Original subtitles

I'm not sure we should expect to see each other again.

I couldn't bear that.

I have to see you again.

Please.

God, you're so beautiful.

Ahmed.

I'm married.

No! No! No!

All right, everybody. Cut.

Cut.

Will someone please tell me

what these actors are meant to be doing?

I'm wrong! I must be wrong!

I thought this was a love scene!

My dear Valerie,

you are not discussing the weather with this man.

You are about to commit adultery with him!

Make a big pause before you say, "I'm married."

"Ahmed." Count to five.

You turn, then say your line.

Okay? Let's see it.

Ahmed.

-I'm married. -No, darling.

Can you count to five?

I did.

Count to 10, then.

This is no hide-and-seek counting, my dear.

One... two... three... four... five...

six... seven... eight... nine... ten!

You got it?!

Good morning.

Captain Hastings and M. Poirot, guests of Bunny Saunders.

Ah, yes.

Very young, of course, to be directing his first picture.

But what a break, getting Valerie Saintclair to star.

Yes. Films are very boring, Hastings.

But the actors who are paid to deceive us,

now, they are interesting, huh?

Quiet on the set!

Red-line bell.

Roll camera.

-218, take 11.

Action.

What was that Ahmed doing here?

He's come to see to the horses.

Oh, that's his excuse, is it?

Is that not Ralph Walton?

He was a big star before the talkies.

-Shh. -...with the horses.

Spends too much --

Spends too much time hanging around --

hanging around here, if you ask me.

Oh, Bernard, he doesn't!

I'm sorry, dear boy. I'm dry.

-The old brain buzz is gone. -Cut. Cut.

All right, everyone, let's take a short break.

Going. Going.

I don't want to hear anything more.

-Mr. Reedburn -- -And now, you understand?

Bunny.

Arthur, old love, glad you could make it.

Wonderful to see you.

May I introduce my good friend M. Hercule Poirot?

Enchant�, monsieur.

Miss Deloy, I want to see Miss Saintclair

in my office immediately.

Yes, Mr. Reedburn.

Poirot, I must apologize for Reedburn.

He's the head of the studio.

No matter.

He is obviously a busy man.

Yes. He's just instructed me to sack Ralph Walton.

Good God.

The truth is, old Ralph is past his best.

But get him on a good day,

and you won't find a better actor anywhere.

I suppose I've got to do it.

Reedburn really hates him.

Please forgive me for just one...

What a terrible thing.

Ah, M. Poirot.

Good morning, Your Highness.

Oh, Paul, please, after all you did for my family.

Oh, not at all.

And what brings you to Parade Studios?

Sheer good fortune, eh.

My associate, Captain Hastings...

How do you do?

...and your director are very old friends.

Oh, excellent. Well, welcome.

Thank you.

You treat me like a child!

I'm the biggest box-office draw this studio has.

True.

But without the studio, you would be nothing.

Without me, you wouldn't even be in pictures.

Perhaps I would have been better off.

Perhaps, but I doubt it.

You're too ambitious for that.

You know, you are even more beautiful when you're angry.

Have you thought any more about my little proposition, my dear?

Hmm?

You swine!

Mr. Walton, please. This is highly irregular.

What's the matter, my dear Ralph?

You're the matter, you skunk!

What?

You haven't even got the guts to sack me to my face!

Oh, my good God!

Well, well, well.

Hmm.

You seem to have lost your manners, as well as your talent.

For shame.

You used to be such civilized company.

To get level with a snake, you have to crawl on the ground.

See that Mr. Walton is escorted off the premises at once.

You haven't heard the last of me, Reedburn.

Are you all right, Henry?

'Course I'm all right.

And don't call me Henry.

Go.

Mm.

Paul.

He's an animal.

There, there.

It's all right, my darling.

I tell you, I have a good mind

to withdraw my backing from this picture.

As long as you're with me, I can bear it.

Just promise me that you won't see Reedburn on your own again.

Yes.

Yes, I promise.

Action.

It's a bad wound.

You're lucky it's in your arm.

And my people struggle.

One life counts for nothing.

I'll do my best.

But you ought to see my husband.

I feel that I shall be safe in your hands.

Cut! Super.

What is missing, Bunny, is sex appeal!

Ugh!

The demure doctor's wife is drawn irresistibly

towards this handsome young fellow!

She knows she will be unfaithful.

It's the way of women. They cannot help themselves.

They are putty in the hands of the wild demon

that lurks in all of them.

Why can't I have another drink, eh?!

Why can't I have another drink?

Just because bloody Reedburn owns the studio or something?

What if he does?

He doesn't own me!

And I can have a drink if I like.

I'll show him.

Mr. Reedburn's house just coming up, miss.

Stop just here.

Three bob, love, please.

Thank you.

No, Inspector, something really terrible has happened.

Please send some men at once.

Thank you.

Hello?

Is that Hercule Poirot?

-Yes. -It's Paul of Maurania.

Oh. Your Highness.

Please, Poirot -- Paul.

Pardon. Paul.

The most awful thing's happened, Poirot.

I desperately need your help.

Yes.

Valerie is in trouble. Serious trouble.

Mon Dieu. Is she with you?

No, she's just telephoned.

I'll do anything I can to help.

You see, Poirot, Valerie and I are engaged to be married.

I had no idea.

No, no. No, it's not generally known.

My family would never approve

if there was the slightest hint of scandal.

Where is Mlle. Saintclair now?

She's at a house near Reedburn's.

It's called The Willows.

How did she come there?

She just ran to the nearest house.

Is she implicated in a criminal matter?

I fear so.

Whatever your family might think, my friend,

you must call the police.

That's already happened.

-They have been called? -Yes.

Excellent.

Be straightforward with them, and they will be discreet.

I was against it at first,

but the people at The Willows, the Oglanders, insisted.

Yes.

But I'm worried about the publicity.

I will do everything in my power to protect your reputation.

But I must know exactly what happened.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

All right.

Police. Chief Inspector Japp.

We've had a report of a disturbance here.

Disturbance?

In the library.

And you are?

Frampton, Mr. Reedburn's manservant, sir.

Where is it, then?

The library? It's over here, sir.

One moment, sir.

Holy mother of God!

Don't touch, sir, if you don't mind.

Well, it all happened

so quickly, Chief Inspector.

The four of us were playing bridge

when suddenly there was this commotion at the window.

We were astonished to see a young lady beating at the panes.

Absolutely terrified, she looked.

Did you happen to notice what time this was, Mrs. Oglander?

It must have been around 10:00.

Yes, I remember the clock in the hall

chiming the hour a little before.

Please go on, madam.

Well, Ronnie got up to let her in.

She was very out of breath.

It seems she'd run across the gardens from Mon D�sire.

Did she say anything?

Yes.

"Murder.

He's been murdered."

"Murder. He's been murdered."

You're sure of it?

I shall not forget those words

for as long as I live, Chief Inspector.

Then she fainted, poor girl.

And, of course, we immediately telephoned the police.

Hmm.

Did any of you recognize her?

I thought there was something vaguely familiar about her,

but it was Geraldine who guessed that it was Valerie Saintclair.

She's a tremendous fan of hers.

Aren't you, darling?

Now, remember, mon ami, it is important

that we keep a discreet silence about our connection

with Prince Paul and Mlle. Saintclair.

Oh, yes. Right.

The police took away the body early this morning, sir.

Otherwise, the room is untouched.

And the curtains were drawn last night?

Yes, sir, I draw all the curtains every evening.

So, who has drawn back this one?

I couldn't say, sir. Possibly Mr. Reedburn did.

What is this house?

That's The Willows, sir,

neighbors of Mr. Reedburn, name of Oglander, I believe.

Ah, yes.

The Oglanders.

Excuse me, please.

Thank you.

And this window overlooks the drive, no?

That's right, sir.

Tell me,

was M. Reedburn expecting any visitors late last night?

He didn't say so, sir.

But after Mr. Saunders had left --

-Bunny Saunders? -That's right, sir.

He and Mr. Reedburn were viewing rushes

in the projection theater.

Mr. Saunders left at about 9:30, I think it was.

And later?

Well, sir, Mr. Reedburn gave instructions

he was not to be disturbed -- in the library, that is.

And you saw nobody arrive?

No, sir, but, of course, they may have come in

by the side door without my knowing.

May I?

Thank you.

Was M. Reedburn in the habit

of admitting visitors late at night by this door?

I believe so, sir.

And you heard nothing from the library

after M. Reedburn had retired there?

Well, I can't be sure,

but I thought I heard a woman's voice.

-A woman's voice? -Yes, sir.

I may have imagined it, of course,

because that's what I would have expected to hear,

if you see what I mean, sir.

Quite so.

We're looking for a blunt instrument, quite wide,

not like a poker, but heavy.

You start upstairs.

Dear, oh, dear.

Here we go again.

My dear Chief Inspector Japp.

You have cracked this case already, perhaps, no?

It won't be long, Poirot.

Have you ever heard of a Valerie Saintclair?

Saintclair.

The film star.

I've just been talking to her, as a matter of fact.

Very intelligent girl.

It was her discovered the body.

-Film star. -Oh, yes.

She was frightened, of course,

so she ran off to that house over there, The Willows.

Hmm.

But what was she doing here, Inspector?

I understand it was very late.

Business.

Mr. Reedburn was a film producer.

They don't keep office hours, you know, Poirot.

Valerie -- uh, Miss Saintclair, that is -- spotted an intruder,

which makes my life a lot easier.

There's a lot of Gypsies around here, apparently.

Mr. Reedburn wasn't exactly a favorite of theirs.

He tried to have them moved on several times.

What was the cause of death, would you say?

A blow to the back of the head.

There was also bruising between the eyes,

but the fatal injury was to the head.

You can still see the blood.

So, he was lying on his back?

Correct.

Perhaps he fell back against this.

Well, there would be blood traces on that arm.

Unless they were washed away.

Why would anyone want to make an accident look like murder?

True enough. True enough.

But one thing still puzzles me.

Why does Mlle. Saintclair run to The Willows

instead of the house at the front, which is much nearer?

Oh, that's simple.

As the body was here and this curtain was drawn back,

the lights from that house would be the first you'd see at night.

But of course.

You are several steps ahead of me, my dear Chief Inspector.

You mustn't get discouraged, Poirot.

When you've been around as long as I have,

you develop a nose for this sort of thing.

Hmm.

Mon coeur.

Poor Valerie Saintclair had to come this way in the dark.

Do you reckon Japp's onto something?

This Gypsy business, I mean.

A man like Reedburn had enemies, huh?

Too many.

Ah.

Would you mind waiting in here for a moment, sirs?

Merci.

Ah.

La famille, Hastings.

No bond is so strong.

Yes.

Good morning, gentlemen.

Bonjour, mademoiselle.

You're from the police?

No, no, no, no, not at all.

Pardon.

Voil�.

We are acting in a private capacity

for a dear friend of Mlle. Saintclair.

I see.

How can I help you?

You must excuse the room, by the way.

The police have instructed us

to leave things exactly as they were.

No, no. Of course. I understand.

You were playing bridge last night.

Yes.

And you yourself were sitting...

There, facing the window.

Ah.

I was partnering my mother

and had just bid one no trump when it happened,

when Miss Saintclair appeared at the window, I mean.

You had been playing for long?

Perhaps an hour or so.

We'd played several rubbers.

Mlle. Saintclair is still here, is she not?

Yes.

Thank you.

Come in.

M. Poirot, Captain Hastings. Thank you for coming.

Mademoiselle.

Please.

Merci.

I saw you on the set yesterday.

Ah.

Paul insisted on calling you last night.

Perhaps you could tell us what happened.

It was dreadful.

Utterly dreadful.

You might as well know Reedburn was blackmailing me.

I can't tell you why, so please don't ask me,

but for Paul's sake, for both our sakes,

I tried to come to terms with him.

Dear God, I can't say I'm sorry he's dead.

But believe me, I didn't kill him.

I swear it.

Just tell me what happened, my dear lady.

I agreed to meet him last night.

I was desperate, you understand.

Well, last week, he forced me

to sign another three-year contract with the studio.

But he wanted still more.

More?

He said he was in love with me.

I don't need to tell you what he was after.

I could see no way out.

He asked me to meet him last night in the library

at a quarter to 10:00.

Courage, mademoiselle.

When I entered, it appeared to be empty.

Then I saw it... by the window -- the body on the floor.

To my horror, I realized it was Reedburn.

I could tell at once he was dead.

I was about to call out when something made me look 'round.

A curtain twitched on the other side of the room,

and my heart stopped.

At the foot of the curtain,

I could clearly see a pair of feet.

Someone was there.

My God, all I could think of was getting away, M. Poirot.

I-I saw the lights of this house in the darkness,

and I just kept on running u-until I got here.

It must have been a great shock, mademoiselle.

But tell me, the window where you found the body,

it was at the back of the library,

overlooking the garden, yes?

Yes.

How was the curtain on this window?

Shut?

No. It was drawn back.

And on the other windows?

I-I think all the other curtains were closed.

And this pair of feet,

it was a man or a woman, would you say?

Oh, a man, I'm sure.

Hmm?

Well, they were boots rather than shoes.

Like hobnail boots, only very worn and dirty.

I see.

Begging your pardon, sir.

Mrs. Oglander would like a word with you,

if you wouldn't mind waiting for a while in the drawing room.

No, no, no. By all means.

Well, Mlle. Oglander should have bid three spades,

not one no trump.

Dieu.

There are only 51 cards here.

There is one card missing.

Mon Dieu. But of course.

Hastings, this explains everything.

There is no king of clubs.

Thank you very much for waiting, gentlemen.

Madame.

I wonder if I might ask a small favor of you, Mr. Poirot.

I am at your service, madame.

Well, you see, my husband is not a well man,

and I'm terrified that if the newspapers

get hold of the fact that Miss Saintclair is staying here,

we shall have no peace.

Can I therefore rely on your discretion, Mr. Poirot?

I have not seen or heard of Mlle. Saintclair.

You may rest assured, madame.

Thank you so much. I'm so grateful.

May I please ask you something, madame?

Which of you first noticed Mlle. Saintclair at the window?

Well, it's difficult to say, really.

The commotion distracted us all.

But you could see her clearly from your seat.

Oh, yes, indeed. I was facing the window.

I was probably engrossed in the game.

I'm afraid I'm a bit of a dunce when it comes to bridge.

You're onto something, Poirot.

I'm dashed if I know what.

Patience, my friend.

All right, get him in line.

All right, all right, none of your half looks.

Just get them off.

This is a serious inquiry.

Get their names on the labels,

then give your boots to the constable.

What?

You'll get them back. Don't worry.

They're going to be looked at by a film star.

God help her.

You know, Poirot, there's a bit more to this modern art

than you might think.

It isn't just that they don't know what they're doing,

even if it might look like it.

This is most unpleasant, Hastings.

A pal of mine was telling me that what they're trying to do

is to show all the sides at the same time

to save us the trouble of walking 'round the back.

It's quite a clever idea, in a way.

I mean, take this fellow, for instance.

I mean, that bit might be his front and his back, as well,

if you get my meaning.

It's all quite scientific, really.

The trouble is, most of the time,

they're half mad with booze and drugs,

so what they see isn't all that reliable.

It's the artistic temperament. That's the problem.

What have you got there?

Oh, Bunny. What are you doing here?

Looking for you and M. Poirot, actually.

Prince Paul said you'd be here.

What's up?

Well, look, it may be nothing important.

When I was driving back from here last night,

I nearly ran straight into Ralphie Walton

coming the other way.

Swerving around like some mad dervish, he was.

So you think he was coming here to see M. Reedburn,

intent on revenge?

I don't know.

He certainly didn't look like a man paying a social visit.

He doesn't wear hobnail boots, does he?

Walton, I mean.

Beg pardon, sir.

But there's a telephone call for Mr. Saunders.

-For me? -Yes, sir.

Who on earth could be calling me here?

Excuse me.

So, did Ralph Walton kill Reedburn?

Ah.

That is the big question, mon ami.

What about the missing bridge card?

It is in my pocket.

I don't understand.

Well, there is no great mystery.

The missing card was in the box all the time.

It had simply not been taken out with the others.

C'est tout.

Well, that was Prince Paul to say that Ralph Walton

has been taken to the local cottage hospital.

Crashed his car near here in the early hours of the morning.

Good heavens. Is he all right?

A broken collarbone and a hangover.

But he's comfortable, apparently.

Look, I think I'll trot over to see the old boy now, all right?

Hastings, why don't you accompany M. Saunders, eh?

I must return to The Willows, and I --

Well, I think it best if I go alone.

Oh. All right. If you think so.

Besides, you can question M. Ralph Walton

about last night, perhaps.

Right.

Hop in, then, Arthur.

Right.

Oh, this is nice.

I saw Freddie Dixon driving one down at the track.

Thought that I'd get one myself.

Twin SU carb, isn't it?

Yeah, it's a bit thirsty but quick.

Morning, sir.

Mr. Poirot.

I must apologize for this unexpected return, madame.

I was anxious to fully set your mind at rest.

You have a second daughter, madame?

Had.

She died, I'm afraid.

I am sorry to hear you say that.

Hmm.

In my country, we Belgians have great respect

for la m�re de famille, the mother.

She is all-important.

Do not worry.

I think it unlikely

that the police will ever learn the truth.

You will permit me, madame,

to return the missing card to the pack.

To play bridge for over one hour with only 51 cards,

that is not very believable, madame.

You make one other small mistake.

You tell me that you're sitting here facing the window

when Mlle. Saintclair appeared,

but your daughter tells me she also is sitting here,

so perhaps you are both sitting in the same chair, no?

Nothing has escaped you, it seems, Mr. Poirot.

You are feeling better, mademoiselle?

Yes. Much better, thank you.

Mademoiselle?

I found these in the house of M. Reedburn.

What have they to do with me?

You are a good actress and a loyal daughter, Mlle. Oglander.

This is your father, M. Oglander, no?

And this man, M. Hawtrey, he is also your father.

You can't be serious.

Mr. Poirot knows everything, dear.

Believe me, my dear lady, I make no judgment in this matter.

M. Hawtrey tries to save his business

with a little false accounting.

Well, fathers have done worse for the sake of their children.

But M. Hawtrey is caught,

and in his shame, he changes his name to Oglander.

When your family come to live here,

Mr. Reedburn discovers these facts

and tries to blackmail you.

Is that not so?

I lived in dread, M. Poirot,

that he would divulge everything.

Paul could never marry me then.

I think it is best if you keep this, mademoiselle.

And have no fear.

My lips are sealed.

I say, Val, what are you doing up?

Should be careful -- We just saw that little French chap

snooping his way back up here.

Vive la famille.

Au revoir, madame.

Like a lift back to town, Poirot?

Ah, well, that is most kind of you, Inspector,

but I have to meet Captain Hastings back at Mon D�sire.

Ah, yes.

By the by, how'd you get on at The Willows?

Ah, they were nothing of any interest, I have to admit.

What about your Gypsies?

Drawn a blank so far.

Difficult blighters to deal with.

But we'll find him sooner or later.

Don't you worry.

I admire your persistence, my friend.

Little gray cells are all very nice, Poirot,

but it's dogged as does it.

Yes, well, thank you very much, Inspector.

I will try and remember that. Au revoir.

Ah, Poirot.

How is M. Walton?

Seemed pretty cheerful, all things considered.

Claims he intended to give Reedburn a good hiding,

but by the time he got his courage up,

he was in no fit state.

No, no, it does not matter, Hastings.

The case is closed.

You mean you've caught the murderer?

There is no murderer.

What?

There is no murderer because there is no murder.

But Reedburn's body was found in that window

with a hole in the back of his head.

Wrong window, Hastings.

This was where the body lay first.

Regard, mon ami.

You see this bloodstain?

Uh-huh?

Now, remember, Chief Inspector Japp said

that there was bruising on the face of M. Reedburn, huh?

The reason?

Because someone punches him between the eyes.

M. Reedburn falls backwards,

hits his head against this arm, and slips to the floor.

That is an accident. It is not murder.

But if he fell here, why did he end up over there?

Well, it is not impossible, you know,

to drag the body across the floor.

But why take it over there?

Because it was essential for their plan.

Their plan?

Yes.

Valerie Saintclair and Ronnie Oglander.

Well, the father is too ill, so it had to be the son.

You see, mon ami,

Mlle. Saintclair visited M. Reedburn last night,

accompanied by Ronnie.

There was a quarrel, no doubt,

and the young M. Oglander punched M. Reedburn in the face.

He fell backwards and hit his head.

Voil�.

But how do you know all this?

Because of that window.

Now, remember, this was the only window

with its curtains drawn back, yes?

Why?

To give a view of The Willows, the Oglanders' house.

In order to make it appear

that Valerie Saintclair went to The Willows by chance,

it was necessary for the body to be found over there.

I see.

But --

You have another question, mon ami, no?

Well, yes.

I mean, what's the connection?

Between Valerie Saintclair and the Oglanders?

Ah.

What was that Ahmed doing here?

He's come to see to the horses.

Oh. That's his excuse, is it?

He spends too much time hanging around here, if you ask me.

Oh, Bernard, he doesn't!

I'm still your husband, Vivienne.

Just don't ever forget that.

Cut.

Excellent. Bunny, excellent.

-Very good, Ralphie. -Thanks.

Oh, darling.

Right, well, we'll print that one.

Now, then, onwards and upwards.

We'll move on to scene 64 as long as that one's clear.

M. Poirot, have the police made an arrest?

It seems not.

And from what I hear, the trail has gone cold.

Well, the very idea that Val could have been involved

was always preposterous.

Open up the doors and get some air in here.

-But I thought -- -No, no, no, no, Hastings.

Look, it seems to me --

My friend, you are barking up the wrong bush.

The case of M. Reedburn will remain, I fear,

one of the great body of unsolved cases.