Original subtitles

It sounds absolutely ghastly.

You did quite well. You did commit suicide.

It must have been suicide.

We were all in the conservatory with Roger when we heard the shot.

By the way, Nicholson seems to have appeared rather conveniently.

He'd left his big mama something or other behind earlier and we'd come back

it.

Frankie, suppose for a minute Nicholson shot old Henry.

Having first persuaded him to write a suicide note. That would be the easiest

thing in the world, to fake.

A fake that would convince the dead man's wife?

His brother?

Look, if you're in such a state that the suicide seemed the only way out, how

good, how typical would your handwriting be?

Go on.

Nicholson shoots Basington French, leaves the farewell letter, nips out,

the door.

only to appear a few minutes later as though he'd just arrived.

It's a good idea, but it won't work.

To begin with, the key was in Henry's pocket.

Who found it there?

Nicholson did.

There you are, then.

Where? What's easier for him than to pretend to find it?

Oh, but I was watching him, remember? I'm sure the key was in his pocket.

Sylvia saw him drive up when we ran round to the study windows.

In fact, she brought him round. I hate to say it, but he had a perfect alibi.

Free death.

Free?

Alan Castell, Henry Bathington French, and there but for the grace of God goes

you.

Who's next?

Moira.

Good Lord, I'd forgotten all about her.

So I'd noticed.

We must persuade her to leave the Grange at once.

We could send her down to Wales.

Take Father's mind off his beastly doubt, and she'd be perfectly safe at

castle. If you can fix it, Frankie, nothing could be better.

It's extraordinary how men like helpless women.

Bring the car round, half past ten, and I'll rescue your precious Moira.

Frankie?

Good morning, Roger.

It's grim.

Absolutely grim.

Starts off as some sort of adventure.

Why didn't they ask Evans? Well, why didn't they?

Might have saved us an awful lot of bother.

Poor little boy.

I've an idea about Evans.

I've a feeling that although he's been the starting point, he really doesn't

matter at all.

Sometimes I don't think there is an Evans.

Rather creepy, isn't it?

I wonder more I get the horror there.

Thank you, Mr. Dmitrov.

Lady Frances.

Good morning, Dr. Nicholson.

Oh, you don't come with bad news about Sylvia, I hope? No, no, she was still

asleep when I left. Well, eventually she will have to face the brutal reality of

her husband's death, but for the first few days we must try to soften the

the sense of loss.

I'll call round this afternoon, make sure she's all right.

I'm sure you're very busy, Dr. Nicholson. I don't trouble you. I really

see your wife.

Where?

That's very kind of you.

Very kind. If she isn't up yet, I could sit and wait. Oh, she's up. Oh, good,

good. I want to persuade her to come to me for a visit to Derwent Castle.

She's practically promised her.

Really?

Well, I had no idea that you'd met my wife, Lady Frances.

I met her yesterday.

When I was out walking.

And I recognized her at once from her photograph at Merriway.

She said she'd never been to our part of Wales, so I thought, well, there's no

time like the present, don't you agree?

I'm sure my wife would have enjoyed that very much indeed.

Would have?

Unfortunately, she went away this morning.

Went away?

Just for a little change.

You don't know where she's gone?

London, I imagine.

You know, shops, theatres, you know, the sort of thing. Good, well, I'm on my

way to London now. If you'll give me her address, I could call on her this

afternoon. Well, she usually stays at the Savoy, but in any case, I shall be

hearing from her in a day or so.

I believe in perfect liberty between husband and wife.

Yes, I think the Savoy will be the most likely place for you to find her.

So very kind of you to think of asking my wife to stay, Lady Frances.

Come, I told them. You are going to take me away, aren't you? I do so want to

come home.

Let me alone!

You're a good girl. You're a good girl.

We're written to you, sister.

We told you that yesterday.

Don't you trust us?

Nurse, would you show Lady Frances out, please?

Come on.

Let's go upstairs.

Oh, Peter.

What will happen to her?

The doctor will give her something to quieten her down.

Morphia? Whatever he thinks is best.

Drive round the corner.

Up the track or something. We've got to talk.

Randy. Randy.

Frankie, are you all right?

No, I'm not all right.

I'm shaking.

I'm actually shaking.

Now I know how a mouse must feel when a cat won't quite kill it.

Gone away?

When?

This morning, he said.

I don't believe it.

Morrie would never have left without letting us know.

Where's she supposed to be?

He says he doesn't know.

She may be at the Savoy. On the other hand, she may not be.

He believes in perfect liberty between husband and wife.

I knew it.

We should never have let her go back there yesterday.

Bobby.

You don't think she's... dead, do you?

Hello? Badger?

Bobby! Thank heaven, the friendly voice at last.

Listen, I need your help.

Meet me at that cafe.

Fred's or whatever it's called, in three -quarters of an hour.

Come on the motorbike and bring me some clothes.

Oh, and Badger, in my suitcase you'll find my old service revolver.

A revolver? A gun?

Robert Jones, I don't like the sound of that at all.

Oh, don't worry. I know what I'm doing.

But you do see, don't you?

If Moira's in that house, I've got to get her out. You will be careful.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Now, I think Hawkins the chauffeur will have to disappear.

I'll move over to the station hotel at Ambledover. It's only a few miles away

from the grain. But if you're not Hawkins, who are you, if I have to get

you? I quite like being Mr Sprague.

I think I'm going to do a little sleuthing of my own. Oh, Frankie. Follow

Roger's hunch.

The Caymans.

The rotten old Caymans who we now know were not what they seemed. You still

their address.

Yes, yes, of course, but I don't want you doing anything that might be

dangerous. Look, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll get Dr George R.

Buttner to help me.

It won't.

Well, I suppose he's better than nothing.

Anyway, if the Caymans are as guilty as you seem to think they are, I'll bet you

anything the birds have flown.

As the Caymans have obviously fled, can't we go to lunch?

Don't give up so easily, George.

Bad girl.

I've wrapped your gun in your pyjamas.

I don't want it now, you fool.

I was told we could tell me where I've been and what's going on.

If I could tell anyone, I'd tell you.

Look, so far, if anyone's known anything, something's happened to them.

And I don't want anything happening to you or Frankie.

That's why I made her come back to London and wanted you to meet me here

of the garage.

Why?

Because it's being watched.

How's trade?

Could be worse.

Oh.

When I get this cleared up, if ever I do, we'll really get down to it, I

promise.

Shall I take your chauffeur's uniform?

Oh, no. No, I'd better hang on to that. You never know.

Well... I'd better get back to Stapley, I suppose.

Oh, forget I said that, would you?

Well, here we are.

Well,

that was a waste of time.

All we've found is the railway timetable open on page 37.

Chipperfield, Chipping Camden, Chipping Norton, Chipping Sodbury, Chipping

Somerton, Chudley Knighton.

Well, where are you going to start?

John Servage. What?

Where have I heard that name before?

Oh, I knew Sylvia Basington French when she was talking about Alan Carstairs.

We'd been on safari with Servage.

Well, what does it say?

Sir Robert Porchester broke his leg yesterday when his yacht, the ill

Andorra, was rammed leaving the harbour.

Could there be a jinx on this unlucky vote? It will be remembered that its

owner, the millionaire John Savage, committed suicide on learning he had

Well, where does that get us?

Mrs. Rivington told Bobby that Alan Carstairs was very upset about Savage's

death.

It could be.

Could be what?

It could be that we've been barking up the wrong tree.

Supposing it was Savage's death that Alan Carstairs wanted to find out about,

and supposing he was on the track of something... All right, supposing. How

we find out? Why would anyone want to kill a millionaire?

Money.

Something in his will?

Perhaps he left it all to Evans. You know, why didn't they ask Evans?

Good heavens, I'd forgotten all about him. And you know, when I do think about

him, I think he's a complete and utter red herring. Come on, finish your

We're going to take proper counsel.

Where are we going now?

To see Mr...

This is indeed a pleasure, Lady Frances.

And how is Lord Marchington? Well, I trust?

Suffering from gout and bad temper.

In other words, much as usual.

Well, now, to what do we owe this totally delightful but unexpected visit?

Blackmail?

Indiscreet letters.

I want to look at a will.

I don't know where you go and what you do, but there is somewhere you can pay a

shilling, isn't there? Well, the Somerset House.

I want to look at a will of a Mr Savage.

Mr John Savage.

Well, now, that is extraordinary.

I really don't know what to do.

Perhaps if you could give me your reasons.

Oh, no.

No, I'm afraid I can't.

Lady Frances, I really believe I ought to warn you.

Warn me?

There's something afoot.

Either something is afoot, or we have to accept the most incredible coincidence.

And as a legal man, I have difficulty with the coincidence.

I have been impersonated, Lady Frances.

What do you say to that?

How did you find out?

You know something of this business.

Yes, I'm afraid I do.

This is all my fault.

It was just a joke. We wanted something to do.

And who had the idea of passing himself off as me?

Room number six, Mr. Sprague.

Thank you.

Mr. Sprague, it wasn't just anyone parting themselves off with you.

Actually, it was the young Duke of... No.

No, I mustn't mention any names. It just wouldn't be fair.

Oh, you bright young people, what troubles you land yourselves in.

High spirits can sometimes lead to complications that can be extremely

to settle out of court.

I feel terribly ashamed.

I suppose it was Mrs. Rivington who gave it away.

Oh, dear, what exactly did she tell you?

Dear Mr.

Sprague, it's really too stupid of me, but I've just remembered something that

might have helped you the day you called on me.

Alan Carstairs mentioned that he was going to a place called Chipping...

Chipping Somerton.

I don't know if this will be of any help to you. I was so interested in what you

told me about the Mel Travers case.

You're sincerely Edith Rivington.

You can see now why I took it that some extremely questionable business was

afoot, whether connected with the Mel Travers case or with my client, Mr.

Carstairs.

Alan Carstairs?

Was a client of yours?

He consulted me, yes.

Do you know the gentleman?

He came to see you about Mr.

Savage's will, didn't he?

I gave him my opinion that nothing could be done about the will unless Mr.

Savage's relatives, neither close true second cousins living in Australia, were

prepared to contest it.

But undue influence is incredibly difficult to prove.

Undue influence?

Mr. Savage was a hard -headed businessman, but he was clearly as wax

woman's hair.

Oh, that woman.

Alan got so heated about her, I never fully understood what had gone on.

Ocean trips are notoriously dangerous in middle -aged bachelors.

Pretty woman, husband prepared to say tactfully in the background.

Fatal combination.

And by all accounts, this Mrs Templeton was particularly good -looking.

Certainly, Mr Savage found her so attractive that he accepted her

go down and stay at her cottage at Shipping Somerton.

Well, there's no doubt he came more than more under her influence.

And then came the tragedy.

Mr Savage feared that he may be suffering from... Well, certain disease.

Cancer.

subject became an obsession.

The Templetons persuaded him to go up to London and consult a specialist.

This he did.

Here, Lady Frances, I preserve an open mind.

But that specialist, most distinctly, swore at the inquest that Mr Savage was

not suffering from cancer, that he told him so, but that he was so obsessed by

his own belief that he refused to accept the truth of it.

So what do you think happened, Mr. Sprague?

Well, it seems likely that Mr. Savage may have thought the doctor's reassuring

words were not true. But what is known is that he came back to Chipping

-Thompson in a state of great mental distress.

He sent for a solicitor, a reputable local man, who there and then drew up a

will, which Mr. Savage signed and delivered over to the solicitor for

Later that same evening, Mr. Savage took a large overdose of chloral.

leaving a letter behind in which he explained he preferred a quick, painless

death to a long, painful one.

The jury brought in their usual sympathetic verdict of suicide while

mind. Poor man.

That, Lady Frances, is one thing he was not.

By his will, he left a generous sum to various charities and the sum of £700

,000 free of legacy duty to Mrs Templeton.

£100 ,000?

That, if I may say so, was Mr. Carstairs' reaction.

His contention was that the will was completely uncharacteristic of Mr.

who had no liking for organized charities and strong views as to money

through blood relationship.

I had to tell him the possession was nine points of the law and Mrs.

already had possession.

And no one knows anything at all about her?

Went to live in the south of France and refused to enter into any communication

on the matter.

Well, with 700 ,000 pounds, who can blame her?

Mr. Sprague, you've been wonderful.

Simply wonderful.

I feel too ashamed.

You bright young people, you should be more careful.

You've been an angel.

Young Duke.

Mr. Miss Zorg, bring me in Burg's peerage, will you?

Going out this time of night, sir.

A spot of fresh air on the bike before turning in, you know.

Don't sleep too well.

You look out for potholes, sir.

Young George Chapman came up his bike last week just outside the

Nasty mess.

I'll be careful.

Don't worry.

Night, Cap George.

No, thanks. Early start tomorrow.

Bad news?

From Roger Basington, French.

Inquest is the day after tomorrow.

He wants me to go down.

There's no question to check the walls.

Nothing this way.

Only the limonade, cedar tree down.

Gate's been left open.

Nothing else.

I'll do it this way.

That's the trouble with working with doonies. You end up hearing things.

Bobby's disappeared.

Your friend Bobby Jones, alias Hawkins.

And Moira's vanished.

Moira. Well, Sean Nicholson knows where she is.

Bobby thought it would be easier to keep an eye on the Grange from a hotel in

Ambledover. He registered on Wednesday evening.

I sent him a wire to say that I'd look in on him on the way down to the

and the wire was there. He wasn't.

Landlord said he'd gone out for a breath of fresh air that first night and

hasn't been seen since.

Well, perhaps he was on the train or something.

No. He moved on. Didn't have time to explain.

Leaving all his things behind?

Did you bring them with you?

I didn't think.

Should I have?

Well, there might have been something.

Some clue.

You think I'm silly to worry.

No, I don't think you're silly.

I don't like the sound of it. I... You asked me to let you know when the

arrived. Yes, thank you, Ross.

We'd better go through.

Unfound mind.

You don't think it was?

Do you?

I think we were most fortunate to have Dr. Davidson as coroner.

He was both tactful and considerate.

Everything went off perfectly.

Almost too perfectly, wouldn't you say?

Like a good stage performance.

I think I know how Lady Frances feels.

My brother was murdered, Dr. Nicholson.

I mean it.

The law may not regard it as such, but murder it was.

Whoever induced my brother to become a slave to that drug murdered him.

As surely as if they'd struck him down.

To induce a man to take drugs is indeed a most terrible crime.

You came down by car, Lady Frances.

No accidents this time, I hope. No.

No, I think it's a pity to go in too much for accidents, don't you?

Perhaps your chauffeur drove you.

My chauffeur's disappeared.

Indeed. He was last seen heading for the Grange.

Perhaps you've been paying too much attention to the local gossip, Lady

I myself have heard the wildest stories.

For instance, that my wife and your chauffeur have been seen talking

down by the lake.

Haven't you heard from your wife yet?

Not yet, Lady Frances.

Aren't you at all worried about her?

Not as much as you seem to be about the disappearance of your chauffeur.

Frankie, these just came for you.

Thank you for coming. Are you sure you're all right? Oh, I'm fine.

But how I would have managed without Jasper, I just don't know. Though

everyone's been most wonderfully kind. Sylvia, I really must be going now.

Thank you, Sylvia.

Excuse me.

Dear Frankie, I'm on the trail at last.

Follow me as soon as possible to Chipping Somerton.

You'd better come by train and not by car. The Bentley's too noticeable.

You're to come to a house called Tudor Cottage. I'll add the directions for

finding it below.

Don't tell anyone where you're going because the deeper we get into this, the

more sure I am there is no one at Stavely we can trust.

No one.

I know it's grim, but you've got to believe me.

Yours ever.

Bob.

Interesting?

Not really.

You'll stay to lunch.

I must be off.

I've hardly seen you.

There'll be other times.

Oh, Roger, would you do me a favour?

The Bentley's making a funny tick -ticking noise and I can't possibly cope

it breaking down on my own. Would you mind if I left it here?

No, not in the least.

Providing you let me drive you to the station.

And don't worry too much about Bobby.

Perhaps he's gone to London.

Turn right out of the station, away from the village.

This is the track that will take you to the cottage.

When you can see the cottage, hoot like an owl.

Twice.

I'll be waiting.

Was it after you wrote that letter?

What letter?

You know, telling me how to get here. I never wrote you a letter.

For Frankie, you didn't.

Oh, but I did.

Honestly, it sounded exactly like you. You even used the word grim.

Grim? What's that got to do with it? You're always using it.

No, I'm not.

Even all that about not telling a soul made a ghastly sort of sense.

This is how they got me.

How did they get you?

Well, I wanted to have a look at the Grange after dark, to try to find Moira.

I nearly brought it off, too, when somebody must have crept up behind me

given me the most tremendous help.

I went out like a light.

Nicholson, I'll bet. Sort of underhand thing he would. No, no, it couldn't have

been Nicholson.

I'd heard him calling from the house only a few seconds before.

Whenever we think it's him, he's always somewhere else.

Anyway, whoever it was, why just knock me out?

Well, it would have been terribly easy to finish me off.

I didn't think Nicholson would stick at a thing like that. Same reason as

before. They've got to make it look like an accident.

You don't mean they're going to have another go at me?

What day is it?

Friday.

I was knocked out on Wednesday.

Dash, it all had been pretty well unconscious for two and a half days.

I wonder how much morphia they used this time. Oh, don't start that again.

Must be pretty well bummed full of the stuff by now.

Frankie, you don't think I'm going to end up like poor old Henry, do you?

I think there's every possibility we're both going to end up like poor old

Henry, dead.

Too bad I won't be able to use all that information I got from Mr.

Sprague. The real Mr. Sprague.

He told me.

John Savage committed suicide having made a new will leaving £700 ,000 to a

woman he met on board ship.

A Mrs. Emily Templeton married to Edgar Templeton of Tudor cottage, Chipping

Somerton.

Here? Here.

By Jove.

So do you think it's the Templetons who got us?

Apparently they're in the south of France enjoying her ill -gotten gains.

Oh.

And, uh, Moira?

She's still missing.

Yet that brute has laid a finger on her.

Frankie, we've got to get out of here. For her sake.

I'd quite like to get out of here for my own.

Let's see if I can undo your hands with my teeth.

It was me.

Oh, sorry.

No, it's no good. I can't let it impress me. Yes, it's loosely.

Unworthy of you, my dear young lady, to fall into such an easy little trap. I

knew it was you.

And made your suspicions very obvious.

Possibly a little too obvious.

Wouldn't you say now?

At any rate, let me see if you're still comfortable.

Ah, wait.

Ah, there now.

I trust you won't find this too.

intolerable, but it will only be for a very short while.

What are you going to do to us?

You taunted me, Lady Frances, for being too fond of accidents.

Maybe I am.

At any rate, I am going to risk one more accident.

Lady Frances Derwent, a chauffeur beside her, mistake a turning and turn into a

disused road leading to a quarry.

The car crashes over the edge.

Lady Frances and her chauffeur are killed.

Oh, and just to add credibility to the event, it will be made to look as if

Frances had most certainly been doing the driving. You can't count on us being

killed outright.

Oh, I promise you, both you and Lady Frances will both be quite dead when

bodies are discovered.

You're making a big mistake, you know.

Especially where Lady Frances is concerned.

Yes. Yes. In that very clever letter you forged, you told me to tell nobody.

Well, it just so happens I made an exception.

I tell Roger Basington French.

And if anything happens to us, he will know who's responsible.

A very good bluff.

But I'll call it.

What about Moira, your wife, you swine? Have you murdered her, too?

Moira is still alive.

How much longer she will remain alive, I really don't know.

You know what annoys me most about this business?

What? Being hurtled into the next world without knowing who Evans is.

Well, why didn't you ask him?

You know, it's all last -minute boon. He can't refuse to tell us now, not now

we're going to die.

Oh, my God.

What?

That man isn't Nichols.

Frankie.

When I told him Roger knew about the letter, he gripped the candle a little

tightly and the light fell on his face. Yes, I can see it now.

It should have had a scratch on it, and it didn't.

One of Nicholson's patients scratched him at the Grange when I was asking

Moira. That man had no mark on him at all.

Who is it, then?

There's only one person it can be.

Roger.

Are you sure?

He was the only other person in the room when I taunted Nicholson about the

accidents.

You know what this means.

It really is all up with us now.

Moira is a prisoner.

You and I are bound hand and foot.

Nobody else has the least idea where we are.

Badger! Peter, I can't begin to tell you.

Quick, Badger!

Pull off all my shoes.

Don't try to talk. You'll just haul it off anyhow.

Now, chuck it down there in the middle of all the glass.

Get under the bed, Badger, quickly.

Very clever.

Extremely acrobatic.

How did you manage that, then, I wonder?

Perhaps these ropes should be a little bit tighter. Perhaps they should.

Houdini, I believe, saw this sort of thing as a challenge.

I do hope you won't be so foolish as to make that sort of mistake.

I'm sorry I was a little drafty now.

You'll have to blame your enterprising chauffeur.

It's absolutely filthy under there.

Have you got a knife?

I didn't think that I could come prepared for all this. Oh, do shut

there's a good chap.

Torch. Hold this a second, will you?

Matches.

We could burn them up, I suppose. Oh, Badger.

Penknife.

No, no, no, ladies first.

Why? Oh, Badger, whatever rotten things I've said about you in the past, I'm

well and truly sorry.

Oh, I think my thumb's been in a droop.

We'll have to get a good look at him. Yes. You're absolutely right. No

scratches, I can see now.

All the same, I have to admit, it's a pretty good performance.

I've got cramps.

Oh, how we could ever have thought it was Nicholls.

What was what?

Our charming friend who's just gone out. I actually thought he was somebody

else. Well, that was Roger Bassington French, didn't you know?

We know now, but how did you know?

Well... I went to Oxford with him.

Oh, it's so gloriful. I'm still dreaming.

Marvellous actor, but bad hat, though. Bad business about forging Peter's name

on a cheque.

Old man hushed it up.

He was a year or two ahead of me, of course, but I recognise him anyway. Why

didn't you tell us you knew him? Never asked me.

Come to think of it, you never even mentioned his name, and point the fact

you've been jolly secretive about the whole... Look, what I want to know is

miracle brought you to the skyline.

Well, you see, after you went off, I got into a bit of a mess.

I couldn't pay the bills, so I came to find you to see if you'd lend me a

Oh, Badger.

Badger, if we ever get out of this, I'll get Father to give you as many fivers

as you want. Well, that's not what friends are for.

But how did you find us? By being jolly cunning, that's how.

All you told me was Stavely. So I looked it up on the map. I reckoned if I

couldn't find you, I'd certainly find the Bentley.

And I did.

But I lived at Meroe Court. I found it before I got to Dabley, actually,

the Dayton Hotel. That's right. The village called Amble Dover. How did you

that? Because that's where I was staying.

Well, that's what I thought.

Anyway, there were some things, rugs and things, in the back of the car. Nobody

about. So I got in. And I pulled the rugs over me.

And I was about to give you a surprise of your life when you came out. I did?

Well, the bloke I thought was you.

He was wearing your chauffeur's uniform. He had a cap jammed down over his head.

He was wearing a moustache.

Oh, he must have got it out of my room at the station hotel.

Well, he got into the car and drove off. Well, I was just about to bring it out

and say, got you, when I realised it wasn't you at all.

Roger again.

I'm sorry. I told him everything, where you were staying, that all your things

were still there.

He's all my fault.

But I was so worried about you.

Were you really?

Desperately.

Don't you want to know what happened next?

Oh, yes, yes, of course. Well, finally, we arrived here. I drove the Bentley

into the garage.

There was a little window, though, and I saw you arrive.

I thought you'd come to rescue me, actually.

Well, then the choker fellow grabbed you.

Well, I'm not a complete fool.

I knew something was wrong, but all the downstairs windows were shattered. So

then I scaled the drainpipe.

And found that.

And then I slipped.

Well, but for you, Badger, my lad, Frankie and I would have been corpses in

about an hour's time.

Well, now that I've arrived in the nick of time, what do we do next?

There's only one thing we can do.

Ready, Lady Fern?

Ah, good evening, Mr.

Basington French.

Well, darling. You will be if I have anything to do with it. Quick, Butcher,

him on the bed!

There certainly is.

And apart from anything else, it's your turn to find out how jolly uncomfortable

it is.

How could you?

Sorry.

You forged that letter from Bobby, didn't you?

Yes, I did.

Another of my talents.

And Bobby?

Bobby, Bobby was easy.

I got him neatly on the back of the neck with a sandbag, didn't I? All I had to

do was drag him out to where my car was waiting, shove him in the diggy and

drive him down here. I was back at Merriway the next morning in time to

the grieving widow.

Why did you pretend to be Nicholson?

Um, why did I now?

Partly, I think, fun, seeing if I could spoof you both.

You were absolutely certain he was in it up to the neck.

Totally innocent. I was a child on board, but he did draw my attention to

car accident of yours.

Made me realize you mightn't be quite the innocent young thing you seem to be.

There's something you've got to tell me.

Got to?

No point not telling me now.

And it's been driving me mad with curiosity.

Who is Evan?

You don't know.

You really don't know?

That is very amusing.

It just goes to show what a fool one can be.

Meaning us?

No, no, no, meaning me.

Do you know, if you don't know who Evans is, I don't think I'm going to tell

you.

Roger!

So, what are you going to do with me?

The police, of course.

Quite right, yes. Ring them up, hand me over.

The charge will be abduction, I suppose.

I shall plead a guilty passion.

What about murder?

Murder?

My dear, you haven't a scrap of evidence.

Badger, I think we'd better go and bring the police.

Hey, what about, what about... Oh, you'll be all right. I can lock the

How terribly distrustful of you.

By the way, there's a pistol in my pocket if you'd like it.

It's yours, actually.

You'll be careful, won't you?

It's loaded.

Right.

I'll go first.

Frankie, I think you'd better keep between us.

Frankie!

Straight my collar for me, would you?

One likes to look one's best when meeting the constabulary.

Thank you so very much.

is be quite sure and not make a mess of things now.

He's a queer chap, isn't he?

Damn good loser.

We'd better check this room first.

We don't want to be taken in the rear.

She's still breathing.

Only just.

She's been drugged.

Morphine again, I shouldn't wonder.

We'd better get a doctor.

Frankie. Frankie, wait.

Look, she's your friend. You want her saved or don't you?

Probably cut the wires.

Oh, good.

Doctor first, police second. No, police first. They'll bring a doctor. Here, let

me. It's men like you who stop women getting the vote.

Operator. Operator, oh, come on. Well, I know you can't stop me, but I'm going

to see if there's something to eat. Come on, Beth. It's an emergency.

And please, Jason, this is an emergency.

Not a sausage. Not even the wherewithal to make a cup of tea.

You know, I don't believe anyone's lived here for months.

Open up in the name of the Lord.

I never believed they really said that.

Now, what's all this about, then? And where's my patient? Please, Doctor, this

way. Just one moment. Could I have your name, please?

I'm Lady Frances Dowd.

My father is the Earl of Marchington. Oh, yeah?

Now, please, will you come? I suppose your father's the Earl of Canterbury,

then, sir. Oh, no, no, the Vicar of St Stephen's, actually.

My name's Bobby Jones, and this is Badger Beaton. And upstairs is a

criminal. Upstairs, sir?

Yes, we've got him tied up, actually. He can't escape.

This way, please.

Don't do it, Harry.

It's more mean, all right. I'd better get into a nursing home right away.

He's in there.

Sorry. Here you are.

Well,

sir?

There you are.

Don't be so horribly vigorous.

Where's Badger? Still asleep.

A chambermaid has unsuccessfully called him four times already.

Even in London he has great difficulty in waking before twelve.

Perhaps you should try running an all -night garage.

How can you?

It must be the sandbagging. Probably broken up adhesions in the brain.

Have you found the nursing home?

Ah, yes.

Now, apparently Morrie's gone to London.

To a nursing home place in Queensgate. Said she'll feel safer there. She never

did have much nerve.

Well, anyone might be scared of a cold -blooded murderer like Roger Basington

French, who's in the neighborhood.

He doesn't want to murder her. We're the ones he's after.

Toast and milk tea for one, and more toast for you.

Ah, thank you.

Why do you bring out the maternal in everyone except me?

Oh, by the way, what do you make of this?

Did you find it? Last night, at the cottage. It didn't slip behind the

telephone.

Mr. Kane.

Excuse me.

Do you know who that is?

No.

Well, I've seen the gentleman before, but I can't quite call to mind... Oh,

yes, it's the gentleman who had Tudor Cottage, Mr. Templeton. They've gone

now, somewhere abroad, I believe.

700 ,000 pounds.

No wonder they had to get her uncrafted out of the way.

The start of the whole thing must be John Savage's death. Look, I still have

notes I made after looking at his will. The witnesses were... Rose Chudley Cook

and Albert Mayer Gardner. They shouldn't be too difficult to find. And then

there were the lawyers.

Alfred Meade, very respectable local firm. Right.

I hope you have overcome the unfortunate incident of yesterday evening,

Mrs. Francis.

Did you hear about it?

They probably wanted to extort money.

People in your position are unfortunately very dangerous.

What particularly touched me was the fact that it was the same house where

poor John Savage died.

Oh, you knew Mr.

Savage? Personally, I didn't know him.

I met some of his relatives at a party shortly after his death.

They seemed a little disturbed to me.

Apparently, you hoped to inherit something. After all, he was a

wasn't he?

There were also rumors about a fraud.

I personally accepted the testament, Lady Frances. A fraud is absolutely

excluded.

So you got to know John Savage yourself?

Yes, if only briefly.

If I only knew the least about his fear of cancer, it would have been clear to

me... What would have been clear?

...why everything had to go so quickly.

He insisted that the testament was immediately accepted and signed by the

witnesses.

But, Rose, you were there when Mr. Savage died, weren't you?

Who, ma 'am?

The gentleman from Tudor Cottage, Mr. Savage.

You were there when he died.

Who?

The man who left Mrs. Tembles and all his money.

Oh, him.

The man there was the inquest on.

You remember, Fred? That's right.

Used to come and stay quite often, didn't he?

Oh, I said that I couldn't say, ma 'am.

I'd only been there a few weeks.

I thought you were there much longer than that. Oh, that would be Gladys.

Gladys? She was House Parliament. She was there about six months.

And there were just the two of you? Yes. She was House Parliament. I was the

court.

And you witnessed Mr. Savage's will?

Yes. Me and Albert Meir, the gardener.

I've never done anything like it before. And it didn't like it, I can tell you.

What happened exactly?

I beg your pardon, sir?

Who called you in to sign your name?

Mrs. Templeton, ma 'am. She came down to the kitchen and said I was to go

outside and get Albert and we were supposed to go upstairs.

And there was the poor gentleman sitting up in bed.

I'd never seen him before, but he looked ghastly. I said, so do you, Fred,

didn't I? But Mr. Alfred said it was quite all right.

There was nothing to worry about. Just to sign my name where he signed his,

which I did, and put cook after it and the address, and Albert did the same.

And I went down to Gladys in the kitchen, all of a tremble. I'd never

look so like Deb.

And Gladys said he'd looked all right the night before.

Must have been something in London that upset him.

He got up to London early that morning, see, before anyone was up.

And he died when?

very next day as ever is he shut himself up in his room that night and when

Gladys went up to call him in the morning he was stiff and dead and a note

his bed to the coroner it said well then there was the inquest and everything

and Mrs Templeton went abroad and she got me a very nice place up north to

nice lady Mrs Templeton pretty too

Thank you, Mrs. Frass. Good afternoon to you, miss, and to your young gentleman.

And I hope you'll both be as happy.

as what me and Fred is.

I'll catch you up.

Mrs. Pratt, there was just one other thing.

I found him.

Pity he can't talk.

Why? He might have told us the answer to the one thing that's still puzzling me.

Why Mrs. Templeton sends for the gardener to witness the will when the

Parliament was there all the time?

Why didn't they ask the Parliament?

It's odd you're saying that.

Why? Because that's why I went back, to ask Gladys' name and address.

Well? The Parliament's name was Evans.

You've just asked the same question the poor old Anon Cartes asked after he was

pushed off the cliff.

Why didn't they ask the Parliament? Why didn't they ask Evans?

Bobby, we're getting there at last.

Costas must have been nosing around, just as we are, looking for something

fishy, and the same point struck him too.

That's why he went to Wales.

Gladys Evans is a Welsh name.

Evans was probably a Welsh girl.

He was following her.

Someone was following him, and so he never got to her.

All right.

So why didn't they ask Evans?

With a couple of female staff in the house, why send for the gardener?

Perhaps because both Rose and Albert were chumps.

Probably.

Sorry, Albert.

Whereas Evans may have been rather a sharp girl.

It can't only be that.

Mr. Alfred was there too, and he's shrewd enough.

Oh, the answer's so close.

Evans.

Why Rose and Albert, not Evans?

I'm getting it.

Just a sort of flicker.

Bobby.

If you're in a house with two servants, which do you tip?

The House Parliament, of course. One never tips the cook. One never sees her

one thing.

No.

And she never sees you.

What are you getting at?

They couldn't ask Evans to witness that well because she would have seen the man

making it wasn't savage.

Well, who was it then?

Three gethers.

Not Roger Basington French again.

Don't you see?

Roger impersonated Savage.

I bet it was Roger, too, that went to the doctor and made all that fuss about

having cancer.

Remember Mrs. Pratt said he left early that morning before anyone was awake?

I bet poor old Mr. Savage never left the house at all.

They probably drugged him, kept him in that foul garret they shut us up in

Roger did his impersonation stunt.

As soon as the will is signed, they pop Savage back into his own bed, give him

an overdose of chloral, and Evans finds him dead in the morning. I do believe

you've hit it, Frankie.

But how do we prove it?

I don't know.

Yet.

But an expert should be able to detect that their signatures are forgery.

They didn't before.

Ah, because nobody raised the question.

One thing is certain.

We've got to find Evans.

She may be able to tell us a lot.

Where are we going? The post office.

Two shilling bogus dabs, please. Two shillings, is it?

There we are, my dear.

Thank you.

Lovely day, isn't it? For those of us time to enjoy it.

I expect you'll get much better weather here than we get in our part of the

country. I come from Wales.

You wouldn't believe the rain in Wales. We get a fair bit of weather here

ourselves. Yesterday now.

Very nasty day yesterday.

What part of Wales are you from?

Marchborough.

Do you know, now I come to mention it, we have someone there who comes from

part of the world. Her name is Evan.

Gladys Evan.

Gladys Evan.

She was in service at Tudor Cottage, but she wasn't a local girl. Came from

Wales. Went back there, too, to get married.

Robert's her name is now.

I say, you wouldn't have her address.

I borrowed a raincoat from her and forgot to give it back. Now, if I had

address, I could post it to her. Of course I know her address.

Sends me a postcard now and again.

She and her husband have gone into service together.

Oh, now, where did I put it?

Ah, here it is.

Mrs. Roberts, the vicarage, Marchbold.

Thank you. There she was at the vicarage all the time, looking after father,

looking after me. But now you can see how dangerous it was from their point of

view. You and Evans were actually under the same roof.

With Roger at large, it's still dangerous.

That's it.

Back to Marchbold.

Dash it all, you might have wakened a chap.

Do you know what time it is?

Do you?

There you are, rotting in bed.

Well, I was feeling a bit rough, that fool.

Well, you'll be feeling a lot rougher by the time I finish with you, my lad.

I've been giving a lot of serious thought to you, Badger.

I'm going to get Father to clear your debts, buy that garage, and put you in

manager.

I say, how spiffy.

Spiffy? On one condition.

that you make that Bentley go like a bat out of hell and get us back to

Marchbold in record time. Why? Why the hell?

Because Roger Basington French is still at large. Because we finally found out

who Evans is. I have a feeling something awful is going to happen if we don't.

Maddy, you're simply not trying.

We're only fast, so we'll take off.

That's it.

We're only seven miles from Egypt. There's an aerodrome there. We could

air traffic.

My dear girl. We'll be home in a couple of hours.

Anything you say.

I just can't get into one of those things.

Why are there not?

Well, you can't stop them and get out.

Oh, all right, you bring the Bentley.

Bertrand!

of Mrs.

Roberts and Roger Basington French.

Remember, we don't know where he is.

That's true.

Rage on the lawn!

Sammy, that was me daughter.

Come to think of it, that was me car.

Looks quiet enough.

What did you expect?

Royal artillery?

Come on.

Thank goodness you've come.

Moira. I'm so glad to see you. I didn't know what to do. What on earth brings

you here?

The same thing that brought you.

You know who Evans is, too.

It's a long story. Come inside.

Oh, no. Please. Before we go inside, isn't there somewhere we could go? A

that's safe?

I don't understand. Why?

You'll understand when I tell you.

Oh, please, Bobby, do come. If you don't, it may be too late.

I couldn't bear staying where I was.

I told them I'd rather go to a nursing home I knew in London.

It wasn't true, of course. I just wanted to get away by myself, where I wasn't

known and nobody would know where to find me.

I got on the train.

Just as it was starting to move, I went along the corner.

Moira? What is it? He's followed me. Who?

Roger. He's out there in the street with a woman with red hair.

It is Kate.

Be careful. Oh, please do be careful.

Oh, damn.

Now what do we do?

Has he gone?

Oh, it's dangerous, Bobby.

Horribly dangerous.

You're sure he was there?

Sure. If you only knew how that man frightens you.

Do break some more, I don't be such a rabbit.

Now, look here.

It's all right.

You can't do anything as long as we all stick together.

Now, sit down.

Drink your coffee.

I'll put sugar... Frank! Sorry.

useful thing, sugar bowls, don't you think?

Have you gone batty, Frankie?

What the devil are you doing? Taking a sample of this coffee for George R.

Bussner to analyze.

It's no good, Moira.

I was almost sure before, but then it came to me in a flash.

You put something in our coffee, didn't you, when you sent us out there looking

for Roger. The game's up, Mrs. Nicholson, or do you prefer Templeton?

If she denies it, ask her to come to the vicarage and we'll see if Mrs. Roberts

can identify her.

Why do you think she wouldn't come to the vicarage, you interfering bitch?

You both damned in hell before I let you take what's mine.

It wasn't me, I tell you. It was him.

It was him.

What trouble is there?

Nice cup of tea, my lady.

Thank you.

Vicar will be back late.

Thank you very much, Mrs. Roberts.

Uh, Evans?

Yes, well, it... However, did you know?

We didn't. It might have saved us an awful lot of bother if we had.

Well, Evans was my name before I married Robert. We went to a lot of trouble

finding that out.

Um, nothing wrong, is there, sir?

I mean, apart from this afternoon.

Mrs. Roberts, um, does the name Alan Carstairs mean anything to you?

Well, the gentleman wrote me the letter.

He wrote to you?

Yes, sir.

Wanting to see me, sir, about Mrs Templeton.

You see, I was in service with her before I come here with Robert.

Mr Carstead said, did I know that she was a dangerous international criminal

wanted by the police?

He arranged to meet me on my afternoon off, it would have been, but then he

never turned up, so I forgot all about it.

Anyway, my Mrs Templeton could never be anything so wicked. Very nice young

lady. Well, it was your Mrs Templeton who took a pot shot at us just now in

Orient Cafe.

Never. Mrs Robert...

When Alan Carstairs didn't turn up, but a body did, didn't that strike you as

odd?

Well, the man at the bottom of the cliff was called Pritchard.

I mean, why should a man called Pritchard be a man called Carstairs, I

And then those people, they came and identified him. Oh, the Caymans.

Yes, well, believe it or not, Mr. Cayman was your ex -employer, Mr.

Templeton.

I said to Roberts, I'd seen a man reminding me of Mr. Templeton. Nearly

me down, he did, in the village.

Small world, isn't it?

Not what we're used to at Marchport.

No. No, it's not, is it?

Still, no harm done, eh?

Three people dead and no harm done.

Oh, fair play, Frankie.

We weren't all that bright ourselves.

Well, I thought I did jolly well, considering I had no idea what was going

the past place.

The person I feel sorry for is Sylvia.

Maury will obviously drag Roger into it and there'll be an awful lot of

publicity.

This came for you, my lady.

Frankie, Tommy and I need your help.

Desperate circumstances.

We'll be at Meadoway tonight only.

Please come.

Sylvia.

I'm so glad you could come.

That tender heart of yours will be the undoing of you, frankly.

You never can resist an appeal for help, can you?

And before you start worrying, Sylvie and Tommy are quite safe.

They're both in California with Dr. Nicholson.

They may even make a match of it.

Would be nice if there were at least one happy ending, don't you think?

Won't you sit down now that you're here?

I don't have to tie you up this time, do I?

I take it I can't get away. The windows are shut and padlocked, the keys in my

pocket. This time there's no convenient skylight in the roof.

Unopened. Nothing up my sleeves.

No morphia, no chloroform. Makes a change.

Everyone thought you'd fled the country.

That's what they were meant to think.

They really would have been too stupid to try and escape while the hunt was on.

No, actually, I spent a couple of very interesting afternoons in the public

gallery at the Old Bailey watching Moira's trial.

Fascinating, wasn't it?

Would you like to know the truth about Moira?

Moira was an accomplished criminal by the time she was 15.

If you hadn't stopped her, helpless little Moira might have ended up running

biggest drug ring in the Western Hemisphere. With you to help her? A man

have some ambition.

You were in love with her?

Well, perhaps I thought I was for a time.

I was attracted by her.

Enormously.

We met in America.

Things were getting a little too hot for her here.

Well, and for me, actually.

So we decided to move the entire operation over here. That's why we

off to Dr Nicholson. Married her off?

Nicholson offered her a new name, a new country, a new identity.

And perfect cover.

A clinic where they cure drug addicts.

He didn't worry you at all? The effect you'd be having on innocent lives? My

dear Frankie, I truly believe that every man has the right to go to hell in any

way he chooses.

Like your brother, you mean?

Like Henry?

Just as you didn't like Moira.

I didn't like Henry.

He was a fool.

He didn't care about Meadoway.

I do care.

I love it.

That time I thought I wanted only two things.

Meadoway and the money to run it in the way it deserved to be run.

And to restore it to its former glory.

I nearly got both.

You stopped me.

But not in time.

Murder, my dear Frankie, is merely an acceleration of the natural process.

You're a monster.

Not cold, are you?

I wouldn't like you to freeze to death.

You were quite prepared to tip me into a quarry.

Oh, but I shouldn't have enjoyed it. Did you enjoy killing John Savage?

Savage was the goose that laid the golden egg.

Moira found him and set him up. She was travelling as Mrs Templeton at the time.

Well, you know how romantic boat trips can be.

Savage wrote a letter enclosing a photograph of his beloved and sent it to

friend, Alan Carstead. Who you pushed off a cliff in Wales.

I do wish you could have seen me as Savage.

I was superb.

The plot may have been Moira's, but the performance was all mine.

And Savage did die quite quickly.

I promise you.

Mrs Templeton conveniently disappeared abroad with the loot so that Moira could

reappear at the Grange to be welcomed home by her doting and totally

unsuspecting husband.

How a psychiatrist could ever trust a woman, I shall never understand.

Having forged your way into £700 ,000, why didn't you take the lot while you

were about it? No, far too suspicious.

No, the charity touch was my idea. Sounded so respectable.

Unfishy. And yet it was the charity touch, as you called it, that made Alan

Carter suspicious.

Well, yes, that and the most appalling piece of luck.

Some friends brought him down here for lunch.

He saw this picture of Moira, recognised it at once as the woman in the

photograph that Savage had sent to him.

It's the trouble with Moira.

Once seen, never forgotten.

Then he followed the trail to Chipping Somerton and then, like you, to

Marchport. And ended up with a broken back.

Not like you.

Do you realize, if your friend, Bobby, had been an even tolerably competent

golfer, you and I wouldn't be chatting here now.

Alan Carstairs would have died anyway.

His body would have been washed out to sea and no one would have been any the

wiser.

I must say, it was a bit of a blow when I realized he hadn't been killed

outright. I was in the most frightful dilemma.

It was just as well Bobby had to go herring back to Evensong.

Gave me just time to remove the photograph of Moira and plant one of

Cayman in its place.

We thought we were home and dry.

Then Bobby rocked the boat.

Why didn't they ask Evans?

Bobby knew about Evans, but he didn't know that Evans was at the vicarage.

we couldn't afford that link to be made.

So Moira drove down to Marchpold in Nicholson's green toilet, popped an

lot of morphia into Bobby's beer and thought that that was that.

When she came face to face with him in the grounds of the grain, she was so

genuinely surprised she nearly passed out.

Still, she put Bobby off the trail jolly well.

I thought.

Didn't you?

Meriway would have been a perfect setting for you.

Meriway wasn't you.

No, but it would have been. There were just two people in the way, Henry and

Tommy. A little boy.

A little boy who liked you, trusted you.

I wasn't going to hurt him.

Only kill him.

I wanted Meriway to have an heir.

My heir.

I wouldn't say that if I were you.

Anyway, before I decided what to do about Henry, Henry decided for me.

Fell off his horse.

Always was a rotten rider.

He had a lot of pain, so I introduced him to morphia.

Before long, he was an addict.

Our plan was to get him to the Grange as a patient. Once there, Moira would

organize his suicide or an overdose. I wouldn't be connected in any way.

Then you and your friend, Bobby, got suspicious.

So, exit Henry.

He didn't kill himself.

No, of course he didn't.

But... You were with me and Sylvia in the conservatory. Brilliant

my dear Frankie.

Sylvia was insisting that Henry should go to the Grange, remember?

I said I'd come back into the house and telephone once more. Of course, I didn't

telephone. I came straight to the study.

Henry was sitting at his desk.

I said, look here, old man, and shot him.

We'd have heard the shot.

No, there was an aeroplane going overhead, don't you remember?

I was immensely grateful. to it. Well, otherwise, I should have had to spin

awful yarn about bursting into the study a second too late, and there wouldn't

have been that lovely suicide note.

Forging that was easy.

Henry's hand had been trembling so much for the past few months, no one would

have remembered what his writing looked like.

Then I wiped my fingerprints off the gun, pressed Henry's hand around it.

I put the key of the study in Henry's pocket, and I went out, locking the door

from the outside with the diamond key which fits the lock.

Then I rejoined you and Sylvia in the conservatory.

But you were with me when I heard the shot.

Yes, I was.

I placed a bullet in the fire. It gave me just long enough to get back to you

and Sylvia before it exploded.

I slipped back in here later and removed the evidence.

I really was quite pleased with the result.

The fact that Nicholson happened to come by at just that moment was a bonus.

And you should have realised only a thoroughly innocent man could have

quite so suspiciously.

I'll remember next time.

Next time?

Of course, Bobby's night errantry, wanting to rescue Moira from the

her evil, plotting husband, was a bit difficult.

That's why Moira came off down to the cottage.

I'm jolly grateful I was to have her around, too.

Mind you, you were splendid.

I really thought you had me that time.

How did you get away?

Moira, she knew from the noise upstairs that something had gone wrong. She was

drugged. She injected herself with a large dose of morphine, knowing it

take immediate effect.

Then, while you were phoning the police...

She slipped upstairs and cut me free.

But Bobby had locked the door.

One door was locked, but there are two.

Looks like a cupboard, I know, but it isn't.

The morphia began to take effect, and by the time the doctor arrived, she was

genuinely off.

Terribly unsubtle, all that stuff with the coffee, I know.

But then she had to get you and Bobby out of the way, don't you see?

And then again, perhaps she knew how I was beginning to feel about you.

Why have you got me here?

Because I couldn't bear the thought of life without you.

Without Meriway.

So I thought...

Perhaps a fire.

We'd be found clasped in each other's arms in the smoking ruins of the

home.

It's all right.

I'm far too much of a coward.

And far too much of an optimist. No, it's the fast car from here to the

thought I'd borrow the Bentley. The Channel Crossing, or who knows, perhaps

an Atlantic one.

only to reappear on another continent with a new identity and try to make good

all over again.

Or should I say bad?

With your share of Savage's money.

No, no, Moira had kept that.

I was to get my share when I married her.

So, here I am, you see.

No money.

No girl.

Your affectionate enemy.

The bold, bad villain of the piece.

Unless you come with me and make an honest man out of me.

Yes.

Well, that's what I thought.

So, I'll just walk out of here, lock the door. You're not going to leave me? My

dear Frank, you won't come with me, sir.

It's goodbye.

You really were a splendid adversary.

You won't get away with this, you know.

Who's going to stop me?

I will, for one.

If you ever get out.

I don't think so.

Do you?

Are

you

sure you won't change your mind?

No.

I didn't think you would.

No!

Bobby, what are you doing here?

You sent for me. I never did.

Oh, but I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you.

Oh, Bobby.

Bobby, let's get out of here.

I telephoned the castle, but nobody knew where you were.

Then I got this wire from you saying it was urgent to come at once. But frankly,

are you all right? Yes.

Yes, Roger was here when I arrived.

What? I'll tell you about it later.

Oh, but he really is a remarkable person.

Yes, well, I suppose you always had a fancy for him.

He had charm.

They had Moira.

Her face did sort of haunt me.

But then when we were in that attic together and you were so simply splendid

about things, she... Well, she just faded away.

You were so frightfully plucky.

I wasn't feeling lucky.

But I did want you to admire me.

Oh, I did, darling.

I always have.

That's all you'll get.