All language subtitles for 10. The Dream

And last year, Farley's Foods produced
five million of them.

Everything from steak and kidney to
Cornish pasties. But that's not enough

old man Farley. He wants to double the
score.

Work's been pushing ahead on the new
extension to his factory.

And this week, the great day dawned.

My friends, I hope I may call you my
friends.

After all, I pay your wages.

In 1935, we sold...

you call me yesterday?

You mustn't come here.

I've got to see you.

It's no good, Joanna.

Oh, it isn't. What do you mean?

I've been given two weeks' notice.

By my father?

Well, not directly, but yes.

Why? Because he's found out about us, of
course.

I'd like to think there has been a
partnership.

A partnership between the Farley family
and we humble mortals

in the municipality.

There are other jobs, Herbert.

With your father's bad opinion following
me wherever I go.

I could kill him. I could really kill
him.

Something like that doesn't do any good.

And now, it gives me great pleasure to
declare this new wing

well and truly open.

Father. This is your chance.

What? This is your chance to invest in a
pair of home -fit real leather shoes.

That's clever.

Fits, but with a P -H.

Just return this card and our
representatives will call on you.

Made to measure shoes, apparently.

Seem all pretty reasonable.

Don't suppose they've any made -to
-measure typewriters in there, have

Type?

Ever since last Easter, I've been asking
Mr. Porrow for a new typewriter.

Mr. Porrow isn't mean, but he is
careful.

We found this typewriter in the flat
when we moved in.

Someone had left it.

Jolly useful.

Benedict Farley. No idea.

Oh, isn't he Farley's pies?

Pies?

Why?

Dear sir.

Mr. Benedict Farley would like to have
the benefit of your advice.

If convenient to yourself, he would be
glad if you would call upon him at the

above address at 9 .30 tomorrow Thursday
evening.

Yours truly, Hugo Cornworthy, Secretary.

P .S. Please bring this letter with you.

Repeat that, if you please, Hastings.

Dear sir... No, no, no.

Just the postscript.

P .S.

Please bring this letter with you.

Why?

Why?

Why, Hastings?

An interesting letter.

Is it?

I thought it was rather dull.

Miss Lemon says he makes pies.

Makes pies?

Hastings, to say that Benedict Farley
makes pies is like saying that Wagner

wrote semiquavers.

They're very good pies, are they?

No, horrible.

But there are a great many of them.

The Fonz and Origo of Benedict Farley's
wealth, I surmise, eh?

And that, Hastings, is where he makes
his sausages, his pies, his ham.

Useful, eh? Living above the shop.

I suppose from here, Farley likes to
keep an eye on his employees.

No doubt.

But it is a pity that such diligence
does not improve the quality of his so

-called delectables.

Good evening, sir.

Monsieur Poirot and Captain Hastings. To
see Mr. Farley.

I'm sorry, sir. I was instructed to
admit only one.

Oh, come now.

I was instructed most positively, sir.

I'm sorry.

You know this is most inconvenient.

You'll excuse me, sir. I was told to ask
for a letter.

Pardon?

Oh, yes.

Thank you, sir.

The gentleman you are expecting, sir.

Oh.

You're Hercule Poirot, eh?

Monsieur? Sit down.

Sit down!

Merci, monsieur.

Monsieur?

What is it that you wish to concern me
about, Monsieur Follet?

I have the same dream night after night.

I'm sitting in my room next to this,
sitting at my desk writing.

There's a clock in there.

I look up at it.

I see the time.

It is exactly 28 minutes past 12. Always
the same time.

You understand?

When I see the time, Poirot, I know I've
got to do it.

At 28 minutes past 12, I open the second
drawer down.

On the right of my desk, I take out a
revolver.

I load it.

Then I go over to the window.

And then... I shoot myself.

I just lift the gun to my head and shoot

myself.

What do you make of that?

I've already consulted a specialist in
Harley Street.

And what does this specialist tell you?

He was preposterous.

He asserted my life is so unbearable to
me, I deliberately want to end it.

He is a fool.

Why should I want to kill myself? One of
the richest men in the country. I have

everything I could possibly want.

I am a happy man.

So where do I come in, Monsieur Farley?

supposing someone wants to kill me,
could they do it this way?

Hypnotism, you mean?

You see what I'm getting at.

Who is it that you suspect of wanting to
kill you, monsieur?

Nobody. Nobody at all.

You had no one specific in mind?

Certainly not.

I should like to see the scene of this
drama.

The desk, the clock, the revolver. No.

I've told you all there is to tell.
There's nothing to see next door.

Nevertheless, I should like to see for
myself. There is no need.

I just want your opinion.

But I can hardly have an opinion on such
skimpy evidence.

There's an end of it then.

I've told you the facts. You can't make
anything of it.

That closes the matter.

You can send me in your fill for a
consultation fee.

I shall not fail to do so.

Wait.

That letter.

I want it.

The letter from your secretary?

Oh, a thousand pardons, monsieur.

What? I have committed a folly, eh?

The letter I handed you just now, it was
a letter from my landlord.

This is your letter.

How'd you get on in there?

Not well, I'm afraid.

There is something wrong in that house,
Hastings.

Badly wrong.

And I haven't the faintest idea what it
is.

Get off, boy. I want these documents and
let them all street by one o 'clock.

Well, go on, then.

Run!

Uh, excuse me, sir.

Mr. Cornworthy said you might spare us a
moment.

Huh?

What's going on?

12 o 'clock, he said. Right, all right.

He's a very busy man.

Now let's just sit down.

Mr. Cornworthy?

Mr. Tremlett?

You're still here?

We've been here an hour, nearly.

Over an hour.

Well, I'll go and see what he's up to.

He's got to sign these anyway.

Bloody nerve.

That's our dinner hour gone, I know
that.

He'll see us now.

like this, Mr. Poirot.

That machine is more than flesh and
blood can stand.

But you have never complained before.

I've done nothing but complain for the
last six months.

No. It has been mentioned, Poirot.

Kindly do not band together against
Poirot.

I wasn't.

Do I not do my best to keep us all
happy?

I don't want to be happy. I just want
you to... Poirot.

Ah, Inspector Japp, my old friend.

I'm at Northway House, Poirot, Benedict
Farley's place.

I'd like you to come over here, if you'd
be so kind.

Mr. Farley has shot himself.

Most peculiar story I ever heard. I've
never heard such poppycock. Father, I

have no use for dreams and such rubbish.

Nevertheless, that is what he told me.

Yes, he mentioned it to me.

It upset him very much.

Told him it was indigestion, I'm afraid.

I suggested his calling in Dr.
Stillingfleet.

He never did.

From Mr. Poirot's story, I gather he
went to Harley Street.

Yes, he told me he consulted a
specialist.

But is it known who this specialist was?

None of us had any idea that he'd
consulted anyone.

And he never spoke to you about the
dream?

No.

And you, Monsieur Conworthy?

No, he said nothing about it at all.

I took down a letter to you at his
dictation, but I have no idea why he

to consult you.

I thought it might have something to do
with some business irregularity.

I see.

Inspector Jabb, can you tell me the
events leading up to the death of Mr.

Benedict Farley?

Well, Mr. Farley had agreed to see two
representatives from the works.

a proposal for forming a union.

Some hopes.

Yes, quite so.

A little before one o 'clock, Mr.

Cornworthy here came out of his room and
went into Mr. Farley.

He couldn't see him at first and thought
the room was empty.

Then he caught sight of a boot sticking
out from behind a desk.

And what happens then?

I ran out of the room and I told the
butler to call Dr. Stillingfleet and...

The

body

was found down there.

Thank you.

At what time did he die, Doctor?

I examined the body at 32 minutes past
one. Mr. Farley had been dead at least

one hour. So he could have died at this
12 .28 he told you about.

Precisely.

Were there any fingerprints on the
revolver?

Only his own.

And please tell me about the revolver
itself.

Well, it was the one he kept in the
drawer of his desk.

Again, just as he told you.

Mrs. Farley has identified it
positively.

I see.

What's more, that's the only entrance to
the room.

Well, apart from the windows, I suppose.

I cannot see how anybody could climb up
there.

It's a funny room for a rich man to
choose his study, isn't it?

With that great ugly blank wall right
outside.

I think it is important, that wall.

You mean psychologically?

Perhaps.

At 28 minutes past 12, I open the second
drawer down on the right of my

desk.

I take out a revolver, load it,

I go over to the window.

And then... And then I shoot

myself.

I just leave the gun to my...

I should not have thought that there is
any reason for you to doubt the accuracy

of the dream's prediction, Inspector.

In fact, there is every reason to
suggest that Benedict Farley committed

suicide. Well, there would have been no
doubt about it at all.

But for one point... And what was that?

A letter written to you.

Ah, I see.

So where Hercule Poirot is concerned,
there arises immediately the suspicion

Mother?

Precisely.

We change.

Hello, Monsieur Poirot.

Fancy your chances.

No, no, no. Thank you very much,
mademoiselle. But essentially, Hercule

is a man of peace.

But perhaps, though, I could ask you a
few questions.

Ask away.

Did you know that your father kept a
revolver in his desk?

No.

Where were you and your mother?

Pardon,

that is to say, your stepmother.

That is correct?

Yes, Louise is my father's second wife.

She's only eight years older than I am.

So where were you and she on Thursday
night of last week?

Thursday. We went to the theatre to see
Thumbs Up.

Your father did not suggest accompanying
you?

He never went out to theatres.

He was not a very sociable man?

My father had a singularly unpleasant
personality.

That is a very candid statement,
mademoiselle.

I'm saving you time, monsieur Poirot.

I realize quite well what you're getting
at.

I live here because I have no money to
live elsewhere.

There is a man that I wish to marry.

A poor man.

My father saw to it that he lost his
job.

He wanted me, you see, to marry well. An
easy matter since I was his heiress.

So your father's fortune passes to you?

Yes. Well, that is to say, he left
Louise, my stepmother, a quarter of a

free of tax, and there are other few
small legacies, but the residue of it

to me.

So you see, Monsieur Poirot, I had every
reason to desire my father's death.

I see also, mademoiselle, that you have
inherited your father's intelligence.

My father was clever, but it had all
turned sour.

There was no humanity left.

Is there anything more?

Yes.

How poor was your father's eyesight?

He could scarcely see at all, and not
without his glasses.

His sight had always been bad from a
boy.

Between his glasses?

Oh, he could see all right then, of
course.

Thank you.

All right, Constable, tell Sergeant Ball
this is going to take longer than

expected. Aye, sir.

Ah, Mrs. Farley.

Something I'd like to ask you.

Yes? Had your husband ever been
hypnotist?

Never, to my knowledge.

Was he interested in that sort of thing,
hypnotism? No.

Oh, that horrible dream.

It's uncanny.

To dream that same awful dream night
after night.

It's as though he were hounded to his
death.

Had it ever occurred to you that your
husband might be tempted to do away with

himself? No.

Well... Sometimes he was rather queer.

Father was far too fond of himself to
commit suicide.

You don't know everything, Joanna. I
know that much.

Pardon, Madame Fally.

How many pairs of glasses did your
husband own?

Glasses? Well, spectacles.

I've no idea. Three, four?

Ah.

Thank you.

Ah, mon dieu.

How different this room looks in
daylight.

Can I do something for you?

Ah, and I see, monsieur, that you share
the same inspiring view as your late

employer. Oh, yes.

On the other side of that wall are the
fools who made Mr. Farley's wealth for

him.

I think that's why he chose to have his
study this side of the house.

You know, I feel sure if that wolf could
talk, it would tell us something, no?

Monsieur Conworthy, when I arrived last
Thursday evening, I was not shown into

Monsieur Farley's own room.

No.

I was told to tell Holmes to show you in
here.

Why was that, do you think?

I never questioned any of Mr. Farley's
orders.

Did he usually receive the visitors in
here?

Quite often.

Particularly if people hadn't come to
the house before.

of Benedict Farley is very important.

He dreamed, he said, of committing
suicide.

And later on, he did commit suicide.

And when I say suicide, he was alone in
his room and was found with a gun in his

hand.

And no one entered or left the room at
the time he was shot. So what does this

mean, Chief Inspector?

Well, that there's no other possibility
that he must be suicidal.

Au contraire.

It means a very unusual... And very
cleverly planned murder.

Planned how?

Planned by who?

It is no good easy, Chief Inspector, if
I just give you the answer.

Well... No.

We must give the little gray cells time
to do their work.

And give Poirot time to work out who did
it and how.

This is not like you, Poirot.

But this is not like the grey cells
listings.

I have given them every chance.

They have been cosseted.

I have slept to allow them to do their
work.

I have eaten fish for breakfast.

Result, nothing.

It'll come, Poirot.

The little grey cells have never let you
down yet.

But is this not an indication, perhaps,
of what is in store?

A sign that they are weakened by old
age?

And the fast living?

Fast living, Poirot?

I wouldn't call your life exactly fast.

Not now, perhaps, Hastings, but in my
youth.

Really?

Really.

You see, one pays, Hastings.

Eventually, one is called to settle
one's account.

I shall have another.

Mr.

Poirot, I... What is it, Mr. Poirot?

Another tea, son, if you please, Miss
Lemon.

Oh, dear.

You had your nine o 'clock one.

Serious measures are called for, Miss
Lemon.

Do you have the time, please, Miss
Lemon?

Of course, Mr. Paragon.

What are you doing, Miss Lemon?

It's five to ten, Mr. Poirot.

But what were you doing out there?

If I lean right out, I can just see the
church clock.

But wouldn't it be simpler to wear the
watch?

I can't, Mr. Poirot. My magnetism upsets
me.

Oh, I'm sorry.

All my life I've been looking for a
watch that won't go wild as soon as I

on, but I've never managed.

Whatever is the matter, Mr. Poirot?

Miss Lynn, you are beautiful.

Now... Would you please be so kind as to
telephone the chief inspector's chap

and ask him to assemble the whole Farley
household at noon.

In the hall, huh?

Come, Hastings, we have work to do.

All has become clear.

Then, they're brought in here from the
pastry room and loaded into the ovens.

The ovens have got to be sealed and
closed by 12 .15 because we start the

at 12 .30 sharp.

If, after we hadn't done that, Mr.

Farley was on the telephone quicker than
you could say three little piggies.

Did he come regularly to the factory?

Oh, no.

No, he hadn't done that for, uh, ooh,
six or seven years.

Well, not regularly.

But he seemed to know if we hadn't
started the bake on time.

In the office, we used to say he had
second sight as far as a port -by was

concerned. Well, that was just by way of
a joke.

Then, um...

After the bake, which takes about an
hour and a half, we take them out of the

oven and then they go down the floor.

Now remember what I told you.

Yes. Is it loaded?

Oh, yes.

Here it comes.

Bonjour.

I wonder what is the most extraordinary
thing about this case?

Well, the dream, I'd say.

If we hadn't got your word for it,
Poirot... Exactement! The telling of the

dream was vital.

But, mes amis, there is more to it than
that.

Where did this telling of the dream take
place?

Monsieur Benedict Farley received me
here in his secretary's room and refused

point -blank to let me see into his own
room just a few feet away.

Why did he do that, huh?

Because there was something in that room
he could not afford to have me see.

What? We will come to that.

When Monsieur Benedict Farley asked me
to return his letter to him, by

inadvertence I handed to him the
correspondence from my landlord.

One glance should have told him it was a
wrong letter.

Didn't he have his glasses on? Oh, yes,
he had on his glasses.

So why did Monsieur Benedict Farley not
realize the difference between two

totally dissimilar letters?

Because, mes amis, I was in the company
of a man with normal eyesight wearing

powerful glasses.

And such powerful glasses would render a
man of normal eyesight practically

blind. Is that not so, Doctor?

If they were very powerful spectacles,
yes.

Eh bien!

So why was I not allowed to go into
Monsieur Benedict Farley's room that

What was in Monsieur Benedict Farley's
room that I was not allowed to see?

Mesdames et messieurs, shall I enlighten
you?

I wish you would, Poirot.

Very well.

Poirot shall enlighten you.

What was in Monsieur Benedict Farley's
own room that Monsieur Benedict Farley

did not allow me to see was... Monsieur
Benedict Farley.

Good God.

Yesterday afternoon, there are three
witnesses to swear

that no one comes in or out of Monsieur
Benedict Farley's room.

Monsieur Cornworthy is in his room next
door, and as 12 .28 approaches, he

readies himself.

You see, Monsieur Cornworthy knows
something that very

few other people know.

He knows that Monsieur Benedict Farley,
every day, after all these years, still

interested in the day -to -day running
of his factory, checks up on his

employees.

Let us see how he does this.

How can this king of pies observe his
workers without ever leaving this house,

huh?

Simple.

You see, the uninviting delicacy is
first steamed for one hour before it is

baked. And the release valves and the
vast ovens which are situated beyond

wall are briefly tested as soon as the
ovens are loaded.

Eh bien, if one leans out of this
window, one can readily confirm this

Now, if you please, I want you all to
come to these two windows, lean out and

look to your right.

Monsieur Conrad, why don't you lead the
way?

This is nonsense.

Perhaps.

But you, mommy?

Merci. Alors, viens, viens, viens.

Madame Farley?

Oh, very well.

Now, one can readily see that spurt of
steam issuing from the chimney or pipe

the eastern end of the building. Voilà.

All the same, I don't see where that
gets us.

Monsieur Farley comes to the window.

Yes? He leans out to make sure that the
bake is starting on time.

All right.

And then...

Monsieur

Conworthy shoots him and Farley falls to
the floor.

Remember, there is a blank wall opposite
so there can be no witnesses.

Lies. Ridiculous lies. All has the
appearance of being above the board,

Monsieur Tremlett and the other men
see...

Monsieur Cornworthy go into Monsieur
Farley's room, but rush out again with

announcement of Monsieur Farley's
suicide. What they do not, of course,

Monsieur Cornworthy press the gun into
Monsieur Farley's hand.

Slanderous rubbish.

It was Monsieur Cornworthy who wrote to
me the letter.

Monsieur Cornworthy who gave
instructions to the butler.

It was he who went up to his bedroom,
applied the make -up.

and played the part of Benedict Farley.

But there were two people who carried
through this fraud.

Monsieur Conworthy was one, and the
other, Madame Farley.

How dare you!

In due course, the happy ending would
have been achieved.

A quarter of a million pounds and two
hearts that beat as one.

Gunter! That's Herbert.

I've come to elope. It's still on, is
it?

Well, it's not, strictly speaking,
necessary anymore.

Oh.

Well, we could do it anyway, though.

If you like.

Yes.

What shall I do with him?

I'll deal with him, sir. Thank you very
much.

Au revoir, Madame Farley.

You foreigner.

Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon.

Can I assist you in any way, sir? Thank
you. Thank you.

I'll give you a breather with that. No,
no, no, no. Thank you, Miss.

I'm sure I can manage the last five
paces.

Mr. Poirot, let me help you. No, no, no,
no, Miss Lemon.

This is for you.

Oh, Mr. Poirot, you shouldn't have.

No, no, no, no, no, no, Miss Lemon.

It stinks if you please the knife.

Merci.

He meant them all.

Voila!

What do you think, Miss Levin?

It's... Wonderful, right?

It's... Now we shall have no more
leaning dangerously out of the window

to tell the time, yes?

It's just what I wanted.

Hastings, there are two reasons why I
should never become the millionaire.

What are they, Poirot?

The first, that I should never make the
detestable pork pies.

And the second, I am too understanding
towards my

employees.