Original subtitles

Subtitling made possible by RLJ Entertainment

We commend unto Thy hands of mercy, most merciful father,

the soul of this, our dear brother departed.

[ Bird squawks in distance]

And we commit his body to be consumed by fire.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

And we beseech Thine infinite goodness

to give us grace to live in Thy fear and love...

...and to die in Thy favor.

[Whistle blows]

POIROT: My dear friend, one moment please.

I am simply trying to ascertain

why it is that I have been kidnapped

and find myself hurtling through the countryside of England

at a speed which is quite alarming.

We're going down to a place called Lytchett St. Mary.

There was a cremation up north the day before yesterday

of a client and an old friend of my father's, Richard Abernethie.

Richard died a widower with no children.

They're a rather disconnected bunch, the Abernethies.

Not close.

There's Helen.

She was married to Richard's youngest brother, Leo.

He died some years ago.

Their son, George, is a bit wild, but likable enough.

- George. - Don't, Mother.

We'll have to talk about it at some point.

There's nothing to talk about.

ENTWHISTLE: George's cousin Rosamund went on the stage

and married an actor, Michael Shane.

Don't overdo it. Nobody will be fooled.

Shut up, Michael. You don't know what I'm...

ENTWHISTLE: Her sister, Susannah,

does good works for the church.

- Bye-bye. - Thank you.

ENTWHISTLE: Maude is married to Richard's brother Timothy.

He was too ill to attend the funeral.

Maude, I know you want to get back to Timothy.

I'll whiz through things as quickly as I can.

Please don't rush things on my account, Mr. Entwhistle.

ENTWHISTLE: And then, of course, there's Cora,

Richard's youngest sister.

It was always understood that Cora

wasn't quite the full shilling.

The "full shilling"?

Not subnormal, you understand.

But given to making up stories

and blurting out things that were better left unsaid.

And that day, she was more excitable than ever

to be back at Enderby.

[Birds chirping]

Enderby!

I've missed it so much.

- Madam. - Thank you.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

All this from corn plasters.

It just doesn't have any gravitas, does it?

Why, everything's the same.

It hasn't changed a bit!

I don't know why we've all come, really.

George is going to get the lion's share

and the rest of us tuppence ha' penny.

What?

Oh, yes.

Well, I might throw out a little Maundy money

if you all promise to be good.

Helen says you're working

for the church mission association, Susannah.

- Yes. Yes. I am. - Highly commendable.

We're trying to help the needy children in Africa.

Poor Richard.

Yes.

ENTWHISTLE: Most of the younger members of the family

had only heard about Cora.

I'd only met her once.

She hadn't changed much.

Still as unguarded as ever.

Dear, dear Lanscombe.

Do you remember when you used to bring meringues

out to the tree house for us?

- WOMAN: Madam? - Aye, I do, Miss Cora.

We had a tree house in the grounds.

We'd camp out down there when there were parties

and watch the guests arrive.

Timothy; your father, Leo; your mother, Geraldine; and me.

Oh. The doll's house.

[ Gasps ] It's still here.

And the same old toasting fork we used to toast muffins on.

Cora hasn't changed.

Just put on weight.

CORA: And all the books and all the paintings.

Honestly, what a fright.

The outfit is totally unsuitable.

And look at that false hair.

Don't be catty, Rosamund.

Aunt Cora ran off with a penniless Italian painter.

She was just a girl.

It's rather romantic.

I have to go and see the old tree house.

Oh.

It seems downright unbelievable, looking at her now.

George.

Gilbert.

Have you come to pray for my salvation?

[Whistle blows]

And then...

You read the will?

Yes.

You see, the family expected his nephew George

to get the lion's share, as he was Richard's favorite,

while his brother Timothy would get nothing at all.

They'd fallen out years ago.

As you may know,

Richard appointed me executor of his will.

Did he leave me anything?

After legacies for the servants,

an annuity for Lanscombe, and a small award for myself,

the house and the estate are to be sold

and the proceeds divided equally between Timothy,

Cora, Rosamund, Susannah, and Helen.

[ Clock ticking ]

What about George?

ENTWHISTLE: It seems George has been disinherited.

- How much? - [ Door closes ]

ENTWHISTLE: I can't say with any accuracy, but it should be ample

to cover your needs for the foreseeable future.

Oh, goody. I shall go to South America.

[Laughs]

I was as surprised as everybody else.

I knew Richard had intended George to be the sole heir.

Ah.

That's what had been in every version of the will.

I'd been on leave,

so I hadn't had a chance to read this latest version.

Richard did change it frequently--

adding this and that.

But never so dramatically as this.

[Whistle blows]

Helen, could I ask you to stay on

and go through Richard's things?

I can't believe that Richard has disinherited George.

I was here with him at Enderby, almost to the last.

I nursed him.

He always led me to believe

that George was to inherit the estate.

To change his mind without a word of warning.

Yes. He didn't say anything to me.

But at least you're all right.

Your visits to him were a great help.

Oh, for heaven's sake.

It's George I'm concerned with.

ENTWHISTLE: And then Cora properly put the cat

among the pigeons.

Still, it's been hushed up very well.

Of course, it's quite the right thing to do.

I mean, it can't do any good, making it public.

I'm sorry. I don't quite understand what you mean, Cora.

But-- But he was murdered, wasn't he?

[ Exhales sharply] Aunt Cora!

Cora, really.

Oh. Sorry. I-I didn't mean--

Oh, how stupid of me.

I did think from what he said...

Oh, dear. Forget I said anything.

It was really very stupid.

Please forget it.

I-I know I'm always saying the wrong thing.

Sorry.

I'll make arrangements for the house and the estate

to be put up for sale as soon as possible.

[Whistle blows]

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

Ah.

So this is where we are going, huh?

To see this Cora and ask her to explain?

We're going to see her, yes.

But unfortunately, we can't ask her to explain.

You see, yesterday afternoon,

Cora was hacked to death by an intruder with a hatchet.

The doctor puts the murder in the afternoon,

no later than 4:30, probably much nearer 2:00.

Somebody smashed the kitchen window

and attacked Mrs. Gallaccio in her bed.

A particularly brutal attack, as you saw.

Six or seven blows were struck.

She was in her bed during the daytime?

She'd slept badly.

She sent the companion into Reading

to exchange some library books

and took a couple of sleeping pills.

So she'd have been drowsy

if not already asleep when they broke in.

So a hatchet seems, well, excessive, to say the least.

I suppose the companion could have done it.

Two women living together alone.

You never know what quarrels and resentments build up.

But by all accounts, they got on well.

And was anything stolen, Inspector?

Just a few bits and pieces of jewelry.

Nothing of any value.

And they could have taken whatever they wanted.

And this is the odd thing.

We found them shoved in a hedge not far from the cottage.

I suppose the murderer may have had a sudden panic

or a fit of remorse.

But in my experience of criminals, it's unusual.

So, with your permission of course, Inspector,

I would like to pay a visit to this companion.

Oh, please do.

She's a sensible enough woman.

Let me know if she says anything new.

Oui. Merci.

ENTWHISTLE: And then, on top of everything else,

I discovered there was a break-in at the office

on the day of the funeral.

The Enderby deeds are missing,

and I haven't had a chance to attend to it.

But if the deeds are missing...

The house can't be sold

and the family can't get their share of the money.

A break-in on the day of the funeral.

The deeds of the house go missing.

This is indeed a big coincidence,

n'est-ce pas, monsieur?

Yes, I suppose it is.

Listen, Poirot.

You will take the case on, won't you?

It would be a great favor to me if you did.

Oui, monsieur. I will take the case.

MISS GILCHRIST: The inspector assures me she didn't suffer.

The first blow would have killed her.

Oh, dear, I do hope so.

I'm so glad you've come, Mr. Entwhistle.

Mr. Poirot.

Mademoiselle.

I don't know Mrs. Gallaccio's family.

I'm rather nervous about meeting them.

Mrs. Gallaccio bought them at sales.

She always thought there was a chance

of picking up something worthwhile.

They're Mrs. Gallaccio's own paintings.

They're very good, aren't they?

Oui.

Of course, I don't know enough to judge,

although my father was a painter.

Not a very successful one, unfortunately.

But Mrs. Gallaccio knew a great deal about artistic things,

poorsouL

[Sniffs] Ah.

It is the oil paint.

Yes.

She liked to paint in here.

And you got on well with your employer, mademoiselle?

Oh, yes.

In some ways, she was rather like a child.

She was not an intellectual.

MISS GILCHRIST: Perhaps more of an instinctive.

But she was very shrewd, Mr. Entwhistle.

It quite surprised me sometimes

how she hit the nail on the head.

And you had been with her for a long time, huh?

- Three and a half years. - Ah.

You acted as companion and, uh, looked after the house?

I did the cooking and light dusting.

None of the rough.

Mrs. Panter from the village came in for that.

I don't think of myself as a servant, Mr. Entwhistle.

I would very much like to see the bedroom of Mme. Gallaccio--

if that is convenient.

[Hinges squeak]

Inspector Morton said it was all right to clean

after the police had finished.

I haven't touched her personal things, of course.

Bon.

Did Cora talk about her brother's funeral?

She said the chapel was filled with flowers.

She was very sorry not to see her other brother-- Timothy?

ENTWHISTLE: Timothy, yes.

Oh.

C'est très délicieux.

These scones, they are made by you?

I've always had a hand with cakes.

Oh, dear. That sounds as if I'm boasting.

No, no, no. Not at all.

You do not boast, mademoiselle.

Tell to me, if you please--

How was Mme. Gallaccio when she returned from the funeral?

The night she got back,

she was happier than I'd seen her for some time.

She asked me if I'd like to go to South America.

I said it would be a thing to dream about.

And she said, "We'll go."

Just like that.

I guessed her brother had decided to leave her some money

after his visit here.

He came down here?

Yes. About three weeks ago.

It was a surprise for Mrs. Gallaccio.

She hadn't seen him since before her marriage.

I-It quite upset her...

...realizing he was so ill.

He told Cora he was ill?

Yes.

It reminded me of an old aunt of mine.

I wondered if he might be suffering

from some softening of the brain.

Why did you think this?

Mrs. Gallaccio said he'd started to get ideas

that someone was trying to poison him.

What?

Please go on, mademoiselle.

She dismissed it, of course.

Old people get fancies like that, don't they?

[ Dog barking ]

SUSANNAH: Imagine the desperation of the people

when the rain doesn't come and the crop fails.

It's hard for us here in England to believe there is poverty

and hunger in the empire.

Our vision of Africa is one of exoticism and adventure.

But the mission at Kasane is a hand-to-mouth affair.

Most of the children there cannot read or write.

They have no means of improving their lives

so they may escape from poverty in the future.

These children need a school.

Our mission in Bechuanaland is to bring education

and, above all, hope to the people living there.

I hope you will all give as generously as you can.

Thank you for coming.

[Applause]

So few people are interested in mission work.

It's a little dispiriting.

Susannah...

Gilbert-- Mr. Entwhistle rang with the most shocking news.

It's Cora.

She's been murdered.

What?

It seems a burglar broke into her cottage

the day after the funeral.

He stole some jewelry, and he killed her.

Oh, no.

Well, she must have good nerves to stay in there on her own.

I suspect it is that she has nowhere to go

until she gets another situation.

Uh, monsieur, I discovered this.

RICHARD: "And please don't say anything to anyone

about what I told you.

It may be a mistake.

Your loving brother, Richard."

Lord.

Does that mean he told Cora

who he thought was trying to poison him?

Perhaps.

Cora Gallaccio announces that her brother has been murdered,

and then the very next day she is killed most brutally.

Well, let us suppose that she was speaking the truth

and that your friend Richard Abernethie was indeed poisoned.

Who benefited from the death of Richard?

The whole family. Apart from George, of course.

And myself, to a small degree.

Ah. So you yourself are a suspect?

- Now, look here, Poirot. - Non, non, non, monsieur.

Je fais une blague. I make a joke, huh?

[ Chuckles ]

Monsieur, we shall go to see the family.

And we shall tell to them

that I investigate the death of Cora only.

That way, we may be able to catch them off their guard.

It is necessary that I ascertain the whereabouts

of each and every member of that family

on the day after the funeral.

MAN: You're entering just a tad early, my sweet.

MISS SORREL: So I don't enter

on "And now he says he's going to show her the evidence"?

No. No. No.

Darling, you enter on "She despises him."

And you don't sit down immediately.

You just keep standing...

How exciting. You're most frightfully famous.

You read people's minds-- psychology sort of thing.

Mais, d'accord.

It is the "why" of human behavior that interests me.

I'd like to murder that director.

MAN: Miss Sorrel, do come back!

My apologies, madame,

for intruding at this time so sensitive.

It is unfortunate, is it not,

to lose two members of one's family so closely together?

It is, isn't it?

Although I can't think why anyone would want to murder

someone like Aunt Cora.

It would appear that it was a burglar

who broke in to steal some of her possessions.

Please do forgive me,

but it is necessary that I ask of you both

where you were on the day after the funeral.

We were at home till 11:00.

Then you left to have lunch with Oscar.

I was to meet my friend Jane, but we missed each other.

So I had a lovely day shopping.

We dined after the show and got back to the flat about midnight.

You do not feel well, madame?

[Sighs]

First-night nerves.

I'm always queasy,

especially when it's absolute rubbish, like this one.

I must say, it's the most marvelous luck,

Uncle Richard leaving us all this lovely money just now.

It means that we can produce our own plays.

Um, we've got the chance of an option on a rather good piece.

Terrific lead for me and a... a good part for Rosamund.

It will make Michael's career.

Larry Olivier had better watch out.

I'm afraid there's a bit of a delay

with some of the documents for the house.

The money won't be available immediately.

But we can get an advance.

Michael said we could.

It's terribly important.

There's no real hurry, sir.

It's just a question of whether or not to take up the option.

MAN: Michael?

Excuse me. I-I think I'm on.

Did Aunt Cora leave any money?

She left what she had to your sister.

Well, why Susannah, I'd like to know.

MAN: Michael, if you would be so kind.

But she hardly knew me.

And there's her share of the estate, of course.

Well... it all helps.

If you please to forgive me,

it is necessary that I ask of you both as to your whereabouts

on the day after the funeral of Richard Abernethie.

Helen was at Enderby.

I asked her to stay on to look through Richard's things.

Thank you, Gilbert.

He asked me on the day of the funeral.

And I was beastly to you in return.

Oh, please, Helen. It's quite forgotten.

HELEN: I've come down for a few days

to see Rosamund and Michael's play.

I'm staying with Susannah.

MAN: Susannah!

George. Where have you been?

[ Door closes ]

Are you all right?

I'm perfectly all right, Mother. Why do you ask?

Aunt Cora's murder is all over this rag.

ENTWHISTLE: George, this is Hercule Poirot.

I've asked him to look into the circumstances.

I had no idea you had such famous friends.

- How do you do, Poirot? - Monsieur.

Poor old Aunt Cora.

I got the feeling she was just about to kick over the traces.

Don't be flippant about her, George.

ENTWHISTLE: I tried to reach you the day after the funeral

to see if everything was all right,

and I couldn't get hold of you.

Yes. I went to the races at Hurst Park.

Had two winners, as a matter of fact.

And your whereabouts, mademoiselle?

I went to the P&O shipping line

to inquire about traveling to Africa.

You're going to Africa?

Yes. As soon as I can get a passage.

Mesdames, merci.

Monsieur, tell to me, if you please,

the two horses on which you won some money.

What were their names?

Gaymarck and Isambard II.

Ah.

Merci.

When was the last time you saw Cora Gallaccio, madame?

Oh, I hadn't seen Cora since our wedding.

I didn't like to say to Timothy,

"Your youngest sister is completely batty,"

but I'm afraid that's what I thought.

And she had this strange habit of putting her head on one side.

Rather like a bird.

Very odd.

Very odd.

[ Pills rattling, door opens]

Mr. Entwhistle has arrived, Timothy, with Mr. Poirot.

[ Pills rattle]

Monsieur.

Oh.

Good of you to come, Entwhistle.

I, uh, I mustn't exert myself. It's doctor's orders.

Well, I can hardly believe it.

Poor little Cora, killed with a hatchet.

What's the damned country coming to, I'd like to know.

Mr. Poirot is looking into Cora's death.

Oh.

I don't know what we want a private detective for.

My commiserations, M. Abernethie.

It is a time most difficult for the family, huh?

I understand that your brother, he also died recently.

This is what happens when you get into bed with socialists.

I mean, the whole country's falling apart.

Look at the state we're in.

We can't get decent servants.

Maude here, working herself to a shadow,

messing about in the kitchen.

Oh, by the way, Maudie,

I think a lemon syllabub would go very nicely

with the sole tonight.

Of-- Of course, dear.

And, uh, perhaps a little clear soup first, hmm?

Psst, psst, psst.

Well, uh, I'll leave you to it.

Do take a seat, Entwhistle.

Thank you.

Now, uh, look here.

You know, Richard never said anything to me

about wanting a cremation.

Now, who authorized that, may I ask?

Helen. It was what he wanted.

Oh.

There'll be some delay over probate, I'm afraid.

We had a break-in at the office.

The Enderby deeds seem to be temporarily misplaced.

Oh, well. There's often a delay in these things.

But the will of your brother

was a surprise most pleasant, n'est-ce pas?

I understand that you expected to receive nothing.

Well, it's good of him to let bygones be bygones, you know.

Oui.

[ Metal clanks, steam hisses]

Madame is mending the car.

Oh, yes. She's had to learn how.

[ Chuckles ]

We can't afford the cost of garages,

and, I mean, obviously I can't do it.

That old heap is always breaking down.

Broke down on the way home from the funeral.

Didn't manage to mend it herself.

She had to take it to a garage.

Ended up having to put up overnight.

Oh, the cost of hotels these days.

You know, it's outrageous.

Oui. C'est scandaleux.

Now, look, Entwhistle.

I'm not well enough

to have anything to do with inquests or burials.

You'll have to attend to all that side of things for Cora.

I mean, order a wreath, of course.

I don't know what one puts on a stone when it's murder.

You can't very well write "entered into rest"

or anything like that.

"Oh, Lord, Thou hast seen my wrong.

Judge Thou my case."

It is the Bible. Lamentations.

Yes.

Yes, it's appropriate-- if somewhat melodramatic.

Don't shoot.

I never meant for it to turn out like this.

Damn you.

You deserve to die for what you've done.

[ Gasps]

[ Light applause]

[ Hinges squeaking]

[ Scattered applause]

HELEN: You two were terribly good.

SUSANNAH: Oh, yes. You were--

You don't have to be polite.

GEORGE: Thank goodness for that. Play's an absolute dog.

We know. There's no advance.

We're taking bets we'll close before the end of the week.

One becomes an actor because one loves the theater.

And one ends up playing most appalling tripe.

Any actor would kill for good parts.

Gosh. It is enormous!

[Laughs]

It must be quite terrifying.

Not when you're used to it, Aunt Helen.

The audience becomes one's bosom pal.

Drink, anyone?

Isn't it terribly sad about Aunt Cora?

I was looking at her at the funeral

thinking one might as well be dead if one looked like that.

And now she is. [ Snorts]

[Laughs]

That is a wicked thing to say.

Oh, don't be so po-faced.

Entwhistle obviously took what Cora had to say

about Richard at the funeral seriously.

If somebody murdered Uncle Richard

and then realized Aunt Cora knew,

they'd have to kill her, wouldn't they?

Otherwise she might go to the police.

And we were the ones who heard her say it.

So Poirot thinks one of us must be the murderer.

[ Laughter, indistinct conversations ]

Hello.

Hmm?

Why didn't you come to the restaurant with us?

I am sorry Uncle Richard cut you out of the will.

It was a cruel thing to do.

But you can't let it send you off the rails.

And there's no reason to be so beastly to your mother.

On the contrary.

There's every reason.

In the end, what does the money matter?

You'd only lose it on horses or spend it on drink.

Well, you're out of it now, aren't you?

Off to Africa with the missionaries.

George, don't.

No, Susannah.

[ Laughter]

They try to pull the wool upon my eyes, monsieur.

They are all lying, the whole family.

Not all of them, surely.

Oui.

They are all lying

about where they were on the day after the funeral.

Each and every one of them could have been in Lytchett St. Mary

and murdered Cora Gallaccio.

No. They lie very well.

They are all performers.

[Bird calling]

Welcome to Enderby, Mr. Poirot.

Merci.

Ah. C'est magnifique.

Dr. Larraby, I thank you so much for coming here to see me.

Tell to me, if you please--

If I wanted to poison a man who is sick

and I wish that his doctors to suspect nothing,

how would I achieve this?

Y-You'd have to use some kind of narcotic

so there was no sign of cyanosis for anyone to spot.

And then arrange for his body to be cremated

so that no evidence can be found.

It is possible.

If I'd had any suspicion about Richard's death,

I would have informed the police immediately.

But cremation is a choice most unusual

for an English gentleman, is it not?

Well, I was somewhat surprised, I must admit.

But that does not mean that he was poisoned.

He died of natural causes.

Oh, so you can say with certainty

that Richard Abernethie, he was not poisoned, huh?

Uh, n-no.

I wish I could.

It is possible that someone put a narcotic in his food

or extracted the oil from his vitamin tablets and replaced it.

But why would anyone want to do that?

Ah.

M. Lanscombe?

Oh, Mr. Poirot.

Oui. Oui.

Would you please be kind enough to tell me--

In your opinion, is it possible that M. Richard Abernethie

took too much of his medicine in error?

Oh, no, sir.

The master's wits were as sharp as they'd always been

right to the end.

Besides, Mrs. Helen was here

to keep an eye on things just in case.

So Mme. Helen Abernethie was staying here until Richard died?

Aye, she was.

She nursed him right to the end.

And were there any other visits to the house

during those last days?

Or did anything occur that would have upset him?

Well, the vicar came to tea the day before.

Oh, and the morning he died, we had some nuns call.

What is Nunscall?

Nuns.

Ah. Religieux?

- Yeah. - Oui.

Did they stay for long?

Oh, no, sir.

They were collecting for charity.

I understand that M. Richard Abernethie,

he had some family to stay during those last weeks?

Aye, they did.

First was Miss Rosamund and her husband,

followed by Miss Susannah.

And, uh, young George came last of all.

Was there anything unusual about these visits?

Well, the master and George had a terrible fight.

They got on well as a rule, but on that day...

[Sighs]

I'd never seen them both so angry and upset.

George was in a terrible state.

Get out of my way!

[ Glass shatters ]

LANSCOMBE: It was the day before the master died.

He never had a chance to make it up with George.

And you were one of the witnesses to the will,

were you not?

Aye.

Did you read the contents?

Well, he asked me to.

But the truth is, sir...

the old eyes aren't what they were.

I didn't want to tell him I couldn't see...

in case he asked me to go.

But, uh, I just looked down the page and--

Page?

It was more than a page.

Oh, no, sir.

I remember it well.

It were just one page.

ENTWHISTLE: It's not Richard's signature.

It's very like it, but it's not his signature.

It's a fake, Poirot. The whole bloody thing's a fake.

How could I not have spotted it?

Because, mon ami, it is a very good fake.

Very good indeed.

Miss Gilchrist?

Susannah Henderson.

I'm Mrs. Gallaccio's niece.

Oh. I-I'm sorry. C-Come in.

Come in, Miss Henderson.

Thank you.

I seem to have startled you.

You did, actually.

I'm not normally a nervous person,

but I've been jumpy since the police constable left.

The doorbell rang half an hour ago,

and I could hardly bring myself to answer it.

Which is silly, as a murderer is unlikely to come back

and ring the doorbell, isn't he?

It was only a nun collecting for charity.

Miss Gilchrist, Aunt Cora left what she had to me.

I'll be staying a few days to go through her things.

Now, what are your plans for the future, Miss Gilchrist?

I have to find another position.

Well, you're welcome to stay on here till you find one.

And I hope three months' salary will help.

That's very generous, Miss Henderson.

[Hinges squeak]

These are Mrs. Gallaccio's own paintings.

She and Mr. Gallaccio lived in Brittany

and then in Cornwall.

Fishing boats are so picturesque, aren't they?

Mm.

Mrs. Gallaccio did say she'd leave me some of her paintings.

These ones she painted herself, I mean, as a memento.

[ Clock ticking ]

Oh.

Help yourself to any of these you want.

Did you want anything else?

Oh, no. Nothing more, thank you.

She left me a lovely amethyst necklace.

One could almost make picture postcards from these.

Did she copy?

No.

Mrs. Gallaccio was a true artist.

[Birds chirping]

George.

I didn't know you were down here.

I came to see if I could lend Susannah a hand.

Susannah's here, too?

Yes.

What brings you down?

I've come to look in on Miss Gilchrist.

One or two odds and ends to sort out with Cora's papers.

HELEN: Mr. Poirot?

Ah. Mme. Abernethie.

Mr. Poirot, are you here because you think Richard was murdered?

[ Exhales sharply]

Madame, I cannot tell

whether M. Richard Abernethie was murdered or not.

But I understand that his sister made a remark to that effect

at the funeral.

I don't like to speak ill of the dead.

But from what I know of Cora,

she wouldn't let the truth stand in the way of a good story.

No, but Richard had been to visit her,

and that much is the truth.

Mr. Poirot, Richard wasn't murdered.

He couldn't have been.

I was here with him almost to the end.

You stayed here often, madame?

He invited me a few times in the last weeks.

He was very low in spirits.

Your son, George, also made a visit

during those last weeks, I understand.

Richard had all the family down, not just George.

Tell to me, madame--

Were you surprised when your son, George,

did not inherit anything from his uncle?

Yes, I was.

It was a cruel thing for Richard to do,

and I find it hard to understand.

I do not think you were meant to understand, madame.

What do you mean?

Well, I suspect that the will that disinherited your son...

it is a fake.

Did they get on well together,

Mme. Helen and M. Richard Abernethie?

WOMAN: Oh, yes.

The master were fond of her. Very fond indeed.

She went to London yesterday to see Miss Rosamund's show.

They seem to whiz up and down to London

for almost anything these days.

She was here all the time until yesterday.

Aye.

No, no. I tell a lie.

She went off in a car one day.

Said she wanted to be on her own.

Can you remember which day was that, madame?

It was the day we had beef.

It must have been the day after the funeral.

She didn't get back till after midnight and couldn't face it.

And I remember thinking it was such a waste.

This were the master's bedroom.

[Hinges squeak]

And his medicines, they were kept in here?

Yes, sir. By his bed.

Merci.

So, this is where...

Yes.

That's one of Mr. Gallaccio's paintings.

Racy.

Are you always such a prude, Susannah?

[ Doorbell rings]

Oh. Excuse me.

Buon giorno, Signorina Gilchrist.

Oh, dear.

Oh, my goodness.

You'd better come in, Mr. Gallaccio.

Grazie.

It's Mr. Gallaccio.

Oh. Are you Cora's ex-husband?

S-

Um, Cora had, uh, written a letter

asking me to come to look at a painting she had found

which she, uh, she thought might be valuable.

Gilbert Entwhistle, family solicitor.

Piacere.

Susannah Henderson, Cora's niece.

I am sad to meet you at this sorrowful time, signorina.

George Abernethie.

Piacere.

Perhaps this is not the most appropriate time

for the valuing, signorina.

It is better I take the painting away.

No, old chap. I don't think anything should leave the house.

No. You must value the painting now that you're here.

Mrs. Gallaccio hoped it might be an Italian primitive.

Do you think it's worth anything?

Accumulato sporco per molti anni.

Uh, dirt.

Dirt is a wonderful thing.

It gives a patina of, uh, romance

to even a very bad painting.

I am glad perhaps I do not have to disappoint poor Cora.

This painting is probably not even worth

the meager shillings she paid for it.

Mi dispiace.

You were hoping for something valuable, Susannah?

I thought you had no interest in worldly possessions.

It's not for me, George.

It's for school books in Bechuanaland.

Ah.

[Birds chirping]

I tried to ring George to tell him about the will,

but I can't get hold of him.

He said he'd be at home. I don't know where he can be.

Who would hate him that much?

Timothy?

He didn't expect to get anything.

But to forge a will is a crime most serious, madame.

The police, they will have to be informed.

It must have been substituted on the day of the funeral.

Why?

Well, because until then, it was locked in the safe

at the offices of M. Entwhistle.

Tell me, madame--

Do you remember anyone going off alone that day?

Cora wandered off to see the tree house.

George stormed out, of course,

but that was after the will was read.

And I remember Susannah going somewhere, too.

[ Sighs] It's no good.

There was so much coming and going.

I felt there was something wrong that day.

In what way wrong, madame?

Unexpected or surprising?

Sinister, even?

Not sinister, no.

More a sense of something not being quite right.

I can't put my finger on what it was.

Do not try to think of it, madame.

Sooner or later it will-- how do you say?--

plop into the mind.

[ Engine turns off]

[Coughs]

TIMOTHY: Come on, Maude.

MAUDE: [ Coughing ]

What on earth are you doing here?

If the house can't be sold and we can't get our money...

we're just going to stay here until it's sorted out.

I don't see why you should have the run of my family home

and full use of the servants when Maude and I are struggling,

with no one so much as to make us a-a cup--

A __ [ Coughs]

A cup of tea.

Get Lanscombe, Maude.

Tell him to bring the chair.

[Coughs]

Cora was not an artist.

But she had the temperament of an artist.

She seemed to me a woman

who didn't care tuppence about convention

or doing the right thing.

Admirable, I'd say.

And very refreshing.

As a girl, she was, um, pieno di vita.

Come si dice? Uh, how you say?

So full of life.

Oh, excuse me.

I must, uh, catch the train back to London.

- Signorina. - Goodbye, Mr. Gallaccio.

It's very nice to meet you.

Thank you. Bye.

I'd better be going, too.

Find my way back to the hotel.

Yes. It's easy to miss.

But you can see the church--

So...

So...

[ Door closes ]

MISS GILCHRIST: Oh. Oh, what's this?

How strange.

The postman must have called.

This was behind the umbrella stand.

It's addressed to me, but I'm not expecting anything.

Do you know Mr. Gallaccio well, Miss Gilchrist?

- No, not well. - [ Paper rustling ]

He's been here a couple of times.

It looks like wedding cake.

Did Aunt Cora write to him often?

Well, yes. Fairly often, I suppose.

SUSAN NAH: [Sighs]

It is!

Who can it be from?

John and Mary.

Can't think who they are.

It could be Dorothy's daughter. Her name was Mary.

But I-I haven't heard of a wedding.

Would either of you like some of this?

GEORGE: Not for me.

I don't like fruitcake.

Poor Aunt Cora.

Maybe I could sleep here, on the couch.

SUSANNAH: No.

We mustn't take advantage of you, Miss Gilchrist.

George can put up in the village.

George.

It just seemed odd to me.

I-I thought I'd better let you know right away.

It's the King's Arms Hotel, Lytchett St. Mary.

Of course, there may be a perfectly innocent explanation.

C'est possible, bien sûr.

That is most useful information, monsieur.

Most useful indeed.

I will join you there in the morning.

Bonne nuit, mon ami. A demain.

ENTWHISTLE: Good night.

[Bell chimes]

TIMOTHY: There's no going back now.

I didn't know it was going to turn out like this, did I?

I certainly didn't think

that painted little French popinjay was going to be here,

sticking his nose where it doesn't concern him.

MAUDE: It's a disaster, Timothy.

We'll get caught.

Not if we keep our nerve.

We've just got to make it seem as if it never happened.

WOMAN: Help me.

[ Gasping ]

Help. Help.

[Hinges squeak]

[Gasping continues]

[Coughs]

[ Gasping ]

What's wrong?

[Groaning]

Are you ill?

Yes. I-I...

I-I'll get you some bicarbonate.

No, no, no. Get me an ambulance.

We'll call a doctor in the morning.

Get an ambulance quickly.

[ Breathing heavily]

I think I'm dying.

[ Doorbell rings]

Miss Henderson?

Yes.

I'm Inspector Morton, Lytchett St. Mary Police.

Are you sure you gave the doctor a complete account

of what Miss Gilchrist had to eat and drink last night?

Yes. We had the same thing.

Macaroni au gratin and a custard pudding.

Coffee afterwards. Why?

She must have had something that you didn't have.

Poirot, somebody's tried to poison Miss Gilchrist

with arsenic.

No. That's impossible.

Oh.

The-- The wedding cake.

Um, I'm afraid I've not finished clearing up in here.

[ Clock ticking ]

POIROT: Et voilé.

Put a piece of wedding cake underneath a pillow,

and you will dream of your future husband.

That is how the saying, it goes, n'est-ce pas?

Why on earth didn't she tell us?

No doubt because she felt

that she would appear foolish having such hopes.

I am so very sorry, mademoiselle.

Why would anyone want to kill me, Mr. Poirot?

I've nothing to leave.

Nobody would benefit from my death.

I think you must not stay at the cottage.

But where can I go?

When you are recovered, you must come to Enderby.

It is the family home of the Abernethies,

and I myself will be there.

No. No.

Mr. Poirot, I-I couldn't.

Mlle. Gilchrist,

I am commissioned to find the murderer of Mme. Gallaccio.

And it is possible that you may be able to assist me.

But I don't know who killed Mrs. Gallaccio.

But you may know more than you think.

Susannah?

What are you doing?

- I am going. - Where?

I don't know. Anywhere.

Africa.

You can't run away now.

Don't be cowardly.

You are being beastly since you lost out on that money.

It's not about the money.

Isn't it?

Isn't that all you really care about?

Don't go, Susannah.

We're in too deep.

I'm frightened.

Don't be frightened.

When you've done what I've done,

fear becomes somehow meaningless.

Signore Gallaccio.

Signore Entwhistle.

May I introduce M. Hercule Poirot.

Signore. I have heard of you, of course.

And me also of you, signore.

Your reputation, it goes before you.

I am commissioned to investigate

the murder of your late wife, signore.

I wish to invite you to Enderby,

the home of her brother, Richard Abernethie.

Are you sure I would be welcome?

I was not allowed in the house of Signore Abernethie

when he was alive.

Well, the family,

they are choosing keepsakes from the house before it is sold.

Perhaps you would like to choose something

on behalf of your late wife.

If you insist, I come.

Merci, signore.

- Good day. - Signore.

So, do you think he's the murderer, Poirot?

I must get up to Enderby myself.

I hate the thought of poor Helen stuck there

with Timothy and Maude.

I also wish to speak to Mme. Helen Abernethie.

I will meet you there, mon ami.

But first I must go to the theater.

Uh, now, look, Poirot. Please don't pester Helen.

She had nothing to do with all this.

She wants to find out the truth as much as we do.

But she has no alibi for the day after the funeral.

- She was at Enderby. - No, no, no.

She left Enderby early in the morning

and did not return until late at night.

Well...

Well, that's as may be.

But she didn't kill anyone. She wouldn't.

She benefited from the death of Richard Abernethie,

just like the others.

You are fond of Helen Abernethie, mon ami?

Ah.

It is easy to let the tender feelings cloud the judgment.

WOMAN: Check in her dressing room.

MAN: She's not there.

WOMAN: But you said you'd get away tonight.

MAN: I'll make up for it on Friday, I promise.

Hmm?

WOMAN ON P.A.: Miss Dainton, your call.

Miss Dainton.

MAN: Change those shelves.

Poirot.

Um, Miss Dainton and I

were just running through some lines from the play.

I see.

So you rehearse your parts?

Hm. You're not trying to insinuate anything, are you?

Oh, no, no, no, monsieur. I never insinuate.

But I-I was hoping to see your wife.

You just missed her.

She popped out.

Ah.

I would like to invite you both to Enderby.

M. Entwhistle wishes the family to choose some keepsakes

from the house before it is sold.

[Vehicles passing ]

You seem to be at home in this house, madame.

It is sad that it is to be sold, n'est-ce pas?

One has to accept what comes in life, Mr. Poirot.

There's no point in regrets and looking back.

One could spend one's whole life regretting.

D'accord.

Madame, on the day before Richard died,

what did he and George argue about?

Oh!

How careless of me.

Oh, please.

I've, um, really no idea.

They were very fond of each other.

They were bound to have disagreements.

[Bell chiming]

Madame, tell to me, if you please--

Where did you go on the day after the funeral,

the day of the murder of Cora Gallaccio?

So I am a suspect in your investigations.

Madame, I only wish to discover the truth,

and I understand that that is your wish also.

I went to scatter Richard's ashes.

There's a place out on the moors he was very fond of.

Did anyone see you there?

No.

It's an isolated spot.

Mm.

Madame, I have invited the family to come here to Enderby.

You're setting a trap for someone?

No.

I do not yet know enough.

But I do know about psychology, madame.

And when people are together in the room and they talk,

the truth, sooner or later, it will always be revealed.

M. Timothy, the family has been invited here to--

[ Breathing heavily]

You have trouble with the breathing, monsieur?

Asthma, old chap.

Since I was a boy.

It's worse amongst-- amongst the flora, do you see?

Oh, Timothy. Are you all right now?

Really, Mr. Poirot.

- He's a very sick man. - ENTWHISTLE: Poirot!

Poirot!

The deeds of the house--

I've just found them in my briefcase.

I must have been carrying them 'round with me the whole time.

Helen.

The deeds-- They've just turned up.

So the house can be sold.

I'm going to the village.

I want to get these sent down to the office right away.

We'll drive up in the morning, then.

Okay. Oh, I'll be late tonight.

I'm dining with Oscar.

Darling Oscar.

Give him my love.

He'll be pleased to see you after all this time.

Anyone would think I hadn't seen him in months.

We lunched together the day after the funeral.

How funny.

He rang up yesterday and said he hadn't seen you

since the opening night of "Silver Swan," which was, oh,

six weeks ago?

He's forgotten.

The old idiot's going off his head.

Don't take me for a fool, Michael.

You were nowhere near Oscar that day.

What about you?

You said you were going shopping with Jane.

Jane's in America. Has been for months.

We do want to take up the option and get this play on, don't we?

"Want to"?

It's the part I've always dreamed of.

It'll make me a star.

One mustn't take too many risks, then, must one?

[ Brake clicks]

Signorina, buon giorno.

Giovanni Gallaccio.

It is wonderful to be here at your beautiful English home.

Uh, no.

I-It's not mine.

Signora, actually.

Ah. S, signora.

Grazie. Grazie.

[ Engine revs, turns off]

Are we choosing keepsakes?

Because if we are, Michael and I want

the green malachite table in the drawing room.

You can't have that, Rosamund. We want it.

And for sentiment's sake,

we should like to have the Spode dessert service.

We shall be quite content with that.

Too late, Uncle.

The Spode's been marked down to me, I'm afraid?

TIMOTHY: "Marked down"? What do you mean, "marked down"?

Nothing's been settled yet.

What do you want with a dessert service?

You're not even married. [ Chuckles ]

I thought no material gifts

could replace your brother, Uncle.

- [ Silverware clatters ] - Damn and blast, George!

Keep out of it!

Does it have to be that particular table, Rosamund?

Oh, do be quiet, Susannah.

But if Timothy really wants it--

Oh, no, no. Don't mind me.

I'm only Richard's last surviving brother.

Don't upset him, Rosamund.

You know his heart is weak.

Uncle Timothy will outlive us all.

He's a creaking gate.

I don't wonder Richard cut you out.

What do you mean?

The table is just right for the new play.

We want to give it the best chance we can.

We don't want it closing as soon as it opened,

like "Murder in Mayfair."

Closed, did it? That's a surprise.

[Glass thuds]

The malachite table is especially nice.

It must be worth a lot of money.

It will be deducted from our share of the estate, of course.

I-I'm so sorry.

I-I didn't mean...

The wax flowers look so right on it.

Really artistic.

MICHAEL: Do you actually think that table

is going to fit in the car, Rosamund?

ROSAMUND: Well, it'll have to, Michael.

I'm not coming back here for anything.

SUSANNAH: Rosamund, you really are the most stubborn--

I...I f-feel rather unwell.

Maude! I need to lie down.

Of course, Timothy.

MICHAEL: Honestly. That man.

How does he do it?

Maude spends her life waiting on him hand and foot.

Yes, it's extraordinary, isn't it...

[ Clears throat]

...the way some women are loyal to buffoons of husbands,

when other men,

men who should inspire real loyalty, are made fools of?

What was Cora's cottage like, Susannah?

Did you see any of her paintings?

SUSAN NAH: Yes.

They were rather...

rather touching.

I think she copied from postcards.

Oh, no. Mrs. Gallaccio would never copy.

She was a real artist.

I remember at least one occasion when she suffered from sunstroke

because she wouldn't stop when the light was right.

Timothy has gone to bed.

Miss Gilchrist, would you kindly prepare a tray

of milk and biscuits?

He needs a snack when he wakes up.

GEORGE: [ Snorts, clears throat]

I-I'll do it right away, Mrs. Abernethie.

[ Door opens]

SUSANNAH: I'm sure Aunt Cora did copy.

I didn't want to press it with Miss Gilchrist here.

And why are you sure, mademoiselle?

Uh...

Well, her paintings are mostly seaside scenes,

and there's one of Polflexan-- the lighthouse and the pier.

But that pier burnt down five years ago.

I remember reading about it.

And her painting is dated last year.

Oh, yes.

And then in her bedroom, I found an old postcard of Polflexan

with the pier still in place.

Was this the first time you made a visit

to Lytchett St. Mary, mademoiselle?

Yes.

Even if she did copy, I mean, it's not a crime, is it?

I mean...

[ Down-tempo music playing ]

M. Entwhistle informs me that interest in buying this house

has been expressed by a convent school,

uh, run by les religieuses.

Merci.

You would say nuns.

[ Dice rattling]

GEORGE: Nuns are a good bet.

They'll look after the old place.

It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to become a nun.

The outfits are terribly flattering.

When they revived "The Miracle Worker,"

Sonia Wells looked too glamorous for words.

I don't think one looks properly at nuns or priests.

At their faces, I mean.

We don't look properly at anyone.

I remember reading somewhere that witnesses in court

often give wildly differing descriptions of the same person.

Is that true, Poirot?

It is so.

SUSANNAH: I find it odd

when sometimes you catch sight of yourself in the mirror

and you say to yourself, "Don't I know that person?"

And then you realize it's you.

[Laughs]

It would be more confusing still if you could really see yourself

and not a mirror image.

Why?

Because no one ever sees themselves as they really are

or as they appear to others.

Whenever one sees oneself in a glass,

it is always as an image that is reversed.

Why does that make a difference?

SUSANNAH: People's faces aren't the same on both sides.

Their mouths go up on one side, down on the other.

And their noses aren't straight. Look. I'll show you.

There. Do you see?

[Laughs]

They're not the same.

ROSAMUND: Here. Let me.

Ah. [ Clears throat]

Well?

[ Laughter]

You should be in bed, mademoiselle.

I'm getting Mr. Timothy's cocoa.

Ah.

Can I make you some?

Oh, that is most kind, but I prefer to make my own.

I hope I'm not speaking out of turn, Mr. Poirot,

but Mrs. Gallaccio is dead,

and nobody in her family seems to really care.

No. That is perhaps because they did not know her as you did.

Young people nowadays seem so uncaring.

They don't know what it is to be alone in the world.

Ah.

The journey of life,

it can be hard for those of us who travel alone, mademoiselle.

Have you always been a companion to a lady?

No. [ Chuckles softly]

I used to have my own tea shop.

Ah.

The Willow Tree.

It was a delightful little place, Mr. Poirot.

All the china was blue willow pattern-- so pretty.

And the cakes were really awfully good,

if I say it myself.

But a Lyons establishment opened up nearby

and my little place failed.

Ah.

Well, this happens to many people in these times, I think.

[Bell chimes]

It's Mr. Timothy's bell.

Ah.

[ Clock ticking ]

Susie, are you really going to Africa?

Yes. I think so.

I wish you weren't, not just now.

Well, why?

You should come.

Might do you some good

to do something for someone other than yourself.

You've become so boringly priggish.

I'm beginning to wonder

if you haven't done something really bad

and you're being holier-than-thou

to make up for it.

Actually, forget about the table.

I want this.

Oh, excusez-moi. I intrude.

Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Poirot. Do come in.

Oh, there's something in here.

It looks like Uncle Richard's will.

"This is the last will and testament of Richard Abernethie

whereby I revoke all former wills made by me.

I-I devise and bequeath

all the residue of my real and personal estate

and any property I have power to dispose of to...

George Abernethie to administer as he wishes."

This can't be right!

What-- This is highly irregular.

Where did you find this, Rosamund?

But we really need the money!

I question the legality of these whole proceedings!

Maude, I must telephone our own solicitor at once!

[ Door closes ]

[ Footsteps approaching ]

George... l know this is what Richard intended.

Who would want to disinherit you?

Just about anyone in the family, I should think.

Well, whoever it was must have murdered Richard.

I can't believe it.

And you think having the money

is going to make up for what you've done?

No. Of course not.

I didn't say that.

I just wish I could make you understand.

I understand perfectly, Mother.

George, you're my son.

You're all I've got.

You want me to say that it's all all right, that I forgive you?

Well, I don't. I'll never forgive you.

POIROT: Because no one ever sees themselves as they really are

or as they appear to others.

Whenever one sees oneself in a glass,

it is always as an image that is reversed.

[ Bell chimes, telephone clicks]

Uh, Mr. Entwhistle, please.

[Bell chimes]

Gilbert?

Ah. Helen.

What is it?

I'm sorry if I woke you, but you're the only one I can trust.

Look, I've been thinking for a while now

that there was something wrong on the day of the funeral.

And I've remembered what it was, but it doesn't make any sense.

It was something about the way--

Helen?

Helen, are you there?

Hello? Are you all right?

Helen?

Helen!

How bad is it?

It looks like a severe concussion.

I'd like to be with her, if that's all right.

Of course.

Helen.

Gilbert.

Signore Gallaccio.

I have a commission for you.

She'll be all right in a day or two if it's a concussion,

won't she?

I hope so.

Lanscombe, do you know where the wax flowers are?

They were on the green malachite table.

Mme. Helen Abernethie broke the cover of glass by accident.

They've been, uh, put in a cupboard under the staircase

with the things that need mending.

SUSANNAH: How you can be thinking about wax flowers

when Aunt Helen has been carted off to hospital?

I'm sorry about Aunt Helen, of course,

but we have meetings about the play next week.

I shouldn't be surprised if that Gallaccio chap took them.

He got a taxi from here in the middle of the night.

Well, he is coming back, isn't he?

Come with me, Michael.

I'm not going into any dark corners by myself

after what happened to Aunt Helen.

What do you mean, Rosamund?

Well, she was coshed, wasn't she?

I thought she fell and hit her head on the doorstep.

Oh, don't be naive.

Somebody coshed her.

SUSANNAH: Oh!

George, is she all right?

ROSAMUND: It's obvious.

A detective in the house looking for clues,

Uncle Richard poisoned, Aunt Cora killed with a hatchet,

Miss Gilchrist sent poisoned wedding cake,

a faked will,

and now Aunt Helen struck down with a blunt instrument.

George.

Whoever faked the will must have coshed Aunt Helen.

You can't think anyone of the family faked the will

and hit Helen on the head?

There was no one else here.

You should be doing that, Poirot.

You're the detective. Find out who faked the will.

- For God's sake! - [ Dishes clatter]

It was me. I faked the will.

I faked the will to disinherit myself.

All right, everyone?

[Birds chirping]

Merci.

So...

...how is she?

She hasn't come 'round yet.

They sent me away.

So it was you who forged the will.

You feel better now that your conscience, it is clear?

You don't understand.

I killed him.

It's not true.

She loved my father. She would never have done that.

George, we fell in love.

- Don't blame her. - I don't believe you!

Leo is my father!

Look, I don't have much time.

This is my last will.

And you are my son, George.

I want you to take over everything.

I am not your son.

You're not my father.

You're not my father!

I didn't want to hear what he was telling me.

He was tearing my life to pieces,

and he didn't seem to realize.

I could see he was sick.

I couldn't stop shouting at him that it wasn't true,

that he wasn't my father.

Then I had the idea of substituting the will.

It was a stupid thing to do, I know.

I wanted to spite him.

My whole life is a lie, you see.

But the real will was burning a hole in my pocket.

I had to get rid of it.

ENTWHISTLE: George.

GEORGE: I killed him, Poirot.

I'm sure of it.

No, monsieur.

It was not an argument that killed M. Richard Abernethie.

[Vehicle approaching ]

If you please to excuse me.

[ Engine turns off]

I'm here to question Susannah Henderson.

She was at the King's Arms Hotel

on the day of Cora Gallaccio's murder,

but she didn't bother to inform us.

It looks as if it wasn't the casual crime we thought it was.

No, Inspector, it was not a crime that was casual.

It was an attack that was most brutal.

And I know how and why it was executed.

But I would ask you to hold off your questioning

for a short while.

I'm awaiting a concrete piece of evidence,

the final piece of the puzzle.

What kind of evidence?

I cannot say at the moment. I may be wrong.

Doesn't often happen to you.

It has happened twice in my career.

Ah. That's a relief.

To be right all the time might get a little monotonous.

I do not find it so.

Oh, we had a rather curious piece of information

from the Mother Superior of the convent in the next town.

She claims two of her nuns went to Mrs. Gallaccio's cottage

the day before the murder.

They couldn't make anyone hear when they knocked,

but they're convinced someone was inside.

The day before?

They are sure?

Oh, there's no mistaking the day.

It's all entered in the convent book.

Mm. It fits. It fits very well.

Nuns?

That's a ridiculous idea, Poirot.

- No, Inspector. - [ Vehicle approaching ]

My ideas are never ridiculous.

Enfin.

All of the pieces of the puzzle are in place.

[Bell chiming]

M. Shane, I would like to speak with you for a moment.

Mr. Poirot, Michael didn't kill Aunt Cora.

He couldn't have.

But he won't be able to tell you he has an alibi

because on the day after the funeral,

he was with his mistress.

Rosamund, I--

There's no point in lying, Michael.

Would you prefer to be accused of murder?

And you, madame?

On the morning of the murder, you were seen in Camden Town.

[ Exhales sharply]

[Voice breaking] You know?

Oui.

[ Sobs]

Madame?

I wasn't sure, you see.

I'm an actress.

The thought of getting fat and losing my looks...

Someone gave me a name and address, but when I got there...

[ Sobs]

...it was so sordid.

I couldn't go through with it.

I realized I wanted the baby.

A baby?

And the visit to the nuns?

I felt ashamed.

I wanted someone to talk to.

Rosamund...

Merci, madame.

Monsieur.

How long have you known?

A while.

That's why you didn't tell me about the baby?

[ Sobs]

Rosamund, I swear--

It meant nothing.

It's you I love.

I won't see her again.

There's going to have to be big changes, Michael.

Messieurs, dames.

I came here to Enderby

to investigate a murder and to solve a riddle.

First... Richard Abernethie, he dies suddenly, huh?

And then at his funeral, his sister, Cora Gallaccio,

announces that he has been murdered.

But then, the very next day,

she herself is killed most brutally.

Her maid-- Pardon.

Her companion, Mlle. Gilchrist, is poisoned with the arsenic.

Mme. Helen Abernethie is struck on the head

and is rendered unconscious.

The deeds of the house go missing,

and the will that is false... is read.

So now, which, if any, of these events are linked?

Bien s0r, whoever stole the deeds of the house

would have to have been absent from the funeral.

You, M. Timothy-- You have the great need of money

and knew that you would not receive any

from the will of your brother.

So you hatched a plan that on the day of the funeral,

you would break into the offices of M. Entwhistle

and steal the deeds of Enderby.

Oh, that-- that's a preposterous idea!

No, no, no. No, monsieur. Your wife, she covered for you.

Maude, I know you want to get back to Timothy.

I'll whiz through things as quickly as I can.

Please don't rush things on my account, Mr. Entwhistle.

So realizing that you had, as you say,

shot yourself in the foot,

you decided to try to put right your mistake.

That's ridiculous. [Chuckles] I'm an invalid!

Are you, monsieur?

[ Breathing heavily]

POIROT: For certainement, when I talked with you,

you claimed to have had an attack of asthma.

It's a lot of nonsense.

I think he's called your bluff, Timothy.

No, no, monsieur.

You were desperate enough for money to stoop to theft.

The question remains--

Were you desperate enough to stoop to murder?

You, Mlle. Henderson.

You said that you had never been before to Lytchett St. Mary.

But when you spoke to M. Entwhistle

of the whereabouts of your hotel,

it was clear that you knew exactly where it was located.

Yes. It's easy to miss.

But you can see the church--

Inspector Morton is here to question you

as to why you were in Lytchett St. Mary

on the morning that your aunt was murdered

and why you did not inform the police.

The morning after the funeral,

George rang to say he was going down to see Aunt Cora,

to ask about what she'd said at the funeral.

He doesn't have a car. I offered to drive.

And did you see her?

No. We didn't get to Aunt Cora.

[Voice breaking] We went to the hotel.

It wasn't planned.

But I can't forgive myself.

If we'd gone to the cottage,

we might have saved Aunt Cora's life.

And we're cousins!

It's all wrong.

I love him.

So the two of you were in Lytchett St. Mary,

and nobody saw you leave.

So now I turn my attention to motive.

Because it is the psychology of human behavior

which interests me.

Each and every one of you would have killed Cora Gallaccio

to stop her revealing your murder of Richard Abernethie.

But are these two deaths inextricably linked?

Certainement,

Richard Abernethie, he dies most suddenly.

But there would have been no reason to suspect the foul play

had it not been for those words

uttered by his sister, Cora Gallaccio, at the funeral.

But because of those words,

you all believed that murder had taken place.

And so I ask myself a question

that came into my mind, you know, so suddenly.

How well did each of you know Cora Gallaccio?

H-How do you mean?

The answer, mes amis?

Not well at all.

And so I ask myself another question.

Suppose it was not Cora Gallaccio

who attended the funeral that day.

So Aunt Cora wasn't Aunt Cora?

- Somebody else was murdered? - POIROT: No, no, no.

No. Madame, it was Cora Gallaccio who was murdered.

But perhaps it was not Cora Gallaccio

who attended the funeral of Richard Abernethie.

No.

The woman who attended the funeral that day,

she came for one purpose only-- to exploit the fact

that Richard Abernethie had died most suddenly

and to implant into the minds of the relatives

the thought that he had been murdered.

And this she managed to do most successfully.

What nonsense.

I mean, what was the point of it?

Permit me to explain.

If Cora Gallaccio announces that her brother has been murdered

and then she herself is killed the very next day,

then those two deaths are bound to be considered

cause and effect.

And for Hercule Poirot,

the prime suspect would be one of the family.

But... if Cora Gallaccio is killed

and her cottage is broken into

and Hercule Poirot is not convinced by this burglary,

then where is he to look?

Close at home.

At the woman who shared a house with her.

You're not suggesting I'd commit murder

for an amethyst necklace and a few sketches?

Oh, no. No, no. Mademoiselle, no.

For something much more important than that.

One of the sketches of Cora Gallaccio

was of Polflexan Bay.

It was Susannah Henderson

who observed that it must have been copied from a postcard

because it showed that the old pier was still in place.

But, in fact, the old pier had burnt down several years before.

Mme. Gallaccio always painted from the real life.

You told that to us, Mlle. Gilchrist.

And then I remembered the smell of the oil paint

as soon as I arrived at the cottage.

You can paint, can you not?

And you know a great deal about painting

because your father, he was an artist, n'est-ce pas?

And then Richard Abernethie, he dies suddenly,

and the plan, it sprang into your mind.

How easy for you to administer a sedative

in her morning cup of tea

to render her unconscious for the day of the funeral

while you play her part at Enderby.

Oh, and you knew Enderby well

from hearing Cora Gallaccio speak of it.

So simple, then, to begin with a remark to M. Lanscombe,

well, to convince him of your identity.

Dear, dear Lanscombe.

Do you remember when you used to bring meringues

out to the tree house for us?

But that's preposterous.

Nobody would have been fooled for a moment.

But nobody had seen Cora Gallaccio for over 20 years.

You wore her clothes.

You padded yourself out to show her gain in weight.

No one would have suspected that you were not Cora Gallaccio.

And because Cora Gallaccio always wore

the hair that was false, it was easy for you.

But mannerisms are remembered.

And Cora Gallaccio had mannerisms

that were most definite.

All of which you practiced most carefully in front of a mirror.

And that was where you made your first mistake.

You forgot that an image in a mirror, it is always reversed.

So when you observed your reproduction-- oh, parfait--

of the birdlike tilt of the head of Cora Gallaccio,

you forgot it was the wrong way around.

And it was this that puzzled Mme. Helen Abernethie

at the moment that you made your insinuation.

She could not quite put her finger on what it was.

But then with all the talk about mirror images

and how one sees oneself as others see us...

...she remembered.

So she tiptoed downstairs to make a telephone call.

[ Bell chimes, telephone clicks]

But someone else was about.

And they followed her down to listen in.

And, fearful of what revelations she was about to make,

struck her over the head with a--

I never did anything of the sort.

The whole thing is a wicked, wicked lie.

It was you that day.

When we arrived, I vaguely felt I'd seen you before.

But, of course, one never really looks at--

No.

One doesn't bother to look at a mere companion help.

A domestic drudge.

But go on, Mr. Poirot.

Go on with this fantastic piece of nonsense.

Merci, mademoiselle.

I intend to.

And then, to cover yourself still further,

you planted a letter,

from Richard Abernethie to his sister--

of course, in a place

where somebody would be bound to find it.

And in this letter, there was a phrase,

oh, so cryptic,

telling her that he had not long to live.

And then you actually poison yourself with arsenic--

badly but not fatally.

Mademoiselle, you know, that is a device that is also very old.

It aroused my suspicions but immediately.

And what about the picture of Polflexan?

Ah.

I commissioned the valuer of painting Signore Gallaccio

to go to the cottage, remove the painting,

and take it to the London Academy of art.

If you please, signore.

If you please to observe.

Voilà.

A Rembrandt.

MAUDE: [ Gasps ]

Authenticated by two experts.

I recognized it immediately.

She didn't.

Always going on about how much she knew about art

and unable to recognize a Rembrandt

when it was under her nose.

She was a thoroughly stupid woman.

Endlessly wittering on about this place

and what you all did as children.

You don't know how truly stultifying it is

to listen to someone talking about the same things

day after day and pretending to be interested.

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Gallaccio," and, "Really, Mrs. Gallaccio?"

And in truth just bored, bored, bored.

And nothing to look forward to but more of the same.

And then...

...a Rembrandt.

A Rembrandt had sold in London a few weeks before

for £5,000.

You killed her in that brutal way for £5,000?

No, no, no.No.

Mademoiselle, you mistake.

£5,000 would have bought and equipped a tea shop.

You understand.

It was the only chance I'd ever get.

I had to have a capital sum.

A chance to re-create The Willow Tree.

My own little place.

Freedom.

Independence.

A servant to no one.

[ Door opens]

Perhaps you'd like to come along with me, Miss Gilchrist.

Of course. I don't want to be any trouble.

If I can't have my little tea shop,

nothing much else matters.

[As Cora ] How very silly of me.

I-I always do the wrong thing.

Oh, please forgive me.

It was really very stupid.

I'm sorry.

I-I'm so sorry.

But, uh...

Extraordinary.

How did you work it out?

What made you suspect her?

It-- It was the flowers of wax.

Mademoiselle, you remember when you and your sister

were arguing on the evening that everyone arrived here?

Mlle. Gilchrist remarked how artistic

the flowers of wax looked on the table made of malachite.

Well...

Well, she could not have seen them there because...

Mme. Helen Abernethie had removed them before she arrived.

So the only time she could have seen them was when she was here,

masquerading as Cora Gallaccio.

How clever of you.

Will she hang?

POIROT: I cannot tell, mademoiselle.

It may be that she will be admitted to an institution.

It is for the courts to decide.

[Engine idling]

I feel I should go.

Give it a try at least.

I think it's probably for the best.

MAN: Goodbye, sir.

How long will you stay away for?

Um...

I don't know.

Goodbye, Gilbert.

- I'll see you soon. - Yes.

Merci, madame.

And thank you for your hospitality.

Thank you, Mr. Poirot, for everything.

Madame.

MAN: Good morning, sir.

Merci.

Ah. Goodbye, my dear.

Don't stay away too long.

SUSANNAH: Goodbye, Helen.

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