Original subtitles

Yeah?

Here's to Joe Stalin's next stroke.

Tinkety-tong.

Who was he?

Victor.

Paul.

Met him before an air raid.

Forty-one.

It is true.

I switched the glasses.

He drank the poison meant for one of us.

Nafia and Ruhia.

We'd be ever so grateful

if you'd just keep an eye on them.

This was the third attempt on our life since we left New York.

The first thing you must do is arrest a cocktail waiter.

And you must bring in any others on the staff.

You have a reservation?

No, my wife does.

Your wife?

Time for a little chat.

What does Jack know?

My wife and I have an arrangement,

as I knew his late father.

Nothing more.

And should we trust you?

Well, I suppose you'll find out.

When the next assassin comes.

Hello again.

Hello.

Faze.

For them, I presume.

Who is it?

It's me.

Who is it?

It's me.

Who is it?

It's me.

Who is it?

Who is it?

It's me.

Who is it?

Who is it?

Who is it?

Who is it?

Who is it?

Who is it?

It's me.

Hello again.

Hello.

Faze.

For them, I presume.

Who is it?

It's me.

Champagne.

I can put a seat in this car.

We all.

Through here.

We do not order champagne.

Who here?

Oh, my face.

You hit on the head.

Easy.

Easy.

You're right.

One more step.

Well, let's all calm down, should we?

The black mantle of death hovers over us like the London fog.

Sometimes we make mistakes out of fear.

You must forgive us.

Oh, you shouldn't forgive them.

You should press charges.

Don't tell me what to do, okay?

I've had enough of it.

I've simply had enough of it.

We understand, dear.

Do you?

Because I've descended a ship that started with the past and ended with me getting fired.

Fired?

Yeah, I've been handed my cards, haven't I?

What?

Why?

What for?

Because someone sabotaged the boilers, tipped linseed oil into them.

Yeah, but why would they think that that's you?

Because I have a motive.

Mr. Klein gave me a mouthful for standing up to that bastard.

And now I've been shot.

Really shot.

What's that?

Morphing tartrate.

I'm not going to have you jabbing me like a bloody pincushion.

It will ease your pain.

Oh, Liv.

And if you do think that I'm just going to hop on the night bus and say,

Oh, it must be beastly that your country hates your guts and you're forced to slum it out here in the Walsongum.

Well, think again, ladies.

No wonder you're so nervous around the working classes.

You done my lot to be.

I'll have that morphine now.

Ow!

So, dear Rattle, what do you suggest?

I'll stay here tonight in the royal suite.

There are only two beds.

Then I'll have the biggest.

And I'll have breakfast in it.

I think that's a very modest demand considering the bullets in the wall.

I know the importance of the rules of hospitality in your country.

I've been reading up on them.

That's right, Mr. Book.

At home, we are obliged to take in those who need shelter.

During the war, many British officers were parachuted into our territory.

None were betrayed.

I'll sleep on the sofa.

Right.

Now, which one of you is lending me your toothbrush?

I'll get someone to come and have a look at this.

It's good to see you, Jack.

We lost him.

We never really knew him.

Of course, it was impossible to predict how he'd react.

And I was hoping for...

Sympathy.

Understanding.

That's just the way it is with some people.

They get down on a thing when they don't know nothing about it.

Huckleberry Finn?

Top marks.

You can sleep on the left.

I like that, Edie.

She's sharp.

Sharp as her nibs.

The princess.

Busy day tomorrow.

Bliss has arrested Ghazili.

Oh?

It's a mistake.

So I suspect I'll spend the morning showing him why.

Clever clogs.

If the shoe fits.

Oh, it's the Dynaric Alps, by the way.

Eh?

It's the Dynaric Alps, my love.

Not the Carpathians.

As I said.

Clever clogs.

Hm.

Book.

Book.

This way, Mr. Kedilin.

The inspector is ready to see you now.

Finish with that mug, Sergeant.

Bagged and labelled, sir.

We'll return it in due course.

Take a seat.

Are you going to charge me?

Oh, there's plenty of time for that.

I've said it already.

It's in my statement.

Oh.

Just one thing before we start.

Uh, Mr. Book here will be joining us.

He's a specialist.

Mr. Ghazili, it's very important that you use this interview to tell us the truth.

Because if you don't, I can't be held accountable for the consequences.

We know about your affair with Edie Rattle.

She's given us a statement and in doing so has given us a possible motive, a reason for you to kill Captain Hall.

Oh, because he made a pass at Edie Rattle.

Because he made a pass at Edie.

It must happen like three times a day.

What business are you in exactly?

The antiquarian book business.

I've read the Canoon of Scutari.

Have you?

I know it.

Live by it?

It was very important in my village.

Let's start, then.

If I said we were going to give you the third degree, what would you expect?

Kicking out by the bins?

Snake in the grass.

What did you say?

Forget the third degree.

Snake in the grass.

Come on, I'm waiting.

Vodka.

At last.

Creme de menthe, lime juice, lemonade.

Where's my ice?

It went in first.

Are you shaking this drink?

Come on, come on, Mr. Ghazili.

This is the waltzing.

Am I shaking this drink?

I'm stirring it.

I'm stirring it.

At a boy.

At a boy.

I know that.

French vermouth, dry gin, grenadine, four dashes.

Shaken.

And what would you put in a pansy?

Anisette?

No, no, no, Mr. Ghazili.

Look, I'm still on probation.

I'm not an expert.

I'd say you're not.

But nor are you a murderer.

Well, what makes you say that?

Because he left a dirty great fingerprint on the upper part of one of those glasses.

And a good cocktail waiter, as well as knowing how to mix a third degree, always handles a rock glass lower down.

You made the drink for the captain, which is when you left your fingerprint on his glass.

But the drink was not deadly.

I'm sorry if this sounds insulting, Mr. Ghazili.

But you have yet to acquire the skill to poison anyone in a crowded bar in plain sight.

Particularly with just a few seconds between the inciting incident and the crime.

But I'm sure you'll get there.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say you were already a model employee.

You're going to write me a reference now, are you?

Why not?

How long have the princesses been in the hotel?

Four days.

And you'd already noticed they always reject the first drink.

So you made it out of tap water.

Yes.

Some employers would promote a member of staff so concerned about wastage.

Well, Mr. Ghazili, seems like you can go and collect your things.

Our friend here is checking out, Sergeant Morris.

Very good, sir.

Well, now what?

Anyone could have got that hydrochloric acid into the drink.

And Ghazili was too clumsy to have done it.

As I discovered late last night, the Kanoon of Skutari has very strict rules about hospitality.

It's taboo to harm anyone you consider your guest.

Captain Orr was Ghazili's guest, strictly speaking, and the Kanoon is very strict.

Did it tell you anything else useful?

Oh, yes.

Insult my wife in front of the headmen of the village and you owe me a sheep.

If my wife insults you, I owe you five.

Well, I find it's usually best if people are just nice to each other.

Hmm.

Hmm.

you were not in the army were you you know where i was well no matter straight in your spine perhaps

eh at the palace a line of soldiers would salute us just on our way to breakfast oh lucky you

had a mighty a fallen and back then we weren't always looking over our shoulders we were at

home with our own people you boy you must fetch the inspector why what's happened another threatening

letter you've done all right they ordered in no less than i deserve sure enough balkan mix apparently

nice see those little girl rings at the end there i'm a capstan man myself weren't you supposed to

bring me for that bavril i thought you had everything you needed here it's a bit rich for my blood

so where was miss edie rattle when the murder took place uh having a woodbine outside according to

her state having already administered the poison meant for the princesses according to my intelligence

sources she's a fully paid up party member communist red is lenin's combinations so she might have

wanted them dead on behalf of the new ruling class of scutari then there's the other sister of course

other sister oh yes there are three of them inspector three sisters

the kingdom divided exiled monarchs i wonder anyway princess sonia went over to the other side

so it could be her striking the blow for the work is by assassinating her siblings this is where we

should be looking uh in my opinion so yes like the ladies didn't he captain all that's not how i would

have put it still at least we have his home number now no no yes this must be his wife sylvia

what do you know she's the only one without a star rating oh yeah well there's another familiar name

in there too oh as you say sir oh and barberini second of may 1940 that's got race course

four stars passionate italian talks crossed out still legible what do you mean obvious isn't it

captain or didn't just like the ladies and he was a bit queer well you mean he traveled as it

were on the 38 bus and the 43 he met that italian barman at the races and had relations it's all

there in black and white better the races there ascot race course there is entry after entry

motive blackmail obviously captain or threatened to expose barberini captain was a married man it's all

a bit it's a bit far-fetched you never know we've married men sir what's your great theory then

that we'll be telling sergeant but speaking of mrs or i do think someone should talk to her soon

i'll ask trotty if i may wives always know whatever husbands think message from that lad jack sir

princesses are requesting another audience

a winston churchill mask no an oria flying helmet a piccadilly jar filled entirely with toenail

clippings oh yeah it's not for the faint of heart the life of a chambermaid but my dad ran a pub in

bala so i've seen it all and what about the murder i know i was outside you see you can't pin victor or on

me uh i wasn't trying to honest pity i wasn't there though i would have liked to see that one go down

so you were saying you got out of the clink and then you went to work in a bookshop yeah for mr book

yeah and now you're working for the scotari royal family

not for much longer i don't reckon i ain't much cop as a bodyguard

got anything by marks hey in your bookshop das capital volume four now you're talking

so why'd you leave i just don't think they're my sort of people no takes all sorts you know

um as i say the things i've seen in the walsingham maybe it's time you expanded your horizons a bit

sunshine let me know if you fancy that bar for some time yeah

so-called princesses my gourd rises as i see you in the newspaper decadent bones draped in

madame de bavier which will soon drip with your filthy blood yes i can see why you might feel

discomfited so what will you do about it my dear lady you will address me by my proper title uh do

forgive the inspector your royal highness the policeman is often a blunt tool rather than a diplomat

perhaps i might as i have said this is the latest of many dripping with venom our enemies their legion

can they not let us rest is it not enough that we are forced to drag our weary bones around the

world like phantoms you speak of the canoe of hospitality but what are we to make of yours

what welcome do we receive in your famous london wretched food wretched cold a bodyguard who fails

to guard and now this i'll do what i can given my limited resources

so

so

so

so

Yes, of course, and we're terribly sorry.

Well, if that's the best you can do.

Oh, Miss Raffel.

Yes, Mr. Kind.

I heard about the unfortunate incident.

That's one way of describing it.

I'm okay, but I think I might indulge myself a bit more in the cream of society.

As I've been fired, I can use the hotel as a guest instead.

Meaning?

Their Royal Highnesses.

I'm to put everything in their account.

Oh, don't spend too much.

What?

Nothing.

Um, Miss Raffel.

Yes?

Would you kindly come and see me after you've indulged yourself?

Okay, Mr. Kind.

E.D., can we talk?

I do want to apologize for the quality of the service today.

The heating is off, the menu is cold.

I'm deeply sorry.

Ismail, none of that is your fault.

Yeah, I'm afraid it is.

It was caused by the three bottles of linseed oil that I stole from your cupboard.

But linseed oil is for polishing.

I use it for my new old posts and my dados.

Yes, I know.

But I poured it into the generator.

I didn't poison Victor or E.D., but I did poison the hotel.

Oh, I was so angry.

With myself, with that man, with this place.

So I just thought I'd kill it.

I'm deeply sorry.

I shall confess everything to Mr. Kind, and you will not lose your job, E.D.

You will not lose your job, E.D.

You will not lose your job, E.D.

You.

Me.

This isn't easy for me, as I'm sure you can imagine.

Of course.

You've just lost your husband.

That boat sailed a long time ago, Mrs. Book.

And you're not the first of Victor's conquests to telephone.

If it makes it any easier, and you didn't, then what?

Conquer.

I used to come here all the time, you know, to watch you with the latest model.

Madam?

You've read it.

Does he want self-hear assessed like livestock?

Well, you think he got what he deserved.

Well, not quite, but, uh...

I mean, what a peak he was.

Do you know, I'd think better of him if it was a real diary.

Something with a bit of proper, adulterous passion.

Don't worry, my dear, I didn't really blame you.

I mean, Victor had charm to spare in his day.

And I grew used to his adventures.

Numb to them.

So used to them, it became a sort of hobby.

Did that sound strange?

My marriage grew cold.

Well, my life grew cold.

I don't really think I've felt anything since Dunkirk.

So I'd come here.

Where there was light and laughter.

Usually.

Did you not worry that he, uh, might see you?

Victor hadn't noticed me in years.

There was no reason to think he'd start now.

Is that how you were able to...

What?

The poison.

I mean, you were there.

You handed me that cloth.

It would have been easy for you to administer it.

I didn't kill my husband, Mrs. Book.

I pitied Victor.

Didn't despise him.

Then who did?

How was this war?

He did his service in Cairo.

And a stint in the Balkans.

The Balkans?

And before that, he was here.

The home front.

Whereabouts?

Ascot.

Ah, it is you.

Would it be...

What does that say?

Death to Parasite.

Thank you for coming.

Everything's off.

Kippers, kidneys, kedgeri.

And the radiators.

They're definitely off.

Oh.

There's a selection of cold meat.

Splendid.

Well, two of those then.

Please wait down.

Do make sure they're properly cold.

I have whoring consistency.

Sir?

The service.

It is appalling.

Well, call me Marie Antoinette.

But I was expecting the lavatories to flush.

Still, the heating did come on for half an hour.

That was nice.

You said it was urgent, Mr. Book.

In a way, yes.

Are you any closer?

Closer.

To finding out who tried to murder us?

No one tried to murder you.

But the letters.

The threads.

You sent those.

What?

You're mad.

How dare you?

Do sit down, princess.

The very idea that I...

I said sit down.

I may be more of a diplomat than the inspector.

There's only so much of this exhausting auteur I can stand.

When did you start?

Sending the letters.

Not right away, I imagine.

For a while it was real.

When we fled our country, there were eyes everywhere.

We feared to eat or drink.

We lived day by day.

Shoveed into stinking cellars.

The holds of filthy ships.

But the threat was real, Mr. Book.

In New York, we were fated.

They love royalty there, as you know, precisely because they have none of their own.

We were invited to all the right parties, met all the right people.

But there is nothing more tragic than exile, Mr. Book.

And nothing more pathetic.

After a time, the invitations dried up, the parade moved on,

and I realized that we had gone from being in danger to something far, far worse.

We had become irrelevant.

What did the New Rezim and Scutari have to fear from us?

Why would they send assassins halfway across the globe to make a way with us?

Why would anyone bother?

But there is glamour in death.

In danger.

And so I began to write all those letters.

Both to us and to the authorities of whichever poor nation we were imposing ourselves upon.

I pay a woman here a modest fee to skulk around the hotel, dropping them off now and then.

Some suspected your other sister might be behind those.

She's dead, Mr. Book.

I saw her shot in the face.

The communists never really trusted her.

And I will not lose another sister.

But then there was an actual poisoning.

I didn't know what to think.

Nafiyya swapped the glasses as always, and then that man, that captain,

lying dead at her feet, my mind, it raced.

How did it all become real?

But what else could I do but continue as planned?

It was very well done.

And last, though, the impression of your sister's pen nibs is very distinctive.

Indeed?

Music nib.

Narrow downstrokes, broad crossstrokes for writing musical notation.

Ah.

And she's composing those rather sad and lovely little tunes of hers.

And the references to your wardrobe, too.

Rather specific for a desperate communist assassin.

Oh, I couldn't help myself.

So does this mean, then, that...

Captain Orr was the intended victim.

So I have to ask, Mr. Book, in the spirit of your British stories,

who done it?

Well, that is the question, dear lady.

Sir?

Sir?

Not normally a fan of this sort of thing.

Redonent of the kind of thriller one finds in W.H. Smith.

However, sometimes it really is best to gather everyone together.

Unity of place and all that.

So, on the night of the murder,

Mr. Gazealy here set up a first round of two drinks.

Yes.

Which is rejected by the princesses and goes down the sink.

Now we come to the brouhaha.

And a new character enters our drama.

Captain Victor Orr.

Kindly represented here by Mr. Kind.

In you come, Miss Rattle.

Tell us what happened next.

Well, there's Captain Watsit soaked in tapinger.

And he's telling me he has some extra duties for me.

Which seem to involve me going to his room and leaving with some money.

So, I decline, of course.

And I'm looking over at Ismael.

I'm looking at him because, well, I think he might help me out.

Do the decent.

And he doesn't.

What happens next, Edie?

Well, I'm thinking, is the captain going to hit me?

So, I tell him where to get off.

And then he says something.

I know some threat or other.

I wasn't listening.

And that's when Jack here came to my rescue.

And then I went outside for a smoke.

Thank you, Miss Rattle.

So, Mr. Ghazili then sets up two more glasses for a new round.

Four Walsingham Sours.

In total.

Three good ones.

And one, as we shall see, about to have an extra ingredient.

But when precisely did one of these drinks get a dash of hydrochloric acid?

Princess Nefille, you told us that you switched two of these glasses around.

Which two?

Like this, Mr. Book.

One of ours.

Four, one of theirs.

Very good.

But you're not drinking yet, are you?

Because you want to see someone else drink first.

Which is only prudent, only sensible when there are so many assassins about.

So, you have to wait a little while longer until the distraction is over.

And this is the Russian roulette moment now, is it?

This was not a casual murder.

It was very carefully thought through.

Now, we know the poison was not in Mr. Ghazili's shaker.

We know that Princess Nefille deserves no reproaches.

All your Royal Highness did was switch one perfectly safe and effective,

waltzing himself and another.

In fact, I would suggest that none of these drinks would have produced anything worse than a hangover

until the incident were the coins.

That was the moment of opportunity for someone here to poison one of these cocktails.

The one that he was clearly about to pick up.

Yes, there was no mistake.

Captain Orr had to die.

Why, though?

Do you remember the Arundora star?

Not our finest hour, I feel.

She was torpedoed by the Jerrys.

Start of the war.

July 2nd, 1940.

There was a set two on board, wasn't there?

A lot of internees being sent to Australia?

Canada.

Canada.

Fighting amongst themselves.

Well, that's what it said in the Daily Express.

In Parliament, too, Mr. Book.

Does it mean it's true?

Indeed.

And amongst the passengers,

your sister, Maria.

Barberini, M.

12th January 1940, Ascot Racecourse.

16th of January, Ascot Racecourse.

19...

So it was her, Captain Orr met at the races?

Well, there was no racing during the war.

Quite.

Of course, Ascot's where they put the Regulation 18B lot, wasn't it?

English Nazis, German anti-Nazis, ice-cream men, spaghetti house vendors,

waiters who'd once said something vaguely complimentary about the cut of Il Duce's jib,

all put under barbed wire.

In a tournament camp?

What was the case against the Barberini's, though?

My parents were born in Italy.

So somebody had claimed there was a fascist.

Marched me out during service.

Sent up north.

Nobody protested.

Particularly the man who ran the bar here in the Blitz.

And your sister?

In 1938, my father said,

why not spend the summer with your Italian aunt?

Go to the beach with them,

to the Campo Solare,

build fires,

get some fresh air.

They give you a nice little uniform,

like the girl guides, but...

or Cellini's girl guides.

Ah.

So she brought the uniform home as a souvenir.

Hmm.

It was enough for the men from 18B.

There it was in a wardrobe, so...

off she went to Escott.

She was interned because of the uniform.

People do take them terribly seriously.

Well, it worked for Victor.

When he was in his sailor suit,

people did what he said.

I mean, it was charm, as well as rank.

Rank charm.

That's how he got Maria's name on the list for Canada.

Perhaps we should be generous.

Imagine he was getting her out of the camp

to a new life, away from the war.

No, no.

He just wanted the troublesome lover out of the way

before his wife found her.

That ship was a death trap.

A dream about that.

Those people pushing at the barricades.

The great wooden axes wrapped in barbed wire.

And then the sea coming in and drowning them both.

Both.

Maria and the baby.

His baby.

I knew his name, that was all.

But I couldn't find him.

The mess of the war had turned everything upside down.

No one was in a great hurry to help out an insignificant WAP waiter.

Turned out I'd been serving in Walsingham Sours for months.

Victor Orr, my old friend.

I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?

Well, the bloody girl can't take a joke.

Let's have a couple of those.

What do you call them?

Walsingham Sours.

With the two ladies.

Eh, for their royal highnesses.

You mean?

These are on me, ladies.

The man who took away my precious Maria.

My beloved sister.

So I did what had to be done.

I prepared ice.

Special ice.

Oh, oh dear.

So embarrassing.

I do apologize.

Not at all.

Look after the pennies.

The pounds will look after themselves.

Okay.

It was her birthday, you see.

Maria's birthday would have been.

It seemed, uh, it seemed fitting.

Yes.

Yes, master of time.

And I took the precaution of keeping some of the poisoned ice.

Tinky tonk.

Wait!

No!

Just ordinary ice allows.

I'm afraid I swapped it.

I'm so very, very sorry about your sister, Signor Barberini.

But murder is murder.

Marco Barberini, I'm arresting you on a charge of murder.

You do not have to say anything but anything you do say may be taken down and used against you in a court of law.

Do you have anything to say?

Oh, by the way, Mr. Kind, the linseed oil in the generators, that was me too.

Sorry.

Oh, by the way, Mr. Kind.

And you wanted a word?

Ah, yes, Miss Rattle.

I was thinking about your position here.

Well, now I know that you were not responsible for the incident with the generators.

Yes.

Well, your dismissal was unnecessarily expeditious.

Yes.

And I wanted to say I would very much like to offer that position back to you.

Well, I accept.

Well, that's all very satisfactory.

There's a ledger here, isn't there?

A ledger?

One with all the comings and goings of the staff.

Might I see my entry?

It's over there.

Yes, of course.

There I am.

Edith Rattle.

Reason for leaving, sabotage.

Well, let us strike that from the record.

Thank you, Mr. Kind.

Now, Mr. Kind, I resign.

You resign?

Yes, I resign.

Would you mind putting that in there for me?

You can't resign.

I believe I just did.

Oh, the workers.

Oh, the workers!

Oh, this is quite correct.

Two more, please.

For those people.

Oh.

Missing the war, are you?

I don't know what the etiquette is.

Oh, I think that's a royal summons.

Well, how's it?

For you, Mr. Book.

For the book.

Oh, thank you.

What's that for?

A hundred guineas.

No, I mean, what's it for?

Oh, our copy of the Canoon of Scutari.

In our trade, it pays to specialize.

It'll bounce.

Well, if it doesn't, I shall give it to the Arandora Star Memorial Fund.

Please enjoy.

What should we drink to?

To us.

To the Barberinis?

Yes.

To Marco and Maria and...

All the Barberinis.

The lost and the defeated.

All the Barberinis.

Those who bear the name and those who do not.

And let there be no more drownings.

He got me the job.

Mr. Book.

He arranged for you to take me on.

The princesses were looking for a bodyguard.

Gabriel asked if I could help.

So, you see, he was looking out for you.

Despite your falling out.

You know him well.

We go a long way back.

Looking out for me.

Or manipulating me.

Why would you think of it like that?

He sought me out.

Found me when I come out of prison.

Set me up.

Nice job.

Nice home.

Yes?

Why?

You'd have to ask him that.

I'm a monster.

Mr. Kind.

I'm grateful.

Of course I am.

It's just...

It's a lot, you know?

They're set up.

The way they are, Mr. and Mrs. Book.

The way he is.

It's hard for me to just accept it.

You have a moral objection?

Me?

What do I have to moralise?

I think you've answered your own question.

Book is kind.

I mean, I know I'm kind.

Edmund, kind.

But I once knew a girl called Joy, and she was anything but.

There's no sinister motive, Jack.

They want to help.

Why don't you let them?

Why don't you let them?

With you in just one moment.

Hello again.

Oh, Mrs. Goodwin.

Jean.

Jean.

After more of the same?

The pimpinette?

I'm not really sure.

I think I fancy something a little different.

May husband not with you?

No.

The golf course?

No.

The garrick?

The divorce courts.

Oh.

Oh.

That play you gave me.

A doll's house.

Most illuminating.

Like you suggested, it rather made me think.

Yes, I thought it might do.

Made me realise how narrow my horizons have become, or rather how narrow Gerald have made

my horizons.

Love doesn't always last forever, alas.

Never loved him.

Awful man.

But that's all in the past now.

Or in the hands of my solicitor, anyway.

So, what can I do for you then, Jean?

What have you got on travel?

Travel?

Lots of it.

Heaps of it.

Exotic travel.

I think it's time I saw a bit of the world.

I've got just the thing.

With you in just one moment, sir.

Thanks.

I know you run on it.

Without tea, I am really...

Unreconstituted dust.

It's hard to let go of the past, Mr. Book, when you have so many questions about it.

Such as?

Well, if it wasn't for you and Trotty, I'd be, well, I'd be sleeping on the embankment.

But now I have a position, if it's still available.

The Royal Highnesses have let you go.

I'll quit.

Good for you.

Yes, the job's still yours.

So, I've got a position.

Cozy little room above a bookshop on Archangel Lane.

I'm thinking...

Why me?

Your father gave me this.

The last time I saw him.

1935.

The last time?

He died.

Soon after.

I couldn't face looking at this book.

Not for years.

And then the war came, and I was busy.

Rather busy.

It was only a few months ago that I picked it up again.

Dared to pick it up.

And I found there was a little more to it than I thought.

What do you mean?

Oh, somewhere meek, unconscious dove

That sittest ranging golden hair

And glad to find thyself so fair

Poor child

That waitest for thy love

He's trying to tell me, you see

About you

About the son I never knew he had

Must have been taken around when you were conceived.

Felix

I've never heard his name

Just that

Just that one picture

Your father was a German

German?

Prussian

In point of fact

What was he to you, Mr. Book?

What was Felix to me?

He was everything, Jack

He was everything, Jack

He was what the war took away

He was the whole damn world

How did he die?

How did he die?

I don't know

Shall we find out?

We sort my final

And we can cut nível

But I was-

I can do it

By the end

Ever

Like

Imagine

You kind to me

Get out an

Villain

I don't know

Yeah, I want to put in

You

Know

How did he die?

I don't know

Come on

Maybe I can do it

Go on