Original subtitles

♪ Mix me a person ♪

♪ Make her of sunshine and roses ♪

♪ Sweet as a flower ♪

♪ Warm as the sun ♪

♪ Mix me a person ♪

♪ Mix me a loved one ♪

♪ Make her the end of the rainbow ♪

♪ Finer than gold ♪

♪ Second to none ♪

♪ Mix me a person ♪

♪ Just like an angel ♪

♪ She'll watch over me ♪

♪ Forgiving me All the things I've done ♪

♪ Mix me a person ♪

♪ Someone I really can count on ♪

♪ Tell her of me ♪

♪ Say I'm the one ♪

♪ Mix me a person ♪

♪Just like an angel ♪

♪ She'll watch over me ♪

♪ Forgiving me All the things I've done ♪

♪ Mix me a person ♪

♪ Someone I really can count on ♪

♪ Tell her of me ♪

♪ Say I'm the one ♪

♪ Mix me a person ♪

Who is it?

Mr Bellamy for Dr Dyson.

Oh, come in, please.

Good morning, Mr Bellamy.

The doctor won't keep you long. Would you like to wait in here, please?

Thank you, Doctor. Isabelle, you must control yourself.

The doctor will see you now, Mr Bellamy.

You really must control yourself.

Which was the patient in that double act?

The teenager.

The mother looked round the bend.

Yes, Philip. Hence the daughter.

The sins of the mother shall be visited upon the daughters,

even unto the nth generation.

No, I don't love you. You've ignored me for days.

I'm snowed under with briefs.

Clients having to put their names down at birth.

I had a case in Manchester, an appearance at Gloucester Assizes,

and the last two days at the Old Bailey.

Oh, darling. You look a bit round the bend yourself.

I am. A proper case for you.

Come and cure me.

You're putting on weight.

How did it all go?

Two wins, and a tie in my favour.

Oh. Well, why the gloom?

I'm not gloomy now.

Yes, you are. It's the Jukes case, isn't it?

Ah…

He's a revolting little gangster.

Oh, well, that's hardly the attitude.

I've mulled his statement to the police over and over,

trying to make some sense of it.

It reads like a crazy lot of Mickey Spillane's.

If you don't believe the boy, darling, why take his case?

It's a legal-aid case.

The boy has been granted a free defence.

His solicitors have briefed me.

And no counsel can refuse a murder case.

-It's not etiquette. -Oh, etiquette! If you've no sympathy--

Oh, my emotions don't come into it.

As Dr Johnson said,

"What a counsel owes to his client is his advocacy, not his judgment."

If you've made up your mind the boy's guilty--

I haven't made up my mind!

It's my job to convince the jury that he's innocent.

But a boy of that kind?

With a car he admits he stole,

with a gun in his hand as good as still smoking,

and a policeman lying dead on the verge beside him.

Darling, I read the press reports.

Well, explain that away to the jury.

With all the… With all the headlines.

"Another Teddy Boy outrage."

"Policeman murdered in cold blood."

Policeman!

The public can't wait to see the boy hanged.

Get me a permit to visit him.

Well, you can. Which prison?

Oh, no. No, no. The boy is completely normal.

The Crown psychiatrist has had a field day on him.

I know I can't barge in professionally, but I'd just like to talk to him.

-What for? What about? -Well, obviously I'm interested.

Case history if nothing else.

Now, look, it was your idea

we should keep our professional chores to ourselves

so that our love life should be untrammelled.

All fun and games.

I gave in with a good grace.

Good grace? There was a grandfather of a row.

Rubbish. It was the merest discussion.

You sold me the idea. I accepted it. And we'll stick to it.

To the couch, woman.

Philip, a boy's life is at stake.

Now, I may get absolutely nowhere,

but it's irresponsible of you to reject me.

Now, go home. Go away.

I would rather like your opinion of the little basket.

Out, Jukes. Private visitor.

What, for me? Who are you kidding?

Come on, out I say.

Odds on it ain't me mum.

Too true it isn't.

Hold it.

Go on, Jukes.

Okay.

Hold it.

-If you'd like to sit here, miss. -Trying a bit of skirt now, are they?

Quiet, Jukes.

You'll find a bell under here, miss. Just ring if he gives you any trouble.

And the same when you want to get… When you've had enough of him.

-Thank you, Mr Mills. -Sit there.

My name's Dyson, Anne Dyson.

I'm here to help you, I hope.

No comment.

I can only help you if you'll help me.

All right, so I'm the bloke that shot the law.

What do you want to make of it?

Did you, Harry?

That's their story and they're sticking to it, ain't they?

I'm told you're sticking to yours.

What is it?

Why don't you read it? It's all in the files.

I've told it till I'm sick of it I have.

How old are you?

Old enough to swing. Or fight for me country.

Over 18, then.

Well, I look it, don't I?

Oh, a grown man, responsible.

I've got to be, ain't I? Nobody else, is there?

Where do you come into all this?

In your case? I don't.

I'm just a friend of your counsel.

What, Bellamy? Wouldn't have thought he'd have that much taste myself.

As it happens, I'm a doctor.

Oh. I'm in the picture now.

You're another one of those trick cyclists, are you?

I've had a gutful of them. They're barmy, the lot of them.

What do you know about psychiatrists?

I've seen them on TV, ain't I? People telling their hard-luck story

and they get them off what's coming to 'em.

Well, I don't need no getting off cos I done nothing to be got off of.

Oh? You stole a car.

I bloody didn't. I only borrowed it, didn't I?

I'm sorry I blew my top, miss.

You wouldn't be yourself if you was in here, now, would you?

They did fix you up with my papers, then.

As you won't talk, I'll have to look at them, won't I?

You work in a garage?

Yeah. Just passing time till I get a job in a group, that's all.

Play the old guitar. Play it good, don't I?

You're not interested in car engines?

Yeah, I like cars all right.

Now, that old Bentley Continental I borrowed, now, there was a…

-Yes? -Oh, forget it.

-You live at home? -Yeah.

-Don't hit it off with your dad, huh? -He's dead, ain't he?

-Oh, I'm sorry. -War hero, wasn't he?

You must be proud of him.

Meaning pity I'm not like him, I suppose.

You spend much time at home?

Sleep there, that's about all.

And they feed you?

No, I mostly eat up at the caff.

Mum's too busy fussing over that…

Oh, you've got a stepfather?

Sort of. He lodges with us and all that, you know.

Him and me don't hit it off, do we?

What's the caff?

Yeah, it's the Paloma coffee bar over in Battersea.

All our gang uses it.

Yeah. Fair old place it is, in a way.

I live there, don't I? Or did.

-Gang? -Ah.

Not a real gang, mind.

Nothing like these leather-jacketed Brooklyn boys.

No, what you might call a sort of a clique, really, I suppose.

Are you a big crowd?

No, not a lot. About four or five of us are real mates.

The rest we don't go for much.

There's Socko. He really knows his way around.

Can take care of himself he can. Good with his mitts, you know.

Then there's old Dirty Neck.

He's dead slack.

He's always sitting on his bottle and glass,

tapping you for money or smokes.

Still, he's always good for a laugh.

That's something, innit?

Then there's Gravy.

He's not much of a mate, really. Real bighead.

Thinks he's out of this world half the time, he does.

-No girls? -Oh, do us a favour.

Best little childs in the district, ain't they?

Well, I suppose they're a bit rough, really, but…

Well, Jenny's not. She's a more decent type.

She works at the cafe.

Oh, can she cook. She's great.

And there's Mona, of course.

Oh. Your girl?

Well, not really.

They're all after her,

especially that Gravy bloke I was telling you about.

He's always messing around her.

She's a flash little bit.

But a real darling. She's got a lovely pair legs on her.

And I reckon she does fancy me a bit. Well, sometimes she does.

I suppose the whole thing started on account of her, really.

I mean, there I was, bashing the old guitar for all I'm worth.

Which ain't much now, is it?

♪ I'm gonna tell you about La Bamba ♪

♪ I'm going to tell you about a dance That you should know ♪

♪ And the name is La Bamba ♪

♪ I wanna tell you how to dance now ♪

♪ I want you all to take a jump ♪

♪ Get up and go ♪

♪ And do the dance from Mexico ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ La Bamba ♪

♪ If you enjoy a lot of twisting ♪

♪ Come on and join the cast With hot feet down below ♪

♪ You don't know what you're missing ♪

♪ I'm gonna tell you one more time now ♪

♪ Be like a blue streak in the sky ♪

♪ Get up and go ♪

♪ And do the dance from Mexico ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ La Bamba ♪

Arriba!

♪ Hey, look at all the cats a-hopping ♪

♪ And look at all the chicks in tow ♪

♪ Well, they ain't slow ♪

♪ And they don't look like stopping ♪

♪ Will everybody do La Bamba ♪

♪ And everybody give the blues A knockout blow ♪

♪ I say olé for Mexico ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ Bamba, Bamba ♪

♪ La Bamba ♪

Hey!

That was great!

Get yourself a cola.

-Hello, Mo. -Hello, love. All right?

Come on, get up.

Do me a favour.

Hello, Mo.

-Here you are, Mona. -For me?

Oh, it's nice, Harry. Ever so contemporary.

Hey, where's that Gravy?

-Who cares? -I want him to see this, that's all.

I give him the brush Tuesday.

A coke and a Russian cigarette and he thinks he owns me.

Hey, Gravy. Come over here.

Coming for a spin, Mona?

Oh, hark at old Motorcycle Michael.

You can keep your old machine.

You look what Harry's just given me.

Cor, it must have cost him every penny of half a dollar at Woolworths.

If I was you, Harry boy, I'd watch the spending, you know.

A fella like you, you've got to watch your ha'pennies.

Me, now, I got rid of me motorbike. I bought me an old MG sports.

What with? Shirt buttons?

Nah, ten bob down and a tenner a week for 90 years.

-You bought a car? -Yeah.

You'll have to watch your figure with all that cream.

You'll have to watch yourself in his clapped-out plate as well.

Don't you realise?

I can get you any car you want.

Lady Muck you'll be tonight, Mo. Harry's dropping you home in his Rolls.

Oh, I'm a bit off Rollses since my gran's funeral.

No. Easy, huh?

Take your pick. Harry's not fussy.

That's right. Go on. I'm easy.

Any car you fancy, I'll have it round in a couple of shakes.

Oh, Harry. What, take my pick?

Right, Harry. That's the one.

Cor. Only a Bentley Continental.

Yeah, I was in a right fix, then, I can tell ya.

I mean Bentley Continentals don't grow on trees, do they?

Hey, you never said anything about a tape recorder.

You should have warned me. What's the idea?

-You trying to catch me out? -Oh, nonsense.

You don't sign it.

-It's just for my personal use. -Mm.

Can I hear it back?

Harry, you're vain.

No, it's not that. I'm just curious, ain't I?

Oh, go on, then.

And along came a Bentley Continental.

Yeah, not like that it didn't.

I tramped about the posh part of our district for damn nearly an hour.

I'm just about to give up, ain't I,

when, stone me, the very job I'm looking for turns into this mews.

It stops outside a lock-up and a bloke jumps out

and starts doing something to the rear of the car.

Well, just then a top window opens and a woman throws a key out to him.

So he picks it up and goes inside.

Well, quick as a flash I'm in the driver's seat.

And there, sure enough, he's left the ignition key.

Now, I let off the brakes and coast down the slope of the mews.

Now I start her up and shoot away.

Vroom! What a car.

Fabulous it was.

Now my only worry was whether the gang had left the caff or not.

Look, he's done it.

-What are you doing there? -Dead easy.

-Where did you get this? -Come on, lads.

-Hello, Mo. -Would you believe it?

Milady…

Unhand her, peasant dog.

Come up in the world, Mona!

-Gonna up your prices now, ain't ya? -Talk about class.

I'll put her on the phone, Harry.

She's got class, all right.

Right up to the top.

Count me out. Who told you I was coming with you?

You get fresh enough on top of a bus, let alone in a bridal suite on wheels.

Anyway, there's Gravy waiting to take me home for a start.

I know where I stand with him.

I'm a decent girl I am.

Well, I'll see you at home, Jen.

See you, Mona.

Come on, lads. Gravy's going.

-Is he? Come on, quick. -Oh, hang on.

Let's jump on.

Drive me home, Harry. Same address.

Yeah. Different slave.

Oh, come on. Let's have a burn-up and race the MG.

Oh, do me a favour.

Gravy won't be in no hurry.

Not with Mona snuggled up alongside him he won't.

Ah, who cares?

Come on, Jen. You're worth twice what that powdered-up ratbag is.

I'll take you.

No, Harry.

What's the point if you don't mean it?

I do mean it. You get special treatment from me.

You know that, Jen.

Now, you take the jalopy straight back where you got it from.

You tell me where it was, then, eh?

Don't worry, I'll ditch it somewhere, won't I?

-Good night, Jen. -Night, Harry.

Bash!

I've hit the side of the road, ain't I?

There's a tyre gone.

You're stuck with changing a wheel.

And I can't find no tools.

Then the policeman, Constable Jarrold, comes riding up on his bike.

There I am, searching away in the boot of the car for the tools,

when up he comes.

-Trouble? -Oh, no, no.

Nothing a brace and jack won't cure.

-Your car? -Ha! Use your nut.

I couldn't afford your pushbike, let alone this crate.

What are you doing with it, then?

Just taking it back from a works check, ain't I?

Hold my bike.

The nut back at the garage must have forgotten to pack the gear.

That's why I got no tools.

-Isn't that a car over there in the trees? -Yeah.

Well, we'll go over and see if they can help.

Uh, sorry. I don't want to break up the party and all that, but…

-Haven't you any decency, boy? -Oh, look, mate, I said I'm sorry.

-I could use your brace and jack. -Couldn't you stop another car?

Well, you got a blasted nerve,

seeing as it was your crummy driving that caused my blowout.

-What are you talking about? -Sam. Sam, the police.

He's with me. It was him who told me to ask you for help as it happens.

Let's go, Sam. We don't want any nosey-parkering.

-If Ronald should hear about us. -Now, take it easy.

What about Millicent?

I'd like to give you a hand, old chap,

but my small jack would hardly lift that ten ton of yours, now, would it?

Oh, well, good night.

Don't get cold.

People have no decency these days.

Caught 'em out at a bit of no good, eh?

Aye, not half, mate. I mean officer.

Bunk-ups at their age.

Dirty dogs.

-We'll stop something bigger. -Oh, don't you wait, officer.

-I'll manage on me own somehow. -I'll see you right, son.

He wasn't a bad bloke at all that copper.

Well, he gives me a smoke and we stand around chatting to each other.

It's funny, turns out we're both a couple of jazz addicts.

Incredible, innit?

You'd think they'd have chucked him out of the force.

I wonder what made him join, good bloke like that.

Well, and we see these lights.

Along comes a van.

So, the law nips out in front of it, waving his torch about, trying to stop it.

I comes up behind.

The van starts to pull up a bit sharpish with the brakes screaming.

I can't see the driver because of the lights.

But there's a bloke beside him, yelling at his mate not to stop.

He does stop, though,

with the bloke that's been doing all the hollering just above us.

When…

Christ. Christ!

Walking for pleasure?

Jack!

You don't believe me no more than the rest, do you?

Sob stuff won't help you.

I haven't had a good cry since it happened.

Well, you have now, and that's enough.

Look, Harry, will you go on helping me?

Can't do no harm, I suppose.

Where did you get the gun?

Like I said, from the bloke that shot the law.

Straight up.

You never had a gun of your own?

-I used to, some time back. -Was it licensed?

I'll give you three guesses.

Why did you have the gun?

For laughs, you know.

I mean, quite a few of the boys carried them.

-Where is it now? -I don't know.

Oh, rubbish.

No, honest, I don't.

I swapped it for an old Elvis Presley LP.

That one with a picture on the sleeve of him in a red open-necked shirt.

I forget who with now.

You must remember.

I don't. I lost interest in the gun.

It was kids' stuff.

I'll be back.

And I want you to tell me your story all over again.

-All of it? -Yes, please.

All right, Jukes.

I haven't heard that thing back yet.

Oh, sorry, Harry. Not this time.

Oh, well. Thanks, doctor.

-Bye. -Bye.

Horrible little scum.

How we come to breed 'em like that.

But we do. They don't breed themselves.

Copper lying dead there on the verge.

Nearly sick I am. So I starts to run.

And I run and I run, and then suddenly I feel I've got to go back,

which I do, don't I?

Just then the squad car comes up.

They grab me, rough me up a bit and sling me in the car.

I'm for it, ain't I?

He didn't cry at the end of that one.

I might have known you'd make some narking comment.

This was the second telling.

I'm sorry.

All right. His two accounts are amazingly similar.

I made him repeat some parts more than twice.

Except for differences in wording and details he added as he remembered,

they all tell the same basic story

and they give a very different impression from his statement taken by the police.

That's only natural.

Well, I got nobody, nobody to confirm one single detail

of what he said happened in the road before the police car arrived.

And tomorrow we're in court.

Oh, darling, if you just run the tape.

Who have I got to put in the witness box?

One, the Teddy Boys and the trollops who heard Jukes boast in the Paloma.

All they'll reveal is the ghastly bunch of beats and dead beats

he goes around with.

Oh, you and your prejudices.

It's a normal cross-section these days.

Then heaven help this unhappy land.

Two, his employer as evidence of character.

His personal opinion of Jukes is that, as a mechanic,

he must have been a brilliant guitarist.

Three, his mum.

What's the hate you've got against her?

That she's a miserable bitch.

The slave of some godforsaken layabout who she keeps

and who loathes her son's guts.

His father was a fine soldier.

Oh, who told you so? Harry?

-He was killed in the war. -And do you know how?

He was caught by the Red Caps in an out-of-bounds district in Cairo.

He tried to fight his way out and collected a bullet as he ran for it.

-Poor Harry. -Poor Harry!

Shows you what a damn good liar he is.

His mum must have kept it from him.

She didn't keep it from me. She told me with gusto.

All she'll prove in the box, like as not, is a hostile witness.

Well, anyway, you've got one asset. You've got Harry himself.

I've got Harry. He's my only hope.

-And his. -Oh.

If he can only keep his head and stand up at a cross-examination.

I know he'll tell the tale all right.

Look how he put it across to Constable Jarrold, off the cuff.

I'll make the jury seethe with indignation against the vile persons unknown

who haven't the guts to come forward and confirm our noble lad's story.

-Oh, don't be flippant. -I'm flippant because I'm so serious!

-What about the owner of the Bentley? -What about him?

He's perfectly respectable. He's a big fruit importer.

Nobody is denying his car was stolen.

Yes, but what sort of man is he?

I mean, couldn't you make something out of

his leaving the car like that with a key in it?

I'll lambast him for negligence, putting temptation in a poor boy's way.

And darling, darling, do run through the tapes again tonight.

I mean, you might find some discrepancy from the police statement.

After all, it was a policeman who was killed.

And they could very well have coloured it to suit their case.

Of course, the police hope for a watertight case. It's their duty.

It's their duty to bring to book a man who has shot one of their own numbers.

They are our protectors and, above all, they themselves must be protected.

-I know, of course, but-- -No buts, darling. No, no.

You go home. I'll get on to the tapes.

Otherwise I might get other ideas.

Good night.

I know I've been no help. There's been so little time.

At least my talks with Harry have done one thing.

I'm convinced he's telling the truth.

Good night, darling.

Paper!

Thank you.

Read all about it. Paper!

Here they are.

You're friends of Harry Jukes, aren't you?

-What if we are? -Well, what about it, then?

Yes, I'm his girlfriend.

Can we have a few words? We're from the press.

Yes, certainly. I'd be delighted.

-Mona, don't be stupid. -Leave me alone.

-Hello, Mrs Jukes. -Oh, isn't it awful?

Oh, come on.

Oh, I must speak to Mr Bellamy. I must.

-Well, what good will that do? -Oh, please.

Go on, wait over there.

Excuse me, Mr Bellamy.

Can't tell you how sorry I feel, being the owner of the car.

That pasting you gave me was fully deserved

and I bear no hard feelings.

That a bit of slackness on my part

should lead to that young hoodlum being for the high jump.

Excuse me, I'd better have a word with the mother.

What a good show he put up.

No wonder the judge complimented him.

Are you Mrs Bellamy?

I'm Dr Anne Dyson.

Yes. Didn't I see you on a television programme once?

Some debate about juvenile delinquency.

A deplorable type that Jukes boy, eh?

Type?

Nothing out of the way to you, I suppose.

Aren't we all types?

Aren't you rather a type yourself?

Oh, I say. Would I know?

Describe my type.

And it isn't types we hang, it's human beings.

Harry Jukes is an individual whose neck we've decided to break.

Oh, well, a life for a life, I suppose.

Mr Taplow, I have a car at the top of the street.

Police sergeant's giving time.

Why don't we have a proper talk?

Call me up, Max Taplow.

My home number, not the warehouse.

Receipt.

I'm Mr Johnson. This is Mr Lumley.

So long, boy. Be good. Never say die.

-Home and away! -Home and away.

New reception, fall in.

Right turn. Lead on.

Right, fall in between us.

Let's take those things off, then.

Harry Jukes.

-Behind the screen and strip. -This way.

Goods and chattels.

Shame.

He's only a kid, isn't he?

Open your mouth.

All right. Put this on.

Go to the end wall.

You appear to have a pretty good bill of health, Jukes.

Seems a waste, doesn't it?

Over here. On the scales.

Height, five foot seven.

Weight, nine stone two. Right, off.

Mole on the right shoulder.

Scar on the left hip, otherwise clean.

-All right. -We'll have a bath and get kitted out.

Thank you.

It's a fresh old place you got me in after that…

Oh, I'm with it now.

-It's the condemned cell, innit? -Oh, we just call it the CC.

You'll make your own bed, sweep the floor

and keep all clean and tidy.

The food's good, well cooked, and you can choose what you like.

We allow smoking.

Ten a day.

More if you're really pushed.

You can talk, receive letters and visitors.

Rise, 6:30.

Breakfast, 7:30.

Eight o'clock, exercise.

And the officers will help you pass the time.

The governor will be along to see you in the morning.

Good night to you.

You fellows in here all the time?

Couple of days you won't even notice us.

There are six of us in shifts.

Plenty of variety, see?

We're all good blokes.

You'll find out.

-Can I use the bog. -Help yourself, boy.

Only leave the door open.

Where's Mona?

Over there.

Why the undertaker's gear?

Wishful mourning.

Just in case they don't top Harry.

Beat it.

Well, you heard. Go on.

Hey, nit nit.

Climb off your tombstone. I'm taking you home.

What makes you think that?

I want some information off you first.

What did you do with that gun?

-What gun? -Oh, don't come that with me.

I saw you swap one with Harry last year.

You trot along to Scotland Yard with it right away.

What, and risk getting into trouble with the law?

You must be going out of your tiny mind.

Hi, Liz.

Hey, come on. Let's go back to your place.

Get that widow's gear off you, eh?

You're not getting nothing off me till you tell me about that gun.

Harry will be let off if the law find he's not carried a gun in months.

Nothing can help Harry.

Not after what he's done.

Well, you had your chance, girl.

Harry wasn't good in the witness box.

And it's my fault.

It's my fault for making you go over and over things so many times.

You handled him marvellously, but his answers were so mechanical.

Somehow the spontaneity, the sincerity had gone out of his story.

Let's forget it, shall we?

I can't. I never should have butted in.

But now…

Could I go and see the people who knew Harry?

Well, not officially.

No, of course not.

Can I see Harry again?

No doubt it can be arranged. If there's any point.

Any point? Well, I must see him again.

You'll be seeing him again, won't you?

I have no reason to.

I saw him today after he was sent down and gave what comfort I could.

You realise that he'll be in the condemned cell now?

Oh, God.

I never thought…

Philip, I simply don't accept the verdict.

You don't?

Given by the twelve good men and true, so what can you expect to do about it?

Conduct of the law is a professional matter.

As a professional yourself you should appreciate that.

How would you like it if you made a diagnosis of a patient

and some complete outsider butted in

and out of pure emotionalism said he didn't accept it?

Started lobbying the General Medical Council.

-There's still the appeal. -We better face up to it.

Short of a miracle, the appeal will be a mere formality.

Much chance of a miracle with your defeatist attitude.

I am not defeatist. I am defeated.

I see. You're worried about yourself, not about Harry.

That you've had a setback.

I haven't. I did well, but nobody likes losing a case.

Losing a case?

I don't suppose Harry will like losing his life.

I'm sorry. Sorry, darling.

You've done a great deal to relieve the distress of the many,

but you can't take upon yourself the sorrows of the world.

This poor, wretched boy has had every consideration in the courts.

A free defence, a fair trial, a punctilious judge.

But his fellow citizens have found him guilty

and that's the end of it.

I suppose you're right.

Hm. Forget it.

Go and mix yourself a drink.

I'll finish this up.

And, stone me, the very job I'm looking for turns into this mews.

It stops outside the lock-up and the bloke jumps out

and starts doing something to the rear of the car.

I'm just turning away from the mews when in floats the very bus I'm after.

A smallish fella gets out and he's messing about with the rear…

Philip.

Out of order.

Lady to see you.

Come right up. Catch.

That female was in the public gallery during the trial.

Very civil. I didn't expect you to take up my invitation.

You like it? It's all my own idea.

Why this passion for fruit?

Oh, no psychological significance.

The import and wholesale of fruit and veg happens to be my living.

At the moment I'm shifting entirely from fresh to deep-frozen.

That's the line. You don't take the risks…

You like the sea.

I like ships, especially these two fridge vessels.

I call them the start of the Taplow line.

-You own them? -No, they're on charter.

Maybe one day.

Well, come and take the weight off your feet.

Not that there's much of it.

Try the settee. It's softer than it looks.

Did you ever go to sea yourself?

No. I started life as a bricklayer's labourer.

Haven't done badly, have I?

No.

What would you like to drink?

Oh, it's too early.

Why bring the clock up?

-Mr Taplow. -The name is Max.

You've got to hand it to London's East End.

They turn out some pretty dynamic types.

I thought type was a dirty word with you.

Own up, Max. Poplar or Stepney?

All right, you win. Stepney.

How'd you guess?

I was born there too, and at the bottom.

Go on! A clever, well-educated girl like you.

And what a looker.

We certainly know how to build them in the East End.

You and I talk the same lingo.

Yes, I think we do.

I like our sort. I'm proud of Stepney.

Me too.

You know, our lives are poles apart, but we have a lot in common.

We're alive and we're human.

That's why I've come to you for help.

I'm in a torment about the boy.

Boy? Are you married, Anne?

No, Max. I mean Jukes.

What's he to you?

Only that I've had a lot to do with these deprived teenagers.

Privately, I've had Harry through the sieve,

and I'm convinced he's as innocent as you or I.

You amaze me.

You can call that filthy little gangster Harry

after the judge's summing-up and what the jury obviously thought of him.

We're always hiding behind judges and juries.

They're not infallible.

I'm out to correct a hideous mistake.

You're not tearing down our legal system?

Oh, come off it, Max.

Don't be pompous.

Look, I'm after practical help.

In the witness box

you said you left the Bentley outside when you got in from work.

-About seven o'clock. -Did I? As early as that.

And then when you went to put it in the lock-up, it was gone.

Correct.

Harry says he took the car between nine and ten

and that a bloke drove it into the mews just before he took it.

Me. Anyone's a bloke to him. But as to the time…

No, no, no, he can't mean you.

In one account he mentions a smallish fella.

How many accounts has he given?

Anyway, who cares what Jukes says?

Look at the rest of the poppycock he churned out.

Why pay any attention to this part?

He never denied taking the car.

Why should he lie about when or how?

He says the smallish fella got out

and started doing something to the back of the car.

Then a woman threw down a key from this flat,

just as you did just now to me.

Max, are you sure that after you came in and before Jukes took the car

that somebody else didn't use it?

Perhaps your chauffeur.

Chauffer? Don't run one.

A driver spoke to you outside the courts.

That was my transport foreman.

Well, did he use it? Or another employee.

Well, perhaps it was hijacked twice in the same evening.

That's a damn clever notion, Anne.

It's a hell of a long shot, but it could be.

It doesn't help us.

Even if the car was pinched twice,

Jukes had it at the place and time the copper was shot.

Yes.

Should have thought it out more before I came.

But it still doesn't explain the smallish fella.

If Jukes invented him, he doesn't have to be explained.

I'm sorry. I've wasted your time.

Oh, don't go. When can we have a proper get-together?

I'll run you back to the West End.

Please don't bother. I'm not going home.

Well, anywhere you say. It would be a pleasure.

-Are you sure? -Mm-hm.

Then take me to the Paloma cafe.

Teds' dive?

What do you want to go there for?

It isn't far.

Well, look, I'm easy. You can do what you like.

We're supposed to be waiting up here for Gravy.

You can wait all day for Gravy.

-Let's go back and watch-- -Here, that's my bus Harry brought me.

Gah. Different number plate.

Same owner. What's he after here?

Remind us of him and all that jazz.

Thanks, Max.

Want something?

Well, I'd like to come by.

Here. Are you that bloke's wife?

Private floozy you mean.

Because we hate the sight of him.

And that goes for the talent he knocks about with.

Stop. I have a message from Harry Jukes.

-Okay. Hold it, boys. -I'm Mona. Let's have it.

It's not for you.

It's for Jenny.

Then go on ruddy wanting. Take yourself off, fancy pants an' all.

-Yeah. -All right, beat it, scum.

Here, watch it, mate.

Clear off to the other side of the river where you belong.

You fat berk.

-Thanks, Max. I can cope. -Okay.

Get out of here, toffee-nosed nit.

Jenny?

It is Jenny, isn't it?

-Yes, miss. -I've come about Harry.

Oh, well, how is he, then?

Well, I haven't actually seen him since he was convicted.

But I think what he'd really like is a visit from you.

-Well, can I go, then? -Yes.

Max, please. I asked you to go.

Okay.

Here, how dare you push me around?

Get out of here. This is our place, decent.

And we don't want any fancy berks in round-toed shoes slobbering about.

Drop it, Mona.

You're the cause the bloke I was lumbering got sent down.

Criminal negligence Harry's law bloke said.

You don't care, do you?

Oh, looking up to the judge you was.

"Yes, me Lord. No, me Lord."

"String him up, me Lord."

You leery, lousy-looking apology for an overgrown Teddy Boy.

You bastard!

No!

Stop. Stop it!

Stop it!

Now will you go?

You want to start something too?

I've been the victim of assault.

What, again? Don't know what you're looking so peeved about.

Well, do something about it.

Don't just stand there like a lemon, you loop.

-You're all chicken, all this lot. -What's been going on, eh?

Oh, for Pete's sake, take her away and sort her out.

Well, that's all right by me, mate. Come on.

My name is Dyson. Shall we have some coffee?

And a few raw steaks.

Your boyfriend a professional heavyweight, then?

Nah, he's a sort of big-shot greengrocer.

You've seen his fridge vans around.

He's not my boyfriend and you did rather ask for it,

and do sit down.

Yeah, well, the point is, what about Harry?

Do you know him, then?

Yes. We've been meeting. What do you feel about Harry?

-He was our mate. -And you liked him?

Did do, but if he, you know, done what he done.

-And do you think he did? -Well, they proved it, didn't they?

Do you think he could have? I mean, do you think it was in him to do it?

Well, funny, I was surprised.

Could, um… Could any of you have done it?

I might, in the same spot.

No, mate, you wouldn't have had the energy.

I'll get some smokes.

-Here's the coffee. -Ah, good.

Thanks very much.

-Sugar? -No, thanks.

Supposing everybody is wrong

and there's the slightest chance

of finding new evidence to prove that they are,

would you help me?

-You bet we would. -Then you're in business.

Now, we start tomorrow.

Time's terribly short.

-Do you smoke? -Um. Yes. All right.

Uh, you know the man and the woman that Harry saw in the car, uh, necking?

-Smooching you mean. -Smooching.

-They never come forward. -Mm-hm.

I've got a wild idea

that they might sometime come back to their old haunt.

No, they'd never.

I don't know.

Birds crazy over fellas act funny.

So do fellas crazy over birds.

And the two together, it's a bloody scream.

What I want from all of you

is to go out there in turn and keep watch after dark,

not letting on to a soul.

Bit of a dirty old trick getting out there.

Yeah, still, we'll have a bash.

Yeah, we'll do it.

Oh, I could hug the lot of you.

-What's stopping you? -Oh, shut up.

Oh.

My address, in case you have any news.

Let's see. Here we are.

Ta. And if we haven't?

Well, come anyway in a few days. At least we'll have a drink.

-All right, miss. -Jenny, how much is that?

Oh, three bob, please, miss.

And, um, I'll let you know about seeing Harry.

Oh, thanks ever so, miss.

-Good luck. -Ta. Thanks. See you.

Bye.

-Bit of all right, eh? -Very nice.

Very nice indeed.

I thought he'd like her.

Hey, look, I think it would be better

if you two did sentry go at the smoochers' den.

Why, you dirty skiving git.

Sitting on your fat behind while we make with the hard graft.

What an unworthy thought.

It's just that I haven't finished with Mucky Max.

I don't like his technique.

I don't get where he fits in with this Dyson dame

and I'd like to get a fix on him.

Now, look, supposing I shift jobs to the greengrocer trade, eh?

Sign on a Taplow's? And where would that get us?

I know we're it'd get him.

In his ruddy element lazing around with the other cabbages.

Come on, let's finish our coffee.

Get your lunches quick and we'll get down to the eastern area.

Do you want me or will it keep?

I do, and it won't.

Dr Dyson has had to go out.

What's your trouble?

Mind if I snack while the going's good?

Tuck in yourself. I'll get some more beer.

Cut the amenities.

It's not trouble I have but information.

There's a new load in prospect.

We're going after it.

-We're not, you know. -I'm telling you, Taplow.

The organisation has put up good money from hard-won resources

to help you finance this plant.

And I'm playing my part. I'm making a success of it.

This is a first-class investment in itself.

Apart from its other uses.

I'm not denying that the more successful the business is, the better cover it is.

But we're not primarily concerned

with spreading the gospel of the deep freeze.

For the boys it's guns before broccoli and you're contracted in with us.

I'm contracted to smuggle arms, not to use them on British policemen.

Oh, to hell! We've had that out time after time.

That was a necessary precaution.

Come and put your head in the cold store. It'll do you good.

You mad Irish rebel. I've given this matter a lot of thought.

I don't give a damn what you think.

Moreover, I have this to tell you.

I hear there's every chance of our man at the depot being posted abroad.

-When? -Soon.

We're not moving until after the appeal.

And another thing.

Why are you chasing after this Dyson woman, sticking your neck out?

Don't be a fool.

She's in with Jukes' counsel. I can get information, dates.

We're acting on the next tip-off whether Jukes hangs or not.

He'll hang all right.

Nobody will lift a finger to help that poor little bastard.

-How did you get here? -Shh! Quiet.

You'll wake your old geezer up.

Jenny won't be back. She's kept late, gonna sleep at the caff.

-So what? -So, what a chance.

Listen, Mona. I thought it over.

I done like what you said.

Well, I don't want to know.

Oh, yes, you do. Mona.

You win.

Harry's?

It's all yours.

Oh, ta, Gravy. Ta lots.

Provided…

After, I mean. You know.

Now, listen, is it a deal or isn't it?

Come in.

Yes, Barbara?

There's some youngsters to see you.

They're not patients, though they might well have been.

Oh. Oh, well, have them come in.

Hello.

Cor.

Pardon us, uh, busting in on you at the hangover time,

but we got to start work, see.

-And clock in, see. Ding. -Come in, come in.

-Thanks very much. -You have an appointment at nine.

Yes. All right.

We couldn't come over last night.

We was late getting back from Operation Smoochers.

Any luck?

Not with the main caper, like.

Them couple didn't show up, but we found this in their hidey-hole.

-What is it? -A pocket book.

-Copper's notebook, miss, -Jarrold's.

Oh, the dead policeman.

Yeah. Well, that's very observant of you.

-I'll hand it over to the police. -Well, look inside.

Sorry. I'm afraid the rain's messed it up a bit.

-Well, it's eligible. -Legible, you fool.

All right. You can read it. There.

-Last entry. -Letters and figures.

-Car registration number, miss. -But what comes next?

Oh, Ben, L, something, Y.

-Bentley. -The last thing Jarrold wrote.

-The number of Taplow's car. -When Harry had it.

But not the number the police said in court.

What? Wait a minute.

You're right.

Well, when Harry drove it, it must have had false number plates.

-Sure. -But how?

You figure it. We got to go. We've had our lot.

-Come on, Socko. -Be seeing you, miss.

-Right. -Ta-da.

Oh, miss. Forgot.

Mona asked to come with us.

-Well, go on. -Oh, come on, Socko.

All right.

There. Look at that. You show that to them, then.

-To whom? -Scotland Yard, of course. Proof.

-Of what? -Harry's old gun.

He hasn't owned it for donkey's years.

He swapped it with Gravy for an Elvis record.

You know, the one with his face smiling at you and the shirt.

Oh.

Oh, I see.

Oh, well, Mona, that's very good of you to have brought it.

Um, have you had breakfast?

-Oh, not to speak of I ain't. -Would you like a cup of coffee?

Ta.

Isn't your hair lovely?

You know, I could never get mine to do that.

Look, do you mind my cup?

And I'm afraid it's not very hot.

-Ooh, that bit of toast going for free? -Sure.

Would you like butter and honey on it?

Ta.

Well, I'm sure Mr Bellamy will do his very best about the gun,

and with the appeal coming up tomorrow,

it's just in time,

but I wouldn't expect too much of it as evidence at this stage.

Come again.

You mean it ain't no good?

Well, we all know that isn't the gun that shot Jarrold.

And I'm afraid the prosecution will say the fact that Harry had it for years…

But I gave all I got for it.

-You paid for it? -You can say that again.

How much?

Come off it. Are you thick or something?

I swapped the gun for my vir…

That is, me I gave.

You slept with someone?

Well, you could put it like that.

Didn't get much sleep, though, I tell you.

How many boys have you been with?

I haven't never before.

I only had it there to keep Harry in the clear, like.

It was the first time?

But why did you have to? Who with?

With Gravy.

He had the gun. I couldn't get it from him else.

I don't know. I didn't reckon on it being marvellous,

but all in all we had a right old time of it.

Did you find it all that bad, Dr Dyson, or don't your sort of person do it?

Oh, we do.

With the man we love.

Weird part is, I think I love Gravy.

What's more, I think he's a bit sent on me himself.

He was ever so full of himself this morning, and kind of…

kind.

I'm so glad.

Excuse me.

-Yes, Barbara. -Shall I pick someone else?

No. No more appointments this morning. I've got to go out urgently.

-I'm terribly sorry. I have to go. -Oh, that's all right.

Thanks so much for telling me.

And, um, who knows?

Maybe he'll marry you in the end.

Won't be a bit surprised but what he has to.

-Who was that? -Dr Dyson.

Damn it, she can't do this. It's monstrous.

We're up to our eyes all day.

We're in court at 10:30.

I could have played on the gun at the trial

but it's irrelevant in the Court of Appeal.

But why? With other things it adds up.

-To what? -To prove that Harry's telling the truth.

-What other things? -This notebook of Jarrold's for one.

We have no proof the entry in the book is the number that was on Taplow's car.

He wrote Bentley against it. It was the last entry.

Harry said Jarrold took down his number.

Please.

Why are you so sold on everything your own client says being false?

Harry is no ordinary client.

-Sir, we're in court at 10:30. -Thank you, Charles.

Have you found out anything to prove one thing of what Jukes has said?

It was not Taplow who drove the Bentley into the mews just before Harry took it.

-Taplow said-- -He lied!

I know. I've seen it.

So you've been to see him and he confessed to perjury?

No, of course he didn't.

But it's clear he's concealing something.

Maybe not to do with this case,

but there's something wrong there that needs looking into.

Will you? Will you talk to Inspector Mallett?

It is not my function.

-Then may I go to the Yard? -And there are limits.

There are limits even to your riding roughshod over procedure.

The truth is that no one,

no one for prosecution or defence has ever believed

or even wanted to believe in the possibility of Harry's innocence.

Mr Bellamy, we have eight minutes.

Poor Harry.

We don't half miss you at the Paloma, Harry.

We're looking forward ever so to when you come out.

Yeah, so am I.

There's nothing much any different at the Paloma.

Oh, ever so funny.

Dirty Neck sat on the pin table,

the one with the left flipper broken,

and he went right through, breaking the glass.

The guvnor never found out who it was, though.

There's an whole lot of new records on the juke.

There's one lovely one. Trad it is, with a bugle.

It's called Last Post Rag.

Yeah. I use it as my signature tune.

You'd better say goodbye now, miss.

Well, I guess it's adios for now, Harry.

Ta-ra, Jen.

Anything special you want or something?

Yeah, well, they do say I could have the old guitar in here.

Ta-ra, then, Jen.

Take care.

Come along, miss.

Go on with the game, mate.

You was taking the shirts off us.

Do you mind if I skin you blokes later?

No, it's all right, son.

Excuse me.

Oh. The best relief, mates. Thanks.

Taplow says the job's too soon.

It's only Wednesday week.

The boy may not have hanged by then.

I've tipped you off three loads now to no purpose.

All this inaction is pitiful.

Taplow's gone soft since the shooting.

You tell your Mr bloody Taplow this.

There'll be just this one load before we're posted.

You put the skids on Taplow.

Here's the map you asked for.

Get your hoppers off.

What sort of an Irishman are you?

No sort. His head is screwed on.

Why would I be filling this place with Irish except on the night?

Now, our lorry crosses empty heathland here

and joins the forest road there, do you see?

Mm.

Last time we used the Bentley as a decoy

and the lads brought the lorry back here to the factory.

Yeah.

My vote is, this time we'll use one of our old open lorries as decoy

and tranship to a fridge van somewhere near the hold-up.

Why have you come, Max?

Why haven't you taken up my offer of help?

Oh, well, it wasn't very successful the first time.

Would you give me another, then help yourself.

You do drink, then?

Oh, by the end of the day I need it.

After bailing out your human cesspools.

I thought perhaps you'd come for a consultation.

Meaning I'm a cesspool myself?

Do you take on adults as well as kids?

I prefer the young.

They're more honest.

And they haven't had time to make the mess of their lives we have.

That you have?

Oh, yes. It's been a near thing many times.

Anne, you're so fine,

I could never believe you'd look down the wrong road

or even notice the turning.

If only I'd had the luck to meet a girl like you at the right time.

Only I don't suppose there is another.

It would have had to have been you yourself.

Might easily have been. As kids, we must have lived pretty near.

What is on your mind, Max?

Consultation free.

All right. Keep your psychiatrist's couch.

You've had enough of it for the day,

and I certainly don't want to be grilled.

I know all about myself.

I don't even own a subconscious.

I am just an ordinary guy who didn't do so badly in the war.

Got promotion from the ranks, ideas above my station.

Began to hit the nightlife, couldn't calm down and give it up.

And it hasn't led to a moment's real happiness.

Anne.

If you were kind to me, I could tell you something, which…

Philip, what happened?

The appeal? That's dismissed, of course.

-How long be… -Before they hang him?

Well, the rule on executions is rather odd.

Not before three Sundays after sentencing,

and not on the Monday or Tuesday following.

Very odd.

Of course, in this case, the appeal has rather cut across that

so I can't say exactly.

About ten days, I suppose.

I wish I'd never bought that damn car.

Does he come here often?

I think he knows something. I've got to find out what it is.

So he's a patient now, is he?

Oh, darling, don't be childish.

I have a feeling it concerns the case.

-I told you. -It's a bit late now, isn't it?

On what grounds did they dismiss the appeal?

What about the new evidence?

The gun and the notebook were not submitted.

Oh. Oh, it didn't suit the police.

Well, now who's being childish?

Then what did you say in court?

I rambled emotionally for an hour and ten minutes.

-And then? -The judges thanked me very kindly

and I sat down.

Well, the prosecuting counsel, what did he say?

He wasn't called on.

You mean your pleading wasn't even referred to?

It contained no fresh evidence. How could it?

If fresh evidence is admitted, then counsel is called on.

If it isn't and the court is satisfied

with the conduct of the case in the lower court,

what more is needed from the prosecution?

Philip, you must do something.

You must win time. I need time. You must get a stay of execution.

There is nothing more I can do. The case is finished.

Not until the boy is dead it isn't.

For me it is.

I'm only counsel, I'm not the Lord Chief Justice.

I'm not a detective. I'm not an agitator.

I can't sit down in Trafalgar Square about it.

I'm a member of an honourable profession,

subject to rules, to clear-cut procedure and to etiquette.

My function is to take instructions from solicitors,

to advise and to plead in court.

I have done all this and now I am out of it.

Lucky we've got this American trip.

We can go now and hope to take our minds off it.

Here's your air ticket.

You are not going while Harry is still alive.

Of course I am.

I can't expect them to postpone the convention until he's dead.

Besides, I'm billed to read a paper. I can't let them down.

On what that is so important?

On English common law.

Oh.

You've got fabulous material for it in this case.

Why I fell in love with you,

why I go on loving you I don't know.

You don't change, Philip.

You can't let the organiser of your precious convention down

but you can walk out on a client in the death cell.

That's what membership in an honourable profession means to you.

Well, I'm not walking out on Harry.

You'll go to America alone.

What is this boy to you? He's breaking up our whole relationship.

What's your obsession with him?

Nothing, evidently, that you can understand.

Anne, you…

You promised to come with me.

We'll only be away three or four days.

I've been looking forward to it as a sort of….

second honeymoon.

I've taken a lot from you.

Your independence mania, your morbid, out-of-date feminism,

this damn ridiculous living apart.

I've done it because I love you.

To lose you now would take all…

motive out of my life.

But now it's time for you to consider me.

Because if you don't,

we'll put an end to our marriage good and proper.

I'm not coming.

You must do what you think.

If it's any reassurance to you,

in 1948 our future Lord Chancellor said in parliament that in this country

there is no practical possibility of an innocent person being hanged.

I share that opinion.

Goodbye.

Have you any evidence of Harry acquiring the gun

used on Constable Jarrold?

Circumstantial evidence.

The bullet came from the gun. Jukes held the gun.

But you haven't found the gunsmith who actually sold it?

Well, naturally, we tried.

But had no luck.

He could have got it from a gunman as easily as a gunsmith.

But Harry says he did get it from a gunman.

Not to us.

Oh, yes. From the gunman who shot Jarrold.

Now, Dr Dyson.

You say he could have got it from a gunman.

Harry says he did. Then you say Harry was lying.

His was an imaginary gunman.

Inspector Wagstaffe's gunman was totally imaginary.

At least Harry gives some description of his gunman.

Look, I don't want to antagonise you.

I'm honestly trying to help.

Just as I'm sure that all of you here are honestly convinced of Harry's guilt.

Thank you.

Everyone knows you're scrupulously fair over murder inquiries,

but it's also been claimed that once a suspect becomes an accused,

the police are ruthless in their methods.

Not ruthless.

Thorough and comprehensive.

A case must be unassailable.

Watertight.

In achieving this, can it happen, in all innocence,

that there's a danger of factors not being appreciated or even ignored?

One can get too close to things.

Also, I've noticed it myself,

the statements of an accused as taken down by a police officer

are often very differently worded from his later replies in the box.

Many of them are illiterate or unable to express themselves.

We help them.

But is the help confined to that?

Meaning?

Well, there's no risk of your putting words in their mouths

that are convenient to your theories of the case?

-I find that objectionable. -I apologise.

You see, I've had several talks with Jukes,

and his accounts to me have been very different in tone

from his official statement to the police.

No doubt.

If I'd only read his statement,

I'd have shared your certainty of his guilt.

As it is, I'm deeply concerned for the police

as well as the boy you're hanging.

Well, come, now. We don't hang anybody.

It's widely believed that a miscarriage of justice is impossible in England.

Not without reason.

It would be tragic if this case killed that belief.

I've only one more query.

The number plates on Mr Taplow's car….

Don't tell us that the car carried different front and rear plates.

We know it.

Naturally, it was noticed when we took it to the police depot.

This never came up in court.

Well, why should it?

Mr Taplow had just been granted a special registration number.

A lot of well-known people get them.

Stars. Douglas Fairbanks, for instance.

Mr Taplow's driver had fitted one plate when he was called to his tea

and the car was stolen while he was having it.

This was kept from the defence to ensure a watertight case for you.

Our case was already watertight.

Thank you for your patience.

-Escort Dr Dyson to her car, will you? -Very good.

Salt of the earth.

We could do with her in the murder squad.

I was thinking on other lines.

So I noticed.

They were ever so kind at the place, miss.

It was awful not knowing what to say to him.

Oh, I've got his guitar here. They say he can have it.

I'll see he gets it tomorrow.

Is there no hope, then?

-Hello? -We've been chasing you for hours.

We've been round your manor.

The old girl there said you was here.

Guess what? News.

Last night, must have been. Evidence about them snoggers.

Got it here somewhere. Here, look.

Same brand of smokes and chocolate as the dirty old packs lying around.

And you know something? Yesterday was Tuesday.

-Excuse me. -Watch it, mate.

Harry caught his packet on a Tuesday.

It must be their regular night for going on the tiles.

Even the tyre marks was like the old ones.

Same snout, same kind of chocolate,

same tyre marks, same night of the week.

If you're right, we've a whole week to wait.

No, six days.

Time's running out, Nobby.

Yeah. We get the message.

It's our only hope.

Will you drive out with me on Tuesday evening?

That is, if Harry…

-Harry's still with us, like? -Yes.

Sure.

It's not likely we'd let a poor, weak woman go on her lonesome.

Look, I'm sorry about this, but it's vital.

You must tell me.

Were you here the night Police Constable Jarrold was shot?

I knew they'd find out. I knew they'd catch up with us.

-Quiet. Be quiet. -But we were here. We were!

Shut up!

Get out of it, will you?

Socko.

Stop! Go back!

Go back! Go back!

The man died around midday.

The woman's still unconscious.

Accidents aren't my pigeon.

We've put an officer at her bed in case she comes around.

Get a stay of execution for Jukes.

Perhaps you'll tell me on what possible grounds?

Come in.

The woman's conscious.

Can she speak?

She's suffering from shock still, but she's managed a statement.

Go ahead, tell her.

She claims that she and the man were making love

when they were molested by a woman and two youths.

The man lost his head, suspecting blackmail,

and, driving away too fast, caused the fatal skid.

She's lying, or her mind was affected by the crash.

She screamed three times,

"We were there. We were."

-You know, on the night-- -Did she mention Jukes?

She would have done if the man hadn't driven her away.

-Question the boys. -Would have done.

Yes, and would have proved another part of Harry's story he didn't invent.

You must be aware how irresponsible your intrusion was

on those two persons.

It has led to a fatal accident

and our people may wish to take it further.

You must hold yourself available.

Oh.

Well, I'll be home all evening.

You can pull me in any time.

I sympathise with your special concern in this case

that a murderer should be punished.

But won't it defeat your high purpose if you hang the wrong man?

Dr Dyson.

Here's the list you wanted.

It takes in every incident in which police became involved

on the night of Jarrold's murder.

Get the Special Branch.

Pity you did that, son.

You could have given me a lesson tomorrow.

I would have robbed you half a dollar for it, mate.

All men awake!

All men awake!

All right, get up.

Dr Dyson is here.

Of course I'm happy the smoochers showed up, ain't I?

If only to show you my story is all above board.

But I reckon it's tails down now.

Time to truce out. I'll be…

Dr Dyson…

Do you reckon it'll hurt very much?

Harry.

Let's go back just once more to the moment the gun went off.

Make a last effort to remember.

Is there a single detail, no matter how small,

that you haven't told me?

Try, Harry.

You're standing on the verge with Jarrold.

A van roars up in the darkness.

He goes into the road, waves his lamp, and the van pulls up sharp.

There's a man just above you

in the near front seat, shouting at the driver.

He's a shortish man.

With a wild look on his face.

Is there anything else you can remember about this man?

Did he say anything before he fired?

Did he call out or shout or…

Yeah. Yeah, he did.

Shouted what? What was it?

I don't know. I don't know.

I couldn't get it. It was foreign, like.

A war cry.

No, no, please, please. It's all right.

-Come on. Take it easy. -Harry.

-Take it easy. -Harry.

Harry. Keep hope.

Come on, come now.

Why did they have to take him away just then?

I was getting there at last.

Ask if I can see the governor.

It's very difficult, ma'am.

But try, please.

I'm sorry. That's not the sort of thing I can submit to the Home Office.

But it's a new detail.

It might be of vital importance.

To a story the rest of which has been discredited?

All of us here admire what you've been trying to do.

And I know what you must be feeling.

But don't take what Jukes told you too seriously.

Condemned men at his stage are under great mental stress

and, in all innocence, make statements which are fantasies.

When… is the execution?

Next Thursday. Please don't ask to see him again.

It's kinder not to upset him

Isn't it your aim to keep up morale?

Yes, it is, but not by false hopes.

Thank you very much.

Come in.

Can you inspect the drop now, sir?

Yes, all right. Come along.

Yes?

He's back.

Thank you, Brewster.

And, um, when he gets in from the airport,

would you tell him I'll be home all evening?

Thank you.

Yes, Barbara.

There's another of those teenagers asking to see you.

He keeps muttering about his dirty neck.

Ah. Let him in.

Do come in, please.

Dirty Neck. Come on in.

Hello.

I've just got back from the old Taplow warehouse, see.

Oh, how are you getting on there?

Oh, the pay is all right.

I can keep tracks on old Madman Max, the Bentley Baron.

Never mind that.

There's something chronic going on down there.

Thing is, I was a spot late clocking off, see.

Overtime, like.

And I sees this special night shift taking over.

They dug out one of their old-style trucks

and they started changing the number plates.

Mr Taplow must know about it.

He hasn't been around all day as far as I can see.

Thing is, you're up to your ears in Irish out there all of a sudden.

Talk about crazy goings-on.

They started painting out the Taplow name on one of the fridge vans.

Shh. Just a minute.

Hello. Is Mr Taplow in?

Thank you.

He's at the warehouse now.

That's funny, isn't it?

But when our transport foreman, he's a paddy an' all,

sees me hanging about the place, he screams at me to clear off out of it.

Proper went mad he did.

-You take me out there. We'll get a taxi. -Okay.

Look, I'd better keep out of sight, but I'll stick around, like.

Right. You telephone this number, ask for a Mr Bellamy

and tell him to expect a call from me later on.

Bye.

Step on it with the dummy load now, about 100 cartons.

Will you shut that?

-But can't I wait at Mr Taplow's office? -If you don't take yourself off…

You're wanting Mr Taplow, is it?

Yes. They said at his flat that he…

Sure, he'll be around. I'll see to the lady.

This way, miss. Straight along the yard.

I don't think you'll find him in the office, Dr Dyson.

He's probably in the cold store.

-Cold store? -Yes.

Straight in here, miss.

Try the far end, miss, beyond the cases.

Yes, it's cold, isn't it?

Twelve below.

Max?

Mr Taplow. Hey, Mr Taplow

Why, you…

Watch it, mush. No bundles. I'm on your payroll now.

Dr Dyson's out in the warehouse, looking for you.

Come on. Get a move on.

I've stacked the cartons to the side. Just load up and pull 'em over.

Where is she?

Dr Dyson, you fool!

Oh, Gorman took her in tow.

Terence?

No, not that way. Staff door.

All right, all right.

Take her to your office and give her a drink and lock her in.

I warn you, Taplow, she's not leaving here.

Keep going. Must make the main gate.

Thanks for letting me know. At last the poor devil will be out of his misery.

Don't give me that. She didn't come here to tell you that.

Open the gate, man.

-Stay where you are. -All right, Terence, out in the open.

You stop her going and there's no business tonight.

You daft cretin.

-She knows. -Open the gate, man.

I'll shoot her first, God forgive me.

Run for it, Anne.

Leave it, Terence.

She's on the road. Let's get away, man.

We're safer on the job than here.

We've still got time to lift the stuff and make the boat.

Put it away, Terence.

You won't need it. I'm finished here.

Let's get away to Ireland. You can shoot me there.

All right, men. Get moving.

I want to speak to Inspector Mallett personally.

What? He's been trying to contact me?

-Okay? -Yes.

Ease up, Terrence.

We're in this together. My guess is we'll bring it off.

This is Warren Heath.

From timings supplied by Ordnance Corps, the lorry passed here half an hour ago.

There's a geezer ahead, Corp, waving a flippin' torch.

What did you say?

Oh, press on. He can't have a hitch off of us.

As you were. Heave to.

Looks like a crash.

Give us a pull out, mate. Fell asleep.

-Come off the road down there. -Sorry. Not with the load we got.

Oh, come on. I'm all on my own, see?

I'm afraid me mate's had it. And it's me that's done for him an' all.

-Done for him? -Yeah.

All right.

Put 'em up.

Get your hands up.

I told you we'd make it. Shake, man.

-Somebody spilled his load. -Drunk, I suppose.

We'd better get on.

Sir, some fellas here, bound and gagged.

-They're army blokes. -This is it, then.

Come on, step on it.

That's nearly the lot. Stack the cartons well over.

Hey, headlights coming up.

Quiet. Douse your torches.

Switch your headlights off.

There's a clearing. Something's going on in it.

Taplow!

Oh, what's the panic?

I wanna get going.

Out of the clearing and back across the heath.

Right. Move over.

I'll see you out.

Get into the other car and see what's going on.

I'm going after this fellow.

-Do you see that? Two cars. -Squad cars?

Stay in the middle of the road, you bloody fool. Keep them off.

I told you, ditch them.

Ditch them!

Run him down.

-Run over him! -No, Terence.

It's…

Dot, dot.

-Seven o'clock. -Oh, God.

Only one more hour.

Sorry I look a bit rough.

Had a heavy night.

The first thing is, Jukes is safe. The Home Office have been notified.

We owe you a great deal, Dr Dyson.

I shall see there's some form of public acknowledgement.

Oh, no, don't bother about that.

Harry's alive.

Have they got the actual gunman?

Yes, we got him.

But unfortunately, not before he'd got Taplow.

I'll say this for Taplow.

He put us wise before he went.

Why the tears?

Aren't you happy and proud?

Max.

So he did mean something to you?

He's meant a lot to Harry.

- Hey, who is that? - Oh, Harry.

- Come on, Harry. Come in. - Come on, boy. Come in.

- Welcome home, Harry. - Nice to see you, boy.

Cor, strike a light. The return of the happy wanderer.

Hello, mate.

-Hi, Harry. -Hi

-Hello, Jen. -Hi, Harry.

Make us a Paloma special, will you?

Coming up.

Hello, Harry.

Hello, Mo.

Oh, uh, meet my fiancé.

Hiya.

-Cheers. -Charming.

Hello, mate. Good to see you.

Wotcha, Harry, how's it going?

-All right, fellas. -Good.

How was it, mate, eh?

Worst part was not being a person no more, you know.

Ah.

You don't mind if we don't talk about it no more, do you, mate?

How's things going, Jen? All right?

Fine, thanks, Harry.