Abbott and Costello Meet the Killer, Boris Karloff

(laughs) You didn't dot the I.

Whew.

Hey Joe, who's this guy Strickland?

All you news hawks hanging around here,

half the guests are inquiring about him.

A fine hotel dick.

Don't you ever read anything outside The Racing Form?

Amos Strickland is the number-one criminal lawyer

in the country.

Why all the excitement?

Lawyers have visited the Lost Caverns before.

- Sure, but when the lawyer's Amos Strickland

and he postpones an important case to come up here,

something's cookin'.

Hold it, no pictures, boys.

- How about a statement for (mumbles) Herald?

No statement, and I said no pictures.

- Mr. Strickland, how long are you gonna be here?

- Come on, boys, break it up, you heard the man.

Beat it, go ahead.

Who is he?

You must be Mr. Strickland.

- Brilliant, you must be the hotel detective.

Jeff, Mr. Strickland.

Good evening, Mr. Strickland.

I'm sorry you were annoyed,

but you know how newsmen are.

Unfortunately, yes.

Tell Mr. Crandall I'm here.

I'm sorry, sir, Mr. Crandall's not in,

but I'll tell his niece you're here.

She's very anxious to speak with you.

- Young man, if I wanted to speak to his niece,

I'd ask for her.

The moment Mr. Crandall comes in,

tell him I want to see him.

Yes, sir.

Freddie, will you show Mr. Strickland to room 125?

Yes, sir.

Oh, my leg.

Be more careful, my good man.

I'm sorry.

- My umbrella. - Yes, sir.

Oh, pick up my bag.

Look, look.

Look at my glasses.

They're broken.

I'll have your job for this.

- Aren't you too old for this type of work?

I'll have you discharged, fired!

Pick up my bag.

Get out, you, you, you careless idiot.

Get out of here, get out.

What seems to be the trouble?

Who are you?

I'm Mr. Melton, the hotel manager.

Oh, you are, are you?

Well, look at my glasses.

Who's responsible for this?

- He is. - What!

Well, it's your fault.

If you hadn't come here, you'd never have broke 'em.

- I insist that you discharge this moron immediately.

- Take off that uniform and get out, you're fired.

Fired?

Okay, I'll go.

I wanna tell you something, Mr. Strickland,

I'll get even with you for this.

Every dog has his day, and I'll have mine.

I'm gonna make you pay for this.

Are you threatening me?

In words of one syllable, yes.

Pah, pah.

So you got fired, eh?

Yes, I did,

and I'm gonna tell you the same thing that I told him:

Every dog has his day.

- I'll show you to your room, Mr. Strickland.

Casey, bring the bags up.

- Who, me? - You.

The key please, Jeff.

This way.

Jeff, give me a hand, will ya?

Jeff, have you been demoted to bellboy?

No, just helping Casey.

They belong to the great Mr. Strickland.

- Jeff, I told you to notify me the instant he got here.

- He said he didn't want to speak to you, just your uncle.

Mr. Strickland's a man you don't argue with,

he just got Freddie fired.

Betty, I said Freddie's been fired again.

What?

Oh, Freddie.

I'll speak to my uncle.

Is there anything wrong?

Not a thing.

- My key, please. - Yes, Mrs. Grimsby.

Thank you.

- Mr. Strickland, I'm sorry I barged in like this,

but I really came in to apologize to you.

I'm sorry for the way I talked to you.

Really I am, Mr. Strickland.

And I'm also sorry, Mr. Strickland,

that I dropped the golf bag on your toes.

It musta hurt.

Mr. Strickland, there's somethin' else I wanna say.

I'm sorry I broke your eyeglasses.

Thanks a lot for allowing me to apologize to ya.

Mr. Strickland, now that I apologized,

would you mind tellin' Mr. Melton?

Mr. Strickland, don't you think it's better

if you go inside the next room?

There's a bed in there to lay down.

Hmm, it's a short walk.

Mr. Strickland.

Don't you feel well?

Uh-oh, this guy's plenty sick.

Oh.

Whew.

He made it.

Oh.

What you need is air and plenty of it,

and I ain't gonna give it to ya

with a little handkerchief.

I gotta give you plenty of air.

Mr. Strickland, come on, will ya.

I gotta do somethin' to help you.

Come on, I, I want.

Blood.

Blood.

He's dead.

Who did it, Mr. Strickland?

Gee,

that's funny.

I always thought that if I was in a room

alone with a dead person,

I'd be scared.

Ha, ha.

But, Casey!

Hey, Mr. Melton, come on. - Where?

- How you feelin'? - Casey!

What's going on over here?

What's the matter, Mr. Melton?

This idiot just attacked me.

Take him out of here before he kills somebody.

- Oh me, I didn't do it, I never killed anybody.

I just happened to find the body,

he was dead before I even got there.

- What body? - Who's dead?

What are you talking about?

Mr. Strickland, he's been murdered.

Murdered?

Yeah.

- Impossible, we don't permit murders in this hotel.

- Ah, Mr. Smelton. - Melton!

- (stammering) The poor man, he's dead, dead, dead.

I walk in, tip my hat, (stammering).

Come here.

Excuse me.

Th-th-th-there he is.

- He is dead. - Sure, he's dead.

I been tryin' to figure how to say that he's dead.

I'll see ya later. - Wait a minute.

Walk away, and nobody touch that body.

Touch it, I don't even wanna look at it.

- Not a word of this to the guests, we must keep it quiet.

- Maid, you'd better leave an extra sheet for Casey