M

EXT. COURTYARD - CITY BLOCK - BERLIN, GERMANY - 1930 A.D. - DAY

FADE IN on a HIGH ANGLE - A group of children, standing in a circle, play a 
game. In the center of the circle, a LITTLE GIRL points her finger from one 
child to another in rhythm with the chant. 

				LITTLE GIRL 
			(chants)
		Just you wait a little while,
		The evil man in black will come. 
		And with his little chopper, 
		He will chop you up.
 
The LITTLE GIRL stops in front of one of her playmates and gestures for her 
to leave the circle.
 
				LITTLE GIRL 
		You're out.

The child leaves the circle and the game continues. 

				LITTLE GIRL 
			(chants)
		Just you wait a little while,
		The evil man in black will come. 
		And with his little chopper, 
		He will chop you up.

During the chant, we PAN OFF, past two coal-bunkers (revealing that we are in 
the courtyard of a block of flats), and CLIMB the face of the tenement block 
to show an outdoor balcony with washing hanging out to dry. A PREGNANT WOMAN 
appears, carrying a basket of laundry; she pauses when she hears the 
chanting, then leans over the balcony and shouts down to the children.

				PREGNANT WOMAN
		Will you stop singing that awful song...?!

But the chanting continues --

				PREGNANT WOMAN
		... Can't you hear?

The chanting stops.

				PREGNANT WOMAN
			(mutters to herself) 
		Always that awful song.

She walks off, carrying her basket. After a moment, the chant continues. 

				LITTLE GIRL 
			(chants, o.s.)
		Just you wait a little while,
		The evil man in black will come. 
		And with his little chopper...

We hold on the empty balcony for a long moment and then

					CUT TO:

INT. TENEMENT BLOCK - DAY

The FRONT DOOR of one of the flats.  The PREGNANT WOMAN with her basket of 
laundry struggles up the stairs and RINGS the bell. The door opens and a 
tired, haggard, middle-aged woman appears. It is MRS. BECKMANN. Behind her, 
we see a KITCHEN. The PREGNANT WOMAN hands the basket to MRS. BECKMANN and 
wearily wipes her brow. 

				PREGNANT WOMAN
			(sighing) 
		Oh, dear!

				MRS. BECKMANN
		What's the matter?

				PREGNANT WOMAN
		I'm always telling those kids to stop singing 
		that terrible murderer's song ... and they do 
		nothing but sing it at the top of their voices 
		all day ... 
			(pause) 
		As if we hadn't heard enough of that killer.

				MRS. BECKMANN
		Oh, leave them alone. As long as they're 
		singing, at least we know they're still there.

				PREGNANT WOMAN
		Yes, I suppose you're right.

The pregnant woman shuts the door for MRS. BECKMANN, leaving her alone in her 
flat with the laundry. MRS. BECKMANN puts the basket in a corner of her poor 
but clean kitchen, then bends over a tub of water and continues with her 
washing. A cuckoo-clock STRIKES. MRS. BECKMANN looks up at the clock, which 
shows midday. The RINGING of a church bell mingles with the cuckoos. MRS. 
BECKMANN smiles, straightens up, and wipes her hands.

					CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

A group of parents waits on the pavement outside the main entrance to the 
local school. Cars pass. The bell stops ringing as the children come out; one 
little girl waves and goes off in a direction different from her friends. It 
is ELSIE BECKMANN; she wears a satchel on her back and carries a string bag 
with a ball in it. When she comes to cross the road she steps off the curb 
without looking, a car HONKS at her and she hurriedly steps back onto the 
curb. A policeman stops the traffic and escorts her across. 

					CUT TO:

INT. MRS. BECKMANN'S KITCHEN - DAY

MRS. BECKMANN sets the table for Elsie's lunch. 

					CUT TO:

EXT. ANOTHER CITY STREET - DAY

ELSIE walks along the pavement of a busy sidewalk, bouncing her ball. She 
stops by a circular pillar of the sort used as a billboard and starts 
throwing her ball against it. We FOLLOW the ball and MOVE IN to show one of 
the posters: 

				10,000 Marks Reward
				WHO IS THE MURDERER? 
		Since Monday, 11th June this year, the 
		following have disappeared: the school-children 
		Klaus Klawitsky and his sister Klara, who live 
		at 470 Müller Street. Various evidence leads us 
		to believe that the children were victims of a 
		similar crime to that committed last autumn 
		against the Doering sisters. 

As the ball continues to bounce against the poster, the shadow of a man in a 
hat falls across the pillar: it is the shadow of the MURDERER.

				MURDERER (o.s.)
		What a pretty ball.

The shadow bends down. 

				MURDERER (o.s.)
		What's your name? 

				ELSIE (o.s.) 
		Elsie Beckmann.

					CUT TO:

INT. MRS. BECKMANN'S TENEMENT - DAY

KITCHEN - MRS. BECKMANN peels potatoes and puts them into a tureen. She looks 
at the clock. It reads 12:20. MRS. BECKMANN puts the lid on the tureen. She 
hears footsteps, goes to the door, opens it and looks up the stairs.

STAIRCASE - Two LITTLE GIRLS are going up. 

				MRS. BECKMANN 
		Elsie didn't come with you?

				1ST LITTLE GIRL 
		No.
 
				2ND LITTLE GIRL 
			(simultaneously) 
		No, she didn't come with us. 

MRS. BECKMANN watches from the doorway, as the GIRLS go on up the stairs; 
then she leans over the bannisters and looks down into the empty staircase 
well. MRS. BECKMANN shakes her head and goes back into her flat. 

					CUT TO:

EXT. STREET CORNER - HIGH ANGLE - DAY

A BEGGAR -- with a card hung around his neck reading "BLIND" -- stands on a 
corner selling balloons.  A paper windmill is stuck in his battered hat. The 
MURDERER and ELSIE stand in front of him, examining the balloons. The 
MURDERER WHISTLES, loudly and and a little off-key, the first bars of "In
the Hall of the Mountain King" from Grieg's 'Peer Gynt.' He buys a balloon in 
the shape of a huge doll and hands it to ELSIE who thanks him with a little 
curtsy. 

				ELSIE
		Thank you very much.

The MURDERER and ELSIE walk off as the BLIND BEGGAR pockets his money.

					CUT TO:

INT. MRS. BECKMANN'S KITCHEN - DAY

MRS. BECKMANN puts the tureen into a saucepan. The doorbell RINGS. Visibly
relieved, she rushes to open the door. On the doorstep stands the PAPERMAN.

				PAPERMAN
		Good morning... A thrilling new chapter, Mrs. 
		Beckmann! 
			(hands her the paper) 
		Passionate, moving, sensational ... 

				MRS. BECKMANN 
			(very wearily) 
		Good -- thank you. 
			(pause)
		Oh... just a moment, Mr. Gehrke.

She takes the paper and moves away. We STAY ON the PAPERMAN.

				MRS. BECKMANN (o.s.)
		Tell me, Mr. Gehrke... 

				PAPERMAN
		Yes? 

				MRS. BECKMANN (o.s.) 
		Have you seen Elsie?

				PAPERMAN
		Didn't she just come up the stairs?

MRS. BECKMANN comes back to the door to pay the PAPERMAN. 
 
				MRS. BECKMANN 
		No, she's not back yet.

				PAPERMAN
		Well, she won't be long now. 

He touches the peak of his cap and turns to go. 

				PAPERMAN
		Good-bye, Mrs. Beckmann. 

				MRS. BECKMANN 
			(not reassured)
		Good-bye, Mr. Gehrke.

She moves to shut the door but hesitates for a moment, then goes onto the 
landing and leans once again over the bannisters to peer down into THE EMPTY 
STAIRCASE WELL.

				MRS. BECKMANN 
			(o.s., her voice echoing)
		Elsie! Elsie!

MRS. BECKMANN, worried, goes back to her flat, closes the door and looks at: 

THE CUCKOO-CLOCK - It's now 1:15. The cuckoo strikes once. 

WIDE ANGLE - MRS. BECKMANN'S KITCHEN

MRS. BECKMANN is alone.  She opens the window and leans out, calling anxiously. 

				MRS. BECKMANN 
		Elsie! Elsie!

					CUT TO:

THE EMPTY STAIRCASE WELL

				MRS. BECKMANN (o.s.) 
		Elsie!

					CUT TO:

THE ATTIC LOFT OF THE BLOCK OF FLATS

Empty except for some washing hanging in the shadows.
 
				MRS. BECKMANN (o.s.) 
		Elsie! Elsie! 

					CUT TO:

THE KITCHEN TABLE

Elsie's empty chair, her clean plate, her spoon, and her folded napkin.

					CUT TO:

FAR AWAY - A PATCH OF SCRUBBY GROUND

From out of the undergrowth rolls ELSIE'S ball. It rolls to a stop. 

					CUT TO:

THE BIG, DOLL-SHAPED BALLOON

It floats up into the air and catches momentarily in some telegraph wires, 
until the wind shakes it free and carries it away.

					FADE OUT

EXT. CITY STREET - EARLY EVENING

FADE IN on A HIGH ANGLE of a sidewalk.  A CAR sits parked at the curb. A 
PAPERSELLER rushes by, waving the latest edition. 
	
				PAPERSELLER
		Extra! Extra! Extra! 

A passer-by stops him and buys a paper.

					CUT TO:

ANOTHER HIGH ANGLE of ANOTHER STREET where ANOTHER PAPERSELLER can be seen, 
surrounded by a crowd that urgently wants to buy his papers.

				PAPERSELLER
		Extra! Extra! New crime! Who is the murderer? 
		Who? Who is the murderer? 

					CUT TO:

INT. THE MURDERER'S ROOM - NIGHT

The MURDERER sits at the windowsill, his back to us, writing. He holds a 
cigarette in his left hand and still whistles the tune from 'Peer Gynt.' 

INSERT - THE MURDERER'S LETTER

The handwriting is a childish scrawl.

		'Since the police haven't published my first 
		letter, I am writing today straight to the 
		NEWSPAPERS. Keep up your investigations. 
		Everything will happen just as I have predicted. 
		But I haven't yet FINISHED.'

					CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT

A POLICE POSTER - Affixed to a brick wall.  In large letters, we can read...

				10,000 Marks Reward 
				WHO IS THE MURDERER?

The lettering of the rest of the poster is too small.  We slowly PULL BACK 
over the heads of a crowd gathered around the poster. General hubbub.

				VOICES OF CROWD
		Good God, here we go again ... It's terrible! 
		10,000 Marks ... The lettering is too small, 
		we can't read it all! ... Hey, read it out 
		loud, you, there in front ... Yes, read it ... 
		out loud ... 
			(reading)
		'The unknown murderer'... Let him read. Oh, 
		hey! ... Quiet! ... Shut up! ... 
			(reading)
		'The terror in our town has found a new'... 
		Oh, that's enough ... Stop it! ... 
			(reading)
		'victim'... Louder, we can't hear a thing.

The sound of the crowd CROSSFADES to the voice of an OLD MAN.

				OLD MAN 
			(reading)
		Certain evidence leads us to believe that the 
		murderer is the same as the one who has already 
		killed eight children in our city. We must once 
		more draw your attention to the fact...

					CUT TO:

HIGH ANGLE - CAFÉ TABLE

A group of middle-class men sit around it, smoking and drinking. One of them, 
the OLD MAN, reads aloud from a newspaper. In the middle of the table, stands 
a little embroidered nag,  the insignia of the club to which these gentlemen 
belong.

				OLD MAN 
			(reading)
		'...that the first duty of every mother, of 
		every father, is to warn their children of the 
		danger which always threatens them. Moreover, 
		because the danger is often hidden under an 
		attractive disguise, some sweets, a toy, fruit,
		can be the murderer's weapons...

				THE OTHER MEN
		Very true. Of course.

The OLD MAN stops reading to take a gulp of beer. His neighbor, a fat civil 
servant in a stiff collar, impatiently stuffs a huge cigar into a cigar-
holder.

				MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER
		Go on ... 
			(nervously)
		Come on now. Read on.

				OLD MAN
		Right, right ... 
			(reading)
		'...The anxiety of the general public is all 
		the greater, because police enquiries...'

As the OLD MAN continues to read, we see two of the other men at the table. A 
BALD MAN wearing pince-nez; beside him, a FAT MAN twirls a glass of wine in 
his hand. 

				OLD MAN (o.s.)
		'... have not yet finished. But the police find 
		themselves faced by an almost impossible 
		problem.' 

The BALD MAN nudges his neighbor and they whisper to one another.  The BALD 
MAN points his cigar at the MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER opposite him. The OLD MAN 
continues to read.

				OLD MAN (o.s.)
		'The guilty man has left no trace. Who is the 
		murderer?' 

The MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER opposite listens attentively. On his cigar-holder, 
we see the design of a naked woman.

				OLD MAN 
		'What is he like? Where is he hiding? No one 
		knows. And, yet, he is one of us. Your neighbor 
		could be the murderer.'

He lowers the paper. The BALD MAN and his companion stare with contempt at 
the MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER. On the table, the newspaper 'Tempo', with the 
headline: '10,000 Marks reward'. The BALD MAN grabs his glass of beer.

				BALD MAN 
		Yes, that's right.

HIGH ANGLE of the whole group.

 				MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER
		Why do you look at me, when you say that? 

				BALD MAN 
		You know very well.

				MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER
		What do I know very well? 

The BALD MAN, behind his glass of beer, leans forward and stares at his 
companion through his pince-nez.

				BALD MAN 
		All right ... think a bit. You'll find out. 

				MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER
		What are you insinuating? 

				BALD MAN 
		That I saw you going up the stairs, behind the 
		little girl from the fourth floor.

				MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER 
			(jumps up, shouting angrily) 
		What?! You're crazy, you dirty swine!

				BALD MAN 
			(also jumps up, shouting)
		Who's a swine? Me? Me? Or the man who chases 
		little girls? 

In the excitement, he loses his pince-nez. 

HIGH ANGLE of the whole group.

				MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER 
			(mad with rage)  
		You bastard! You swine!

				BALD MAN 
		Murderer! 

As the MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER tries to punch his opponent, two FRIENDS and a 
waiter intervene. General confusion. 

				OLD MAN
		But, gentlemen! ... Gentlemen! Gentlemen! 

They are separated. 

				MAN WITH CIGAR-HOLDER
		I'll see you in court. 

				BALD MAN 
		I'll see YOU in court.

				WAITER 
			(intervening) 
		Now then, gentlemen ... calm down. 

				ANOTHER CLIENT
		I didn't mean to ...

The HEAD WAITER, a CLIENT and the three FRIENDS go out. The SMALL MAN has 
been watching the row with fiendish glee. The BALD MAN continues to shout at 
his departing enemy. 

				BALD MAN 
		Slanderer ... trying to ruin my reputation.

					CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

In a comfortable bourgeois flat. The drawers of a chest have been pulled out 
and the contents scattered everywhere. Through the door we see a sitting-room.
 
				BALD MAN (o.s.)
		What a slanderer! What an awful man! 

A WOMAN appears at the doorway, in tears.

				THE HUSBAND (o.s.)
		And the police listened to him! ... They're 
		searching my house!

A POLICEMAN and THE HUSBAND come through the door into the sitting room.

				THE WOMAN 
			(weeping)
		How awful! ... Oh, what shame! 

				THE HUSBAND
		Searching an honest man's flat, because of an 
		anonymous letter. It's... it's...

				POLICEMAN 
			(calmly) 
		Mr. Jäger, calm down. We're only doing our 
		duty.

				THE HUSBAND
		When we never have a minute's peace? 
		Frightened about the children ...

				POLICEMAN 
		Look, it's for that very reason, that the 
		police have to follow every lead... Any man in 
		the street... 

					CUT TO:

EXT. THE STREET - NIGHT

				POLICEMAN (o.s.)
		... could be the guilty man.

In the street, a little OLD MAN of about sixty, wearing a bowler hat and 
spectacles with round, metal rims stops under a street lamp to read his 
paper. A LITTLE GIRL comes up to him, pushing a scooter.

				LITTLE GIRL 
		Could you tell me what time it is, please?

				OLD MAN 
			(very friendly)
		Yes, my child ... 

He takes out his watch. A few yards away, in front of a furniture shop, two 
shoppers, laden with parcels, look on. A WORKMAN with huge wide shoulders, 
wearing a cap, comes out of the shop, notices the shoppers' concern and also 
looks on as ...

... the LITTLE GIRL stands with the OLD MAN. The big WORKMAN approaches, 
menacingly, as the OLD MAN puts his watch away and bends down to the LITTLE 
GIRL.

				OLD MAN
		Now, my child, you must go home ... Where do 
		you live? 

As the LITTLE GIRL goes off on her scooter, the WORKMAN interrupts.

				WORKMAN
		What business is it of yours, where the kid 
		lives? 

				OLD MAN 
			(looking up, terrified)
		Excuse me? 

The OLD MAN looks up anxiously, through his pebbled-glasses, with great, 
round, scared eyes.  The WORKMAN, enormous, glowers down at him.

				WORKMAN
		What did you want with the kid?

				OLD MAN 
			(startled)
		But ... but ... nothing at all! And you, what 
		do you want with me?

The WORKMAN seizes his arm. Some people stop and gather round.

				WORKMAN 
			(seizing the OLD MAN)
		Just you wait and see. 

				OLD MAN 
			(struggling)
		Let go ... Let me go. It's a ... a ... an 
		impertinence!

				FIRST PASSER-BY
			(to the OLD MAN)
		What's going on? 

				OLD MAN 
			(to PASSER-BY)
 		It's an outrage!

				SECOND PASSER-BY
			(to the WORKMAN, off the OLD MAN)
		What does he want? 

				WORKMAN 
			(to OLD MAN)
		Don't get on your high horse. 
			(to SECOND PASSER-BY)
		First, he accosts children ... 

				ANOTHER BYSTANDER
		Punch his face in!

				WORKMAN (continues) 
		... and then, he comes on all high and mighty.

				OLD MAN 
			(struggling)
		Let me go, can't you? I didn't start the 
		conversation with the child.

				WORKMAN
		You wanted to get her alone, didn't you?

				FEMALE PASSER-BY 
			(violently) 
		Yes ... and then kill her like all the others, 
		right? 

Everyone joins in and starts shouting.

				CROWD
		It's the murderer! ... It's him! ... Hold 
		onto him. Call the police ... Of course, no 
		cops when you need them ... Oh, officer! ... 
		Officer! ...

Everyone hangs onto the OLD MAN. The crowd jostles and calls for a policeman. 

				CROWD
		Officer! ... Officer!

					CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREET - STAIRS OF A PARKED DOUBLE DECKER BUS - NIGHT

A crowd tries to board the bus.  The CONDUCTOR comes down the stairs pushing 
people out of the way.

				CONDUCTOR 
		Move along, please ... move along now ... stop 
		blocking the way.

Behind the CONDUCTOR, comes a POLICEMAN, leading a THIEF. 

				THE THIEF 
			(insultingly, to the policeman)
		You're good at catching pickpockets, that's all 
		you know how to do ... You'd do better to go 
		after the child murderer.

The dense crowd presses against the bus.  They've heard the thief mention the 
child murderer.
 
				VARIOUS VOICES 
		What? The child murderer? The murderer ... 
			(off the THIEF)
		That's him ... the murderer!

				POLICEMAN 
		Move along now. 
			(to the thief) 
		Come on now ... get a move on.

Hysterical cries rise from the crowd. Fists are raised. The POLICEMAN and his 
prisoner have difficulty forcing their way through and become separated by 
the angry mob. 

					DISSOLVE TO:

INT. MINISTER'S OFFICE - DAY

CLOSE - HEADLINES

The daily paper, 'General Anzeiger' -- the 'Tempo' section: 'THE MURDERER 
WRITES TO THE PAPERS.' Underneath, the MURDERER'S letter is reproduced:

		'Since the police haven't published my first 
		letter, I am writing today straight to the 
		NEWSPAPERS. Keep up your investigations. 
		Everything will happen just as I have predicted. 
		But I haven't yet FINISHED.'

A hand nervously holding a monocle passes over the paper. 

WIDER ANGLE - MINISTER'S OFFICE

The MINISTER sits at his desk, the newspaper spread out before him. He speaks 
into a white telephone, emphasizing his points by gesturing with his monocle.

				MINISTER 
		It's an unheard-of scandal ... What a 
		deplorable effect this will have on public 
		opinion, Inspector. It is a serious error, very 
		serious.

					CUT TO:

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY

In THE OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF POLICE, the CHIEF OF POLICE, an elegant man, 
sits at his desk. In one hand, he waves a pen; in the other, he holds the 
black telephone.

				CHIEF OF POLICE 
		But, Minister, we've no power to prevent the 
		murderer from writing to anyone he wants to!

The MINISTER'S reply is inaudible. A male SECRETARY passes some letters to 
the CHIEF OF POLICE and starts to leave. The CHIEF OF POLICE signs to him 
that he should read an entry in his engagement book. The SECRETARY does so 
and exits. 

				CHIEF OF POLICE 
			(into phone) 
		The guilty man is a mental case. He must get 
		pleasure out of seeing his actions reported in 
		the papers. We immediately got in touch with 
		the editors to obtain the original letter. The 
		laboratory is already busy on it.

CLOSE - A SET OF FINGERPRINTS

In the Police laboratory. The dossier of a certain Richard Ernst, known as 
'Four-Fingered Ernst.' PAN ACROSS the dossier to show the prints of the left 
hand, next to the right.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		Of course, it is almost impossible to find 
		usable fingerprints on a postcard that has been 
		through so many hands.

CLOSE - HAND WITH MAGNIFYING GLASS

Moving across a dossier. 

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		But we must try everything ... 

IN ANOTHER ROOM...

... of the police laboratory, a fingerprint is projected onto a large screen. 
Silhouetted against it, a police research assistant, using a magnifying 
glass, compares the projection with the dossier. 

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		... to find in our archives a clue or a trail 
		that will lead us nearer a solution. Then 
		we'll send the letter to the graphologist.

OFFICE OF THE POLICE ARCHIVES

The GRAPHOLOGIST (a handwriting expert) paces up and down dictating his
report to a SECRETARY.

				GRAPHOLOGIST
			(dictating)
		The very particular shape of the letters...
			(to the Secretary)
		Do you follow me?

				SECRETARY
		Yes.

				GRAPHOLOGIST
			(dictating)
		... indicates in this man a very strong and 
		pathological sexuality.

CLOSE SHOT of the letter.

				GRAPHOLOGIST
			(dictating)
		Some of the broken letters reveal an actor's 
		personality ...

					CUT TO: 

INT. THE MURDERER'S ROOM - DAY

The MURDERER looks at himself in the mirror and makes terrible faces.

				GRAPHOLOGIST (o.s.)
		... which can be indolent or even lazy.

The MURDERER spreads his lips and with his fingers and stares at himself.

				GRAPHOLOGIST (o.s.)
		On the whole, the handwriting shows clear 
		signs of insanity.

The MURDERER, lips spread, rolls his eyes to one side for a gruesome effect.

					CUT TO: 

INT. THE MINISTER'S OFFICE - DAY

THE MINISTER speaks into the phone. 

				MINISTER 
		Yes, yes, Inspector ... certainly. I don't 
		doubt your keenness ... the efforts of your 
		men ... But, all the same ... the results. 
			(annoyed)
		We must have results ... results.

The sound of the MINISTER'S VOICE continues as we CUT TO the CHIEF OF 
POLICE'S OFFICE. During the following conversation the frustrated CHIEF'S 
VOICE continues as images illustrate his words.

EXT./INT. SEARCH MONTAGE - DAY/NIGHT

				CHIEF OF POLICE 
		Minister, my men are only getting twelve hours' 
		sleep a week....

POLICE STATION  

Several tired policemen slump on benches. As two come in off their beats 
another two start to get up to go.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		... as well as searches on the spot, Minister. 
		They start their shift already tired. Don't
		forget this job is nervously trying -- 
		especially when the success rate is so low.

HOMICIDE SQUAD ROOM

The detectives sit around drinking, eating, sleeping.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		The homicide detectives work restlessly.
		They're always on alert, following any clue, 
		even the slightest clue that may lead us to our 
		man. Minister, consider their findings at the 
		scene of the crime ...

VARIOUS ANGLES - SUBURBAN GARDENS

Plainclothes men search everywhere. In the background are two photographers. 
A flash-gun goes off. Behind a hedge, one of the policemen finds a ball of 
paper.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.) 
		... We find, for instance, behind a hedge in 
		a thicket a little tissue-paper bag ...

CLOSE - A PAIR OF TWEEZERS...

... carefully lifting the paper bag on which can be read the word SWEETS.
 
				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.) 
		... clearly it held cheap candy ... In a corner 
		we found tiny crumbs of acid drops and some 
		grains of colored sugar. Within a radius of 
		twelve kilometres, we have ... 

CLOSE - MAP OF BERLIN

The gardens where the bag was discovered are circled and dated 21-6.  A 
compass draws a second larger circle dated 22-6; the same compass starts a 
third circle.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.) 
		... searched in all the sweet-shops, cake-shops, 
		to find out where the bag came from ... In vain 
		... every day we widen the area of the search ...

SWEET-SHOP COUNTER

A detective questions a salesgirl who shakes her head insistently and shrugs.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.) 
		... but, of course, no one remembers 
		anything... or, at least not clearly enough ...

ICE CREAM KIOSK

A detective questions a salesman, without success.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.) 
		... In spite of all these negative replies we 
		are keeping up the search, stepping more and 
		more into an area of uncertainty ...

GROCERY STORE

A detective questions a grocer and his wife, without success.

				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.) 
		... without much hope of finding any solution. 
		Our men...

THE MINISTER'S OFFICE 

The MINISTER, on the phone, interrupts.

				MINISTER
			(furious)
		What good is that to me, Inspector? I know 
		you're not sleeping ... but those are the 
		facts: an unknown murderer terrorizes the 
		city ... a city of four million people ... And 
		... and ... the police, your police, are 
		helpless. I want results!

THE OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF POLICE

				CHIEF OF POLICE 
			(patiently) 
		Minister, you don't really seem to appreciate 
		the incredible difficulties which face us...
			(opening a folder on his desk)
		Only on the way home of the missing child, we
		got fifteen different testimonies. Just listen:
			(reads from folder)
		Testimony 1478 in the Beckmann murder case...

					CUT TO: 

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - OFFICE - DAY

A DETECTIVE questions two witnesses. One is large and fat; he wears a little 
beard and pince-nez. The other witness is stunted. In the background is a 
typist, taking down the exchange. 

				1ST WITNESS 
			(indignantly to 2ND WITNESS) 
		You don't know anything.
 
				2ND WITNESS 
			(leaps from his chair)
		More than you, sir. 

				DETECTIVE
		But, gentlemen, gentlemen ... Could you at 
		least come to some agreement on what color 
		bonnet the little girl was wearing, when you 
		saw her this morning, talking to an unknown 
		man? 

				1ST WITNESS 
		But, of course, Inspector, the bonnet was red. 

				2ND WITNESS 
		Inspector, the bonnet was green. 

				1ST WITNESS 
			(rising)
		It was a red bonnet. 

				2ND WITNESS 
		It was a green bonnet.

				1ST WITNESS 
			(shouting) 
		Red! 

				2ND WITNESS 
			(shouting) 
		Green! 

				1ST WITNESS 
			(in an absolute fury)
		Red!

				2ND WITNESS 
			(in as great a fury) 
		Green.

The WITNESSES try to shout one another down. The DETECTIVE looks on amazed. 
INTERCUT extreme CLOSE-UPS of both WITNESSES. 

				1ST WITNESS 
		Red. 

				2ND WITNESS 
		Green. 

				1ST WITNESS 
		Red. 

				2ND WITNESS 
		Green. 

				1ST WITNESS 
		Red. 

				2ND WITNESS 
		Green.

GROUP SHOT - The typist gets up. 

				DETECTIVE
		Stop, stop! ... It's hopeless. Thank you, 
		gentlemen. 

The 2ND WITNESS exits angrily.

				DETECTIVE
			(to the typist)
		Next witness.

The typist follows the 2ND WITNESS out.

				1ST WITNESS 
			(waving his arms)
		Of course, Inspector, if you are prepared to 
		listen to a color-blind socialist ...

The 1ST WITNESS shrugs and turns to go.

					CUT TO:
 
INT. OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF POLICE - DAY

The CHIEF is still on the telephone.

 				CHIEF OF POLICE 
		The police have followed up, as of today, more 
		than fifteen hundred clues in this case. The 
		dossiers we have collected fill sixty thick 
		volumes.  We have put all our men onto it ...

					CUT TO: 

INT./EXT. ANOTHER SEARCH MONTAGE - DAY/NIGHT

Several policemen beating through the undergrowth of a WOOD. The voice of the 
CHIEF OF POLICE continues over the following scenes.

 				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		...to systematically comb all the areas every 
		thicket, every piece of undergrowth, every 
		clearing is carefully examined, because behind 
		each bush ... 

Several policemen searching a wooded PIT.
 
 				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		... in every hole, we might find something that 
		would put us at last on the right track ...

A police dog as he picks up a scent and follows it to the edge of a LAKE, 
barking. A policeman follows him, holding him on a long leash. Other handlers 
and their dogs appear.

 				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		... We have sent out police dogs. The best 
		trackers have been put onto the weak scents we 
		have found ... without any result. Since this 
		murderer's first crime ... 

Detectives checking the papers of down-and-outs in a scruffy dormitory of a 
DOSSHOUSE, where rows of beds face one another and old clothing hangs from 
the walls. 

 				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		... the police have inspected all the 
		dosshouses every night and checked the 
		identity of every vagrant. Of course, these 
		steps don't increase the popularity of the 
		police, nor do they calm the nerves of the 
		general public...

A smoky RAILWAY STATION. Detectives are checking everyone's papers.

 				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		... nevertheless, we are keeping up our watch
		on all railway stations. But these checks are no 
		more successful than our nightly raids ...

A deserted STREET at night lit by street lamps. A plainclothes detective is 
accosted by a whore, but he goes on his way. Further on, under a street lamp, 
another girl talks with a client. 

 				CHIEF OF POLICE (o.s.)
		... of the various underworld hangouts. 

HIGH ANGLE - A dark STREET, still wet from recent rain. A couple disappear 
into a seedy HOTEL. A detective, beneath a street lamp opposite, looks on.

VARIOUS SHOTS - The headlights of a car light up the walls. Two plainclothes 
detectives leap from the car while it is still moving. They abruptly walk the 
sidewalk nonchalantly as the car drives off.  Their footsteps ECHO. Two cars 
full of men drive up and SQUEAL to a halt at the curb. A dozen or so 
policemen jump from cars and station themselves rapidly in various doorways. 
Three detectives wait in one doorway. One of them looks at his watch and 
gestures at the others. They move out of sight. 

On the dark, wet STREET, a detective walks to the middle of the street and 
gives a signal -- a whistle BLOWS.   Up the street, uniformed policemen, 
waiting by their parked vehicles, spring into action, rushing off. A group of 
plainclothes detectives march down the street, past the hotel, followed by 
uniformed men drawn up in two ranks. A few prostitutes exiting the hotel are 
rounded up and forced back inside. But it is not the hotel that the police 
have targeted... they march past it, down the street.

HIGH ANGLE - looking down over the roofs at a line of uniformed policemen and 
a group of detectives as they march down the street.

					CUT TO:

INT. 'THE CROCODILE' - NIGHT

Down the spiral staircase which leads from the street, a young PROSTITUTE 
rushes into a sordid basement bar. It is an underworld hangout known as 'The 
Crocodile'. A stuffed crocodile hangs from the ceiling. 

				PROSTITUTE
		THE COPS! 

Without wasting a second, the clients, criminals and whores, rush for the 
exit, scrambling over the tables and chairs. The LANDLADY rapidly lowers a 
metal grille which shuts her off behind the bar. Everyone rushes for the 
stairs. 

HIGH ANGLE - looking down the empty staircase: general chaos and confusion. 
The young prostitute appears first, followed by a thief who gives a sudden 
start and, furious, turns back. Others pass him to be turned back in their 
turn. Police whistles. Car horns. A line of policemen, advancing steadily, 
pushes the fleeing crowd back down into the room.

				POLICEMAN'S VOICE
		Police. Get back there.
 
				YOUNG PROSTITUTE'S VOICE 
			(among other cries)
		Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! Eh, 
		Inspector, let me go!

A policeman descends the stairs carrying the YOUNG PROSTITUTE in his arms. We 
TRACK with them till they stop at the bottom of the stairs, beneath the arch 
of the entrance. 

				YOUNG PROSTITUTE
		Let me go, won't you! ... you son of a bitch! 
		Let me go, let me go!

				THIEF
		Let the girl alone, dirty pig. 

The prostitute is released and exchanges words with the cop -- punctuated
by her spitting on him.  General hubbub rising to a crescendo. 

				POLICE
		Quiet ... quiet!

Over the heads of the crowd, a SERGEANT appears. 

				SOMEONE IN THE CROWD
		Ah, the head cop. 

Laughter. With a gesture, the SERGEANT commands silence. 

				SERGEANT 
		Quiet.

				A VOICE
		You'd like that, wouldn't you?

On the stairs, in the dim light of the cellar, with the crowd of thieves and 
whores in the background, stands the dark silhouette of the SERGEANT. 

				SERGEANT
		Police orders. Nobody leaves this place ... Get 
		your papers ready.

Cries of protest and whistles from around the room. The SERGEANT stands in 
the entrance flanked on either side by police. An inspector comes down the 
stairs with one of his men. It is the heavyish INSPECTOR LOHMANN. He pauses, 
his face still in darkness. 

				A VOICE
		Let's see you, let's see you!

He moves forward and stops a few steps from the bottom.

				LOHMANN 
			(cheerfully)
		Come on now, children. Let's not do anything 
		silly.

				A THIEF 
			(raising his hat)
		It's 'Fatty' Lohmann!

				A VOICE 
			(chanting)
		Loh-mann, Loh-mann, Loh-mann. 

				ANOTHER VOICE
		Pop Lohmann! 

Several wave their hats.
 
				EVERYONE 
			(in chorus)
		Loh-mann! Loh-mann! Loh-mann!

The chanting ends in whistles. INSPECTOR LOHMANN comes down to the last step 
and enters the light. A strong looking man, about forty, he gives the 
impression of shrewd efficiency. 

				LOHMANN 
		Quiet! 

				A VOICE
		Get out!

				LOHMANN 
		You'll wear yourselves out.

				A WOMAN'S VOICE 
			(hysterically)
		It would be better if you caught the child 
		murderer.

				ANOTHER WOMAN'S VOICE
		Yeah ... much better! 

The CROWD whistles. 

				LOHMANN 
		Quiet! Quiet! Be reasonable!

He steps forward. Several policeman follow him. 

				LOHMANN 
		Spread out ... spread out all of you. All of you 
		... spread out. Come on, come on now. Get your 
		papers out. 

More detectives come down the stairs. 

				A VOICE
		I haven't got any. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Show me your papers.

				A GIRL 
			(o.s., begging)
		Let me go, please, Inspector.

In the rear of the Crocodile, a seemingly empty corner with a window and a 
COAT RACK.

				VOICE (o.s.)
		Show me your papers.

HIGH ANGLE of an abandoned Crocodile TABLE, drinks, ashtray, a hat on the 
floor.

				VOICES (o.s.)
		I think we know each other.
		Yes, we do.

The COAT RACK again.

				VOICES OF COPS & PROSTITUTES (o.s.)
		To Alex, Alex [police headquarters].
		With all this mess, not a client.

One of the criminals, in hiding, pokes his head out from behind some of the 
coats.

More police descend the STAIRS.

				VOICE (o.s.)
		Don't make any trouble. No papers and you go 
		to headquarters.

By the COAT RACK, the criminal waits for an oppurtunity.

				VOICES (o.s.)
		I am innocent.
		Don't talk nonsense.

Glass BREAKS, the COPS yell at someone. The criminal, taking advantage of the 
distraction, quickly grabs his hat off the rack and tries to climb out the 
window -- but then stops.

The criminal's POV: LOW ANGLE - Through a metal grate which leads up to the 
street, he sees: a policeman standing guard above. 

				VOICES (o.s.)
		Quiet! Show me your papers.

The criminal resignedly backs away and slumps on a table before slapping his 
hat back on the coat rack in frustration.

				VOICES (o.s.)
		Don't push. It's eveybody's turn.
 
In the MAIN CELLAR, LOHMANN and two of his men are installed behind two 
tables. In front of him stands a young prostitute. Uniformed police form a 
corridor leading to the exit. In the background, the various occupants of the 
club stand about.

				LOHMANN 
		Have you got any papers?

				THE GIRL 
		But, Inspector, I can't go around everywhere 
		with my birth certificate on me. That's asking 
		too much.

				LOHMANN 
			(indifferent) 
		Let's not beat around the bush, darling. 

Between LOHMANN and one of his assistants, THE GIRL stands beside an enormous 
THUG, with a black eye, wearing a cap, a fag-end in his mouth, hands in 
pockets. A row of police lines the wall. 

				THE GIRL 
			(indignantly) 
		That's really asking too much, Inspector. 

				LOHMANN 
			(severely)
		Alex.

Alex is short for Alexanderplatz, the headquarters of the Berlin police.  In 
other words, she's going downtown.

 				THE GIRL 
		Look here, it's disgusting.

She's led off to the right. The black-eyed THUG steps forward. He takes out a 
wallet and, very sure of himself, hands his papers to LOHMANN.

LOHMANN flicks through the papers. Skeptically, he examines their owner.  A 
policeman searches the THUG. LOHMANN whistles the song: 'Where did you get 
your beautiful blue eyes?' and gives the THUG an understanding wink. Behind 
them stand a group of thieves, surrounded by police. The policeman finishes 
searching and goes out. The THUG puts his hands back in his pockets and looks 
at LOHMANN triumphantly. LOHMANN smiles and holds the papers up to the light.

				LOHMANN 
			(commiserating) 
		Poor workmanship, my friend...

The THUG, surprised, takes the cigarette butt out of his mouth. 

				LOHMANN 
		You've been had. 

A pause. LOHMANN signals to a policeman. 

				LOHMANN
		Alex. Next.

The THUG furiously throws his butt to the floor. 

				A THIEF 
			(insolently)
		Better luck next time, Willi. 

				THUG
			(moving off) 
		Oh ... you ... Shut your face.

				LOHMANN 
		Next. 

A greasy Mediterranean type steps forward, very smooth. He wears a sumptuous 
fur-collared overcoat. Taking off his bowler, he tips his hat to LOHMANN 
obsequiously and presents his papers. 

				ANOTHER THIEF 
			(admiringly) 
		Fancy boy.

Another whistles. 

LOHMANN looks at the papers and gives them back. FANCY BOY raises his hat 
again and prepares to leave. We TRACK with him. Suddenly LOHMANN, using the 
handle of his walking stick, snags FANCY BOY's arm and pulls him back to the 
table. 

				FANCY BOY 
			(astonished)
		What's the matter? 

				A THIEF
		Pop Lohmann has got him. 

				SEVERAL VOICES 
		He's got him.

LOHMANN grabs a newspaper jutting out of the pocket of FANCY BOY'S fur coat, 
unfolds it, and looks it over: 

INSERT - the front page of the newspaper dated 21st November, 1930. An 
illustrated article, circled in pencil, reads: 'Unsolved burglary at a 
furrier's shop. 

LOHMANN puts down the paper.

				LOHMANN 
		Well ... I think I had better take you down to 
		headquarters.

				FANCY BOY
			(horrified)
		But, after all, my ... my papers are in order. 

While he protests, his papers are taken from him. 

				LOHMANN 
		Next.

FANCY BOY doesn't move.

				LOHMANN 
		Next!

FANCY BOY is led away. Next in line is a LITTLE FAT MAN, cheerful and very 
friendly.

				LITTLE FAT MAN
			(off FANCY BOY)
		No luck, huh? 

The LITTLE FAT MAN comes up to LOHMANN and clumsily takes off his hat. 

				LOHMANN 
		Next. Papers. 

				LITTLE FAT MAN 
			(in a friendly tone) 
		I haven't got any. 

				LOHMANN 
		Alex.

				LITTLE FAT MAN 
			(shrugs his shoulders) 
		No luck. 

LITTLE FAT MAN leaves. 

				LOHMANN 
		Next ... come on, let's keep it going.

Two policemen search a corner of the room. They look under the tables, tip up 
the chairs and go through the pockets of the coats in the cloakroom. One 
finds a revolver, then a leather briefcase. INSERT of the briefcase as it is 
opened: inside, a complete housebreaking kit.

Things that have been confiscated are piled up, a jimmy, a saw, revolver 
bullets, brass knuckles, spoons, pocketwatches, wallets, binoculars, furs,
etc. A hand adds the leather briefcase to the pile. 

In the ladies' TOILET, a policeman enters, hesitates, knocks on one of the 
stalls, then pulls back its curtain. He gestures to someone inside. A thief, 
embarrassed, comes out of his hiding place. The two men exit together.

The LANDLADY stands behind her bar talking to a SERGEANT. He buys a pack of 
cigarettes from her.
 
				LANDLADY
		This is ruining our business, Sergeant ... 
		Every night there's interference. No one can 
		have ten minutes in peace anymore. Give us a 
		chance!

She goes to the back of the bar and pours herself a drink. The SERGEANT 
lights his cigarette. 

				SERGEANT 
		It's no joke for us either, out every night. 

				LANDLADY 
		Of course ... but you're drivin' away my 
		clientele ... And the guy you're looking for 
		isn't here. 
			(she drinks)
		You can't imagine how mad everyone is about 
		this guy who's causing a raid every night. 
		Especially the girls ... okay, they walk the 
		streets ... but, believe me, every one is a 
		a little mother at heart.

The SERGEANT tries to keep a straight face as he leans on the bar, surrounded 
by clouds of cigarette smoke.

				LANDLADY
		I know plenty of crooks who get kinda tender 
		when they see kids playing. If they catch that 
		bastard ... 
			(makes a short, sharp gesture) 
		... they'll wring his neck. Believe me.

Another policeman comes up and salutes the SERGEANT. 

				POLICEMAN 
		Ready to go, Sergeant?

The SERGEANT touches the peak of his cap and leaves with the policeman.

				SERGEANT
			(to the LANDLADY)
		Good night.

The LANDLADY watches them leave with a gesture of disgust. 

					CUT TO:

INT. THE UNDERWORLD MEETING ROOM - NIGHT

A man in plus-fours stands by the window of a comfortably furnished middle-
class room; he looks at the street through binoculars. He is a PICK-POCKET. 

PICK-POCKET'S POV - HIGH ANGLE - In the street, two police vans drive past, 
full of crooks and hookers. LOHMANN follows in an open car. 

The PICK-POCKET still looks through his binoculars. 

				PICK-POCKET
		So, it's 'The Crocodile' tonight. 
			(lowers the binoculars)
		Two trucks full again.

He turns around. On the sofa, smoking a cigarette, lies a tall, thin CON-MAN, 
dressed impeccably but a little pretentiously. He wears a dark jacket, a 
waistcoat and light trousers, and has a thin moustache. Lounging beside him, 
a BURGLAR, tough but not very bright, also smoking. The CON-MAN gets up 
impatiently. 

				CON-MAN 
		What's keeping Schränker?

A moustached SAFE-BREAKER sits at the table in the center of the room, 
doctoring playing cards. 

				SAFE-BREAKER
		Isn't it three o'clock yet? 

				PICK-POCKET 
		I'll find out.

He puts down the binoculars and walks from the window to the telephone in the 
middle of the room. He dials a number.

				PICK-POCKET 
		Hello ... The exact time, please, Miss. 
			(sits at the table)
		Two minutes to three. Thank you.

He hangs up and, from various pockets, takes out a series of watches. He 
compares the time they show and places them on the table. The CON-MAN has sat 
down beside him and does card tricks.

				PICK-POCKET 
			(setting one of the watches) 
		Two minutes to three. 

				CON-MAN 
			(disgusted) 
		There are more police on the streets than 
		whores. 

The BURGLAR sits in an armchair, a suitcase under his arm. In front of him, a 
small low table, with an ashtray on it overflowing with butts. 

				BURGLAR
		Wherever you spit ... nothing but cops.

The SAFE-BREAKER, chewing on his cigarette holder, comes up to the table. He 
wears a white waistcoat and a white bow-tie. A 1900-style lampshade hangs 
above everyone.

				PICK-POCKET 
		Even when you're with a doll, they don't leave 
		you in peace ... And they've gone nuts too ... 
		All they can think about is that murderer ... 
			(to the SAFE-BREAKER) 
		... Mine ... she's got a little six-year old 
		girl, and, every night, I have to waste time 
		searching under the bed and in the cupboards to 
		make sure the murderer isn't hiding there.

The CON-MAN spreads three cards out on the table. The SAFE-BREAKER indicates 
a card with the look of an expert. The CON-MAN turns it up: an ace. The PICK-
POCKET takes out a handkerchief and spreads it out beside the watches. 

				PICK-POCKET 
		You can't even get on with your job. Everywhere 
		you come across the police. There's no privacy 
		any more ... I'm fed up. 

The SAFE-BREAKER walks around the table, looking at the time as he passes. 

				CON-MAN 
			(bored) 
		What else is new?

He puts the cards in his pocket. The PICK-POCKET arranges his watches in the 
handkerchief and slips them into his pocket. The SAFE-BREAKER sits down 
again. 
	
				CON-MAN 
		What's keeping Schränker? 

				PICK-POCKET 
		Maybe he's been caught.

				BURGLAR 
			(laughing) 
		Not him. 
			(rejoins the others) 
		He did a bank job in London and Scotland Yard 
		set a trap for him ... there he was, hands up, 
		back to the wall, millions of cops all round 
		... and two seconds later there were two bodies 
		on the ground and he'd beat it!

The BURGLAR has sat down, his bag in his lap. The SAFE-BREAKER lights 
another cigarette from the stub of the first. The four men are now sitting at 
the table.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
			(with respect)
		The best man between Berlin and San Francisco.

				BURGLAR 
		They've been looking for him for six years and 
		they haven't caught him.

				PICK-POCKET 
		Haven't caught him ... But dogs can kill 
		wolves. 

				SAFE-BREAKER
		Shut up.

They are all nervous and worried and, except for the CON-MAN, smoke heavily. 
The CON-MAN looks at the time again.

				CON-MAN 
		The suspense is killing me. He's usually right 
		on time--

On these last words, the door bell RINGS four times. Relieved, they look at 
one another. 

				PICK-POCKET 
		Thank God! 

				BURGLAR
		At last!

The door opens. SCHRÄNKER appears in leather overcoat, bowler hat and 
carrying a walking stick. 

				ALL
		Good afternoon ... You've got here at last. 
		Good afternoon. 

He immediately shuts the door and doesn't come into the room.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Are you mad? Close the curtains.

At the window, the curtains are half-drawn. Next to it is the table where 
the SAFE-BREAKER was sitting. The PICK-POCKET creeps along the wall to the 
window to avoid being seen from the street and closes the shades. 

The PICK-POCKET returns to his place at the table in the middle of the room. 
SCHRÄNKER, at the central table, has taken off his overcoat to reveal a 
chalk-stripe suit, dark tie and black leather gloves. He removes his hat, 
putting it on the table with his curved-handled walking stick (very similar 
to Lohmann's).

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Gentlemen, the meeting can now begin. 

He sits down to preside over the meeting. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		According to the regulations, I confirm with 
		pleasure that the leadership of every 
		organization in our Union is represented. 

He grasps his stick. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		I assume that you all have full powers ...

The SAFE-BREAKER nods. The PICK-POCKET, who is cracking a nut, nods too.  The 
CON-MAN, while lighting a cigarette, also nods. Finally, the BURGLAR, still 
bent over the bag, also gives his assent. 

				SCHRÄNKER
 		... authorizing you to vote for your members.
		Good ... let's not be held up by procedure. 
		We all know why we are here. 
			(vehemently) 
		Someone who is not a member of the Union is 
		threatening our rackets. The new measures taken 
		by the police, the daily raids in our areas to 
		find this child murderer, interfere with our 
		business activities in an unbearable way. 
		We can put up no longer with the endless 
		pressure from the police, in every hotel, café, 
		or flat. 

				SAFE-BREAKER
		That's for sure. 

				PICK-POCKET 
		Mm hmm!

				SCHRÄNKER 
		This state of affairs must not be allowed to 
		continue. We'll have to put things right again 
		or we'll be destroyed.

The BURGLAR stubs out his cigarette. As SCHRÄNKER continues to talk, the 
BURGLAR takes out another cigarette and strikes a match. Now and again 
SCHRÄNKER'S gloved hand, playing with his stick, passes across frame. 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		The funds of our organization are exhausted. 
		Unless I make use of the funds put aside to 
		support the wives of our colleagues who are 
		being "looked after" by the state, I just don't 
		know where I'll find the funds needed for the 
		preparation and execution of our various 
		projects. What is more, our reputation is 
		suffering. The cops are looking for the 
		murderer in our ranks, gentlemen ... When I 
		come up against a cop while carrying on my 
		business, he knows the risk he runs ... and I 
		do, as well. If one of us dies ... okay ... 
		that's a risk one must take. It can happen: 
		but we are not on the same level as this man 
		they're looking for now.

SCHRÄNKER underlines these last words with a wide gesture.

				SAFE-BREAKER
		Exactly.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		There is a chasm between him and us. 

				BURGLAR 
		Of course.

				PICK-POCKET 
			(at the same time) 
		No comparison.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		We're doing our job because we have a living to 
		make. But this monster has no right to live. He 
		must disappear. He must be exterminated, without 
		pity ... without scruples. 
			(pause)
		Gentlemen, our members must be able to carry on 
		their business normally, without being 
		handicapped by the growing nervousness of the 
		police. I'm appealing to you ...

With a gesture, he invites comments; on the gesture, we CUT TO

INT. THE OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF POLICE - NIGHT

The CHIEF continues SCHRÄNKER'S same gesture. A meeting is also in progress 
at his office.  Policemen and high-ranking detective inspectors are sitting 
at a long conference table, littered with brandy glasses and coffee cups. 
Cigar-smoke fills the air. The CHIEF stands at the head of the table and 
finishes SCHRÄNKER'S line:

				CHIEF OF POLICE 
		... for advice.

He sits down and a police OFFICER rises. Beside him, a BESPECTACLED MAN in 
plainclothes listens attentively.

				THE OFFICER 
			(in a military tone)
		I suggest a closer watch on I.D. cards, a 
		systematic search of the the whole city, 
		police raids...

The BESPECTACLED MAN looks dubious. 

				THE OFFICER 
		... more numerous raids, and certainly tougher 
		ones. 

He sits down.  We now CUT BACK AND FORTH between the meetings of the police 
and the underworld.

AT THE UNDERWORLD MEETING...

...the CON-MAN gets up. 

				CON-MAN 
		Spies ... We need spies in the ranks of the 
		police to give us plenty of warning of new 
		measures.

				BURGLAR 
		The girls've got to take a little more notice 
		of the cops. We're always getting into trouble 
		because one of the girls has snitched to her 
		cop boyfriend. 

The PICK-POCKET agrees; the CON-MAN sits down satisfied. 

				BURGLAR 
		Now, it's up to the girls to snitch for us!

AT THE POLICE MEETING...

... the BESPECTACLED MAN stands.

				BESPECTACLED MAN
		We must be allowed to search any house, 
		apartment, back yard, in order to find a clue.

The BESPECTACLED MAN sits.

AT THE UNDERWORLD MEETING...

... the SAFE-BREAKER rises.
 
				SAFE-BREAKER 
		What we must do ... And after all, we've all 
		got contacts ... What we must do is make a 
		statement to the Press ourselves, tell them 
		that we, the Organization, members of the Union 
		-- we condemn the bastard just as much! We 
		ought to make it known that the police should 
		quit looking for him in the underworld. 

AT THE POLICE MEETING...

... an elderly bespectacled detective, with a small beard and a stiff collar, 
speaks. Another detective sits on his right; on his left, a police officer 
with a monocle.

				ELDERLY DETECTIVE
		I'm sure it's a man who looks like a peaceful
 		little family man, who wouldn't harm a fly, 
		except when he has his fits, of course!  
 
LOHMANN listens with interest. 

				ELDERLY DETECTIVE
		Perhaps in his normal state, he even plays 
		marbles with the concierge's children. 

LOHMANN nods agreement. 

				ELDERLY DETECTIVE
		Or perhaps plays cards with his wife. Without 
		this appearance of, let's say inoffensiveness 
		in private life, it would be impossible to 
		believe that murderers like Grossmann or 
		Haarmann were able to live for years in large, 
		busy blocks of flats without their neighbors 
		suspecting them in the slightest.

An OFFICER with a moustache, smoking a pipe, agrees; beside him a plain-
clothes man takes notes.

				THE OFFICER
		That's what we must get across to the public. 
		They must help.

LOHMANN, clearly annoyed, rises to his feet. 

				LOHMANN 
		Don't talk to me about help from the general 
		public. It disgusts me just to hear them talk. 

He bows towards the CHIEF OF POLICE. 

				LOHMANN 
		Sorry, Chief ... 

The CHIEF, smiling, makes a gesture accepting the apology. 

				LOHMANN 
		Sorry, but that is the truth. Good God! Has 
		help from the public brought us one useful 
		clue?

Furiously, he stubs out his cigar. 

				LOHMANN 
		Just a pile of letters full of the most 
		incredible accusations! 

Two INSPECTORS at the end of the table concur. 

				FIRST INSPECTOR
		How true.

				LOHMANN 
		Calls to the police as soon as a garbage 
		man steps on their lawn. 

				SECOND INSPECTOR
		Exactly.

				LOHMANN 
		But when we want really accurate information ...
		they can't remember anything, they've seen 
		nothing. That's help from the public for you.
 
				CHIEF OF POLICE 
			(smiling) 
		I think you exaggerate a little, Lohmann. 

				ANOTHER OFFICIAL
		No, he isn't. Most of the people don't feel 
		concerned. The majority of them doesn't 
		realize that the disappearance of a child is 
		also their problem.

AT THE UNDERWORLD MEETING...

...great clouds of smoke drift over the table. All present are deep in 
thought. The PICK-POCKET breaks the silence.

				PICK-POCKET 
		I've got an idea! There's a magician, no, a 
		tele ... telepa ... or is it a radiologist? 
		Anyway, I don't know what you call them ... 
		one of those guys who finds handkerchiefs and 
		wallets that have been hidden...

The BURGLAR turns away skeptically.

AT THE POLICE MEETING...

... also full of smoke, a uniformed OFFICER speaks.

				OFFICER 
		I also think the reward isn't high enough.

His neighbor, an INSPECTOR, gestures in disagreement and gets up.

				OFFICER
		Chief ... we must offer a real fortune for 
		catching the murderer.

The INSPECTOR, standing, pushes his chair up to the table. 

				INSPECTOR 
			(irritably, as he leaves)
		None of this is getting us anywhere.

AT THE UNDERWORLD MEETING...

...clouds of cigarette smoke hang around the fringed lampshade.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		That won't do any good. 

				CON-MAN 
		Well, what do you suggest? 

The BURGLAR gets up, moves behind his armchair and leans on the back of it.

				BURGLAR 
		Well, we can't just wait until the police make 
		up their minds to arrest this guy.

AT THE POLICE MEETING...

An INSPECTOR with long disorderly white hair leans over the back of his chair 
towards the CHIEF OF POLICE, continuing the movement of the BURGLAR.  The 
POLICEMAN with the monocle sits on his left; on his right in the foreground, 
another INSPECTOR sits. 

				INSPECTOR
		The difficulty of solving this type of crime 
		is increased by the fact that the wrongdoer and 
		the victim are only connected by a chance 
		meeting. An instantaneous impulse is the 
		killer's only motive.
 
				THE CHIEF 
			(impressed) 
		Hmm... Hmm...

				INSPECTOR 
		We find the victim; we identify her; we find 
		out when she was last seen ... And then, and 
		then, nothing more. 
			(beat)
		The children disappear.
			(beat)
		And you know what state we find them in... If
		we find them. And the killer, as we know, in
		this kind of crime never leaves a mark behind.
		This is what makes our job so hard and our 
		success so rare.

AT THE UNDERWORLD MEETING...

...the SAFE-BREAKER stands. In the background, the rest sit round the table. 
The BURGLAR perches on the back of his chair.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		The police have been looking for this murderer 
		for eight months now. Now it's got to the point
		where they'll only catch him by luck.

				BURGLAR 
		We can't wait for that ... 

				CON-MAN 
		We'll be ruined before then. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		What are we going to do then?

HIGH ANGLE - THE POLICE MEETING

The room is misty with thick clouds of smoke. The meeting has come to a full 
stop and some of the officers have got up and are pacing around the room.

HIGH ANGLE - THE UNDERWORLD MEETING

The PICK-POCKET has made a huge question mark with the shells of his nuts on 
the table. The SAFE-BREAKER and the BURGLAR both pace restlessly up and down. 

HIGH ANGLE - THE POLICE MEETING

Most people have left their places and are wandering around the room.

HIGH ANGLE - THE UNDERWORLD MEETING

Only the PICK-POCKET and SCHRÄNKER sit. The CON-MAN stands by the table, and 
the SAFE-BREAKER has moved into the background by the window.  SCHRÄNKER 
slowly lifts his bowed head and, finally, deliberately, breaks the silence.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(decisively)
		We'll have to catch him ourselves. 

Astonished, the others slowly gather round him.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Yes ... we must. This is what we must do...

THE POLICE MEETING...

Abandoned chairs around the conference table -- most of the delegates wander 
up and down. But gradually their attention is drawn to what LOHMANN is saying 
and one or two nod their heads in agreement.

				LOHMANN 
		There's still one possible way. The guilty man 
		or the possible suspects must already have a 
		record somewhere. Such a person, deeply 
		disturbed, must already have fallen foul of the 
		law. We've got to contact every clinic, every 
		prison, every lunatic asylum. 

Noise of general agreement. 

				LOHMANN 
		We'll have to make inquiries about everyone who 
		has been freed as 'harmless' but who has the 
		same pathological condition as the killer.

THE UNDERWORLD MEETING...

HIGH ANGLE - The crooks look down at a map of Berlin spread out on the table.

				SCHRÄNKER
		Every square yard must be permanently watched. 
		From now on no child must take a step without 
		us being warned. 

CLOSE - SCHRÄNKER'S BLACK-GLOVED HAND

... placed over the map. 

				CON-MAN (o.s.) 
		Okay, but how do we do it?

				SAFE-BREAKER (o.s.) 
		Yes ... how? 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.) 
		There must be people ... 

WIDER - The shadow of the group is silhouetted on the wall, SCHRÄNKER'S 
shadow in the center.

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.) 
		... who can go anywhere without being noticed 
		... who can follow anyone on the streets 
		without arousing suspicion ... who can follow 
		the children right to their front doors without 
		any trouble. In fact, people no one would 
		suspect of being guilty. 

				THE OTHERS (o.s.) 
		But who? ... Who? People like that don't exist 
		... Who could do it? ... Who? ... Who?
 
SCHRÄNKER pauses and then rises so that his shadow on the wall swells up.

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.) 
			(decisively)
		The beggars. The beggars' union can do it.

					CUT TO:

INT. THE BEGGAR'S MARKET - DAY

Cigar, cigarette butts, pipe stems, etc., are being laid out on a table by a 
hand that removes them from a tin. PAN UP to reveal the bearded beggar who 
organizes these items. He picks up a particularly good looking cigar butt and 
gives it a sniff. Smiling, he puts the butt in his mouth and  lights a match 
but decides against smoking the butt and extinguishes the match. We PAN OFF 
him, past abnother beggar at work to:

A notice reads: NO MORE CREDIT. We PAN OFF this and TRACK TO a table where 
two beggars lay out sandwiches, bits of bread and slices of sausage. We TRACK 
to a CLOSE SHOT of their hands with the bread and sausage. 

				1ST BEGGAR (o.s.)
		Sausage going up.

				2ND BEGGAR (o.s.) 
		God, this cheese smells good.

PAN TO another table where a game of cards is in progress. Only the players' 
hands and the cards are visible. A beggar wins the game and throws down his 
cards.

				3RD BEGGAR (o.s.) 
		That finishes you.

PAN UP TO show a grizzled tramp, who has brought in a caged live chicken. He 
finishes a glass of wine, toasting his chicken. We TRACK past a grille in 
front of a cloakroom to find another tramp, snoring. Beside him, two others 
take the fillings out of sandwiches.

				4TH BEGGAR
		Stop snoring! You'll wake the lice.
 
We TRACK TO the counter where the fat BOSS OF THE BEGGARS' MARKET takes a 
steaming sausage out of a pot and takes a bite. Then he counts a packet of 
sandwiches a tramp has brought him.

				THE BOSS 
			(counting)
		Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, 
		sixteen, eighteen, twenty, twenty-two, 
		twenty-four, twenty-six ... 

As he continues, we MOVE towards a huge blackboard fixed to the wall behind 
him. On it is written: 'PRICES FOR THE EVENING OF THE 16th,' and then a list 
of every sort of sandwich, classified according to filling and the quality of 
the bread. The BOSS gets up on a stool and alters certain prices, murmuring 
to himself.

				THE BOSS
		Sandwiches: Friday, bad day for cold meat ... 
		No go. 

His voice continues, as we PAN UP to the floor above and PUSH THROUGH a 
window to a strange sort of office. A vulture's skeleton is on the left in 
the foreground. At the back of the room, beggars form a queue. We MOVE 
towards the office where two men from the Beggar's Union are working. One 
studies a map of the town, the other writes names into a huge register.

				1ST MAN
		Now we must deal with the back yards. 

				2ND MAN
		Yes, from number one to number eighty-eight. 

We MOVE towards SCHRÄNKER who leans against the wall watching the work. PAN 
TO a door with a glass panel on which can be read: 'ACCOUNTS. Please give 
your name to the outside office.' 

In the corridor, as in the office, beggars wait behind a small barrier.

				2ND MAN (o.s.)
		Next.

The barrier is briefly raised and a beggar enters the office, taking off his 
cap.  Another beggar stands in front of the TWO MEN who give him a small slip 
of paper. The 2ND MAN keeps a carbon copy of it. 

				2ND MAN
		You are responsible for the courtyards of every 
		block of flats from 1 to 88 High Street. 

				BEGGAR 
		Right.

The BEGGAR goes out. Another comes up. 

				2ND MAN
		Next.

INSERT - a street map marked with the places where the children have 
disappeared or been murdered. 

CLOSE - the 1ST MAN's pencil follows one of the streets. 

				1ST MAN (o.s.)
		89 to 196 High Street ... Okay?

WIDER ANGLE - OFFICE 

One tramp stands before the TWO MEN and two more tramps join him. The 2ND MAN 
notes down the first one's particulars. 

				2ND MAN 
			(writing) 
		89 to 196 High Street ... What's your union 
		number? 

				TRAMP 
			(after some thought) 
		Three, seven, ninety-five. Emil Dustermannn...

CLOSE - a hand writing the name and number in the register.

				2ND MAN
		Three ... seven ... ninety-five ... Emil 
		Dustermann ... 

The hand tears a slip from the register. 

WIDER ANGLE - the line of BEGGARS with DUSTERMANN in the foreground: he has a 
wooden leg and leans on a stick.

				2ND MAN
		There you are, Emil. 

He gives him the paper. 

				2ND MAN
		Maybe, you'll win the fifteen thousand.

				DUSTERMANN 
 		Maybe I will.
			(taps his leg)
		Knock wood.

ANOTHER ANGLE - ANOTHER PART OF THE MARKET

An assorted collection of second-hand goods and junk is on display. A line of 
metal grilles form a cash desk, and there are violins and accordions spread 
out on a long table. In the background there are several barrel organs, and 
on a shelf a stack of old shoes and boots. A constant murmur of voices 
reaches us from other parts of the market. The junk dealer demonstrates one 
of the barrel organs to a beggar, but it is very out of key and only plays a 
few screeching NOTES.

The BLIND BEGGAR -- the one who sold the doll-like balloon to the MURDERER -- 
sits at a nearby table drinking a beer, balloons floating above him. Putting 
down his glass, he covers his ears to blot out the screeching. Immediately, 
the excruciating noise from the barrel organ stops; but as he lowers his 
hands, it starts up again. After a moment, another organ starts to play a 
charming polka. The BLIND BEGGAR lowers his hands and is delighted.  He 
begins to conduct an imaginary orchestra. The music continues over as we

					CUT TO:

EXT. THE COURTYARD OF A TENEMENT BLOCK - DAY

HIGH ANGLE - Early evening.  The setting sun casts long shadows across the 
tarmac. In the gloom, a few children stand in twos and threes watching a 
BEGGAR playing a barrel organ. Money thrown from windows above. 

CLOSER - the barrel organ. 

The music stops and the last bill hits the ground.

				BEGGAR (o.s.) 
		Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you. 

					CUT TO:

EXT. BEGGARS' MONTAGE - DAY

The next day.

SIDEWALK - The legs of a ANOTHER BEGGAR, seated on the curb, his hat upturned 
beside him. A man and a little girl pass but only their legs are visible. The 
little girl throws a coin into the hat.

				BEGGAR
		Thank you very much.

CLOSE - the BEGGAR wears dark glasses and a notice round his neck saying 
'BLIND'. A German sheepdog sits beside him.

The two shadows of the passers-by draw away. The BEGGAR lifts his glasses to 
take a sly look after them and, on cue, the dog comically turns its head in 
the same direction. From the BEGGAR'S POV, we see the man and the little girl 
walking off arm-in-arm. 

We TRACK with them, past a poster advertising 'West-front 1918'. The man goes 
with the little girl as far as the entrance to a SCHOOL. He kisses her and 
leaves here there. Beside the school entrance, another BEGGAR, with two white 
pigeons, is on the look-out. 

SWEET SHOP

Two little girls looking into the shop window. Wooden-legged EMIL DUSTERMANN 
stands beside it, keeping watch.

TOY SHOP

In the shop window, a windmill and other mechanical toys are turning. Two 
children stop to watch while their nurse runs into a friend and walks off, 
unconsciously abandoning the kids. Other children join the first two at the 
window.  A legless beggar, squatting on a little cart, looks on with concern.
The nurse returns and retrieves her kids.

					CUT TO:

INT. INSPECTOR LOHMANN'S OFFICE - DAY

LOHMANN sits at his desk, smoking a cigar and reading a report.  

INSERT - the report.

		'When searching their homes, we must above all 
		look for any clue by which we could establish 
		where the murderer's letter to the papers 
		originated. If there is an old wooden table on 
		which the letter could have been written, if 
		there is a red pencil or any tiny pieces from 
		sharpening such a pencil, or writing paper of 
		the same type. The inquiries must be made as 
		discreetly as possible.
 
LOHMANN'S hand comes into shot holding a pen. He underlines the words 'old 
wooden table' and corrects a typing error.
 
				LOHMANN 
			(off the typo, muttering) 
		Idiot. 

He also underlines the words 'red pencil '. A KNOCK on the door. 

				LOHMANN 
		Come in.

LOHMANN signs the letter. 

WIDER ANGLE - OFFICE

An ASSISTANT comes in and passes him a file.

				THE ASSISTANT
		Here's the list of mental patients who have 
		been let out as cured or harmless in the last 
		five years.

INSERT - the file as LOHMANN sorts through it. It contains reports from 'Dr. 
Goll's Psychiatric Institute,' from 'Professor Emil Lebkowitz's private 
clinic for mental patients,' from 'The Protestant Hospital of Nazareth,' from 
'The Elizabeth Clinic,' from 'St. Hedwig's Hospital,' etc.
 
				ASSISTANT (o.s.) 
		Reports from every institute, private and 
		public. 

LOHMANN picks up another file ... 

				ASSISTANT (o.s.) 
		And that's a list of their present addresses.

LOHMANN opens the file and flicks through it.

					CUT TO:

EXT. LOWER MIDDLE CLASS ROOMING HOUSE - DAY

Early afternoon. The MURDERER, coming out into the street from the rooming 
house, moves off to the left. LOHMANN'S ASSISTANT immediately appears from 
the right. He hesitates an instant, then throws down his cigarette and goes 
in.

					CUT TO:

INT. ROOMING HOUSE - ENTRANCE HALL - DAY

INSERT - a name plate above a bell. It reads: ELIZABETH WINKLER.
 
CLOSE - the ASSISTANT'S hand ruffles through a notebook full of addresses. 
All except the last three have been crossed out. His finger stops at 'HANS 
BECKERT, c/o E. WINKLER. Gleder St. 15, 2nd Floor.'

WIDER - The ASSISTANT stands by a door on the landing. He rings and puts his 
notebook away. A small frightened old lady named MRS. WINKLER answers the 
door. A large key-ring is fixed to her apron. The ASSISTANT greets her. 

				MRS. WINKLER 
			(very softly) 
		Morning. 

				ASSISTANT
		Does a Mr. Beckert live here? 

				MRS. WINKLER
		What?

				ASSISTANT
			(louder) 
		Does Mr. Beckert live here? 

				MRS. WINKLER
		I'm afraid I can't hear you ... I'm a bit hard 
		of hearing.

				ASSISTANT
			 (to one side) 
		As if I couldn't tell. 
			(shouting) 
		Does a Mr. Beckert live here?
 
				MRS. WINKLER 
			(a little worried) 
		Oh. Mr. Beckert?  Yes... yes, of course. Yes, 
		Mr. Beckert lives here. I'm afraid he has just 
		gone out. 

				ASSISTANT
		Too bad ... I wanted to see him.

				MRS. WINKLER 
			(very softly) 
		Oh yes. 

She shrugs her shoulders. 

				ASSISTANT
			(loudly)
		I'm from the Income Tax Office. 

				MRS. WINKLER 
			(startled) 
		Oh, good God! The tax people! Yes... yes. Would 
		you like ... would you like to wait? 

She gestures to him to come in. He bows. 

				ASSISTANT
 		Yes, thank you.

				MRS. WINKLER 
		Not at all.

The ASSISTANT enters.

					CUT TO:

INT. THE MURDERER'S ROOM - DAY

Moments later, MRS. WINKLER unlocks the door to the room and allows the 
Assistant to enter.

				MRS. WINKLER 
		Please take a seat.

The ASSISTANT puts his hat on the round central table and sits down in an 
armchair beside it. She goes out. As soon as the door closes, he jumps up to 
examine the room, but he hears MRS. WINKLER coming back and only just has 
time to sit down again. She hands him a newspaper.

				MRS. WINKLER
		Perhaps you'd like something to read?

				ASSISTANT
 			(loudly) 
		Thank you. You're most kind. 

				MRS. WINKLER
		Not at all.

He takes the paper. 

INSERT - the front page of the 'General Anzeiger' for 24th November, 1930.

WIDER - The ASSISTANT and MRS. WINKLER. 

 				ASSISTANT
		Tell me, Mrs. Winkler, does Mr. Beckert take 
		this paper?

MRS. WINKLER, already at the door, turns around. 

				MRS. WINKLER 
			(astonished) 
		Mr. Beckert?
			(laughs)
		No, he always borrows mine.

				ASSISTANT
 		Ah...
			(beat)
		Thank you.

MRS. WINKLER nods and leaves the room. As soon as she has closed the door 
again, the ASSISTANT gets up and looks at the table where he put his hat. He 
throws the hat on the chair and carefully raises the cloth. 

HIGH ANGLE - the ASSISTANT bends over the table and scratches the wood with 
his fingernails.

					CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - DAY

A fruit-seller's barrow, piled high with apples, oranges and bananas. From a 
strut hang some superb pineapples. The MURDERER stands behind the barrow 
dolefully eating an apple, at the same time gesturing to the fruit-seller to 
put another in the bag being filled for him. The MURDERER watches the seller
weigh the bag, then puts yet another apple in it.

					CUT TO:

INT. MURDERER'S ROOM - DAY

HIGH ANGLE - the ASSISTANT finishes his inspection. Disappointed by the 
negative search, he slowly replaces the cloth. 

NEW ANGLES - the ASSISTANT beside the table. Above his head, hangs a Tiffany-
style glass lampshade, and beyond him a large pottery stove stands against 
the wall. As the ASSISTANT carefully surveys the room, we PAN across from the 
bedside table to the double windows. A bowl of fruit and other foodstuffs are 
stored in the space between them. We recognize the same wide windowseat where 
the MURDERER wrote his letter to the press. We PAN to a wicker waste-paper 
basket from which the ASSISTANT extracts an empty cigarette packet, a 
publicity hand-out for cigars and a postcard, which he lifts up and studies 
carefully. Deep in thought, he pulls his notebook from his pocket and starts 
writing notes.

					CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - DAY

The MURDERER eats an apple and looks at a window display in a cutlery and 
silverware shop. We see him from inside through the glass, his face framed in 
the reflection of a diamond-shaped display of knives. The reflections of 
other cutlery form geometric patterns around him. We see the street behind 
him and his VIEW of the shop window: the knives are arranged around a 
diamond-shaped mirror on the screen at the back of the window. 

The MURDERER munches his apple. Suddenly he stops chewing. Reflected in the 
mirror he can see a little girl leaning against the railings behind him on 
the sidewalk, the image framed with knives. The MURDERER stands transfixed, 
staring at her. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes bulging.
His takes on the appearance it did when he examined himself in the mirror
earlier.
 
The little girl leans nonchalantly on the railings, obviously waiting for 
someone. The MURDERER'S arms fall limply to his side and his eyes close as he 
sways forward against the shop front. 

Then the fit subsides and he recovers slightly. Seen in reflection, the 
little girl leaves the railings and goes out of sight. The MURDERER slowly 
turns around and follows her with his eyes. He puts his hands in his pockets
and sets off slowly after her, whistling the 'Peer Gynt' theme. 

A BOOKSHOP WINDOW, in which hangs a spinning cardboard circle with an 
endlessly spiral design near a huge cardboard arrow bobbing quickly up and 
down. The little girl stares fascinated by the continual motion, until she 
turns away distracted by something else. Just as the 'Peer Gynt' theme begins 
to accompany her -- WHISTLED piercingly by the MURDERER o.s. -- the girl 
wanders on past other shop windows and delightedly flings her arms around a 
smart young woman who approaches her. The whistling stops abruptly. 

				LITTLE GIRL
		Oh, Mother! I was looking for you!

				MOTHER
		You don't have to do this. You know why ...

The woman and the little girl walk off, arms around each other. We FOLLOW 
them along the pavement as they pass the MURDERER who has ducked into the 
bookshop doorway, pretending to look at some books displayed there. He looks 
around furtively and eventually steps out into the street to watch them go, 
his eyes drooping and his mouth partly open. Behind him the arrow continues 
to fly up and down, its shadow appearing to pierce the revolving spiral at 
every descent, as if stabbing at the MURDERER's heart.  He puts his hands 
together on his chest, nervously scratching them.  The MURDERER turns to see: 

A NEARBY CAFÉ...

...with tables outside, screened from the street by a trellis of climbing 
plants. The MURDERER enters and sits at a table to the left of the entrance, 
his face just visible in profile through the foliage. A WAITER comes out to 
serve him even though the café's not open yet.

				WAITER
		Good evening ... What would you like? 

				MURDERER
		Coffee.

The WAITER starts to withdraw.

				MURDERER 
			(abruptly)
		No! ... a vermouth ... No, a brandy. 

The WAITER bows and withdraws. 

				MURDERER 
			(exhausted)
		Brandy ... brandy ...

We TRACK in towards the foliage. The MURDERER whistles his theme, then stops. 
He takes out a cigarette as the WAITER arrives to pour a brandy. 

				WAITER
		There you are.

The MURDERER drinks the brandy in a gulp. 

				MURDERER 
			(in a broken voice) 
		Another one. 

The WAITER'S hand pours another glass. 

				WAITER
		There.

The MURDERER swallows the second glass, leans forward and stares fixedly in 
front of him. With a mechanical gesture he puts a cigarette in his mouth and 
immediately takes it out again, throwing it down. 

He quickly presses his two bunched fists into his eyes and starts to whistle
again. Then he covers his ears. In the background the lights of the café come
on and faintly light up the table. He immediately stops whistling and gets
up. We TRACK away from him rapidly. 

				MURDERER
		The bill.

				WAITER 
			(coming up)
		Two brandies. One sixty-five please. 

Coins CLINK on the saucer. 

				WAITER 
		Thanks very much.

The MURDERER departs, whistling, his hands in his pockets. 

					CUT TO:

INT. INSPECTOR LOHMANN'S OFFICE - DAY

LOHMANN, an enormous cigar in his hand, sits at his desk thinking. Beside 
him, his ASSISTANT makes his report.

				ASSISTANT 
		Number 24: Beckert. He does not take the 
		Stadtischer Courier. A walnut table with a 
		cloth. No red pencil, nor any traces of such a 
		pencil. No writing paper. In the wastepaper 
		basket, a printed advertisement and a colored 
		postcard ... 

LOHMANN thinks; behind him we see a map of the city. 

				ASSISTANT 
		... of a bunch of flowers, written on it: 
		'Regards, Paul.' No address of sender. An empty 
		cigarette packet, Ariston brand. A bag of 
		sweets with the name of a sweet shop ...

				LOHMANN 
			(interrupts) 
		Wait ... wait a moment. 

He screws up his eyes and thinks. 

				LOHMANN 
		Ariston, did you say?  A ... ris ... ton. 

We TRACK IN on LOHMANN'S face.  Deep in thought, he writes the name in the 
air. We TRACK IN closer.

				LOHMANN 
		That rings a bell ... Ariston. 

We TRACK IN even closer. Suddenly, LOHMANN seems to have got it. He grabs the 
telephone. 

				LOHMANN 
			(into phone)
		Hello. I want the file on the Marga Perl 
		murder. Right away. 

He hangs up. 

					CUT TO:

EXT. BALLOON SELLER'S KIOSK - DAY

The BLIND BEGGAR has just sold two balloons to a woman who pays and goes off. 

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		Thank you very much.

From far off, we hear the MURDERER'S whistling approach. His shadow passes. 
The BLIND BEGGAR lifts his head.

				BLIND BEGGAR 
			(to himself)
		That's funny... I've heard that somewhere 
		before. 

We TRACK IN closer.

				BLIND BEGGAR 
			(to himself)
		It was ... it was ...

Some passers-by watch with concern as the BLIND BEGGAR walks forward, away 
from his kiosk, tapping with his stick. Near some PLANKS, half covering a 
hole in the road, the BLIND BEGGAR, still holding his balloons, waves to 
someone -- to the surprise of some passers-by. 

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		Hey, hey, Henry!

HENRY, a young man in a cap, rushes to join him.

				HENRY
		What is it? 

HENRY takes the BLIND BEGGAR'S hand.

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		Listen a moment. There's someone whistling. 
		Can't you hear him?

HENRY shakes his head, no.  The BLIND BEGGAR turns his face in the direction 
of the whistling. HENRY looks and listens.

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		There.

HENRY cranes his neck. But the whistling suddenly stops. 

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		He's just stopped ... Did you see him, the guy 
		who was whistling? 

				HENRY
		Yes, yes. I can still see him. 

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		Yes? 

				HENRY
		Sure. He's talking to a little girl as he walks 
		down the street with her.

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		After him, and don't let him go. 

				HENRY
		But why? 

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		The day Elsie Beckmann was killed someone 
		bought a balloon off me. He was with a little 
		girl ... 

HENRY understands and rushes off.

				BLIND BEGGAR 
		... and the guy whistled just like that!

					CUT TO:

EXT. THE QUIET STREET - DAY

HENRY runs to the end of the roadworks and looks around. The MURDERER is 
nowhere in sight.  We FOLLOW a concerned HENRY as he enters the quiet street 
running at a right angle to the previous one. In a basement, a greengrocer's 
shop is lit up. He approaches and looks through the window. 

HENRY'S POV - The MURDERER and the LITTLE GIRL are being served by an old 
woman. She hands them a big paper bag and some sweets for the GIRL, who 
thanks her with a curtsy as the MURDERER pays. 

HENRY IN THE STREET - in front of the window; he stands up quickly, then 
hesitates for a moment. Taking one last look through the window, he runs off.

HENRY hides in a corner of the roadworks between a tar boiler and a great 
roll of cable. He watches the street.
 
The MURDERER and the LITTLE GIRL come out of the shop. She curtsies and  
offers him the bag of fruit. He takes an orange. Anxiously, he looks right 
and left, but there is no one in sight. Then he sweeps back his coat and puts 
his hand into his trouser pocket. 

CLOSE - he takes out a switchblade knife and flicks it open. The blade glints 
and flashes in the gloom.

ANGLE ON HENRY - ready to jump out.

CLOSE - the blade peeling an orange. 

ANGLE ON HENRY - he searches his pockets; he takes out a piece of chalk. 

CLOSE - the palm of HENRY's left hand on which he draws a large letter M, 
heavy with chalk dust. 

ANGLE ON the MURDERER, facing the girl. He finishes peeling his orange and 
throws the peel onto the ground. HENRY walks up, quickly but casually. As 
though by mistake, he knocks against the MURDERER and so gets a chance to 
slam his left hand against the back of the MURDERER'S left shoulder.  
Terrified, the MURDERER backs away, dropping the knife.

				HENRY 
			(feigning annoyance) 
		Damn it, man! Are you crazy, throwing peels on 
		the ground! 

HENRY gestures at the peel and walks off. 

				HENRY (o.s.)
		I might have broken my neck! Unbelievable.

CLOSE - the knife on the ground.

				HENRY (o.s.)
		I should report you to the police ... You're a 
		danger to the public.

The LITTLE GIRL bends over and picks up the knife.  PULL BACK to a WIDER SHOT 
as she rises and tries to hand the knife to the MURDERER. But he is still 
staring at HENRY.  The LITTLE GIRL gives the still shaken MURDERER a little 
nudge. 

				LITTLE GIRL 
		Uncle.

The MURDERER is startled by the nudge but quickly recovers.  He takes her 
hand, with the knife in it, and presses it to his chest as we CIRCLE AROUND 
behind him, to discover -- high on his back and unbenownst to him -- a ragged 
letter 'M' outlined in chalk. 

					CUT TO:

INT. INSPECTOR LOHMANN'S OFFICE - DAY

LOHMANN sits at his desk, his ASSISTANT standing beside him. LOHMANN studies 
a dossier, following the lines with his finger. Suddenly he raises his head.

				LOHMANN 
		There ... that's it. They found three cigarette
		butts where the crime took place -- Aristons.

				ASSISTANT 
		Yes, the cigarettes are the same, but there is 
		no old wooden table.

Nervously, LOHMANN waves away the objection and plunges back into the 
dossier.
 
				ASSISTANT 
			(thoughtfully) 
		Of course ... he could have written the letter 
		somewhere else, but ... 

The ASSISTANT's eyes turn to LOHMANN'S office window. He glances at the sill.

				ASSISTANT 
			(suddenly leaning towards LOHMANN) 
		... Heavens, the windowsill!

					CUT TO:

INT. MURDERER'S ROOM - DAY

CLOSE - The windowsill.  A hand holds a magnifying glass through which we see 
the grain of the wood on the sill. 

WIDER - LOHMANN and his ASSISTANT closely examine the sill. LOHMANN holds the 
magnifying glass and we see them in profile. 

				LOHMANN 
		You're right!

				ASSISTANT 
			(opening one of the windows) 
		Just a minute! 

He bends over the gap between the double windows, licks his finger, and 
pushes the wet finger into the gap. He examines his finger, then turns to 
show it to LOHMANN. 

CLOSE - his dirty finger. 

				ASSISTANT 
		Red pencil shavings!

WIDER - LOHMANN and his ASSISTANT stand in front of the window. 

				LOHMANN 
			(with great satisfaction)
		Good God ... At last, we are getting somewhere! 

					CUT TO:

INT. UNDERWORLD MEETING ROOM - DAY

SCHRÄNKER sits, wearing his bowler. The SAFE-BREAKER is on the telephone 
opposite him. The BURGLAR and the PICK-POCKET stand beside him. They all wear 
overcoats.

				SAFE-BREAKER
			(into the phone) 
		Yes... yes ... What? 

The doorbell RINGS.

				SAFE-BREAKER
			(to the others) 
		They're on his trail. 

				CON-MAN 
			(enters and joins the group)
		They've found him? 

				PICK-POCKET
		The beggars found him. 

				BURGLAR 
		He was talking to a little girl. 

				CON-MAN 
		Tell me more.

				PICK-POCKET 
		They put a mark on him.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
			(to the others)
		Can't you be quiet?!
			(into the phone) 
		What's that? 

					CUT TO:

INT. TELEPHONE BOOTH - DAY

HENRY's on the line.

				HENRY 
			(into the phone) 
		They're following the sign. They're not 
		letting him out of their sight for a second.

					CUT TO:

EXT. CITY STREETS - SURVEILLANCE MONTAGE - DAY

The MURDERER walks slowly down a street with the LITTLE GIRL. 

				HENRY (o.s.)
		He's being watched.

A passer-by throws down a cigarette butt. A tramp comes up, accompanied by a 
colleague with one leg, picks up the stub, and follows the MURDERER.

NEW ANGLE - the MURDERER and the LITTLE GIRL, as they reach a column covered 
with posters. The two BEGGARS follow close behind. The ONE-LEGGED MAN 
disappears behind the column and a MAN IN A CAP takes his place. 

					DISSOLVE TO:

NEW ANGLE - STREET

Seen from a half-open door. Behind the door is the outline of a MAN ON WATCH.
The MURDERER and the LITTLE GIRL cross the road, followed warily by the MAN 
IN A CAP and his partner.  The MAN ON WATCH takes over for the partner. 

					DISSOLVE TO:

ANOTHER ANGLE - the MURDERER and the LITTLE GIRL passing in front of a cheap 
café. The two beggars are still following. The MAN IN THE CAP taps on the 
window and a man emerges and takes over for him in trailing the MURDERER. 

					DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. TOY SHOP - DAY

The window display of a toy shop, seen from the inside, full of dolls, teddy 
bears, and all kinds of toys. A lot of traffic in the street. The MURDERER 
and the LITTLE GIRL stop in front of the window. He talks to her 
enthusiastically and she eagerly points out a toy to him. The MURDERER nods 
his head. 

NEW ANGLE - the entrance of the shop from the street. The MURDERER is just 
about to go in when the LITTLE GIRL sees the chalk mark and grabs his sleeve.
 
				LITTLE GIRL 
		Uncle. 

				MURDERER
		What is it?

				LITTLE GIRL 
		You're all dirty. 

				MURDERER
		Where? 

He looks at himself in a mirror beside the doorway. 

				LITTLE GIRL 
		There, on your shoulder.

CLOSE - the MURDERER'S reflection in the mirror. He turns and sees the M 
reflected. His eyes bulge. 

CLOSER - the letter M. 

WIDER - the LITTLE GIRL and the MURDERER together.

				LITTLE GIRL 
		Here, I'll clean it off... 

She tries to rub off the letter with her handkerchief. The MURDERER stares at 
it in the mirror. Suddenly frightened, he turns nervously towards the street. 

MURDERER'S POV: a BEGGAR, hiding behind a beer truck. 

RESUME on the panicking MURDERER and the LITTLE GIRL. 

				LITTLE GIRL 
			(astonished) 
		Whatever's the matter? 

				MURDERER
		Come on ... let's go.

He takes her hand and is about to leave when he hears someone WHISTLE 
sharply. Terrified, he lets go of the LITTLE GIRL and runs away.

RESUME on the BEGGAR, looking around, distraught. Then he WHISTLES through 
his fingers. 

ANOTHER ANGLE - a street corner with a street lamp, with a pawnbroker's shop 
in the background. The MURDERER runs to the corner, where he startles easily 
at the sound of more shrill WHISTLES that seemingly have him surrounded.

Uncertain, he moves first one way and then the other, before finally deciding 
to turn down a side street. We PAN WITH him to reveal a man standing nearby, 
pressed tensely against the wall of a building, watching the MURDERER. Is he 
one of the beggars?  Or just an innocent bystander?  They regard one another 
for a long, agonizing moment.  Nervously, the MURDERER hesitates a moment, is 
about to tip his hat to him, but then walks off briskly. The man watches the 
MURDERER depart, then, after a long moment, begins to follow him.

HIGH ANGLE - the MURDERER in an empty street, trying to shake off his 
pursuers. He turns sharp left and crosses the road, but at the far end two 
beggars appear. The MURDERER retraces his steps and stops, undecided, in front 
of the covered entrance GATE to a huge block of offices. In the foreground, a 
pursuer blocks the middle of the street.

GATEWAY - The gate, a geometrical structure, leads to the inner courtyard of 
an office building. We TRACK rapidly with him as the MURDERER frantically 
runs in and hides behind a buttress. Anxiously, he watches the gateway. 

MURDERER'S POV - An open gate on the other side of the courtyard leading to 
another street. A policeman passes across it. 

RESUME on the MURDERER in his hiding-place; he flinches at the sight of the 
policeman and presses his back against the wall.

TWO BEGGARS - They appear in the gateway which the MURDERER came through.

RESUME on the MURDERER, poking his head out to look at the street. 

THREE BEGGARS - A third beggar arrives and join the other two. They take 
stock of the situation. The FIRST BEGGAR gives a signal and the two others go 
off right and left to circle the building. The siren of a fire engine BLARES 
in the distance. 

WIDE ANGLE - From the street we see the gateway where the MURDERER, a tiny 
figure, hides behind a pillar. Two fire engines ROAR past, sirens BLARING and 
lights flashing -- and blocking the remaining beggar's view. By the time the 
fire engines have passed, the MURDERER has disappeared. The FIRST BEGGAR 
quickly crosses the road and goes through the gateway arch, searching vainly 
for the MURDERER. The two other BEGGARS return and join him in the courtyard. 

THE THREE BEGGARS - They confer.

				2ND BEGGAR
		Anyway, he hasn't come out. We would have seen 
		him. 

				3RD BEGGAR
		Impossible.

				1ST BEGGAR
		He must be in the courtyard, then. He didn't 
		come out this way either.

				2ND BEGGAR
		He must be somewhere.

The BEGGARS peer around.  

BEGGAR'S POV - PAN ALONG the face of the office building. The sun is now very 
low and the windows are lighted.

				1ST BEGGAR (o.s.)
		Maybe he's gone to hide inside the building. 

A clock STRIKES six o'clock. 

THE THREE BEGGARS

				2ND BEGGAR
		Hell! The offices will be closing.

				1ST BEGGAR
		As long as he doesn't get out with all the 
		people coming out.

The 2ND BEGGAR rushes off to look through the other gateway. 

				2ND BEGGAR 
			(coming back)
		Hell! Here come the first ones already. 

				1ST BEGGAR
		Let's go out into the street.

He starts to rush off. Office workers begin to exit the building. 

				1ST BEGGAR
		Keep a sharp look out.

The other two run towards the other entrance as the office workers start 
streaming out, some riding bicycles. The 2ND BEGGAR, pretending to sell 
matches, watches them carefully. 

				VARIOUS VOICES 
		Excuse me, I just want to light my cigarette 
		... My holidays start tomorrow ... First I'm 
		going to Konigsberg ... With my ulcer, I can't 
		eat things like that ... The boss came and saw
		me today...

In the foreground, a car passes, HONKING its horn.

					CUT TO:

INT. THE MURDERER'S ROOM - NIGHT

LOHMANN'S ASSISTANT sits on the windowsill. Two other plainclothesmen sit in 
the foreground.

				ASSISTANT 
		Put out the light, otherwise he'll suspect 
		something when he gets back.

A PLAINCLOTHES MAN rises and switches the light off, the ASSISTANT looks out 
of the window. 

				PLAINCLOTHES MAN
		What's the time?

				ASSISTANT 
			(checks his watch)
		Nearly six-thirty. 

					CUT TO:

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT

A uniformed watchman finishes closing and locking the imposing security gate 
that goes right across the gateway entrance. He greets a passing policeman 
and goes back into the building.  We HOLD on the empty courtyard for a beat 
or two.  Where is the murderer?

					CUT TO:

INT. TELEPHONE BOOTH - NIGHT

The 1ST BEGGAR talks into the phone to the underworld bosses.

				1ST BEGGAR
		He must still be in the building. Anyway, he 
		didn't come out with the others.

					CUT TO:

INT. THE UNDERWORLD MEETING ROOM - NIGHT

The SAFE-BREAKER, a cigarette-holder in his mouth, is on the telephone in the 
crooks' MEETING ROOM. Standing beside him, SCHRÄNKER, still wearing overcoat 
and bowler, plays with his stick.
 
				SAFE-BREAKER 
			(into the phone)
		Okay ... yes ... yes ... no, just a moment. 

He covers the mouthpiece with his hand and turns to SCHRÄNKER. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		The beggars have gone for reinforcements to 
		search the whole area. They say the murderer must 
		still be in the building. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Hmm ... 
			(thoughtful pause)
		What kind of building is it? 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
			(into the phone)
		What kind of building is it? 

					CUT TO:

INT. TELEPHONE BOOTH - NIGHT

				BEGGAR 
			(into the phone)
		Nothing but offices. I don't know what's in the 
		cellar. There's a branch of the Savings Bank on 
		the ground floor, and from the first to the 
		fifth, nothing but offices, and above that, 
		lofts.

					CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE BUILDING - THE TOP FLOOR - NIGHT

Over bannisters on a top floor landing, we see the half-open door of an attic 
loft. To the right of the door is the NIGHT WATCHMAN'S time-switch. The 
WATCHMAN comes up and stops, astonished, in front of the door. 

				WATCHMAN 
			(to himself)
		Look at that. It's not possible. 

We TRACK WITH him as he pushes open the door and looks into the attic.

				WATCHMAN 
			(shouting)
		Anyone there? 

He turns on the light and enters. 

VARIOUS ANGLES - In the attic. The WATCHMAN walks down a corridor.

				WATCHMAN 
		Hello! Hello! Hello!

In the foreground, various compartments, all filled with a jumble of old 
furniture and bric-a-brac, cut off from the passage by fence-like partitions. 
The WATCHMAN passes behind them.  We TRACK WITH him past several compartments. 

				WATCHMAN
		Anyone there?

He checks one of the doors by shaking it to see whether it is firmly closed. 
He goes to the next one, where he does the same. 

NEW ANGLE - In the gloom of the attic, we can just make out the MURDERER, 
hiding in a corner. We hear the disappearing FOOTSTEPS of the WATCHMAN and 
the rattle of doors.

				WATCHMAN 
			(o.s., quietly, to himself)
		What next!?
			(shouting again) 
		Anyone there? 

RESUME on the WATCHMAN seen through the fence-like partitions. He shakes a 
door, looks once more along the corridor, then turns away.

				WATCHMAN
		Bah! Damn carelessness ... All that trouble for 
		one door.

He goes out. 
 
RESUME on the MURDERER as the attic light goes out.  He stands up, 
tremendously relieved.  We hear the door that leads out onto the landing 
close and a key turn in the lock. The MURDERER stands alert, breathing 
heavily, realizing he's trapped. 

					CUT TO:

INT. UNDERWORLD MEETING ROOM - NIGHT

SCHRÄNKER, the PICK-POCKET, the CON-MAN, the BURGLAR and the SAFE-BREAKER are 
grouped around the table. SCHRÄNKER, standing, looks down superciliously, 
holding his cane handle down on the table. The SAFE-BREAKER is on the 
telephone.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
			(into the phone)
		Yes ...ah!  Good. 

He covers the receiver and turns to the others. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		It looks as if the guy is really cornered now. 
		I think we'd better tell the police straight 
		away. 

				CON-MAN 
		I agree.

The BURGLAR and the PICK-POCKET also agree.  The SAFE-BREAKER starts to talk 
into the telephone again.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
			(into the phone)
		Now then, listen carefully ...
     
With authority, SCHRÄNKER takes the receiver from him. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(into the phone)
		Hello. Just a moment ... What? ... Okay ... and 
		call me back. 

He hangs up.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		What is it? What's got into you? 

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(grimly) 
		Are you crazy or something? 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Why?

				SCHRÄNKER 
		The police? No ... we're going to get the guy 
		ourselves ... Listen ... now, the time is ...

Clumsily, everyone fumbles for a watch.

				CON-MAN 
		Eight o'clock.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Good ... Then, at ...
			(counts aloud)
		... nine ... ten ... 
			(decisively)
		... eleven o'clock... !

					CUT TO:

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - GATEWAY - NIGHT

The gateway of the office block. From the street outside, we can see through 
the sliding gates across the courtyard to the lighted windows of the 
WATCHMEN'S OFFICE. Somewhere a clock STRIKES eleven, as a uniformed policeman 
walks up to the gates and stops. He RINGS the bell. One of the watchmen comes 
out into the courtyard. 

WATCHMAN'S POV reveals the empty street through the gates and the policeman 
saluting behind them.

				POLICEMAN
		Good evening. Did you know your gates ... 

CLOSE - THE GATE

...it is locked tight.

				POLICEMAN
		... weren't closed?

				WATCHMAN (o.s.)
		What? But that's impossible... 

He comes forward, but only his hands holding a lamp are visible.

				WATCHMAN (o.s.)
		I've only just ... 

CLOSE - WATCHMAN'S HAND - shaking the gate. 

				WATCHMAN (o.s.)
		... But it is ...

He stops suddenly. We PAN to his shocked face. 

SMASH CUT - the POLICEMAN'S gloved hand points a revolver through the 
ironwork. 

				POLICEMAN (o.s.)
		Open up and no noise!

CLOSE - THE WATCHMAN - stunned, behind the gate. 

REVERSE SHOT - THE POLICEMAN - who turns out to be SCHRÄNKER in disguise. He 
points two revolvers. 

				SCHRÄNKER
		Are you going to open up, then? 
			(a pause; then, brutally)
		Come on ... get it open!

The WATCHMAN slides back the gate. SCHRÄNKER goes through and with the barrel 
of one of his guns pushes the WATCHMAN towards his office. The gate stays 
open. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Get a move on!

ANGLE ON THE GATE - which has been pushed open just wide enough to let one 
person through at a time. The key ring swaying from the key in the lock of 
the gate. O.s. SCHRÄNKER whistles a few bars of the song, 'Be faithful and 
honest.' Someone else echoes his whistling. 

The SAFE-BREAKER appears and signals to a group of colleagues to follow him. 
They pass through the gate, loaded with bags and suitcases. They all gather 
in front of ...

THE WATCHMEN'S OFFICE. Over the heads of the whole group, through the glass 
partition and half-open door, we see the WATCHMAN sitting terrified on a 
chair with SCHRÄNKER and the CON-MAN standing over him.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		How many other watchmen are there in the 
		building? 

The WATCHMAN does not move. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Okay then, so you don't want to answer, huh?

The WATCHMAN shakes his head. The CON-MAN grabs him by the waistcoat.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(ironically) 
		Okay, then. Okay.

He shuts the door from the inside. Through the glass panes of the door, we 
see SCHRÄNKER saying something to the WATCHMAN who still refuses to reply. At 
a sign from SCHRÄNKER, the CON-MAN reaches over the seated WATCHMAN'S 
shoulders and pulls back the WATCHMAN'S arms. The crowd of crooks press 
forward to watch the torture through the glass, thus partially blocking our 
view. After a second's silence, there is a sharp SCREAM. SCHRÄNKER opens the 
door and speaks to the crooks standing outside.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(matter-of-fact)
		Two more watchmen, guys. 

					CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT

HALLWAY - One of the other watchmen comes through and resets a time switch on 
the wall and then moves on out of sight.

THE ATTIC - where the MURDERER, seen through the slatted partitions, tries to 
force the lock of the main attic door with his knife. He breathes heavily and
swears in a low voice. 

CLOSE - the lock over the MURDERER'S shoulder. He removes one of the screws 
around the lock and rattles the lock furiously -- but it won't open.

				MURDERER  
		Damn it!

He examines the lock from underneath. On his back the chalked letter M is 
still visible.  

HUGE CLOSE-UP - he slips the blade of his knife between the lock and the 
door, trying to pry open the catch, but the blade snaps and the point falls 
to the ground. 

WIDER - the MURDERER half-standing, half leaning on the door. 

				MURDERER
		Shit!

He raises his arm to throw the knife handle away. He freezes abruptly, arm up 
and eyes rolling wildly. He hears something on the other side of the door and 
listens intently.

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR - a WATCHMAN passes. He resets the time-switch. 
As he moves down the hall, we PAN UP to reveal a thug perched in a transom 
just above him. The thug jumps the WATCHMAN, knocking him out of the FRAME. 
Sounds of a struggle, then silence.

IN THE ATTIC - the MURDERER listens intently at the door. He tries to peer
through the keyhole. Relieved to see nothing, he shakes his head, removes his 
hat and wearily wipes his brow.

FOURTH FLOOR LANDING - Two crooks work on the lock of a door; one makes an 
impression, the other passes him the appropriate skeleton key. A third man 
comes up the stairs carrying a case. 

FIRST FLOOR LANDING - SCHRÄNKER stands on the steps. Two crooks pass him 
carrying suitcases.
 
				SCHRÄNKER 
		Careful with the lights. And don't walk like 
		elephants. 

The PICK-POCKET arrives from the basement wearing a raincoat and cap. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		What's the story?

				PICK-POCKET 
		He isn't in the basement. We've been through it 
		with a fine comb and found nothing. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Hmm!

				PICK-POCKET 
		Fried and Auguste are still going through the 
		boiler rooms.

The PICK-POCKET starts back down the stairs when SCHRÄNKER calls him back. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Wait.

Two crooks carrying an unconscious watchman pass by in the background.

				CROOK 
			(to SCHRÄNKER) 
		That's the last one.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(to PICK-POCKET) 
		Go up and join Emile. He needs help. 

				PICK-POCKET 
		Okay.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Go on, get a move on! 

The PICK-POCKET hurries up the stairs.

WATCHMEN'S OFFICE - Dressed rather incongruously in a smart overcoat, silk 
scarf, and bowler, the SAFE-BREAKER pores over a plan on the table. Another 
time-switch is on the wall behind him. Propped up against the desk, the 
second watchman lies bound and unconscious. The two crooks carry the third 
watchman in, followed by the PICK-POCKET. 

				PICK-POCKET 
		Schränker sent me. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Good. Listen carefully.

He points to a time-switch. 

CLOSE - THE TIMESWITCH

The SAFE-BREAKER'S gloved hand points at the alarm with his cigarette holder. 

				SAFE-BREAKER (o.s.)
		It's a new type of time-switch. 

CLOSE - BLUEPRINT 

The gloved hand points to a plan of the building. 

				SAFE-BREAKER (o.s.)
		Here is a general plan of the lay-out. If the 
		time-switches are not reset at exactly the right 
		time, they automatically set off an alarm at the 
		nearest police station. Get it? 

RESUME on the time clock. 

				PICK-POCKET (o.s.)
		Sure.

The SAFE-BREAKER'S hand puts a key into the lock and turns it. 

				SAFE-BREAKER (o.s.)
		Like that.

WIDER - the two of them stand in front of the switch. The PICK-POCKET looks 
at the plan.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Have you got it?

				PICK-POCKET 
		What do you think I am, some kind of idiot?

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Could be.

He hands him the key. The PICK-POCKET sets off at a run to make his rounds.

STAIRCASE - SCHRÄNKER stands, listening to the report of two more of his men. 

				1ST CROOK
		He isn't in the boiler room either. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Fine.

Two men pass with cylinders of gas and an oxy-acetylene cutter. 

				2ND CROOK
		We moved all the coal.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(shouting up to an upper floor) 
		Hey!

On the landing above, the BURGLAR sets up the acetylene cutter in front of a 
door. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Are you crazy? 

The BURGLAR stops his work and straightens up. SCHRÄNKER and the other two 
men look up at him.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		What if that door's wired up already? Do you 
		want to get the police out here right away?

				BURGLAR 
		Okay. But we've got to get in if we're going to 
		search the whole building.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(exasperated) 
		But not by the door, you fool! 

He taps his temple. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		The office on the floor above ... go through 
		the ceiling. 

HIGH ANGLE - three crooks coming out of a hallway onto the fourth floor 
landing. They move towards the bannisters. One of them, wearing a beret 
pulled down over his ears, leans over and shouts. 

				CROOK
		Nothing!

OFFICE - SECOND FLOOR 

The BURGLAR again.  He drills with some difficulty through the floor with a 
power-drill. The SAFE-BREAKER'S legs can be seen next to him where he stands 
holding a torch. The BURGLAR'S tool bag lies open on the floor beside him.

IN THE ATTIC

The MURDERER, using the broken knife, tries to lever a nail out of one of the 
wooden uprights of a partition. 

CLOSE - THE BROKEN BLADE 

WIDER - as he struggles to remove the nail by hand. 

CLOSE AGAIN - he pulls the nail out.

OFFICE - SECOND FLOOR 

The BURGLAR and the SAFE-BREAKER have now managed to make a decent-sized hole 
in the floor.  The BURGLAR throws down a rope ladder. 

				BURGLAR 
		Right ... let's go.

He lowers himself through the hole. The SAFE-BREAKER leans over and watches 
him climb down.

TOP FLOOR

The PICK-POCKET, still studying the plan of the building, has now reached the 
time-switch outside the main door to the attics. He is just about to put the 
key in the lock when he hears a faint sound of TAPPING. Glancing around 
nervously, he stops to listen.

IN THE ATTIC, the MURDERER, squatting behind the door, hammers something. 

CLOSE - he flattens one end of the nail with the handle of his knife. 

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR, the PICK-POCKET creeps nearer to the door, 
listening carefully. The TAPPING continues. Wildly excited, he makes for the 
stairs; but he suddenly remembers the time-switch and turns back on his heels 
and quickly resets it. He pauses for a second to listen again, and then 
rushes downstairs. 

TOP FLOOR - the PICK-POCKET, plan in hand, races down the stairs from the 
sixth floor landing. 

ON THE FIFTH FLOOR

Some crooks force a door on the fifth floor landing. As the PICK-POCKET races 
past, one of them turns round. 

				5TH FLOOR CROOK
		Hey, what's up? 

The PICK-POCKET doesn't stop.

				5TH FLOOR CROOK
		Hey, can't you answer me? What's happening? Oy, 
		Paul, you might tell us.

FOURTH FLOOR

A man in a beret runs out into the hallway, torch in one hand, revolver in 
the other. He leans over the bannisters to get a better view of the PICK-
POCKET. 

				CROOK IN BERET
		What's going on?

				PICK-POCKET 
			(breathless)
		I heard someone banging! 

Another crook emerges into the hallway. The PICK-POCKET races past. 

				SECOND CROOK 
		What did you say? 

				CROOK IN BERET
		What's the hurry?
 
OFFICE - SECOND FLOOR

The SAFE-BREAKER who leans over the hole in the floor, shining his torch to 
light up the room below. Hearing the shouting, he jumps up.

He emerges into the HALLWAY and grabs at the PICK-POCKET as he passes. 

				PICK-POCKET 
			(shaking free)
		I must see Schränker!

FIRST FLOOR

The PICK-POCKET as he hurls himself towards SCHRÄNKER, pointing frantically 
upwards.

				PICK-POCKET
			(out of breath)
		In the attic ... he's in the attic. I heard him 
		knocking. 

The SAFE-BREAKER joins them. 

				PICK-POCKET
		In the attic ... he's in the attic!

TOP FLOOR

IN THE ATTIC, the MURDERER has succeeded in bending the nail and tries to use 
it as a skeleton key. He puts it into the key-hole and feels around with it.

IN THE HALLWAY, the metallic sound of the nail inside the keyhole can still 
be heard, as SCHRÄNKER and the others arrive. They stop to listen and the men 
nudge one another expectantly. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Shhhhhh ... keep quiet!

The noise of the TAPPING can be heard clearly. 

IN THE ATTIC, the MURDERER, crouched behind the door, HAMMERS at the nail. On 
the floor, he studies his crude skeleton key. He turns back to the door and 
is about to push the nail into the keyhole when the handle moves very 
slightly. The MURDERER backs away and presses himself against the wall, eyes 
bulging with terror and staring fixedly at the door-handle. 

IN THE HALLWAY - CLOSE - THE LOCK - Two hands are testing a skeleton key 
selected from an assorted bunch on a large key ring.

IN THE ATTIC, the MURDERER presses his ear against the door to listen and 
then slips off down the corridor. Halfway down, he turns back to switch off 
the light, plunging the place into darkness except for the illumination
filtering in around the edges of the door and from skylight windows above. 
His shadow disappears into the recesses of the attic. A moment later, the 
door bursts open and SCHRÄNKER appears in silhouette against the hallway 
light.
 
Behind him three flashlights click on. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Get on with it, then.

The three flashlight beams pass across the wooden partitions. 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		He must be there. 

				OTHER VOICES (o.s.) 
		There's the switch.

The lights come on. The men see the corridor with the numerous compartments, 
piled high with old furniture. 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		Force the locks. 

Some crooks pass down the corridor. 

				VOICES 
		Come on. Hurry up! Get a move on!  Come on. Off 
		with it. 

Two crooks force a partition door.
 
WATCHMAN'S OFFICE

The CON-MAN sits by the window, dressed as a watchman. The PICK-POCKET comes 
in, excited.
 
				PICK-POCKET 
		We've got him!
	
				CON-MAN 
			(getting up)
		What? 

				PICK-POCKET 
		He's in the attic!

				CON-MAN 
		Yeah?

While the two crooks are talking, the FIRST WATCHMAN moves. Though still 
lying tied up on the floor, he makes an effort to haul himself onto his knees 
and reach the nearby alarm.

				PICK-POCKET (o.s.)
		Yes, I heard someone hammering ... 

				CON-MAN (o.s.) 
		Who?

				PICK-POCKET (o.s.)
 		... and immediately told Schränker ... 

				CON-MAN (o.s.) 
		What did he say?

				PICK-POCKET (o.s.)
		He's already up there with eight men. 

				CON-MAN (o.s.) 
		That's good.

				PICK-POCKET (o.s.)
		They'll get him any moment. 

				CON-MAN (o.s.) 
		You think so? 

The two crooks are face to face. 

				PICK-POCKET 
		I just came down to tell you. 

				CON-MAN 
		Great.

				PICK-POCKET 
			(importantly)
		If I hadn't been on the alert we might have been 
		looking for him for hours.

The CON-MAN rises quickly and grabs the PICK-POCKET by the shoulder. The 
WATCHMAN, on his knees, lifts his handcuffed hands towards the alarm bell. 
	
				CON-MAN (o.s.)
		Look out! ... the watchman!

The WATCHMAN'S hands snatch awkwardly at the alarm, connected directly to the 
local police station. A bell RINGS... 

					CUT TO:

INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT

A ticker-tape machine starts to operate by unrolling a punched tape. A 
POLICEMAN approaches and leans over to read the tape.

				POLICEMAN 
		Three ... one ... four.

CLOSE - the machine with the punched tape emerging. 

				POLICEMAN (o.s.) 
		Three, one, four.

CLOSE - a filing cabinet. A hand flicks through some cards and takes one out.

				ANOTHER POLICEMAN 
		Three, one, four.

					CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT

IN THE ATTIC - The PICK-POCKET bursts in to warn the men searching there. He 
shouts something incomprehensible.

				PICK-POCKET 
		Let's get out of here!

				A CROOK
		Are you crazy? 

General hubbub.

				PICK-POCKET 
		Yes, the cops'll be here any minute. The 
		watchman gave the alarm.
 
				CROOK
		Let's get out of here! 

They make for the door. 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		Stop! Quiet! 
 
SCHRÄNKER approaches.

				SCHRÄNKER
		We've five minutes more and six more 
		compartments to search. Carry on. Get on with 
		it. Only hurry! Come on, now!

The CROOKS start work again. One of them fiddles with the lock on a door. 
SCHRÄNKER pushes him aside. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Out of the way. You can't do it like that.

He CRASHES against the door with all his weight to break it open. 

IN ONE OF THE COMPARTMENTS, the MURDERER hides, weak with fear. Light feebly 
penetrates a skylight behind him. The sound of doors being forced open comes 
gradually closer.

				VOICE (o.s.)
		He's not in here. 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		Next door!

NOISE of splintering wood and tearing hinges. 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		Come on. Quicker.

The NOISE draws nearer and the MURDERER ducks down further and further into 
his corner.
 
				VOICE (o.s.)
		Not here either.

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		Come on. Keep it up! Next door.

As we hear the noise of another breaking door, the MURDERER disappears 
completely behind the bric-a-brac. Only his hat is visible.

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
 		Quick. We've only three minutes left. 

				VOICE (o.s.)
		Hurry up. Quickly!

				SEVERAL VOICES (o.s.)
		This one hasn't got a padlock ... he must be 
		here ... go on, open it ... it's locked from 
		the inside ... let me do it!

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		Hurry up. Only one minute left!

Deafening NOISE as the door is forced down and furniture crashes to the 
floor. Panic-stricken, the MURDERER leaps to his feet, spot-lit by a powerful 
flashlight beam, his face grotesquely twisted with fear.

				VOICE (o.s.)
		Here he is ... here he is... the bastard!

					CUT TO:

EXT. THE COURTYARD - NIGHT

A parked car in the street behind the gates which are still pulled back. The 
SAFE-BREAKER, on guard by the opening, checks on the men as they stream 
silently through, loaded with equipment which they throw into the car before 
slipping out of sight down the street. 

				SAFE-BREAKER  
		Get going. Hurry up! 
			(whistles through his fingers) 
		Everybody out!

The CON-MAN runs past, pulling his overcoat on over a WATCHMAN'S jacket. The 
SAFE-BREAKER pushes him outside. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Go on! Move! 

Other crooks pass through. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Come on, hurry up. Quick!
     
The CON-MAN goes back inside.

				CON-MAN 
		Christ! Get out while you can, you fool!

The CON-MAN makes for the door as the SAFE-BREAKER runs past the WATCHMEN'S 
OFFICE. A few stragglers come out of the building. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Anybody left?

				CROOK
		A few up top ... they're on their way.

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		No reason for you to wait for them. With or 
		without the guy, it doesn't matter, get away. 

He throws up his arms in despair. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		What are they up to, for Christ's sake ... 

He goes back into the building. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		At last. Thank God!
 
A final group leaves the building and the SAFE-BREAKER follows them. Two men 
carry the MURDERER down the steps, tied up and struggling inside a blanket. 

SCHRÄNKER, still in his policeman's uniform, and the SAFE-BREAKER are the 
last to leave. An ominous silence. 

					CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT

A few minutes later.

IN THE WATCHMEN'S OFFICE, the FIRST WATCHMAN lies unconscious, wrists 
handcuffed together.  The two other watchmen, slumped together in a corner, 
lie tied up and unconscious. 

VARIOUS SHOTS - broken doors on a couple of floors and in the attic.

HIGH ANGLE - SECOND FLOOR

A flashlight beam sweeps across the floor of the room below and rises towards 
the hole in the ceiling. 

				BURGLAR (o.s.)
		Hey! He's not down here. 

No reply. 

				BURGLAR (o.s.)
		Oh! Who's pulled up the ladder? 

The BURGLAR'S face comes into view, looking up from below.

				BURGLAR 	
		Who's pulled up the ladder? 

Someone throws the ladder down into the hole. 

				BURGLAR 
			(irritably)
		Bunch of morons. 

The BURGLAR laboriously climbs up the ladder. As his head and shoulders 
emerge from the hole, a flashlight clicks on and shines straight into his 
face. 

				BURGLAR 
		Hello.

A second flashlight lights him up. 

				A VOICE 
		Hands up.

				BURGLAR 
			(curtly) 
		How can I put my hands up when I'm trying to 
		hang onto the ladder? 

				THE VOICE
		Out of there.

PULL BACK as the BURGLAR climbs out of the hole, sits on the edge, and raises 
his hands. PULL FURTHER BACK to reveal that he's surrounded by policemen. 

				BURGLAR 
			(jokingly)
		For once I'm innocent ...

					CUT TO:

INT. INSPECTOR GROEBER'S OFFICE - NIGHT

The BURGLAR finishes his sentence.

				BURGLAR 
		... as a new born babe.

The BURGLAR sits by INSPECTOR GROEBER'S desk. A lamp shines into his face. 
GROEBER is a distinguished, well-groomed man of about fifty. Behind them sits 
a secretary, a little old man who looks over the top of his spectacles at the 
BURGLAR with mild surprise and then over to GROEBER. GROEBER cuts a cigar 
and, from behind the lamp, leans towards the BURGLAR. 

				GROEBER
		This will surprise you, Franz, but I believe 
		you. 

				BURGLAR 
			(not altogether reassured) 
		Hmmm. 
			(laughs nervously)
		Then everything is in order, Inspector. 
			(gets up) 
		I can leave then ...

GROEBER'S hand comes into shot and gestures to him to sit down.

				GROEBER
		One minute!

GROEBER picks up a packet of cigarettes and offers them to the BURGLAR.

				GROEBER (o.s.) 
		Cigarette? 

				BURGLAR 
		Oh, boy.

Crestfallen, the BURGLAR slumps back into his chair and takes a cigarette. 

				GROEBER
		I'll take your word for it. 

GROEBER leans back, rocking his chair. 

				GROEBER (o.s.) 
		On condition you tell me ...

He pauses. The BURGLAR waits, holding an unlit cigarette in one hand and a 
burning match in the other. 

 				GROEBER
		... who the man was you were looking for ... 
		and found in the building.

On these last words, he lets himself fall forward, while the BURGLAR puts out 
the match and lays the cigarette on the table, feigning surprise.

				BURGLAR 
		I don't understand, Inspector. A man, you said? 
		No, I don't know anything about that, 
		Inspector. There must be some mistake. I don't 
		know anything.  Nothing at all.

				GROEBER
		Of course. 
			(slyly) 
		Only I don't understand why you are covering up 
		for the gang who left you in the lurch. 

GROEBER relights his cigar. 

				GROEBER
		Funny friends! Leaving you right in it and 
		running off. Bah! 

				BURGLAR 
			(smiling maliciously) 
		That won't wash with me, Inspector. 

GROEBER takes some notes. The SECRETARY takes the opportunity to sharpen some 
pencils. The BURGLAR looks around worriedly. He tries to read what GROEBER 
is writing but can't make it out.
 
				BURGLAR 
		After all ... 

Not very sure of himself, the BURGLAR pauses; then, after a moment, he begins 
again ... 

				BURGLAR 
		After all, I'm not risking very much.

INSERT of the hole in the office floor.

				BURGLAR (o.s.)
		Maybe a little bit of damage. But nothing was 
		stolen. 

RESUME SCENE

				GROEBER  
		Of course, something was stolen. In fact a good 
		deal ... 

The BURGLAR leans forward, surprised.

				BURGLAR 
		What? 

He is rising to the bait. 

				BURGLAR 
		Stolen? How much? 

				GROEBER
		If you talk, I'll tell you.

				BURGLAR 
		I've already told you. I don't know anything. 

				GROEBER 
		All right. 

He gets up. 

				GROEBER 
		Well, think about it. It's amazing what one 
		remembers ... 
			(turning on the ceiling light) 
		... when one's left alone for an hour or two. 

A door opens. 

				GROEBER 
		Take him away.

Someone taps a hand on the BURGLAR'S shoulder.  He rises and leaves the 
room. We TRACK IN on GROEBER, who watches him go thoughtfully.

				GROEBER 
			(to the SECRETARY) 
		Get the night watchman sent in. 

He sits down and opens a dossier.

				SECRETARY (o.s.) 
		Get the night watchman, Damowitz.

GROEBER raises his eyes and looks towards the door. We FOLLOW his look: the 
SECRETARY shows the WATCHMAN in. 

				GROEBER (o.s.)
		Sit down.

The WATCHMAN sits in the chair in front of the desk. GROEBER continues to 
study the dossier. 

				GROEBER 
		Now then, you said in your statement ... 

He raises his eyes to the WATCHMAN. 

				GROEBER 
		Listen carefully...

The SECRETARY'S hand turns off the light on the desk and picks up a pencil.

				GROEBER 
		... you may have to repeat it under oath...

He reads from the dossier. 

				GROEBER 
		... that you clearly heard ...

The WATCHMAN'S right cheek is swollen.

				GROEBER 
		... that one of the burglars said to another:
		'We've found him ...'

The WATCHMAN nods his head, winces with pain, and holds his cheek.

				GROEBER 
		'... I've discovered the guy. He is in the 
		attic.' Is that correct?

 				WATCHMAN
		Yes, Inspector ... ooooh. 
			(grimaces with pain) 
		Yes, Inspector ... I'd swear to that whenever 
		you wish. 

GROEBER closes the dossier. 

				GROEBER 
		Right. You may go home and rest now. But please 
		keep yourself at the disposal of the police. 

The WATCHMAN gets up.

				WATCHMAN
		Of course, Inspector ... oooh. 
			(painfully)
		Good day, Inspector.

He goes out, holding his jaw. 

				GROEBER 
		Good day.

GROEBER remains for a moment, deep in thought. We TRACK IN as he picks up the 
telephone.

				GROEBER 
			(into the phone) 
		Tell me, is Inspector Lohmann in the building? 
		... Oh, good . .. He's talking to somebody? No, 
		it doesn't matter. I'll come up.

					CUT TO:

INT. LOHMANN'S OFFICE - NIGHT

LOHMANN sits at his desk smoking a cigar, framed against the large map of the 
city on the wall behind him. Now he is in shirt-sleeves, his collar open and 
tie loosened, and he looks tired and harassed. He is on the telephone, and 
with one hand pours out coffee from an enamel coffee pot.

				LOHMANN 
			(into the phone) 
		What?  Good.  Hasn't come in yet ... You're 
		watching the old girl, that Mrs. Winkler, eh? 

A KNOCK on the door. 

				LOHMANN 
		Come in.

NEW ANGLE - LOHMANN sits in his chair. From this angle, the size of his 
stomach is enormously exaggerated and we can see that his trousers are 
unbuttoned at the waist. 

				LOHMANN 
			(into phone)
		We've surrounded the whole block. If he wanted 
		to get home, he'd run into us. Now you have to 
		wait. I'll be in my office if you have some 
		news.

He hangs up and straightens in his chair. 

				LOHMANN 
		Hell!

GROEBER enters, a dossier under his arm, and sits on the edge of the desk. 
LOHMANN adds some milk to his coffee from a carton. 

				LOHMANN 
		What do you want? 

				GROEBER 
		I wanted to ask you ...

LOHMANN drinks his coffee.
 
				GROEBER 
		... a favor.

				LOHMANN
			(drinking)
		Ugh . .. what muck. 

				GROEBER 
		I wanted to ask you ...

GROEBER places the dossier on the table.

				GROEBER 
		Anyway, read a bit of that.

LOHMANN takes a bite from a biscuit and picks up the dossier, marked REPORTS.
 
				LOHMANN 
		Reports? 

				GROEBER
		Yeah...

LOHMANN opens the dossier. The first typewritten sheet carries the date 25th 
November, 1930. 

				GROEBER (o.s.)
		... Burglary in an office block. 

The page is turned.

					DISSOLVE TO:

POLICE STATION

The ticker-tape machine and the punched tape.

					DISSOLVE TO:

THE OFFICE BUILDING

A map of the office building at Bennastrasse 29-33 and Ostend-allee 114-117. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Bennastrasse?

					DISSOLVE TO:

CLOSER - OFFICE BUILDING

The main entrance of the building with gates half-open and the WATCHMEN'S 
office illuminated. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		That's a very quiet neighborhood.

					DISSOLVE TO:

THE WATCHMAN'S OFFICE

The WATCHMAN lies unconscious on the floor of his office.

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		... Perhaps it's not as quiet as all that ... 

					DISSOLVE TO:

THE WATCHMAN'S OFFICE

The other bound watchmen lie in the corner.

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Hell, this is getting serious.

					DISSOLVE TO:

AN OPEN WOODEN DOOR 

On the landing, with the lock sawed out of it. 

					DISSOLVE TO:

ANOTHER DOOR

Also forced.

					DISSOLVE TO:

THE DOSSIER

In LOHMANN'S hands.  Another page is turned.

					DISSOLVE TO:

ANOTHER DOOR

A drill still sticks in a hole and all around the lock there is a circle of 
holes.

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Did they intend to empty the whole place, then?

					DISSOLVE TO:

THE BASEMENT

The door to the coal-hole has been smashed.
 
				LOHMANN 
			(o.s., amazed)
		What can they have been looking for in the 
		coal? 

					DISSOLVE TO:

THE BOILER ROOM

As seen through a shattered door. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Look at that. It's incredible.


					DISSOLVE TO:

THE DOSSIER

In LOHMANN'S hands.  Another page is turned.

					DISSOLVE TO:

THE ATTIC

The door of every compartment has been forced. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Good Lord.

					DISSOLVE TO:

REAR OF ATTIC

The last few doors are completely smashed to pieces.

				LOHMANN 
			(o.s., clicks his tongue) 
		This is madness!

					DISSOLVE TO:

ATTIC COMPARTMENT

All the furniture turned upside down.

					DISSOLVE TO:

CLOSE - HOLE IN THE CEILING

On the second floor, with the rope ladder and the abandoned drill. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Ah, now it makes sense. They were after the 
		safe. 

					DISSOLVE TO:

CLOSE - AN OLD SAFE

Untouched. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		Good God. What's that all about? 

					DISSOLVE TO:

CLOSE - ANOTHER SAFE

Also unharmed. 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		I don't understand it at all. 


					DISSOLVE TO:

CLOSE - ANOTHER SAFE

Also intact.


				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		They haven't even attacked that one. Were they 
		all crazy or something?


					DISSOLVE TO:

THE DOSSIER

The last pages turn. 

					CUT TO:

RESUME - LOHMANN'S OFFICE

LOHMANN and GROEBER at LOHMANN'S desk. 

				LOHMANN 
			(lifts his head) 
		Well, I'll be damned!

				GROEBER 
		Well, what have you got to say? Nothing stolen, 
		but a man was taken away. God knows where. 

				LOHMANN 
		Fantastic!

LOHMANN puts his cigar-holder down on a plate and prepares another cigar.

				GROEBER 
		And Franz -- the burglar we arrested -- isn't 
		talking. Frightened evidently. Actually I know 
		him well ... he's one of those burglars who 
		would rather jump from the fifth floor than get 
		mixed up in a murder.

LOHMANN finishes cutting his cigar and starts to suck it. 

				GROEBER 
		If we could ... set a trap for him...

A huge smile spreads across LOHMANN'S face. 

				GROEBER 
		Could you help me out, Lohmann? 

				LOHMANN 
			(raising his cigar)
		I see what you are getting at ... well then, 
		let's take a look at this Franz.

					CUT TO:

INT. PRISON CELL - NIGHT

The BURGLAR stretches out on a bed, his legs in the foreground. The cell door 
opens -- a GUARD and three detectives appear. 

				GUARD
		You're wanted for questioning. 

The BURGLAR sits up.

				BURGLAR
		What? Four people for me?

				DETECTIVE
		Come on.

The BURGLAR shrugs, rises and exits. The GUARD shuts the door.

					CUT TO:


INT. LOHMANN'S OFFICE - NIGHT

The BURGLAR and a detective enter. The detective sits. The BURGLAR sees a 
plaque on the wall and examines it with concern.

CLOSE - THE PLAQUE

It's a list of the members of the Homicide Department, with names, addresses 
and telephone numbers. Under 'Head of Department,' we can read: 'Karl 
Lohmann.' followed by an address and telephone number. 

WIDER 

The BURGLAR stares at the list. 

				BURGLAR 
			(unhappily)
		Homicide? Inspector Karl Lohmann ...

A door opens. The BURGLAR turns. LOHMANN has come in, hands in pockets, 
sucking a cigar. The BURGLAR moves towards him. 

				BURGLAR 
			(frightened)
		What do you want with me? What does Homicide 
		want with me? 

After a moment, LOHMANN stops in front of the BURGLAR.

				LOHMANN 
		Yes... your case has been passed over to me 
		now.

The BURGLAR, very worried, wrings his hands. LOHMANN stands in front of him.
 
				BURGLAR 
		But ... but why?  What for? 

				LOHMANN 
		You did your work a little too well. 

The BURGLAR nervously unbuttons his collar. 

				BURGLAR 
			(in a choked voice)
		Yes?
 
				LOHMANN 
			(meaningfully) 
		One of the watchmen ...

INSERT - DAMOWITZ, THE WATCHMAN

He sits at a table, in his home, an enormous plate of sausage and cabbage in 
front of him. He drinks some beer, wipes his moustache and digs into another 
sausage.

RESUME on LOHMANN and the BURGLAR in LOHMANN'S OFFICE.

				BURGLAR 
			(in a choked voice) 
		Dead? 

LOHMANN paces round his office.

				LOHMANN 
		Planning and assisting with a murder ... That's 
		a bad scene, Franz.

				BURGLAR 
			(choking)
		I can't go on with it. I don't want to have 
		anything to do with that.

LOHMANN picks up a dossier and flicks through it.

				BURGLAR 
			(breaks down)
		I'll tell you everything ... everything I know.

				LOHMANN 
			(casually)
		Very wise, but unfortunately too late. 

The BURGLAR moves nearer and pleads with LOHMANN who turns his back on him.

				BURGLAR 
		Inspector, it can't be too late ... please, 
		Inspector ... But, it isn't possible. Listen, 
		I'm going to tell you everything ... 
		everything. Even who we were looking for in 
		that damn building. 

LOHMANN straightens up, triumphant and interested, but does not turn around. 
		
				LOHMANN 
		Well, then...

				BURGLAR 
		The murderer ... the child murderer.

LOHMANN'S mouth drops open in amazement, and his cigar falls out onto the 
table. A pause. Dumbfounded, LOHMANN, without thinking, raises a shaky hand 
to remove the cigar from his lips. He looks confused for a moment, but 
quickly recovers his composure and picks it up from the dossier where it had 
fallen. 

				LOHMANN 
			(dawning realization) 
		What?  What? ... Who? 

				BURGLAR 
			(distraught) 
		The child murderer, Inspector.

LOHMANN puffs out a great cloud of cigar smoke which completely obscures his 
face. He strides across the room flapping a hand to disperse the smoke-screen 
around him. 

				LOHMANN 
		Wait a minute.

LOHMANN quickly exits out a door which he closes behind him.

NEW ANGLE - LOHMANN'S PRIVATE BATHROOM 

LOHMANN strips off his jacket, bends over the sink basin and puts his head 
under cold running water.

RESUME on LOHMANN'S OFFICE

The BURGLAR waits in total despair.

				BURGLAR 
			(sighs, to himself) 
		This had to happen to me! Of all people. 

A door opens behind him. He turns. LOHMANN comes back in, looking happy and 
satisfied. He has his jacket on and, rubbing his hands, sits down behind his 
desk.  After a moment, LOHMANN takes out a cigar and cuts it, with a pair of 
scissors.

				LOHMANN 
		Right ... Now, we're going to have a little 
		talk. 

				BURGLAR 
			(hopelessly)
		If you want to, Inspector. 

				LOHMANN 
		And, mind you, don't lie. 
			(beat)
		Okay, let's start. What have you got to do with 
		the murderer and where have you taken him?

				BURGLAR 
		Well now, Inspector, you know the old .... 

					CUT TO:

EXT. FACTORY - DAY

The battered façade of an empty factory, almost a ruin. 

				BURGLAR (o.s.)
		... distillery of Kuntz and Levy ... 

					CUT TO:

A CORNER OF THE BUILDING 

				LOHMANN (o.s.)
		The one that went bankrupt?

					CUT TO:

INT. FACTORY - DAY

Sunlight gleams through broken windows and the numerous holes in the roof.

				BURGLAR (o.s.)
		Yes. Since then the building's been abandoned 
		and nobody cares...

WORKSHOP

In the gloom of an abandoned workshop inside the factory is a shadowy 
staircase. TWO MEN come down the steps and disappear into the gloom. In the 
distance, inarticulate cries gradually draw nearer. 

				MURDERER (o.s.) 
		What do you want with me? Let me go ... let me 
		go!

				A VOICE 
			(roughly) 
		Go on ... keep moving ... go on.

The TWO MEN reappear, pushing the MURDERER up the stairway. He struggles 
furiously although his jacket has been pulled over his head. At the top of 
the steps, a third MAN has come to open a door for them. 

				MURDERER 
			(struggling)
		I've done nothing to you ... Let me go, you 
		swine.

ANOTHER FLIGHT OF STEPS

An iron door is flung open. The third MAN enters and stands at the top of the
steps. 

				MURDERER (o.s.)
		Let me go.

The two others push the MURDERER violently down the steps. 

				MURDERER
		Bastards!

The MURDERER has fallen to the bottom of the steps.

				MURDERER
		Bunch of bastards!

One of the men exits, closing the iron door behind him as he goes. The 
remaining two men stand on the top of the steps and look down at the MURDERER 
flings his coat off his head.
 
				MURDERER
		What do you want with me? Bastards! What do you
		want? 

He turns and stops dead in his tracks. 

WIDE - HUGE FACTORY CELLAR - MURDERER'S POV

Assorted members of the underworld stare at him. We PAN ALONG the entire 
length of the cellar to reveal that a vast crowd has assembled -- crooks and
their wives, whores, pimps, and beggars -- some standing, most seated on
boxes and crates. There is absolute silence and no one moves. PAN continues
until it reaches a trestle table set up in front of them. Behind it sit the
PICK-POCKET, the CON-MAN and the SAFE-BREAKER, on either side of SCHRÄNKER -- 
obviously a crude form of tribunal and, as usual, SCHRÄNKER is in charge. 

				MURDERER (o.s.)
		Help!

RESUME ON MURDERER...

... and the two men on the stairs.

				MURDERER
		Help! Let me go. I want to get out ... 

He tries to climb up a few steps. 

				MURDERER
		I want to get out. Get out.

WIDE - CELLAR

A general view of the tribunal, lit only by a single bulb hanging from the 
ceiling. 

				MURDERER (o.s.)
		Let me out!

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(firmly)
		You will not get out of here.

The two men on the staircase block the MURDERER'S way. He turns back to face 
the crowd.

				MURDERER
		But gentlemen ... 

His hair falling over his face, he comes down the stairs. 

				MURDERER
			(appeals to them)
		Please, I don't even know what you want me for. 

He takes a few hesitant paces forward. 

				MURDERER
		I beg you. Set me free. There must be some 
		mistake ... 

A hand reaches above the MURDERER'S head, feeling around in the air. 

				MURDERER
		... A mist--

The hand falls on the MURDERER'S shoulder. The MURDERER'S voice breaks off.

				BLIND BEGGAR (o.s.)
		No ... No ... No mistake ... Impossible. 
		There's no mistake.

PULL BACK to show the MURDERER and the BLIND BEGGAR. The MURDERER turns 
towards him. The BLIND BEGGAR withdraws his hand.

				BLIND BEGGAR
		No, no mistake. 

				MURDERER
		But ... what do you mean?
 
We PULL FURTHER BACK so that the BLIND BEGGAR'S other arm comes into view. He 
holds a doll-shaped balloon. He shows it to the MURDERER.

				BLIND BEGGAR
		Do you recognize it? It is a balloon like the 
		one you gave to little Elsie Beckmann.

The MURDERER stiffens with fear at the mention of that name. The BLIND BEGGAR 
holds the string of the balloon and lets it rise up as far as the string will 
go. 

HIGH ANGLE

The MURDERER follows the balloon's ascent with horrified eyes. It sways 
gently very close to the camera. The faces of the crowd are a confused blur 
in the background. 

				BLIND BEGGAR (o.s.)
		A balloon like that ...

				MURDERER 
			(gibbering) 
		El ... El ... Elsie ... El ... Elsie. 

He backs away, terrified by the balloon, until he stumbles against the table.
The MURDERER'S voice grows more and more high-pitched: 

				MURDERER 
		No, no, no ...

NEW ANGLES - The MURDERER, near the table.

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		Where did you ...

On SCHRÄNKER'S first words, the MURDERER turns to a threatening SCHRÄNKER who 
has a photograph in front of him on the table of a little girl.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(leaning forward ominously) 
		... bury little Martha? 

Behind the MURDERER, we see the BLIND BEGGAR and the staircase guarded by the 
two men.  As one of the men leads the BLIND BEGGAR away, the MURDERER walks 
toward SCHRÄNKER, pleading. 

				MURDERER 
		But ... but I never ... I never even knew her. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(sarcastically)
		Oh yes, very good. You didn't even know her. 

SCHRÄNKER waves another photograph. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		And what about this one?

The MURDERER backs away, now helpless with fright. 

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		And this one? 

The MURDERER chews at his fingers. SCHRÄNKER'S gloved hand shows a third 
photograph. We recognize ELSIE'S face.

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		... and this one, you didn't know this one 
		either, eh?
 
The MURDERER is now crazy with fright. Panic-stricken, he spins around in a 
mad dash for the exit. One of the men who brought him in sits at the foot of 
the stairs; he jumps up to bar the way as the crowd begin to jump up and 
SHOUT hysterically. 

				VOICES 
		Stop him ... Stop him ... don't let him escape! 

The crowd surges forward. Only SCHRÄNKER remains calmly seated. 

				VOICES 
		Stop him ... he can't get away!

The MURDERER rushes the crook on the stairs, pushing him violently out of the 
way, and then climbs desperately towards the iron door.

				VOICES 
		Quick, stop him ... Hold him ... Look out ... 
		the door! 

At the top of the stairs, the MURDERER tries to open the door but a crook 
grabs him by the collar. 

				A VOICE
		Hold him ... hang onto him.

The MURDERER hangs onto the door handle with both hands. The crook holds him 
from behind. Two others come to his aid.

				A VOICE
		Go on ... Go on . .. Hit him ... Belt him!

CLOSE - the MURDERER'S convulsed face. A hand seizes him by the throat.

				MURDERER 
			(in a strangled voice)
		Let me go ... Let me go! 
			(almost in tears) 
		You have no right to treat me like this! 

				VOICES
		We'll show you what right we have! 

WIDER - The three men try to make the MURDERER loosen his grip. A fourth 
crook comes up the stairs to help them. One of them kicks him on the shins. 
The general shouting gets louder as more people crowd on the steps. 

CLOSE - The crook kicks the MURDERER. The MURDERER'S hand still grasps the 
iron door's handle.

				A VOICE
		 Go on ... on his shins.

CLOSE - The MURDERER receives another violent kick in the shins. 

WIDER - the struggle at the door. A crook tries to hit the MURDERER'S hands.

				VOICES 
		Heave ... ho. Heave ... ho.

CLOSE - the crook's fist violently striking the MURDERER'S fingers. The shock 
makes him let go. 

WIDER - the group draws back from the MURDERER and throws him down the stairs. 

The MURDERER falls heavily to the ground, banging his head sharply against 
some old timbers lying against a wooden barrier. He lies twisting with pain 
while the crowd CHEERS and HOOTS triumphantly.

				MURDERER 
			(groaning)
		You have no right to hold me here.

A prostitute gets up furiously. 

				PROSTITUTE 
			(screaming fanatically)
		Right? Someone like you doesn't have any rights!
			(roaring)
		Kill him! 

				A MAN 
			(next to her, rising) 
		Yes, kill him!

				PROSTITUTE 
		Crush him like a mad dog! 

The crowd grows very animated. 

				A VOICE
		Crush him!

SCHRÄNKER turns impatiently to the crowd.

				SCHRÄNKER
		Quiet! 

				A VOICE
		Kill him! ... Kill him! 

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(shouts) 
		Shut up!

An imperious gesture from SCHRÄNKER and the crowd calms down. When the noise 
dies down completely, he turns towards the MURDERER.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		You talk of rights ... You will get your rights. 

PAN ACROSS the attentive faces of the crowd, as SCHRÄNKER continues:

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		We are all law experts here, from six weeks in 
		Tegel, to fifteen years in Brandenburg...

SCHRÄNKER gestures to the crowd.

				SCHRÄNKER
		You will get your rights ... you will even have 
		a lawyer. 
			(ironically)
		Everything will be done according to the rule 
		of law. 

The MURDERER crouches against the wooden barrier like a toad. 

				MURDERER 
			(screaming)
		A lawyer? ... A lawyer! ... I don't need a 
		lawyer ... Who is accusing me?  You, maybe? 
		You?

A hand reaches down and taps him on the shoulder. The MURDERER turns around. 
A fairly old, ill-shaven man leans towards him across a wooden barrier. He is 
the LAWYER. In front of him, on a crate, a pile of Criminal and Civil law 
books.

				LAWYER
		Eh ... just a moment ... If I were you, sir, 
		I'd keep quiet. Your life's at stake ... in 
		case you didn't know.

The MURDERER rises and leans towards the LAWYER seated behind his crate. He 
stares at him in amazement. 

				MURDERER
		And who are you? 

				LAWYER 
			(greets him with a 
			 wave of his hat) 
		I have the dubious honor of being your defense 
		counsel. But I am afraid it won't be much use 
		to you. 

The LAWYER superciliously blows some pencil shavings from his notepad. 

				MURDERER
			(to the LAWYER)
		But ... but... do you want to kill me then? 
			(horrified)
		Murder me, just like that?

				SCHRÄNKER 
		We just want to render you harmless. That's 
		what we want ... but you'll only be harmless 
		when you're dead. 

				MURDERER 
		But, if you kill me, it'll be cold-blooded 
		murder! 

Derisive LAUGHTER echoes around the cellar. The LAWYER sighs and shakes his 
head sadly. 

				MURDERER 
		I demand that you hand me over to the police. 

The LAUGHTER increases. The MURDERER raises his voice. 

				MURDERER 
		I demand to be handed over to the jurisdiction 
		of the common law!

Loud LAUGHTER from the crowd. SCHRÄNKER and the CON-MAN watch, unconcerned; 
behind them, the crowd rocks with LAUGHTER.

				A VOICE
		Quite a performance ... That's not bad, that, 
		ha, ha, ha! 

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(to the MURDERER) 
		That would suit you, wouldn't it? 

				CON-MAN 
			(ironic)
		Anything else you'd like? 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		So that you can invoke paragraph fifty-one... 

				A VOICE
		That's it.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		... And spend the rest of your life in an 
		institution at the state's expense ... And then 
		you'd escape ... or else there'd be a pardon 
		and there you are, free as air, with a pass, 
		protected by the law because of mental illness. 
		Off again chasing little girls. No, no. Very 
		dry. We're not going to let that happen. 

				A VOICE 
			(echoing) 
		No, no, no.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		We must make you powerless. You must disappear.

		 		A VOICE
		Bravo ... he must disappear.

The MURDERER sobs with fear. 

				MURDERER
		But -- I can't help what I do!

He falls to his knees and miserably puts his hands to his head.

				MURDERER
		I can't help it ... I can't ... I can't ... I 
		can't help it.

In the front row of the crowd, a crook rises to his feet and waves 
dismissively. 

				CROOK 
			(with contempt) 
		The old story! "We never can help it" -- in
		court.
 
A long pause as the MURDERER, on his knees, helplessly lowers his hands.

				MURDERER 
			(in complete despair) 
		What do you know about it? What are you saying? 
		If it comes to that, who are you? What right 
		have you to speak? 

He turns his head to look at them all. 

				MURDERER 
		Who are you? ... All of you? ... Criminals! 
		Perhaps you're even proud of yourselves?  Proud 
		of being able to break safes, to climb into 
		buildings or cheat at cards ... Things you 
		could just as well keep your fingers off ... 
		You wouldn't need to do all that if you had 
		learnt a proper trade . .. or if you worked. If 
		you weren't a bunch of lazy bastards ... But I 
		... 

His hands clutch at his chest. 

				MURDERER 
		I can't help myself! I haven't any control over 
		this evil thing that's inside me -- the fire, 
		the voices, the torment.

A skeptical SCHRÄNKER sits at the table; behind him the crowd listens 
intently. 

				SCHRÄNKER 
		You mean to say you have to murder?

 				MURDERER 
			(agonized) 
		Always... always, there's this evil force 
		inside me ... It's there all the time, driving 
		me out to wander through the streets ... 
		following me ... silently, but I can feel it 
		there... it's me, pursuing myself, because ...

An old man in the crowd nods thoughtfully, moved by the MURDERER'S genuine 
anguish. 

				MURDERER 
		I want to escape ... to escape from myself! 

Two other crooks. One of them seems very moved.

				MURDERER 
		 ... but it's impossible. I can't. I can't 
		escape. 
			(panting) 
		I have to obey it. I have to run ... run ... 
		streets ... endless streets. I want to escape. 
		I want to get away. 

Two prostitutes, one of them nervously twisting a handkerchief. 

				MURDERER 
		And I am pursued by ghosts. Ghosts of mothers. 
		And of those children ... They never leave me. 
			(shouts desperately)
		They are there, there, always, always! Always 
		... except ... !
			(lowers his voice) 
		... except when I do it  ... when I ... 

He raises his hands towards his neck, as though he were about to strangle a 
victim, then he lets them fall limp at his sides. He shakes his head.

				MURDERER 
		Then I can't remember anything ... And 
		afterwards I see those posters and I read what 
		I've done ... I read ... and ... and read ... 
		Did I do that? But I can't remember anything 
		about it ... But who will believe me?  Who 
		knows what it feels like to be me?  How I'm 
		forced to act ... How I must ... Don't want to, 
		but must ... Must ... Don't want to ... must. 
		And then ... a voice screams ... I can't bear 
		to hear it. 

He puts his head against the wooden barrier in a paroxysm, covering his ears 
with his hands.

				MURDERER 
			(at the height of his fit) 
		I can't ... I can't go on. Can't go on ... 
		Can't go on ... Can't go on ...

SCHRÄNKER and the SAFE-BREAKER sit, the crowd behind them. SCHRÄNKER rises to 
his feet as the MURDERER'S voice dies away.

				MURDERER 
		I can't go on ... 

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(to the crowd)
		The accused has said that he cannot help 
		himself. That is to say: he has to murder. As 
		this is the case, he has pronounced his own 
		death sentence.

				VOICES
		Hurrah ... that's true ... Hurrah.

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Someone who admits to being a compulsive 
		murderer should be snuffed out. Like a candle. 

				A VOICE
		Hurrah.

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(louder)
		This man must be wiped out, eliminated. 

APPLAUSE and SHOUTS. The MURDERER, on his knees, rubs his head against the 
barrier, his hands still over his ears. The NOISE continues.  Behind 
SCHRÄNKER and the SAFE-BREAKER, the crowd is in a frenzy.
 
				VARIOUS VOICES 
		Hurrah ... Perfect, just what I think ... 
		Hurrah! 

The LAWYER gets up. Beside him, the MURDERER cringes. 

				LAWYER
		I wish to speak.

				SCHRÄNKER (o.s.)
		The defense lawyer will speak. 

The crowd quiets down.

				LAWYER 
			(ironically, off SCHRÄNKER) 
		Our very honorable President who is, I believe, 
		wanted by the police for three murders ...

				SCHRÄNKER 
			(very angry)
		That's got nothing to do with it! 

				LAWYER 
			(continuing) 
		... claims that because my client acts under an 
		irresistible impulse, he is condemned to death. 

				A VOICE
		That's exactly it ... Yes... He's right.

				LAWYER 
			(shakes his head)
 		He is mistaken ... because it is that very fact 
		that clears my client.

Members of the crowd look puzzled: a one-eyed crook, a prostitute, an older 
man who looks like a wrestler.

				THE ONE-EYED CROOK
		Hey, just a moment, that's enough. 

Other faces in the crowd look on sternly. In the foreground sits a crook with 
a moustache, a hat and a bow-tie. 

				CROOK
		Are you mad, you old drunk?

				LAWYER
		It is this very fact of obsession which makes 
		my client not responsible ... And nobody can be 
		punished for something which he is not 
		responsible for.

WHISTLES and CAT-CALLS. 

				VOICE
 		That's ridiculous.

				PROSTITUTE 
			(furious, jumps to her feet)
		Do you want to suggest by any chance that this 
		brute should get off? 

				A CROOK 
			(bitterly) 
		That he should stay alive? 

				LAWYER
		I mean that this man is sick. And a sick man 
		should be handed over, not to the executioner, 
		but to the doctor. 

				SAFE-BREAKER 
		Could you guarantee he'd be cured?

				LAWYER 
		What use are asylums, then?

 				CON-MAN 
		And what would happen if he escaped?

				SCHRÄNKER 
		Yes ... or if they released him as harmless?  
		And what if the compulsion to kill returns? Yet 
		another man-hunt for several months. Paragraph 
		fifty-one again. Into the asylum again and then 
		another escape or release. And then the 
		compulsion all over again. And so on and so on 
		till doomsday!

				LAWYER
		No one has the right to kill a man who is not 
		responsible for his actions. Not the state, and 
		certainly not you. The state must take care that 
		this man becomes harmless and ceases to be a 
		danger to his fellow citizens.

During this plea, the crowd becomes excited and they begin to SHOUT and BAWL 
at the top of their voices. His last words are almost lost in the general 
LAUGHTER. A PROSTITUTE gets up.

				PROSTITUTE
	 	You've never had children, eh?  So you haven't 
		lost any either. But if you want to know what 
		it's like to lose one of your kids ... 

Another woman tries to calm her. 

				PROSTITUTE
		... then go and ask the parents of those 
		children he got at.

Amid the different groups of onlookers, an enormous thug listens, close to 
tears.

				PROSTITUTE  
		Ask them what those days and nights were like 
		when they didn't know for sure what was up ... 
		and about the ones when they finally knew what 
		happened. 
			(screaming) 
		Ask the mothers!

The MURDERER still crouches against the barrier, his hands over his ears. 

				A WOMAN
		She's right!

The MURDERER crouches ever lower.

				PROSTITUTE
		Ask the mothers!

				VOICES
		Yes, the mothers ... the mothers ... ask them 
		... Do you think they'll have mercy on a 
		child-murderer?

In the crowd, the fever rises. 

				A CROOK
		She's right. 

				ANOTHER
		And how.

				PROSTITUTE
		No mercy ... No pardon ... 

				A CROOK
		Give him to us, the murderer. 

				2ND CROOK
		Kill him, the monster.

A PROSTITUTE in the front row screams her rage. Behind her, a crook in a cap 
is also worked up.

				YOUNG PROSTITUTE
		Crush him, the brute. 

				MAN 
			(simultaneous)
		Kill him.

				WRESTLER
		Bleed the beast. 

				ONE-EYED CROOK
		Hang him. 

				A VOICE
		Beat him down. 

				A LITTLE MAN
		Kill him. 

				ANOTHER
		Kill him.

The whole furious mob rages on.

				VOICES
		To the gallows ... Finish him ... Kill him ... 
		Kill him
 
				LAWYER
		All that shouting won't silence me!
 
The noise dies down. The crowd waits, but not appeased.

				LAWYER
		I will not allow a crime to be committed in my 
		presence. I demand that this man ...

				A VOICE 
			(interrupting) 
		He isn't one!

				LAWYER 
			(carries on) 
		... that this man be granted the protection of 
		the law, which is everybody's right. 

				A VOICE
		To hell with that ... to hell with it. 

WHISTLES and SHOUTS from the crowd.

				LAWYER 
			(very loud) 
		I demand that this man be handed over to the 
		police.

The crowd and the leaders of the tribunal are in uproar.

				A WOMAN 
			(hysterically) 
		To the police! 

				CON-MAN 
			(furious) 
		Filthy stooge!

The frenzy has reached its height. Everyone SHOUTS, WHISTLES and SCREAMS at 
the same time. From every side, crooks and prostitutes throw themselves 
towards the MURDERER ... then, suddenly, everyone freezes, and all eyes fix 
on the iron door of the cellar.  

Taken by surprise, the crooks and women all stand stock still -- and slowly 
raise their hands. Only SCHRÄNKER remains seated. He tips back his chair 
arrogantly. After casting a long look around the assembled crowd and seeing 
that there is no hope, he gets up abruptly and raises his hands.

The MURDERER still crouches against the barrier. He rises slowly and looks in 
confusion at the frozen crowd before him. TRACK IN on him as a lawman's hand 
is placed firmly on his left shoulder. 

				A VOICE
		In the name of the law ...

					DISSOLVE TO:

INT. COURTROOM

Empty chairs at a long table. The JUDGES enter and sit. The CHIEF JUSTICE 
puts on his hat.

				CHIEF JUSTICE
		In the name of the people ...

MOTHERS dressed in black sit forlornly nearby, listening, crying. Among them 
is MRS. BECKMANN.

				MRS. BECKMANN
		This won't bring our children back. We, too, 
		should keep a closer watch on our children.

					FADE OUT



 
 
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