The Missing Juror1944

Harry Wharton:
Now you know why I ordered everything in twelves. Call it what you will - obsession, insanity, murder complex.

Alice Hill:
Do you believe that by destroying others you can bring ease to your own mind?

Harry Wharton:
I must try. I can't go on this living death. I must find myself.

Alice Hill:
Over the bodies of your innocent victims?

Harry Wharton:
Innocent? Was it innocent to send me to the death house? Have you any conception what it's like inside those cold walls? Waiting, eternally waiting. To fall asleep and awaken night after night with that choking sensation in your throat. You and the others die only once. I died 100 times, 1000 times. I must find myself.

Alice Hill:
Can you find yourself through murder, through cruelty? I remember they said at your trial that...

Harry Wharton:
That I was the gentlest of men? I am. But only when the twelve are hanged can I return to the land of the living, to the beautiful things I loved. Stand up, Alice. [He grasps a noose that is hanging down from a ceiling beam. Alice tries to scream, but he covers her mouth with his gloved hand] It's no use screaming. No one will hear you.