All language subtitles for Bookish - 01x05 - Such Devoted Sisters - Part 1

So, can you use a gun?

Well, I prefer fists.
Who will I be fighting?

Our enemies.

Have you ever been to prison?

Why'd you ask?

- The terms you're willing to take.
- What did you do?

Our pals saw something
in a shop window they wanted.

So, I drove into it.
It's called a smash...

Smash and grab.
Yes, I know. I do read the papers.

It says here you've recently
worked for a film actor.

Yes.

As his bodyguard?

- Amongst other things.
- But before that, in this...

bookshop.

Why did you leave there?

I didn't care for it.

And you're happy with this arrangement?

Book has his life. I have mine.
It works.

I'm amazed more people don't do it.

I knew him.

Your father.
I knew him before the war.

You knew him?

Jack.

Ah, this is...

I can't... I can't...

Jack, where are you going?

But your previous employer trusted you?

Yes.

Despite your history?

Because of it.
Perhaps.

And should we trust you?

Well, I suppose you'll find out

when the next assassin comes.

Nora.

- I never did it.
- Never did what?

Made shillings out of ice
and put them in the meter.

What's all this corrosion then?

- That's rust.
- Yes, it is.

Cold, isn't it?

- We could burn a few.
- No, we couldn't.

- Not even the Georgette Heyers?
- No.

Really, Nora. For someone
so new to the pleasures of reading,

you're fast becoming a terrible snob.

What is it?

Feels quiet without him.

God bless the Walsingham.
And all who sail in her.

- Oh, God.
- Jesus.

Oh, bloody hell.

Do forgive me, my dear.

I seem to be in a state
of advanced repression.

Oh, I had noticed, Victor.
Just stay there.

I'll fetch a cloth.

Cigarette, sir.
Dunhill or Capstan?

Can we talk?

- Thank you.
- Thank you, sir.

Here.
It's for him.

Thank you.

Please enjoy.

- Not enough lemon juice.
- Too much ice.

And I did not like the way you shook it.

Too violent.

Of course.
Excuse me.

They think I'm too violent.

It's a violent art.

Good thing I didn't waste
any gin on them then.

You're a quick learner.

I'm glad you've fallen on your feet.

I had no idea you'd be here.

We haven't seen you in weeks.

- How are you?
- Look...

I haven't got long.
What...

What do you want?

Oh, Jack.

This is silly.

We miss you.

We both hoped you'd found a safe birth
in Archangel Lane.

A home.
Book and me.

Well, our arrangement is unusual, I know.
But as I said to you, when we first met...

Love is where it falls.

And how does my father
fit into all of that?

One of Mr Book's little dalliances, was he?

Well, Book needs to talk to you
about your father properly.

Look, our marriage protects us both.

- Don't we have the right to be happy?
- Happy?

Well, gallivanting off into the night.

In with God knows who and you.

Is that the latest?
It is the fellow with a moustache?

He's Captain Orr.
I knew him before the war.

Oh, dreamboat of the officer's mess,
was he?

Hmm.
Something like that.

Listing slightly now, though, eh?

Trottie.

You don't half pick'em.

Mrs Book.

Well, we'd better not keep him waiting.

Excuse me.

Oh, come to my room and help me dry off.
I'm wet, woman.

Give me the damn cloth.
Come on.

Get your ruddy hands off me.

I won't have it.
For shame.

Oh, dear, sir.

Oh, you've had a right mishap.

Who's this?

Wet trousers are against
the dress code, you know?

This is the Walsingham. So...
why don't you go back to your room,

take the wet pants off
and have a little lay down.

I've never been so insulted.

I'm sure you have been.
A fella like you.

Ah, Victor Orr.
My old friend.

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

- Bloody girl can't take a joke.
- Sit down.

Uh, can we have a couple of those?

What do you call them?

Four cinnamon sours.

- For the two ladies.
- For their royal highnesses, you mean.

These are on me, ladies.

And may I say, you are looking
superbly Balkan tonight.

I salute the house of Scutari.

Whichever commissar lives in it now.

Take a good look, Trottie.

That's what happens to you
when you get dethroned by the Reds.

Oh dear.

Allow me.

So embarrassing.
I do apologise.

Not at all, not at all.

Look after the pennies

and the pounds will look
after themselves, what?

I, uh, had a bit of luck on the horses.

You, uh, you know Ascot?

Very well, sir.

How is the going?

Oh, well.

Good to firm.

After this, shall we, uh...

Normally my favourite ellipsis,

but I just think we should
call it a night now, Victor.

Oh, Trottie.
You're no fun anymore.

It's amazing how different things can look
without the benefit of the blackout.

Here's to Joe Stalin's next stroke.

Tinkerty-tonk.

Oh, Victor.

Oh, my God.

Sync and corrections: minouhse
www.addic7ed.com

This is a Deutschmark.

Yes.

This is Chinese.

Oh.

And this is a button.

It's a very nice button.

Nora, have you been taking shillings
from this tin?

No.

Remind me,

what's the price
of a green Penguin crime novel?

A shilling.

Ah.

That's better.

Ah.
Success.

Oh, it's you.

You ready to commit affray, Miss?

No, Sergeant. She was just...
browsing.

I hate to seem inquisitive,
but why are you here?

There's a chap being killed
at the Walsingham.

Poisoned.

Dead in a pile of pound notes
on the floor of the River Bar.

Oh, that's just our sort of thing.

Don't get too excited.
The inspector wants a Book.

G. Book, esquire.

There's some foreign
royalty involved, it seems.

He says, uh, do you have anything
on the Balkan Rules of Revenge?

Specifically, the Canon of Scutari.

How too, too ridiculously obscure.

- Do you have it?
- Almost certainly.

- And, uh, 504, he says.
- 504.

- Room with a view?
- Well, it's all right for some, I suppose.

Mrs. Book's already checked in.

Why?

Oh, uh, she's one of the suspects.

Trouble in paradise.
Is there, sir?

Ho ho, what a beauty.

Yes.
Might be one of those clues.

We like those.

- Do you mind?
- Yes.

Do people really say,
what's your poison when we're at the bar?

No idea.
I don't get out much.

What do you mean?
Oh, we're at the Walsingham.

So's he.

Oh, yeah. Let's, uh,
let's get him somewhere more private.

Yep.

Not the main entrance, please, Inspector.

I'm sorry we can't be more discreet.

May I suggest the service corridor?

Oh, yes. Yes. Thank you, Mr. Kind.

Nothing to stop you reopening
the bar tomorrow, I think.

- Good evening, sir.
- Evening.

- You have a reservation?
- Uh, no. My wife does.

Your wife?

Mrs. Book. Have you seen her?
I'm afraid she may be distressed.

- Oh, Book.
- 504, Freddie.

Ah, no, I'll keep this one.
Thank you.

What's happened, darling?
What's this about a corpse?

Why have I been scouring my stacks
in Balkan blood feuds?

Oh, I'm not proud of myself.

There was champagne.

A day at the races,
Riddle Me in the 2.30.

Cocktails, more cocktails, and then...

Trottie, we live our own lives.
That was always the deal.

Self flagellation is never helpful.

Not nearly as much fun
as someone doing it to you.

- Who was he?
- Victor. Orr.

- Or?
- With two R's.

Naval captain, married, had met him before.

In an air raid.
41.

He, uh, made a pass at me in...

- In...
- Where?

Please don't make me say the F word.

- Foyle’s.
- Yes.

Oh, Trottie.

- I just fancied a good time.
- Well, there's nothing wrong with that.

He turned out to be the most awful bore.

- When is he now?
- In the morgue.

One last night on the tiles.

And there's something else.

Book.
Thank God you're here.

- You ready?
- For what?

To interview royalty.

- It's a little irregular, isn't it?
- I don't care.

They terrify me.
I'm not going in there alone.

Haven't you taken their fingerprints?

I've not got Morris to do that.
I may be a coward, but I'm not a fool.

I have our primary text.

The Canon of Scutari.

Oh, yeah.
Looks expensive.

Will it pay for our suite, inspector?

Oh, the late captain
had taken care of that, Mrs. Book.

You're in the room next to the princesses.

- Oh, what are they like?
- Oh, they're glamorous in a sort of

disappointed and stateless kind of way.

Perhaps it's time I kept
a closer eye on them.

And an ear, too.

I shall use one of those little glasses
they keep by the sink.

So will this help us find who done it?

It's a book of customary laws
for remote mountain communities

without a magistrate or justice.

The village elders consult the text
and then

tell you how much Raki to provide
for your daughter's wedding,

what to do if your bees escape
and build a nest on your labor's land,

that sort of thing.

And who you're allowed to kill
if somebody kills your cousin.

Well, what language did you think
it was going to be in?

Well, we have three native speakers
on the premises, but they're all suspect.

Who's the third?

Oh, he's a rather good-looking
cocktail waiter.

Well, don't fret too much.

The dutiful Teutonic scholar did publish
a translation of it in the German.

- Oh, well, you certainly speak the German.
- In his sleep sometimes.

So where is this translation?

Norah is looking for it now.

It must be somewhere in the law section,
or social science or etiquette,

or propping open the door.

- You said there was something else?
- Yes.

These princesses
have been given gainful employment

to one of the capital's dispossessed.

Oh, yes.

I know.

And there he is.

I'll, uh, turn down the bedsprings.

Sergeant Morris will be along soon to take
a statement.

- Yes, of course.
- I'd be grateful, Mrs. Book,

if you didn't leave the hotel.

It's perfectly all right, Inspector.
You have to do your duty.

Here to see their royal highnesses.

Enter.

Oh, dog.

Where is it?

Green.
Straight-grained.

Morocco bound folio, with a lot of
academic monographs bound inside.

Slightly foxed,
according to the catalogue.

You're no help.

Der Kanun des Scutari.

What would I do without you?

Time for a little chat, Mrs. Book.

Poof.

I beg your pardon?

I apologize for it.

That we have sunk so low.

Remember the great banqueting table,
through here?

Chairs made with birch.

As silvery
as the snow on the mountain tops.

Upholstered with damasks or so.

We've been in more awkward situations
than this, haven't we, Inspector?

- That we have, Book.
- So, which is the policeman?

You?
Or this Book?

Well, he's taking notes for me.

- Helping with the...
- Uh, Pittman's shorthand. So useful.

Tall and redheaded.

Like the poppies of our homeland.

I realize that this will be
very difficult for you,

Your R... R...
Royal Highnesses.

Uh, but if there's any detail
you can recall,

however small, it may help us
discover who killed Captain Orr.

That is easy.
I killed him.

So it's...
You did what?

It is true.
I switched the glasses.

He drank the poison meant for one of us.

We have a routine, my sister and I,
to cause a distraction.

I salute the house of Scutari.

Whichever commissar lives in it now,
take a good look, Trottie.

That's what happens to you
if you get dethroned by the Reds.

No.
Oh, dear.

It's so embarrassing.
I do apologize.

Not at all.
Not at all.

Look after the pennies and the pounds
will look after themselves. What?

It is a habit.
A necessary precaution.

Like this.

This...

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

There was a steward on the Berengaria.

Can I turn over your room, Madame?

So transparent.

And that Salvation Army woman
outside the Opera.

Shaking her tin box.

She denied everything, of course.

- Who do you think is trying to kill you?
- The Communists, of course.

Of course.

But they already have your palaces,
your estates.

Our summer house on the Adriatic.

There is a lake there.

When the rising sun touches it,
it is like the blush.

In the spring, our country
was proclaimed a people's republic.

They want...
What's the expression?

A big finish.

Hence the bodyguard.

And how are you finding him?

As he failed to prevent
an attempt on our lives,

I would say he has not
covered himself in glory.

Don't the Communists
also have your other sister?

We do not speak of her.

Seliyeh. Yes?
The youngest.

- She renounced her title.
- We do not speak of her.

- Red scum.
- She betrayed her birthright.

Her country, her family.

- Take it.
- Thank you.

Of course,
if this does turn out to be the case,

then your switching of the drinks
will not be without consequence.

We are used to being pilloried.

We will take whatever comes to us.

Right.

Now then, in your statement,
you said something about

this murder being written about
in the Kanun of Scutari.

- What does that mean?
- It means that a killing like this

follows certain customary principles.

It means the first thing you must do
is arrest that cocktail waiter.

- Ismael Guzili.
- Guzili.

- G... Guz...
- Guzili.

Guz...
Guzili.

- Why?
- He's from the mountains.

These people know the rules of revenge.

They are obsessed with them.

You must arrest him.

And you must bring in
any others on the staff.

Other...

mountain men?

Yes.

Well, thank you so much.

This has been most helpful.

So you will do as we say?

No, I will not.

- Why?
- Because, Princess, I am not your subject.

And in this country a man is innocent
until proven guilty.

Whatever altitude he was born at.

Sometimes, Inspector, you make me proud
to be from the gutter.

I never really thought of myself
as a Republican.

Well, it's the war, Book.

Changed us all.

I never really thought of myself as a Jew.

You ever come here during the Blitz?

I had to let you in if there was a raid on,
even without a tie.

We used to come down to the lower bar.

It's known as the Fruit Cellar.

That was quite the mixed grill.

You did nothing.

You're supposed to be my boyfriend.
And you did nothing.

Eadie, what do you expect me to do?

Nothing.

- Was he the one from this morning?
- Yeah.

Came at me in a silk dressing gown
with everything pointed north.

- His name is Captain Victor Orr.
- Not anymore.

- They already gave me a warning.
- What?

Yeah, apparently shouting at lecherous
customers isn't the Walsingham way.

I'll speak to Mr. Kind.

It was Mr. Kind who gave me the warning.

One more black mark on about my arse.

I hate this place.

You know,

I was doing okay here.

At least I thought I was.

What's the bloody point?

Eadie,

I'm sorry.

You know,
my dad was right about you, Ismael.

And I should have listened to him.

Leave me alone.

What?

Careful, officer.

My friend borrows his jazz mags
from the maitre d'.

You can't shock me, sir.

I've been to the Windmill theatre
and seen those gents

with the newspapers on their laps.

And brought a few into the station.

Been jazzing with this one, sir?

- Oh no, that lot put me right off.
- Oh, you hate your royal family, do you?

They're not my royal family.

They've been nobody royal family
since 1940.

Ever since they left us with that chap.

Hey, Marco, what was his name?

Mussolini, mate.

I knew you'd know, mate.

Right-o, sir.

Confiscating this as evidence.

You enjoy this, don't you?

It's just work, sir.

Keep your temper, eh?

I suppose you usually take all
that aggression out on the ice cubes.

- Book for Mr. Book.
- Who?

It's the Canon of Scutari.

It's Albania.

Mrs. Book's out of the picture.

You can't be certain of that, sir.

I've read a statement and I'm satisfied
it's nothing to do with her.

- But, sir...
- I'm satisfied, Morris.

Clear?

So...

You think it was one of us?

I don't think anything yet.

Signor Barbarini?

Okay, well, I've narrowed it down to two.

A royal member of the House of Scutari.

Nafije or Ruhije?

Right-o.
Method?

Poison.

Something slipped into the cocktail glass
after...

he tried it on with Eadie Rattle.

That's the chambermaid, yes?

So where was she
when Captain Orr coughed his last?

- Gone already.
- Motive?

You think of any reason why anyone
would want to kill Captain Victor Orr?

Are you kidding? That Captain
was always here with different women.

Usually in the same room.
504.

- Really?
- City view.

Noiseless bed springs.

Duchess rate for favourite patrons.

And that captain has been coming here
for years.

- Usually once a week.
- Without a squeak?

You're very well informed.

No secrets at the Walsingham, sir.
We see all the dirty land.

Because we have to clean it.

Some might say, Mr. Guz Guzili,

that it's the duty of a grand hotel

to make sure that the private life
of a guest remains private.

And some might say, Inspector,

that in a grand hotel people
are usually at it like cod in a bucket.

- So it's a crime of passion then?
- No.

I reckon the captain was something
in intelligence.

During the war.

- How do you know that?
- They're a type.

Friendly, but...
Tell you nothing.

With a drink,

they'll always have
what the other person's having.

So, er, why would the princesses
want to kill a British spy?

Because British intelligence handed over
Scutari to the communist partisans.

And the captain recognised the princesses.

Who are they?

Should I know them?

Balkans.

Same to you.

Nafije and Ruhije.

Princesses of the Royal House of Scutari.

Proposed by the communists and now...

drifting around the world like flotsam.

Very glamorous flotsam.

- Wasn't there a scandal?
- They did a flit,

and the bullion from the National Bank
somehow found its way into their hatboxes.

Something of the sort.

And?

They're drifting our way.

- Or your way, be precise.
- Oh, I see.

In the market for a set of dictionaries,
are they?

They're staying at the Walsingham,
just down the road from you.

And, er...
there have been letters.

Threats.
Vicious ones.

You should speak to the post office, then.

We'd be ever so grateful

if you just...

kept an eye on them.

I told you.

I'm just a bookseller.

And I told...

I reminded you...

that we helped find young Jack.

It wasn't easy, you know.

It's you.

It's me.

- Ta for... you know.
- Ah, don't mention it.

So does that happen a lot then, does it?

It comes with a job, doesn't it?

Can I do you now, sir?

I wouldn't have killed him for it though.

- Somebody did.
- Yeah.

So...

Which side are you on?

- Sorry?
- Which side are you on?

Well, what are the options?

Well...

There's the management in this hotel
who...

treat their staff like muck and...

give a girl a mouthful
just for standing up for herself.

Right.

- Then there's the workers.
- OK, well...

the workers then.

Nice to hear your expression
of solidarity, brother.

But it's...
deeds, not words that count.

Don't you think?

Right.

So why don't you go down there
to that taxi stand.

Get me a nice cup of Bovril.

I can't.

Maybe later.
I just gotta get back.

To their royal bloody highnesses.

Afraid so.

How does it feel?

Working for those parasites?

Is that what they are?

Well, what would you call them?

Sad.

I suppose.

Yeah...
A bit sad.

Well...

Speaking for myself...

I'd line them up.

Shoot the buggers.

I can say a proper hello to you now,
Edmund Kind.

- Good evening.
- More than Kind,

- I used to say.
- Oh, well, that's too kind.

They closed it, you know, the lower bar.

The Fruit Cellar?
Oh, what a shame.

Yes, for redecoration.

Though when the work
will actually start, I don't know.

Seems they prefer it mothballed,
the management.

You mean it's all still there,
the mural and everything?

Oh, yes.

Well, we could take a look, if you'd like.

Well, I should really be
getting back upstairs.

Of course.

I suppose a...

a little peep wouldn't hurt.

Well, the question is...

- how the lights work.
- I don't remember there being any.

- You never turn them on.
- Blackout, I suppose.

No, no, they were just
terribly unflattering.

Yes, you're right.

Let's turn them off.

Just a soupçon.

These walls could talk.

Kim Strang is dead.

- Did you hear?
- Kim Strang?

He used to keep his Max Factor
in a gas mask box.

Well, he'd been in Egypt, hadn't he?

Had to keep that tan up.

- What happened to him?
- He walked into the sea at Shoreham.

I'm sorry to say.

Somebody had his letters.

Dreadful, really.

Dreadful.

And you're very married, I see.

Very, very married.

- Congratulations.
- Thank you.

And thanks for your help
with the, um, other matter.

Not at all.
What does Jack know?

That my wife and I have an arrangement,
that I knew his late father.

- Nothing more?
- He found that difficult enough

to take, ran out on us that very night.

Floated here?

Where he is gainfully employed,
thanks to you.

And able to keep an eye on the other
bodies floating around the

regal Scutari ones.

Why do you need to keep an eye on those?

Well, it's possible they were
the intended victims.

Not the captain.

It's a working hypothesis.

Are you with the police now, Gabriel?

You always were a dark horse.

It makes up a substantial part of my charm.

Christ, isn't that dangerous?
I mean, one false step.

I am all too well aware of that, Edmund.

Although I do have
a special letter from Churchill.

Still, he probably shouldn't be found
in a dimly lit basement bar with...

With a terribly handsome old friend?

No, perhaps not.

Trouble with the grid?

The Walsingham isn't connected to the grid.

It has its own oil powered generators,

dripping it in by the barrel.

Everything depends on it,
even the plumbing.

And what's a grand hotel
without power and hot running water?

Well, I suppose it's just a big building
full of people

who are rather cold and rather hungry.

And very, very rich.

I should get back.

Me too.

No big surprises on the poison front,
Inspector.

The deadly glass
contained boring old hydrochloric acid.

Oh, we can't all be virtuosos.

Virtuosi.

Th... Th... The thumbprint.
Enough for an arrest?

Enough for a hanging, maybe.

Okay, thank you.
Bye.

Where's Eadie Rattle?

Oh, um...
I'll check.

Very good, eh?

Did the blessed sergeant get everything
he required from you, dear?

Well, I took him through it
in exhausting detail.

Where did you get to?

- I've been talking to the staff.
- Oh, yes. Very nice of you.

The ones who served you cocktails tonight.

Well, it was really only the younger one.

- Guzili.
- If you say so.

Apparently, he poured a whole round
down the sink.

Ice and fruit and all.

Could he have tampered
with the second round?

Yes. Nobody was looking
because of the brouhaha.

Brouhaha?

Yes, one of the princesses
dropped her reticule.

There was loose change all over the floor.

Yes, I've heard about that.
And after the brouhaha?

Well, I dragged Victor back to the bar.

He made a toast.

And then there was the furore.

A brouhaha and then a furore.

It was very confusing.

Oh, and there was a woman.

A woman?

I've just remembered.
She handed me a cloth.

Like St. Veronica on the road to Calvary.

To mop up Victor Orr's trousers.

There was something
about the look she gave me.

Poor Victor.

People were recoiling in pure horror.

It was burning his neck out,
but you could hear it crackle.

I'm sorry you had a beastly time.

I just wanted to get stinko
and wake up somewhere

with clean sheets and three egg omelets.

I wanted something.

So I wanted him.

I do love you, Mrs. Book.

Ditto.

- Book.
- Yes?

- We never really talk.
- Talk?

About the arrangement.

What's to talk about?

Well, to see that...
all is well, that we're both okay.

All is well.
Look, you left a light on for me.

I could be making love in this.

In the dark.

Has anyone told Victor Orr's wife?

It's not like she was
expecting him to come home.

Do you know who she is?

I don't really know who he was.

Still.

I suppose he did get us a night here.

Isn't it marvelous?

No clouds tonight.

No way for the stars to hide.

We never really had a proper honeymoon,
did we?

Bit of a diary clash.

The Luftwaffe had their hearts set
on Eastbourne too.

- The beach was very pebbly anyway.
- And covered in barbed wire.

Doesn't worry you though?
Disappoint you.

- What?
- The absence of landmarks.

Declarations.
Grand gestures.

Oh, no Book.

- In fact, I'm going to make one now.
- Who is?

Let's order a bloody huge bottle
of champagne.

Got our papers,

stamped and signed.
Tickets too.

Can't you do anything discreetly, my love.

We have five minutes till it leaves.
Platform six.

We're going to be in Paris for breakfast.

There are no Nazis in Paris,
but there are croissants,

so it's all going to be fine.

I can't come with you, Book.

For the same reason that you must leave.

It's so crowded here.
May I sit down with you?

Of course.

The train to Paris
is ready to leave on platform six.

Oh, and I must return this to you, my...

My...
My dear fellow.

I love a good book.

A beautiful book.

And how easy it is to...

To picture myself...

On some winter evening...

In the country...

lying with this particular book.

It moves me so much.

But I'm afraid I cannot keep it.

I know it's frailties.

And some books get burned, you know.

And I should not like to be responsible
for the loss of this one.

Because it is so dear to me.

That I know it by heart.

Henceforth,

wherever thou mayst roam,

my blessing,

like a line of light...

Is on the waters of day and night,

and like a beacon guards the home.

Tennyson?

Yes.

You should read German poets.

Mr. Kind.

I'm doing the rounds,
explaining about the situation.

Be so good as to move around

a little less silently,
it arouses suspicion.

Forgive me, Your Royal Highness.
It's my training, you see.

It's mine too.

An engineer is investigating.
I do apologize for any inconvenience.

We are accustomed to hardship.

What are you carrying?
Show me.

This is the Kanun.
The Kanun of Scutari.

Why do you have this?

I'm taking it to Mr. Book,
in the next room.

- He's helping the police.
- This is most interesting.

Continue.

Well, he's a sort of expert witness,
and he's staying here with his wife.

- Who I believe...
- I meant...

continue on your way.

Good night.

I thought you were a bottle of...
How dispiriting.

A book for Mr. Book.

- What is it, dear?
- It was that book you wanted.

Oh, very good.

The lights were on the blink up here.

An engineer is investigating.
I do apologize for any inconvenience.

Is there anything more I can do for you?

Well, tracking down our champagne
would be nice.

Of course.

Extraordinary man.

- Smells nice, though.
- Gardenia.

Capital.
Just what we need.

They're taking their time
with that champagne, aren't they?

I think they're having trouble below.

With the generators.

You don't need champagne, do you, Book?

Just anything with footnotes.

Then the bibliography.

Maybe an erratum slip.

I used to love this place, you know.

In the war, the rooms were cheap.
35 shillings a night.

Well, the ones nearest the V2s, anyway.

Always plenty of life down in the bar.

A bit too much, sometimes.

And now the Walsingham is listing.

Like an old ship.

Well, I'd like to smash
a bottle against it.

Let me tell the story of an old lady fair,

Standing sentinel across the years

in the city's Bonny Square.

Let me tell the story
of the journey down to hell,

for the dear, dilapidated Walsingham Hotel.

Some came to stay.

To rest.
To play.

Some came to labour every day.

Some came to sound the passing bell

for the dear old Walsingham Hotel.

But who killed Captain Victor Orr?

Princess, waiter, maid, or more?

Who came to sound the final knell

for the dear old Walsingham Hotel?

Well, then.

That's that.

- What was that?
- Ah.

Eadie.
Eadie, are you okay?

There's another one, a man.
They want to kill us.

One more step and I'll...

Sync and corrections: minouhse
www.addic7ed.com