All language subtitles for Fragment Of Fear 1970 720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]_eng

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- WOMAN: Bruno!
- Si.

- Una tazza di latte.
- Bene.

- Bruno.
- Si.

- Con tarteccini.
- Va bene.

Bruno. Con molto zucchero.

- Beautiful day.
- Si, si.

BRUNO: ...per fare amore alle
belle donne stasera.

I bring a friend?

MAN:
Bruno.

Scusa.

Good morning, Mrs. Dawson.

Signor Bardoni.

Aunt Lucy! Oh, I'm sorry.
Good morning.

Would you like some
breakfast or something?

Bless you. No, dear, I've had it in bed
because I wanted to finish your book.

Tim, I do congratulate you.
It deserved its success.

Thank you.

I... I wasn't sure that it would be
up your street at all. I mean...

That's because we're
still strangers, dear.

My street's wider than you think.

You don't, of course, identify
your former... associates.

Has it ever occurred to you
to try and help them?

Well, Aunt Lucy,
it's been less than two years.

I... I can't really be sure of myself
unless I don't get re-involved.

So I don't have any friends -
except new ones.

You're the newest.

You saved yourself, of course.

Well, with the help of a psychiatrist,
a doctor and a...

what, two of the beefiest male nurses
in the business.

- Poor Tim.
- No, not poor Tim at all.

I've made a lot of money out of the book
and I've made a new friend.

I'm feeling very rich.

Rich enough to help those like you?

The ones who are starting afresh?

Later, perhaps.

Then would you trust me enough
to help them for you?

I mean, if I were to help them,
there'd be no temptation.

- I'd only be involved, not re-involved.
-(BELL TOLLING)

You're a very good, very kind person.

Perhaps I should be writing
a book about you?

I must go to Mass.

Are we, er... are we still
going to have lunch in Pompeii?

Of course, there's such a lot
I want you to see.

Okay. See you then. Take care.

-(BELL CONTINUES TOLLING)
-(CHILDREN CHATTERING IN ITALIAN)

- This is the Macellum.
-(EXCITED GASPS)

...which is a marketplace.

Where they sold flesh...

- Does he mean meat, Miss Bristow?
- Let's hope so, Georgina.

Meat and fish.

- When Vesuvio exploded in...?
-79 AD.

- Yeah, exploded in 79 AD.
-(BUZZING FLIES)

The piscina, which is a small little pool,
has been full of lava.

(LOUD BUZZING)

During the excavations,

we cleaned the piscina,
and we find in the lava, fishbones.

(WOMEN LAUGHING)

Yeah!

Although the shops are very small,

the portico, which once go
all around the Macellum,

is been made of best
white marble from Carrara.

Very big and impressioning.
Like sex on Fifth Avenue.

Ah, he means
Saks Fifth Avenue, Georgina,

which is like Harrods,
only in New York.

It you like to try a look over here.

You can see all the original shops.

(INAUDIBLE CHATTERING)

(HORRIFIED SCREAM)

(CROWD CHATTERING)

CARABINIERI: Dov'è va?
Dov'è va? Fermatelo!

La conosce?

- La conosce?
- Si.

Portare via cadavere.
Via, via tutti! Via!

- Che cos'è successo?
- Hanno strangolata.

- Eh?
- L'hanno strangolata.

Venga con me.
Devi fare una dichiarazione.

- Un momento.
- No! Venga con me!

Venga con me, per cortesia.
C'è una donna che ha assistito.

Via! Via tutti! Via! Via!

Invia queste persone.
Avete finito tutto. Via!

(SOBBING)

What's the matter with her?

She's found her.
La signora.

Vieni qui, perpiacere.

(HORSES' HOOVES)

-(TOLLING BELL)
- Absolve, quaesumus, Domine, animam

ut defunctus saeculo tibi vivat

et quae per fragilitatem carnis
humana conversatione commisit

tu venia misericordissimae
pietatis absterge per Dominis nostrum.

Amen.

I must thank you for making all
these arrangements, Signor Bardoni.

- If you're out of pocket at all...
- The hotel bill was paid in advance.

Your aunt always paid in advance.

What about her belongings, then?

They will be forwarded to her secretary,
Mrs Gray, who is also her executor.

I cabled for instructions to your
aunt's hotel at Burlington-on-Sea.

Burlington-on-Sea...
The Esplanade, yes?

The Esplanade, Mr Brett.
Mrs Gray lives there, too.

I hope you don't think
I was taking a liberty,

But I've known your aunt
for nearly thirty years.

She was a remarkable woman.

Yes, I was beginning
to think so myself.

In fact, almost the last thing
I said to her was, er...

"Let me write a book about you."

It'd make a wholesome change
from my last.

A criminal kills a charitable old lady
who spent her life helping criminals.

It's ironical, isn't it?

It's a matter for the police.

Well, the one who took my statement

I think asked me three questions,
and yawned in my face.

Come back to the hotel, Mr Brett.

No, I think I'll stay here
for a bit, thank you.

BARDONI:
Mr Brett?

JULIET:
What are you doing now?

- I'm thinking, love.
- Well, you're ruining your watch.

Oh.

Damn the Italian police!

A whole bloody week
and they got nowhere.

You see, if she'd been robbed,
I could understand it.

But there is just no reason.
There is no reason.

That's a very pretty mat
you're making.

It's for a church sale.

Yes, she told me she was
very interested in charities.

We were both interested
in helping the fallen.

Tell me, did she ever mention
or did she ever know a group,

or a society called
The Stepping Stones?

I've seen the Rolling Stones
on television, of course.

They don't seem to need helping.

But Stepping Stones, no.
I don't recollect it.

Well, they sent flowers
to her funeral.

Really?

The only other flowers,
apart from Signor Bardoni's and mine.

There was also a card,
which said, er...

"In memories of happier times".

Mrs Dawson's happiest times

were always spent in
the exercise of good works.

Well, she should have
reaped a better reward.

We must, in charity,
assume that her assassin

didn't know what sort
of woman he was killing.

I'm not so sure.

I beg your pardon?

When I made my statement
to the Italian police,

they asked me a question.

And what was that, Mr Brett?

Well, they found this map
of Pompeii in her handbag.

It was folded between the
pages of her prayer book.

Her missal.

Her missal.

On it there was a cross,
very very lightly pencilled in

on exactly the spot
where she was killed.

Now I had already planned to meet her
elsewhere in a restaurant,

so she obviously knew
where she was going,

and she certainly did not go to mass.

Did you tell Signor Bardoni?

No. Should I have?

WOMAN:
Mrs Gray?

Oh. Yes?

It's the Major
calling you from London.

Oh. Forgive me, Mr Brett.

I'm sorry if your journey's
proved pointless.

(SOFT CLOCK CHIMES)

Is there anything else
I can do for you, Mr Brett?

- You're Miss...?
- Ward-Cadbury.

Well, are there any other friends
of my aunt's in the hotel

that it would be right for me to meet?

Well, she was fond of Miss Dacey.

Well, can I see her?

Oh, I'm afraid she's still
having her nap.

Well, when does she wake up?

She usually has her tea
in the television room,

if you don't mind waiting.

No, gladly. Thank you.

You waiting for someone?

Miss Dacey, yes.

She won't be here till the Western.

I'm, er, Lucy Dawson's nephew.
That's why I'm here.

Ah, poor soul.
At least she was quick.

Quicker than arthritis.

Why the dickens do you
want to see Miss Dacey?

Well, Miss Ward-Cadbury told me that
they were very close friends.

They were about as close
as London and Hong Kong.

Oh, they acknowledged each other's
existence quite affably, of course,

but they had nothing in common.

Have you seen Mrs Gray?

Yes.

Ah, now she was a friend.

Looked after Lucy Dawson like a
civil servant looks after his minister.

TIM:
Were you friends with Mrs Dawson?

MR VELLACOT:
Of course I was.

She was a damn nice woman.

The only lively body
in this overheated crematorium.

Yes, I would have had
an affair with her,

if my legs had been in better shape.
Oh, no offence.

None taken.

Would you care for a small cigar?

Ah, fortunately, I've managed to
give them up, so I won't.

I have one a day,
and two on Sundays.

I'll follow your good example
until after supper.

Er... you wouldn't care to give me
a wheel in the fresh air?

Certainly.

Yes, he was an army man.

He was killed just three months
after he and Lucy were married.

- That was during the war, was it?
- No, no, no, no, no.

You're probably too young to remember.
There wasn't a war then.

No, he was killed by a burglar.

You mean he was murdered, too?

Yes, God works in
a mysterious way, doesn't he?

If Lucy's husband hadn't disturbed
that burglar and got himself shot,

she would never have started taking
an interest in the criminal classes.

And thirty or forty young delinquents

who've managed to make their way
in the world, thanks to her,

wouldn't be blessing her name today.

Care to stay for a spot of dinner?

I'm uncommonly grateful.

Well, I'd love to, but unfortunately
the Sunday trains won't let me.

I think the last one goes
at 7:10 to London.

Ah. I'm nothing but an old box.

Ah, nonsense. I hope we meet again.

You may have to hurry.

-(THUNDER)
-(TRAIN SOUNDS)

(HOWLING GALE OUTSIDE)

I'm a Roman Catholic. Are you?

No.

Well, it's just that...

I'm terribly sorry,
but I can't stop crying.

I've lost a very great friend.

Here we are. Were.
Together at Frinton.

She looks very strong.

The friend I left was older than me,

and the friend I live with is young.

The young don't understand.

What does she do?

She's a typist in Whitehall.

And you?

Well, I keep the flat nice for her,
run errands and things.

I'd like to do more,
but I have a heart condition.

My friend, who died, left me
fifty pounds in Premium Bonds.

Now that shows she still cared,
don't you think?

Yes.

She left me a barometer too,
but I never got it.

The family made a fuss.

Well, if you'll excuse me,
I must rush.

It's been so nice talking to you.

You've been a help to me,

and here's something
that may be a help to you.

I pray it will. I really do.

No, don't read it here.
Wait until you get home.

Read it at peace.

Thank you very much.

Hello? Hi.

How's that prospective
uncle-in-law of mine's leg?

Well, tell him not to keep
taking the bandages off

and showing it to everybody
like a Levantine beggar.

Tell him it'll drop off.

Do you think you can get away
from him tomorrow night?

Lovely.

Yeah, I can do with
seeing a young face.

I've been stuck with
two old squares all day long.

No, not really.

I learnt that her husband
was killed by a burglar

about three months
after they were married.

It seems to run in the family,
doesn't it?

I also met a pathetic old dyke
with a face like a bun on the train.

She gave me a religious tract.

Possibly. What?

Well, I'll tell you.

What?

No, it's...

Listen to this, will you?

"Investigations into the background
and death of Mrs Dawson

"are a matter for the
Italian police and nobody else.

"Investigations by other persons

"can only be regarded
as unwarrantable intrusions.

"It is hoped and believed
that you will appreciate this."

No.

I've never seen her before.

Oh, I shouldn't think so.
She was about as harmless as a...

as a newborn lamb.

She must have been used as a courier,
I suppose, by somebody.

Hotel, maybe.

Well, what am I going to do?
I'm going to find out all there is

to bloody well find out
about Aunt Lucy's death. Yes.

No, of course not. I shall
do what Doctor Watson said.

I shall bring the criminal to book.

No, I'm all right, I promise you.

Look, you come
round here tomorrow,

and I'll book a table
at the Tratt or somewhere.

Okay? All right love, take care.

TIM'S VOICE: Did he want to conceal
the existence of the Stepping Stones,

or did he want to test the extent
of my curiosity about Aunt Lucy,

by dropping the card as bait, and
seeing whether or not I'd pursue it?

I did pursue it and, um...

tomorrow, I propose to pursue it further
by visiting the Esplanade Hotel.

(RECORDED LAUGHTER)

(THE LAUGHTER IS ON THE TAPE)

(LAUGHTER INTENSIFIES
BEFORE BEING CUT OFF)

TIM'S VOICE: And tomorrow,
I propose to pursue it further

by visiting the Esplanade Hotel.

(RECORDED LAUGHTER)

(LAUGHTER INTENSIFIES)

(TIM STOPS PLAYBACK)

(POLICE SIREN OUTSIDE)

(BABY CRYING OUTSIDE)

(BABY CRYING INTENSIFIES)

(MORE BABIES START CRYING)

(MYSTERIOUS SOUND,
LIKE A DOOR OPENING)

(ANOTHER SOUND)

(DRIPPING SOUND)

(RETCHING)

(MILK BOTTLES CLINKING)

(PIGEON COOING)

Oh, it's you again,
you little blighter.

Come on then, Columbus.
Come on. Tch-tch-tch-tch.

Come on, come on.
I've got some food for you somewhere.

Look!
Look what I've got you. See?

- Come on.
-(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Hello, Juliet?

(MAN LAUGHING)

Feeding the pigeons, Mr Brett?

You've shut the window.

Who is this?

I take it you got
my letter last night.

What letter?

The one delivered by hand.

Oh, yes?

Yes.

Look, I don't know or care
who you are,

but I'd be very grateful if you'd stop
your bloody stupid childish tricks.

Now, listen to me.

I've no intention of
listening to anybody.

(HANGS UP)

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

I should listen if I were you.

What do you want?

Nothing.

Nothing as regards Lucy Dawson,
from you or by you.

All right, who are you?

I am seven.
Like the devils in the Bible.

Or seventeen, or seventy,
or seven hundred.

Anything you choose, really,
and you are only one.

Yes, well, if all seven hundred
of you will excuse me,

I'll go and shave now,
and then go on down to the police.

It was nice talking to you.
Remember me to Juliet.

(DIALLING TONE)

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Sergeant Matthews, sir.
Kensington Police.

You saved me a telephone call.

- Um, will you come in?
- Your milk, sir.

If you don't mind
talking in the kitchen,

I'm just making some breakfast.
I'll give you a cup of tea if you like.

No, thank you, sir.
I've just had mine.

- Sorry, would you like to sit down?
- Thank you, sir.

I take it you're not
altogether surprised then, sir.

No, I'm not.
I was away all day yesterday,

and when I got back last night,

there was evidence that someone
had broken into the flat.

Nothing was actually stolen,
but it's a very complicated story,

so I thought I'd phone the police.
I had a couple of calls this morning...

We will get to that later, sir.
That's not exactly the reason for my visit.

You are Mr Timothy Brett, sir?

Yes.

And did you travel
on the 7:10 train last night

from Burlington to Victoria Station?

Yes, I did. Yes.

And did you have in your compartment

a female between the ages
of forty and fifty

wearing a camel sweater,
a brown jacket and a tweed skirt?

Oh, God, she's not gone and
done herself in or anything, has she?

Yes, I did see her, yes.

At about 11:15 last night, sir,

a person answering the above description
called at the police station

and laid a complaint against a person
of your name, and of this address,

alleging that you made improper
and indecent suggestions to her.

She declined to give
her own name and address, sir,

or make a formal statement.

I have to inform you that in the circumstances,
and failing further evidence,

it is not the intention of the police
to take any further action.

It is felt that you should nevertheless
be informed of this matter,

and if you wish to make a statement,
I am authorised to take it down.

(KETTLE WHISTLES)

It's a bit difficult to know
what to say.

- You sure you don't want a cup?
- No, thanks.

Did you actually
see the woman yourself?

No. I did get a report of her manner
from the desk sergeant, sir.

Don't take it too seriously.

They get hallucinations
at certain times of life.

Dentists suffer from similar accusations
sometimes when they give anaesthetics.

I take it you don't want
to give a statement, sir?

Just a plain oral denial?

No, no. I don't.

Oh, now wait a minute,
I do want to make a statement.

You don't need to, sir,

in view of the present police intentions
that I've already informed you.

Oh no, er... believe me,
it's not as simple as that.

This, er... bun-faced woman that says I offered
to rape her on the train or whatever.

Well, there's something
very odd about it all.

There's something
very difficult to understand.

Well, as I say, sir, we get
these cases from time to time.

If she becomes persistent
or makes a nuisance of herself,

you want to get a
court injunction against her.

No, no, wait a minute.

Before we parted at Victoria Station,
she gave me a note in an envelope.

That's a very... it's... it's...

I just would like you to have a look at it.
It's very complicated. Would you...?

You don't want to go
giving your name and address

to strange women
you meet on trains, sir.

Unless, of course,
your intentions are...

No, I didn't give her my address.
That's just one of the extraordinary things.

That's one of the others.
I'd like you to read it.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Hello?

Oh, hello, Mr Bristow.

Stanley, all right.

Yes, yes, I've spoken to her.
She's going to see me this evening.

Oh, all right. Yes, well, look,

if I promise to get her home
by midnight, then she can, er...

change your dressing
or tuck you up, or whatever.

Purulent, yes,
it sounds very distressing.

I know, I know.
I know I've seen it, yes.

What?

No, I don't think
that will be a problem.

There's an all night chemist in town.
We'll get it for you.

I'll tell her when she gets in.

Er... Disprin, yes.
No, I can spell it.

Okay, Mr Bristow, bye-bye.

It's my fiancée's uncle.
He's got an ulcerated leg.

As you said, sir.
Very distressing.

Now, this note you've shown me, sir.

The one you said
the bun-faced woman gave you.

I've been looking at the type, sir.

I also happened to glance at the type
on this unfinished copy you left on the desk.

And the typing paper.

Yes, they're exactly the same.
That's why I made the copy.

So is the typing paper, and, er...

...so are the envelopes.
That's what I wanted to tell you.

Look at that.

Well, what did you want
to tell me, sir?

Well, the fact that
the woman gave, er,

me a letter which was typed
on my own typewriter,

on my own typing paper,

and put into one
of my own envelopes.

Now, this note that you typed?

Well, er...
I didn't type this.

I don't quite understand.
I didn't type it myself.

You didn't tell me that when you
gave it to me to read, sir.

No, I was about to tell you, but
the telephone rang. I mean, it's...

To be honest, sir, I don't understand
what you're getting at.

- Well, look. I was given a note...
- Are you suggesting that this woman,

who complained about you,

somehow got hold of
your name and address,

broke into this flat,

typed this stuff out
on your typewriter,

took it down to
the seaside with her,

came back on the train with you,

gave it to you
when you got to Victoria,

and then came and complained
about you at the police station.

Is that what you're suggesting, sir?

Well, not all of it, no.

Well, then which of it, Mr Brett?

Well, first of all, I don't think she was
the person that broke into my flat.

Well, who was it, then?

Well, perhaps you should
ask the person

who put the laugh
on my tape recorder.

Laugh on your tape recorder, sir?

Yes, it's a kind of...
(LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY)

Listen.

RECORDING:
...the Esplanade Hotel.

(RECORDED LAUGHTER)

-(RECORDING CUT OFF)
- See what I mean?

Was that you laughing, sir?

Of course not.
I don't laugh like that.

But you just did, sir.

Look, if you think
I invented this entire thing,

perhaps you'd like
to tell me what for?

- There's no call to get annoyed, sir.
- I'm not getting annoyed.

You raised this matter, I didn't.

I raised it because I have evidence
that someone has broken into my apartment.

Now, if that isn't a matter for the police,
perhaps you'd be good enough to tell me what is.

Do you want it reported, sir?

You're damn right I want it reported.
I... I am Lucy Dawson's nephew.

Ah.

Well, in that case,
you won't mind

if I take what you call the evidence
down to the station, sir.

No, sure.

Are there any other
key holders to the flat, sir?

Yes, there's, er... Mrs Baird,

she's the woman who cleans for me,
but she doesn't come on Sundays.

And there's Juliet, but she
spent the entire Sabbath

looking after her
uncle's purulent leg.

I'll give you a receipt
for these, sir.

Doubtless if the CID want any further
information, they'll phone you, sir.

This is all the evidence, is it, sir?

Yes. There was a cigarette in the loo,
a black one with a gold tip.

Whose?

I don't know.
I don't smoke, that's the point.

You kept the stub, of course.

No, as a matter of fact,
I flushed it down the... the thing.

Why?

Because I was sick all over it.

Do you mean you vomited, sir?

I was scared.

Silly, isn't it?

(PHONE RINGING)

Hello?

Hello!

(FRONT DOOR CLOSING)

(FOOTSTEPS)

What are you doing in the dark?

Don't do that!
Don't do that.

I think, we're...
I think we're being watched.

Then draw the curtains.

I don't want them to know
that I mind being watched.

- Who?
- I don't know.

I don't know. I had a visit
from the police this morning.

Bun-face woman went to them
last night after she left me at Victoria

and told them that
I tried to rape her on the train.

Did you?

She'd be more likely to rape you.

What have you done about her letter?

What do you mean?

Did you tell the police about it?

Of course I told them about it.

What did they say?

I don't know.
What could they say?

They probably think
I'm an absolute raving nut.

He's as thick as two short planks,
the sergeant who spoke to me.

I had two telephone calls
this morning,

both of them told me to
sort of lay off.

Told you to?

Go on.

Oh, nothing.
It was just some crank or other.

I am being watched, though.

Did you hear me?
Being watched.

Put your shirt on, Tim.

Make love to me.

I am.

You know what I mean.

I mean, after all, if they want
something to look at,

we might as well give them
something, mightn't we?

Not for the wrong reasons.

Dear oh dear, Miss Priss.

I love you.

What you thinking?

I was thinking of
Uncle Stanley's purulent leg.

He called me today.

You know he loves
showing it off, right?

Well he, er...
he asked me if I'd seen it,

and I said yes, 'cause otherwise I thought
he'd come round and show it to me.

I promised to get him
some Disprin anyway.

GUARD:
Mind the doors!

Got any grass, Timmy?

Now come on, fellas, get lost.

Yes, madam?

I'd like some Disprin, please.

Hey, Timmy!

Hello, Joe.

Aren't you in the wrong
late night line-up?

You sure you're going to be all right?

Oh, yes. They say the true test
in the cure of an alcoholic

is going back to your old pub
and buying a Coke.

We've bought Disprins. I'm all right.

Fourteen Ennismore Gardens.

I had to make peace with myself.

If there was anything in the envelope
to upset you, I'm sorry.

It wasn't only
what was in the envelope.

It was also the fact that you made
a complaint about me to the police.

Police?

You told them I'd made indecent
suggestions to you on the train.

Now, I'm not coming out of here

until you promise not to take your clothes off
and start screaming the place down.

Who gave you that envelope?

We were never used like this before.

Who's we?

The Stepping Stones.

Who are you?

No.

Who are the Stepping Stones?

I only came here
to make my peace with you.

I've taken up my religion again.

Well, then you can start by being
a good Christian and telling me the truth.

I don't know what the truth is.

Ask Mr Copsey.

He's the Probation Officer.

He's retired now.

In Addison Road.

Have you forgiven me, Mr Brett?

Yes.

Then, may I pass?

I think we must have been taken over.

(GRILLE RATTLING)

MAN:
That's a worm, Kenny.

I know.

Well, put it back where you found it.

I found it in the salad.

Run away, run away.
(CHUCKLING)

Hardly the moment to ask whether
you'd care to stay to lunch.

That's very kind of you.
I have to go and pick up a licence.

A special licence.
I'm getting married.

Congratulations.

In any case, I don't want
to waste your time.

You can't very well waste
a retired man's time, Mr Brett.

- Where and when?
- What?

The happy ceremony.

Oh, we're at St Barthrop's
in the Cromwell Road,

about midday on Saturday.

Saturday. That's the day Kenny's paying
his first visit to the reptile house.

You know, he's never seen
a wedding either.

I wonder whether we might come?
Do you think we might?

I'd be absolutely delighted.

Thank you. I think your Aunt Lucy
would have liked that.

You know, it's very pleasant to have
a little personal chat about her at last

I mean, with a relative, of course.

Would you like to sit down?

Naturally the police
were only interested in facts.

I'll tell you what appealed to me as
a Probation Officer were her motives.

Grandad.
Do worms have hearts?

Do worms have...? Of course.
I don't know. Well, I suppose so.

Every animal has a heart, hasn't it?

Oh, I should think so, yes.

- Yes, yes.
- Do gnats?

Do gnats? Do you mind taking the worm
back to the vegetable garden?

And then run and find your mother?
Where was I?

You were talking about her motives.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

Well, what brought us together in the first place
was the young burglar who shot her husband.

One of my charges, I'm afraid.
Not a very successful one.

She came to me with a load of
burning hatred for the lad,

indeed, the entire criminal class.

A hatred which she
very sensibly wished to exorcise

by trying to understand them.

After all, the poor woman adored
her husband, this side of idolatry.

It was about that moment,
I would say,

that the Stepping Stones were born.

Who were the Stepping Stones,
Mr Copsey?

Oh, they were to be a sort of
living memorial to Major Dawson.

Only the two of us, to begin with.

She asked me to keep my eye open
for intelligent young first offenders

who might make careers for
themselves when they came out.

Then she began to cast her
charitable net a little wider.

I introduced her to
a couple of prison governors,

They put her in touch with others.

Women's prisons, too.

It must have been very difficult
to find them jobs.

Oh yes, especially the
high grade types Lucy was after.

Those who could get
to the top of the tree.

The trouble is, there are
some trees that ex-jailbirds

aren't even allowed to start climbing.

Banks are a bit tricky, naturally,

but Lucy was a remarkable woman.

Well, what kind of people were they?

Well, I couldn't mention
their names, of course.

It would be a breach
of trust, but, er...

They did well in their field.
Some very well.

Hah. Lucky we were honest.

Lucy, Mrs Gray, and myself.

Would seem to me like a
perfect opportunity for blackmail.

Precisely.

You don't understand
what I'm trying to tell you.

I do not subscribe
to the Evening Standard.

I buy it, yes.
But I don't subscribe to it.

I don't have it delivered.

So it was put through my letter box

by somebody who
wanted to draw my attention...

Mr Brett, we aren't investigating
the death of Mrs Dawson.

We are investigating
the death of an unknown woman

whom you were the
last person to see alive.

Yes, I understand that.
But don't you realise they're connected?

It all ties in with the report
that I gave to Sergeant Matthews.

The note that was typed
on my own typewriter.

The complaint that she made.

The laugh on the tape recorder,

and the voices on the telephone,
and the cigarette stubs.

And the fact that she was killed
immediately after I saw her.

And now the newspaper.

I mean, it's all part of
my persecution

by somebody who doesn't want me
to get more interested.

Persecution?

Well, I mean,
there is evidence, isn't there?

I mean, there is the tape,
and there is the letter.

Is that Sergeant Matthews' report?

Mr Brett, may we get
our priorities right?

Any connection between your...

Persecution.

Between your persecution in the matter
of the late Lucy Etheldreda Dawson,

and the death of this unknown woman

will be assessed by Scotland Yard when they
receive our report on last night's incident.

So, may we confine ourselves
to that incident?

- If you say so.
- He does say so.

Now, what we want is information
that will help us to identify the deceased.

You've already told us that she's
a Roman Catholic, probably lapsed.

You suspect her of affecting
female company rather than male.

She had an older friend who died,

and a younger friend
who was a typist in Whitehall.

That's a wide field.

Now, is there anything you can add
to that information?

No.

Mr Brett, you were the last
known person to see the deceased.

He was also the last known
person to see Mrs Dawson.

His lady friends seem
kind of accident prone.

Well, for God's sake, if you're going to say
that I murdered the pair of them...

Nobody is saying
anything about murder, Mr Brett.

Now please sit down.
Don't over-excite yourself.

The deceased wasn't murdered.
She died of a heart attack.

She was frightened by something.
Or someone.

She did, er... she did say that
she suffered from a heart condition.

Why didn't you tell us that?

I've just thought of it.

All right, I just remembered it.
Better?

Here.

That cigarette stub in your toilet.

I thought you said
you'd given up smoking?

I've just started again.

You still carry a lighter.

For God's sake, yes.
My fiancée smokes,

so do a great number of my friends.

I know. I've read your book.

You must forgive
the sergeant, Mr Brett.

He's tired, like all of us.

What he means is that
we must try and set a value

on the evidence you've given us.

What he means is
that I'm a hallucinating ex-junkie

who dreamed the whole thing up.

Ex-junkie?

Mr Brett, can we have
your assurance on oath,

that you've not gone back
to your old...?

Yes, yes, you can.

That's why I'm getting
married on Saturday,

unless you're going to lock me up.

There's no question of
locking you up, Mr Brett.

There's nothing to lock you up for.

What we want to hear
is what you know.

Not what you imagine.

I know what I know.

I made my report to Sergeant Matthews.

I came down here
to help you out voluntarily.

All you've done is go on and on at me.

Now look, I promise you, I have not
taken drugs for more than a year now,

therefore I cannot possibly
be hallucinating, can I?

There are two reasons, Mr Brett.

One, we cannot find
any trace of any woman

having lodged a complaint
against you at this station,

or indeed in any other station
in the Metropolitan area.

Well, then your bloody filing system
is a bloody shambles.

Look, Sergeant Matthews read me
that report yesterday morning.

He was issued the report
by the desk sergeant

who was on duty when the woman
made the complaint the night before.

Now, if some of your
fat-arsed, flat-footed coppers

have flushed it down the loo,
or lost it, don't blame me for it,

go and ask the bloody desk sergeant,
or Sergeant Matthews.

That may not be as easy
as you seem to imagine, Mr Brett.

We have nobody here
called Sergeant Matthews.

About those people
who are persecuting you.

The ones whose voices you hear
over the telephone,

or type messages to you
on your own typewriter,

and leave cigarettes in your toilet.

Well, I think it might be a good idea
to see a doctor, sir.

Especially as you're getting married.

(CHATTERING)

Blackmail. That charitable old lady
turned out to be my bloody aunt.

My bloody aunt and Mrs Gray
used Mr Copsey.

And my bloody aunt threw a lifeline
to every poor drowning first offender.

The intelligent ones, of course.
The ones that were worth saving, right?

The ones that she thought
would make it in the long term.

She threw a lifeline and hauled them
graciously to shore,

gave them the kiss of life,
and mothered them maybe for years.

Until, eventually, they managed
to stay on their own two feet.

And when they walked far enough,

when they managed
to make enough money,

when they were good and rich
and couldn't afford to be nailed as jailbirds,

because they were manager of this,
or they were the chairman of that,

or the governor of something else,

then she'd give the lifeline
a little bit of a tug.

And then, they'd come as the...
you know,

and pay the bill.

And even in Sorrento, she asked me for
the names of my former associates.

The reformed ones,
the ones that might make good,

so that she could
add them to her list.

This is as cold as Kenny's worm.
Nino!

JULIET:
I wish you'd eat more.

TIM:
I can't eat more.

A policeman came to see me today.

Superintendent from the CID.

Oh, did he?

I suppose he told you
that he thought

that I needed
to see a doctor, right?

Yes.

Nino?

Fill that, will you?

Look, if I'd gone back on mescalin
or I'd gone back on acid,

or any of the other things,

I wouldn't still be subject
to those kinds of hallucinations.

I wouldn't see cigarette butts,
typewritten notes in buff envelopes,

and the voices that I hear
wouldn't be lucid. I mean, the...

They didn't say it was drugs, darling.

They said that they thought
you were overwrought.

That perhaps the shock
of your aunt's murder had

set you into some sort
of an obsession,

and that because you hadn't fully recovered
in your mind or your body from...

From what?

From your past.

Tim, please drop it.

For my sake.

Look, either I am mad and all this
isn't happening to me,

or else I am sane and it is.

Either way, if I pack it in now,
I won't know,

and you won't know whether
you've married a raving lunatic

who's going to give you
lunatic babies.

I mean, it's on the cards, isn't it?

If there's any chance of us
getting married at all.

No. No, it's not.
Not if you go and see a doctor.

Oh, doctor,
thank you very much indeed.

"Good morning, Mr Brett,
you're a little overwrought.

"There's a lot of that about
these days.

"Why don't you take two Disprin and a
cup of Bournvita when you go to bed

"and then if you, perhaps,
don't feel too well in the morning,

"go back on the needle,
go back on the hard stuff.

"There's a lot of that about, too."

Please stop it.

I'm afraid I can't stop it.

You'll never find them.

All right then, they'll have
to find me then, won't they?

And so will you.

Disgusting.

Hey, Timmy!

Come up on my side.
It's legal.

As prescribed by the National Health.

(INAUDIBLE DIALOGUE)

(CAR ENGINE STARTING)

(TICKING IN DIFFERENT RHYTHMS)

(GRUNTING)

(MUFFLED SHOUTING)

(GROANING)

(TYRES SQUEALING)

(RUNNING WATER)

(PHONE RINGING)

Yes?

MAN'S VOICE:
The answer is no.

No to any further single step
you may take

in your childish and obstinate
pursuit of the Dawson case.

You already have the death of one poor
unidentified woman on your conscience.

You killed her.

All seven hundred of you.

We don't like killing people,
Mr Brett.

Killing interests the police,

and we prefer to arrange for the police
to be as uninterested in our activities

as they appear to be in yours.

The poor woman died of a heart attack.

Anyway, I don't suppose she meant
as much to you as your fiancée.

What about my fiancée?

Get her to wear her glasses
at the wedding on Saturday.

Why?

For her own good.
And for yours.

That is, if you still love her after.

After what?

After she has, shall we say,
earned a bad mark.

A mark of our displeasure.

Make her wear her glasses, Mr Brett.

- Thank you.
-(PHONE HANGS UP)

Juliet?

Juliet?

I thought you were dead.

I took one of your sleeping pills.

What happened?

Nothing.

I'm sorry.

Sssshh, it's okay.

All right.
Go on, get some sleep.

Are you going to wear
your glasses at the wedding?

Mmm?

I said I want you to wear
your glasses at the wedding.

Oh, I know what you look like.

I know what you look like, too.

I just want you to wear them.

Okay.

Promise?

Mmm.

(COOING)

Good morning, Columbus.

JULIET:
Your geranium's dying.

TIM:
Because you water it too much.

What happened at the restaurant
last night after I left?

Nothing.

The man at the table next to us
got up and walked out.

Why?

He said "disgusting",
got up, and left.

- And left?
- Mmm-hmm.

Is a Mr Nugent, signor Tim.

He come three, four times
and ask to open an account.

Do you know his address, Nino?

It is care of the Home Office, Whitehall.
I hope he comes back.

Yes, I want to apologise to him, too.

I must say that's very civil.
Very civil indeed.

But really, I ought to be
apologising to you.

Who are you?

May I put it this way?

My department, which has accommodation
here for liaison with the Home Office,

received a report on your interrogation from
Special Branch via the Kensington Police.

To be quite frank with you, Mr Brett,

the police don't believe in
your illusions of persecution.

I don't think my fiancée
believes in them either.

But the superintendent
was careful to point out

that the illusions were at least
consistent enough

not to have been
experienced by a,

if you'll forgive me,
a totally irrational madman.

I mean, you didn't say that
you were being followed

by Napoleon one minute
and Boris Karloff the next.

There was a rational pattern.

Your experiences
could have been credible,

if the evidence for them all
hadn't been... well, intangible.

Except for this.

We've had it analysed, of course.

They found nothing in it
but muck from the drain.

I got a bit mucky myself,
retrieving the bits.

I didn't see you.

If you'd seen me, Mr Brett,
so would they.

We're after bigger fish.
I had to wait.

I must say, it's lucky we met.

Oh, luck had nothing
to do with it, Mr Brett.

Your very civil apology
merely precipitated a meeting

that I'd already been
instructed to arrange.

Do you mind if I telephone
my superior?

No. No, not at all.

Major Reckitt set a luncheon date.

Let's see if he can't
squeeze you in before then.

Quite confidentially, keeping people
under surveillance in a restaurant

is a bloody awful job.

You mustn't arrive
at the same time as they do,

but you have to finish your meal
by the time they finish theirs.

If they go after
the coffee and brandy,

it looks a bit conspicuous if you
call for the bill after the soup.

I wasn't really put off
by your behaviour last night.

It's just that pretending to be angry
gave me a good cover for leaving.

If that's of any comfort to you.

Thank you.

(TRIO PLAYING
TOSSELLI'S "SERENADE")

(CHATTERING)

Tosselli's "Serenade".
Usually followed by "Mon Bijou".

I know the whole
damned repertoire,

from a reduction of the
"William Tell Overture",

to a dreadful thing called
"Tirroulirouli" by Scotto.

- I've never heard of Scotto.
- Don't, especially his "Tirroulirouli".

You know, of course,
that some foreign governments

use blackmail
for espionage purposes?

That blackmail is an aid
to spy recruitment?

Well, you don't think that
Lucy Dawson was a spy?

Oh, good heavens, no.

Well, what do you think,
Major Ricketts?

I believe your theory
about Mrs Dawson.

The one Nugent heard you
bawling to your fiancée.

- Do you?
- Up to a point.

- Up to what point?
- Ah, there you are. "Mon Bijou".

Up to what point, Major Ricketts?

Up to the point that she had a
blackmail list as long as your arm.

Up to the point that,
after her husband's death,

she was obsessed with the idea of
hitting back at the criminal classes.

But when it came,
as my department believes it did,

to hitting at her own country,

when attempts were made
to bribe or threaten her

into handing over a complete list of her
blackmail victims to a bunch of foreigners,

she said no.
"Over my dead body."

Hence, her dead body.

Well, I mean,
where did I come into all this?

Well, I think you're in
a very delicate position, Mr Brett.

And I think these
incidents were laid on,

so that if you
discovered anything awkward,

neither the police nor anyone else
would take you seriously.

Your reputation would be that
of a mentally unstable person.

Thank you.

They certainly succeeded there,
didn't they?

Hmm.

Thank you, my dear.

Thank you, sir.

But surely, it would have been
simpler to have killed me? I mean...

Simpler, perhaps.
Safer, no.

These people don't kill much,
not if they can avoid it.

But they will if they must.

That's the view
of my department, anyway.

So if you'd like to
fade gracefully from the case,

for your own self-protection...

Well, I mean,
I don't want to do that,

not just as long
as I can be of some help.

Well, it's hard to see how.

Well, I mean, I've brought them
out into the open once.

Surely I can do it again?
I mean...

And to hell with the consequences?

Well, if you can protect us
at the church,

-there wouldn't be any consequences.
- Ah, I was hoping it would be you

who suggested that.
Yes, of course we can protect you,

both inside and outside the church.

Provided that, until then,
you protect yourself.

How?

By genuinely taking no further
active interest in the Dawson case.

No contact of any sort with the police,
except through us, through Nugent.

And then only in an emergency
and not on your own phone.

Have you told your fiancée
about the threat to her person?

No, I mean...
I didn't want to scare her.

Then don't.
She'll be in no danger now.

I'm the one who's in danger.

Why are you?

I have to lunch with a prissy old nit
from the Foreign Office,

who's being a lot less
cooperative than you are.

I shall be in danger
of losing my temper.

Well, I'll continue to cooperate
by not keeping you.

Thank you, Major Ricketts.

Good luck, Mr Brett.

-(SQUEALING BRAKES)
- Mr Brett!

Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk.

Matthews!

(HORN HONKING)

Hello?
Er... is that Mr Nugent?

Yes, it is.

Oh, thank God. I thought you'd
probably be having your lunch.

I am. Who is it?

Ah, where are you calling from?

Good. Now, tell me.

(LOUD VEHICLE REVVING)

Did you get the car number?

Wait a minute while I find a pencil.

I want to get that down.

Now...
Right, I've got that.

We'll circulate that number,
of course.

But, in the meantime, please
continue to act as instructed.

I don't think that'll
be very difficult.

Bye.

Er, yeah.
Goodbye, Mr Nugent.

Did you get the new hat?

Ooh, yes. Nine bob less
than what you give me for it.

Well, put it on.
I want to see it.

Ooh, not until we're in the church.

Nervous, ain't you?

A bit, yes.

So was Baird.

Good luck, Mr Tim.

Ooh! Gawd help the bride!

Amen to that.

I've left you just a token
in the drawing room with a card.

Thank you, Mrs Baird.

See you in church, eh?

(PHONE RINGING)

- Hello?
-(MANIACAL LAUGHTER)

No, look, listen.
You win.

I don't care if the whole bloody world
thinks I'm mad.

I'll pack it in.
I'll lay off the Lucy Dawson...

This is a recorded announcement.

Your friend,
Major Ricketts, was right.

Lucy Dawson possessed
a private blackmail list,

which is now in our possession,
and could be of use to our cause.

We therefore demand that you
immediately signal your intention

to withdraw from the Dawson case,
once and for all.

Listen carefully, Mr Brett.

Our observers have noted
that you keep a red geranium.

I repeat, a red geranium,
in your sitting room window.

If you place this plant
upon the outer window sill,

where you feed your pigeon,

it will instantly be noted
as a sign of your cooperation

and your wedding ceremony
will proceed without incident.

But the geranium's absence
from the window sill,

or its substitution
by some other object,

will be taken as a sign
that you refuse to cooperate.

In that case,
we can no longer be responsible

for the safety of your future wife,
in church, this morning.

(DIALLING TONE)

(SOLEMN ORGAN MUSIC)

Grandad, can we go
to the zoo now?

What?

Can we go to the zoo now?

No, no, of course not.

Your glasses.

(ORGAN PLAYING
"HERE COMES THE BRIDE")

Put on your glasses.

Put your glasses on.

(LOUDER)
Put your glasses on.

Put your glasses on! Listen!
Listen to me! Listen to me!

There are police in this church.

Mrs Gray, you were not
invited to this wedding.

Now I have reason to believe
that you intend to harm my wife.

Now, on instructions
from Major Ricketts,

I would like you arrested
at this minute.

Major Ricketts?

You are desecrating
God's house, Mr Brett.

Mr Copsey wrote to me
of your marriage

and I came for dear Lucy's sake.

- Tim, no, let go. No. Don't.
- Colonel Ricketts!

Let go. Darling, please.
These are our friends.

Our friends! Are you mad?

Mr Brett, do you wish
to continue with this ceremony?

Dearly beloved, we are gathered
together here, in the sight of God

and in the face of this congregation,

to join together this man
and this woman in holy matrimony,

which is an honourable estate,

instituted of God
in the time of man's innocency,

signifying unto us the mystical union

that is betwixt
Christ and His church.

Which holy estate Christ adorned
and beautified with His presence,

and first miracle that he wrought
in Cana of Galilee,

and is commended of Saint Paul
to be honourable among all men.

And therefore is not by any
to be enterprised

nor taken in hand unadvisedly,
lightly or wantonly,

to satisfy men's
carnal lusts and appetites,

like brute beasts
that have no understanding,

but reverently, discreetly, advisedly,
soberly, and in the fear of God,

duly considering the causes
for which matrimony was ordained.

First, it was ordained
for the procreation of children,

to be brought up in
the fear and nurture of the Lord,

and to the praise of His holy name.

Secondly, it was ordained
for a remedy against sin,

and to avoid fornication,

that such persons as have not
the gift of continency,

might marry and keep themselves
undefiled members of Christ's body.

Put on your glasses.

(BUZZING)

-(GATE SLAMS SHUT)
-(LAUGHTER)

(ECHOING LAUGHTER)

(LAUGHTER GETTING LOUDER)

VICAR: Let him now speak,
or else hereafter, forever hold his peace.

I think I'm going mad.

(RICKETTS LAUGHING)

(VERY SIMILAR LAUGHTER
TO THE EARLIER RECORDING)

TIM:
What's he doing here?

Who?

(PHONE RINGING)

(ECHOING LAUGHTER)

Major Ricketts!

Tim.

(SCREAMING)

TIM'S VOICE:
So I'm safe for the moment.

She's been very kind
and gentle and understanding,

but I must watch her
like I watch everybody.

They think I've given up,
but I haven't given up.

As soon as I can think straight,
I'll draw them out.

They're somewhere.

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