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Good evening.
And thank you for allowing|me to come into your parlor.
It all happened so suddenly.
I was walking along|when I heard someone saying: "Knit one, purl one" and I came over to see|what she was doing.
The really frightening part is|that I forgot my hunting license.
Well, the show must go on|even though I may not.
Tonight's entertainment|is entitled The Legacy.
Through it you will journey|to Palm Beach and rub elbows|with the idle rich and members|of the international set.
But before we join|these useless playboys of a decaying society let us heed the advice|of a man who is earnest productive and steadfast.
A pillar|of our civilization and the sugar daddy|of television: the sponsor.
Palm Beach, where the sun|spends the winter and people spend fortunes|to be in it and in the society columns.
While walking out to the terrace|of my hotel, I was wondering which of the old regulars|I would run into first.
Cecilia Smithson|or Colonel Blair? I wasn't far from wrong.
I bumped|into both of them at the same time.
For heaven's sake!|Randy Burnside.
Welcome to Palm Beach.
My dear Cecilia, you are|looking simply ravishing.
Oh.
I had my face lifted.
It's|still painful when I smile but you know|skin stretches like rubber.
You know Colonel Blair? Yes, of course.
|How are you, Colonel? Glad to|welcome you aboard.
Do you have your boat|with you, Colonel? No.
Just my arthritis|and a deck of cards.
Sit down, Randy.
I'm sorry, this is Mr.
Randolph|Burnside the famous English author.
Irene Cole.
|How do you do? How do you do,|Mr.
Burnside? I warn you, Irene,|he's a very dangerous person.
He pretends he comes|to Florida for the sunshine but actually he's gathering|material for his next book.
I'm sure I'm safe.
Mr.
Burnside only writes sophisticated|stories about fascinating people.
I'm certain|you're all safe this season because I've already chosen|the subject for my next book.
He's the most fascinating|playboy, lover, sportsman.
And does he look|like a film star? Is he worth a million?|Does he have a title? Is he going to drive in the|Sebring sports car races and is he due|to arrive tonight? I've been following him|from Bombay to Biarritz and let me tell you, he's even|more fabulous than his reputation.
Who is this wonderful person? Now, Irene, really,|nobody can be this ignorant.
Who else could it be|but Prince Burhan? Burhan? He's that prince|from India, isn't he? The one who was deposed|in the riots two years ago? Yes, that's right.
Madame, may I prepare|your salad dressing? No, thank you.
Irene, dear, would you? I'd love to.
Thank you.
|Please don't get up.
Irene makes|the most delicious dressing.
Is she your new secretary? Randy, don't be silly.
She is Mrs.
Howard Cole.
You mean|the Texas-oil Howard Cole? Isn't it unbelievable? Is it my turn? mixed-doubles partner|I've ever had.
Well, look at|Beauty and the Beast.
Obviously,|I'm the former.
Randy, this is Howard Cole, Irene's|husband, and Miss Donna Dew one of the bright new stars|of Hollywood.
Randolph Burnside,|the English author.
How do you do? Mr.
Burnside, I'd give my right|arm if you'd write me a script.
A film about a girl|with one arm.
Sounds like|a box-office natural.
Donna, you're on vacation.
How did you|make out, dear? With Donna on my side|how could we lose? This girl can do anything|for my money.
I think you ought to|shower and change.
No time for that now.
We're|going fishing.
You're ready? I don't know.
The sun's|getting awfully strong and I promised my studio|I wouldn't get a suntan.
Mr.
Burnside, I- Mmm.
Irene, it's poetry,|sheer poetry.
Thank you, Cecilia.
But it's|such a perfect day for sailing.
I have a wonderful new cream|that'll protect your skin.
All right.
And I'll bring|your vitamin pills, too, dear.
Good, take these along,|will you, dear? All right.
We'll be at the landing.
|Right.
See you later.
I tell you, if your fishing's|as good as your tennis game Have you ever seen|anything more disgusting? You mean the way|the husband carries on? No, the way|Irene tolerates it.
Such angelic patience|it gives me indigestion.
I must say,|it's a bit nauseating.
What else|could the poor woman do? After all she knows|she's a mousey little thing.
She was lucky to have married all|that money and she'll hang on to it.
Marry all that money! Really, Randy, what's happened|to your infallible nose? Why Irene is 10 times richer than|Howard.
She's even richer than me! She is|Ruggles Bottle Cap Empire.
Every time anyone in America|opens a bottle Irene makes money.
Then why does she|put up with all this? Because, dreary as it sounds,|she's in love with him.
Isn't Miss Dew|beautiful tonight? My dear, the complete female|population of Palm Beach has put on|the war paint tonight.
They're all waiting for|Prince Burhan to appear and I can hardly wait to see|which one will be the lucky winner.
I hope it isn't Miss Dew.
Howard is|having such a pleasant time with her.
Darling, really,|the way you talk I'd swear you were|his mother not his wife.
I just can't convince Cecilia that|Howard and I are very happy together.
Most married men|develop hobbies.
Some play golf,|others collect stamps.
Howard collects beautiful|women.
How original of him.
I admit that during the|first years of our marriage I used to get upset.
When I realized his flirtations|were harmless, I got over it.
I give up.
I think Mrs.
Cole has|unusual wisdom for her age.
Thank you, Mr.
Burnside.
|Hi.
Colonel,|you should be dancing much better|for your arthritis.
Wow! Prince Burhan,|I'm so glad to see you.
Remember we danced|in Acapulco? We must dance again|in Acapulco.
Excuse me.
|I see a friend.
Burnside,|I'm glad to see you.
I had a slight suspicion|I would find you here.
The world is getting smaller|everyday, Your Highness.
Will you honor us|with your company? I hoped you'd ask me.
Prince Burhan.
Cecilia|Smithson.
How do you do? Colonel Blair.
|How do you do? A little import from|Hollywood, Miss Donna Dew.
Hello.
Mr.
Howard Cole.
|It's a pleasure.
And Mrs.
Cole.
A chair|for His Highness.
The chef has prepared a special|dinner for Your Highness.
Thank him for me, but I|have had dinner on my plane.
We'll have some champagne.
The|same as my friends are having.
Yes, sir.
I hope you win the races|at Sebring, Your Highness.
Thank you, Miss Dew.
Did you ship|your car ahead? No, it is due to arrive|on my boat tomorrow.
I flew here|straight from Deauville.
All by yourself? No, Madame Smithson,|I brought my co-pilot my staff|and two English mechanics.
May I have this dance,|Mrs.
Cole? You want to dance|with me? If you will do me|the honor.
But I haven't danced|for years.
I'm a very poor dancer,|Your Highness.
This is just a rumba,|madame, not a contest.
If you don't mind, Mr.
|Cole? Of course not.
Donna, how about|a little exercise? His Highness is in|a generous mood tonight.
Generous? You mean lavish,|my pet.
Do you like sailing? Not really.
|I'm a nuisance on a boat.
You play golf?|No.
Tennis?|No.
You ride the horses? I'm afraid my activities|are very limited and ordinary.
I look after my husband|and our home in New York I cook, I knit, I read.
But you do eat|and walk and talk? Well, yes.
Very well.
|We'll lunch tomorrow and after lunch|we'll have a walk and while we walk,|we'll talk.
All right.
But if you find something more|exciting to do, I'll understand.
Well, there goes|the daily bouquet.
Five dozen red roses|every morning.
Irene's suite must look like|a funeral parlor.
The Prince is carrying|this joke too far.
This stopped being a joke|days ago.
Really? What's the|latest explanation? We're back at the mother|complex.
Ridiculous! No man dances every dance with|his mother, night after night.
Well, it certainly is|the most bewildering romance.
A young, rich,|handsome prince captivated by a not-so-young|and extremely ordinary housewife.
Why, I ask you? Why? Perhaps|he's attracted to her.
Poppycock.
Irene's a dear but|she couldn't attract a mosquito.
They've achieved|one thing, anyway they've made|Howard Cole ridiculous.
Morning, everybody.
|Hello.
Have I interrupted|something? Not at all.
We're just|talking about your wife.
You mean the attention she's|getting from the fabulous prince.
Aren't you worried?|Worried? About what? About what we're saying|behind your back.
Of course not.
|Irene and I are used to that.
We also understand and|trust each other completely.
Excuse me.
Donna is waiting|at the tennis court.
There they are.
Make a fist, please.
Burhan.
Your feet are much larger|than Howard's.
Must you always bring him|into the conversation? He's my husband.
Believe me, if I didn't know|it I would never guess it.
Obviously he's the only one|in Palm Beach who is not aware|of our relationship.
That's because he's the|only one who understands it.
I see.
And what, may I ask,|is his interpretation? Howard feels that you're fed|up with the usual affairs that you're looking for quiet,|undemanding company.
How dare he insult you? But it isn't an insult.
It's|the only logical explanation.
I must say I was very grateful|and relieved to hear it.
Your unexpected attention rather unsettled me,|as I'm sure you noticed.
Why should it unsettle you to know|that a man is attracted to you? Because I'm not blind.
There are|too many mirrors around this place.
I have no idea what you see|when you look into a mirror.
I can only tell you what I see|when I look at you.
You were attractive to me|from the very first moment.
Since then I have had|a chance to know you.
Now every time|I look at you I see the most wonderful woman|I have ever met.
Please.
|Burhan, have a heart.
I do.
A heart|full of love and desire.
I love you, Irene.
No, Burhan! Stop it.
Love me.
I will make you the|happiest woman in the world.
Just think about it.
From where I was sitting it|looked like a lovers' quarrel.
Mr.
Burnside,|you must help me! You're a writer|and you know Burhan.
What's the matter? Has he upset you? No.
It's just that I don't understand|him.
It doesn't make sense.
I'm embarrassed|to tell you but he says|that he's in love with me.
Why should that|embarrass you? I'd hoped|you'd be honest with me.
Look at me.
|I'm ordinary-looking I'm over 30,|I'm not amusing.
I'm just not the type a|prince would fall in love with.
Let me ask you this: Do you get|any pleasure out of being with him? That's the disturbing part:|I do.
You see, my husband doesn't|have much time to spend with me.
Well, then, if I were you, I should|simply enjoy the Prince's company and let the devil|take the hindmost.
Thank you, Mr.
Burnside.
Burhan was clocked at 136 miles|an hour, unofficially of course.
Yes, Irene told me.
I hope|he wins the race tomorrow.
It's time for our poker game.
|Where's the Prince? Isn't he dancing?|No.
They must have gone to get Irene's|scarf.
She was getting chilly.
Thank you.
|To you.
Good luck to tomorrow's race.
|May you return safe and sound.
I've tried my best arguments to|talk myself out of loving you.
I couldn't do it.
Let's not start that|over again.
We can be good friends.
|Friends? No.
You are the only woman|I have ever loved.
Burhan, this can't go on.
|I just won't listen- I know you love me, too.
But|you're just too decent to admit it.
Your husband doesn't love you.
|He doesn't need you.
You will divorce him|and marry me.
I'm sorry, I've told you|all along I'm in love with Howard,|I'll never divorce him.
Listen, Irene, if you don't|marry me, I will kill myself.
Stop it! You don't know|what you're saying.
You have no right|to do this to me.
Very well.
May I kiss you goodbye? No, Your Highness.
If you've misunderstood my|feelings, I'm very sorry.
But I think it's best if we|never see each other again.
We won't.
I know we won't.
I say, forgive the intrusion,|my dear prince but Mr.
Cole is looking|all over the place for you.
You're supposed to be playing|poker with him.
Yes.
Thank you.
Well, what is it this time? He says if I don't leave|Howard and marry him he'll kill himself.
He's|getting to be a colossal bore! I told him|I never want to see him again.
And you were|absolutely right.
But suppose|he really meant it? What if he really|kills himself? I'd never forgive myself.
|I'd never get over it.
Irene, remember|what you told me yourself.
You're not the type a prince|falls madly in love with.
You're just a new kind of challenge|for him, and if he'd won you couldn't have hoped to|have kept him for very long.
Such a strange man from a strange country.
You know, if I'd met him|before I married Howard things might have|been different.
Why would he want to|drive a racing car on the highway|in the middle of the night? He'd been drinking.
He just wanted to cause a|sensation.
It was suicide.
Because of Irene,|that's ridiculous.
He left her|$28,000 worth of roses.
Mr.
Cole, I believe it will|be best to go out this way.
The lobby is full of reporters|and photographers.
I have a car waiting|at the back entrance.
Thank you.
|It's very thoughtful of you.
Look at that performance.
The Camille of Palm Beach.
She just wants|everyone to think he killed himself|because of her.
I hate to disillusion you,|ladies but that's exactly|what happened.
The Prince told her last night that if she|didn't leave her husband and marry him he would kill himself.
I spent the next three months|in Jamaica working.
On my way to see my publisher, I|stopped off at the scene of the crime.
Hello.
Mr.
Burnside.
You're in|Palm Beach in May? I'm just on my way|to New York.
I have finished my book|on Prince Burhan let me tell you|that as a writer I couldn't have hoped for|a more startling ending.
Sit down.
Do you really believe|that he killed himself because he was in love|with Mrs.
Cole? Of course I do,|I know he was.
He wasn't in love.
|He was bankrupt.
His yacht, his plane, his chateaus:|They were all over-mortgaged.
His bill with us is still|unpaid.
I don't believe it.
He couldn't have been broke.
I saw him win more than $28,000|the night he killed himself.
What's $28,000|for a man who owes millions? He was a true gambler.
And Mrs.
Irene Cole and her Bottle|Cap empire were his last chance.
You mean he was after her money? Yes.
And it's a pity|he didn't succeed he was such|a charming gentleman.
So when Irene|turned him down he took the easy way out.
No.
He didn't take it.
It was provided for him|by his mechanic who had the brakes of his|racing car disconnected never dreaming that he would want to|drive it in the middle of the night.
And it was a bona fide accident? Yes.
But of course these facts|were withheld from the press at the request|of the Prince's family.
They were anxious to protect|the royal reputation.
I know I can count|on your discretion.
Don't worry, I'm not going to change|my book, and I won't tell a soul.
Except one: Mrs.
Cole.
|She's entitled to know.
She must be told she had nothing|to do with the Prince's death.
She was so upset because|she felt she was to blame.
I'll make a point of going|to see her in New York.
How was the flight?|Very pleasant.
Thank you.
Good.
Irene will be|right here.
We're going to a charity affair|and she was late coming home.
How about a drink? Thank you.
She was dreadfully upset|after Palm Beach.
Couldn't sleep or eat.
Lost|interest in everything and everybody.
I was afraid of that.
But now, thank heavens, she's|just beginning to come out of it.
I've succeeded in getting her|interested in charity work and civic organizations.
|Thank you.
By the way, please don't|mention Burhan to her.
You understand.
|Of course.
Tell me,|have you seen Miss Dew lately? No.
I don't have time|for those things anymore.
Between my business and looking|after Irene, I have my hands full.
You know, I never realized|how much Irene really needs me.
How much|she depends on me.
Randy.
I'm so happy to see you.
Irene you look wonderful.
Thank you.
Dear, would you please|get my stole? Do you think that will be|warm enough, sweetheart? Please, do me a favor.
Wear|your coat.
All right, darling.
Howard's been|so kind and generous.
He gave me these|for our anniversary.
They are magnificent.
But he works too hard.
I begged him to take|a couple of weeks off just go to Honolulu by himself|but he won't do it.
Why don't you go with him?|I'd love to.
But I'm right in the middle of|a campaign for my pet charity.
Excuse me.
Hello.
Max.
Yes, I'm interested|in helping finance the play.
But first I want you|to do something for me.
I want you to audition a young actor|named Felix Forrest for the lead.
He's young|and very talented, I think.
Good, I'll have him call you.
|Bye, dear.
Did you finish your book|about Prince Burhan? Yes.
|I'm glad you wrote it.
He was strange,|passionate man lonely, misunderstood,|a great romanticist.
He should have lived|in another century.
Here you are, sweetheart.
Thank you, darling.
You're coming with us|of course.
No.
I've got|another engagement.
But you said you wanted to tell|me something very important.
Did I? I forget what it was.
It can't have been|very important.
We'll give you a lift.
There they were,|a happy couple and all because|they believed that Prince Burhan had killed|himself for love of her.
He had given them|a precious legacy who was I to rob them of it? Would you have? I suppose you're wondering|how I escaped.
Fortunately, my captor dropped|a stitch at a crucial moment.
In the event|you may have missed a few Freudian overturns|of our story I should like|to offer a brief explanation.
Irene Cole|was a compulsive knitter with a Madame Defarge complex.
Howard Cole was an extrovert, who|suffered from a regressive libido an Oedipus complex,|schizophrenia and an extremely|low sales resistance.
Prince Burhan's sports car was|obviously the symbol for his mother.
He always wanted|to drive her mad and the accident wasn't caused|by defective brakes at all.
The automobile|was psychosomatic it has since undergone analysis|and is now well-adjusted.
I hope this makes|everything clear.
And now before I return|my sponsor will indulge in a bit of symbolism|of his own.
For which I can offer|no explanation.
I hope you enjoyed that,|I know Freud would have.
Join us again next week when we|shall be back with another story.
Good night.