"Give me your hand. Give me your hand."

"It's because of this fear of heights I have, this acrophobia. I wake up at night seeing that man fall from the roof and I try to reach out to him, it's just..."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know. That's what everybody tells me."

"I have acrophobia which gives me vertigo and I get dizzy. Boy, what a moment to find out I had it!"

"Well, you've got it and there's no losing it. And there's no one to blame, so why quit?"

"You mean and sit behind a desk, chair-bound..."

"...where you belong."

"What about my acrophobia? What about... Now, suppose, suppose I'm sitting in this chair behind a desk, here's the desk, and a pencil falls from the desk down to the floor, and I reach down to pick up the pencil - BINGO - my acrophobia's back."

"Oh, Johnny-O."

"I'm a man of independent means as the saying goes. Fairly independent."

"Well, why don't you go away for a while?"

"You mean to forget? Oh now, Midge, don't be so motherly. I'm not gonna crack up."

"The things that spell San Francisco to me are disappearing fast... I should have liked to have lived here then — color, excitement, power, freedom."

"Is it a permanent, physical disability?"

"No, no. It just means that I can't climb stairs that are too steep or go to high places like the bar at the Top of the Mark. But there are plenty of street-level bars in this town."

"Scottie, do you believe that someone out of the past - someone dead - can enter and take possession of a living being?"

"My wife Madeleine has several pieces of jewelry that belonged to Carlotta. She inherited them. Never wore them — they were too old-fashioned, until now. Now when she's alone, she takes them out and looks at them, handles them gently, curiously. Puts them on and stares at herself in the mirror. Then goes into that other world, is someone else again."

"She'll be talking to me about something. Suddenly the words fade into silence. A cloud comes into her eyes and they go blank. She's somewhere else, away from me, someone I don't know. I call her, she doesn't even hear me. Then, with a long sigh, she's back. Looks at me brightly, doesn't even know she's been away, can't tell me where or when."

"How often does this happen?"

"More and more in the past few weeks. And she wanders. God knows where she wanders. I followed her one day, watched her coming out of the apartment, someone I didn't know. She even walked a different way. Got into her car and drove off to Golden Gate Park. Five miles. Sat by the lake, staring across the water at the pillars that stand on the far shore. You know, Portals of the Past. Sat there a long time without moving. I had to leave, get back to the office. When I got home that evening, I asked her what she'd done all day. She said she'd driven out to Golden Gate Park and sat by the lake, that's all."

"The speedometer on her car showed that she'd driven ninety-four miles. Where did she go? I've got to know, Scottie, where she goes and what she does before I get involved with doctors."

"Is she pretty?"

"Carlotta?"

"No, not Carlotta. Elster's wife."

"Yes, I guess you'd consider that she would..."

"I think I'll go and take a look at that portrait."

"Oh yes, I remember. Carlotta, beautiful Carlotta, sad... It was hers. It was built for her many years ago... by... the name I do not remember, a rich man, powerful man... It is not an unusual story. She came from somewhere small to the south of the city. Some say from a mission settlement. Young, yes, very young. And she was found dancing and singing in cabaret by that man. And he took her and built for her the great house in the Western Addition. And, uh, there was, there was a child, yes, that's it, a child, a child. I cannot tell you exactly how much time passed or how much happiness there was, but then he threw her away. He had no other children. His wife had no children. So, he kept the child and threw her away. You know, a man could do that in those days. They had the power and the freedom. And she became the sad Carlotta, alone in the great house, walking the streets alone, her clothes becoming old and patched and dirty. And the mad Carlotta, stopping people in the streets to ask, 'Where is my child?' 'Have you seen my child?' ...She died... by her own hand. There are many such stories."

"Well, I think that explains it. Anyone could become obsessed with the past with a background like that!"

"It's Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus. I had a long talk with that lady in musical therapy, Johnny, and she says that Mozart's the boy for you. The broom that sweeps the cobwebs away. Well, that's what the lady said."

"It's wonderful how they've got it all taped now, John. They've got music for dipsomaniacs, and music for melancholiacs, and music for nymphomaniacs. I wonder what would happen if somebody got their files mixed up?"

"What's this doohickey?"

"It's a brassiere! You know about those things, you're a big boy now."

"I've never run across one like that."

"It's brand new. Revolutionary up-lift: No shoulder straps, no back straps, but it does everything a brassiere should do. Works on the principle of the cantilevered bridge."

"It does?"

"An aircraft engineer down the peninsula designed it; he worked it out in his spare time."

"Kind of a hobby, a do-it-yourself kind of thing!"

"You'd better come over here by the fire where it's warm."

"What am I doing here? What happened?"

"Well, you fell into San Francisco Bay. I, uh, I tried to dry your hair as best I could. Your things are in the kitchen. They'll be dry in a few minutes. Come on over by the fire."

"It's lucky for me you were wandering about. Thank you. I've been a terrible bother to you."

"No you haven't."

"...You shouldn't have brought me here, you know."

"Well, I didn't know where you lived."

"You could have looked in my car. Oh, but then you didn't know my car, did you?"

"No, I knew which one it was. It's right outside here now, but I didn't think you wanted to be taken home that way."

"No, you're right. I'm glad you didn't take me home. I wouldn't have known you. Thank you. But I don't know you and you don't know me. My name is Madeleine Elster."

"My name's John Ferguson."

"A good strong name. Do your friends call you John or Jack?"

"Oh, John mostly. Old friends call me John. Acquaintances call me Scottie."

"I shall call you Mr. Ferguson."

"Oh, gee whiz, I wouldn't like that. Oh, no, and after what happened this afternoon, I should think maybe you'd call me Scottie, maybe even John."

"Then I prefer John... And what do you do, John?"

"Oh, just wander about."

"That's a good occupation. And you live?"

"Don't you think it's kind of a waste for the two of us..."

"To wander separately? But only one is a wanderer; two together are always going somewhere."

"No, I don't think that's necessarily true."

"Here I was born, and there I died. It was only a moment for you; you took no notice."

"A portrait. Do you see a portrait?"

"No."

"If I could just find the key, the beginning and put it together..."

"...to explain it away? There is a way to explain it you see. If I'm mad, that would explain it, wouldn't it?"

"Oh Scottie. I'm not mad. I'm not mad. I don't want to die. There's someone within me and she says I must die. Oh Scottie, don't let me go."

"I'm here. I've got you."

"I'm so afraid."

"Don't leave me. Stay with me."

"All the time."

"You're gonna be all right now, Madeleine. Don't you see? You've given me something to work on now! I'm gonna take you down there to that mission this afternoon and when you see it, you'll remember when you saw it before, and it'll finish your dream. It will destroy it. I promise you. All right?"

"There is something I must do, there is something I must do."

"There is nothing you must do. There is nothing you must do."

"I love you, Madeleine."

"I love you, too. It's too late."

"No, no, we're together."

"It's too late. There's something I must do..."

"No, there is nothing you must do. There is nothing you must do. No one possesses you. You're safe with me."

"No, it's too late. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It shouldn't have happened..."

"But it had to happen. We're in love. That's all that counts!"

"You believe I love you?"

"Yes."

"And if you lose me, then you'll know I, I loved you. And I wanted to go on loving you."

"I won't lose you."

"We are not here to pass judgment on Mr. Ferguson's lack of initiative. He did nothing, and the law has little to say on the subject of things left undone."

"Sorry Scottie, that was rotten. He had no right to speak to you like that. It was my responsibility. I shouldn't have got you involved. No, there's nothing you have to say to me. I'm getting out Scottie, for good. I can't stay here. I'm going to wind up her affairs, and mine, and get away as far as I can. Europe perhaps. I probably never will come back. Goodbye, Scottie. If there's anything I can do for you before I go? There's no way for them to understand. You and I know who killed Madeleine."

"Oh, Johnnie, Johnnie. Please try. Try, Johnnie. You're not lost. Mother's here... John-O, you don't even know I'm here, do you?"

"I got a call from Gavin today. It's funny. He sort of dropped out of sight during the war. Somebody said he went East. I guess he's back. It's a Mission number."

"That's Skid Row... isn't it?"

"Could be."

"He's probably on the bum and wants to set you for the price of a drink."

"Well, I'm on the bum; I'll buy him a couple of drinks and tell him my troubles."

"I heard that one before too. I remind you of someone you used to be madly in love with, but then she ditched ya for another guy. And you've been carrying the torch ever since. Then you saw me and something clicked."

"Why are you doing this? What good will it do?"

"I don't know. No good, I guess. But I don't know."

"I wish you'd leave me alone. I want to go away."

"You can."

"No, you wouldn't let me. And I don't want to go..."

"Judy, I want to tell you: these few days have been the first happy days I've had in a year."

"I know. Because I remind you of her. The one that's dead. And not even that, very much."

"No, it's you too, Judy. Something in you."