THE SEVEN FATES OF DR. PHIBES The Third Part of the Dr. Phibes Saga A treatment by Paul Clemens based on an original story by Ron Magid and Paul Clemens based on characters created by James Whiton and William Goldstein ******************************************************************************** ******************* [Comments from VINCENT PRICE to Paul Clemens about this screen treatment] VINCENT PRICE Dear Paul: I love your new adventures of Dr. Phibes! It's well conceived and just preposter ous enough to be equal fun with the others. I think it exactly the right time to do it as the out and out horror has been do ne to death, and a laugh or two or in this case many more is what people want. Keep in touch-I'm ready to go anytime. Ever, Vincent ******************************************************************************** ******************* THE SEVEN FATES OF DR. PHIBES The film begins with a short series of new scenes pre-dating the first Phibes fi lm, showing Phibes and his beautiful wife Victoria involved in the practice of various unfamiliar r eligious rites of apparent Greek origin. They are in a structure much like a classic Greek temple but with art-deco influences, wearing ancient Greek costumes. Phibes wears a special necklace duri ng these ceremonial sequences which we see in close-up detail. it is a round piece of bla ck polished onyx with Greek letters carved into it and a demonic face. It is attached to a steel chain. Phibes, during these opening sequences, does not look quite as we are used to seeing him -gone is the dead white pallor of his face and the purplish-pink shadings of the lips and eye area. The silver hair, sideburns and moustache, however, are much the same, but it is at once obv ious that he is very much a living man during these sequences. We now flash ahead slightly to their home in London's Maldine Square, where we s ee travel preparations being made, boxes packed, etc. A brief conversation follows between Phibes and Victoria concerning their three-fold plan to first travel to Egypt and seek out

the River of Life (which they discovered themselves some years before); to retrieve a set of seven ivory figures of special mystical significance; and finally to journey to the isle of Crete and t heir underground dwelling, there to complete the final phase of their plan. Then, kissing Victoria goodbye and leaving her to finish closing up both their M aldine Square and country homes, Phibes prepares to depart for Switzerland to terminate their bank account and reclaim valuables stored there. They agree to meet in Egypt at the appointed time and place. Phibes takes his leave, warning Victoria that her health is delicate and that she should not strain herself. Cutting to a hotel room in Switzerland, we see Phibes pick up the receiver of a ringing phone and then react. "Victoria?" he asks; "Oh, God! What hospital? I'll be there as quick ly as I can. Tell her I'll be there!" As he slams down the receiver, we cut toPhibes in his chauffeured limousine, as the car races along a mountain road. Sud denly it skids while making a sharp turn, plunges down a steep embankment, and bursts into flam es. As this scene fades to darkness.... The locale shifts to a mysterious Swiss clinic in a secluded mountain area. We s ee the back of a bandaged head (Phibes). He sits in a chair in a medical office, being examined b y an intense, thin, Swiss doctor in his 60s. The doctor declares himself pleased beyond all ex pectations with the extensive "repairs" done, regretting, however, that Phibes' face is quite be yond plastic surgery. He expresses sorrow about Victoria's death, assuring Phibes that if he had been chief surgeon, she never would have died on the operating table. The doctor concludes, saying that by al laws of science and nature Phibes should be dead, and that he is sorry to kee p such a medical miracle a secret. Finally, he apologizes for his inability to restore Phibes' lo st voice, but suggests that, music and acoustics being Phibes' field, he might try his own hand at a so lution. "I'm sure you'll come up with something," he says, smiling. We cut to a close-up of Phibes inserting the now-famous phonograph jack into his neck, and we hear his familiar electronic chuckle as he glances at a newspaper showing a phot o of the Swiss doctor. The headline says something about the mysterious death of a controversia l surgeon in an exclusive Swiss clinic. The body was found on its own operating table, strangled , the whereabouts of the murderer unknown. The killer had to have been a man of unusua l strength, because the victim was strangled by only one hand.

Phibes holds up his gloved right hand, flexes the fingers admiringly, and chuckl es again. A narrator tells us that Phibes, no longer living, nor truly dead, was ready to embark on his plan to avenge the death of his beloved wife by systematically murdering the surgical team which attended her at the end. But being no ordinary man, Phibes' murders were no ordi nary murders, but nine very particular deaths based on the G'tach, the ten curses loosed upon the Pharaohs of Egypt by the Hebrews. During this and subsequent narration, we see a brief series of scenes from the f irst and second films, bringing us to the present-in this case, "Three Years Later." The period is some time in the mid-1930s. As the titles begin, we see a secluded canyon bordered by steep mountains. It is night, and a sea of elephant bones and tusks glows in the moonlight. Suddenly a door opens in the apparent solid rock of one mountain. Water cascade s out, into a sort of man-made riverbed in the canyon floor. The water winds its way on concen tric circles, spiraling into a basin at the center. We then see Phibes' barge (from the conclusion of the second film) emerge from t he mountain. On it is Phibes, in a red and white toga. The Rolls-Royce coffin of Victoria lie s on the barge as well. The barge spirals around into the central basin, where it comes to rest. Phibes moves to the coffin and opens it. In close-up we see him looking down at his wife, and he says through his Victrola that the appointed time has arrived: now, after their long voyage together, she can awaken and join him in the last phase of their great plan. Victoria awakens to the ethereal strains of Vulnavia's Theme, slowly opening her eyes and rising to embrace Phibes. They have a brief reunion, in which we learn that they are now immortal and that this place is none other than the legendary Elephants' Graveyard, somewhere in Africa, which w ill supply them with all the wealth they will need to complete their odyssey. We also learn that their next destination is a secret place in England where, hi dden away, they will find a set of seven enchanted ivory figures, the final and essential elemen ts of their plan. We now cut to Phibes and Victoria in their first-class stateroom aboard an ocean

liner. They sit at a table before an elegant repast. Phibes toasts Victoria with champagne, then, i n his customary manner, pours it into a hidden aperture near the back of his neck. We hear a muf fled sound of suction. Victoria responds that she'll do her best to try and get used to little things like that, but Phibes should bear with her in the meantime. We then cut to the couple dancing to Phibes' favorite ballroom music on his trus ty Victrola. Victoria quips that, "This is the life, Anton," whereupon Phibes adds, "Yes, my dear-eternal life." We jump ahead to the ship's arrival in England and Phibes' special limousine wit h painted faces on the windows being lowered to the dock by crane. It is early evening. We cut to a shot of the limo pulling to a stop outside the perimeter of what use d to be Phibes' house in Maldine Square. It has been replaced by a very new hotel. Phibes looks out the one-way glass of the window, enraged. He turns to Victoria, speaking through a hookup to a small speaker console in the car. Victoria is at the wheel . "Who dared defile the sacred grounds of our house?!" he says, his voice hissing and sibilant, "who dared to disturb the secret resting place of our jeweled box and its precio us contents?" "Perhaps it's still there, Anton," says Victoria. "No, Victoria, I think not. Look at the building!" Phibes points at the hotel, h is throat working. "A building of that size demands a sizeable cellar. Larger even than ours was, my d ear, and far deeper. You must make the necessary inquiries while I prepare our new home in th e country. Let us go now. We shall begin our work tomorrow." And as Phibes unplugs himself from the console, we see the car pull away from th e hotel. A succession of scenes follows the next day, in which we see Victoria charming i nformation out of the normally reticent and officious manager of the Maldine Square Hotel. We l earn that the owner occupies the penthouse apartment and should be able to furnish her with th e necessary information. The obviously well-to-do owner of the building is a Mr. Dekker. Dekker is a midd le-aged man with the look of a perpetual bachelor, sophisticated but rather oily, who always seems to be perspiring slightly, especially around attractive women. He gets his first glimp se of Victoria through the fish-eye lens of the peephole. After some suspicious questions, he a

dmits her. We learn that shortly after purchasing the property, which had not been terribly expensive after the publicity of the "Phibes" case (Victoria reacting slightly to this), he had discovered a subterranean compartment during the demolition process, and had found the jewele d box and its six ivory figures. "Six figures?" asks Victoria. "Yes, six," he replies. "And why, may I ask, are you so interested, my dear?" He eyes her lasciviously, perspiring and breathing heavily. "Are you an art collector?" "Not exactly. More of an art historian. And I believe that the figures may be ve ry valuable indeed, if in fact they are part of a set of seven rather than six." "Well, perhaps I should not have been hasty in putting them up for private sale, then," he says. He motions for Victoria to follow him and takes her into a room where he removes an ornate black box inlaid with ivory from a shelf, unlocking it with a key from his pocke t. Inside the box, which has spaces for seven items, is an exquisitely carved figur e of Polyphemus, Homer's Cyclops. He tells Victoria that this is the seventh piece, which he secr etly kept for himself. She asks if he might furnish her with the names of the people who bough t the other six pieces, and he agrees, on the condition that she join him for dinner. By dinner, he will have drawn up a list for her. She agrees, and as she leaves, asks if anyone had ever asked about a seventh figure. He tells her that shortly after he had made it known that he had found the figur es, he was contacted by a very unusual man, Professor Grayson Norquist, who, he says, seeme d to be mad about owning the entire set and, after buying one figure, had contacted the othe r five owners, making larger and larger offers from his collection of archaeological treasures, but to no avail. On one or two occasions, Dekker tells Victoria, he did call inquiring if there m ight be a seventh figure. But Dekker had revealed nothing. On a third occasion, Norquist had paid a call ad had to be thrown out of the hotel. As Dekker escorts Victoria to the elevator, he warns her away from Norquist, say ing that he keeps his acquisitions carefully hidden and would never consent to showing them to anyone. He also asks that she not say anything to him or anyone else about his own "little secret." Victoria agrees, saying she'll meet him there tonight for dinner, providing they 'll be alone

together, of course. "Of course," he says, smiling lecherously, "I wouldn't have it any other way." As she leaves, Dekker moves to a locked room, unlocks the door and enters. Insid e, we see a haggard call girl, her mouth gagged and her wrists tied to two wooden posts. Tea rs stream down her cheeks, and she is bruised and beaten. Untying her, Dekker gives her a fair amount of cash, "to keep you quiet," he say s, "until the next time." He then tells her he won't be needing her tonight because he'll be dining with "a real lady." She runs from the room, stifling sobs, as Dekker smiles self-satisfiedly. We cut to Phibes' and Victoria's country home near Sussex. It is a stone manor h ouse, not unlike the original one in Maldine Square. When we get over our first look at the inter ior, we see at once that Phibes has lost none of his extravagant touch for interior decorating. This is yet another art-deco palace, complete with Phibes' band of "Clockwork Wizards" and g lowing organ. Phibes is plugged into his Victrola and is "speaking" to his wife. "You have done well, my dear, and I thank you...But tonight's work is not for su ch as you. You, like I, are destined soon to drink ambrosia with the gods, and need not trouble now with unfamiliar work. I need the help of one who knows my vengeance well and can anti cipate without the need of words." Victoria nods. Phibes turns toward an ornate door and gestures. Slowly, the door opens to reveal a blazing whiteness. "And once again," says Phibes, I call on you, Vulnavia." As the Vulnavia theme begins, we see her materialize in yet another incarnation, out of the light. "Come," says Phibes, "my trusted aid, to help me in my quest for justice." Vulnavia, more beautiful than ever, wears another of her lavishly improbable hat s and gowns, and moves like a gliding specter to Phibes, who takes her hands. "Thank you, my dear," he says, "for answering my call. And soon, quite soon, whe n our work has been accomplished, you may join us in our destined place. And now we shall begin our task anew." As they move toward another door, Victoria flips a switch and starts up the cloc kwork musicians, who play a lively jazz number as we cut to-

The Maldine Square Hotel. We see a brief sequence of Dekker listening to music o n his Victrola and sprucing himself up in the mirror. Phibes' limo, chauffeured by Vulnavia, pu lls up outside the Hotel's rear entrance. Climbing out of the car, they move silently into the back door, thus bypassing the doorman. We then see Dekker moving to an ornate chair with a book and a glass of wine. He settles down to wait. We cut to the elevator operator standing by th e open elevator with his back to the rear entrance. A cloth soaked in chloroform is clapped over his mouth by a black-gloved hand, and he is pulled into the elevator. Vulnavia follows. The doo r closes. We then see Dekker absorbed in Through the Looking Glass, sipping his drink. He glances at his watch. Cut to Phibes and Vulnavia in the foyer. Phibes removes a small device fr om a doctor's bag, consisting of a round metallic section and a suction cup attached to a cord leading to a sort of plunger. Phibes attaches the suction device to the peephole, then hands the t riggering mechanism to Vulnavia. We cut back to Dekker. The doorbell rings. He gets up, st raightening his coat, and starts for the door. We see Phibes pressing the doorbell a second time , and hear Dekker telling him to hold on. As he reaches the door, we see him putting his ey e to the peephole. "I'm sorry," he says, "Could you step back a little? I can't see a blo ody thing." At which point Phibes nods to Vulnavia, and she pushes down the plunger. A swift piercing noise and the breaking of glass is heard as we see Dekker, from behind, stiffen and then go co mpletely limp, his body hanging impossibly upright while his arms and legs dangle. Phibes nods to Vulnavia a second time, and she pulls the plunger out again, at which point we hear a heavy thud on the other side of the door. Phibes smiles slightly (if masks can be said to smile), removes a skeleton key from his pocket and fits it into the lock. On the other side of the door, we see the door swing inward enough to show Phibes and Vulnavia entering, stepping over Dekker. Phibes retrieves a key from Dekker's pocket and moves to the study, where he wastes no time procuri ng the ivory figure of the Cyclops, the case, and the list of other owners, which lies conspi cuously on the blotter of an otherwise barren desk. As Phibes snatches the list (in close-up) off the desk, he replaces it with the chloroform-soaked cloth and bottle used earlier. A practiced hand then uses the cloth to pick up t he bottle and drops both into a plastic bag, which is handed to someone with an instruction to have the bottle checked for prints. Pulling back, we see the hands are those of Inspector Trout, Phibes' nemesis from Scotland Yard. He looks about the room while his assistant explains that fr

om the servants' testimony, it seems that the Cyclops statuette and case were the only items take n, that the elevator man had not gotten a look at the killer, and that the only likely suspe ct at the moment is a certain Grayson Norquist, who had been thrown out of the building a short time ago for bothering Dekker. Trout instructs his assistant to have Norquist brought in for questioning immedi ately. As the assistant moves to leave, Trout asks, "Did you happen to get a good look at the body?" "I did indeed, sir. Very nasty business," he replies. "Yes," says Trout. "It just occurred to me." "The butler has arrived, gentlemen," says another policeman behind them, and the y turn to see a thin, gray-haired man in his late 60s, very much the typical English butler, sta nding in the doorway in his overcoat. "I came as soon as I could after I received the terrible news. It was quite a sh ock. It was my night off, you see. I hope I can be of some assistance." "Perhaps you can," says Trout, "if you could tell us anything about Mr. Dekker's relationships or dealings with people which might have led to this unfortunate occurrence." "Well," says the butler, wracking his brain, "I don't really know if this is imp ortant or not, but...well, Mr. Dekker always had an eye out for the ladies." We see Trout's look of disapproval at this remark, then cut back to the butler's asking, "Did I say something?" From his look of vague puzzlement, we go to: Phibes' house near Sussex. He is engaged in a ritual much like that in the first film where he blow-torched busts of his victims one by one. However, now he has set up seven figures of wax representing his seven victims. They are rather like voodoo dolls, each labeled with a name and hanging by nooses of thread over miniature tanks filled with liquid. With a grave ceremoniousness, Phibes picks up a pair of gold shears encrusted wi th jewels and uses these to cut the thread suspending the first of the figures. The figure fal ls into the liquid, which hisses and bubbles (obviously some kind of acid). After several seconds, a tiny skeleton floats to surface, grinning its miniature death-grimace. Phibes then moves to Vi ctoria and says, in his best deadpan, "In the country of the blind, my dear, the one-eyed man is King...unless he

is a one-eyed dead man." We then see a few scenes with Phibes, Victoria and Vulnavia at home, dancing, dr inking perhaps engaged in plotting or religious ritual, and of course, we hear another of Phibes' revenge speech to his wife. "Six remain to slow delivery of our pain. Six deter us. Six must die. " Et cetera. We cut to Scotland Yard, the following morning. Professor Norquist is brought in for questioning by Inspector Trout. He claims to know nothing of the other owners of the figures , saying he knew none of their names. Trout informs Norquist of their suspicions concerning his p ossible motive for the murder and theft. He seems genuinely surprised to learn of the theft of the ivory Cyclops, but not disturbed by the murder. He, of course, pleads innocent to the charges, and is held overnight for further questioning. He does not protest. He seems a quiet, intell ectual man, looking very much the role of an archaeologist, art historian, and occult expert , with his lanky build, thinning hair and spectacles. He also has the trace of a British accent i n his rich, deep voice. Altogether, an intriguing but somehow disquieting man. He seems to be in his mid-fifties, is unusually tall and pale, and dresses primarily in blacks and whites, a bit li ke a walking Aubrey Beardsley illustration. He walks with a pronounced limp. Moving now to that evening, we see a small art gallery-cum-museum, surrounded by much property and many trees, in a park-like area. The museum is being locked for the night by its wealthy, snobbish owner, Bernard Hallifax. He is of medium height, very expensiv ely dressed, with graying hair, a white moustache, and a monocle as an affectation. After the door is secure, he tours his small museum, passing a small ivory statu e of Medusa. A moment later he passes a beautiful pair of Egyptian mummy cases, and we linger o n these, as Hallifax moves out of view. Soon both cases swing open to reveal Phibes and Vuln avia. Hallifax steps into his office and closes the door. Soundlessly, Phibes and Vulnavia step from the cases, she holding some fairly la rge object covered by velvet. Moving to the statue's pedestal, Phibes removes the Medusa an d Vulnavia sets the draped object in its place. At this point, Phibes nods to Vulnavia, who moves to another pedestal, on which rests a delicately painted Grecian urn. She picks it up and r aises it over her head as if to drop it, but Phibes stops her with a gesture, having noticed inste ad a strange piece of modern ceramic sculpture. He gives a distasteful glare and motions Vulnavia t o it. And so,

putting the urn back in place, she moves to the ceramic and lets it fall casuall y to the floor, where it shatters. Cutting to Hallifax's office, we see him jump, startled, dropping a snifter of b randy, which also shatters. Grabbing a revolver from a drawer, he runs hurriedly to the door and i nto the museum proper. His footsteps echoing on the marble, he rushes toward the fragments of sculpture . He skids to a stop when he sees Dr. Phibes and his enchanting assistant. The monocle falls fro m his eye. He demands to know who the bloody hell they are. Receiving no answer, he bellows that they are trespassing and wants to know if they are responsible for the mess on the fl oor. Phibes motions to Vulnavia, who curtsies slightly, smiling. "Stupid bloody question!" H allifax chides himself. "Who the hell else could be responsible? By the way, do you have any id ea of the value of that piece you broke?" Phibes answers by making a flippant gesture with his h and, as if to say "Oh, please!" Hallifax notices the Medusa statue in Phibes' hand and gasps "Oh my God!" He beg s Phibes to put it back. Phibes merely hands the figure to Vulnavia and walks toward Hallifa x, who, quite worried by now, backs up, making the usual warnings to keep away or else. Phibes continues his advance without pause. Hallifax fires a shot at Phibes, who doesn't even react. Really terrified now, he fires shot after shot until the chamber has been emptied. Phibes, as tho ugh taking a hammer from a naughty child, takes the gun from Hallifax's trembling hand, disap provingly shaking his head, and crushes it. Dropping what's left of the revolver, Phibes lifts Hallifax with one hand and ca rries him to a chair facing the pedestal now holding the covered object. Vulnavia and Phibes tie him to the chair with silk cords, which had a moment before served as the museum's guard ropes. "You can't DO this to me," he insists, "I'm Bernard Hallifax!" He continues babb ling about his reputation and how he could make or break artists, making some the darlings of t he art world, driving others to suicide. He suddenly realizes he is doing little to help his c ase, and shuts his mouth for the first time. Phibes nods to Vulnavia, who gracefully unveils the object on the pedestal. We s ee that the object is a large mechanical head of medusa made of silver and gold. It has a na sty grimacing face and wide staring eyes made of emeralds. The snakes on her head are also enc

rusted with emeralds and have ruby eyes. Hallifax stares at it in a mixture of wonder and horror, then gets a sudden thou ght. "I know," he says excitedly. "I see now. You want me to buy it for my gallery, but you want a good offer, of course. Well, I'm sure we could arrive at a figure that would please you, no?" P hibes merely nods to Vulnavia a last time, and she flips a gold switch protruding from the ba se supporting the Medusa head. With a clockwork whirring, the head begins to move, springing to li fe as the eyes light up, blazing green, and the hundred ruby eyes of the snakes glow like tiny embers, weaving to and from in a mechanical dance. Hallifax watches, unable to look away. The mouth of the Medusa opens wider and w ider, then freezes open in a silent screen. Suddenly, a high powered jet stream of gray liq uid erupts from the throat, hitting Hallifax with the force of a fire hose. Within seconds he is covered head to toe in quick-drying cement. Cutting to the next morning, we see a tableau consisting of Inspector Trout, sta nding to one side, and Chief Inspector Waverly, standing to the other side. Between them sits Halli fax, a human statue. In the foreground is the Medusa head. Trout and Waverly stare first at each other, then at Hallifax, then at the Medus a. After a few moments, they both cry, "Dr. Anton Phibes!" Waverly quickly adds, "But...no, of course that's impossible, isn't it? I mean, it can't be...can it?" "Do you know of any other man," asks Trout, "capable of turning someone into a b loody statue with a bloody Medusa head?" "I must admit," says Waverly, "you have a point. I suppose there's no other poss ibility. Damn! And I thought we were rid of him for good." "No, sir, Phibes is rather like a nasty cold. Sooner or later, he's bound to com e back." "Waverly looks down at Hallifax and grimaces. "Ooh," he says. "He's really outdo ne himself, this time, hasn't he? I mean, you have to admire someone who can pull off the most co nsistently extravagant crimes and make the police look like absolute idiots. I mean, um...w hat I meant to say was..." He stops, realizing the hold he has dug for himself. He distractedly taps his fingers on Hallifax's head. A piece of cement cracks and chips away, revealing Hallifax's e ye.

"Do you think," said Waverly, "that he could still be...?" Giving Waverly a pained look, Trout says, "I don't think so, sir." "Quite," says Waverly. "Obviously, he's stone dead." We cut to Phibes in his home, cutting a thread which drops the facsimile of Hall ifax into the acid bath. Phibes chuckles quietly and moves to a desk on which rest, side by side, t he ivory figures of the Cyclops and the Medusa. Phibes positions them in such a way that the base s fit together and the statues interlock. Meanwhile, back at Scotland Yard, things do not fit together quite so well for T rout. He is in his office with Professor Norquist, in the midst of explaining how Hallifax died. "And so," he says, "since the murder occurred while you were in our custody, we have no reason to hold you a moment longer. Please accept our sincerest apologies and, of cours e, a police guard will be sent round to your house for your own protection." "Of course," says Norquist, "you were only doing your proper job. But I must inf orm you that there is a very real death curse on those ivory pieces, if indeed they are genui ne, which, in my expert opinion, I believe them to be. Call it superstition if you like, but two men are dead because of those pieces, and more will continue to die, I promise you." "Oh, I don't doubt it," says Trout. "Then you believe what I say?" "If you mean, do I believe in the power of a centuries-old curse, no I do not." "Then what would you call a seemingly inexorable force that strikes out, killing in strange ways, without apparent motive?" "Phibes." "What?" asks Norquist. "Dr. Anton Phibes," says Trout. "And he always has a motive. Although I wish to hell I knew what it was this time." "I recall hearing the name some years back," says Norquist. "That string of gris ly killings, wasn't it?" "That's right," says Trout, "and now he's back again. God only knows why." "A rather unusual man, as I recall," says Norquist. "That's one way of putting it," says Trout.

We cut to Phibes feeding flies to a collection of spiders in a glass tank, delig hting in his task. A couple of brief scenes follow of Trout and his assistants trying to locate the other owners of the ivory figures, with no success. We shift locale to Grayson Norquist's Gothic mansion. In a basement converted to a Greekinfluenced Satanic temple, Norquist, wearing black ceremonial robes and standing before a candlelit altar, reads from an old book in ancient Greek. He finishes, sets the book down and moves to a cabinet, removing a vial of dark liquid. he takes off his robes and t akes the vial upstairs to his study, calling for his valet. The valet, an ominous and powerful oriental with a small moustache, arrives. Norquist shows him the vial, saying, "Do you know what this is, Harold?" The valet shakes his head. "This," says Norquist, "is nothing less than the key to Phibes' destruction: the only thing he fears. Bring me my new toy." Harold moves to a shelf and brings an ebony box to his employer. "You should've seen me at the police statio n," says Norquist, taking the box. "They were convinced I knew nothing about Phibes. They certainly know nothing of my true motives for wanting the ivory figures." He opens the case (containing an odd-looking gun and accessories), and removes a brass projectile with a small needle in its tip. "With this little weapon," says Norqu ist, "I'll be able to get the one thing I need from Phibes." Norquist unscrews the end of the small brass cylinder and pours some of the liqu id from the vial into it, then reseals the cylinder. He then removes the gun from its ebony case and slides the cartridge into it. "Now," he says, "Phibes will be ready and so will I. I look forward to meeting h im, Harold. He's one of the greats." Cut to the interior of a mansion in Hyde Park. It is night. We see Adria, a beau tiful, newly wealthy young black woman, former wife of a multi-millionaire Arab oil baron named Abdul Azzared. She's talking on the phone to her lover, Alphonse. We learn that she recently po isoned her husband for insurance money, not to mention his oil fields. She plans to travel with Alphonse to Paris, and Rome, and Tokyo, and... As she speaks of her plans in a slight Jamaican accent, she absently caresses he r ivory statue of Arachne (a spider). She says that soon the entire world will know the name of Ad ria Azzared. After she hangs up, she picks up a framed photo of her late husband, a sinister-

looking but handsome man, and kisses it, saying, "You may have been a bastard while you were alive, Abdul, but now that you're gone I love you more and more every day." She slips into a silk nightgown and goes into the bedroom. She finds a huge, shi ny black spider the size of a dog crouching on the bedspread. After a moment, she realizes it is a statue of some kind. She checks around the room, in her closet, etc., even looking up at the skylight. Seeing nothing, she decides to ca ll the police. She goes to the phone, but realizes it is dead. In fact, the cord has been cut. She runs to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. She pounds and sc reams, but to no avail. Phibes having tied the door handle to the handle of another door beside it, wait s. He then taps three times on the ceiling with a skull-headed walking stick resembling his own face, minus wig and mask. Vulnavia, outside on the roof looking down through the skylight, activ ates an elaborate, radio-controlled device. A whirring electrical hum sounds within the spider statue. It springs to life, s talking Adria around the room. She hurls objects at it, but they bounce off its iron exterior. we see Vulnavia at the controls again, directing its movements. Then the spider lurches at Adria, hurling from its body a net which pulls tight about her, making her fall. Vulnavia opens the skylight and lowers into the glass case of spiders glimpsed earlier. Once it's on the floor, she pulls a second rope attached to a side panel, releas ing the hundred spiders. Vulnavia then plays a violin as she awaits the inevitable. The hideous little things find their way to Adria and swarm over her. As she scr eams her last, we cut to her wax counterpart falling into its bath, after which her statue is adde d to the other two. With characteristic irony, Phibes turns to Victoria and intones, "Oh, what a tan gled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive." The usual scene of discovery by Trout and Waverly follows. They are dumbfounded, as always, by Phibes' audacity. "A black widow in the middle of Hyde Park!" exclaims Trout. "Another first for P hibes." "Well," says Waverly, pointing to the body, "I'd say her husband's death had som ething to do with that."

"I'm going to ignore that statement," says Trout. "What statement, Perch? I mean, Trout. You know, sometimes, I don't understand y ou." 'Never mind, sir," says Trout. "It wasn't important. The important thing is loca ting the other three owners before Phibes does. We've gotten absolutely no response from the warnings we placed in the papers. All we know is that each killing so far has related in some way t o the ivory statue which the victim possessed. That leaves...let me see now, not counting Norquist and his minotaur...a man with wings, a wooden horse, and a three-headed dog. Take your p ick. Now what thing, other than owning one of the statuettes, have all of the victims, or potential victims in Professor Norquist's case, had in common? Only one thing-money. All of them very wealthy indeed. Beyond that, nothing really. And none of the victims seem to have known each other, except, of course, for the limited contact each had with Dekker. We've contact a lmost every art collector in the city by now, we've taken out space in every newspaper warning t he remaining people, whoever the hell they are, that their lives may be in danger, and we've checked with every auction house. And we still haven't a bloody clue! Phibes really has outdo ne himself this time. But what I can't understand is why the other three owners, having seen the papers by now, haven't contacted Scotland Yard?" We cut immediately to the dark, wood-paneled study of Tony "Noodles" Romano-a to ughlooking, squarely-built man in his mid-fifties. He is smoking a cigar and talkin g loudly to an assistant. It is obvious from the start that he is American and dangerous; a man who has lived his life outside the law and whose bank account has profited enormously from it. We also can see from the photos and objects that he obviously owns race horses. "Listen, George," he says to a mild-looking assistant, "you gotta be nuts if you think I'm gonna call up the damn limey police because of some newspaper ad. What with my backgro und they'd have me framed for those other murders in two seconds flat! Use your head for so methin' besides keepin' your ears apart! And those other clowns Dekker sold the statues to would have to be crazy to go to the cops, too. But at least I didn't have to pay for the one I got. No sir, one of the nice things about a business like mine-you collect on a lot of debts...Now i f you don't mind, I've got a little business matter to attend to before I take old Trojan out. I'l l see you in 20 minutes on the track. Be there."

"OK, Noodles," says George. "I was only thinkin' o' your safety, y'know." "That touches me, George, really, but do I look like a man who needs protection? " With that, he is out the door, trailing cigar smoke behind. He heads for his private stables, but stops as two more assistants escort a frig htened-looking little Englishman over to meet him. Romano beams at him and grasps his hand in a bone-crushing grip. We see in close -up that the English is missing part of a finger. "Well," says Romano, grinning, "so you made the mistake of betting against my ho se? Not wise, my friend; you also neglected to pay back your little debt. That was your second mistake. Surely you remember what happened the last time you failed to come through?" The Englishman is now shaking and sweating. "Please, Mr. Romano," he says, "if you could just give me one more day..." "Call me Tony," says Romano, "and that's what you told me the last time. I'm afr aid you still haven't learned." He motions to one of his assistants. "Take him away." As the man is hauled off whimpering, Romano whispers to his assistant, "Take off two fingers this time." Romano moves to his stable and in particular, the stall of his favorite horse, T rojan. In place of his pride and joy he seems a vision from a dream-the lovely Vulnavia standing beside a wooden replica of a horse. A bright red ribbon wraps around its middle. The ho rse is quite large, with an oversized head and a wide, gaping mouth with square steel teeth. Romano is more interested in Vulnavia. "What the hell is this?" he asks, "some kind of a joke?" Vulnavia moves to him, puts her arms over his shoulders and around his neck, and kissing him softly. "Hey," he says, "I'll bet 'Eggs' put you up to this, didn't he? Benedict is one hell of a crazy guy?" Vulnavia removes a card attached to a ribbon and hands it to Romano. It says, "For the man who likes to look a gift horse in the mouth." "that's Benedict, all right!" crows Romano. "Just like the son of a bitch! Well, he owes me a few, so this I gotta see!" With that, he sticks his head into the mouth. At this moment, Phibes appears on the opposite side of the stall behind the half -door. Grabbing

the horse's raised wooden tail, he slams it down, causing the horse's steel jaws to clang shut. Romano's decapitated body falls to the sawdust on the floor. Phibes opens the stall door and rocks the horse from side to side. An object thu ds loosely about the belly and Phibes smiles. Offering his arm to Vulnavia, he walks out of the s table, stepping over the corpse on the way as if this was just a normal day. As they leave, they pass a wooden sign reading "Sleepy Hollow Ranch." We cut to: A walnut being crushed in the mouth of a toy soldier nutcracker, then taken out and given to Victoria by Phibes. As she munches on the nut, Phibes reads: Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicaean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome. We cut to a close-up of Phibes' shears advancing toward Romano's effigy, only to snip off the body at the neck, rather than cutting the thread. The tiny skeleton bobs headles s to the surface. "Oh, Anton," says Victoria, "couldn't we just skip the others and leave this dre ary country?" She puffs on a cigarette in a long holder and exhales languidly. "Soon," says Phibes, "quite soon, my love, my queen, my noble wife, but though w e have eternal life, 'tis not enough. We must ascend to great heights than even we have know, o r end in dark without a light, so lost, and so alone. And so patience, Victoria, for very soon we shall yet sail for our enchanted isle. But three remain, preventing all delivery from our pain. Thr ee more pieces, three more lives, then we shall take our rightful places. But not if one of them survives." We cut to the home of multi-millionaire munitions manufacturer Maximillian Thund ershaft, a portly German with a bristling red crew cut and a florid complexion. His walls are covered with antique and modern weapons, pistols, rifles, swords, maces, shields, et cetera. He is pacing up and down his living room and blustering to his quiet, timid-looking wife. "Thundershaft Industries is not doing well this year, you know. And so, my dear, as long as defense spending continues to be reduced I have no choice but to lay off more em

ployees and wait for a change, do I? No. What I need is a good war. That would set Maximilli an Thundershaft on top again where he belongs. Do you realize that only fifteen years ago Thunde rshaft Industries sold more guns, more ammunition, more cannons, and more grenades than any other company in all of England?! And now look at it! It's a corporation without a pur pose!" His tirade is cut off by the barking of three Dobermans in his backyard. We see them briefly, baring their teeth. All at once, the barking stops, ending in a few yelps. Then ominous silence. "You wait here!" says Thundershaft to his wife. "I go see!" Grabbing a handgun f rom the wall and loading it from a belt beneath his coat, he runs to a door and heads for the yar d. Outside in the moonlight we see a pair of tall white patent leather boots standi ng beside the recumbent forms of the dogs. Thundershaft, gun outstretched, runs across to them . "What the hell are you doing?" he bellows, "who let you in here?" Vulnavia, eleg antly dressed in white fur, smiles demurely. "I demand to know who you are!" he shouts. He then spots his beloved dogs, out o f commission on the grass. He stares in disbelief. "My babies!" he shrieks, "My God, my babies! You've killed them! Well, now I kil l you!" He empties the gun at Vulnavia, who simply brushes an errant strand of hair from he r face and steps casually toward the finally speechless Thundershaft. He stares and she takes his pistol, tosses it aside and kisses his cheek. Motioning to the garden's edge, she directs his atte ntion to Phibes, who emerges from the hedges, wearing an elaborate black fur outfit. He holds a l eash in his hand attached to a vicious-looking three-headed hound, obviously Cerberus, guard ian of the gates of Hades. The hound does not walk, but rather rolls along on an automated platform with wh eels toward Thundershaft. Vulnavia seductively draws a long white fur stole across his throa t. When Phibes comes within a few feet, he stops, halting his pet, which stands poi sed in front of Thundershaft. Phibes flips a switch on the platform, then he and Vulnavia stand aside. The six red eyes of the dog light up. The jaws of the middle head open slowly to reveal a pointed red tongue. Suddenly the tongue leaps out of the mouth at great speed to whip ar

ound Thundershaft's legs, holding them fast together. Phibes then removes his speaker cord from the pocket of his coat, plugging one e nd into his neck and the other into a portable console attached to Cerberus' rolling base. H is electronic voice then melodramatically intones, "Cry Havoc! and let slip the dogs of war." At this, the second mouth of the dog opens, spitting a long stream of liquid at Thundershaft, partially covering him. "Oh my God!" he says, smelling the liquid, "not gasoline! No! What are you doing ? You're going to burn in hell for this!" "Guess again," says Phibes, as the third mouth drops open and a thin tongue of f lame streaks out, igniting Thundershaft. We cut to Thundershaft's meek wife sitting on the living room sofa, now looking noticeably uneasy as she sees a tall pillar of flame out in the garden. A black-gloved hand comes into view and silently picks up the ivory figure of Ce rberus sitting on the glass coffee table in front of her. She sees Phibes, who takes her hand, kisses it in his most continental fashion, and smiling silently, leaves her sitting in complete bewilderment. We cut to early that morning. We see Trout and his men standing over the still-s moking remains of Thundershaft's corpse, looking utterly defeated. As Waverly joins him he shak es his head, saying, "I don't know what can be said at this point, sir. We found a revolver b y the body which had been recently fired by the deceased and yet nowhere is there any sign of blo od. And it's quite obvious he wasn't shooting at this damnable three-headed death machine. Th ere's not a scratch on it. I mean, I don't know what more we can do. A man who, by all right s, is supposed to be dead is stalking London accompanied by a woman whose acid-scarred corpse disa ppeared from our pathology lab only to reappear three years later in Egypt and then disa ppear under our noses again. And now she's back once more not only with her dead half-synthetic employer but with a woman matching identically the photographs of his dead wife. And together they are enforcing seven more bloody ancient curses without anyone so much as saying boo to them! Now what would you do, sir, if you were in my position?" "Quit," says Waverly succinctly. "Right," says Trout, handing over his badge and walking off.

Waverly, left standing with the remainder of a case in his hands, looks about aw kwardly and then says to the remaining police officers, "Well, don't just stand there do something! And never forget-a real Englishman never gives up, you know. We've got to keep the home fi res burning!" At this, all three officers hand in their badges and walk off, leaving Waverly a lone. "Well, I suppose it's back to the drawing board," says Waverly. We cut to a close-up of a diagram being drafted of a man with a hang glider. Nex t to it is a similar drawing of Leonardo's showing a man with a mechanical-winged flying devi ce. Pulling back, we see the artist is none other than Phibes, who, taking a break from his work, flamboyantly inserts the end of a long cigarette holder into the aperture at the back of his neck. We see the tip of the cigarette light up briefly and then smoke escapes from his nostrils. Coughing, he hands the cigarette holder back to its owner, Victoria, and shakes his head. "A nasty habit, my dear," he says. We cut to a shot of the fifth wax doll fallin g to its demise in the acid below. We are then blinded by sunshine and find we are out at sea. A small sailboat is rocking to and fro in the waves and in it sit Phibes and Vulnavia. She looks at something throu gh a spyglass as Phibes mans the rudder, steering in a large, lazy circle. Vulnavia, seeing somet hing, hands Phibes the glass and points to a spot on the top of some nearby cliffs. From his point of view we see a man, a young woman, and a parked car. The man fiddles with something like a large kite. Phibes smiles at Vulnavia and returns the glass. Cutting to the young man and woman, we see that the contraption is a hang glider , although only a crude approximation of the kind we have today. The young woman, apparently his fiance, is trying to persuade him not to be so foolish. "Please, Hamilton," she says, "For me don't do this." "But Mary, darling," he says, "I've done this a number of times, and nothing's h appened yet." "There's always a first time," she replies. "You know, someday I hope to be Mrs. Hamilton Sedgwick." "Ah," he says, only half-joking, "I've heard it before. What you really want are my millions isn't that it?"

"Well, you are one of the richest and most eligible bachelors in the world. A gi rl would be foolish not to be a bit interested right from the start. "Yes," he says, "as you were, as they all were. Oh, for a bit of peace. Why can' t a fellow in my position simply have fun and enjoy life without all manner of niggling responsib ilities, and charities popping up for handouts, and women trying to get their claws into him? " "Oh," she says, furious now, "Well, I like that. You know, I hope you do go flyi ng and I hope you fall and break your bloody back!" "Charming," he says, then, moving the cliff's edge, "Ta-ta...try not to miss me too much. I'll send a postcard if I think of it." With that, he leaps off the edge of the cliff into the blue. Phibes, watching him like a hawk from the boat, follows him with the telescope. Suddenly Sedgwick is in trouble. Grappling with the control mechanisms of the glider, he begins to panic as bits and pieces of the huge kite begin to come apart as though put together w ith softening wax which is now coming unstuck. Desperately Sedgwick grabs the handlebars of the gl ider tightly and wrenches them to one side. Suddenly they begin to distort, stretching ludicr ously like a string of chewing gum. The cloth wings of the glider begin to shred in thin jagged tears like tissue pa per. Before Sedgwick can understand what's happening, the kite folds up on itself like an um brella blown inside out. With a scream Sedgwick falls straight to his death in the sea hundre ds of feet below, his body creating a huge splash not far from Phibes and Vulnavia. Phibes is spra yed with a few drops of water, which he casually wipes away with a silk handkerchief. We then see a horror-stricken close-up of Sedgwick's fiance. We cut to the bedroom of Sedgwick's house. On the night table by the bed sits th e statue of Icarus, and beside it a book, a biography of the Wright Brothers. Phibes' famili ar gloved hand comes into view, holding a pen. Opening the cover of the book, he writes on the liner page, "If man had been meant to fly, the gods would have given him wings." Signing, "Since rely, Dr. Anton Phibes," he picks up the statue, and we cut to: Sedgwick's effigy plummeting to its death in a sea of acid as the golden shears ship the next to last thread. Cut to Waverly's office at Scotland Yard. Before him, on the desk, is the book P

hibes inscribed. Waverly is talking to Sedgwick's distraught fiance. "And that's all you saw?" he asks. "Just Hamilton falling and then a splash, yes," she says tearfully. "And nothing else?" "Well, no...nothing besides the sailboat." "What sailboat?" Waverly asks. "Oh, just a sailboat," she replies, "with two people in it. It looked like a man and a woman." "Right. And I think I know what man and woman. None other than your husband's mu rderers." "Fianc's." "Pardon?" "Hamilton wasn't my husband. We were engaged. And why do you think he was killed ?" Waverly hands her the Wright Brothers biography, opening it to the liner page an d Phibes' inscription. When she has read it, Waverly takes it back, saying "Well, you can' t say he doesn't have a sense of humor, eh what?" As the fiance stares in disbelief at this statement, the office door opens and Tr out enters, excusing himself to the lady and addressing his superior. "Sir," he says, "I had a change of heart. I just couldn't bear to leave this with you. I mean I wouldn't want you to have to handle this all by yourself." Waverly, miffed, but forced to keep up appearances, says, "Thank you, Blowfish I m ean, Trout. Very considerate." "Well, to be honest, it's a bit more than that, sir," says Trout. "You see, I've done a bit of work on my own. I took the liberty of checking all recent reservations on cruises out of London, and two names showed up on the same list Grayson Norquist and a Mrs. Victoria Regina Smith ." "Trout," says Waverly, "I appreciate your efforts, but Grayson Norquist is free to go anywhere he chooses, and as for the lady, the name means nothing." "Sir," says Trout, "Phibes' wife is named Victoria Regina as well." "So?" "Her maiden name was Smith."

"Is that all? Smith is a common enough name, certainly?" "Victoria Regina Smith?" says Trout. "And she requested an organ for her statero om." "Well, I do see your point, Cod." But I think I'd like to take my time and handl e this my own way," says Waverly, striving to maintain his superiority. "With respect, sir," says Trout, "the ship does depart in (he checks his watch) ex actly fifteen minutes." "Right!" says Waverly, leaping from his chair and grabbing his coat. He rushes f rom the room, followed by Trout, who quickly apologizes to the surprised fiance. Cutting to the seaport in question, we see Waverly's car come screeching to a st op. Both Waverly and Trout emerge and run toward the water's edge only to see Norquist and Phibes' boat sailing off under clouds of smoke with blasts of its horns. "Damn!" says Trout. "They never leave on time until you don't want them to. I'm afraid we'll have to book the next ship." "Don't be silly, Trout," says Waverly, "come on!" Waverly runs to a private yacht, which he quickly boards, followed by the loudly protesting Trout. Moving to the yacht's helm, Waverly removes his gun and badge, stating to the bo at's astonished owner that he is from Scotland Yard. He then points to the receding o cean liner and orders the poor man to "Follow that ship!" We show two contrasting scenes, first of Norquist sitting in his stateroom scrib bling something on a card, then that card being delivered to Victoria in the Phibes stateroom. She hands it to her husband. Opening the envelope, Phibes reads the card aloud. It says: "I have the means to help or harm you. You have the means to help or harm me. We either compromise or both fail. U ntil we meet. Respectfully, Grayson Norquist." Phibes sets down the card. He looks at his wife , troubled. "What do you think he wants, Anton?" asks Victoria. "We shall see, my dear. He knows of our needs, and surely must be prepared to re ciprocate if we should meet his. But at what cost to each? The answer will come soon enough." As we cut back to Trout and Waverly, it should be noted that Vulnavia was nowher e to be seen in Phibes' stateroom. Trout sits in the deck chair, looking slightly seasick. Wa verly is standing at the yacht's rail, looking dreamily out to sea. "Trout," he says wistfully, "did

you ever stop to think what might have been accomplished if Phibes had turned his genius to the betterm ent of mankind rather than against it?" "I'd rather not, sir, if its all the same to you," says Trout, closing his eyes and reclining far back in his chair. "Well," says Waverly, "at least Britannia rules the waves. Oh yes, and where exa ctly are we going, Trout?" "The Greek isles, sir. Crete, to be specific." "Ah," says Waverly, "Travel! Well, Trout, even though we are British, thank God, we should keep in mind a variation on the old maxim for tourists. In other words, 'When in Cret e do as the Cretans do!'" "That shouldn't be too difficult for you, sir," says Trout, as we cut to: A map showing the route from London to Greece, animated red lines showing the id entical courses of the two vessels as they near their destination. Then we cut to Phibes' limousine being driven off the arrival port on Crete and Norquist climbing into a cab and following closely after. And just a few moments later we spot Trout and Waverly running as fast as they c an toward a second taxi which they leap into shouting instructions at the confused driver an d pointing. Soon the driver gets the right idea and takes off in the direction of Phibes' and Nor quist's vehicles. We then have a brief chase to Phibes' mountain temple as first Phibes' limousine heads straight for a wall of solid rock in the mountain, when a stone door opens inward to admi t the entire car. When Norquist arrives seconds later hr runs from the cab, the driver screaming a fter him, and disappears on foot into the dark of the secret entrance. The stone door slides i nto place behind him. Just then Trout and Waverly show up, furious and exasperated, and search for ano ther means of entrance. Once inside, we find Norquist in some sort of maze or, more appropriately, labyr inth of stone lit at intervals by torches. Norquist, suspicious of this at once, removes his speci al gun from its holster concealed beneath his jacket and proceeds with caution through the many twists and turns.

At several points, Norquist narrowly avoids being trapped by spring-triggered ca ges of steel, suddenly opening pits and trap-doors, chain nets and so on, but always he manage s to escape them, being quite careful not to lose his pistol. He finally reaches the end of this ordeal when he finds himself at the end of a long narrow corridor of stone and sees he can do nothing more at this point save to turn bac k. It is at this moment that a hidden door slides up in the wall to Norquist's righ t (as he faces the corridor with his back to the dead end) to reveal the figure of Phibes now dress ed exactly as we saw him in the opening flashback sequences of the film in full Grecian costume. He is plugged into a wall speaker and his 'voice' echoes, reverberating through the labyrinth as he addresses Norquist. "So," he says, "we meet at last. I am most honored to have such a worthy opponen t." "And I might say the same of you, Dr. Phibes," says Norquist, "but I'm afraid th ere's little place for pleasantries now." And he raises his pistol, leveling it at Phibes' chest, s aying, "I said I could hurt you, if you recall." Phibes, unperturbed by the sight of a gun, merely says, as though to a student, "But you cannot end a life that has no end." "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Phibes," says Norquist, still leveling the g un, "most men would not be able to end an immortal life, but I am not most men...No. Water gav e you eternal life and only water can end it for all eternity. And I am prepared to do that, f or I have within a very special bullet, a previous liquid. For fighting fire with fire, so to speak . Yes, while you were discovering the River of Life, I was making a parallel discovery of my own, a di scovery I lost forever when it was buried b a volcanic disturbance, the River of Death...of Hel l itself...Yes, Phibes, the River Styx. And its waters are black and its banks lined with black onyx and both the waters and the stones that it touches are dark with power. Power equal to yours. I am a disciple of that power, as you are disciple of yours. And I am prepared to use that power now." At this point, for the first time in any of the films, we see true fear in Phibe s' blazing eyes. He realizes he has finally met his match. Maybe more than his match. Norquist aims the gun carefully and tightens his finger on the trigger. Phibes d oesn't move, but

merely stands frozen with terror at the sudden possibility of oblivion. "We are really not so very different, you and I," says Norquist, merely opposite sides of a single coin. There is, I happen to believe, a little of hell in heaven and a little hea ven in hell. Yin and yang. Dark and light. The eternal balance. My preference, my destiny, happens to fall in the darkness rather than in the light. That is the only difference...too bad really. We might have been great friends...but now...I must have what I came to find. The black necklace of Hades, god of the underworld...the one you wear to protect yourself from evil. Phibes...I must have it." For a moment these two nd staring at each other. Then, very we saw clearly in the opening own neck using one hand, never taking obsessed and brilliant men stand in silence, motionless a slowly, Phibes reaches up and removes the necklace (which sequence), handing it to Norquist, who puts it around his the fun off Phibes.

"Thank you," says Norquist, "for fulfilling your part in the plan. Besides, wher e you're going you'll have no need of this." He fondles the necklace briefly and then, after another m oment of tension as he continues to aim the gun, he suddenly tosses it aside. Then, removing a pe nknife from his pocket, he uses it to slash open his right pant leg which he then tears off, exp osing a prosthetic limb. Phibes reacts to this as, bending over, Norquist opens a hidden compartmen t in the artificial leg and removes from it the seventh of Phibes' enchanted ivory figure s the Minotaur. Handing it to Phibes, Norquist says, "You'll have far more use for this than I." Phibes, obviously grateful, says, "I thank you, my friend. You are indeed extraordinary; the only one I have encountered capable of comprehending my great plan. I salute you." Norquist nods and with this lays bare his chest, exposing a large tattoo of Grec ian design with various occult signs and letters. Hen then produces the vial of precious dark wa ter from the River Styx and, opening it, dabs several dots of water with his finger on specific poi nts of the tattoo. Then, this done, he swallows the remaining liquid with a grimace and smashes the bottle against the stone floor. "Now, Phibes," says Norquist, "I would ask one final favor of you, then nothing more." "Anything," says Phibes. "Send me on my way...please give me the gift of death. Now, Phibes. From a maste r of death."

Nodding in understanding, Phibes throws a switch in the stone causing the far en d of the corridor to slope upwards, and revealing a large golden statue of the Minotaur, its bull' s head bent forward, the long sharp horns like twin daggers thrust before it. As Norquist se es this, he smiles radiantly and music swells and he throws out his arms to the sides in a gesture of welcome and acceptance. "It is better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven," he quotes, as he closes his eyes, waiting. "Good luck, my friend," says Phibes, "on your journey." Phibes throws the witch into a second re, which glides down the gradually slanting corridor, y of Norquist, impaling him on its horns and pinning isappears behind the sliding wall of stone, and we cut position, releasing the huge golden creatu picking up speed, and smashes into the bod him to the wall. Phibes, statue in hand, d to:

The exterior of the mountain. Trout and Waverly are desperately circling the per imeter, searching for some chink in the armor, so to speak. All at once there is a clap of thunder, and dark, heavy thunderclouds begin to roll in across the wind-whipped sky. Trout an d Waverly look up, frowning. "Not a good sign, sir," says Trout. We cut back to Phibes in his art-deco temple featured in the prologue. We seen h im cut the last of the seven threads of fate, but this time only to free the wax image. Instead of consigning it to the usual fate, he place it within the box formerly containing the seven ivory f igures, and closes it like a miniature coffin. This done, he moves to an altar lit with many candles a nd kneels before the seven interlocked statues. Turning them on their side, he exposes their roun d base. This base is a carved symbol of the staff of Hermes, surrounded by Greek words and ch aracters. It is not at all unlike a slightly different version of Norquist's tattoo. Phibes then removes his "face" and wig, exposing his true, skull-like, battered visage, and plugging himself in to the Victrola, begins an electronic prayer to the gods: Oh, through the staff of Hermes, Oh, your messenger so swift Both god of winds and wealth We send our prayer and precious gifts. Oh, Zeus, please heed our call, Accept these bribes. Your humble servant, Dr. Anton Phibes.

As these words are concluded, the candles flick suddenly and we hear a loud rumb ling of thunder. Phibes takes Victoria's hand. "Come, my queen, my wife, the time has come. The moon in conjunction with the et ernal planets has pointed the way by which we may ascend to great Olympus and drink ambrosia t here beside the gods, to live forever in our appointed place. But first I go below to hide m y face beneath the mask again, as I may seem to live once more. And then please join me there, my l ove, to start our journey home." His mask and wig in hand, Phibes unplugs himself and descends a flight of steps into a lower chamber. Once there, he sits at his makeup table, looking at his shattered, grotesque ref lection. While outside we see Trout and Waverly run behind an outcropping of rock to hide from the terrible force of the wind. We go inside and follow the figure of Victoria down the flight of steps to Phibe s' makeup room. She seems Phibes' familiar back, the wig obviously back in place. As she approaches, she sees the wig still on the makeup table, as are the mask a nd other pieces. Confused, she moves to her husband and places a delicate hand on his sho ulder. And at this he turns around to look at her and we see to our surprise, as well as to Vi ctoria's, that his appearance is exactly as it was in life as it was in the prologue that of a healthy and normally complexioned man. Phibes' eyes glisten with tears as he looks up at his wife, Vulnavia's theme swe lling in the background. Victoria's own eyes begin to fill with tears at seeing her husband w hole again. Phibes lifts up his coil of speaking cord, and, tossing it on the table alongsid e his wig and mask, stands, and then speaks for the first time, naturally and with his own voice, hi s lips forming each word perfectly. "Our prayer was hard, my love," he says, "I'm back again." And as Phibes gesture s toward a duplicate of his glowing organ within a stone alcove, its pink-orange light begi ns to glow brighter as slowly, a figure begins to materialize beside it. In a moment we see that it is that of Vulnavia, but not the Vulnavia we are used to seeing. She is dressed in Grecian style and in full battle armor, complete with helmet, sword and shield.

"Vulnavia," says Phibes, "at last in your one true form. Athena, goddess of wisd om, skills and war, come down through storm and wind to lift us to the height, past cloud and r ain and into starry night. I thank you for all that you have done, my dear, in helping us to join you, finally, here." And then, most startlingly of all, Vulnavia, now Athena, speaks! Her voice is lo vely and musical as she holds out her arms to Phibes and Victoria. "Come, Children of Zeus. You do not belong here in this age. This time has no pl ace for you. You are of a different race now, and must take leave of moral worlds to find you r home among the sky and stars. Come with me, now, it is time." Phibes and Victoria go to her, and she briefly embraces them. Positioning Victor ia on one side of the organ seat and herself on the other, Vulnavia motions Phibes to sit and play . As he does, the organ rises upward slowly, disappearing into a shaft above the alcove. Outside, the storm has abated somewhat. Twilight is deepening. Shafts of blue light pierce the billowin g clouds at various points. Trout and Waverly have emerged from their shelter and back up to get a look at the mountain. Suddenly they see something that astonishes them. Arched above the mountain in the darkening sky and among the gray storm clouds is a perfect rainbow. "A rainbow!" says Waverly, pointing. "At night!" says Trout. "Impossible!" says Waverly. "Nothing's impossible with Phibes," says Trout. We see a door open in the top of the mountain, from which Phibes' organ, carryin g himself, Victoria and Athena, emerges. It gains speed like a bird taking easy flight, and does not stop upon reaching the mountaintop, but rises into the starry night sky. Trout and Wa verly see this and begin to wave and gesticulate. Realizing the futility of it, they simply sta re in wonder as the beautifully glowing organ rises to the crest of the rainbow. We see a God's-eyeview shot looking down at the organ rising toward us. The ground, the mountain and the island rece de behind it. We see, from Trout and Waverly's perspective, the organ simply fading away into the twilight. Only the rainbow remains. Waverly abruptly declares, "It's all some kind of trick! Things like that can't happen! Strike me dead if it's not a hoax!"

Suddenly a thunderbolt strikes from the sky, vaporizing Waverly instantly, in a brilliant flash, leaving Trout gaping. We hear, loud and echoing, the familiar laugh of Dr. Phibes. We cut to the night rainbow above the mountain, as the strains of "Somewhere Ove r the Rainbow" fill the soundtrack. The credits begin to roll. It is: THE END