All language subtitles for Inspector.Morse.S03E02.PAL.DVDRip.x264

Nathan? What are you doing, Nathan?

Look out! We're going into the bank!

Okay, quick! Grab that pole there!

I can't do anything!

What is it?

Come on.

Hmm. Approximately seven hours.

What happened?

Can't tell you exactly.

A man in his early 60s, about 5 feet 10
inches tall.

There's not a lot to go on.

What's that supposed to mean? Oh, the
head's been hacked off, the arms below

elbow, the legs below the knee. I'm only
guessing at the height from the

trousers.

Quite neatly done, really.

By a sergeant, you mean?

Well, anyone could do it with a hacksaw.

Oh, shall I show you?

Thank you, my dear. I'll leave that to
Sergeant Lewis.

I do wish you wouldn't call me your
dear, Ward.

How does one address a lady pathologist
first thing in the morning?

Well, a doctor would do.

Well... Doctor, I look forward to your
full report.

If I had to haggle at a professional
opinion, I'd say the chief inspector was

not a morning person.

Oh, I shouldn't worry about it.

He's got toothache.

My mother always insisted I should have
a proper breakfast.

Medical opinion would agree with her.

What about you, Doctor?

I can barely manage a cup of coffee.

Huh?

No third degree. I didn't get to bed
till four.

We all have our problems.

Well, it kills you in the end.

Well, what are you lot here for?

Suicide? Rape?

Cattle rustling? Illegal immigrants?

Murder, actually.

A nasty one.

Decapitation, to be precise.

I don't suppose anybody came in last
night with a severed head.

You think you're joking. A bloke comes
in offering to sell me a fresh chicken.

We keep a few hens and I can never bear
to kill them, so I says yes.

How he goes, comes back a few minutes
later with a bird all plucked and ready.

It's only when I go out later to shut
the hens up against the fox I notice his

one is missing.

Then I find a bag full of feathers and
guts on the head.

Peg has only gone out and knocked off
one of my own birds to tell me.

Wondrous duty calls.

What kind of people live in the cottages
down the towpath?

Locals. Weekenders.

You don't think the locals could afford
these prices?

My auntie used to swear by a clove, you
know, sir.

She's still got her own teeth.

I'll settle for coffee, Lewis, and
plenty of aspirin.

Extra sugar, as usual.

And don't forget the aspirin.

There's old Dr. Russell found in the
pocket.

I was worried about tearing it.

Discuss appearing.

For what, I wonder?

Television, sir.

Our studio's in Dockland.

You watch the stuff. What sort of
programmes are made in Dockland?

EastEnders? Not that I get time to see
it.

Maybe one of them game shows.

Meet me at the...

Can't read it. Something club in Pall
Mall.

Does that sound like a game show?

You never know, sir. They use all sorts
of ruses.

When someone goes through the trouble of
inviting you to an exclusive

gentleman's club where you pay
handsomely for the privilege of keeping

public school manners with dreadful
public school fools, it must be to

the subject's vanity.

That suit came from a university tailor,
didn't it, Lewis?

Mm -hm.

Well, let's assume our victim is a
university man.

What would flatter the vanity of a
university man in his 60s?

Pretty young woman, sir.

Wrong sort of club.

Appearing on television in something
intellectually respectable.

South Bank show, sir.

Get on to all the TV companies. Find out
who invited an awkward man about 5 foot

10 inches tall in his early 60s to a
London club in the last couple of weeks

discuss a late -night chat show.

How do you know it's late night?

I may not see much television, Lewis,
but they don't put that sort of stuff on

during the day, do they?

Chief Inspector Mawson's office.

Yeah, one moment.

It's the Moss of Bournemouth College,
Sir Alexander Rees.

Walt.

Thank you.

Alex.

Yes, yes, it's been ages.

No, I didn't know.

Well, I don't have time to keep up with
all your activities.

I suppose congratulations are in order.

Lunch?

Yes, well, why not?

Yes, I'm free.

I'll be there.

I'll bring you a fellowship, will you,
sir?

Knowing Reece, he probably wants free
advice on guarding the college silver.

I'll leave you to sort out those TV
companies, all right? Right, but I...

check on that suit.

Sailor May, we should get the owner's
name.

I'll get on to them first.

Oh, and then you can chase up your
friend, Dr Russell.

That should give us all something to
look forward to.

Chief Inspector Morse.

I am here.

Over -educated women.

My dear fellow.

How long has it been?

Quite a while.

Come in. Come in.

Right. Sherry?

Scotch, if you've got it.

To think.

Oh.

All this stuff yours or the college's?

Mine, I'm afraid.

You always were quite a collector,
weren't you, Alec?

Do take these.

What was wrong with the girl just now?

Oh, Deborah Burns, yeah.

Such a pretty, highly gifted student.

She's just completed her DPhil. I
supervised her myself, actually.

Will she get it?

Oh, she'll get it, all right.

But she was hoping for a research
fellowship here. I had to tell her just

that she's been turned down.

She took it very hard, as you saw.

Rather highly strung.

But I didn't get you here to talk about
my students. As Virgil pointed out,

there's no such thing as a free lunch.

Hmm.

I'm very concerned about Dr Kerridge, my
vice -master.

It seemed to me that someone like you
who understands the university could

discreet inquiries.

What about?

Well, he took off for London at the end
of term and was supposed to be back four

days ago.

I'm supposed to chair a conference on
constitutional law tomorrow, and he's

supposed to be in charge in my absence.

Four days isn't very long. Oh, he's very
punctilious.

Untidy in appearance, perhaps, but...

Highly organised.

Well, we've checked his flat in
Bayswater and his cottage in Thrup. He's

angler. But he doesn't appear to have
been there either.

Two desirable residences?

People pay economists vast sums of money
in order to avoid taking their advice.

Perhaps he fell in love.

It can happen to anybody.

That's what concerns me.

Kerridge is not a ladies' man.

Quite the contrary.

So if he has fallen among bad company,
well, we can't afford the scandal.

What makes you think he has?

I had a call from a young man.

All he would say was that Dr Kerridge
would be delayed. When I asked to speak

Kerridge himself, the man rang off.

I still don't see why.

But you must realise that my college's
reputation is at stake.

I appointed Kerridge.

It was a good idea.

Healed the divisions after my election.

He was popular with most of the fellows.

Except Drysdale, of course.

Arthur Drysdale?

Yes, you know him? Are you still?

He has cancer, you know.

Of the brain.

Six months, I reckon. Maybe less.

He's gone to Rome.

It's his favourite city.

One last visit.

What about Hayman Carriage?

Oh, they were famous as enemies.

I mean, are.

Rivals for the Sheldon Lectureship, you
see.

Some people consider it the most
prestigious post in the entire

Who won?

As a matter of fact, I did.

Which no doubt put you on the road to
your present eminence.

Yes, I expect it helped. But whatever
the case, if something...

Unfavoury as happened to carriage, it'll
reflect badly, not only on the college,

but upon me.

Can you think of one good reason why I
should help you, Alex?

Professional pride.

Better get into lunch, or it'll all be
gone.

I'm Dr. Kerridge. Mr. Christopher
Stonely is expecting me.

Stonely? No.

Thank you.

Night, Luncey.

I had an eminent chemist on my left who
talked throughout the whole meal about

the operation he'd just had on his
piles.

Very nice.

And the world -famous mathematician on
my right demonstrated beyond all

reasonable doubt that the best au pairs
come from Portugal.

That's what you go for, isn't it? A
conversation.

True, Lewis. That's why I prefer pubs.

What have you got?

Not much.

No luck with the university tailors yet.

Those TV people were no help at all. And
we're still waiting for Dr Russell's

report.

I've got a missing person.

A distinguished economist.

It's called Carriage. He's vice -master
at Beaumont College. Is he on the list?

Carriage. No Carriage.

Were you thinking he might be the body?
That'd be convenient, wouldn't it?

Let us hypothesize. Let's say that
Carriage is the recipient of that

goes to London.

Something goes wrong.

A young man calls to say that he'll be
delayed.

And then we find the headless body in
Thrup, the place where he happens to

a cottage.

Sounds all right to me. Right.

You take the cottage in Thrup.

I'll do the pied -à -terre in fragrant
bayswater.

Fortes, fortuna, do that.

Fortune favors the brave.

My school motto, sir.

I am not hurt, Christopher.

Chris, please call me Chris.

Chris, I've had a lovely time.

But I must admit to being just the
tiniest bit irritated.

You've kept me in London when I ought to
be in Oxford.

I'm still waiting to see the contract
for this show of yours. There is no

contract.

Nor a show.

Nor a studio.

Then what on earth? Just a little acting
job.

While I'm resting, as they don't say in
the trade, I do not understand.

Someone wanted me to play a TV producer.

The second time they've asked me, as a
matter of fact.

I was supposed to persuade you about
this programme and lure you down to the

Isle of Docks, pretending that's where
the studio is.

Who approached you, and why?

They didn't tell me his name.

I can tell you what he looks like, then.

The sort who should play old -fashioned
headmasters.

Tall, fussy, upright for his age.

Claimed to be a friend of yours.

Though he's not wearing nearly as well
as you are.

Thanks, Chris.

Did he tell you why he wanted you to go
through this charade?

No.

No, I...

I didn't care for the first one.

But you're different.

I must be on my way.

No, please stay. No, I'm afraid I must.

I believe the person you described to be
abroad.

If he's not, I must prepare myself.

Goodbye.

Thank you for my lunch.

15 -30 service from Oxford due at 17
-30.

Who is it?

It's Chief Inspector Moore, so I'm
looking for Dr. Kerry.

Well, of course I know the doctor,
Inspector. I've lived here since the

know, when it was a respectable place.
I'm sure, madam. Of course, it was very

boring then.

Fascinating things that go on now.

I wouldn't live anywhere else in the
world.

How long has Dr.

Kerridge had his flat, Mrs...? Miss
Tree.

Tree by name, Miss Tree by nature.

I don't suppose you want to know about
my private life?

If you would just tell me about Dr.
Kerridge.

What do you want to know, Inspector?

When did you last see him?

Oh, I haven't seen him for weeks.

I've heard him all right. He has the
flat above me. Not that I'm complaining.

doesn't go in for wild parties, more's
the pity.

Keeps himself to himself, you might say.
Rather dull, really.

I mean, all he really likes doing is
sitting by the canal in the rain, trying

catch fish.

I prefer dancing.

When you say you've heard him... Oh,
just a bit of banging about.

chopping the head off some poor herring,
I dare say, to feed his friends.

How anyone can eat fish when you see the
state of the water.

Does he often have friends in, Miss
Tree? He lets people stay here. They

come to me for the key.

When was the last time that happened?

Last week.

An elderly gentleman.

Very nicely turned out.

And he didn't say who he was?

It wouldn't have meant anything to me
anyway, would it, Inspector?

If I could borrow the key to have a look
around as a friend.

I must finish getting ready for my tea
dance.

Do you tango?

No, I thought not.

I might be able to do something with
you.

Perhaps not.

Scotch, please.

Thank you.

Ma 'am.

Dr. Burns, is it?

Who the hell are you?

My name is Morse.

Path's crust in the master's lodging.

I'm waiting for someone.

Your glasses feel empty.

All right.

White wine, thanks.

That seat is taken.

Scotch and white wine.

Did you hear what I said? That seat is
taken.

How did you know my name?

Well, Alex told me we're old
acquaintances.

So are we.

Cheers. Cheers.

By the way, I'm not a doctor yet.

Well, Alex said there'd be no doubt.

What he said about my fellowship.

Academics don't know what it means,
stuck in their little library towers.

They've more or less got jobs for life,
haven't they?

Would they share them with someone new?

Someone who also happens to be a woman?

I'd like to see some of them on the
dole, I can tell you. Like Alex?

Alex and I... We work very closely
together on the new book.

I should have joint credit, really.

Still, it might get me my doctorate.

It should have got me my research
fellowship.

Are you connected with Oxford, Mr Moore?
In a manner of speaking.

You must have some idea of what it's
like.

A vicious, backbiting, petty -minded
parochial little town that thinks it's

centre of the universe.

Pretty, though.

For a city.

It's the people that spoil it.

People like Beaumont's vice -master, Dr
David Bloody Carriage.

Why Carriage in particular?

He's the one who voted against me.

How do you know?

Alex, the master told me.

That's who I'm waiting for.

You might have a long wait.

I've got a train to catch.

Can I get you another?

No, thanks.

Well, I wish you luck, Miss Burns.

Dr. Kerridge.

Miss Burns!

What on earth are you doing here? You
vetoed my fellowship. I want to know

Dear good woman.

Come on.

This may sound melodramatic, Miss Burns,
but there is someone after me. Me, Dr.

Kerridge.

I am quite serious, Miss Burns.

So am I.

Give me one good reason why you are so
against me.

I was not.

I am not.

I had nothing to do with turning you
down. You have my word. Then who was it?

You really want to know?

Very well.

It was the master.

You've got a tissue.

You've got a nasty infection there.

There's nothing I can do until it's
cleared up.

I'll give you a prescription for some
penicillin and you can come back on

Friday. Well, can't you just take it out
now?

You no longer condemn teeth to death
without just cause, Mr. Moore.

If you had visited a dentist in the last
few years, you would know that.

Make an appointment with the
receptionist. And cut out the sugar.

Good day to you.

I could be of help.

Hello.

Hello, Sergeant Lewis.

What's he got you wrong? I thought your
wife bought your clothes.

Not around here, she doesn't. A bit
rich.

Oh, go on. Let's have a look.

We've seen this once already.

Hmm.

Definitely not your style.

So at least we know now how it was.

Taylor made for Dr. Kerry.

An arm and a leg.

Oh, hey.

The chief inspector found out that Kerry
went missing recently.

More than likely ended up in the canalic
slough.

Oh, um, how is Mawson's toothache?

Still making him impossible?

He's gone to the dentist.

He'll be all sweetness and light now, I
promise.

Well, we'll see.

Actually, you can probably help me.

Oh, try.

Well, believe it or not, I've been made
godmother.

Yes, which makes me feel very old.

And, um, I'm not quite sure what you get
nowadays.

A girl or a boy? A boy, age three.

One thing I wanted when I was a lad was
a tin drum.

Hope me mum wouldn't have it. Said it'd
be too noisy.

Yeah, sure she was right.

No, no, I need something smaller.

They're going back to India. Need to
work in the same hospital.

What about a mug?

You know, a pewter mug.

There's a nice shop on the high street.

Yeah, that's a good idea.

Oh, but you may not turn out for a
drink.

It's hot out there, isn't it?

Sugar? No, better not.

Tent is the shortest.

Is this yours?

Sort of. I pinched it from my local.

Does that appear any good?

No.

Why don't you try it sometime?

I might just do that.

What news of the master?

I spoke to him this morning.

In fact, I was going to call you.

Dr Kerridge has been found in London.

He's perfectly all right.

Yes.

Who found him?

Miss Burns, apparently.

She rang here last night in a most
peculiar state.

What did she say?

She appears to have got it into her head
that the master has ruined her career.

In fact, he may have put the threats.

What sort of threats?

Well, you know, academics, they're
forever accusing each other of

She said she'd expose him, the usual
kind of thing.

How would she do that?

Well, there are people in the media who
are ready to believe anything, aren't

there?

Especially about Oxford.

But I think Miss Burns was just being
hysterical.

Why?

Because she claimed Dr Kerridge
supported her against the master.

But completely unlike him, he's totally
loyal to the college.

May I?

Miss Burns doesn't exactly get the most
generous of acknowledgements, does she?

I have no doubt the master gave her what
she deserved.

Of course, she could have been greedy
for more.

Does she know what he's put?

She insisted on knowing. That's what
caused her intemperate reaction.

And you told the master about that?

Of course.

How did he react?

Calmly, as always.

Dr. Russell had forensics report on that
piece of skin he brought back.

It does belong to the body.

But whose body is it, Lewis?

It's Dr. Kerridge's.

The suit was his.

Dr. Kerridge is alive and kicking in
London.

We'd better have that canal dragged
again.

Arrange it, will you?

I trust your excellent taste is as much
appreciated by your employer as it is by

me.

Difficult, is it?

Just difficult to keep up with.

But the effort is so worthwhile.

Tell me about the Sheldon lectures.

One of the greatest honours the college
can bestow.

Guaranteed publicity.

Guaranteed publication.

Guaranteed future career.

So the master was very fortunate to get
the job.

Not fortunate, deserving.

But of course he wasn't master then,
that followed later.

How was the post awarded?

The college council decided between
those fellows who'd been put forward.

And how would people like Carriage and
Drysdale get defeated?

You know Oxford, it only needs someone
to... to put about the wrong sort of

gossip about a candidate, that his work
wasn't original, or that there was

something in his private life that would
gain the lecture the wrong sort of

attention.

So Carriage and Drysdale might have
assumed that each had slandered the

I suppose so.

I feel so sorry for Mr Drysdale, for an
academic to contract cancer of the

brain.

But he does seem to be enjoying himself
in Rome.

We've all had postcards.

Damn it, Lewis, I'm off duty.

Sorry, sir. Sorry, miss. We've just had
a call from the chief superintendent

about Dr Kerridge.

Come back to Oxford, has he? I'm afraid
not, sir.

They found him in his bayswater flat,
battered to death.

Hmm. Hex or job.

Yep. Thought it might be.

What's a nice girl like you doing a job
like this for?

How do you know I'm a nice girl, hmm?

You sound just like Morse.

Oh, take that as a compliment.

No, I mean, you'd have made a smashing
GP.

What made you prefer dead bodies?

Um, well, you have the same challenge of
diagnosis, but without the

responsibility of prescription.

Hmm.

The dead man was at least five feet ten,
but I can't tell you much more till the

head is found.

I'll go and see the boss.

You really like him, don't you?

You bet there is.

Oh, if you say so.

Doesn't make sense that two people
killed in the same flat.

By the same person, do you reckon?

Well, if so, why cut up one body and
bring it all the way to Thrup?

Why dress it in someone else's suit?
You're going to kill the owner of that

soon afterwards.

And I thought it was Kerridge who did
the first killing, and then got killed

himself.

Why would Kerridge want to dress up a
corpse in his own clothes?

Whoever killed our first victim planned
it very carefully.

Carriage, on the other hand, was
battered to death in a way that seems

casual by comparison.

There obviously is a connection.

One the yard will never find, that's for
sure.

Look at that.

The Christopher N.

1669.

Well done, Lewis.

And the place where the Sheldon lectures
are delivered.

In front of the great men of the
university in all their robed finery.

To be the centre of attention in such a
place.

To have your peers hanging on your every
word.

Worth killing for, would you say, Lewis?

I don't know, sir.

I was once meant to speak in a balloon
debate in my first year of secondary

school. But it was cut short by a fire
drill.

Get back to the office.

Check on all missing persons over five
foot ten.

I'm popping into Blackwell's to see if
they've got anything by the late doctor.

By their works, surely he knew them.

Look at that.

Simplicity of life, Mort. The older one
comes, the more unattainable and

expensive simplicity becomes.

Mary, my dear, how well you've
recovered.

Lady Reese doesn't share your toast in
art, I take it. Rachel is not fond of

crowds. Being in a wheelchair, she gets
bored with other people's groins.

I didn't know.

No.

It was her own fault.

Hunting. What do you expect?

You, um, you never married, did you?

No.

What was the name of that girl we both
knew?

Wendy.

Wendy.

Let's talk about carriage.

What if

it were

rent boys, or whatever they're called?

It would be very helpful if you could...
Curb speculation.

The Scotland Yard are officially dealing
with this case.

Not you.

Oh, well, that's all right. I know the
commissioner quite well.

They sometimes call me in to talk about
civil liberties.

Yes, I'm sure you're everybody's
favorite expert.

As a matter of fact, I dropped into the
cabinet office on the way back from

Sussex. They're setting up a commission
to look into the feasibility of a Bill

of Rights. Which means they're never
going to do anything about it. And I

probably be its chairman.

I'm told it's almost definite.

Well done.

You'll soon be in the House of Lords.

It would make Rachel happy.

You didn't by any chance run into Miss
Burns when you were in London?

No, I was very pressed for time.

Come on, Alex.

She was threatening to blacken your
name.

I can handle Miss Burns.

And Dr. Kerridge?

Wasn't he prepared to back her up?

Kerridge is far too sensible to be
swayed by anything an overwrought young

might have told him.

You didn't run into him by any chance?

No, I told you I was in London for only
an hour or so.

Do you want the name of the person I was
with?

The yard light.

It was Mitchell.

Robin Mitchell.

Excuse me.

Martha, I thought you were in the
Rockies with Eddie.

Yes, we were, Alex Darling. Walter's
business commitments, I'm afraid.

Hello, Lewis.

Listen, I think I've had something.

You'd better come in.

Pour yourself a drink.

No, no, thanks.

Well? Yeah, about this Smith and Perth
and they're all one or two people the

right height.

Well, let's have a...

There's one, Mr.

J. Williams, who's described as a
financial advisor.

To the government, you mean?

Not exactly, no. More like telling old
ladies how to invest their savings and

then walking off with the cash.

I mean, some old pensioner might have
caught up with him and expected a

revenge.

Unfortunately, he had a tattoo.

If it was on one of the limbs that was
chopped off. A writhing serpent, sir.

Right across his back.

I've checked with Dr. Russell.

Not a snake in sight. All right, Lewis.

Now tell me the good news.

Well, there's one.

5 '11", early 60s, last seen about five
days ago.

And who has the Oxford connection, sir?

Name? Ballarat.

Nicholas Ballarat.

He's a very senior civil servant, sir.
Has the ear of the Prime Minister and

that. So if it is him, that would
explain why Scotland Yard have kept

What's his connection with Oxford?

He's an honorary fellow of Beaumont
College, sir.

Looks to me, Lewis, as if we ought to
pay a visit to the wicked metropolis.

You say so, sir.

Go on.

Get home to your wife and kiddies. They
need you even more than I do.

See you in a moment.

Is he in? He's at lunch, in all souls.

Can I help?

Is that a rhetorical question?

Two fakes still giving you hell.

Mm -hmm.

Would a beer help?

Undoubtedly. But I'd only keep you
from... The college buttery serves a

perfectly acceptable ale.

And... I do owe you one.

Thank you.

Does the name Nicholas Ballarat mean
anything to you?

Of course.

He's one of our honorary fellows.

Do you know anything more about him?

Only that he's an internationally known
economist who advises half the world's

government. Including our own.

He's also a whiz at money raising.

He made the new building program
possible.

Who nominated him for the honorary
fellowship?

The master, I think. Why?

I've been reading Kerridge's book. He
attacked Ballarat quite viciously.

I wouldn't have thought that made for
harmonious high table gatherings.

I'm told they could do with a bit of
livening up.

Mm -hm.

Besides, Ballarat gives as good as he
gets.

He made a speech at the union that was
quite obviously aimed at Dr Kerridge.

Everybody here was talking about it.

Well, Carriage was an angler. They're
very philosophical.

Like policemen.

You know, Alex built his reputation on
people like them.

He wrote their constitution when they
became independent.

He understood their needs so well that
within a year they'd torn up all his

rules and become a one -party state.

disturb you, my dear.

My dear doctor.

You're very squeamish, aren't you, Maud?
Very.

I can understand that.

You can?

Max never did.

Ah, well, I'm not Max, am I?

No, no, I would say you weren't.

Don't know anything about toothache, I
suppose.

Bloody pills haven't done any good.

Oh, I don't trust doctors, let alone
dentists.

Well, what can I do you for?

The Ballarat murder.

Have you had anything from the yard?

Uh, yes.

Yes, much of what they've sent. It's not
much use if you don't have his head to

check his dental records.

Hmm. The blood group's the same.

The height matches.

The age is right.

And, um, also the time of death.

You said he was cut up by someone who
knew what he or she was doing.

Hmm.

Where the hell do you get the name
Grayling from?

Blame my father.

I was his seventh daughter, and, well,
he was a keen fisherman, and desperate

for a name, he decided to call me after
whatever he pulled out of the river.

Lucky it wasn't the chub, eh?

Sorry.

Maybe you'd like a drink sometime.

Maybe I would.

Once I've got rid of this bloody
toothache.

How do people live in a place like this?

No work in Kidlington.

The buildings are considerably finer.

Some were designed by Inigo Jones.

Ah.

You should have seen your cutlery.

Once knew a girl in Burton -on
-Trentworth.

Further north than that, I have no
desire to go.

Turn right here.

Are you sure? I'm sure.

Thank you, Inspector. First on the
right.

I'm a frequent visitor to the corridors
of power, Lewis.

Good.

Look, I'm sorry if I'm not being much
help, but...

Well, I suppose we in the Cabinet Office
get into the habit of telling as little

as possible.

And I assure you, you wouldn't get any
more out of Mr Mitchell, even if he had

the time to see you.

We are talking about a murder, Mr
Collins.

I know, I know.

But it could happen to anyone, couldn't
it?

I mean, you asked me if Ballarat had any
enemies.

Well, quite frankly, we all have.

It's one of the penalties of being a
public servant.

Though I imagine you two should know all
about that.

What do you know about the Royal
Commission on the Bill of Rights, Mr.

What do you know, Chief Inspector?

The CID do sometimes get information,
sir. Have you found yourselves a

To be quite honest, I don't see what
this has to do with your inquiries. I

find out in any Fleet Street pub, Mr.
Collins. I'd rather have it from the

horse's mouth.

Well, I suppose it will be made public
fairly soon.

In actual fact, we have found a
chairman.

I can't tell you who, of course. Sir
Alex Rees?

No, certainly not.

Whoever gave you that idea? Who made the
final recommendations?

Look, these are matters of national
security.

Was it Mr Ballarat?

Look, all I can say is that he is, or
rather was, someone by whose advice the

set great store.

Thank you, sir.

Hope we haven't taken up too much of
your time. Look here, Chief Inspector.

I wouldn't want any unauthorised
information being wrongly attributed.

Of course not, Mr Collins.

You haven't told us anything, have you?

Could hit the road, sir.

Think of the traffic, Lewis.

Besides, the pubs will be open any
minute.

What's your opinion of Mr Collins?

I thought he was an arrogant pillock,
sir, and you more or less told him so.

Did I?

I thought I was the soul of politeness.

That's what you always think, though,
isn't it, sir?

You've got any breath, Lewis?

Miss Burns?

Miss Burns?

Try, Sid.

Shut up, Lewis.

It's opening time.

Alcohol -free lager time for me, I
suppose.

You always complain about my driving,
Lewis. Think of my pension and slow

will you?

What did you say?

I said I was thinking about Ballarat.

I still can't fathom out why he was
dumped at Thrup.

If you'd been promised something and
were then disappointed, something that

would crown your career, wouldn't you
harbour murderous thoughts against the

person that disappointed you?

I doubt it.

Well, let's assume the murderer doesn't
have your forgiving nature. The victim

is someone prominent.

So prominent that the minute the death
is discovered, the entire nation's

forces are in action.

Now, what would you do to put off the
moment of discovery?

Chop him up into little bits, dump him
somewhere miles away.

Precisely.

And if you now have a flat in London
where you can perform the act of

or a cottage by a canal where you can
jet it in the bed... Dr. Carrington.

No.

That's who you're meant to think of.

It's a person I think of.

You were turned to?

I was thinking, Lewis, that you're Alex
Reed, the master of Beaumont.

For heaven's sake, be a man, Inspector.

Is it the way you behave when facing
some slight discomfort?

No wonder violent crime is on the
increase.

See the teeth out on the hook?

Don't know anything about that. He lost
half the mountain, I think.

Yeah,

can you put him in cell number three?
Because he hasn't been charged yet.

I'll be down later about that.

Yeah, he's all right there. The rest are
fine.

That's good, yeah.

Chief Superintendent wants to see you,
sir, like an hour ago.

Thanks, Chief. I'll be in the office.

And you barged in without informing the
guard?

Sir? You've threatened a member of the
Cabinet Office staff.

A very self -important member.

That's no excuse.

And uncooperative.

You know what these bureaucrats are
like. You don't go picking on them.

I thought we parted very amicably.

And you must be getting even more
insensitive in your old age. What's

you?

Teeth.

Nevertheless, it does not do this force
any good to have one of its chief

inspectors behaving like a roughy jovo
up in Whitehall for the cup.

Look, sir, I was at Oxford with half the
senior ranks of the civil service.

And that's where you learn to behave so
badly, I suppose.

Huh?

Thank God my daughters went red brick.

Civil servants respect a bit of
effortless superiority.

It's what they're always trying on the
rest of the world.

And what good did he do you?

We believe the torso is that of Nicholas
Ballarat, a senior government advisor.

Dr. Russell's forensic skills identified
him, I understand.

Always happy to pay credit where it's
due, sir.

What about his killer?

That's why my interview with Mr Collins
at the Cabinet Office was so useful.

Ballarat was an honorary fellow of
Beaumont College, the new master of

so Alexander Rees recommended him
personally.

In return, he expected Ballarat to get
the Prime Minister to nominate him as

chairman of a new Royal Commission, a
certain route to a peerage if you come

with the right conclusions.

Well?

According to Mr Collins, Ballarat did
not.

Put forward Rhys's name.

Are you seriously suggesting that a
public figure like the Master of

would murder a senior civil servant
merely because he didn't get the chair

the commission?

Look, I've known Rhys for a long time.
He's always been intensely over

-ambitious.

Kerridge found out that he was claiming
as his own the work of one of his female

pupils.

Rhys also happened to be having an
affair with her.

I don't see what that's got to do with
anything.

Rhys called me informally when Kerridge
disappeared because he didn't want any

scandal sullying his own good name.

So he could have killed Kerridge to keep
him from speaking out.

Could have?

It's pure speculation around a case
being dealt with by the guard.

Yes, sir, but if Rhys could kill his own
vice master, he could certainly kill a

man like Ballarat, who he believed had
robbed him of his crowning glory.

If... If... Don't give me any more
hypotheses, Morse. I want facts.

Moose? No, I'm sorry, sir. The jaw's
still rather tender.

Coffee, sir?

Extra sugar.

Didn't last long, did it, sir?

The self -denial.

I know. You need the energy.

Yes, I've already had a bad time with
both the dentist and the chief

superintendent. Sorry, sir.

What did he say?

We need more to convince him that Rhys
is a killer.

What if we were to eliminate all those
possible suspects?

Like Drysdale.

He had a motive for killing Carriage.
They were old enemies.

I've checked on him. The hospital's
confirmed he's dying of brain cancer.

Besides, he's in Rome.

Still.

What are the twin bases for successful
detection, Lewis?

Confession and information, sir. Well
done. Now, what we need is information.

And who are the best informed people in
any college?

The scouts, Lewis.

They put the drunk to bed, they clean up
the vomit, they wake the sober where

the single are impaired.

They are discreet, maternal, devoted,
exploited, and they know everything.

Start with carriages to go. Why not all
the college gossip? Off you go.

Dr. Carriage?

Who? Dr.

Carriage. Oh, yes.

Turn left and up the stairs.

Hi.

This will cut you up, sir.

It's a bit early in the day for me,
Mr... Just Ben, sir.

If I had a last name, I'd forgotten it.

Well, it's only for when you're in
trouble, isn't it, sir?

Law, taxes and elections.

That's when they want to know, don't
they?

Bottoms up, sir.

Isn't it?

Bit and bob, sir.

Won't do you any harm.

How long have you been here, Ben? All my
life, sir. Terrible, isn't it?

Never been to war, never been to sea,
never been to London, never been a

football hooligan, never been
unemployed, never been rich, never voted

There you have it, sir.

My whole story.

You're, uh... You're from up north,
aren't you, sir?

Newcastle. But my wife's from Oxford.
Born and bred.

Now, can we talk about Dr. Kerridge?

What was he like to look after?

Was he about keeping things just so?

Oh, I wish they were more like him, sir.

He was that tidy, you'd scarcely know he
was there.

What about his private life?

Didn't have one in college, sir.

I imagine he left after those other
places he had.

Friends? Enemies?

He was one of those people everybody got
on with, sir.

Well, except for Mr. Doyle, Dale.

And that was just one of those stupid
things that got right out of hand.

Mr Drysdale's away, I gather? Yes, sir.

He got a card from him only yesterday.

To show you how things were between
them, when Dr

Kerridge heard about Mr Drysdale's
cancer, he actually smiled.

I think I'd like to take a look at both
their rooms, if that's possible.

Of course it is, sir.

I've got the keys right here.

Their little war is quite famous, you
know.

When Mr Ballarat attacked Dr Kerrig in
the Union, Mr Joyce, they were that

delighted. It was all over the college
in no time.

What kind of attack did Mr. Ballarat
make?

Oh, the usual Oxford kind, sir.

And a tap on his reputation.

You can imagine the trouble I have
getting to water all these plants when

away.

You didn't know Mr. Ballarat, did you?

Of course I did, sir.

Used to be a great friend of Mr.

Drysdale's.

When was that?

When Mr.

Drysdale first got his fellowship.

Regular visitor Mr.

Ballarat was.

Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale used to entertain
him all the time.

Mrs. Drysdale?

Oh, he was married, sir. Didn't you
know?

I don't know why you should, considering
how long ago it was.

What happened to her?

She ran off with Mr Ballarat.

Mr Drysdale wasn't half upset.

Ready to kill himself, he was.

You're a different gentleman after that,
I can tell you.

How do you mean?

Sort of moody, sir.

Much more withdrawn.

And the funny thing is, Mrs Drysdale
died three year after.

Maybe Mr Drysdale put a curse on her.

I wouldn't put it past him.

It depends on how heavy it was and
what's been going through the lock.

If it was a busy day when it was choked
in. Was it busy? Seven days ago.

It's high season now, isn't it? The
place is full of trippers. Even the fish

all about laughing.

So if something the size of, say, a
football, only heavier, something

say, about ten pounds, was thrown in
from here a week ago...

What's your expert guess as to where it
would be now?

Water will shoot anything every which
way.

It's time the locks open.

What is it you're looking for exactly?

Well, a head, actually.

A head?

A man's head.

We know it hasn't gone straight to the
bottom because we've looked.

An angler would soon holler hooking
something like that.

Exactly. So what you're saying is it
could have been washed to the right or

of where it was dumped.

Upstream or down.

Thank you, Lewis.

Well, if it was me, I'd start at the
next lock -up.

And go which way?

Upstream or down?

I'll go north myself.

Thanks.

Thanks very much.

We already know who the body belongs to,
sir, so why bother about the head?

You know the legend of Orpheus?

The thing in Greek?

The very same. They did teach you
something in the frozen north.

When Demis Roussos confronted a kid
there, that's who they compared him

This is the way to the lock.

This is the way to A lock.

Thank you, old boy.

Come, Bartha. I told you we had to go
this way, and then...

We find a battered skull.

I say.

A battered skull.

Would you be awfully sweet and untie the
paper for me?

Will you be able to handle it on your
own? Of course I will.

But not for me.

I don't like to interrupt you, Lewis,
but as I was trying to say... Sorry,

If we find Ballarat's battered skull,
the chances are he was killed by the

person that killed Kerridge.

That's what the Yard, in their floppy
way, are assuming.

And if the skull's got a bullet hole in
it, we can assume there are two killers.

That, at the moment, is my theory.

Neeson? Not sure yet.

Maybe Deborah Burns?

Maybe even Drysdale.

Ah, he fell abroad.

Colleges are postcards for Rome.

Postmarks can be deceptive.

A foreign stamp on a smudged bit of
franking does not mean it was posted

Let's get the underwater search unit out
here again.

And while we wait...

H .A. receiving.

H .A. receiving. Over.

Thank you, Dave.

A cup of tea, sir.

Coffee.

Medicinal brandy?

Just take a few deep breaths.

I'm sure it's the formaldehyde.

What were you saying, Doctor?

Shot in the back of the head at close
range.

The bullets are .32, I'd say. Quite old
by the look of it.

Ballistics should know what fired it.

Guns are as distinctive as typewriters.

Not like those blasted word processors.

Robots used by robots.

Can't tell the difference.

You always knock him, see? If you knew
how to get him to tell you what you

wanted. I still prefer a pen.

So do I.

One with a nib that you fell from a
bottle.

You'd better get someone to identify the
thing.

And if there's no next of kin, I think
our friend Mr. Collins will do nicely,

don't you?

And if he's too busy to come, tell him
we'll send it in a dispatch box.

That's a toothache. As if it had never
been.

What about that drink?

Why not?

Tonight?

No, I can't tonight, I'm afraid. I'm
going to a concert.

I like concerts. What are you going to
see?

Metric Conversion.

Is that one of those serialists?

No, a pop group.

Not your kind of thing, Morse.

Maybe another time?

I trust so.

I can't join you, I'm afraid.

I'm rather pressed for time.

What was it?

Scotch.

Tell me about Ballarat, Alex.

Ballarat? Oh, didn't I tell you his was
the body we found at Thrupp?

Ballarat.

Of course I will, though.

Why hasn't this been made public?

We weren't absolutely sure. We've only
just found the head, you see.

My God.

Nasty, isn't it?

The length to which people will go.

Yes, it is a shock.

They were quite close, professionally,
of course.

I thought he was an economist.

He put forward a few of my ideas to the
peer, which I gather were favourably

received. Do you know if he put them
forward as your ideas or his?

He was a gentleman, Morse. I repeat the
question.

I'm sure he never stole another man's
thoughts.

It happens, doesn't it?

It's an accusation that's often made by
those with few original thoughts of

their own.

Ballarat never done such a thing.

I'm sure of it.

People change, don't they?

You don't. Now, if you'll excuse me.
Heard anything from Miss Burns, by the

Why are you so interested in her? Is it
professional or merely libidinous?

Like you, Alex.

A little bit of both.

I've heard nothing.

And if you saw my diary, well, ask
Carol. She knows my every move.

I hope to be back by midnight, but you
know this sort of delegates, they always

feel cheated if they don't drink till
dawn.

Don't do too much. Good night.

Morse? Well, you heard his master's
voice.

Dinner?

Where? You choose.

Bearing in mind that I am only a poor
policeman.

I know just the place.

I've been wanting to try it for ages.

But I haven't had the courage on my own.
Will I like it?

You're broad -minded as well as broad
-shouldered, aren't you?

Trust me.

I must have found it interesting.

Oh, yes.

It's very unusual.

Thank you.

I still don't forgive you

After you denied me the fellowship.

You're going to take my work as yours. I
wasn't going to have that.

It is mine.

You think that, but who gave you the
groundwork?

You showed you the method, pointed you
in the right direction.

Who got you published?

In a Scandinavian journal. There'll be
others.

If you will.

Keep my mouth shut.

If you do, then I can help shape your
future.

If not... Does that future include all
this?

We make rather a good team, don't you
think?

We can continue together or not.

It's your choice.

And if I choose not to?

Oh, that would be very sad.

For both of us.

Deborah? Now,

Miss Sharp.

Carol.

You got in about nine.

Ten -two. The traffic was good.

Was the door to the study open or
closed?

Closed.

If it was open, that was a sign that he
wanted me to go straight in.

And if it was closed?

Either he wasn't there or he didn't want
to be disturbed.

So you left a chat and got on with your
work?

Until I got a phone call from Lady Rees
asking if her husband was in.

Apparently she couldn't get through on
his private line.

So, naturally, I got up to see if he
wanted to speak to her.

You mean sometimes he didn't?

As you know, the master is... Or rather,
he was a very busy man.

He might have been in the middle of
something or on the phone.

Surely your sergeant intercepts calls
you don't want to take.

So you opened the door and found him
lying there.

Would you normally be the first one to
see him?

I mean, there wasn't a scout who's
attached to the lodgings who'd wake him

with a cup of tea.

The lodgings has a cleaner who comes in
later.

The master doesn't live here
permanently, of course. He and Lady Rees

house in North Oxford.

He only stays here... stayed here
when...

work dictated.

So you would be the first to see him?

Would anyone else know if he was in
residence?

I mean, did he come and go via the
porter's lodge, or is there a private

the street? Oh, there is a private door
to which he has... had a key.

Only he had one.

And Lady Reith.

Were you expecting him to sleep here
last night?

Oh, well, he often did after one of
those conference dinners. They go on

late, and...

Well, since we were hard at work
finishing the book.

Say he'd come back with someone.

You recognise this?

Miss Burns.

Joachim was, Miss Bensett.

I don't know, Lewis.

Highly strung, bent on revenge, yet the
pieces don't quite fit.

If she was going to kill him, why would
she sleep with him first?

Washington?

If you were a young girl, gone to the
trouble of obtaining a gun,

travelled to Oxford all ready to use it,
Would you be in the mood for love?

What if he tried to rape me?

All right. But what about Lady Rees?

If he was carrying on, she must have
known about it.

Everybody knows everybody's business in
this university.

Maybe she thought it was time to put a
stop to her once and for all.

Good try, Lewis.

Unfortunately, Lady Rees is confined to
a wheelchair.

Come on, let's see what Dr Russell has
to say.

Make sure you get this area too.

Great. Thank you, John.

From the same gun that shot Mr Ballarat,
I'd say.

Same sort of mark from the rifling of
the barrel.

I'll send the bullets down to Ballistics
for confirmation.

Ballistics said that other bullet could
have been left over from the war.

You wouldn't think they'd keep that
long, would you?

Careful, Lewis. I'd kept that long.

You realise this means Miss Burns is
highly unlikely to be the killer?

Now, where would a girl like that get
water and ammunition?

There's plenty of collectors about, sir.

Maybe her father or an old family
friend.

Hmm.

What else can you tell us, Doctor?

Time of death around midnight, and from
my examination, I'd say he'd recently

had sexual intercourse.

I think I'd better go and see Miss
Burns.

She could be anywhere.

I'll start with her parents in London.

Meanwhile, you checked what kind of
wartime gun used .32 ammo and could take

silencer.

One was obviously used if no one in a
college full of carousing delegates

a thing.

Find out what kind of people were into
you.

Oh,

by the way, how was decimalisation?

What?

Oh, you mean metric conversion.

Terrible.

Must be getting old.

Mrs. Burns.

My name is Morse, from Oxford.

Is Deborah in by any chance?

I'm so sorry, she's not here, Mr.

Morse. She's just taken Sabina, that's
our other daughter Rachel's little girl,

to the zoo.

Oh, that's all right. I'm sure I'll find
her. Thank you.

You never said you were a policeman.

Just want to know what happened.

Would you like a nice lolly?

Sorry, Sabina.

You wanted a camel ride, didn't you?

Yes, you did.

Come along.

Come back to the elephants later, I
promise. Come on.

There's never any good with children or
animals.

I realised I'd lost the earring when I
got home.

I was in such a panic.

Why did you go and see him in the first
place?

I wanted to confront him as I had Dr.
Kerridge.

I just couldn't understand how someone
who'd been so close to me as Alex could

have treated me that way, robbing me of
both my job and my reputation.

You'd already threatened to expose Alex.
Why didn't you?

Because I still loved him, I suppose.

So you went to see him.

How did you get into the lodgings?

I sent him a note at the high table
saying I was waiting for him.

He came as soon as he could get away.

You know?

He can be very persuasive, you know.

I know.

Do you?

He persuaded you into bed.

What else did he persuade you of?

That if I was a good girl and kept my
mouth shut, we could carry on just as

before. And he'd help me with my career.

And if he didn't?

I asked that.

He said that it was up to me if I made
the wrong choice.

It would be very sad for both of us.

What do you think he meant?

The tone of his voice.

It made me go cold all over.

He was threatening you?

Letting me know how easily he could
destroy me if he chose.

So then what happened?

We went to get some more champagne.

To celebrate. I don't know.

In the study.

I stayed in the bedroom.

Then I heard a couple of pops.

Like champagne corks exploding.

Then a cry.

I came out and there he was.

You saw nobody else?

The door closed.

I froze.

Then I ran to put on my clothes and got
out as quickly as I could.

You could have reported it to the
police, Miss Burns.

I thought about it. And then I thought,
I'm the obvious suspect. I haven't an

alibi or any witnesses.

I just couldn't...

You can understand that, can't you?

But Sir Dryseld could still be armed.

There'll be no need for guns.

Well, he managed to kill Rhys with one,
which he must have kept from his wartime

days in the SOE.

According to the War Museum, they were
received with well rods.

It may look like a kid's pop gun, but
it's lethal.

Come on, let's pick him up.

He's not going to kill anymore.

He can never tell, sir.

Sometimes they get a taste for it. And
after three minutes... I know the man,

Lewis. He thinks of himself as a man of
virtue.

His disease has turned him into a
lunatic. It's in the best classical

Lewis. The man of virtue puts right the
wrongs that have been done to him.

Meaning? You got old Ben.

To spill what everybody knew except us,
that in the dim and distant past,

Ballarat ran off with Drysdale's wife.

You mean revenge? The oldest motive of
all.

Why kill Rhys?

Because he pipped Drysdale for the
Sheldon Lectureship, ended up master.

And Dr Carriage had been an enemy for
years?

Which leaves only one to conquer.

The police? No, Lewis. The last enemy
that shall be destroyed is death.

Death? The New Testament.

My school assemblies were multicultural.

But I still don't understand how you can
destroy... To the classical mind, the

way to conquer death is to become an
Olympian, a hero who spends the

being fated by the gods.

How do you manage that, sir?

Well, the best route to heroism is via
valiant deeds.

Killing people isn't very valiant, is
it?

It is to a deranged mind.

You're agreeing with me, then? You think
he's a nutter.

Cancer of the brain, according to the
best available medical advice... Would

that be Dr Russell, sir?

Cancer of the brain can lead to profound
character changes.

Trivial flights of a lifetime can assume
gigantic proportions.

That's surely why we should protect
ourselves.

How do we know he's in the college,
anyway?

When a man's lived there for most of his
adult life, where else would he go to

die?

Drysdale? Look at the mess you made me
make.

It's a man.

Good. This is Chief Inspector Morse.

Where's Mr Drysdale?

You just missed him by two minutes, sir.

He only showed up this morning.

Very peculiar state he was.

How will you recognize him, sir? It has
been a few years, and if he's ill...

Once you are taken to the universe, it
is bosom, Lewis.

You're preserved like sleeping beauty in
a rarefied atmosphere of hot air and

alcohol.

Aging is unknown.

Not that Drysdale was ever young.

There he is.

Mr. Drysdale!

Mr. Drysdale!

Mr. Dry's down!

Like Laius on the road to Thebes.

I don't suppose you remember much of
your Greek.

Eh, Morse?

Where Oedipus killed his father.

Send for an ambulance, will you, Lewis?
Right.

I've led him down the nights and down
the days.

I've led him down the arches of the
years.

I've led him down the labyrinthine ways
of my own mind.

midst of tears I hid from him, and under
running

laughter.

But with an hurrying chase, an
unperturbed pace, deliberate speed,

majestic instancy, they beat, and a
voice beat more instant

than the feet.

All things betray thee who betrayest me.

Maybe I was a murderer, having no
scholarship taken away.

I wondered if you'd remember.

Cancer hasn't got to my memory, you
know.

If you'd done any work at all, you could
have got a first.

I doubt it.

I have a good memory, but a prosaic
mind.

Perfect qualifications.

For a policeman, you mean?

Well, a junior fellow.

Where did your work go to pieces?

I suppose it was a woman.

Here.

Where do you think you're going?

He needs his plant, sir.

Cheer him up.

Cheer him up?

He's not just getting over a hernia
operation, you know. He's being charged

murder. It'll never come to court,
though, will it?

I mean, he's not going to live that
long, is he?

Maybe not, but I'm not letting you...
Let him have it.

What harm can he do?

I'll see what I can do. Off you go.

Can we talk about Ballarat?

Not a man to be trusted.

Not with anything.

How did you get him to carriage his
flat?

Simple. His vanity.

Ah.

You wrote him the same sort of letter
you wrote to carriage about appearing on

television. I'm told there are some
people who would kill to get before the

cameras.

Man was an appropriate way of turning
the tables, don't you think?

And you cut up the body?

Yes, wonderful invention, the axle.

Remarkably cheap, remarkably efficient,
and simple to use.

There must have been quite a mass.

To cleanse the Ordean stables, Hercules
diverted the river Alpheus.

I may do his plastic sheeting in a J
-cloth. And you went to all that trouble

order to delay detection until you
disposed of the rest of your victims.

The Hound of Heaven could not be
deprived of its quarry.

Why bother taking the bits all the way
to Thrup?

He could perfectly well have implicated
Carriage by letting the corpse be

discovered in his flat.

So true.

I didn't want him to discover anything
untoward.

I hoped to kill him when he least
expected it.

You thought Carriage had blackened your
name to the College Council in order to

get them to vote him in as Sheldon
Lecturer.

He thought the same about you.

In the event, Rhys got the job.

But you and Kerridge became implacable
enemies.

That's why you killed him.

Well, Cecilia, that has much to commend
it.

Unfortunately, your conclusion's a
false.

Oh, I tried.

I waited in his flat.

And when he finally succeeded in shaking
off that tarsum...

Miss Burns, I went to him.

I would have shot him, but I had only
four bullets left, some of which might

have been duds. And you wanted to be
sure of a bullet for race.

That man was a cronus morse, devouring
anyone who might conceivably threaten

him.

He achieved dubious eminence by
destroying my good name and that of

whom you destroyed by bashing in his
skull.

I did no such thing.

I attempted to strangle him, but failed.

Dr. Kerry, we are trying to master the
bleater.

I lay in wait until he emerged from his
flat, showed him my gun, got him to

unlock the gate to the garden where I
intended to dispose of him.

Why didn't you?

Because he convinced me that it was not
he who'd slandered my name to the

college council.

Which, as you correctly stated, was my
assumption.

Never let it be said, I am deaf to
persuasion.

So it must have been Rees.

That was my inevitable, if I may say so,
correct conclusion.

And Rees who killed him.

Because of his overweening ambition, he
couldn't bear to be exposed as a

plagiarist and a liar.

I rather doubt Kelly should have gone so
far.

He was rather fond of a quiet life, as
it was to be denied him.

Never owned a man a trumpet sounds from
the hid battlements of eternity.

And fondly you made the trumpet sound
for Rhys.

Who do you deny that he deserved it?

My days have crackled and gone up in

smoke, have puffed and burst like sudden
starts on a stream.

Eh, failure's love.

Even dream, the dreamer.

And the lute, the lutenist.

Thank you, Mr. Drysdale.

I thought the chief superintendent was
quite generous, didn't you, sir?

Considering you got it right about Rhys
when he warned you off. You got it quite

right, Lewis, not in the academic sense.

We're not academic, though, are we, sir?

Thank goodness.

More.

Um, do you believe in birthdays?

Well, do I have a choice?

Well, it's my birthday today, and I've
no one to celebrate with.

What about that drink? My dear,
Grayling, I... Well, Sergeant Lewis

that you're a great connoisseur of
country pubs.

Will you take me to one?

As a treat?

I'll pick you up at seven.

Thanks. Hold on a minute.

Happy birthday.

You shouldn't have.

school together.

Chief Inspector Morse, one of my
colleagues.

What are you doing here?

Birthday weekend.

Your office told me where to find you.

Can I get you a drink, Sam?

Oh, great, thanks. Half a lager.

Grayling? Oh, thanks, I'm fine.

raised.