All language subtitles for The Gentle Touch s04e04 Auctions

Lot 29, a portrait of Pope Julius II,
known as the Hathaway Raphe from

Castle. A similar, though more
accomplished, work than the portrait in

Palazzo Fili in France.

I have several bids. I must have 500
,000 pounds, ladies and gentlemen.

550.

600 ,000.

650.

700 ,000. 700 ,000 pounds is bid.

750 ,000.

800 ,000 near me.

850 ,000.

New bid, 900 ,000 pounds.

950 ,000 near me.

At 950 ,000, it's against you, sir.

One million pounds, ladies and
gentlemen.

1 ,100 ,000.

It's against you, sir, at 1 ,100 ,000
pounds.

1 ,200 ,000 pounds.

1 ,300 ,000 pounds.

1 ,300 ,000 pounds. It's against you,
sir, at 1 ,300 ,000 pounds. Is that a

madam?

Let's go!

We've always got someone in there, ma
'am.

I know you speak English, Abdul. I've
been told. Information.

That's all I want. Now, come on.

We don't pull toenails out in this
country.

You're acting. You may not be so sure.

Oh, go on, go on. Get out.

Out.

Vamos.

Adiamos.

Come on, Abdul.

I'll fish with you.

Is that you or him, that whiff? Go on.

Ah, Philip, show this foreign visitor
out, will you?

Hey, go, go. Shoo, shoo.

Have you got an interview or something?

The present was today.

Oh, it's not Christmas.

Birthday. Oh, 29 again.

30 -something.

What, today?

Yeah. Ah, credit to the monkey gland
industry.

You know, Inspector, it's police work
keeps women young. Nice warm offices,

varied work, mixing with interesting
people.

Oh, shut up.

What a money -beater, Lance.

Yeah, Croft.

What? Yeah.

Yeah, that's what I said, sir.

Assaulting the WPC and causing a
disturbance.

Now, the point is, they're very
insistent. They say they've got

about a crime. Yes, we have.

Yeah.

Come on.

OK.

Right, interview room.

All right, ladies, no more of that,
please.

Aren't you locking us up? We will if you
kick WPC Sutton again.

Go on, give him a cup of tea. I want you
two to cool off before you're seen.

What the hell is this place? A
geriatrics advice centre?

Well, go and find out.

Ah, no, you go, eh? I'm busy.

And I'm not.

I'm at the Old Bailey this afternoon,
and I'm trying to finish this report for

the DPP.

No, no, this job needs a woman's touch.

You know, old ladies, frail, old people.

I suppose I frighten them.

Well, that'd be your fault.

Well, suppose they wouldn't talk in
front of a uniform.

I need a WPC when I'm interviewing
women, remember?

Sneaky.

Well, at least you can answer my calls
for me.

You know where it is when we want it?
Yes, Sarah. In your bag?

Yes, Sarah. We don't want them thinking
we're two batty old women who can't look

after themselves.

I've thought of it. Well, it won't be
the first time you've messed things up,

Ethel.

Who is it?

It's a woman.

We're not speaking to any young chit of
a girl, you know. We have some very

important information.

Is that so?

Right now.

Which of you is Ethel?

Miss Ethel Mead.

You can talk to me.

The Mrs.

Ethel and Sarah Mead Cathedral, close
Norwich. Is that right?

If it is, sir.

Well, now, what information might you
have? Ethel. I said you can talk to me.

But I thought Sarah always does the
talking.

Well?

Well, show her the cutting. Go on,
you're so slow. Where is it? I don't

We'll get a move on. Right.

Right.

Is she reading it?

Has she finished? She doesn't need it.
It's just, you know, being blind, she

gets a bit pernickety.

So will you be if you had to rely upon
such a stupid idiot.

Well? What has this got to do with the
sale today?

That was just a taste.

Of what? Of what we'll do if we're not
fairly treated.

Well, it says here that an anonymous
London dealer has almost certainly

succeeded in proving that a picture he
bought cheaply at Greville six months

is an unknown and very valuable
masterpiece.

Ah, before we sold it.

This undiscovered masterpiece belonged
to you? We were cheated out of it by

Greville. For a crippling sum, I might
add.

But it was all sold legally.

You haven't given her the catalogue. You
didn't say. Don't give... I don't know

when you should have. You're sorry.
Don't keep saying you're sorry.

Now then, has she got it yet? Yes, thank
you.

Lot 110.

I did put a marker in, Sarah. Well, how
should I know?

Have you found it?

Yes, yes. A picture of two men in a
garden, English school, 18th century.

We told the young man, didn't we, Sarah,
that it was French. But he wouldn't

believe it. It's been in our family for
generations, the French picture we call

it. Oh, no, madam, it couldn't possibly
be French. It's an English garden. I

mean, look at the inscription on the
statue's plinth.

It's in English. It's quite obvious that
Greville has been negligent, criminally

so.

£600 does seem to be a very good price
for a picture.

Rubbish. It's worth tens of thousands.

And who's going to benefit? Not us,
that's for sure.

Well, I don't know much about it, but
isn't that the gamble of an auction? Oh,

can't you understand?

Greville simply omitted to find out
about it. And we poor benighted

that we are will not receive one brass
farthing of its real value.

And that's the reason for the scene this
morning.

I told her we shouldn't. Well, that's
all we had left.

An impact.

Isn't that what people do nowadays?

Make an impact.

Which is going to land you both in
court.

Oh, we went through the blitz.

We are not frightened of a mere
magistrate. Yes, he was a magistrate.

brother, he wasn't in the slightest
fright. Don't. Stop dribbling. You are a

detective, I suppose.

Yes. And you, I suppose, want me to
detect.

We most certainly do.

Don't we, Ethel?

There you go. Oh, thanks.

Do you know anything about painting?

Emotional gloss.

Oh, God, you're too clever by half
sometimes.

Oil. Old Martin.

Oh, a bit, yeah.

What is it, those two old biddies of
rebels?

The reason they did it.

You know, they've got a story so far
-fetched it might actually be true.

That's what the Art and Antique Squad's
for. No, it's just a story for another

morning of gossip.

Well, you know what old ladies are like.

They say the house is on fire and it's
only footies stuck up in a tree. No, not

them. If there was, it would be a tiger
at the very least.

If I finish early at the Old Bailey, I
might pop round to Greville's and have a

look -see.

Don't tell me. You've got a hunch.

I don't believe in hunches, Peter. I'm
following up on information.

Oh, I don't know. I'm sick of it.
Perhaps I'll go tomorrow.

Thank you.

What can I have, sir?

Well, that's very civil of you.

Whiskey, water, no ice, sir.

You're at the old Bailey today? Yeah.

We in with the chance?

Defense counsel is our old friend
Lionel. You know what he's about.

I'd still like to see that young butt
that Taylor put away. Yeah, me too.

What is that?

It's what?

Perfume.

Mr. President, don't you like it? Not
much, no. What is it? I thought you had

taste. I think you must have a heavy
cold.

You've lost the sense of smell.

Charm, by the feel. You know, it's 30
pounds an ounce, whatever.

Steve bought you that for your birthday.
Well, I'm not inquiring too hard where

he got it from. I would if I were you.
It's not charm for a start. No, it's

No, it's not. Listen, I'm here to tell
you. I have been buying charm for Janie.

Birthday's anniversary is something like
20 years. That's not charm. It's

nothing like it.

Really? You'd better believe it. If I
were you, I'd ask young Steve where he

it, because he's certainly been done.

Happy birthday.

Cheers. Cheers.

Nice, thank you.

Thank you, Steve.

Did you play it?

Only once a year.

Now, where is it?

It's up there in the flowerpot.

Somewhere. Down this step.

There.

It's empty.

But it was here.

Not a closing down sale.

No, I'm trying to be helpful.

I thought you'd like what I gave you. I
didn't expect a third degree. I do love.

It's just that it's an expensive
perfume. You couldn't possibly have

it. You think it's knocked off? No. Oh,
that's terrific. Thanks a bunch. No.

I thought I'd buy another bottle, that's
all.

Come on home.

I've never seen any prices like it.

Bankrupt stuff.

Dirt cheap. Don't forget, it's only
going to be out today.

You can't go wrong. These prices today,
very, very cheap.

Please, five, you've seen nothing like
it. It's a bit close. I don't spit much.

It's all got to go today.

Bankrupt stock.

We're expecting a queen mother later.

Forget your wallets out. Right, back in
basement time.

I'll not tell you what's in it, but
who'll give me a quid for it?

All right, in place, 50p.

Hey, can you take us?

Yeah, clever man. Thank God somebody's
got some brains in his skull.

Now, show the lovely people what you've
got there. Beautiful presentation.

God, just look at that.

Good

morning,

Mr. Takata.

Good morning, Mr. Shosh. Excuse me.

Excuse me.

About that little scene yesterday.

Not treated very kindly by the press,
were we? You won't want to press

will you?

You were the one who got most covered in
that foam stuff.

I've had some inspector on. What do you
feel?

We don't want any publicity, do we? No,
certainly not. That wouldn't do.

Good lad. I've had to opt to pay dozens
of cleaning bills as it is.

Oh, by the way, I've told Diana to put
you on a list for the French Embassy

dinner. All right? Suits me. I'll see
you about eight o 'clock then.

Jolly good, Piers.

Thank you, my friends.

Remember, if it doesn't work, you know
where to find it.

Here. I'll tuck in a blanket.

See you in a minute. See you in a
minute.

You're nicking from the hotel store? I
mean, you can't be eating it yourself,

can you?

£40 a mince, half a dozen sides of
smoked salmon? No way.

They're our interview rooms, Bob.

What, unlock all that lockdown?

Well, look, I want to make some phone
calls. I need to chat with Jake. Look,

Maggie.

Maggie, I know that you are used to the
genteel lifestyle of old ladies, but

this is a nick, not a tea shop.

Me?

All right, but just make sure Charlie
here doesn't nick anything. Yeah, tell

Jack I want to see him, will you? Oh,
I'm sure this gentleman would love cup

tea.

Oh, yes.

Hello. I'd like to see Mr Sharkey this
afternoon, if possible. It's Inspector

Forbes again. Seven dial.

Yes, that's right.

Oh, yes, I can.

Oh, it was in the gents.

Morning.

I want you to find out where that comes
from. What is it?

It's not what it seems. It's fake. Steve
pulled off a bunch of con men on our

ground.

What? Yeah, it's getting worse, too.

You know where they are?

Well, go and see Steve. I'll give him a
buzz. He's got a fair description.

Oh, and they used a lock -up shop in the
garden. They must have got the key from

an agent who was in Middleman, Stockton,
Wright. Go and see them, too, wouldn't

you? I want them, Jake.

A bit embarrassing for you, isn't it?
Yeah, which is why I want it done

away from the ears of a certain
gentleman. Oh, yeah, I see.

Good.

How's it going?

What?

The other thing in Regent Street, the
break -in. Oh, we've got some prints

Very amateur, I doubt they're on file.

Ah, remember, what? Oh, yeah, yeah, as a
dead mouse.

Morning.

Oh, fuck, huh.

Sure, Mr Abdo, I really appreciate that.

Well, it is, of course, to be deplored,
that sort of behaviour.

Utterly deplored.

But you're not going to press charges?

What, Greville's hounding the elderly,
one of whom is blind, Inspector?

No, we've had enough publicity on this
already.

Over two million on one sale, he can
afford it. No, no, no, we don't want to

drag them through the courts.

Oh, well, let's just leave the thought
in an officer.

And don't worry, that was our side of
the street.

Inspector, I don't think you quite
understand.

Greville's has a certain reputation.

Of course, if this sort of thing
happened every day, which, God forbid,

might have to do something. But once,
no.

We pride ourselves on our discretion.

Do you know what it was about?

Oh, a shrewd idea.

Some complained against us.

It was a painting you sold.

Well, we sell a lot, Inspector.

Not all undiscovered masterpieces.

The Watto, I take it.

Look, I don't know much about it, but
you might feel that they have a

complaint. They never complained to us,
not until yesterday. If you should see

them, as I said, it's not my line, but
they feel certain that you should have

identified the picture.

They're not infallible, Inspector. Even
experts are only human. And, of course,

this painting hasn't definitely been
authenticated, as far as I understand

The painting was sold for £600, Mr
Sharkey. If it turns out to be a genuine

Watto, how much could it fetch?

Are you investigating, Miss Inspector?
No.

I'm just interested.

Ah. Well, if it is genuine, Something
that's not catalogued, but genuine.

Mind you, this will only be a rough
guide, of course. The last sale was some

three years ago.

Now, whether or not the two pictures are
comparable, I don't know. But we sold

an oil on canvas.

Let me see.

Faitch on Fetch.

39 inches by 28.

358 ,000 pounds.

What a difference.

Do you know anything about the art
world?

No.

Neither did they. I swear they came to
you.

Well, Inspector, on occasions we do
offer some compensation.

But in this situation... After what they
did.

Well, you must see we can't encourage
this sort of display.

You know, I would love to talk to the
person who bought it at the auction.

Oh, no, I'm afraid I can't possibly.

It's a question of confidence.

Well, not even to me.

Well, perhaps this once.

I suppose you could have found out from
somebody who was at the sale.

Well, it would be much easier from you.

Yes, but you do realise that... Oh, yes,
yes, I promise I won't tell.

Well, so long as we understand each
other.

There we are.

Finnaman. Nicholas Finnaman, a dealer.

Bourne Street?

No, Inspector.

Alder Road, Clapham.

One of the smaller shops in our waters.

Peace and love, darling.

Your Nick.

Steve wasn't too sure about the main
bloke. A jock, about five foot seven,

finished. Anything else? All vague,
nothing worth much.

That's a help, though.

I've just heard.

Oh, dear. Your son, your own son,
getting caught by a game like that.

Well, he's thinking of following in
Mummy's footsteps. He'd be a villain's

delight. Don't tell me you've never
bought anything cheap.

Scots, I may be. Stupid, I'm not. Now,
where have you kept him, Maggie?

Cottonwood? In the draft, Bob.

People get done every day.

Caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware.

It's our job to teach street wisdom. Are
you coming in or out?

In, if that suits you. You're going to
have to pass that on. Not our division.

Don't worry, you won't disturb me.

I don't know what your definition of
crime is, but mine is what it says in

law, and this sort of thing's illegal.

So is parking on a yellow line.

Come on.

I promise you, Jake, I am not pushing
this because of thieves. It makes no

difference to me, Maggie. It does to me,
especially when I hear mug -toads like

that suggesting otherwise. The law's the
law.

Calm down. You don't have to argue.

Just tell me what to do.

Did you get anything out of the girl who
gave you this?

One of the Moonies, wouldn't you?

Some bloke gave her a five at the end of
the month. She lives with her eyes

shut. What about the shop?

I went round the lock -up in the garden.

Some bloke came round to borrow the
peas. Wanted to see if it was suitable

herb shop.

Brought them back the next day.

Good thing.

Got. Well -dressed.

Glasses. Might be things, man.

I suppose he didn't leave his dress.

Just a tenner for a deposit on the king.

It's their own. Yeah, I've been with
them.

One yesterday, another tomorrow.

What are the people drinking here,
actually?

Drinking with a chintz, probably.

That market's pretty shut in, though.

Yeah. Take this over, Pat.

Well, give me a bow.

No, go yourself.

Just hear them being enthusiastic about
covering the closing down auction.

Okay. And I'll go and tell Mr.

Russell, you know, how he feels about
the haze on.

Very luck. We'll just draw them in
tomorrow. Oh, I doubt it. Life hunts

lot.

Can I help you?

Mr. Finnaman?

Just my luck, your trade.

Look, dear, a whole container went off
this morning to Holland. The dock's

down. Please, Mr. Finnaman.

Inspector Forbes, you are Nicholas
Finnaman.

What have I done?

You are?

To the life, dear.

You're not one of the local ones.

Seven dows.

You deal in paintings, don't you?

Dabble, dear, dabble, but just for fun.

Stolen, is it?

No.

Ah, you bought not 110.

What is this?

You did?

Inspector, is this some of your police
harassment?

I bought this fair and square at
auction, and there's no law against

profit as far as I'm aware.

You're very touchy.

Yes, well, I saw in the papers what
those two old bats did.

But it's not my fault.

How did you know that that had anything
to do with it?

I guessed.

Now, what did you want?

As a matter of fact, I came to do you a
favour. It's just possible that they may

come and see you.

Here? Well, they've quite got the bit to
ruin their tea.

It's nothing to do with me. It's
Greville's they're after.

Of course, they may not come, but if
they do... I'll be the blue -eyed boy.

Tea and cakes all round and buckets of
sympathy.

I'll have them have them eating out of
my hand.

Mind they don't bite it off.

I'm sorry to have bothered you.

Oh, and by the way...

think I could see the painting?

Keep it here, not on your life.

It's in the bank.

Well, yes, it was very sensible.

Thank you for your time, anyway.

Bye.

Greville? Mr. Roberts, please.

I know because I've been told, that's
why. You're the one, Mr. Big.

Getting a whole load of people in
trouble, and all because you couldn't

wholesale butcher's like anyone else.

Now, you get them to nick the stuff from
the hotel store, then you resell it

through your kebab shop. It's very
clever, except you got caught.

You're nicked. Where's Michael? God
knows.

Well, when you see it, tell her I wanted
the Dublin Bob. Got the property store

on my back. You know, what does that
crowd of old women want?

They want to know how long they've got
to hang on to a mountain of mincemeat,

not a coal store, you know. Yeah, I've
got all that sorted just now, thanks to

Jimmy here.

A little teller, a bit smartish, eh?

You hear that?

They're going to send a bill for storage
to you.

Right.

Let's start again, shall we?

From the beginning.

You can't go off with some half -baked
notion like that.

Neither was it half -baked, nor did I
pump Sharky for information.

Then why did I collect an earful from a
superintendent Hague of art and

antiques? Tell me that.

I've no idea. I've never spoken to him.

So, why does it need an officer of your
rank to deal with a case of common

assault? Well, there is an explanation.

Make it quick and convincing. I'm not
investigating an assault.

Well, go on.

Look, I think a painting was knowingly
undersold at a Greville's auction some

six months ago. I can't prove it. I've
no idea how it was done. All I know is

that wherever I ask, there's evasion and
suspicion.

Maggie, a painting knowingly undersold.
That is art and antiques business, not

ours. Well, there's only suspicion so
far. There's nothing concrete.

Maggie, that is precisely what
Superintendent Haig's been going on

it's a very influential world you're
playing around in. Now, Superintendent

Haig's already had one ear bashing from
this sharky character.

You warning me off?

You know how I feel about people in so
-called privileged positions phoning up

top policemen, telling them how to do
their job. All the same, it was none of

your business. Your job's out there on
the street and you're wasting your time

at Greville's. I'm being pulled.

Handing over as an Inspector Turnbull of
Art and Antiques waiting on a call from

you. Yes, sir.

Now then, what's this about a request to
Paddington?

To raid a closing dance sale. It's about
the phony perfume. Sergeant Barrett's

dealing with it. Well, good.

That's the sort of thing we're here for,
OK?

I've got a date, ma 'am.

I don't care if it's Kate Bush. You're
not going till I've finished.

You like it here?

Yes, ma 'am. Right. How many statements
have you got?

Two about cassette radios without works,
one about a dark calculator, and

another about a computer game.

No perfume?

No. You've got your own snouts now,
haven't you?

I mean, why didn't they know about the
Covent Garden sale?

Well, a couple of McGregors flogging
junk to the Yanks didn't rate you, I

suppose. Well, you tell them for future
reference that you want to know about

every slightest thing, and it's not up
to them to decide how bent something is

before they tell you this crowd's making
monkey dollars.

I'm going on the raid with the boys from
Pennington, but I don't hold out much

hope. The leaflet girl?

Well, she could have said something.

Well, the Mooney? Be the first time in
history that lot have noticed anything.

Well, what do we know about this Boland
character?

Well, three witnesses picked him out of
the book, and Steve.

He's got form.

75 posies on the meter reader, 77
receiving, 79 logbooks for patched -up

Well, it sounds like it's lying, sort
of. Well, put the word out.

Well, I have. Another bunch of paper.

Clean the ashtrays in the car.

I've got to see an inspector Turnbull,
and from what I hear, he's not the sort

to put up with tacky vehicles.

Steady, John. You wouldn't want to have
to pay for this.

Who'd want to nick this stuff?

What is it?

Someone cleared out a sculpture park in
Eppie.

God knows what they were going to do
with it.

Turned up in Greenwich.

I read about your Watto. Yeah, yours
now.

If it's kosher, that dealer did himself
a favour.

Is it kosher?

Yes and no.

You cold? A bit.

I'm going inside. Don't knock anything
off.

I believe it was kosher if it was some
bright sparker Agnews or Colnagis did

ascription. Not if it was some
pretentious tat dealer from Clapham.

difference? He's an odd one, his Watto.

Never signed his name for a start. Well,
hardly ever.

Not prolific.

It's the galleries that have got most of
it.

It'd be a bugger to pick a totally
unknown elf.

What did you say your old lady's name
was?

What's that got to do with it?

Mead? Yes.

Interesting.

After you.

Copy? Oh, thanks.

Now, why is the name Mead?

Listen,

just suppose those two old dears were
descendants of one Dr Mead, noted sore

bones of the 18th century, friend of the
famous, and doctor to one Alexander

Pope, the poet.

Do you want a copper?

Milk and sugar?

Just milk.

Old Mead was also an art collector, sort
of Paul Getty of his time, and very

keen on Mr Watteau's paintings.

And would you believe it? The painter
comes to England to make his fortune, he

says, but most likely to see this quack,
Dr Mead. Well, Mead taps his chest,

listens to his heart, all that caper,
then says, Sorry, monsieur, nothing I

do. You got TB.

But here's my bill.

Can't pay, says Watteau.

Never mind, says Mead, who could have
had this idea all along.

Just paint a picture of me and my
friend, Mr Pope, in my garden at

Two gentlemen in an English garden.

Could be.

The thing is, we already know that...

Mead owned two vatos. It was only a
matter of time before a third turned up.

And if it had always been in the old
lady's family... Right, unknown,

uncatalogued, just waiting for some
villain to come along.

But they would have to have known the
old lady's name.

That would be the clincher.

This bloke Finnaman either knew it
before he bought it or afterwards.

way, someone told him. He couldn't have
done it himself, no way. Someone inside

Greville's? Even money, yeah.

So it's very possible there has been a
conspiracy.

Right.

But proving it...

Well, where's that leave us?

What's your boss said?

I'm handing over to you.

Suppose I said, let's shake the tree a
bit.

Both of us?

No, you.

Now, you know what I told you?

The sight of me, I'll put the wind up
them. You go in, maybe they'll be caught

sure. Let something slip.

Find out if whoever saw that painting
twigged the significance of the name.

You'll take the responsibility.

Okay.

You're on.

Grab also.

Inspector, I was under the impression
this was settled.

It is irritating, I know.

What more can I say?

I've heard nothing from the old ladies.

Quite likely it's all a red herring
then, but I would like to finally

myself that there's nothing in it.

We hear this sort of thing, well, I
won't say every day, but often enough.

Have Mr Roberts come in, will you?

I'm quite sure I won't have to bother
you again.

Isn't this sort of matter normally dealt
with by the Art and Antiques Squad

anyway, or is this some sort of
freelance job?

Now, come in, Piers.

This is Inspector Forbes.

How do you do, Inspector?

Mr. Roberts?

Now, just tell the Inspector what you
told me about this retinite.

I believe you saw it when it first came
in. It was referred to me by one of our

junior evaluers. Quite routine.

It's a nice enough painting, but there
was nothing about it to suggest it was

anything but what it appeared.

English, 18th century.

Precisely. Absolutely typical of dozens
of minor English paintings of the time.

Good.

Well, that's all I needed to know.

I'm sorry to have kept on about it.

You're satisfied? Yes, I think so.

Oh, there is one thing.

The name of the lady selling the
picture, does that mean anything to you?

Mr. Roberts is an expert in pictures,
not pedigrees.

Thank you.

Should we let you know if the vendors
contact us? Oh, I don't think it's

that they will.

Goodbye, Mr. Jackie. Goodbye, Inspector.

Mr. Roberts.

Goodbye.

Clearly she's tried it on the art and
antique squad and they've told her to

forget it. Yes, and that business about
the name.

She must have heard the word provenance
somewhere.

Amateurs.

While you were in with the big cheese, I
was chatting to the porters. Why, it

just came out. And more than some
repeatable.

Arrogant bastard was about the politest
thing they said.

Have a search on Roberts and see our
own.

He'll be as clean as a whistle.

Shark his nephew, oh well, with the
family.

Been there two years and gone down
steadily in everyone's estimation.

The porters wouldn't give him the time
of day if he paid for it. Nasty, but

as well.

Apparently. He borrows pictures from the
store to impress his bank manager, and

he has been known to auction his own
stuff under a false name.

Now, if that's not bent, he isn't. God,
what did they get up to?

I thought you'd been pulled.

I have, Torum.

Well, Jake reckoned the governor
wouldn't approve.

Hasn't Turnbull taken it off you
completely, then? I'm just doing what he

Nearly closing time, and not a soul to
disturb us.

Honestly, Gunther, the people of Clapham
have no idea what treasures lie on

their doorstep.

Closing!

Join the choir, Finnaman. Sorry, shut.

We won't take up too much of your time,
Mr Finnaman.

Gunther, be alert. Pop up there, put the
kettle on. I shan't be long. Not for

far, son.

You needn't bother him. He's Dutch.

No sugar for me, please.

Don't bother.

I can close up, can I?

All breakages to be paid for, Inspector.

Here's a bob for the lot.

Very droll, I'm sure.

It's about that bloody picture, I
suppose. Do I smell guilty conscience?

We just want to clarify a few points, Mr
Finnaman. I wish I'd never bought it.

Why did you, Finnaman?

Because I fancied it.

Though that's not an explanation a
flatfoot's going to be satisfied with.

ignorant bastard, you catch on fast.

You told me you normally didn't deal in
pictures.

It doesn't need a light. Belt up,
Finnaman, and answer the lady's

Such finesse.

Well, no, and yes, not for sale, for my
own pleasure, though I wouldn't say I

never fell them off.

Going abroad, is it, or has already?

How did you authenticate it, Finnaman?
That's a crime, Finnaman, exporting a

picture worth over eight grand without a
license. It's in the bank.

Convenient. Answer the lady, then. How
did you know?

By the style.

By the subject matter. A certain way
things are done. By the subject matter?

not? Why not? He doesn't know.

Know what? It's an English garden,
Finnaman. Butto was French.

Yes, but... But what?

Put that down.

Don't trust me? It's more fragile than
it looks. Like a lot of a tat in this

shop, like your explanations, Finnerman.

Look, Mr Finnerman, I'm not an expert
like Inspector Turnbull here, but from

what I've found out, it's not likely
that you would have known.

You'd have needed some information.

You know what I'm saying, don't you?

Who tipped you the wink, eh?

What's he paying you, ten grand?

Twenty?

He's going to make a quarter of a
million.

That's a lot of money, Finnerman.

Answer the door like a good boy.

Go on, answer it.

Is he bent? Yeah. Without a confession,
we haven't got a prayer.

Friend of yours, Finnerman?

No.

Just a late customer.

Too late.

All right, lovey.

Next time you won't open your mouth.

And don't make a sound.

Okay.

We've just stopped down at Middlesex
now.

Is she talking?

No, she's scared Willis, according to
them. She's been pretty badly cut.

Bastards. Well, look, get on down there
and see if she can identify the ones who

did it. Right, I'll see you later.

Sir?

My chief's definitely not buying it,
Maggie.

What have we got?

I mean, the picture could only have been
identified in one way. Finnaman caught

out on a lie, saying he didn't know
Robert, and obviously not knowing a

thing about the picture. It doesn't
prove conspiracy to defraud. Well, put

pressure on.

You don't understand, do you?

It's a delicate business. Art and
Antiques needs a corporation of a place

Greville's. We can't afford to lose it
for nothing.

Nothing? You've got the next best thing
to a smoking gun. It's not on. The only

bloke to put pressure on is Roberts. And
the moment we do that, the whole thing

will close up like a clam.

I have to live with that lot. It's not
going to make my life any easier. Oh,

see, that's what it's all about, is it?

If you want, yeah.

All those two have got to do is stick to
a tale that Finnerman consulted Roberts

after the sale. It's as easy as that.

I'm not working on this just for the
waste paper basket.

You can tell all that to my governor.

It's a question of credibility.

Art and antiques depends on it. If we go
in there shouting blue murder and we're

wrong, it'll take us two years to heal
the wounds. But we're right.

You're never going to get a conviction
out of this one, not in a million years,

just a load of aggravation. You can get
a confession if we leave. Not without

our weight behind it, you won't. And if
you don't mind my saying so, Governor,

your people have gone too far already.

Okay, you've made your point.

Sorry.

Better luck next time. You know where to
find me.

Cheers.

Judas. Did I tell you any different?
It's a carve -up between them and

Still gets up my nose having him come in
here, told me to my face we've gone too

far. I know we can get them. Robert's as
bent as a forkney bit.

You're not just doing this for two old
ladies.

I am doing it because I don't like to
see someone like Robert get away with

You were the one who told me they could
look after themselves. They just have,

helped along by Inspector Turnbull.

Supposing I told you, have another go,
what would you do?

Go to Sharkey, tell him straight.

Will he see it?

Oh, yes.

All right, go ahead.

And I'll answer to Superintendent Haig.

Thank you.

But don't expect any sympathy if it all
goes wrong.

Inspector Forbes.

Sleuth to the nobility, the lady raffles
with just a touch of the Robin Hood's

salams, madam.

Oh, it just so happens I have a little
tidbit for you, if you've time.

It's a joke. It's no joke.

You see, it's like this, ma 'am.

After I'd cracked the little case of
meat theft from one of London's better

-known hotels, I happened to have a
moment or two free before going on to my

next... Oh, I do beg your pardon, ma
'am. No doubt you have an appointment at

the House of Lords.

Here.

The snout of mine knows where your lads
keep their stuff.

Where? The lock -up, deepest Soho.

That's the address.

I can't arrest them for possessing
rubbish.

No, but you've got more of them now,
haven't you?

All you've got to do is find out the
date of their next bargain sale and then

nobble them as they go and collect the
crap.

Easy. What's in it for you?

A hard barst that I may be, but I do not
like young women getting their faces

cut.

Thanks.

Who's Peter Phillips?

Don't know, ma 'am. Well, when you find
him, tell him I've gone round to

Greville and see if he can find out who
owns that garage.

This better be important, Inspector.

It is.

I'm not here just for your convenience,
you know.

I have reason to believe that a member
of your staff has been party to a

conspiracy to defraud.

I see. Who is it?

It is Robert, your nephew.

You have proof before making this
serious accusation? Without a

What is it you suspect he's done?

He arranged for a man called Finnaman to
bid for him when the undiscovered Watto

was sold.

Putative Watto, Inspector.

It hasn't been authenticated yet.

Are you safe?

And you say you have no definite proof
my nephew has acted dishonestly?

I was at Finnaman's yesterday when your
nephew happened to call round. Oh, he

shot off the moment he saw me.

And it's quite clear that Finnaman
wouldn't know a watto from a damp patch

the wall. He's a trendy junk dealer.

Well, it's not against the law to sell
trendy junk, just as it's not against

law to get a friend to bid for a lot at
an auction.

Ethically, it stinks.

Let me put a hypothetical case to you,
Mr Sharkey.

A picture.

It's brought into a long -established
auction house of international repute by

someone who doesn't know its real worth.

Now, an expert examines that picture and
he begins to suspect that it's very

valuable indeed.

Ethically, he should recommend to the
owner that he leaves the picture with

so that text can be carried out, further
research done, you know, other opinions

given. Standard procedure in the case of
a potentially valuable picture, but I

don't see how this... But now we come to
the hypothetical bit.

Suppose that expert was greedy.

Saw a way to make a killing.

What could be easier?

He dismisses the painting as a minor
work.

He enters it into a run -of -the -mill
sale at the end of the season. He

deliberately miscatalogues it.

He even gets a chum to bid for him.

And he's coasting home to a large sum of
money.

The owner is swindled out of the true
value of the picture to say nothing of

auction house losing out on a fat slice
of commission.

That's an interesting theory.

But as you said, you have no proof.
There was just one curious coincidence.

Now, you don't usually publish the
vendor's name for an individual sale of

painting, do you? No, it's not our
practice. Certainly not in a minor

sir.

The name Mead was crucial to the
identification of the Watteau painting.

at the sale knew the vendor's name
except the person who catalogued the

painting.

Your nephew.

Will you get Mr. Roberts up here a
moment, please?

Immediately.

Are you going to ask him? I can't.

He'll only deny it.

I need your cooperation.

Oh, well, um... Then perhaps you'd
better wait outside, Inspector.

I would warn you, Mr. Sharkey, that a
crime may have been committed.

And I would warn you, Inspector, that my
office door is thick and sunproof.

Sit down, Piers.

What's all the fuss?

Have you been frigging about?

Sorry?

Finnaman Piers, the Watto. Did you get
him to bid for you?

Isn't it proof?

Damn it, you tell me.

Do I smell scandal?

This isn't a game. The good name of the
firm, uncle, has the black sheep put all

your precious millions at stake.

Piers, if you don't tell me the truth
this instant, I'm going out of that door

and I shall tell that attractive
inspector that you've owned up.

And I shall be quite happy to testify
against you in court.

Do I make myself clear?

There's Venetian glass.

What?

You tell me that.

You'll hand me over.

I'll have to find out, won't you?

That's 22.

All right, yes, I did.

The minute I saw that picture and heard
the name Mead, I knew it might be more

than it looked.

It was a very long shot, a gamble.

Well, the old bag's got a very good
price for its catalogue description.

How did you know? The name.

and some of Meade's letters I bought at
a junk shop in Bath a couple of years

ago. They're the confirmation that
Watteau did paint such a picture.

Oh, it's all right. I haven't shown them
to anyone.

So you put up filament a bit for you? Mm
-hm.

You stupid fool.

But it can't be proved.

Unless I admit it.

How dare you abuse your position here,
hmm?

How dare you? I've done no more than
goes on all the time, and well you know

You disgust me.

Everything tells me I ought to hand you
over. Except your greed, uncle.

The scandal would be too much for
Greville's flawless reputation.

You little shit.

You won't even sack me, not immediately.

You'll wait for things to die down, then
quietly send me off to one of the

international branches, Rio, Australia.

What's your agreement with Pinnaman? Ten
percent.

I take ninety.

Well, I'll have that for a start.

Now get out.

Are you going to hand me over? Out.

Ah, come in, Inspector.

Do sit down.

I've spoken to Mr. Roberts, and he
assures me there isn't the slightest

truth in what you suspect.

It was a genuine mistake.

I don't believe that.

Well, you've got no option.

However, in the circumstances, and I
shall be putting this in writing to the

Miss Meads, Greville's is quite prepared
to compensate them pound for pound for

whatever sum their former picture
fetches at auction if and when it is

genuine water. Just like that.

What did he tell you?

It was a mistake.

A stupid, idiotic mistake.

And if I were you, given the
impossibility of proving a crime without

confession, I should forget the whole
matter.

Do you see what I'm getting at,
Inspector?

Stop pulling, Ethel. Don't pull.

I'm not a camel. I'm sorry. Anyway,
here's the sergeant. Am I facing the

way? There.

We wish to see that woman, Inspector.

Oh, do you now? Yes, we do.

What rank do you hold?

It's all right, madam.

I'm the duty sergeant. Then kindly
inform her that the Mrs Mead are here.

Now, you sit on this street here, Jay.

You be here, Peter. I'll be up here in
this window. That's the entrance to the

lock -up.

How much uniform is there? I'm asked for
eight.

What if they don't show?

Well, any reason for them to have
clocked us this time?

Not that I know.

Sparrow fart, then. We'll be here at
half past five and we'll be there by

quarter to six and, uh, trapped.

I've had another disaster recently.

Yes.

Oh. Thank you very much, Sergeant. I'll
be right down.

All right, any questions?

Yeah. Who's joining me in a campaign for
better overtime?

Dave, what are you doing with them? I'll
put them in the interview room.

Thank you.

The shares reacted sharply to the news
in London with a fall of 70p to 560p,

they since then stabilised at around
that level. The London...

Who is he? Who is he? It's the lady
inspector. Good afternoon, ladies. Good

afternoon. We had a phone call from
Greville's, so we came straight up.

We'll come to make statement, Inspector,
for the prosecution.

Well, there is no prosecution.

You're not going to prosecute.

I have no concrete evidence, Miss Maid.
But Mr. Sharkey said that now they're

going to give us the full value of the
picture when it's sold.

Compensation. I would have thought that
compensation was tantamount to an

admission of guilt.

I'm afraid there is nothing of the
thought.

You have spoken to your superiors, I
imagine.

Miss Mead, I might point out that you're
very lucky to have got anything.

Well, we're very grateful, aren't we,
Sarah?

She doesn't mean to be brusque. It's
just her way. Oh, yes, you silly woman.

Am I to understand?

that in spite of the obvious fact that
there has been fraud at Greville's,

nothing is to be done.

Well, you could take it up in the civil
court. We shall.

But I would have thought after what you
did at their sale that you ought to be

grateful. What is your fund called? Oh,
poor fund. You have one, I imagine.

There's a box at the front desk.

Yes.

Is that 50p? Yes, dear.

Thank you.

That is how we show our gratitude.

Thank you.

Like the grave, gov.

Okay, give it another ten minutes, then
come in.

We'll open up this door.

They're not coming.

Damn.

Thanks for the hospitality.

I've gone back north. You can keep the
rubbish.

Jock.

Who's graft?

Cross snout.

Terrific.

All right, that's it, you lot. Back to
the nick.

Here, go.

Want one of these?

Oh, you never know.

Christmas present for a long -lost
auntie.