All language subtitles for Agatha.Christies.Poirot.S05E07

- Ladies and gentlemen,

lot 22:

an Edgar Brandt
wrought-iron wall mirror

and console table.

I shall open the bidding
at �30.

Do I see �30?

�30.

- Is this what you came for,
Poirot?

- Yes, it is, Hastings.

I thought for the vestibule,
you know, by the door.

- �40.

- How high will you go?

- �90.

- �50.
- It will be enough.

- Thank you.

- �60.

And �70.

- Here.

- �80.
Thank you, madam.

�90.

At �90, then.

At �90.

Any more?

- �100.

- It's with you, sir.

- �120.

- Sir?

At �120, then.

Any more?

Sold to Mr. Chevenix.

- Well, that was a bit
of bad luck, Poirot.

I thought you had it there.

- So, Hastings, did I.

- Mr. Poirot.

You are Hercule Poirot,
are you not,

the detective?

- Yes.

- No hard feelings, I hope?

- Non.

- Good. My card.

Tell me, what do you know
about modern art, Mr. Poirot?

I'm a collector.

Also I deal in paintings
and sculptures.

That's my business.

And I have to tell you,

I'm not a man
who's easily fooled.

- That is self-evident,
monsieur.

- So it may surprise you
to learn

that I believe
I'm being defrauded.

I want you
to look into it.

- The services of Hercule Poirot
are not inexpensive.

- Maybe I'll give you
the mirror.

What do you say?

I've got a place,
Hamborough Close,

near Whimperley.

How about tomorrow?

- That is out of the question.

- The day after, then.

Let me know.

- Well, that was a bit
of a cheek, wasn't it?

- Yes, indeed, Hastings.

This Gervase Chevenix,

it does not occur to him

that Poirot is also
a man of importance,

a man of affairs?

And yet he summons me like
a mere nobody, an obedient dog.

- Oh, I take it you'll refuse.

- To refuse, yes,
it is my first instinct.

But, you know, Hastings,

a man with so much arrogance
as this...

Even he may be vulnerable
in ways he cannot see.

- And he did offer you
that mirror.

- That too.

- I'll get the tickets
tomorrow.

- And do you take this man

to be
your lawfully wedded husband?

- I do.

- Well, there we are, then.

Now, let me see.

Do you have a ring?

- Yes.

- That's right.

John Lake, Ruth Chevenix,

I am pleased to declare you
man and wife.

- I wish it didn't have
to be like this.

- I do love you.

- Merci.

- Mr. Poirot?
- Oui?

- My name's Susan Cardwell.

Do you mind if I join you?

- Not at all, mademoiselle.

Asseyez-vous,
s'il vous pla�t.

This is my associate,
Captain Hastings.

How do you do?

- May I offer you
a cup of coffee?

- Oh, I won't, thank you.

My fianc�, Hugo,
told me to look out for you.

Actually, he's not my fianc�,

not officially, anyway.

- Hugo?

- Oh, Hugo Trent,

Gervase's nephew.

He's meeting you at the station,

so he suggested
I come on the same train.

- Are you staying
with Monsieur Chevenix?

- Unfortunately, yes.

Well, I've only met him once,

and he was
absolutely horrible to me.

- He doesn't approve of you?

- It's not that.
It's just--

Well, it's--
it's Hugo and me.

You see, Gervase
has always had his heart set

on Hugo marrying
his daughter, Ruth.

- But he's not inclined
to do that.

- No.

But you see,
Ruth was adopted.

I suppose Gervase thinks
marrying her to his nephew

will--will make her
more completely his.

- But he can't force them
to marry, can he?

- He can try.

He will try.

I think he enjoys it--

manipulating other people.

I really hate him, you know.

I do.

And I'm not going to let him
spoil my life.

Here's Hugo.

- Susan.

Darling.
- Mwah.

- You must be Mr. Poirot.

- Monsieur.

- And...
- Arthur Hastings.

- Hugo Trent.

Look, I'm supposed to be
driving you to Hamborough Close.

But I've got to stop off
at my studio.

Do you mind terribly?

- Not at all.
- It's on the way.

- Bon.

- And these are my designs,

all of them.

What we're doing here
is revolutionary, Mr. Poirot.

What do you think?

- I think
it is most remarkable.

- Is it all metal?

- Tubular steel.

You see, who needs wood,
Captain Hastings?

Wood expands. It perishes.
It dries out.

But metal, metal is perfect.

You see, triangulated joinery.

There's no fuss.

- Oh, yes, I see.

- Hugo.
- Give me a minute, Lawrence.

Look at this.

Sit down.

What do you think?

- I think...

that it is perfectly conceived.

- This is the future,
Mr. Poirot.

And I could sell thousands,
if only--

- Uncle Gervase.

- He does not support
this enterprise?

- Just getting this far
has been a struggle.

Now the banks are closing in,

and I may have to sell
my designs

just to pay them off.

- Hugo.

They telephoned
while you were out.

They won't give you
any more time.

- I'll have to speak to them.

Excuse me, Mr. Poirot.

Lawrence will have
to drive you.

Damn it to hell.

- Mm.
Quite a place.

- Good afternoon, gentlemen.

Mr. Chevenix
is waiting for you.

- Merci.

- Enter!

- Monsieur Poirot, sir.

- Oh, Mr. Poirot.

Good of you to come.

You've brought your secretary.

- This is my associate,
Captain Hastings.

- Oh, yes.

I saw him at the auction.

Well, what do you think?

Hung it this morning.

Looks good, doesn't it?

- Yes, indeed.

- Shall I come back later,
Mr. Chevenix?

- Yes.

You can sort out
that stuff on Matisse.

This is Miss Lingard,
my research assistant.

- How do you do?

- Mademoiselle Lingard.

- We're working
on a study of fauvism

for the British Museum
of Modern Art.

Oh, Miss Lingard,

is that architect here?

- I believe so,
Mr. Chevenix.

- Have him come in,
will you?

�10,000, Mr. Poirot--

not a drop in the ocean.

That's how much I've paid him,
John Lake.

- And this is the fraud
you wish me to investigate?

- Yes.

- For what purpose
did you give him the money?

- A big development
in London:

shops, offices, apartments.

He's building it,
and he's gotten me to invest.

So far, he hasn't even
laid a brick.

And I'm beginning to wonder
if he ever will.

- You wanted to see me,
Gervase?

- Come in, Lake.

There's someone
I want you to meet.

This is Hercule Poirot.

- The detective.

- Yes.

Why don't you take Mr. Poirot
into the garden

and get him some tea?

I'll see you at dinner.

We'll eat in the hall,
quarter past 8:00.

Do try not to be late.

Snell rings the first gong
at eight minutes past the hour

and the second at 8:15.

I'll see you then.

- Gentlemen.

I--I don't suppose--

You're not here on business,
Mr. Poirot.

- That is precisely
why I am here, Monsieur Lake.

- Oh.

That's typical of Gervase.

He likes to spring
his surprises.

Let me introduce you.

This is Mrs. Vanda Chevenix.

Hercule Poirot,
Captain Hastings.

- Madame.
- How do you do?

- And her daughter,
Miss Chevenix.

- Ruth.

- Mademoiselle.
- Hello.

- Hello.

- Apparently, Mr. Poirot is
doing some work for your father.

- For Gervase?

Really?

- Oui.

- It is about the death.

- What death,
Madame Chevenix?

- Safra warned me
there would be a death.

She told me
not to be afraid.

- Who's Safra?

- She was a servant
of Amenhotep.

She is my spiritual guide.

- Oh, come on, Vanda.

I'm sure Mr. Poirot doesn't want
to hear about all that.

- Au contraire, mademoiselle.

Poirot interests himself always
in matters of the occult.

You permit?

Merci.

It is very old.

- It is 3,000 years old.

It was hers.

- This belonged to Safra?

- She is never wrong.

- I...

I think I'd better be going.

- I'll walk round with you.

Excuse me.

- Right.

- Tea?

- Evening, Hugo.

- Where are you going, Ruth?

- I dropped my brooch somewhere.

Outside, I think.

- Oh.

- Have you spoken to Gervase?

- Yes.

He's impossible.

- Entrez.

- Oh, you're not ready yet.

- Well, we have plenty of time,
mon ami.

- Are you sure?

I could have sworn
I heard the first gong.

- Non.
Let me see.

Non, it is
six minutes past 8:00 only.

- What was that?
- I do not know.

- It was a gunshot.

- Good evening, Miss Ruth.

- Oh, good evening,
Miss Lingard.

Is something the matter?

- I'm not late, am I?

- Did you hear it, Susan?
- What?

- I thought I heard a shot.

- Just now?

I thought it was
a car backfiring.

- Ruth.

- What's going on?

- We thought we heard
a gun going off.

- Oh, yes, I thought
I heard something.

- It came from upstairs.

- No, it was a car.

It came from over there.

- I heard it too.

- Snell?

- Yes, ma'am.

- It is 8:15.

Time for the second gong.

- Yes, ma'am.

- But where
is Monsieur Chevenix?

- He is never late.

- He was working in the study,
ma'am.

- This door must be broken open
immediately.

- Here, let me.

- Poirot.

- I told you,
Safra is never wrong.

- Evening, Poirot.

- Chief Inspector Japp.

- Right, where's the body?

- This way, Chief Inspector.

Chief Inspector.

- Suicide.

- So it would appear.

- I'd say it was obvious.

The bullet must have gone
straight through his head

and hit the mirror.

- So it would appear.

- He left a note.

"Sorry."

I suppose that says it all.

- Hmm.

Look at this,
Chief Inspector.

- What is it?

- It is a small fragment
of the looking glass.

- Well, there must be splinters
all over the place.

Who found the body?

- We did.

We heard a shot
at about ten past 8:00,

and then we broke in the door.

- Let me see.

Ah.

Just as I thought.

He locked himself in.

That more or less wraps it up.

- You believe so?

- Well, we've got a dead man.

You heard a shot,
he's alone in the room,

the gun's in his hand,
and the door was locked.

- Well, what about the windows?

- Fastened.

- And this one.

- This one too.

Right.

Well, I'd better go
and have a word

with Mrs. Chevenix,

not that there's much to say.

You know, it does look
like suicide, Poirot.

- Oui, c'est possible,
mon ami.

And yet...

there are many things
I wish to know.

For example,

why was the mirror broken?

And why was there mud
on the shoes

belonging
to Mademoiselle Ruth Chevenix?

Voil�.

- Footprints.

- Yes, Hastings, they are
the footprints of a lady

and directly outside the study
of Monsieur Chevenix.

- But the French window
was locked from the inside.

- But this window, Hastings,

it can be locked
from the outside.

Regarde.

By raising the metal catch so

and then, with a push...

- Good Lord.

- You know, Chief Inspector,

life is one
of the great illusions.

- I'm afraid I don't quite agree
with that, Mrs. Chevenix.

- Gervase knew that.

He and I, you see,

we met on the same plane.

- On holiday?

- The spiritual plane.

He was one of the great ones.

He, too, found it hard
to conform

to the silly standards
of the everyday world.

And he believed me

about the death.

- You'd been told
about his death?

- Oh, yes.

Safra told me.

She knew.

- Did she, indeed?

Mrs. Chevenix,
can you tell me

where I might be able
to get hold of this Safra?

- She used to live in Egypt.

- But she moved?

- No.

- Perfectly conceived.

- Oh, hello, Mr. Poirot.

- Oh, Mr. Poirot.

- Monsieur Trent...

Did you see your uncle
earlier this evening?

- Yes.

It must have been about 7:00.

He was dressed for dinner.

I--I went to see him

to ask him to help me
with my business.

But he wouldn't listen.

- He wanted Hugo
to marry Ruth.

- No marriage to Ruth,
no money for me.

That's what it boiled down to.

- So, Monsieur Trent,

you had no reason, therefore,
to celebrate.

- None at all.

- It was not you, then,

that opened this bottle
of champagne?

- No.

- Curious.

The bottle of champagne,
it is opened,

and yet the contents
are not consumed.

- Ah, there you are, Poirot.

You got any idea where I can
get hold of this Safra,

some sort of friend
of Mrs. Chevenix?

- Safra's dead.

She's Vanda's spirit guide.

- Ah.

I might as well be off, then.

- You believe there is nothing
to investigate?

- Gervase Chevenix
shot himself.

I'm sure of it.

- In that event,
Chief Inspector, d'accord.

We will return at once
to London.

There are, perhaps,
two questions

that you might be able
to answer for me.

- Oh, yes.

- First question:

was Monsieur Chevenix
right-handed or left-handed?

- What's the other question?

- It is more simple.

If Monsieur Chevenix
shot himself,

what has happened
to the bullet?

- Oh, hello, Miss Chevenix.

- Could I see Mr. Poirot,
please?

- Yes.
Follow me down this way.

Miss Chevenix is here.

- Ah, mademoiselle.

- Mr. Poirot,
I need to see you.

- Please to sit down,
mademoiselle.

- Is it true
that Gervase hired you

to investigate John Lake?

- Oui, mademoiselle.

Monsieur Chevenix believed

that he was the object
of a fraud.

- Well, I've come to tell you
that the case is over.

I don't know
what he offered to pay you,

but I hope
that will cover it.

- Mademoiselle,

the company
of Monsieur John Lake,

what is it called?

- It's Northgate Development.

But I'm telling you, Mr. Poirot,
there is nothing to investigate.

- May I ask, mademoiselle...

Were you close
to your guardian?

I was grateful to Gervase.

And he wasn't just my guardian.

He was actually my uncle.

- But he adopted you.

- I was what is quaintly called
a love child.

My father
was Gervase's younger brother.

He was killed in the war.

And my mother was a typist.

- Ah.

And where is she now?

- I don't know.

When my father died,
she wrote to Gervase.

He couldn't have
any children of his own,

so he adopted me.

- I see.

Please to sit down,
mademoiselle.

Tell me, mademoiselle,

on the night of the death
of Monsieur Chevenix,

where were you at 8:00?

- I was in the house.

- But you went out, I think.
- Did I?

- Oh, yes, there was mud
on your shoes.

I remarked on the fact.

- You don't miss a thing,
do you?

Well, yes.

I went out twice.

At about 6:00, I went to pick
some daisies just by the study.

- And later?

It must have been
just after 8:00,

I realized
I'd dropped my brooch,

and I went back to get it.

- It is as simple as that.

- If you don't believe me,
you can ask Miss Lingard.

- Mademoiselle Lingard?

- She was in the lounge
when I came in.

Mr. Poirot.

- Mademoiselle Lingard.

- Captain Hastings.
- Miss Lingard.

- Ah, you quite startled me.

- Still working on the book,
I see.

- Well, yes.

I was paid
until the end of the month,

and the book's
so nearly finished,

it's a shame to stop now.

- But this is not, I believe,
a fauve painting.

- No, it's later.

But it's
such a beautiful painting,

so sad.

- Yes, indeed.

Mademoiselle Lingard,

I wonder if I might
ask you some questions

concerning the death
of Monsieur Gervase Chevenix.

On the night of his death,

as the study door
was being broken open,

I noticed that you bent down
to retrieve something.

- Oh, yes.

It was this.

- Oh, looks like a bullet.

- That's what I thought.

But in fact,
it's a cuff link.

I believe it belongs
to Mr. Trent.

I was meaning
to give it back to him.

- I wonder what it was doing
outside the study.

- I've no idea.

- If you permit,
I shall return it to him

on your behalf.

- Oh, thank you.

- One final question,
Mademoiselle Lingard.

Ruth Chevenix.

- What about her?

- I understand
that you saw her

just before the body
was discovered.

- Yes.

It was just after we all
heard the shot.

She was with me
in the living room.

- Ah.

It is as I thought.

Merci.

- Well, that seems
to back up Ruth's story.

- Tell me, Hastings,
what was your opinion

of Mademoiselle Ruth?

- Well, I don't know.

I'd like to know why she seemed
so keen to defend John Lake.

- Pr�cis�ment.

And that is also the question
that exercises

the little gray cells
of Poirot.

- All right, Poirot, you win.

It wasn't suicide.

- From what comes this
change of mind, Chief Inspector?

- Well, it's like you said.

Gervase Chevenix
was right-handed.

But when we found him,
the gun was in his left hand.

- Oui.

- And as for the bullet,

it's vanished into thin air.

- Isn't it in the wall?

- Nowhere.

And here's something

that you ought to see...

The last will and testament
of Gervase Chevenix,

leaving his fortune--
and it's a tidy sum--

to Vanda and Ruth Chevenix.

They split it 50/50.

Oh, and there's a bequest
of �2,000

to Hugo Trent.

- Ah.

So he received his capital
after all.

- Ah, yes.

But there's something else.

We found this
in one of his desk drawers,

unlocked.

Anyone could have seen it.

- A second will.

- Yes,

but unsigned.

- What does it entail?

- It's completely barmy.

Vanda Chevenix gets everything

if Hugo Trent and Ruth Chevenix
don't marry each other.

- I say.

That sounds like
a motive for murder

if ever I heard one.

- Right.

That's what I thought too.

- So you are suggesting
that Monsieur Chevenix

was killed to prevent him
from signing this new will?

- Right.

- It is possible, yes.

- But there's one thing
I'd like to know, Poirot.

- What is that,
Chief Inspector?

- What exactly were you doing
at Hamborough Close?

How did you get mixed up
in all this?

Fraud?

- That is what Monsieur Chevenix
believed.

- Northgate Development.

Not quite what you'd expect,
is it?

- Well, if this place is just
a front, Captain Hastings,

it's exactly what I'd expect.

Yeah, the door's open.

It's very quiet.

There doesn't seem
to be anybody about.

- Place is deserted.

- Must've done a buck.

- I say, Poirot.

Come and look at this.

Pond Street, Harrow.

It's a scale model
of the development.

- Does it not remind you
of something, Hastings?

- Looks a bit like
Hamborough Close.

- It is the work
of the same hand.

Hastings, do you smell smoke?

Yes.

- God, there's someone in there.

Japp!

- What is it?

Blimey.

- It's John Lake.

- Come on, get him outside.

- Oh, sacre bleu.

The fire, it is spreading!

Chief Inspector,

Hastings, follow me!

Careful, Captain Hastings.

- Ugh, I can't see.

Good Lord.

- Mr. Poirot.

I'm sorry.

I've been foolish.

- You wish to tell me
about Northgate Development,

Monsieur Lake?

- Yes.

Yes.

I didn't know what I was doing.

That's the truth of it.

I was out of my depth.

To start with,
I was just the architect.

Then they asked me
if I'd like to be a partner.

I didn't know anything
about business,

but I was flattered.

- And so you helped them
to raise the finance?

- Yes.

- And they disappeared with it,
leaving you to carry the can.

- That's right.

When Gervase called you in,
I was afraid.

I panicked.

I just wanted
to get rid of the evidence.

- So it was you
that started the blaze.

- I set a device,

a timer.

- Which misfired.

- If you--

if you hadn't found me...

- Mr. Poirot.

- Mademoiselle.

- Chief Inspector.

I have to go in.

- I'm sorry, miss,
no visitors.

- But you don't understand.
I must see him.

- It's family only.

Those are doctor's orders.

- I am family, Chief Inspector.

I'm his wife.

John and I were married
a week ago.

Can I go in?

- Your husband awaits you.

- Well, well, well.

- So Ruth
secretly married John.

Well, good luck to her
is all I can say.

- But you also have plans
for the marriage,

Mademoiselle Susan.

- Yes, and from now on,

I'll be helping Hugo
with his business.

- But what brings you here,
Mr. Poirot?

Do you want to place an order?

- Oh, non, non, non.
Non, non, Monsieur Trent.

It is just this.

It belongs, I think, to you?

- Yes.

Yes, it is mine.

Where did you find it?

- Monsieur Trent, on the night
that your uncle died,

did you see Monsieur John Lake?

- No.

No, he was in the library.

- You heard the shot?

- Yes.

Susan heard it too.

- Yes.

I was dashing down the corridor.

I thought it was
a car backfiring.

- But why were you dashing,
Mademoiselle?

- Well, I'd got muddled
with the gongs,

and I was terrified
of being late.

You see, I thought I'd
already heard the first gong.

- Yes, I thought I heard it too.

- Exactly, Hastings.

And yet I, Hercule Poirot,
did not hear.

The case is solved.

- Solved? How?

- Ah, Hastings.

Did you not hear the testimony
of Mademoiselle Cardwell?

And do you not recollect
the bottle of champagne?

- It's gonna take
more than champagne

to solve this case, Poirot.

What about the bullet,
for instance?

- You shall have the bullet,
Chief Inspector.

Soon you shall have everything.

I have asked you all
to come here

so that you might learn
the true facts

concerning the death
of Monsieur Gervase Chevenix.

- He is not dead.

- Madame?

- He is on a different
spiritual plane, that's all.

- There, there.

- First, we must accept the fact
that this was not suicide.

Monsieur Chevenix
did not kill himself, non.

He was killed

and by someone
in this very room.

- It's not possible!

- There was no one in here
when we broke in.

And the door was locked
from the inside.

Gervase had the key.

And the windows were fastened.

- Anyway, no one would have
wanted to kill him.

- Indeed?

And yet it was you,
Mademoiselle Cardwell,

you yourself who told to me
that you hated him

and that you would let nothing
stand in between you

and Monsieur Hugo Trent.

- That's not fair.

- And you, Monsieur Trent?

You were desperate
to see your business succeed.

- It's true.
I--I needed money.

- Money which you now have,
Monsieur,

money which you would
never have received

without the death of your uncle.

You also, Monsieur Lake.

Oh, yes.

You are afraid from the moment
you set eyes on Poirot.

You have not only
committed arson.

You also persuaded
Monsieur Chevenix

to part with a sum
of �10,000.

- That wasn't my fault.

- Non?

I think Monsieur Chevenix
might have disagreed.

And you also.

You had every good reason
to wish your guardian dead,

Madame Lake.

- I had no reason at all.

And anyway,
even if it was murder,

it couldn't have been me.

- Non?

- I told you, Mr. Poirot.

Miss Ruth
was in the living room with me

when Mr. Chevenix was killed.

- At what time was that,
Mademoiselle Lingard?

And at what time
did Mr. Chevenix die?

- We know what time he died.

We heard the shot.

- Non, non, non.

You were deceived.

At 8:00, Monsieur Chevenix
was indeed in his study

working at his desk.

But he was not alone
in the room.

He turned.

- The gun was silenced.

No one heard the shot.

So...

let us now consider the language
of the bullet.

Hastings, please to sit.

The gun was discovered

in the left hand
of Monsieur Chevenix.

- Good. My card.

- And yet
from our very first meeting,

I knew that Monsieur Chevenix
was right-handed.

But if the bullet
was fired from behind...

Hastings?

Comme �a,

how could it possibly
hit the mirror,

which is to the side?

- It couldn't have.

- Non.

So now let us suppose

that the door to the study
was open.

If you please, Monsieur Snell.

Thank you.

And again, Hastings?

The gun comme �a.

- It would've hit the gong.

So that was the gong I heard.

- Well, then how did the mirror
get broken?

- The murderer wanted to make
an appearance of suicide.

But what if the sound
of the gong has been heard?

Then it would be known
that the door to the study

was open and not closed.

Quickly, the door is closed

and locked.

The gun is placed

into the left hand
of the dead man.

The key goes into the pocket.

The suicide note of one word
is easily forged

and the mirror
deliberately smashed.

When I first came here,

you will remember,
Chief Inspector,

that I discovered a fragment
of the looking glass

attached to this brass ornament,

the base of which
was also slightly damaged.

It was then
that I saw the light.

- So what happened then?

How did the killer leave?

- The killer left
through the window,

cleverly closing the latch
from the outside.

Voil�.

- So who was it?

Who was the murderer?

- Who entered the house
that night from the garden?

And who would have lost
everything

if Monsieur Chevenix had lived
to sign his new will?

- What new will?

- The will that disinherited you
completely

if you did not marry
Monsieur Hugo Trent.

But it was too late,
Madame Lake,

for you were already married.

- No!

You're wrong!

Stop him!

- Non, monsieur,
Poirot is never wrong.

The will,
it was left in this room.

You could have seen it
at any time.

But it was too late to undo
what you had already done.

Oh, yes, you were married

but to the man
your guardian most disliked.

- I was going to tell him.

I hated lying.

I'd planned to tell him
that very night.

- Non, not to tell him, madame--
to kill him.

- You're wrong!

- There's not a word of truth
in your story.

It's a lie from start to finish.

- That is for a jury to decide.

- Are you sure you're gonna
be all right, Vanda?

- Yes, yes.

Good night, Hugo.

- Good night,
Mrs. Chevenix.

Poor Ruth.

I still don't believe it.

- I hope you know
what you're doing, Poirot.

- Vanda.

Wake up.

- Who is it?

- It's Safra, Vanda.

Come downstairs.

It was you, Vanda.

You killed him.

- No.

- You know it was.
You killed Gervase.

Come down.

Come down!

You killed him

because you hated him.

Now you must make amends!

- I didn't.

- What have you hidden

in your locket, Vanda?

The bullet
that killed your husband!

- No.

- You must write a note
admitting it!

And then...

- No.

- It is enough.

I knew that you would
try something,

Mademoiselle Lingard.

But this?

- It's diabolical.

- I had to save her.

I had to save Ruth.

- Yes, I know.

And in order to save her,

you killed
Monsieur Gervase Chevenix.

And you are the real mother

of Ruth Chevenix,
are you not?

The typist
with whom the brother

of Monsieur Gervase Chevenix
fell in love.

- How did you know?

- There could be
no other explanation.

And in the museum,
that was when I saw.

- But it's
such a beautiful painting,

so sad.

- It was a painting of a mother
who loses her child.

And it was then that I saw

that you were also a mother

who had lost her child.

And you came to this house,
I think,

to check up on the daughter
that you had lost,

so you took up the position
of a researcher.

- Yes.

- And while you were working,

you stumbled
across the new will.

- He was going to ruin her life
with his...

pride and his snobbery.

- And so you decided to take
matters into your own hand.

You killed
Monsieur Gervase Chevenix

exactly as I described.

You then left the study,

taking care to leave
no footprints in the soil.

But unknown to you,

a few moments later,
Ruth Chevenix appeared

in search of a brooch
which she had lost.

She found it

but, in doing so,
left behind her own footprints.

It was then necessary
to continue

the illusion of suicide

and to establish
a false time of death.

It was very clever,
that idea of yours

to imitate a gun.

You then went
into the living room

and were there
when Ruth Chevenix came in.

- Good evening, Miss Ruth.

- Oh, good evening,
Miss Lingard.

- I found it most significant
that you did not tell to me

that Ruth Chevenix
entered the living room

from the garden.

- Well, how could I?

It would have incriminated her.

- And there was now
but one thing left to do:

the bullet.

- I found it by the gong

when you were
breaking open the door.

I wanted to drop it
inside the study,

but I didn't get the chance.

- And the cuff link
of Monsieur Trent?

- I stole that from his room.

I knew you'd seen me
picking up the bullet,

so I had to have
something to show you.

- Yes.

You almost succeeded
in confusing Poirot.

Chief Inspector.

- I think you'd better come
along with me, Miss Lingard.

Mr. Poirot.

I don't want Ruth to see me.

I don't care
what happens to me,

but please...

Don't let her see me.

- You have my word.

- Thank you.