other words, you've been caught. Well, there is a pending legal action. Lady Vale, who bought most of the paintings, has just discovered that some of them have been painted since nineteen hundred and five. That's the year that you're supposed to have died. She's charging me with thought. Excellent. I hope she wins. This is absolutely... No time for levity, Mr. Farwell. Leek, if you please. Henry was worth leek. Sir, I have no intention whatever of being destroyed through some fantastic error in Westminster Abbey. Whoever it was buried, it was not Priam Farwell. You dare question the Abbey? You could question the crown before seeing my business ruin. How long may I ask if you've been suffering this art dilution? Oh, so far as the paintings are concerned, I have never been diluted. Mr. Oxford, I can scarcely find words to express my undone delight in your misfortune. You have swindled your customers, the frame maker and the artist who painted the picture. West of all, you have swindled the memory of that magnificent genius who lies today in England's Valhalla, for that I can never forgive you. You're not going to deny that you are Priam Farwell, isn't you? No. But if you think I'm going to admit it to anyone else and surrender my peace and happiness, merely to save your wretched hide and bank book you're greatly mistaken. From my opinion, sir, you're a double-died, triple-plated rogue and scoundrel, and I wouldn't have one finger to save you from sighing in tradition for the remainder of eternity. Good day to you, sir. No, no, please. Mr. Farwell. Leek, sir. Henry Green Leek, Leek. Next of holy matrimony will follow. You'll probably remember when the waves of the North Sea burst through Holland's dykes and turned a little country into a land of terror. It was Western Europe's worst flood disaster. More than 1,400 people were killed and over 60,000 were made homeless. The property loss was greater than that suffered during World War II. But America answered the call from the Dutch people within just a few hours, United States Army helicopters were evacuating hundreds from the danger areas. Mercy planes filled with blankets, coats, shoes, and food brought quick relief in the emergency. Among the many who contributed was the 82nd Airborne Division. They remembered the courage and the help displayed by the Dutch people when they parachuted into Holland in 1944. This one unit collected nearly 20,000 pounds of clothing and over $12,000 in cash for relief in the flooded country. Nevertheless, no official drive behind this operation it emerged right from the heart a spontaneous, genuine reaction to a country struck by disaster. It proved once more that in the hour of need people will reach across borders and oceans to help their fellow men. Such acts by you and your friends today are shaping our world of tomorrow. I had no particular wish either to annoy or embarrass a man who's genius I so admired. But I was facing a suit in a court of law. My attorney had no choice but to call on Mr. Powell and serve him with a subpoena. Dear, is the gentleman gone? Come in, Alice. Yes, he's gone. So now you know that I was loony, didn't you? About you weren't quite well. I shouldn't have done it, I suppose. But there were those paintings and a picture frame I gave me fifteen pounds for peace for them. I didn't want you worrying about me. You are a dear sweet girl. What's going to happen? Nothing, Oxford is going to be sued and all probability will be sent to prison. I hope. I told him flash late that I'd have nothing to do with it. You realize that he was making ten thousand percent of my work. Ten thousand percent. I had no idea percentages ran that high. I didn't know you wanted Alice. You've always been so much of a gentleman and so... so useless. Alice, what's the matter there? You surely don't think that this will make any difference between us? No. Why should it? Oh, I don't know. It's time to be angry. Or should I seek the prime? I've told you I have no intention whatever of getting mixed up in this business. Mrs. Prime Powell, the wife of a great gentleman, so great that he could be buried in Westminster Abbey. I don't know. I don't know how I'd be. Not much, I expect. Like I couldn't be a doctor for a bearback rider. I can't feel that I'd be much used to you anymore. That is the most ridiculous rot I've ever heard. Well, I might be uncomfortable or too ignorant. I couldn't stand that. Then we'll go away to Borneo or someplace like that. I just want to be with you. I don't promise. We'll see. Meanwhile, I expect there'll be a terrible fuss in the papers. I mean about the poor man in Westminster. Did I ask to be buried in Westminster? I never did, I'm sure. You didn't. Well, I ever asked this peace and quiet in the chance to paint the picture now and then, but no. An art dealer who my love gets sued for fraud and my life is made unbearable. Why? I don't know. So they think they can get me to help them in court. They will do just wait. You just wait for me. The trial began and a certain Mr. Pennington, the complainant lawyer, enunciated the charges. It may be recorded. This is an action brought by a lady veiled who recovered a sum of 42,000 pounds paid by her to Mr. Clive Oxford for 21 paintings fraudulently represented to her as the work of the late Clarence Park, whose remains lie today in the hallowed hall of the Western's rabbit. But the possible consequences involved here are so monstrous that I shudder to contemplate them. As an imposter, a dalitist servant rest within those sacred pleasants, so self-repentant, he would have you believe the prime file, rather than being dead, is present in this very courtroom in the person of a certain bearded fellow whom it will be my pleasure to unmask as charlatan, rogue swindler, and a grave robber. The lord I'd like to call my first witness, Dr. Caswell, who attended the profile during his brief but fatal illness. Dr. Caswell, I guess I have to admit, I take it that you were Mr. Fowle's valet. And under the after that, doctor, he said, Yes, sir, I was. And is that the man to whom you serve, the bearded gentleman in the third row? Yes. That is the man. Mr. Fennigan's ex-witness was the master's consort. Now then, madam, how do you first meet your husband? Through a matrimonial agency. Who first had recourse to this agency? I did. With what object in mind? What do people usually go to a matrimonial agency? I shall ask the questions, madam. I simply thought you should have known that. I went to a matrimonial agency because I wanted a husband. How's that? Who do you think that was a nice thing to do? What do you mean by nice? Well, well, womanly, if you prefer. And do you think that asking a rude and unnecessary question is the gentlemanly thing to do? Under what name did this man write you? Luke, under what name did he marry you? Luke. Under what name have you lived with him since that marriage? Luke. Then in your opinion, what is his name? I can't tell you. You mean you don't know? Certainly, I know. What do you refuse to say? That is... My Lord! Madam, may I ask why you refuse to answer? For likeness, I should say. Indeed. My Lord, I feel that it would be a bit insurance of me to say who my husband is when the whole object of this trial is to decide that for me. The next witness is by and by the cousin, Samick Duncan. Now then, Mr. Duncan, you definitely recognise the man in the coffin, the man they're interning with, Mr. Abbey, as your cousin. Definitely. And as all my Lords, the opposition may examine the witness. Mr. Duncan, you were not on very good terms with the late Mr. Fowler, were you? We had one little tiff, sir. How long did that tiff endure, sir? About 45 years, I think. Do you remember the occasion for this little disagreement? As well as small boys, we had a fight over a plum cake. With what result, then? He loosened one of my teeth. What did you do to him? Well, if you will pardon me, my Lord, I tore off some of his clothes. You remember all this for 45 years? Oh, very well. I even remember... Well, you even remember what? I'm not sure that I care to say it in next company, sir. You may be the judge of that, Mr. Duncan. Well, when his shirt was torn, I clearly observed that Plyon had two moles on his person, two moles on his left collarbone. Well, say, very interesting. Now, was there anything distinctive about these two moles? Oh, no, just moles. I should say, plain, everyday sort of moles. That is all, Mr. Duncan. My Lord, I should like to call Mr. Plyon Farle to the witness stand. Mr. Plyon Farle, if you please. Well, I'll be around here and be polite. I haven't the slightest intention of being polite. I hate the word. Well, yes. And now that you have sworn to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, please state your name. Plyon Farle. Are you sure it isn't Henry Leake? Very well, it is Henry Leake. Which is it? Either. Well, what are you known as? Both. Mr. Leake. Farle is the correct name, the Lord. Very well, Mr. Farle. Aren't you interested in the just and equitable seduction of this action? I can't honestly say that I am, the Lord. But you're under oath. Exactly. Therefore, if I so much as hinted that I kept toughness for helping to any of these miserable money changes, I should be guilty of the most outrageous pleasure. Now, then. Oh, very well, my dear. Does anyone else wish to ask me something? I most certainly do. Mr. Fennick Duncan has testified that as a small boy, he fought with his cousin's friend. You would have thought to remember that. I fought with Fennick many times, utterly defeating him on each occasion. Do you also recall his discovery of two small moles on your body? Do you possess any such moles, Mr. Leake? I do. You do? Well, here, on my left shoulder. Then, of course, you'll be good enough to serve them to the court. No, I will not. Precisely. You understand, of course, the jury will do all the incompletions from what they say. Naturally. Perhaps you prefer to show them just the Mr. Pennington and to me. No, I would prefer not to do that either. Mr. Fennick, don't you think just the four of us might retire to my private womb? No, my lord, to thank you very much. Well, then, don't let your collar down a bit. Can't you do that much? Not a bit. Might I ask the reason for this obstinate attitude? My lord, I have testified on the oath that my body is afflicted with the moles described and that I believe should be sufficient since no sane man would claim moles if he didn't have moles. But, my dear sir, under the circumstances, my lord, it happens in this particular instance that the moles are situated in a relatively decorous precinct of my anatomy. Supposing that they were not so favorably located, would I still be in fortunes to unclose myself, Padre, to have the moles well-designed? I think so. We have heard enough for today. This course has adjourned until 10 o'clock tomorrow morning. It's very nicely, my dear, and thank you for being so polite. It isn't any use, you know. I mean, tomorrow? What can they do tomorrow? They'll call you back and simply ask you if I've got the moles. And if I tell them... The case is over. Goodbye to Putney, to peace and quietness and happiness. Goodbye to everything. Goodbye to me. Harris, I forbid you to even harbour such a fault with alone voices. It's all right, darling. I think I know now just what to do. The paper says he's being all but left out of the new boys' hands. Boys of London, Office 2 to 1. No moles. Vogue moles debated in the House of Commons. A medic complained record of 105 moles. And the following morning, Mrs. Leek was called to the witness box, but this Mrs. Leek was not Alice. You've just testified that your name is Mrs. Henry Leek. Yes, sir. You're not? Yes, sir. Now go on. But I'm the original. There are two of us there, but I am the original. May I ask where your husband is now? In the third row, sir. But he didn't love that beard when I married him. That's something else he's picked up. You're positive this is the man? Yes, sir. That's my Henry all right. Mrs. Leek, will you please tell the court whether that man had any, uh... Well, how do you need first box? No, sir. Now think this is Leek. How do you need, say, moles? No. Yes, did he have any moles? Where? Anywhere. No, sir. None at all? Is that correct? No, sir, not one. My Henry's complexion was to know there's a velvet. I often used to say to him, Henry, I'd say your skin is just like a velvet. Yes, sir. Mrs. Leek. Mrs. Leek, if you have anything to say, you will please step into the witness box. Don't go, Mrs. Leek. You have some additional testimony to give, Mrs. Leek. Yes. Sir, I'm coming here. Lord, I suggest that they put something in there. Don't pierce it. Just a minute, Alex. No, no, no. I want to do your shirt and collar. He's very sharp, you know. Now, if you'll just hold up your beard a bit. Yes, thank you, my boy. Now then, Mrs. Leek, if you will have a look, please. Oh. Oh, man. No, this velvet, eh? Are they real? Are they real? Well, my Lord, what do you think? Are they real? My client, Lady Bale, withdrew her suit and went home to cherish her 21 genuine and original files. And in what Mr. Abbey, certain alterations occurred whereby the earthly remains of Henry Leek were removed to let off vicious but more appropriate surroundings. As for prior file and Alice, well, they disappeared. Simply disappeared. Oh, once in a while I get a sweet note from Alice along with five or six more paintings. The address is a tiny island somewhere off the coast of New Zealand. Well, I'm waiting at the church, waiting at the church, waiting at the church. Luncheon, dear. Not a moment too soon. How is this going, the new painter? It's just another masterpiece as usual. What are we having for lunch? Kingdorough chops with crocodile sauce. Excellent, my dear. This would be excellent.