Original subtitles

You know, sometimes I wonder whether bringing you into the world wasn't a

of professional effort.

How many times have I told you? It's all in the mind.

Sorry, Doctor. I get worse every day.

Decide where you want the ball to go.

Imagine it there.

And then... Hit it.

Like that.

I promised Dad I'd play for Eden Song.

I should be all right for another couple of holes anyway.

Let's see if we ever get this one, please.

Oh.

Of course, if you have no imagination, I suppose it doesn't work.

I thought I heard a shout.

I hope it didn't hit anyone.

The ball can't possibly have travelled that far, can it?

Not if the precedent is anything to go by.

Ah, here it is.

Good. Good?

I mean, it didn't hit anyone. And it's unlikely to be hit by anyone.

Try getting it out of there.

Not that one. This one.

Now, if you can't manage with that, you better put the wretched thing out of its

misery. Pick it up and throw it.

Decide where you want the ball to go.

Every time I'm close to the edge, I do that.

Every single time.

Are you going to try and get him back? If I can see it anywhere.

Doctor, quickly!

Look.

Can we get down to him?

There's a path further along.

He's still breathing, I think.

Yes.

Nothing to be done.

His back is broken.

I'll go for help.

Is there anything we can do?

Too late now.

His pulse rate is weakening fast.

He'll last about another 20 minutes.

Get that.

I'll stay.

There'll be no pain. No pain at all.

I'll be as quick as I can.

Why?

Beastly thing to have.

Grim.

Nothing I can do.

Well, actually, there is.

But not for him. For me.

You see, the thing is, I've got an appointment to fix, and... You don't

leave? Well, I know the poor chap's dead and all that, and there's nothing one

can do but all the same. Don't you worry, old man. You cut along to

is. I'll stay till they get here.

My name's Roger Basington French, by the way. Come down to see about a half.

Bobby Jones?

Like the golfer.

Not a bit like the color.

It's five minutes past, Vicar.

You will not give him five more minutes, Roberts.

Wretched boy.

Punctuality may be the politeness of princes, but not apparently my pet.

The feast of St. James the Greater.

We shall now sing, unaccompanied, I'm afraid, hymn number 557, For All

Thy Saints, a noble song.

If you cannot do a thing properly, my dear Bobby, it's far better not to do it

at all.

Thank you, Mrs. Roberts. That smells quite delicious.

I know that most of your friends have no idea of time, but there is one who must

never be kept waiting.

For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.

Amen.

I'm sorry, Dad, but it really wasn't my fault.

I was keeping guard over a corpse.

You were what?

keeping guard over a poor blighter who stepped off the cliff.

He must have gone straight on and over.

Was he killed outright?

No, unconscious.

He died just after Dr Thomas had gone for help.

Well, I felt I couldn't just push off and leave him, so when another fellow

along, I just passed the job of chief mourner on to him and legged it here as

fast as I could. Will nothing, not even sudden death, shake your deplorable

callousness? Everything, however solemn, appears to be nothing but a joke to

your generation.

Oh, it isn't like that really, Dad.

I hate to say this for you, but eight months now since you were unfortunately

invalided out of the Navy, it seems to me you're losing your grip of things.

There isn't much to grip around here, Dad. Exactly.

I think it's time you thought about finding yourself a job.

Well, actually, I may be on to something.

I'm going up to London tomorrow to have a look.

I'd prefer to have heard of it.

Yes, well, I thought I'd better find out more about it first.

Good prospect.

I'm thinking of going in with Badger Beedon.

My dear Bobby, you can't be serious.

His great -aunt died and left him 300 pounds.

He's taken a lease on a garage, second -hand cars, that sort of thing. Young

Beedon is completely irresponsible.

He's never done a hand's turn in his life.

That's not fair, Dad.

It's just that he's not had much luck.

Luck?

Divine intervention would hardly compensate for his complete lack of

application.

When he started that chicken farm, what happened?

Foul past.

And when his uncle set him up in a stockbroker's job in the city, what

Fired. And when his father and his mother sent him off to Australia, what

do then?

Came back.

Exactly. Well, Australia... Well, how long are you proposing to be away?

Back the day after tomorrow, Dad. That's all.

Well, it grieves me to see this, Bobby.

But I fear you will not go with my blessing.

I didn't think that I would.

Badger.

Badger.

I know practically nothing about cars.

Oh, it doesn't matter, old chap. I tell you, we're bound to succeed.

Put a lick of paint on and that's all the orphanage will notice it.

Pretty, don't you think?

It, uh, it, uh, slips a bit, that ball.

Yeah.

I see why I need you.

I'm most frightfully sorry.

Robbie.

Robbie.

I haven't seen you for ages.

Well, I haven't seen you.

Are you planning to spend the entire journey on the floor, or are you going

sit down and talk to me?

Tickets are the wrong colour.

Leave it to me.

Everything all right, your ladyship?

Yes, perfectly, Inspector.

Well, my friend Mr. Jones has just popped in to see me for a bit.

It won't matter.

The gentleman won't be staying for long, I expect.

I shan't be round again till after Bristol.

What can be done with a smile?

Nonsense.

Father's habit of tipping everybody five shillings whenever he travels is a

buzzard.

I heard you'd given up the Navy.

Didn't act, did they? Not at your age.

I... You've always had trouble with your eyes.

I heard you'd given up Wales for good.

After the party I went to last night, I thought even a castle couldn't be worth

it, in spite of the draughts in the bathroom.

What was the matter with it?

Nothing, really.

Just like any other party, I suppose, that was it.

It's hard, isn't it?

And little to worry about.

the choice of houses to live in, hideous family duels, creditors' shops.

It's all families, isn't it?

What is you, do you think?

Oh, Mr.

Lange.

I'm too tired of everything, aren't you?

No, not really.

I don't get the chance.

By the way, what's all this about a man falling over the cliffs?

Oh, yes, poor devil. Dr Thomas and I found him.

How did you hear about it?

In the paper.

It doesn't say anything about you and Dr Thomas, though.

Well, no.

No, it wouldn't, would it? What does it say?

Fatal accident on Welsh coastal path.

The victim of the recent tragedy, Marchabult, was identified late last

means of a photograph he was carrying.

The photograph proved to be that of Mrs Leo Cayman.

Mrs. Cayman was communicated with and journeyed to Marchville, where she

identified the deceased as her brother, Alex Pritchard.

Mr. Pritchard had recently returned from Siam.

He'd been out of England for ten years and was starting on a walking tour.

Inquest will be held in Marchville on Monday.

I believe I shall have to give evidence.

Bobby has?

Really? I shall come and listen to you.

I suppose maybe they pushed him over, did they?

Pushed him over? Good Lord, no. Why?

Well, it makes it much more exciting, wouldn't it?

Life was not then extinct.

No, no, no. Deceased was still breathing.

There was, however, no hope of recovery.

A man's back was broken.

There were no signs of any violence such as might have been administered by a

third party? I can only say that all the injuries present are such as would have

been occasioned by a man falling on the rocks 50 or 60 feet below, sir.

There remains, then, the question of suicide?

That is perfectly possible.

Whether deceased walked over the edge or threw himself over is something about

which I cannot give an opinion. Thank you, Dr. Thomas.

That will be all.

Lieutenant Robert Jones.

Cry, you say?

What sort of cry?

Well, I mean, a cry.

A cry for help?

Oh, no.

No, more a sort of shout, you know.

In fact, I wasn't quite sure that I'd heard it. A startled kind of cry.

Oh, that's more like it.

Sort of sound a fellow might let out if a ball hit him unexpectedly.

Or if he took a step into nothingness when he thought he was on a path.

That's it exactly.

Thank you, Mr. Johnson.

Mrs. Leo Kamer.

I swear by almighty God, the evidence I shall give shall be the truth.

The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

You are Mrs. Amelia Cayman of 17 St. Leonard's Gardens, Paddington.

You are related to the deceased?

He was my brother.

Mr. Alex Pritchard.

Mrs. Cayman, when did you last see your brother?

The day before.

The day before he fell.

He said he was going on a walking tour of Wales. He had only just recently

returned to this country from the east.

He was so looking forward to it.

He was in a happy and normal state of mind?

Yes. He had no money troubles or troubles of any kind in his life

Well, there was no sign of it.

What was his profession, Miss Higgins?

Prospecting.

Well, that's what he called it.

He was very seldom in England.

You know of no reason at all which might have caused him to take his own life?

Thank you, Mrs. Freeman. I don't think we need to stress you any further.

Members of the jury, it is your task to decide how this man came by his death.

Sorry I was late. I caught you all bit, though. I thought you were charming.

You made it sound like school concerts. Well, there's little enough to do down

here. An inquest was a perfect concept.

Mind you, your death by misadventure was a bit of a dodo.

I'd hope it was an official foul play. It all seemed regrettably

straightforward.

I would never have believed it.

What? The girl in the photograph I found could end up looking like that.

Well, it looked exactly like her. The photograph was touched up, that's all.

If they were so touched up, you wouldn't have known them for the same person.

Anyway, where did you see it?

In the Marchbowl Times.

It probably reproduced badly.

It seems to me you're absolutely batty over a painted -up, rattled bitch. Yes,

said bitch like the Cayman woman.

Frankie! Well, you shouldn't be so ridiculous.

What is ridiculous is to quarrel about the damned woman. How about against golf

tomorrow? You can't be as bad as you used to be. Can't I?

No, I'm not sure I'm all that keen on golf at the moment. That's how all this

started. Well, who knows? You may be lucky.

Perhaps there's a lunatic at large, a pusher of people off cliffs.

Will he strike again? Does Bobby Jones, the vicar's son, hold the key to the

mystery that's terrifying the inhabitants of this sleepy little Welsh

Go home.

And party?

At the golf club.

I still think it looked exactly like...

Ah, there is Bobby.

Bobby?

I do hope you'll forgive the intrusion, Mr. Jones.

My husband is arranging for my poor brother's body and... Well, I was just

wondering... Mrs. Cayman was wondering if you had anything else you could tell

her.

Yes, you see, I know you tell the coroner everything you could.

But, well, I did just wonder if there was some small personal thing.

You do understand, don't you?

Absolutely. Oh, absolutely.

You see, I still can't believe it.

Poor Alex.

Poor, poor Alex. Oh, I know.

Absolutely grim.

I think it's a little chilly in here. Perhaps I'd better put a match to the

fire.

You see, if he had left any last word or message, I should like to know it.

It would mean so very much to me.

As a matter of fact, he didn't.

Nothing at all?

No. Well, as a matter of fact, nothing at all.

Merciful to pass away, unconscious, without pain.

Yes, well, that is something to be thankful for.

I did say that I would meet my husband back at the hotel.

You must put your trust in the great healer time.

You're sure you wouldn't like us to walk you over to the hotel?

Oh, well, that's very kind of you, but I should like a few moments to be alone,

you know.

Goodbye, Mr. Jones.

Goodbye, Mr. Jones.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Really, Bobby, you had a tolerable education.

In moments of stress when an unfortunate human being demands worth of comfort.

Is that the best you can do?

Absolutely grim.

I'm sorry, Dad, but I didn't know what to say.

Well, it's all very well for you. You're doing it all the time.

I don't know what you mean.

Kettle's on, Vicar. Tea won't be a minute.

How was styling, Mrs. Roberts?

Oh, Mark, it won't be worth going too soon. A few stalls every week.

Mrs. Roberts, have you seen last week's copies on Marksville Time?

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Bobby. I thought you and the vicar were finished with it.

I used it on the fire.

I don't suppose it matters.

You see, you can do it when you try.

Well, at least it didn't go into the sea this time.

Good Lord.

What? I just remembered something.

Well? That woman, Mrs.

Cayman. When she came round yesterday and asked if the fellow had said

before he died, I told her he hadn't. He hadn't? No. No, I've just remembered

now. He did.

But it wasn't the sort of thing they meant. That's why I didn't think of it,

suppose. What did he say?

He said, why didn't they ask Evans?

What a funny thing to say.

Nothing else?

No. He just opened his eyes and said that, quite suddenly, and then he died.

Well, I wouldn't worry about it. It wasn't important.

No.

Still, I wish I'd just mentioned it. Dear Mrs. Kamen, I have just remembered

that your brother did actually say something before he died.

I think the exact words were, why didn't they ask Evans?

I apologise for not mentioning this yesterday, but I attach no importance to

words at the time, and so, I suppose, they slip my memory.

Yours truly, Robert Jones.

Just go into the shop, Mr. Bobby.

Oh, Mrs. Roberts.

Mrs. Roberts, would you be kind enough to put this in the pillar box for me?

Oh, it's no trouble.

Forced in a few for the vicar anyway.

Well,

I'm damned.

Really, Bobby?

Oh, sorry, Dad. Forgot to order.

But somebody's offered me a thousand a year.

What did you say, a thousand?

A thousand pounds?

Hold in wonder.

But that's quite impossible.

A bit unlikely, I agree, but not impossible. Who are these people?

Some shipping firm in Buenos Aires.

I've been highly recommended.

They don't pay by whom?

Remarkable.

Remarkable. They must be complete lunatics, I agree. Nothing of the kind.

The South American firm obviously realizes the value of a young man of

integrity.

Same, Dad.

Why me?

Well, ex -officer of the British Navy, Vickers, son.

They want you to telegraph your acceptance immediately and be ready to

Buenos Aires within the week.

Well, it's another sort of notice I grant you. Dad, I can't.

What on earth do you mean? Well, I'm... I'm fixed up, aren't I?

With Badger. Even Badger Beedon can't be such a complete ass to imagine you're

going to turn down an offer of £1 ,000 a year. No, good, Dad, I can't let him

down. He's counting on me. Why is he counting on you, will you tell me that?

Well, I'm... Simply because he knows that you're as big a fool as he is.

A beautiful new car They wouldn't believe me

They wouldn't believe me Really, Robert.

Oh, sorry, Dad.

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child.

Haven't you anything to do?

Tell you the truth, Dad, I'm a bit bored.

I thought I might go for a walk.

You're part of a good young man.

Just 12 miles or so across country.

Thank you.

graveyard suggestion about them, I'm afraid, but the choice was singularly

limited. I thought you were in London.

My dear, as soon as I heard about you, I tore back.

It's most exciting to have a romantically poisoned friend.

I don't know whether morphia is so very romantic.

I hope you realise you're now gazing upon a medical phenomenon.

To listen to you, I would think nobody had ever been poisoned before.

Well, if you have been poisoned with eight grains of morphia and got over it,

dash it all, Frankie. You don't seem very impressed.

Spare a thought to the people who poisoned you. Whatever for?

Must be pretty sickening to them.

Well, that morphine, there you are, alive and kicking.

I never thought of it like that.

Do you know Dr Thomas thought I'd done it deliberately?

Deliberately? Yes.

He says anybody who plays golf the way I do should be forgiven for taking the

easy way out.

Someone must have put the stuff in my beer while I slept.

Apparently, even the dregs were lethal.

Which just goes to prove that what I said on the train was true.

What did you say?

That that man Pritchard, or whatever his name was, didn't fall over the cliff at

all. He was pushed.

Oh, Frankie. Well, it's obvious, darling.

I mean, who would want to put you out of the way?

Having any enemies that you know of?

Well, there you are, then.

Where? Well, it must have been something to do with Pritchard.

You had seen something that you weren't supposed to see, or so they, whoever

they are, think.

Bobby, well, has anything else out of the ordinary happened?

Well, there was that letter offering me a job for a thousand pounds a year in

Buenos Aires.

People I'd never met.

Well, there you are then.

First they try to get rid of you by offering you a job abroad, and then when

that doesn't work, they have to put you out of the way altogether.

But what on earth is it I'm supposed to have seen?

Oh, well, that's a difficulty, I agree.

And anyway, if I had seen anything, I would have said so at the inquest,

wouldn't I?

Well, I'll have to go away and think about it.

And do I kiss you or don't I?

It's not catchy.

Then I'll do my duty to the six, suddenly.

Magazines and papers.

I'm sorry they're a bit out of date.

And I'll see you tomorrow.

I'm ever so sorry, Lady Frances, but could you come back? I think Mr Jones

had a relapse.

What a bit.

What on earth's going on?

This is a copy of the Marchville Times you left me. The one I never saw.

Look.

Portrait found on the dead man by which he was identified.

Mrs Amelia came in the dead man's... That isn't the photograph I put back in

dead man's pocket.

It isn't? No.

That means that... Either there must be two photographs... Which isn't likely.

Or... Or someone took the photograph that you saw and put another in its

That man that came along after Pritchard had died.

Basington French, if that's his name. Oh, come on, Bobby.

Basington French is hardly a name one's likely to make up.

What was he like?

I didn't notice him particularly.

He said he was a stranger down here.

And something about looking for a house.

Bobby, have you thought?

If Pritchard was pushed, Basington French is probably the man who did it.

He seems such a nice fellow. Yes, but if it was murder, then it all fits.

You turn up, you're not supposed to. You find the photograph, you're not

supposed to. They had to do something.

It won't work.

Why not?

If it was the photograph that was so important, whatever was going to be done

about me would have been done at once.

Otherwise, the chances are that I'd have seen this copy of the Marchbold Times

and immediately said, that isn't the photograph I saw.

Why wait until after the inquest to have a go at me when everything was nicely

settled?

Oh, and there's another thing.

Basington French didn't appear until after I'd put the photograph back in the

dead man's pocket.

Damn.

So it's got to be something they didn't know till after the inquest.

I don't know why I keep saying they.

I do.

Because the Caymans must have been in it as well.

Of course.

I bet she isn't even his sister.

Well, it puzzled me all along.

I mean, the dead man, whoever he was, was a gentleman.

Mrs. Cayman was in a different class altogether.

But if he isn't Mrs. Cayman's brother, then who is he?

And why was it so important he shouldn't be recognised?

And why was the portrait of Mrs.

Cayman put into his pocket?

And the portrait of the fair unknown removed.

Was she fair?

She was very pretty.

Would you recognise her again?

Oh, I'd know her anywhere.

Bobby... Hmm?

What was it that Pritchard said just before he died?

Why didn't they ask Evans?

But you didn't tell the Caimans that, did you?

As a matter of fact, I did.

You did?

Yes.

Yes, I wrote to them that evening, saying it was probably quite

they wrote back, politely agreeing, and thanking me for taking the trouble.

I felt rather snubbed. And two days later, you get a letter from a strange

bribing you to go to South America.

Yes.

Well, what more do you want?

Look.

Look at it from the Cayman's point of view.

Everything's gone off well.

Body successfully identified.

Verdict of accidental death.

Everything in the garden lovely. Then you come along and mess it all up.

Why didn't they ask Evans?

I don't see how that could put the wind up anybody.

That's because you don't know.

So what do we do now?

Check up on Basington French.

I believe a friend of mine was down here the other day. A Mr. Basington French.

He was looking for a house.

making inquiries about various properties with a view to purchase.

He was obliged to return to town the next day, so he couldn't view many of

houses we have to offer.

Since he left, one or two highly suitable properties have come onto the

and I've sent him on particulars to Merroway Court, Stavely, Hance.

But I've had no reply.

He's guilty.

He's definitely guilty.

You still go to a house agent at 6 .30 in the evening, then up to London the

following day. Why make the journey at all?

Why not write?

I must say, you've done jolly well so far. That's not all. After that, I

Inspector Williams. Oh, what did he say? He said the deceased had very little on

him. One handkerchief not marked, some loose change, a packet of cigarettes, a

couple of treasury notes, no letters, and just one photograph.

Not the one I saw.

Didn't he say anything else? Yes, could he borrow the castle grounds for the

police base? Oh, and there was a car scene in the Vincente the day that you

appointed. A dark green Talbot saloon. Did they get the registration number?

Well, no, not quite. It was Gigi something or other.

There must be hundreds of dark green Talbots in England. Almost as many as

are Evans in the Marchville directory.

480. I'm thinking of taking it for my text this Sunday.

And he that was dead came forth.

Well, Lazarus, you know, seems a little deposite.

Oh, I beg your pardon, Lady Frances, I didn't see you. I've always thought

everyone must have been perfectly furious with him.

Lazarus, I mean.

Oh, there he was, safely tucked away, all that wailing and gnashing of teeth

going on, then suddenly he's up and about making everyone look silly.

It was a miracle, Lady Frances.

Oh, good day, Doctor. How are you? Let me take your gloves.

You're very kind, very kind.

This way.

Doctor, please.

Just come to take a look at him.

Time you're back on the golf course, young man. I'm reduced to playing with

people who can play.

Yes, and Luke, of course.

Thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the giant.

I hardly think that applies to Bobby, do you?

Well, no, perhaps not.

What about that child that Elisha raised from the dead?

Oh! much more fun than Lazarus. I mean, he opened his eyes and sneezed seven

times. As far as I can remember, our dear Bobby didn't sneeze at all.

If he gives you any trouble, Mrs. Roberts, just let me know.

No, you won't do that, Doctor.

Thank you, Dr. Thomas.

Ah, you're off, Doctor.

Oh, I must get in a few holes before surgery.

The doctor says I should be fit enough to go up to London next week. Good. Ma

'am? Oh, please.

I thought you didn't approve of my going in with old Badger.

Easier to check up on the Hampshire -Basington Frenchies from London than

this remote outpost of the British Empire.

Bobby, this is George Arbuthnot.

He's the doctor.

And we shall need him for a little scheme that I've got on.

Shall we?

You also need a car.

One of yours, Aldous.

You mean you want to buy one of our cars?

Yes. Well, that's really very nice of you, Frankie, but I do actually draw the

line in taking advantage of my friends. You've got it all wrong, as you know. We

really do need a car. What about the Bentley? Bentley's not the port I want

for. What's that?

Smashing it up.

I don't think I feel very well this morning. She means she's going to have

accident. How does she know?

There just be me.

The last time I saw you, you were head down in the mud and we had to pull you

out by the legs. My dear, you haven't changed a bit.

Well, this time I've had it put under my own deal.

Frankie wants to buy one of our cars.

Oh, two cars.

George has got to have one, too, and he's crashed his at the moment. We can

him one. Well, come and have a look at what we've got in.

Stop. Uh -huh.

They're very smart.

Oh, yes. They look all right. That's the idea.

Now, this, this is remarkably good value in, uh, in this second -hand, uh...

Trajan? Yeah. Oh, no. No, not that one.

The optic's still got a bit of mileage in it.

Uh,

and the standard should last another week or so.

Hmm.

All right.

I'll take the standard.

Now, will someone please tell me what's going on?

Roger Basington French.

I'm on the track.

Meriway Court belongs to his brother, and he lives there with him and his

American wife.

Whose wife?

The brother's, of course.

The point is, how am I going to worm my way into the household?

Why you?

Why not me?

Or both of us? Because my dear child, Basington French knows you, and he

know me from Adam.

And I'm in a... Rightfully a strong position, because I've got a title.

Very useful things, titles.

George and I had been down to the village, had a look round.

Strangers arriving there would simply sit on my arm, so we developed a plan.

Who has?

Me and George.

Now, this is what's going to happen.

We're actually going to sell this to someone.

All it needs is a bit of work.

It needs a new engine.

a new gearbox, four new tyres and some brakes.

Let's hope the law of gravity still holds good and it gets down the hill of

own volition.

Frankie, are you sure you know what you're doing?

It's all beautifully planned, I told you.

George, off you go.

You're looking very pale, Frankie. Frankie, are you sure you're all right?

I made up hell.

Wouldn't want me carried into the house blooming with health.

Now, look, this is what you have to do. When George waves his handkerchief and I

wave mine, start her off.

I'll stay on the running board until the pace gets too hot, and then I'll jump

off.

Don't hurt yourself.

I shall be extremely careful not to.

It might complicate matters to have a real accident on the spot of a faked

He's there.

My turn.

Oh, by the way, I better not write to you direct. I'll write to George or my

maid and get them to pass it on.

Frankie, look after yourself.

I mean, don't do anything foolish.

Can I run around a bit and make myself dancing? You might as well. Here, give

your hat.

Concussion.

Bye, doggo.

What?

Oh, has there been an accident?

No. The young lady ran her car into the wall on purpose.

Is she dead?

Not yet.

She must be taken somewhere at once. I'm a doctor. What is this place?

Meriway Court.

Belongs to Mr. Basington French. You take her legs, I'll take her head.

I'll carry this lady in two. She needs to be attended to at once.

Shall I call the doctor? I am a doctor.

I happen to be parking in my car and caught the accident in Cairns.

Oh, in here.

Is she badly hurt? I can't really tell, but I'll examine her.

I'll be in the hall if you want me.

She looks terribly pale, poor child.

George, darling, this won't blight your career, will it?

I mean, it won't strike you off the register or anything like that, will it?

Probably, if it ever comes out, Daddy.

I won't get it.

Don't worry, George. I shan't let you down. By the by, you'd better be a

Christian scientist.

Well,

we don't want any other doctor examining you, do we?

Oh, George, you think of everything.

Now, you will be careful.

I shall be most circumspect.

You've got me into the enemy camp.

Bless you.

Now it's up to me.

I don't know whether it's the bang on the head or what it is, but I just don't

want to move.

I could lie here for days and days.

Well, I wish you would. It gets lonely here sometimes.

Tommy! Play it quietly.

Poor Lady Frances will never recover with you making all that noise.

Lady Frances is malingering. Actually, it's marvellous to see him playing and

enjoying himself.

He's had so many accidents recently.

Last winter he nearly drowned and then this spring he fell from his swing.

Roger was...

My brother -in -law was terribly upset because he was swinging him at the time.

You know, pushing him up high the way children love.

Well, he certainly looks splendid now.

Henry doesn't like him playing with the local children, but you see, there's no

one... Playing with the local children never did me any harm.

Quite the contrary.

Well, I know we're overprotective, but he is the only child. The son and heir.

It's understandable.

If anything were to happen to Tommy, I don't... Nothing will happen to Tommy.

Oh, Ron.

Lady Francis, may I present the Black Sheep family?

My brother -in -law, Roger. Roger, this is Lady Francis to win. Who made such a

marked impression on the park wall.

Roger, Roger, Roger, you're back.

And you brought my fort. Tommy, how many times have I told you? You mustn't ask

for things. Nonsense.

Promise is a promise, isn't it, old chap?

Well, don't you worry.

I've got your fort, and your cowboys, and your Indians.

They're all in the hall. Off you go.

Oh, Roger, you're spoiling me.

Henry, I'm there.

You're back, then.

Are you joining us for tea?

Tea?

No, I don't want any tea.

Watch must have stopped. What time is it?

Ten to four. It can't be.

I promise you, it is.

For God's sake, tell those children to go home.

It was getting chilly anyway.

I'll just close the window.

I must go back to my study.

Do some accounts.

Damned head gardener thinks I'm a fool. I have offered to do the accounts for

you. Have what abuse you'd be. Here today and gone tomorrow.

I'm sorry about... It must be very boring for him, my butting in like this.

Henry doesn't mind that.

Henry doesn't mind anything these days. I'll go and have a word with him.

Roger, I'm glad you're back.

the afternoon first.

Yes, sir. How many times do I have to tell you to bring it straight to me?

Very good, sir.

Put that hot on my desk. I'll deal with them later.

Dad! Oh, Bobby!

Is that you?

What are you doing here?

Had to come up to sort out that dreadful mess about the new hymn books.

I ordered three dozen in red Morocco.

And that fool Lewis sends me two dozen black.

How are you, Dad?

Is everything all right?

Everything is not all right.

That young woman who was taking your place...

Only temporarily, I trust.

Doesn't seem to appreciate the fact that congregations like ours like their

hymns taken at a leisurely pace.

Onward, Christian soldiers may have been written to help a group of small

children to climb a hill, but there's no reason why she should attack it in

quite such a vigorous manner.

Oh, good morning, Vicar.

Good morning, Badger.

I trust the venture prospers.

We sold three cars in five days.

Only one was brought back.

Our bloke said we must have given it an injection or something to get it going

at the first place.

Remarkable.

How are you keeping yourself, my boy?

No more trouble, Dad, if that's what you mean.

Oh, talking of which, a friend of yours was kindly inquiring for you.

A friend?

A tall, stooping man with very strong glasses.

He stopped me just as I was going into the vestry.

He seemed most anxious to know how you were.

I gave him your address.

I expect he'll be looking you up soon.

When was this, Dad?

Just a few days ago.

Would you like a cup of tea, Victor?

If you'll excuse me, I think I must catch the 1240 from Paddington.

Take care of yourself, my boy.

And you, Dad.

Oh,

that was a mistake.

You play a very good game. No, I don't. I'm too lazy to practice, but it's kind

of you to say so.

Lady Frances.

Oh, please. Please call me Frankie. Everyone does.

You'll think I'm quite mad, I know.

After all, I barely know you.

But I do feel I have to speak to someone about Henry.

And I feel I know instinctively I can trust you. Do you think you should?

Last night I caught you watching him.

You see what I see, don't you?

The abrupt changes of mood, his appearance, the eyes.

Yes.

Yes, I have noticed.

It's morphia.

I'm sure it's morphia.

Or some sort of opium.

Opium? I first noticed it about six months ago.

He was complaining of sleeplessness a good deal.

How he first came to get the wretched stuff, I don't know, but I think it

then. How did he get hold of it? By post.

I'm almost certain.

Like yesterday, for instance.

You saw how he was at tea time.

Something arrived in the afternoon post.

By dinner time, he was at... Different man.

Oh, Roger.

Where does it come from?

I know one thing.

No reputable doctor would let him have it.

Why are you telling me this?

I don't know what to do about Sylvia.

You think she doesn't know?

Either she doesn't know or she doesn't want to know.

If only he'd consent to go for a cure.

There's a place quite near here, actually, run by Dr Nicholson.

Canadian. A very clever man.

Henry likes him, too.

My, you two look as if you've been very energetic. Three sets, and I lost

everyone.

I hope you haven't let him tire you out.

I thought we might make up a party.

Ask the Nicholson's over.

You'd like Moira Nicholson. She's a pretty little thing, isn't she, Sylvia?

Well, men seem to think so.

Judge for yourself.

She has the most appealing eyes.

That's exactly what Alan Carthair said.

Someone who came down here a few weeks ago with some friends of ours.

He seemed quite smitten by her, didn't he?

Looks a little sad.

It's hardly surprising.

Living in a sanatorium surrounded by depressive and drug addicts can't be

of a life.

And either she worships her husband or she's scared to death of him. I can

make out which.

He's a very forceful man.

You don't like him?

No, I don't like him.

I don't like him at all.

Two loads of morphia turning up within days of each other. Can't... to be a

coincidence. But that would mean that Bassington French would have had to be

around in Wales on the very day Bobby was poisoned.

When was it exactly?

Let me think.

Tuesday I lunched with the Parkinson's and Wednesday was the first night of

new review. That was the 16th. It must have been the 16th. All you have to do

find out where Roger was on the 16th.

Oh, that's going to be very easy, isn't it?

Look, that run on the Black 7, bring the two across and you clear the King of...

I'm sorry.

It's maddening, isn't it? Quite maddening.

When you smile, are you sure we haven't met before?

Recently, quite recently.

Wasn't it that party of Lady Shane's at Claridge's? The 16th it was.

Oh, he couldn't have been there. The 16th was Tommy's birthday.

They had the most ghastly children's party.

I'd have got through it without Roger. I just don't know.

Besides, if I had met you before, I should never have forgotten.

That's the extraordinary thing about this place.

When nothing happens most of the time, the most trivial things become

Well, if you think this is quiet, you should try Wales.

Mind you, we do have the odd bit of excitement. We had a man fall off the

last month. We were all thrilled for the call.

Rotten for him, of course. But it did give us something to talk about.

Was that the place called Marchpole? Yes, that's right.

We live seven miles from there. What an extraordinary coincidence.

That must have been your man, Roger.

Your man?

I was actually in at the death.

Stayed with the body till the police arrived.

What were you doing there?

He had some absurd idea of buying a house down there.

It's not absurd at all.

I shall settle down someday.

When you do, settle down near us, not in Wales.

Didn't turn out to be suicide or anything, then? Oh, no, it was all

above board.

Didn't you see his picture in the paper?

I really don't remember.

I think I've got a copy in my bag.

It must have been awfully handsome, this Alex Pritchard.

Before he was dead, I mean.

Oh, yes, I remember.

He looks a bit like Alan Carstairs.

I said so at the time. There is a look of him about it, I agree.

There is no real resemblance, you know. Alan Carstairs, I've heard that name

before somewhere.

Perhaps he was at Lady Shane's on the 16th.

Oh, he's quite a suburbity in his own way.

He's a Canadian.

A naturalist, a big game hunter, an explorer.

Not that I know him all that well.

He came down here with some friends of ours, the Rivingtons, for lunch one day.

Very attractive man.

And he fell in love with Maura Nicholson?

With her photograph, yes.

It was his first time in this country, I believe.

Last year he'd been on tour through Africa with that millionaire man,

Savage.

You know, the one who thought he had cancer and killed himself.

Funny.

Yeah, Alan Carstairs, looking so like that man who fell over the cliff of

Marchburg.

It's less of a letter. I'd rather call it a shopping list.

It says, Dear George... Dear George... We'll get information about

Aaron Carster, John Savage, Bobby, he should grow a beard as soon as possible.

How soon?

You can also stick a beard on.

But it can also go away.

If Frankie needs you, you have to be ready.

I thought they were coming to play tennis this afternoon.

Well, they said they were.

My dear Sylvia, I'm the bearer of sad tidings.

Moira has a slight migraine. I'm afraid we won't be able to make up a set this

afternoon. Oh, my guest will be very disappointed.

May I introduce Lady Frances Derwent? Lady Frances and Dr. Jasper Nichols. How

do you do?

Lady Frances has created quite a stir in the district.

I have.

Earl's daughter survives unorthodox arrival at Meriway Court.

You know, there was one thing that intrigued me.

Yes?

The doctor who was passing. The one who brought you in here.

He must have had a most curious character.

To turn his car around before going to the rescue?

Sorry, I don't understand.

Well, young Reeves, the messenger boy, came from Stapley on his bicycle, and no

car passed him.

Yet he comes around the corner, finds the smash, the doctor's car pointing in

the same direction as he's going, towards London.

You see the point.

Good morning, Thomas.

Have I got a few more thoughts?

Oh, not today, I'm afraid, young man. Sounds most impressive.

I look forward to hearing all about it when you come to tea tomorrow.

Tea?

Thomas has made an assignation with my wife, didn't he tell you?

Tommy, have you been inviting yourself again?

No, of course he hasn't.

And I'll show you the rabbits.

Shall we say 3 .30? Oh, thank you, Dr Nicholson. I'll drive him over myself.

It's fond of children.

He says he's not, but Tommy's special.

I suppose he came to Tommy's birthday party then.

Oh, no, he was away that weekend.

Dear Bobby, I think it's about time you came down.

Get a chauffeur's livery, ours are always dark green, and put it down to

Father's Account at Harrods.

I hope you have the moustache under control, and remember your name is

It's all right, no -one will ever recognise you, people just don't look at

chauffeurs. Come down here and ask for me.

You'll have to put up at the pub and get what local information you can there,

particularly about a Dr. Nicholson who runs a place for dope fiends.

Several suspicious circumstances about him, like he owns a dark green Talbot

balloon, was away from home on the 16th when your beer was doctored, and is

altogether far too interested in my accident.

Au revoir, my fellow sleuth.

Love from your successfully concussed Frankie.

Oh, and P .S., I think I've identified the corpse.

I just don't like Tommy going over there.

You shouldn't have said he could go, then.

If Tommy ever found out what he does to those poor rabbits... What's the matter

with the rabbits?

Oh, he uses them for drugs, tests, experiments.

All that sort of thing.

What about the people?

Have you ever thought about the suffering and torment they go through?

Can you imagine what it's like to get used to a drug and then have it taken

from you?

People have gone raving mad.

And all you can think about are rabbits.

all right then, Hawkins?

Yes, my lady.

She's been thoroughly overhauled.

That's all right then.

Quite a bus you've got there.

Yes, sir.

You'll get some taste out of that.

I do.

You'll put up with the angler's arms instead, Willie Hawkins.

I'll telephone you tomorrow if I want the car.

Fancy a game of croquet before tea?

Only if you promise to let me beat you.

Has the young lady had many accidents?

More of a danger to herself than other people.

Ah, it's women, isn't it? Oi, woman behind the wheel.

That's hardly natural, is it?

Still, she's lucky to end up where she did. It's a nice house, Meriway Court.

Only big place around here, is it?

Well, it's the Grange.

Been empty for years until he was taken over by his Canadian doctor.

Nicholson, his name is.

There's a very queer goings -on up there, if you ask me.

Goings -on?

Well, there's... Themers don't want to be there.

And there's... Themers put away at the Grange by their relations.

Oh, I assure you, Mr. Hawkins, when moanings and groanings and shriekings

going up there, you wouldn't believe.

It's all right. It's quite all right.

What's the matter?

No, no, no. I want to help you.

No one can help me. At least tell me what it is that frightens you.

You must go now, please.

Mr. Hawkins?

Mr. Hawkins?

Oh, yes.

Sorry, I was miles away.

You're wanted on the telephone.

Lady Frances Derwent here. Is that you, Hawkins?

Yes, my lady.

I want the car, ten o 'clock, to take me up to London.

Very good, your ladyship.

It is a nuisance having to go up to London today, just because Father

see his daughter.

He's perfectly right.

I'd half thought of asking you to give me a lift.

That would be lovely.

But on second thoughts, I don't think I'd better go up today.

That wretched brother of mine's even odder than usual.

I don't want to leave Sylvia alone with him.

I can imagine how you feel.

You will be back this evening?

Yes, of course.

Well, I'll look forward to that.

Goodbye. You are coming back.

I told you this evening.

Promise.

I promise.

Don't worry, Sylvia.

She'll be back.

Right. I think we can talk.

Do you talk to Hawkins?

You're not Hawkins.

I know that, and it really is quite a train.

I mean, for instance, when does one say, my lady, and when does one say, your

ladyship? It's the sort of thing the real Hawkins knows, and I don't. I could

get caught out.

I think I'm multi.

It really is frightfully good.

It's also quite uncomfortable.

Now, I'm nearly certain that the dead man was someone called Carstairs.

Carstairs? Alan Carstairs. He was a big game hunter and explorer, and he was

brought down to the Basington Frenchies by some people called Rivington. And

I've found the original of the photograph.

Not the one in the man's pocket?

Yes. I mean, that's marvellous. Where?

In the grounds of Dr Nicholson's nursing home.

I'm afraid of that man, Nicholson.

I think he's definitely suspicious.

You mean you don't like him?

Well, Sylvia doesn't like him either.

Frankie, what do you think's at the bottom of all this?

Morphia.

Morphia? It's the only thing that you and I and Dr. Nicholson have in common.

I don't understand. It's too much of a coincidence.

First, someone tries to poison you with morphia.

Then Roger's worried his brother's a morphine addict. Then Dr. Nicholson

up in charge of a clinic who uses morphine.

What's more, on the day that you were poisoned, Roger was at Meriway Court and

Dr. Nicholson wasn't. And remember that he drives the dark green Talbot saloon.

Well, not exactly evident, I know, but I'll admit it fits nicely.

Almost too nicely.

And Roger?

What about him?

In what way?

Well, you've cast him as the villain of the piece, haven't you?

Not at all.

You worked it out logically, and you decided he must be the villain of the

piece. Of course, on photograph.

Yes. Roger was on that clifftop when the man went over. No one else could have

changed it. But that's all we've got against him, really, isn't it?

All? Oh, well, I know, but... Now I feel he's in it.

Frankie, you haven't fallen for Roger, have you?

No, sir.

Bobby, I just feel there must be some sort of innocent explanation.

I don't see how that can be. Especially now that we've found the girl in the

photograph actually in the neighbourhood.

That seems to clinch the matter.

Frankie, stop!

The question is, did Alan

Carstairs get the Rivingtons to bring him down to Stavely deliberately?

Or was it just chance?

Or was he simply on the track of the girl?

The girl?

She may have been abducted.

He may have come to England to find her.

That might explain why he was carrying the photograph.

If he tracked her down to Staverley, what was he doing in Wales?

Obviously, there's a lot we don't know yet.

Like Evans.

Evans? Why didn't they ask Evans?

I haven't had any clues about Evans's at all.

Evans Park, it must be to do with wealth.

When we get to London, I think we'll go to Brook Street, farthest away, and the

house is practically empty.

We can decide what to do about the Rivingtons there.

Rivington, Rivington builders, Rivington dental surgeon, don't think so, do you?

Miss Florence Rivington, Colonel H. Rivington, DSO, Tite Street, Chelsea,

that sounds more like it.

There are four more, but we've got to start somewhere, and I think Tyke Street

sounds as good a place as any.

But what are we going to say?

Oh, think up a few good lies, Frankie.

I'm useless at that sort of thing.

You'll have to go, you know.

Like this?

No.

No, it's a junior partner in a solicitor's firm, I think. Oh, that

most gentlemanly role. I was afraid you might think of something much worse than

that. Ah, just a minute. Ah, here we are.

Mr Frederick Sprague.

You are a young member of the firm of Sprag Sprag, Jenkinson and Sprag of

Bloomsbury Square.

They're for our solicitors.

I suppose you'll have to stick with that moustache.

I'm afraid it's sticking to me. And if you're borrowing for our solicitors,

you'd better borrow his clothes.

They'll sue me for false representation of whatever it's called. No, they can't.

The only living Sprag's about a hundred.

Oh, Sloane 0629.

Here, hold a second, will you?

He's a terrible snob and he's out of my hand. Yes, I know, but... Don't worry,

I'll fix him if things go wrong.

Good afternoon.

This is Sprague, Sprague, Jenkinson and Sprague. The young man who phoned from

your office said the matter was urgent.

Sprague.

Yes, yes, it is, rather.

It's about our client, Mr. Alan Castors. Oh, yes.

Perhaps he mentioned we were acting for him.

I believe he did.

But, of course, I know all about you, anyhow.

You do?

You acted for Dolly McTravers, didn't you, when she shot that dreadful

dressmaker man?

I suppose you know all the details.

We know a lot that never reaches the general public.

I suppose you must.

But tell me, did she really... I mean, was she really dressed as

that woman said?

The story was contradicted in court.

Oh.

Oh, I see. Well, do sit down. Thank you.

Mind you... Now, but, Mr Carstairs, he left England very suddenly, as perhaps

you know.

No, I didn't know. We haven't seen him since.

Mind you, I always had my suspicions about Dolly and the Trappers.

She did get off, Mrs Rivington.

Oh, but I asked you... To return to Mr Carstairs. You saw him last when?

Oh, six weeks ago, two months. I really can't remember.

But surely, I thought... Oh, yes, of course I can.

It is when we took him down to Staveley.

He'd just arrived in England and we were going to Scotland, so I said to Hubert,

let's take him down with us to the Basington Frenchies. They won't mind.

So we did, and of course they didn't.

He didn't know the Basington Frenchies? No, but I think he liked them.

Though something seemed to upset him. He was very quiet and moody on the way

home. But then, of course, he's a Canadian. Canadians are so awfully

don't you think?

You don't know what it was that upset him?

I haven't the least idea.

Did he meet any of the neighbours?

Go for a walk, anything like that?

No, it's just ourselves and them.

But it's odd you're saying that, because he did ask an awful lot of questions

about some people who lived nearby.

A doctor, something or other.

Nicholson? Oh, do you know him? Well, I have had... Oh, I must say, he sounds

absolutely fascinating.

Did Mr Carter know the Nicholsons?

No.

And that's what made it so odd, because he wasn't a curious man as a rule.

But he wanted to know all about them, how long they'd lived there, where they

came from, all that sort of thing.

Did he say why he himself was in England?

No.

But we thought, Hubert and I, that it might be something to do with that poor

millionaire friend of his who died so tragically. Now, what was his name? You

know. Savage.

John Savage.

Alan was very upset about that.

Do you know, some doctor actually told the poor man that he had cancer.

And he killed himself.

Disgraceful. I mean, only last spring our doctor told poor Hubert that he had

mumps. When all it was was swollen glands.

Thank God.

To return to Mr. Carstairs, we're trying to trace him rather urgently, you see,

and he hasn't left an address.

And when we heard him mention that he was a friend of yours, we thought you

might be able to help us.

Oh, I see.

Fred, I can't. We haven't seen him since.

Ah.

Well, thank you very much, Mrs. Rivington.

I do apologise for having taken up so much of your time. It's so interesting,

think, the way the legal mind operates.

And, of course, it's fascinating to know that Dolly McTravers really did.

Mrs. Rivington, I said nothing at all. Yes, but then you lawyers are always so

discreet, aren't you?

So what? I

wonder

where they all are.

If he wasn't expecting me back so soon, he's probably out pushing people over

cliffs.

I'll tell a parent when I need you.

Anyone in here?

I interrupted you.

I came back sooner than I meant.

Mrs. Basinger -French is very upset.

Yes.

I rather gather that.

She had to know the truth.

I want her to persuade her husband to place himself entirely in my hands.

And she should mention the matter to you. I hardly think she will do.

If she should, try to persuade her that it really would be best.

You see, an addict can destroy not only himself, Lady Frances.

He can destroy everything he loves best.

Tommy? Hello, Lady Francis. Can you play with me here?

I just wanted to see if my soldiers were all right.

Can you see?

They're just like in your father's book. Oh, yes, exactly the same.

I brought you some supplies, by the way.

Cavalry.

Cavalry! I just missed them.

Am I right, Father?

If she comes in on time.

Good day, Lady Francis. Good day.

What have you built up there again?

There are the defense positions against a surprise attack.

So they will hardly stand up to an attack.

I have already explained to you everything.

You always have to stand up in the rear guard.

When do you think the Indians will attack?

At sunrise.

Good, my boy. Then you have to put the main force in the direction of the

sunrise. But what do we definitely have to put up here, here and here?

Guard posts?

You say it.

You should never underestimate your enemies.

You said you'd help me.

Perhaps I shouldn't have come.

Of course you should have come.

I'll do anything, anything in the world to help you.

Oh, don't be frightened.

You're safe now. You must think me mad.

You must think me quite mad coming here like this.

It's just that I'm so frightened.

I'm so terribly frightened.

I know you're not mad.

I wouldn't blame you if you did, finding me in that dreadful place with all

those... Look here.

I know nothing about you at all.

Tell me.

Tell me everything. Tell me who you are.

You mean you don't know?

I'm Moira Nicholson.

Dr. Nicholson's my husband.

He's going to murder me.

Thank you.

I don't understand.

Why should your husband want to murder you? Because he wants to marry Sylvia

Basington French.

But she's married already.

He's arranging for that.

What do you mean?

He's trying to get Henry admitted to Grange as a patient.

And then?

Once he was there, something would happen.

What does Sylvia's brother -in -law think of this?

Roger. He's rather nice, I think.

But she's the sort of person who would be very easily deceived.

Jasper's working on him to try to persuade Henry to come to the Grange.

Don't let him come, please.

If he does, something awful will happen. I know it will.

How long have you been married to your husband?

Just over two years.

Haven't you ever thought of leaving him? How could I?

I've nowhere to go. I've no money.

People would think I was mad.

A poor person. A pathetic woman going around saying her husband was trying to

murder her.

I've seen it in his eyes when he looks at me.

Who would ever believe me?

Well, I believe you.

Thank you.

Oh, thank you.

Look, if I'm going to help, I've got to ask you some questions.

Did you ever know a man called Alan Casters?

Yes.

You knew him before you were married?

Yes.

Did you at some time or other give him your photograph?

Yes.

Has he been here to see you since you were married? A few weeks ago.

Did your husband know of this?

No. Are you sure?

I don't understand.

Would you say your husband was a jealous man?

Jealous? No.

Possessive? Yes.

Why are you asking me all these questions?

Look, there's a lot I have to tell you, but it isn't safe to go on talking here.

And besides, you've got to meet Frankie.

Lady Frances Derwent? I thought you were her chauffeur. The landlord said you...

Trust me, I'll explain about that too.

But we've got to find some place to talk where there's no danger of being

overheard.

Lady Frances, I'd like you to meet Mrs Nicholson, the original of the

photograph.

But I do see now why the sight of Mrs. Cayman at the inquest came as such a

shock to you.

I must be an absolute fool not to realise.

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand.

Oh, no.

No, of course you don't.

Look, I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you rather a shock.

This friend of yours, Alan Caster, she's... Well, you've got to know, he's

He fell over the cliff at Marchbolt, the place where I live.

I and the doctor there happened to be the ones to find him.

So that's why he never came back. He had your photograph in his pocket.

Dear Alan.

So, when I came face to face with you that night, you can imagine how I felt.

You recognised me very quickly.

When did all this happen? I think it was just after he came down here.

Did he mention anything about going to Wales?

You don't by any chance happen to know anyone called Evans, I suppose?

Evans? No, I don't think so. Why?

Just before your friend died, he regained consciousness and said... Why

they ask Evans?

It's a very common...

And then these terrible people, the Caymans, turned up at the inquest and

identified him as Mrs. Cayman's brother, Alex Pritchard.

And your photograph had gone, and this Cayman woman's was in its place.

Here in the east, we'll have the Comanches.

It says on the box there, Sue.

Well, it's the principle that counts.

Now, where's that cannon?

Do be careful, won't you?

Mother's never pointed to anyone, even though it's only clockwork. Quite right.

We'll put it here, I think, then we can really let them have it.

You do it, old boy, will you?

Just about there, I think.

Tommy.

Yes, Father?

I just wanted to say, if ever I seem a bit, well, you know, short -tempered...

It doesn't mean anything, you know.

Don't always feel very well.

Nothing personal, you understand?

I think so, Father.

Henry, I need to talk to you. I was just watching for the post, my dear.

He's not due for nearly an hour.

Tommy, if you go down to the kitchen with Merrick, we'll cast a surprise for

him. Come along, Master Tommy. What's the surprise, Merrick?

I don't want to spoil it myself.

And we think that Roger Basington French pushes Pritchard, or Carstairs, over

the cliff.

Roger? He was in the right place at the right time.

And more important, he was the only one who could have removed the photograph.

I'm sorry, but there's something I must ask you.

Ask away.

Well, I don't know how to put this without sounding... Well, did you really

down here by accident?

Or did you come because you suspect my husband?

I give you my word of honour.

We'd never even heard of your husband till we arrived down here.

Only, you see, I think my husband suspects you.

What a... Heavy -footed rabbit, probably.

What does your husband suspect?

Well, that your accident when you drove into the wall, that it wasn't really an

accident at all.

He's quite right.

It wasn't.

Wasn't?

I drove into the wall on purpose, and Bobby came down and pretended to be my

chauffeur. The whole thing was staged because Bobby wanted to, well, how does

one put it, get a line on Roger Basington French.

I'm sorry, but I think that's absurd.

Roger's weak, wild, perhaps, but pushing someone over a cliff, I mean, why

should he?

He and Alan Carstairs had only met once at lunch at Merroway Court.

There's no motive.

I just don't believe it.

And I don't believe it either.

The fact remains he's the only one who could have taken your photograph.

There's an easy way to settle it.

Why don't you ask him?

How on earth did you come to guess that?

You did?

Yes, I had to.

But why?

Well, now, here am I mounted guard over a stranger's dead body.

I see a photograph sticking out of his jacket pocket.

I look at it.

I can't believe it.

It's the photograph of a woman I know.

A married woman.

And a woman I suspect is not too happily married.

What's to be done?

An inquest?

Publicity?

I acted on impulse.

Took the photograph and tore it up.

So that's it.

If only you knew. Knew what?

I can't tell you at the moment.

But please trust me.

I do see now why you took the photograph, but was there any objection

that you recognised the man, that you met him down here only the week before?

My dear girl, are you quite mad?

Alan Carster.

You did meet Alan Carster.

The man who came down with the Rivingtons.

The dead man wasn't Alan Carster. Oh, but he was. You must have recognised

No, I didn't see his face.

He had a handkerchief spread out.

How beautifully incurious men are.

I feel terribly sorry for her.

Well, more any question. Why?

Being married to a man like that.

Yes, I know what you mean.

I don't much care for him myself.

And yet you want Henry to go to his clinic. Well, that's different.

That's professional.

What's more, I think Sylvia's about ready to agree. I spoke to her this

afternoon. Sit down, Roger.

I've got to prove to you that Dr. Nicholson is a dangerous criminal.

What?

And that your brother is in mortal danger.

Even if you're right, what does it prove?

Mind you, if you could show that Nicholson had been in Marchbolt on the

the cliff tragedy, or if you could find any definite motive linking him with

Alan Carstairs, it might be different.

It seems to me you're ignoring the real suspects.

Who? The people you say made the false identification in the first place, the

Haymans. Caymans.

Seems to me as if they're in it, up to their hilt.

I mean, look at their insistence on knowing whether the poor fellow said

anything before he died.

They obviously thought that your friend Bobby Jones was in possession of some

knowledge that was dangerous to them.

So they try to eliminate him.

Bobby says it's absolutely grim.

You don't think they'll try again if they get on his track?

Then we must get on to that first.

I can't think why we haven't done so before.

Now you know what Moira thinks her husband is after.

Do you still think your brother should go to the ground?

Oh, Roger, I've been looking for you everywhere.

Would you like me to... No, Frankie, don't go.

There's no point, is there? You know all there is to know.

I've been blind.

Blind.

You both saw what I never even suspected.

Or was it simply that I closed my eyes to it because I didn't want to see?

Couldn't see.

All I knew was that Henry had changed so, but I never suspected the reason.

But it's going to be all right, Roger.

He's agreed. He'll go to the Grange and he'll put himself and Dr. Nicholson...

No. There are other places.

Places not so near at hand.

But half an hour ago you were all for Henry's going to the Grange. Why have

changed your mind? It's simply that I've been thinking it over and I think there

are other places... Well, it's no good. I want Henry and Dr. Nicholson's care

and no one else's. Just let me telephone him one more time.

But I don't think in my mind, Roger.

I don't know how to apologize.

You must think of us. Sylvia, if I'm in any way an embarrassment, I'll go.

Oh, no, please stay.

Poor Henry.

He was so upset at my knowing. He cried.

He promised he'd do anything he could for my sake and for Tommy's. I'm sure he

will. Dr. Nicholson's warned me not to go on promises.

I've said such dreadful things about that man, yet when it was necessary, he

the one person who told me the truth.

We all change our minds sometimes, don't we?

Look, I know I haven't paid last month's bill, but you can't run a second -hand

car shop without spare parts.

I'm not asking you to throw good money after bad.

Just... But... Excuse me.

Just think of it as an investment.

The curtain's out. I left a minute.

Why, it's all done by this time.

You suggested it's planned, it's all been arranged, and Henry's been sent

Sylvia, I am Henry's brother.

What was that?

I'm the black horse.

Come back. I'll have to break now.

Oh!

Oh, God!

I feel this is the best way out.

It's too late. Can't fight it now, I know.

Want to do the best I can for Sylvia.

Sylvia and Tommy.

God bless you both, my dear.

I think you'd better let me take over.

Something happened to Henry. Look after her. Take care of Sylvia.

Everything's all right. Nothing to be done.

Death must have been instantaneous.

Poor fellow.

Obviously felt he couldn't play some music.

Drugs always end in tragedy.

Well, there'll have to be an inquest, of course.

I'll telephone the police.

Oh.

The... Key is not in the lock.

Or perhaps it's in his pocket.

This is Dr. Nicholson of the Grange.

Put me through to the police station at once.

I'd

better call

my chauffeur. The sooner I get... No, please.

Don't do that, Lady Frances.

Sylvia will need a friend with her tonight.

Preferably a woman.

If you think I can be of any help.

374.

This is Lady Frances Darwin.

Could you bring my chauffeur to the phone, please?

We must meet.

Tomorrow.

Same time, same place as today.

Frankie, are you all right? Oh, Lady Frances, will you give me a hand here?

Upstairs, please. Henry?

No, no, Sylvia, Sylvia, please.

Sylvia, please.

Come on.

Calm yourself.

Poor old Henry.