You were wise
not to tell your husband.

A successful marriage
is usually based

on what a husband and wife
don't know.

- Too frightened to eat, Mrs Sutton?
- I'm not hungry.

Waiting for the wretched blackmailer
to remove his mask?

What do you want?
- You mean... how much?
- Yes.

Well, I saved you
from an ugly scandal,

one that could ruin
your distinguished husband's career.

What an advertisement
for a psychoanalyst:

"Married unaware to a kleptomaniac".
And you would pay me to keep this
whimsical fact out of the papers?

- Now?
- Yes, now.

I can see I was never cut out
to be a villain.

I dislike inspiring so much terror
in such a lovely woman.

Please don't talk to me.
Oh, yes, I forgot,
you're buying my silence.

$5,000! Dear me, that's quite a sum,
considering that it's tax-free.

I take it you don't intend to report
this to Uncle Sam or your husband.

Very few wives
are in so fortunate a position

with a bank account of their own,
obviously a large one.

That's all I'll pay.
That's quite enough.

Isn't it?
You're rather disillusioning,
Mrs Sutton,

for the wife of so brilliant a man.
First for assuming you would get rid
of a blackmailer by giving him money,

secondly, and worse,
by identifying me as a nasty crook.

Here is your cheque, Mrs Sutton.
You've disturbed my vanity
rather deeply.

I always fancied
I had a fine, upright look,

and that an honest heart shone out
of my not-too-splendid face.

I'm joking, Mrs Sutton.
Please, Vincent is an old friend.
I wouldn't want him to think
I was on ogre

that makes beautiful
women cry into their soup.