Gladys is there already.

“Suicide, Ada.”

“Yes, but she’ll come in time to stop ’im. See if she don’t.”

“Don’t you be too sure. This is a queer picture, this is.”

He goes to his desk and takes a small blue bottle from one of the pigeon holes.

“What did I tell yer? Poison.”

“The ease with which persons in films contrive to provide themselves with the instruments of death…”

He puts it down, and taking out a sheet of paper writes.

“Last message to ’er. Gives ’er time to come and save ’im. You see.”

“AVE IMPERATRIX IMMORTALIS,

MORITURUS TE SALUTANT.”

Exquisitely written.

He folds it, puts it in an envelope and addresses it.

Then he pauses, uncertain.

A vision appears:

The door of Adam’s room. Mrs. Doure, changed for dinner, comes up to it and knocks; she knocks repeatedly, and in dismay calls for her husband. Professor Doure tries the door and shakes it. Parsons arrives and Jane. After some time the door is forced open; all the time Professor Doure is struggling with it, Mrs. Doure’s agitation increases. Jane makes futile attempts to calm her. At last they all burst into the room. Adam is revealed lying dead on the floor. Scene of unspeakable vulgarity involving tears, hysteria, the telephone, the police. Fade out.

Close up. Adam registering disgust.

Another vision:

A native village in Africa on the edge of the jungle; from one of the low thatch huts creeps a man naked and sick to death, his wives lamenting behind him. He drags himself into the jungle to die alone.

“Lor, Gladys. Instruction.”

Another vision:

Rome in the time of Petronius. A young patrician reclines in the centre of his guests. The producers have spared no effort in creating an atmosphere of superb luxury.