A book opens to a definition of Lycanthropy which includes a reference to Talbot Castle.
Larry Talbot returns to his father's estate in Wales.
Chauffer: Talbot Castle, Mr. Larry.
Sir John Talbot: Welcome home, Larry.
Larry Talbot: I'm mighty glad to be here, father.
They enter the estate.
Larry: Hasn't changed much, has it.
Sir John: Not in three hundred years, except for a few modern conveniences. . . Do you know Paul Montford?
Montford: Just dropped in to say hello. Welcome home, Larry.
Larry: We used to snitch apples together.
Sir John: Now he's Chief Constable of the district.
Montford: Which reminds me, I've got to get to work. See you tonight about nine, Sir John?
Sir John: Fine.
Montford: Glad to have you back, Larry.
Larry: Thanks. Bye-bye.
Larry: So, old Paul turned out to be a cop, huh?
Sir John: Cop?
Larry: Yeah, a cop. Policeman. You know.
Sir John: He's Captain Montford, retired.
Larry looks at a portrait above the fireplace.
Larry: Father. . . . I'm sorry about John.
Sir John: Your brother's death was a blow to all of us. . . Sit down, won't you? . . . You know, Larry, there's developed what amounts to a tradition about the Talbot sons. The elder, next in line of succession and so forth, is considered in everything. The younger frequently resents the position in which he's found and leaves home, just as you did.
Larry: Yes, but, Father, I'm here now.
Sir John: Fortunately. But isn't it a sad commentary on our relationship that it took a hunting accident and your brother's death to bring you?
Larry: It really isn't as bad as it sounds. I've watched every bit of news about you. I was mighty proud when you won the Belden Prize for research.
Sir John: The whole business is probably my fault. See, the tradition also insists that the Talbots be the stiff-necked undemonstrative type. Frequently this has been carried to very unhappy extremes.
Larry: Don't I know that.
Sir John: Larry. Let's decide, you and I, that between us there shall be no more such reserve.
Larry (shakes his father's hand): I'll do everything that I can, sir.
Sir John: Well, that should be considerable. You know, the eighteen years you've been away should have qualified you to be of immeasurable benefit to the the estate, since, in a great many ways, we are a backward people, but don't quote me.
The two butlers, Kendall and Roberts, carry in a wood box marked, 'Glass.'
Sir John: What have you got there?
Butler: It's from London, sir. I think it's the new part for the telescope.
Sir John: Of course. Come along, lad. . . Come on. Up to the attic. It's an observatory now.
They all head up to the attic and Larry is seen working on the telescope.
Larry: There you are sir, I think that has it.
Sir John: I'll have a look at it.
Sir John peers into the telescope.
Sir John: It's excellent! Where'd you learn such precision work?
Larry: Optical company in California. We did quite a job on that Mount Wilson Observatory.
Sir John: Are you interested in astronomy?
Larry: Not especially. I'm all right with tools. In fact, I've done quite a little work with astronomical instruments, but when it comes to theory, I'm pretty much of an amateur.
Sir John: All astronomers are amateurs. When it comes to the heavens, there's only one professional. . . Fine. . . Well, I've got some things to do before lunch. I'll leave you to it.
Sir John leaves and Larry looks around town with the telescope. With a touch of the "wolf," he spies on a young woman in her room above the Charles Conliffe antique shop. She is putting on earrings. He visits this shop and Gwen Conliffe, the young woman and daughter of the shop owner, greets him when he enters.
Gwen: Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?
Larry: Why, yes. I'm looking for a gift. Something in earrings.
Gwen: Certainly. We have some very nice ones. There's these diamond ones. They're very smart. Or how about these pearl ones?
Larry: No. I don't think any of those will do. What I'm really looking for is something half-moon shaped with spangles on it. Golden.
Gwen: I'm sorry. We haven't any like that just now.
Larry: Oh, yes, you have. Don't you remember? On your dressing table, up in your room.
Gwen: In my room?
Larry: Yes. Would you mind getting them for me?
Gwen (stammering): Well, they're not for sale.
Larry: Well, I can't say that I blame you. They looked so well on you.
Gwen: Well, perhaps my father can help you. I'll call him.
Larry: No, no, that won't be necessary. As long as I can't have the earrings, perhaps I . . . I'll buy a cane.
Gwen: Tell me, how did you know about the earrings in my room?
Larry: I'm psychic. Every time I see a beautiful girl, I know all about her. (snaps his fingers) Just like that.
Gwen: What kind of cane would you like? We have daywear or eveningwear.
Larry: It doesn't matter.
Gwen: There's this one, it's very smart. Solid-gold top.
Larry: No. I don't think that'll do.
Gwen: Well, how about the little dog? That would suit you.
Larry: No, thanks. . . . Well, here's one. Would make a good putter.
Gwen (chuckles): Yes, it would.
Larry: That's funny. Another dog.
Gwen: No, that's a wolf.