All language subtitles for Endeavour.S05E02.720p.HDTV.x264-ORGANiC[eztv]

What can you see?

- Sorry.
- It's fine.

- Sorry.
- Sorry.

"Thrice woe be unto him

who disturbs the sleep of Akhenaten."

Mr Beavis?

Mr Beavis!

'But I have incontrovertible proof

that someone in this room is a murderer.

And that person is...

- It's ridiculous!
- Ooooh!

Sorry. Thank you. Sorry.

- Early for the intermission.
- Break in the reel, sir. They're fixing it now.

Pharaoh's Curse?

Maybe there is something
to the legend after all.

Pop. Guilia.

Go see to table four.

I'll make it up next week.

I'll be back for the rest.

Mr Nero won't be happy.

Guilia.

It wouldn't hurt you to show some respect.

Good men died so you could cock a snook.

Grandad, you don't have
to tell me who died.

Christ, do you think it matters to them who
stands or don't for the National Anthem?

I'll wind the reel.

- Good night.
- Good night, sir.

Good night, madam. Good night, madam.

Good night, madam. Good night, sir.

Just a few questions, Mrs Lupin,
so we've got everything straight.

- You found the deceased at what time?
- Well, I came in at 7.15.

"We meet again, Nayland Smith!"

- Suspicious?
- Nothing obvious.

Died some time between one
and three in the night.

Know more once I've got
his tripes in a tub.

That would accord with the landlady's
statement. She says he got back about midnight.

Ronald Beavis. Worked at
the Pitt-Rivers Museum.

- Doing what?
- She doesn't know.

She said he was banging about quite a
bit, making a racket, then he went quiet.

Found him when she brought
him his morning cuppa.

Would that be his usual time, midnight?

It varied, apparently.
Mostly worked nights.

- Any next of kin?
- Not as far as she knows.

Couldn't have a turn through
his pockets, could you?

He won't bite.

No.

No. Nothing, I'm afraid.

Apparently, his name was Ronald Beavis.

Yes. That much we know.

I need you to get to the Pitt-Rivers.
Find out what he did there.

Phone call, isn't it?

If you're willing to settle
for the bare minimum, yes.

Speak to his colleagues, see what they
made of him. Was he liked, disliked?

Did he owe any money?
Vice versa. Any rows?

I can write a list for you, if it'd help.

It's just a sudden death.
There's no signs of violence.

No visible signs of violence.

"There are more things in
heaven and earth, Horatio."

There isn't anything else?

- Shall we say three o'clock?
- Mm.

Who's Horatio?

It pays to be thorough.
Come on. Pitt-Rivers.

Sure.

- He's all right, you know.
- He's too full of himself by half.

Don't tell me you're warming to him?

I suppose he has a certain
eager, puppyish charm.

If one goes in for that sort of thing.

- There you are.
- Thank you.

- Where's Morse?
- Sudden death in Jericho.

This started around midnight,
according to the fire boys.

The seat of the fire was the front hall.

Petrol through the letterbox.

It's a miracle nobody was killed.

- How many living there?
- Six families.

Kenyan Asians. The latest
only moved in last week.

Nothing like a warm welcome.

Morning, sir.

- Let's see. What number
was it again? - 4429.

We're only at 4482 now. He must
have come in for the last showing.

- Was there many in?
- Oh, packed.

Late night, double feature.
X certificate. Horror.

Last night, it was The Pharaoh's
Curse and The Phantom Strangler.

All all right, Miss Copperstone?

This gentleman is from the police.

Detective Sergeant Morse.

Armand De Vere. Manager of the Roxy.

- All's well, I hope?
- Just a routine inquiry.

Nothing to be alarmed about.

I may just take a look around,
unless you've any objections.

Oh, by all means.

'Hyde Park, the setting for a
very heated protest meeting,

and the target this time is the
government's proposed Immigration Bill.

More than 3,000 immigrants were there
to demonstrate their antagonism,

chanting their hostility.

Marchers set off for No.10, Downing
Street to deliver a memorandum

to the Prime Minister.

The landlord of Khartoum
Street's Eddie Nero, sir.

Only I can't see him burning down
his own, it brings in too much rent.

- Who, then?
- The locals.

What little bit of bugger-all they have got,
they're frightened of losing to foreigners.

These people are British subjects.

Passport holders. We
have a responsibility.

I'm afraid we'll only see more of it,
sir. People whipping up ill feeling.

These "Make Britain Greater" types?

They put a leaflet through
my door only the other day:

"Would you let your
daughter marry a darkie?"

Two-bob Blackshirts.

I thought we'd seen the last of them.

Their sort's always around.

They find a rock to hide under till
conditions are right, and then out they come.

"The River Tiber foaming with much blood."

- Wasn't that it?
- The Tiber's not the Isis.

Hatred is hatred.

Once that catches hold, there's
no saying where it might lead.

- What's this?
- Emil Valdemar.

Before your time, I expect.

One of the big three, he was.

Karloff and Lugosi at Universal,

and Valdemar up the road at Mammoth.

- And he's coming here, to the Roxy?
- Tomorrow night.

He's over here shooting a
sequel to The Pharaoh's Curse.

He's gonna show clips and take
questions from the audience.

Tickets are going like hotcakes. You
gotta get one now, if you like horror.

I don't. Hm. Particularly.

Well, good luck with it.

The late, lamented
Detective Sergeant Beavis.

Should have the bloodwork back
tomorrow, but heart most likely.

Though it was probably a
photo-finish with his liver.

"Liked a drink." Isn't that the phrase?

It sounds so much nicer
than chronic alcoholic.

I don't suppose whether you could
say he'd had a late fried breakfast?

Well, his last meal, if
you could call it that,

was less haute cuisine and
more chimp's tea party.

Some kind of cereal matter, orange
squash and vanilla ice cream.

Popcorn. The cereal matter.

He'd been to the Roxy on Pym Street.

Some sort of horror season.

Do you go in for that?

Cruelty, torture and Kensington Gore?

For some of us, it's horror
season all year round.

Mm.

Mr Valdemar, sir, they're
ready for you on set.

Double eggs, chips and
beans for table six.

Good afternoon. I'm Detective
Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

I'm trying to trace the movements
of a man who died suddenly at home.

I wonder if you could tell
me if he'd been in here.

I must warn you, it's a
post-mortem photograph.

No.

Miss?

It seems he ordered a No.2
breakfast but didn't eat it.

What my dad said.

I'm just trying to find out
what time he might have been in.

Right, well, if you do remember
anything you can reach me here.

Thanks for the help.

So, how long were you at
that accommodation for?

It was only five months.

- Five months?
- Yes.

And are you both in full-time
employment at the moment?

- Hello.
- Hello.

- What's your name?
- Eisha.

- Anything from the Pitt-Rivers?
- He was a nightwatchman.

And sometimes he helped
out moving the exhibits.

But they were a bit put out. He was
meant to be on duty last night.

- What's this?
- That sudden in Jericho. Ronald Beavis.

- He worked there.
- For about three years.

- Everyone seemed to like him.
- Very good, Constable. Very thorough.

- Wouldn't you say, Morse?
- Yes, very.

- How did it go with the fire?
- It was arson, no doubt about it.

The house was filled with Kenyan Asians.

One of Eddie Nero's fire-traps.

He was ex-job, Beavis.

Detective Sergeant with
County out of Banbury.

Retired in '59.

No next of kin on record.

Doesn't ring a bell.

- Nothing suspicious, then?
- No. Not according to Dr DeBryn.

But he had a bill for a No.2 breakfast
in his wallet from Brown's Cafe.

I asked if he'd been in and they
were... well, they were a bit cagey.

If someone had keeled over after
being in my caff, I might be, too.

I don't care what you think
you know or don't know.

Threaten me and you'll
bloody well regret it.

- All right, Betty?
- Yes, Mr De Vere.

Oh, you're short on vanilla tubs.

Better restock before the intermission.

Help yourself.

Thank you.

It's Morse. I'm going
off shift as of 19.31.

Yep. Thank you.

- Is everything all right?
- Does it look like it?

Sorry.

- I was supposed to be
meeting someone. - Ah.

Where's a good place to
get a drink round here?

Um...

Come with me.

I've just finished work.

♪ BOSSA NOVA JAZZ SONG

- Morning.
- Morning.

Bye.

- Tea's in the pot.
- I think I'll have coffee.

Suit yourself.

Who's your friend?

She's just some girl.

I thought you were off the birds.

Strange.

Right, look sharp.

We've an arson on the Watt Court Estate.

Aspirin's in the cabinet.
I'll get the car round.

Petrol through the letterbox.

Same as the multi-occupancy
on Khartoum Street.

Aye-aye.

- Hello, stranger.
- Jim!

- Long time no see.
- Well, you know how it is.

- Miss Thursday.
- Morse.

What's this then, Joanie?

Um, I've been working here. Part-time.

- Doing what?
- Admin mostly.

Been any trouble?

Someone threw a brick at the
window yesterday. Some yob.

There was an Asian family
in, asking for advice.

Morse. Word through
from Dr DeBryn on Beavis.

Says you and the DCI should
drop by at your earliest.

I'll go get him.

WPC Trewlove will take your
statement when you're ready.

Good morning. I'm
Detective Sergeant Morse.

Oh, are you here for Fred?

Well... who's this, then?

- Morse, he's called.
- I'm Charlie, Fred's brother.

- I see you met my good lady wife, Paulette.
- Ah, yes, indeed.

Well, pull up a seat,
son. Take the weight off.

I expect you saw my car, did
you, outside, wonder who it was?

We're up for the week.
Little break. See the sights.

It's our first time in Oxford.

- Ah.
- Anyone want more tea?

Oh. Our daughter, Carol.
This is Fred's boy from work.

- Morse, is it?
- Yes.

Er... Yes, pleased to meet you.

Maybe you could find time to
show her around the place.

- Dad!
- Me and Paulette

are taking Fred and Win out
tonight for a slap-up meal.

She won't want to be dragging
about with us old 'uns, will ya?

Morse.

Oh, aye-aye, look sharp. Officer on deck.

- Morning, sir.
- Sir, eh? Sir.

Get you, Fred. Well, how about that, then?

Arise, Sir Fred.

Station said something about another fire.

Yes, sir. At the Public Advice Centre.

On Watt Court Estate.

I've left Strange and Fancy to deal.

Dr DeBryn would like to
talk to us about that sudden.

Public Advice Centre? Isn't
that where Joan's working?

Yes. I've seen her. She's fine.

I was just asking your lad here if he could
find time to show our Carol round the town.

I shouldn't think he'll
have time, with his duties.

Well, you're not at it 24
hours a day, surely, eh?

I wouldn't expect you to pay
for it out of your own pocket.

- That wouldn't be necessary.
- Don't embarrass the man, Charlie.

You can meet her in town somewhere.

Take her for a drink,
say, what, around seven?

- You'd be doing me a favour.
- He doesn't want to.

No, er...

Um...

What about the Sheldonian?

Right.

Well, go and put some clothes on.

Walking round in barely a stitch,
showing everybody what you've got.

- Dad, you're so embarrassing.
- I'll see you later. Morse.

To the Batmobile, eh?

I have the toxicology
report on Mr Beavis' blood.

Nux-vomica.

Ingested an hour or two
before his decease.

Strychnine.

That explains why he didn't eat
what he ordered at the greasy spoon.

So how did he come by it?
Not at the caff, surely?

His shirt had one or two spots on it.

Once the lab identified poison,

I took a swab and tested it.

It came out positive.

The poison was in... orange squash.

Er, I'm afraid Mr De
Vere isn't on duty yet.

But I can get the Assistant
Manager, Mr Bullings, for you.

If you would.

One for the teenagers.

- Emil Valdemar? Must be 80 if he's a day.
- Mm, he's doing some talk here.

Proper old picture house.

Don't get many like this anymore.

We used to go down the Mile End
Rivoli of a Saturday morning.

The thrupenny rush.

I'd go in first and spring the window
in the gents for Chas and Billy.

- You ever go?
- Where? Saturday morning pictures?

My mother took me once.

All that screaming in the dark. It
was like something out of Dante.

What? I couldn't hear the film.

Well, you don't know what you're missing.

Couple of Maroon Cartoons,

the serials,

a Western if you're lucky. Tom Mix.

Mind you, my favourite was
always Laurel and Hardy.

B-I-it me. Bit me.

It's gone now. A buzz bomb got it.

Look, about Carol. Don't feel you
have to show her around on my account.

Er...

Oh, back again.

Molly said something about the police.

DCI Thursday, DS Morse, Thames Valley.

We're looking into the death
of one of your patrons.

- Just need to ask a few questions.
- Of course. Anything I can do to help.

These cartons of orange
squash. The Whakahari.

They're sold here and
where? With the usherettes?

That's right. They load up their trays
from here or the general stores.

So who was on the counter
the night before last?

That would be me.

Do you remember serving this customer?

I must warn you, it's a
post-mortem photograph.

No, I'm afraid not.

An usherette, perhaps?

There was only one on.

Betty. Betty Persky.

- Sorry, I don't remember him.
- That's all right, Miss Persky.

Number of people come through
here, it'd be a miracle

if you remembered every customer.

- You worked here long?
- A year, just coming up.

- Nice place?
- Yeah, it's all right.

Though I don't know how long it'll last.

- How's that? - Well, there's
talk of it being pulled down.

Flats, I think. Or a car park.

- Where did you hear that?
- Ssh!

Off Mr De Vere.

I was cleaning up behind the refreshments,

when I heard him talking to Mr
Kegworth, the projectionist.

I mean, I say talking. It
was more like having words.

'Wilton Road, Oxford. The Taj Mahal.

I've a friend up at head office.

He says there's been talk
about closing the Roxy.

Some developer looking to buy the place.

What did Mr De Vere say?

That I shouldn't believe all that I hear.

The sons want to let it go.

But Mr Jephson Senior
wants to hold onto it.

Be a blow for you, I expect, if it went.

They'll all go in the end.

Well, the television.

Huh.

I've been here since it
opened. 40 years near on.

I've been training my
grandson Ken up to take over,

but he seems more drawn to
the, er... the management side.

When the Roxy goes, I'll go with it.

And that'll be that.

Excuse me.

Mr Garnier?

You've any requests, they'll have
to wait for the next session.

Police, sir. Detective Chief Inspector
Thursday, Detective Sergeant Morse.

- My playing wasn't that bad, surely?
- It sounded very fine, sir.

No, we're pursuing inquiries
into a patron of the cinema.

I wonder if you'd take a
look at this photograph.

You've seen him?

Night before last.

Between the intermission and the Queen,

I've usually a couple
of hours on my hands.

I'll have a smoke, maybe
take a look at the paper.

Normally, nobody's in here
when the picture's showing.

Only, this time... there he was.

Your man Beavis.

- What was he doing?
- Just standing there.

Waiting, I'd have said.

I asked him his business, and he
said he was looking for the gents.

So I told him where it was,
and he went on his way.

- And that was it, was it?
- No.

Normally, I'd have forgotten all
about it, if that's all it was.

But sometimes, when it's a clear night,

I'll go up onto the roof.

Oxford by moonlight.

Just you and the stars.

I heard someone talking,

so I wandered over to the edge.

And he was on the fire escape landing,

talking to someone by
the Circle fire exit.

And you couldn't see who
it was he was talking to?

No, they never came out.

Then the door shut, and
he went on his way.

I stubbed my smoke and went back down.

Hard to see how someone could have got
the poison inside if it was sealed.

Nobody will drink from
a carton that's open.

All depends if Beavis was the intended
victim or we've a madman on our hands.

Could have been poisoned at random,
you think? Just a face in the crowd?

The organist was under the impression
he was meeting someone at the Roxy.

Maybe another patron or a member of
staff. Which would suggest it was meant.

He was a retired Detective Sergeant.

One of his old cases, you
think? Someone with a grudge?

Nine years retired, sir.
Late in the day for revenge.

That's one thing it's never too late
for. Start going through his old cases.

See if he's ever nicked anyone
who works at the cinema.

Unless he bought his orange
squash somewhere else.

That's unlikely, I'd have thought.

But not impossible. Trace all the routes
he could have taken between the two.

Show his picture at any pub
you find along the way.

- What do we know about the cinema?
- Not much, sir. Owned by the Jephsons.

There was talk of a
sale for redevelopment,

but I can't see Beavis might figure in it.

Right, well, keep me informed.

- Oh, anything more on these arson cases?
- Matter of fact, sir,

I've heard back on the owner of the Advice
Centre. Another one of Eddie Nero's.

The proverbial bad penny.

Nobody thought to burn down
his wretched gym, I suppose.

Well, carry on.

You know, you shouldn't
be too hard on the boy.

It's encouragement he wants.

- A bit of praise goes a long way.
- Checking local boozers?

That's not police work,
that's a pub crawl.

He comes back with anything more
than a skinful, I'll eat my hat.

Maybe it's a 20-1 shot, but I
gave you a long lead often enough.

Some of the schemes you come up with.

- But I knew what I was doing.
- Not always.

But often enough to make a difference.

Give him a chance. He might surprise you.

As I told your colleague, he
worked as a nightwatchman.

Lately, he'd been filling in
for an attendant who's off sick.

Did he ever mention the
Roxy cinema to you?

A member of staff that he knew, maybe?

Not to me. But I did not
know him particularly well.

I am on loan from the Cairo Museum.

Together with some of
the visiting exhibits.

So you mind all the bits
and pieces down here?

If by that you mean

do I make sure no harm befalls the priceless
artefacts of my people's ancient history,

then yes, I mind the bits and pieces.

No slight was intended, Doctor.

With the British, it never is.

And yet, as I say, I hardly knew him.

There is nothing more I can tell you.

If you'll excuse me, I have much to do.

He doesn't seem to have
been close to anyone at work

but, having met his supervisor, a Dr
Shoukry, I can't say as I blame him.

Not what you'd call a
sunny personality, sir.

And none too keen on the
British, by the sound of things.

Yeah, well, we've all met that type.

Chip on the shoulder a mile wide.

They want to remember who it
was built the bloody Suez Canal.

- It was the French.
- Was it?

Any event, working nights he
mostly brought in his own snaps.

That still leaves only the cinema or the
caff where he'd come by this poisoned squash.

Or a public house, of course.

Oh, yes. Any luck with that, Constable?

No. Nobody's... nobody's seen him.

No, well, Morse thought it unlikely.

Cold water's good for hiccups.

Er, one or two, er... other matters
to go over, sir, if you've a moment.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Don't ever come in here half-cut
again. Do you understand?

This isn't a game.

- All done?
- For now.

Got a nice bit of haddock for tonight.

Thought I might do it with a
poached egg. Bit of pepper.

Bread and scrape.

Well, I can't. I've got a date.

I wondered if I had the right place.

- Everyone said this was it.
- I was held up at work.

I wasn't complaining.

A civil servant?

You tell some people you're a
police officer and they run a mile.

You weren't exactly forthcoming yourself.

I remember there wasn't
much talking at all.

If I've put you on the spot, they
think I stayed at Cousin Joan's.

- What did she think?
- She didn't think anything.

That's who I was supposed to
be seeing. Only, she was busy.

Fate.

Look...

The thing about mistakes
is not to repeat them.

Is that what it was? A mistake?

It's not like anyone got hurt, is it?

What would you like to see first?

It's up to you.

Well, this is as good a
place to start as any.

Sheldonian Theatre. Built after the
Restoration by Christopher Wren.

Named for the Chancellor of the
university at the time: Gilbert Sheldon.

Shall we?

- Well, this is very nice, I must say.
- Best in town. I made sure of it.

Order anything you like. Tonight's on me.

No need to push the boat out,
Charlie. Not on our account.

Let me worry about that.

Ooh, it's a big menu.

Course it's a big menu. It's not
Sammy's Pie and Mash shop, is it?

Come on, let's have
some service here, John.

My mouth is as dry as Geronimo's sock.

And through here is the Radcliffe Camera.

Oh.

And this is Hertford Bridge.

Most people call it The Bridge of
Sighs after its namesake in Venice.

But it more closely
resembles the Rialto Bridge.

- It's lovely.
- Mm.

Come on. The Ashmolean.

What? What is it?

Look, I can just get the bus
back, if you tell me which one.

- And I won't say anything to Uncle Fred.
- No, it's not that.

I'm sorry.

What would you like to do?

Mr Xarkoff. Armand De Vere, the manager.

May I welcome you on behalf of
Jephson Cinemas to the Roxy.

Happy to be here.

May I present Miss Veronique
Carlton, our leading lady.

Charmed.

Wonderful to meet you, Miss Carlton.

- Is Emil here yet?
- He arrived about half an hour ago,

but he was feeling a bit tired
so I've let him use my flat.

Er, apartment.

- And Jason?
- Running a little late.

Shall we?

Someone looks as though they've
lost a shilling and found sixpence.

Don't you start.

Why? What's up?

I'm in the doghouse, aren't I?

- Are you sure we're allowed in here?
- I'm a policeman.

I'm allowed anywhere.

Another drink for Mr Nero, please, Betty.

Oh, my God.

It's Jason Curwen!

Who?

The blind violinist in
Two Weeks In August.

With Diana Day!

- What would you like to drink?
- Oh, I don't mind. You choose.

Yes, sir. What can I get for you?

Could I have a champagne
and a scotch. Thank you.

Not over there, OK?

That's all very well,
Professor, but you realise

every last member of the original expedition
died in highly unusual circumstances.

All except... yourself.

As may be, Steven,

but what you're suggesting

breaks all the natural laws
of science known to man.

A creature restored to life after
three-and-a-half thousand years?

And hell-bent on revenge?

Impossible!

Excuse me.

You simply can't do that!

No ifs, no buts. It's happening.

- But, Mr Nero, please!
- Enough! Go on.

Oh! Oh! Oh! Argh!

Victoria!

Steven!

Come to me.

Ladies and gentlemen, a sneak
preview of some marvellous clips

of Zoltan Xarkoff's latest
production, The Pharaoh Rises.

I must protest!

This fantasy is grossly disrespectful
to the culture of the Egyptians!

- Please sit down, sir!
- Bad enough our treasures have for centuries

been plundered by Europeans.

- But this latest affront...
- With respect, sir, it's an entertainment.

To you, perhaps. Not for us. Not for us.

Come along now, sir. I warn you,

all of you,

if you persist with this
sacrilege, you will answer for it!

Apologies, ladies and gentlemen.

Well, what can one say about the
man we are to honour tonight?

Decorated war hero,

star of the early silent films,

alongside Pickford, Chaplin and Fairbanks.

And then the work for
which he is justly famous:

a classic series of horror films
at Mammoth Pictures Studios.

Ladies and gentlemen, it is a great
honour to introduce Emil Valdemar, MC.

You're very kind. Thank you.

Well, that was lovely.

- Do you want more splosh, Win?
- Not too much, Charlie. You'll have me tiddly.

- Dad, where's the er...?
- It's just on the right, where we came in.

I'll keep you company. I'm bursting.

- Good to see you, Fred.
- You too, Charlie.

You're looking well.
How's business your end?

Well, you know, funny
you should ask, Fred.

I'd like your advice on a little
thing that's, er... come up.

But not here, eh? We'll talk about it
amongst ourselves, without the girls.

Of course. Nothing serious though, is it?

No, no, no. Never better.

Thursday.

- Friend of yours, Fred?
- Evening, sir.

I had no idea you were an habitue
of Chez Andre. Please sit down.

Oh, I'm not, er, usually, sir.

My middle brother, Charlie,
Chief Superintendent Bright.

Bit of a mouthful. What
do they call you at home?

Reginald.

Pull up a chair, join us for a nightcap.

No, no, really, I wouldn't wish
to intrude on a family occasion.

The more the merrier. I insist.

- That's very kind of
you. Thank you. - Hey!

Another chair for our guest.

Erm, what can I get you, Reg?

Reginald. I'll have a
brandy, I think, if I may.

Talking about all these old movies makes
me wonder if I really did all that.

Well, you did. And more.

And now, of course, The Pharaoh Rises,

in which you play not only the
eponymous hero, but also his nemesis.

Yes. Two Valdemars for the price of one.

I shall complain to my agent.

Lately you've been involved
in a hugely successful run

at International British Pictures.

Your Montressor in The Cask of
Amontillado being a particular pleasure.

- You are very kind.
- It would be fair to say

that it is the part of
Akhenaten that made your name.

Yes, you could say that, yes.

The production, unusually,
was filmed in Egypt.

It was.

Well, our producer, Meriam, was
such a stickler for authenticity.

She... Jus...

Wha... What?

Is this a regular haunt for
you, then, er... Reginald?

Yes, sometimes. When Mrs
Bright is out for the evening.

Where's she off to tonight,
then? Down the bingo?

No. I believe it's the Unmarried Mothers.

Mrs Bright does a lot of good works.

What line of work are you in, Charles?

I've a warehouse. Shadwell Basin.

Thursday & Co.

Funny how the world turns.

Our old man used to bare-knuckle
it for a shift at the same gaff

that's now got my name over the door.

Mr Bright doesn't want to
hear about that. Sorry, sir.

Not at all. It's... fascinating.

I think we can dispense with
formalities this evening, Thursday.

Yes, sir. Mr... Er, Reginald. Right, sir.

- Sergeant.
- Strange! Good heavens.

Sorry to interrupt your evening, sir, but
there's been an incident at the Roxy.

- What on earth is going on?
- It's the organist, sir. Leslie Garnier.

I have the audience out of the auditorium
and into the bars and corridors.

- What about the staff?
- Guarding the exits. Eddie Nero's here.

He's in the manager's flat
with the rest of the VIPs.

Right.

- Uniform taking down particulars?
- Yes, sir.

Do you have any idea how long we'll
be here? We're on set at seven o'clock

and Emil's in make-up at five.

I'm afraid not, Mr Xarkoff.

Perhaps, in the meantime, I
could freshen your glasses?

Well, I was hoping to present
this after the interview

on behalf of Jephson Cinemas, Mr Valdemar.

A small token of our
appreciation and admiration.

Oh, how very kind.

What is the meaning of this?

Kenneth, what happened to the watch?

- I've no idea, sir. I put it in there myself.
- I'm so sorry, Mr Valdemar.

There's clearly been a mix-up.

Take it away, Kenneth, take it away.

- Could it have been natural causes?
- Well, it could.

But we've one death connected
to the cinema already.

I thought it best not to take chances.

But no reason to suspect
anything untoward?

Garnier said he saw Beavis talking
to somebody on the fire escape.

Maybe that same someone
saw Garnier talking to us.

Or maybe Garnier went to them.

Blackmail?

I saw him take a drink from
the bar at eight o'clock.

And he collapsed at half-past nine.
If it was Strychnine in the Martini,

he'd have felt the effects much later.

- What if it was something faster acting?
- Or he was poisoned earlier.

Either are possible, of course. But I'm afraid
I won't be able to give you a definitive answer

until I've got the results of his blood.

But you can't imagine any of the guests
had anything to do with Leslie's death?

- They never met him till today.
- It's unlikely, sir, I grant you,

but they may have seen or heard something
that has a bearing on our inquiries.

He's had some sort of heart
attack, hasn't he? Or a seizure.

We won't know the cause of Mr Garnier's death
until after the post-mortem is concluded.

But it is the second sudden death connected
to the Roxy in the last three days.

What's your business with Eddie Nero?

You were seen in private
conversation with him.

He's a guest of Mr Jephson
Junior, the son of the owner.

He generously offered to take
everyone out to dinner at his club.

Ladies and gentlemen, if I
might have your attention,

these gentlemen are from the police.

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday,
Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

We'll try not to detain you
any longer than necessary,

but we will need to ask
questions of all of you in turn.

All right, Carol, I think
you'd better cut along home.

Morse'll get a constable
to drive you back. Morse?

Mr Jephson, if I could start with you.

I don't know what was in that box,

but that poor old man looked
like he'd had an awful shock.

Here, let me.

Well, thanks for a... memorable evening.

I don't suppose I'll be seeing
you again before we go back.

Well, I... don't see how I
can compete with Jason Curwen.

It wasn't a mistake.

Not everything has to be more than it is.

Constable Davis will see you home. Davis.

- This is DCI Thursday's
niece. If you could... - Hiya.

Doesn't matter what stone
I turn over, does it?

I'm a great patron of the arts.

Ask anyone that knows me.

You wouldn't get out of bed
unless there was a dollar in it.

- What's your business with De Vere?
- Nothing.

I met him through the owner.

Mr Jephson and I are in business together.

Have you ever had any dealings
with Leslie Garnier? The organist.

I'm more of an Errol Garner man myself.

What about Ronald Beavis?

The only Ronald Beavis I know is Ronnie
Beavis. One of yours, out of Banbury.

Tried to fit me up on a B&E charge once.

I haven't seen him in donkeys. Why?

So is that it, then? I can go?

For the minute.

You never asked about the arson.

Khartoum Street, now this
Public Advice Centre.

That makes two of yours in as many days.

Be these racialists, I'd
have thought, wouldn't you?

Nice little earner. Shovelling
them up from the airport,

bussing them off to Christ knows where.

How many more dossers you
got like that around town?

If they weren't renting off me, it'd
all be on the council, wouldn't it?

Should be some sort of civic
award for people like me.

Don't hold your breath. Second thoughts...

Go on, you're done for now.

- So you hadn't met Mr Garnier?
- No.

There really isn't much I can tell you.

I was up here until the manager came to
collect me a few minutes before I was due on.

- Did anyone bring you a
Martini from the bar? - No.

The manager, Mr De Vere, did offer
to bring me a little tincture.

But it must have slipped his mind.

I understand you had
something of a shock earlier.

A gift from the management.

They wanted to give me a watch.

Which had gone astray.

But on top of this awful
thing with that man dying,

I really didn't think it
was the right time or place.

- You knew him well, the organist?
- Leslie? Oh, yes, sir.

Best part of ten years, I should think.

I came across from the Stoll-Moss circuit
and Leslie was already installed.

- Very nice gentleman.
- Variety?

Oh, yes, sir.

I've opened the doors for all the greats.

It's probably why Leslie
and I got on so well.

- We'll need a next of kin.
- He was a single man, sir.

Much like myself.

I'll miss my pal.

He always had a friendly word.

- And he was a master of the Compton.
- The organ, sir.

I used to play a bit
myself, sir. The piano.

In my younger days, of
course, before um...

Well, king and country, sir.

So we had that in common, too: the music.

What happened to the man who
caused the disturbance earlier?

I threw him out on his ear, sir,
on the street, where he belongs.

I know Arabs, sir. You
can't trust a-one of them.

All right, you go about your business.

A constable will take over from here.

He was popular with the rest
of the staff, Miss Persky?

I think he'd had a falling
out with Mr De Vere.

I couldn't say what over, but
I just heard Mr De Vere say,

"Don't you threaten me,"
or something like that.

- When was this?
- Last night, during the first feature.

Did you make Mr Garnier a Martini?

Oh, no, sir. Usually he'd have one
waiting for him on the organ to sip at.

Part of his act. You know, he'd
raise his glass to the audience.

But we were under strict orders
from Mr De Vere to keep him straight.

He threatened you? With what?

Said he wanted to quit.

Not for the first time.

I called his bluff.

Leslie had a weakness for the booze.

The whole National Anthem thing was so he
could get out of here and get into the pub.

- You liked him?
- Yes.

Apart from the drink.

I felt a bit sorry for him, truth be told.

He played all over the world, you
know. On the liners, after the war.

I expect coming to the Roxy was a bit
of a comedown, after that sort of life.

You put a drink on the
bar earlier in the lounge.

- Who was that for?
- Mr Valdemar.

- Mr De Vere asked me to.
- But Mr Garnier took it.

I wouldn't know, sir. I set it on the
bar, turned round to take another order

and when I looked back, it had gone. I
thought Mr De Vere must have collected it.

I believe there was something of
an upset earlier with Mr Valdemar.

- Something to do with a present?
- Oh, yeah.

Mr De Vere bought him a watch
as a thank you from the cinema.

He showed it to us when
he fetched it back.

He asked me to find a nice box for it.

I got hold of one, put the watch inside
and left it in Mr De Vere's office.

- So anyone could have
had access to it? - Sure.

- What was in the box when he opened it?
- Funny-looking little thing.

See for yourself.

I'll need a list of everyone in
the audience as soon as you can.

Yeah. We'll cadge a lift
back off uniform, eh?

- You go on.
- All right, fine. Been a long night.

- I don't suppose Valdemar's
still here, is he? - Gone. Why?

That present that he was given.

Hieroglyphics?

- Is someone playing a joke on him?
- Don't know.

But if that glass Garnier took
from the bar does contain poison,

he wasn't the intended victim.

The drink was meant for Valdemar.

- Thank you.
- Thanks.

Pissed the bed?

You know me, Fred.

Early riser. Always have been.

Cup of tea? One just brewed.

It's the business.

I need a loan.

Only short-term, just so I can
make the payroll this month.

You'll get it back. Every last
penny, with interest. I swear.

Can't you go to the bank?

I'm in it with them up to here.

And that's all it is? No-one's
leaning on you? The twins?

No, no, nothing like that.

Well...

.. I've only ever had a copper's wages.

Two kids, mortgage.

I've got the pension to fall back on.

We've got a bit put by.

But I'm no Rockefeller.

And I'd need to talk to Win.

How much are we talking about?

This was stolen from us.
It's a funerary scarab.

New Kingdom. Armana Period.

Inscribed with the nomen cartouche
for the Pharaoh Akhenaten.

Formerly Amenhotep IV.

Akhenaten?

That's the same character played
by Emil Valdemar, isn't it?

He wasn't a character.
He was a ruler of Egypt.

Come with me, please.

It went missing from here.

And would Beavis have had
keys to this cabinet?

He'd certainly know where to find a set.

Does it have some sort of
special meaning, this scarab?

Traditionally, it is placed inside
the body, in place of the heart.

It bears also lines from
the Book of the Dead.

An appeal to the heart not
to speak against the dead.

If the heart is found wanting
by the rulers of the afterworld,

the deceased are barred from
passing on to the afterlife.

- Where did you come by it?
- It was at the Roxy cinema last night.

I understand you caused
quite a stir there, Doctor.

So would you, Chief Inspector.

These films are a travesty.

A calumny upon Egypt and all Egyptians.

Just a bit of fun, surely?

There is a time for fun.

My country's at war with Israel.

A situation you British created.

My own son was shot
down over Suez last July.

These films, this nonsense,

makes a mockery of the history
and culture he died to defend.

Forgive me, Dr Shoukry.

One father to another,
you have my condolences.

Are you absolutely sure, Dr DeBryn?

- Cyanide.
- Not strychnine?

I found the remains of a capsule of the
same stuffed inside the olive in the Martini.

As the alcohol dissolved the
casing, so the cyanide seeped out.

It was meant for Valdemar, then.

- Valdemar said he'd never
met Garnier. - Yeah. Why?

Autograph book.

Oh, yes. That was in his
jacket, along with his wallet.

- Final entry.
- "Emil Valdemar."

Mr Garnier certainly had a
collection of the great and the good.

Looks like a lifetime's hobby.

Gracie Fields, George
Formby, Laurel and Hardy.

Must have been their last tour,
sir, 1953. I tried to get tickets.

Worth a lot of money, I
should think to a collector.

But the point is, Garnier must have seen
Valdemar in order to get his signature.

Why did Valdemar deny it? Seems
a trivial matter to lie about.

So, Beavis nicks this beetle, or
whatever it is, from the Pitt-Rivers

and tries to flog it to... who?

And how did it get to
be in Valdemar's gift?

The only prints in it are
mine, Valdemar's and Beavis's.

Valdemar had no connection
to Beavis, so far as we know?

Not that we've been able
to establish yet, sir.

Strange is also looking at all the staff

to see if their paths crossed with Beavis.

From his time at County, you mean?

Yes, sir. There may be more among
Garnier's belongings might shed light.

Constable Fancy's collecting
evidence from his flat

while Morse and me brace Valdemar.

You think he might have
been the intended victim?

If the glass that Garnier took from the
bar was poisoned, almost certainly.

[Ready?]

[Stand by!]

[Roll sound!]

[Roll camera!]

Action!

Victoria!

Victoria!

Over here, Professor!

And cut! Print! Moving on!

It is my signature.

But you don't remember
signing it for Mr Garnier?

When you've been signing
autographs for as long as I have,

I could have signed
dozens yesterday evening.

You don't notice people's faces.

But Akhenaten's cartouche:

I would not commit that mark to paper.

Why not, sir?

The Pharaoh's Curse was well named.

Of all the people involved
in that production...

.. I am the last one left alive.

Is that so unusual, sir?

You were a relatively young
man when the picture was made

and, well...

Now I'm an old man.

Maybe so.

But within a year, two of
the cast members were dead.

The director died in a plane crash.

It's been like that ever since.
Every year, one or two more.

That's Hollywood hyperbole, surely?

Something to help sell the film.

Would that it were.

What made you think there
was something to it?

We shot exteriors on location,

but when we returned to the studio

we were using properties
loaned to us by Hearst.

Genuine antiquities he'd
acquired some way or another.

A delegation from the Egyptian
Consulate tried to picket the studio.

They said we were desecrating
their rites and sacred relics...

.. and no good would come of it.

- And what happened?
- Oh, the studio had the police move them on.

They're a superstitious, vengeful people.

I know. I saw enough of
them during the Great War.

I was up the desert too,
sir, in the second go.

Then you know what I mean.

So that's why you reacted as
you did when you saw the scarab?

I used to think it was a load of nonsense.

Now I'm not so sure.

Emile. We're ready for you.

I'm afraid there's really
nothing more I can tell you.

I might have signed that autograph,

but I would never... never use
the cartouche of Akhenaten.

It's a rum go, and no mistake.

What do you make of Dr Shoukry?

Well, he has a fair grievance, I suppose.

Bad enough to see its
nation's treasures plundered,

but to watch its culture
turned into cheap thrills...

Enough to kill someone over, though?

The cinema's Assistant
Manager, Kenneth Bullings, sir.

13th of January, 1941.

He has form for theft,
affray: most of it juvenile.

But we've an ABH in
1958 handled by County.

The investigating officer
was Ronald Beavis.

You've got something of a
chequered past, Mr Bullings.

Affray, assault, occasioning
actual bodily harm.

Do you remember who pinched you on that?

That was ten years ago.

No, I don't.

Then you'd be surprised to learn it was
Ronald Beavis, a patron of the Roxy.

He was at The Pharaoh's
Curse the other night

and found dead in his
flat the following morning.

Poisoned. Just like Mr Garnier.

I don't know anything about that.

Is that the truth, Kenneth?

Cos if you are involved in some way,

you'd feel so much better if you got
it off your chest, I promise you.

You didn't mean to kill Garnier, did you?

Listen, I've come here to talk
to you of my own free will.

And now you're being interviewed
under caution, so take thought.

- You made that Martini for Valdemar.
- I told you I did.

Just the way he likes it. One
part Martini to two part vodka.

- Dash of bitters.
- And an olive.

No! Twist. Of lemon.

- Are you sure about that?
- Yeah.

He can't bear olives. Famous for it.

It was in an interview I read with him.

They remind him of Egypt.

Guess he had too many of them when
he was making The Pharaoh's Curse.

Christ, you think I put
something in his drink.

I didn't. Honest.

I'm not the same as when I was a kid.

Ask anyone that knows me.

So, if the Martini Garnier took from
the bar didn't have an olive in it,

that means Valdemar's
drink wasn't poisoned.

And Garnier was the intended victim.

Nothing to do with Valdemar and his curse.

Which makes the scarab
business just mischief?

Pretty extreme mischief, given the
man who stole the scarab is now dead.

We've only got Shoukry's word for it that
Beavis could have taken it, don't forget.

More to the point, how did Garnier come by

the poisoned Martini if not from Bullings?

Given his form, my
money's still on Kenneth.

When he was younger, yeah,
he got in with a bad crowd.

But he's a good lad at heart.

- And I should know. I've had the
raising of him. - How's that?

His mother upped and
went off with a Canadian.

He didn't want to be landed
with another bloke's kiddie.

So it's just been Ken and me.

I've done my best by him.

- Why? Where was his father?
- Tobruk.

He was buried out there.

Well, what was left of him.

Panzer.

Flamethrower.

Oi, what's all this?

Everything from Garnier's flat.

Pays to be thorough. Right?

Quite right, Constable.

It's mostly old tat from
Garnier's travels, sir.

I brought his post, too.

Bills and final demands,
as far as I can see.

Put them on the evidence table
and I'll give it a look through

once I've been through
the audience particulars.

Evening, Pop. Guilia.

So, have you got what I came for?

There. That wasn't so hard, was it?

Guilia.

Liam Flynn. Died in the ambulance.

Three stab wounds,

two of which would have
tested the finest of surgeons.

Blade about six inches long.

There's not much more I
can tell you, I'm afraid.

All right, Doctor, thank you very much.

Flynn.

One of Eddie Nero's men, isn't he?

Wallet's empty.

So you've never seen him before.

No.

I don't know who he is.

His name was Liam Flynn.

He earned his living extorting
money from businesses like yours.

Protection racket.

For a man called Eddie Nero.

I wouldn't know anything about that.

I told you what happened. That's it.

All right, Mr Gallo.

We'll have a quick word with your
daughter and we'll be on our way.

She's got nothing to say
more than what I've said.

Why don't we sit down, Miss Gallo?

Your name came up on a list
of cinema goers at the Roxy

the night the organist died.

Yeah. My night off. My
boyfriend works there.

Who's your boyfriend?

Ken. Ken Bullings.

His grandad's the projectionist.

Dad doesn't like him,
so don't say anything.

He'd only start creating.

Well, what the eye don't see...

But we'll need you to come
clean about last night.

Your father was paying
Flynn off, wasn't he?

For how long?

As long as I can remember.

Had anyone else been in,
trying to offer their services?

- I think you should go now.
- We can help you, Mr Gallo.

- Protect you from Nero.
- No, you can't.

Go now. Please.

Liam Flynn.

What's it to do with me?

They've kept quiet, Gallo and his
daughter. In case you were wondering.

That's how your protection
racket works, isn't it?

People too afraid to speak out.

If anything happens to them, we'll come
after you with everything we've got.

I'm quaking.

It's not us you've got to
worry about though, is it?

Two of your properties burnt out.

Now one of your arm-breakers
draws the short straw.

I'd say someone's trying to turn you over.

I'd like to see 'em try.

Who wouldn't?

- The eyes were more deep
set, I think. - Mm-hm?

- But, apart from that...
- How about this?

Better, yeah. Yeah, that's better.

Miss Thursday's just
given us a description

of the type that did the
windows in at the Advice Centre.

Right.

Well, when you're done,
if you've got a minute.

OK.

- So...? - I just wanted
a word, that's all.

I haven't seen much of you lately.

You're all right, are you?

I think I'm out of a job,
but apart from that I'm OK.

- You've been working at this Advice Centre?
- A few days a week.

Can't be much money in that.

There isn't, but I like it.

You might look in.

I know you've seen Carol, but your Uncle Charlie
and your Aunt Paulette'd like to see you.

No need to worry about
running into me, I'm at work.

It's not like that.

- Isn't it?
- No.

I'm just finding my feet is all.

- Charity work?
- Just helping people.

Same as you.

Oh. Sorry, sir. I can come back.

No, Jim, it's all right.
I was just on my way.

If you've a minute, sir, Mr Bright would
like a word about the Flynn stabbing.

Right.

Well.

You know where to find
me if you need anything.

Mind how you go.

- Oh!
- Hello.

Hello.

- How are things?
- Oh, you know.

Same as ever.

You met Uncle Charlie, then.

What did you make of him?

Carol's nice though.

- Did you see her?
- Yes.

I haven't seen her for ages.

I was supposed to see her on
Tuesday, but something came up.

How's she looking now?

Oh, I'm just the driver.

No time to socialise,
just quick hello, goodbye.

Yeah.

I remember those.

Give her my love if you run
into her before she goes back.

Don't expect I'll have
time to see her now.

Really? You're busy?

Yeah. Yeah. You?

Always.

- Well, I won't keep you from it. - OK.

Bye.

That bit of business.
I'm bringing it forward.

After hours.

- Is that wise?
- Wise?

I've got the filth all over
me with Flynn's stabbing.

- I want it over.
- But...

I'm not asking, I'm telling.

- When?
- Tonight.

Hello. Can you connect me to the
Peninsular and Oriental head office, please?

So, what couldn't wait?

- The autograph book doesn't belong
to Leslie Garnier, sir. - How's that?

Well, take a look at the autographs.

The only one with a dedication to
Garnier is the last one, from Valdemar.

That's a pretty big conclusion
to draw from not much.

There's something else.
You said it yourself.

Laurel and Hardy were in England in 1953.

At that time, Garnier was aboard a
cruise ship, The Happy Wanderer.

I've spoken to P&O, and on the
night of the 10th of February,

it was anchored off Sydney.

So... whose autograph book was it?

It's not Garnier's.

I think with all of this
Egyptiana: the scarab,

the fact that Beavis died after
watching The Pharaoh's Curse,

I think somehow it's tied into Valdemar.

Valdemar?

Beavis steals the scarab
from the Pitt-Rivers Museum

and meets whoever hired him
to hand it over at the cinema.

Only, I don't think the
killer had any intention

of leaving Beavis alive to expose him.

So he spikes his carton of orange juice.

How does he manage that?

The cartons are all sealed, aren't they?

If he's buying them off the usherette,
all the cartons would have to be poisoned.

- Else she's in on it.
- Here, try one.

Go on. It's perfectly
safe. Oh, sorry. Take this.

I just killed you.

It's not in the juice.

The poison was in the straw.

Garnier said Beavis was waiting
for someone in the private lounge.

None of the staff remember
selling him a Whakahari.

So how's he come by it, then?

Once the film was started,
all eyes are on the screen.

So whoever's buying the scarab can
slip into the cinema in the dark,

take the seat next to Beavis,
hand him a carton of squash

and a straw laced with strychnine.

Member of staff, then. If they've
access to the refreshment stall.

See, we were never meant
to look into Beavis's death.

A nobody, without a friend in the world,

who died supposedly of
natural causes at home.

I think it's about Valdemar. He's
the original intended victim.

- How do you mean?
- Garnier was never meant to die,

but once we came around asking questions
about Beavis, I think he took it upon himself

to make his own inquiries
before naming names.

You think he confronted the killer?

I think he saw an opportunity
to make some money.

To stop playing for peanuts
in some flea-pit cinema.

Garnier saw Beavis hand over the scarab.

I thought he didn't see
who was with Beavis.

He saw enough to know who it was.

What could he have seen from
up there? An arm? A sleeve?

Don't you think there's something
odd about this autograph book?

Look, all of the signatures are
written across the narrow of the page

rather than its length.
And all crammed in.

All of them. On the same side of the book.

So?

Who holds a bloody book like that?

Someone who has to.

A man with only one hand.

And that's what Garnier
saw from the rooftop.

- The commissionaire?
- Well, he'd worked the variety circuit.

Opened the door for all the greats.

It's just another autograph book
stuck under the nose of a star

who doesn't even see who
he's signing for anymore.

So, what, Gordon adds
Akhenaten's cartouche

and slips the book into Garnier's
pocket before the performance?

Maybe he asked Garnier to mind it for him.

Or he did it when he swapped
the Martini with a twist

for the Martini with an olive.

There you go. Not a word to Mr De Vere.

I can keep a secret, Edmund.

So long as the price is right.

Why though? Where's the motive?

What possible link could there be between
a Hollywood star and a one-armed doorman?

Actually, there is a connection.

It's the same thing they
have in common with you, sir.

Of course.

What?

Hello?

You don't remember me, Mr Valdemar.

I'm afraid I don't.

- Should I?
- No.

I suppose not, after 50 years.

- But I remember you.
- What?

Second Lieutenant Roberts.

Private Gordon, sir.

Worcestershire Pals.

Good Lord.

Coming back to you now, sir?

- Nablus.
- That's right, sir.

The advance to the Wadi al-Fara road.

You ordered our section to charge
an Ottoman machine gun emplacement.

That was the order that
came down the line.

No, sir.

The order that came down
the line was to stand fast.

I found that out later.

The battle was already won.

But young Second Lieutenant Roberts
hadn't got himself a medal.

And that wouldn't do.

Mowed down.

Our whole section.

My brother Ernie among them.

Cost him his life.

I was lucky.

Just an arm, and the hope of a life.

A normal man's life, leastways.

But we took that machine gun.

And you got your medal.

Course, by the time I was
discharged from hospital,

the Armistice had been signed

and nobody was much interested
in how a dozen men died

when the world was mourning 17 million.

I was 19.

Oh, I remember, sir.

Scarce old enough to shave.

But old enough to lie.

It was your report of the action
that stood in the Regimental Record.

Made the papers, too.

How the brave, young Second
Lieutenant won through.

No, no, no, no. No, that
wasn't me. That was the papers.

The country needed heroes.

Come on.

I tried to forget it.

That's the thing.

To put it all behind me.

And the only place, funnily enough,
that I could put it out of my mind

was at the pictures.

And then one day, there you were,

up on the screen, large as life.

Larger.

Only, you weren't Second
Lieutenant Roberts any more,

you were Emil Valdemar,

star of The Pharaoh's Curse.

- Smoke...
- That'll be Mr De Vere, sir.

He's setting a fire to burn the
place down so the owners'll sell.

It doesn't much matter now.

- What do you want?
- Justice.

For the boys.

After 50 years, an end
to it for you and me.

We should have gone with them.

Only, we didn't.

I can put that right now.

There's a piece of white cloth
by the organ there, sir,

and a safety pin.

What?

You remember what
happened to cowards, sir.

Shot... at... dawn.

- You pin it over your heart.
- I'll do no such thing.

With or without, it's all the same to me.

Gordon! What the hell's going on?

Argh!

Morse! Morse!

- He's coming. He's coming!
- Follow me.

- Gordon.
- Stay back!

Don't.

Gordon! Come back! No!

Come on.

Thanks very much, matey.

No survivors, according to the fire boys.

With De Vere gone,

we've no way to prove who put
him up to setting the fire.

No way to prove it maybe, sir.

But Eddie Nero's very
close with the owner's son.

He was for selling the place, wasn't he?

I suppose there's nothing to
stop it being developed now.

- We'll get Nero, sir,
sooner or later. - Will we?

Division's eye turned upon
Thames Valley? This race business?

Now one of Nero's racketeers
stabbed to death in the street?

It bodes ill, Thursday.

We're still on the job, sir.

I fear this time it might not be enough.

"Except the Lord keep the city,
the Watchman waketh but in vain."

- Listen...
- No, no. On your way now.

Don't want to hit the rush hour.

You're the best of us, Fred.

The best of us never came home.

- Bye!
- Bye-bye.

Take care. See you soon. Bye.

- Well, that's that, then.
- Yeah.

That's that.

You do not need it for evidence?

There's no case to take to court, Doctor.

It's back where it belongs.

The man who did these things,

in the final judgement...

.. did his heart speak
against him, do you think?

Gordon? Who knows?

I'm not one for all that.

And the afterlife?

Lies beyond our jurisdiction.

The detective and the archaeologist.

Perhaps we're not so
very different after all.

- How's that?
- We both speak for those who cannot.

You with your fingerprints, and
me with my fragments of pottery.

We are, each of us, I
think, keepers of the dead.

How does someone start a
policeman and end up a thief?

Beavis, you mean?

Well, you know as well as I do,
that given the right circumstances,

anybody's capable of anything.

Plus, he had no family to
keep him on the straight.

Lot to be said for family.

And what if you don't have any?

Do you think that's how
you end up your days?

Alone in some two-bob kip,
nothing but a bottle for company?

That's his future, not yours.
You'll make better choices.

Oh, Carol said to say,
er, cheerio, by the way.

- They've gone back, then?
- Yeah.

Yeah, they've gone back.

- Good of you to show her around.
- Don't mention it.