All language subtitles for 05 - The Tragedy at Marsdon Manor

Jack!

I'm here, darling. I'm here. It's all
right, Susan.

I just stumbled.

You shouldn't be out here.

You know what Dr. Bernard said?

So soon after the operation. Yes, I know
what Dr. Bernard said.

Stay inside.

Get plenty of sleep.

Well, that may be good advice for a
tortoise, Susan, but not for... Oh!

Damn this infernal ulcer.

Darling, you're still weak.

It'll mend itself.

It just takes time.

You've just got to learn to be patient.

It's up there again.

That face.

You heard it that time, Jack.

Don't tell me you didn't hear it.

That mad, horrible cackling.

She was up there.

Up there like before.

Well, this is it.

What was his name again?

Norton. Samuel James Norton. Welcome to
my hotel. This is the greatest day of my

life. Let me take your bags. Thank you,
Mr. Norton. We received your letter this

morning, and as you see, we came
straight here. I've got two of my best

already in waiting for you, gentlemen.

Thank you, Mr. Norton. Now, in your
letter, you state that the three farm

workers have been poisoned, the syringe
of the doctor has gone missing, and that

it is only I, Hercule Poirot, who can
solve the mystery.

That's right, sir. But there's plenty of
time.

How about a nice pot of tea first?

Oh, that's very kind. You don't do
sandwiches at all. Monsieur Norton, in a

matter of murder, there is never the
time to lose.

The facts of this case, if you please.

Right you are, sir. It's all here.

The first 200 pages, anyway.

The Needle in the Haystack?

A new murder mystery by Clarissa Norton?

I use a woman's name. Seems to help them
sell better. It's a corker of a plot,

only I've got myself into a bit of a
stew with the ending, so I thought I'd

him a line.

Perhaps he'll come and sort it out for
me. So I said to my wife, you can but

ask.

And blow me down, here you are.

I did mention it was a book in the
letter.

Oh, mon dieu, sacré alors.

125 miles, Hastings. We come on the wild
gooseberry hunt. And now we have missed

our last train and we cannot leave until
the morning.

Sacré. Cheer up, Poirot.

Only thing to do is a while away.

I say, that looks like fun.

Come on, Poirot.

Genuine death masks of local murderers.

This is interesting.

Apparently they got them by taking
actual wax impressions of the killer's

after that execution.

Pretty grisly stuff, eh?

Well, I find it most curious, Hastings,
this English passion for perusing a

collection of the glorified scarecrows.

So far, I have not seen one likeness
that is truly accurate.

Hastings?

Sir, we've just closed in.

I'll have to ask you to leave.

Are you coming here?

Locking up time, I'm afraid. Yes, but...
This way, please, sir.

Sir?

Never quite as realistic in the flesh,
somehow, are they?

Well, I don't think there's any serious
damage, but for goodness sake, be more

careful, Jonathan.

You know, these things can perforate.

It's not just a question of diet.

Any stress or exertion is strictly
taboo.

Instances of post -operative erosion...
All right, thank you, Geoffrey. Here

endeth the lesson.

Now, why don't you join us for dinner?

Will you be wanting a table in the
restaurant at all? We do stop serving at

nine. Thanks.

I'm actually here to see some friends.

I'll be dining with them tonight, up at
Martin Mellor. Oh, yes, I know it, sir.

Well, have a good evening.

Mr. Poirot, have you worked it all out
now, my whodunit?

No, Monsieur Norton, I do not give
another thought to your whodunit.

The brain of Hercule Poirot is like a
finely tuned engine of the motor car.

It does not run on the cheap, low -grade
fuel.

Not to worry.

I'll give you something to read in bed.
I'll just get your key for you.

Oh.

Someone just back from Africa?

No, actually.

It's more pleasant with someone.

If you'll excuse me.

Monsieur?

I picked it up in one of the markets.

It was rather well done.

Something another artist would
appreciate.

It's actually supposed to be some sort
of talisman.

You know, evil spirits of the departed
and all that hokum.

I'm sorry, have I said something?

I don't think you've met Geoffrey
Bernard, my medic.

This is Captain Black, an old family
friend just over from East Africa.

Oh, really?

Where were you stationed?

Kenya, near Lake Victoria.

Shall we go in, darling? Doctor?

Hmm.

We're just about to have dinner, Miss
Rawlinson. Won't you join us?

Thank you, Mr Maltrevers.

The books are still in a bit of a mess,
I'm afraid.

Well, perhaps you could join us later.

It's as though she's mocking me.

And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

As if I completely imagined it all.

So let me get this clear.

What do you think of, out there in the
garden, there's the ghost of a dead girl

up in a tree?

Well, the story is that 50 or so years
ago, a young teenage girl killed herself

here in these grounds.

If you've been jilted by a lover or some
such thing.

Anyway, she climbed to the top of that
massive cedar out there and... threw

herself off.

And over the years, people in the
village have... Well, you know how these

superstitions take root.

In my experience of these cases, a lot
of it's auto -suggestive.

People believe that they've witnessed
some sort of paranormal... Dr. Bernard,

know what I saw.

I'm just off to the bank now, then. I'll
see you later.

Danvers, it's a chilly morning.

That's it.

Finally, throughout the United Kingdom,
preparations are nearing completion for

the national civil defense exercise
called by His Majesty's government for

Wednesday. The Prime Minister, Mr.
Baldwin... Ah, horror.

Sleep well?

Like the top, I think.

I am turning and spinning all of the
night. And then, at three o 'clock in

morning, here now, the ultimate
desperation.

Ah, Monsieur Norton, this really is
incroyable.

There is such a tangle of the confused
threads, I admit surrender.

Everyone has the alibi that he's
unbreakable.

Who could possibly have committed the
murders?

I know. That's what stumped me.

I seem to have backed myself into a
corner this time and I can't get out.

Not to worry.

Was the accommodation all right?

No, Monsieur Norton.

The accommodation was all wrong.

The duck feather pillows.

It feels as if the duck are stealing
them.

Looks as if Captain Black didn't enjoy
his stay much either.

Go on.

Booked in for a full week last night,
paid up in advance, and now this morning

he's gone.

Perhaps he was frightened away by
ghosts.

Now then, breakfast.

How about a nice kipper? They're fresh
today.

My tea, sir.

Two slices of bread, toasted on one side
only, if you please.

Ghosts, did you say?

Oh, yes. Haunted house, Marsden Manor,
where he went last night.

They say it's full of them.

You have seen them yourself?

Well, no, not personally. I haven't, of
course.

How do you know they are fresh?

Sorry?

The kippahs.

Oh, yes.

They're fresh, all right. We get them
delivered twice a week from Grimsby.

So it is the place of the untold evil,
crawling with the spirits of the living

dead.

Grimsby?

Mastered manner.

Monsieur Norton, my breakfast, if you
please. We both have the urgent train to

catch.

Is Mr. Maltravers still outside?

I need to have a word with him.

I suppose you must be.

Is it 11 already?

He's usually come in for his pills by
now.

Madam!

It's Mr.

Mountravers! I think you'd better come,
quick!

Move along. What is it, darling?

Emergency.

Check yourselves.

Allez, allez.

Don't you come back, matey. You just
move back.

Don?

Isn't that Herr Corfuaro? Right on our
doorstep.

Nothing's been touched, sir. That's just
how I found him. Thank you.

The doctor warned us all it could
happen.

That wretched ulcer could rupture, cause
internal bleeding.

He must have choked on the blood.

If only he'd listened, taken a little
advice.

Fate can be so cruel at times.

You say that you discovered the body at
11.

Now, before this, when was the last time
that you saw him alive, your employer?

About half past nine.

He'd just plonked himself on the old
stone seat by the edge.

He often went there for a little snooze
after breakfast.

The stone seat?

His poor young wife.

So heartbreaking.

I hadn't even been married two years.

Excuse me, officer.

Met at one of them society parties up in
London.

Real whirlwind romance.

If ever two people were in love.

And the other lady?

Miss Rawlinson?

Oh, she goes back a lot longer.

She'd been a secretary, oh, must have
been 20 years.

Well, a secretary.

She practically ran his affairs for him.

He wasn't the most organised of
gentlemen.

Terrible sight, though.

Something about that look in his eyes.

Almost as if he'd seen a ghost.

Yes.

Come along, my dear. Take one of these.

Eh bien, regardons, regardons.

Ah,

voilà.

What have you found?

What I was looking for.

I don't see anything.

Oh, look at that.

Un moment, un moment.

Qu 'est -ce que c 'est?

There are more.

Looking puzzled, Poirot?

Can't see your problem.

Poor chap had a stomach condition.

You heard what the ambulance man said.

Internal hemorrhage.

Plain as day. Caused him to choke to
death. There's certain more hastings.

is the conclusion most obvious.

But perhaps it is too obvious.

You noticed, of course, the faint ridges
in the grass.

Ridges? And you cannot afford to notice
the mud across the back of his shoes.

You put those two facts together,
Hastings.

And you reach the conclusion that is
most disturbing.

The body of the dead man was dragged
physically from the stone seat to the

of the tree.

Good Lord.

I think it is time that we telephone the
Chief Inspector Japp at Scotland Yard.

We're in the south of France.

Two months ago.

That's when it got really bad.

We had to cut short our holiday.

Rush back so they could operate.

They said so long as you rested, took
things easy, there was every chance

make a full recovery.

But you couldn't keep Jack indoors like
that all day long.

He'd suffocate, go mad.

My dear, do you think it's what... It
was her.

I know it.

She killed him.

She? Madame Maltravers?

I think it would be best if you all left
now.

She's still in a state of shock. Up
there.

In the tree.

That awful, laughing woman.

That's what he saw.

That's what...

Frightened him to death.

Life insurance policy, Poirot.

£50 ,000.

That is indeed a great amount of money,
Chief Inspector.

Ask yourself, Poirot.

Man insures his life for a hefty sum
like this.

His health takes a sudden turn for the
worse.

It becomes a burden on his poor young
wife.

He might decide life's not worth living
anymore.

He's more used to her dead than her
life.

Suicide?

Insurance fraud.

It's certainly worth considering.

Well, the boys from the insurance
company have been doing their homework.

And it seems that our Mr. Maltravers'
business affairs have been going through

rather a sticky patch of late.

As things stood when he died, he was on
the verge of bankruptcy.

No, no, no, no, merci.

Now, that would give him a pretty
powerful motive to engineer his own

off his debts, and make sure Mrs.

Maltravers was left well provided for.
Tell me, Chief Inspector, how is Mr.

Maltravers supposed to have taken his
life?

when there are no signs of the violence,
no injuries of any kind on the outside,

and there is no poison that can fill the
mouth of a man with the blood.

Presumably the post -mortem will tell us
if it was the Arthur.

Yes, that'll take a couple of days yet.
We've got to get a pathologist over from

Norwich. And, of course, we mustn't
forget Captain Black.

Now, he left in a bit of a hurry.

I hope you've got your lads on the
lookout for him, Chief, instead. Yes, we

circulated a full description of all the
major seaports.

Although, of course, it's not really
the...

You seem to know a lot about all this,
sir. Crime and detection, Chief

Inspector, are a special hobby of mine,
as Mr. Poirot here will tell you.

Now, I've drawn up a little list of the
principal suspects that I think you'll

find very useful.

Thank you.

Monsieur Norton, perhaps you would
oblige us with a little more of your

illustrious applesauce.

Certainly.

I reckon that if it wasn't suicide and
it wasn't natural causes... Surely you

don't believe all this hogwash about
ghosts and haunted trees.

I believe, mon ami, that there is at
work here some great evil.

In what shape or form, we shall soon
discover.

Sometimes they walk in their sleep, no?

And like the misdeeds of the past, they
return to haunt us.

You think I'm mad?

Out of my mind?

What I said before... No, no, no, Madame
Malkravers.

Like you, I also believe that there was
in the garden something that struck the

terror into the heart of your poor
husband.

It wasn't only the garden, Mr Poirot.

There was something else.

A couple of weeks ago, we were just
getting ready to go to bed.

Jack was in the bathroom.

I'd just taken my sleeping pill.

I turned to the mirror to brush my hair
and...

It was her blood.

I know it was her blood.

Tell me, madame.

When your husband went for his walk in
the garden, you observed him from the

window?

I saw him go out.

Then he disappeared from my view around
the other side of the house.

I was working on a watercolour of the
south lawns.

And he used to go and sit in front of
the old yule hedge.

On the west side of the house?

And the secretary to your husband...

Mlle. Rowling's son.

She went to the bank at about 9 .30 and
returned at 11.

I'd just finished my painting. I think I
was just washing the brushes through

when she came back in and asked to see
Jack.

That's when Danvers came running across
the lawn.

I'm sorry, Mr. Poirot. I'm sorry.

Is it an emergency? The doctor does have
rather a lot of house calls later this

morning. S 'il vous plaît, madame, say
to him it is Hercule Poirot.

I think that he will see me. Goodbye.

Doctor, there's a gentleman outside
suffering from Urkel Paru.

He seems to think it's quite serious.

Oh, yes, thank you, Margaret.

You're sure and true.

Mr. Paru? Monsieur le docteur, I would
like to introduce you to my associate.

You do? I do.

For the children. Help yourself.

Thank you.

Dr. Bernard, in your expert opinion, how
dangerous was it, the stomach condition

of Mr. Maltravers?

I'm afraid I'm not in the fortune
-telling business, Mr. Poirot.

Of course, we all knew there was a risk
of complications. There always is.

He's a very hardy type, Jonathan.

Very strong constitution.

Shouldn't have had any problems. He
really shouldn't.

What do I know?

Forty -five years' medical experience.

Sometimes doesn't amount to a job in the
end.

Watch your teeth, you know.

You were also prescribed the drugs for
Madame Markravel?

Oh, yes, from time to time.

Sleeping pills, that sort of thing.

She frequently... That's odd.

Something is wrong, Dr. Bernard.

Chloroform.

Five fluid ounce bottle.

It's gone.

Hello, Master... Oh, Mr. Poirot.

No, I'm afraid he isn't. She went into
town to the civil defense meeting at the

parish hall.

About an hour ago.

The civil defense meeting?

Come, Hastings.

The time may be of the essence.

Excuse me, Madame.

Excuse me, could you tell me, please,
where is the parish hall?

Merci.

In the event of a sudden emergency make
sure the

mask is secured by fastening the strap
of the back

Madam Maltravers, are you here?

Madam Maltravers!

The gas mask, quick! Remove it, the gas
mask! Wait, wait, wait! Clear the way,

please! Clear the way, please!

It's good, it's good.

Some smelling salts or some brandy?

And Fedgett wants a doctor.

Captain Black.

Quick, Hastings. He must not leave.

A bit of a rush, aren't we, sir?

He's alright, brother. He's alright.

Sir?

I think it would be wise for you to
travel back with Madame Maltraverse

she is quite recovered from this OD.

Yes, of course.

Madame.

See you back at the head now.

Why did you try and run away back there,
Captain Black?

I wasn't running away.

I was running downstairs to see if I
could help.

I didn't put on a blasted thing with
poison.

My God.

I wouldn't harm so much as a hair up her
head.

I've done nothing wrong.

Well, in that case, perhaps you'd like
to tell us why you vanished like a goat

on the morning of Mr.

Maltravers' death?

Where you've been for the last 24 hours?

And how you came to turn up again here
today as an attempt being made on his

poor young widow's life.

Captain Black, if you will not answer
the questions of the Chief Inspector

perhaps you will answer one of mine.

How long have you been in love with
Madame Maltravers?

This is preposterous. No, no, come,
come, come, come, monsieur.

The truth, if you please.

How could I stay here?

How could I stay when every second was
agony for me?

Seeing the two of them like that... I
thought I'd managed to get over it.

Then when I saw her again, I knew it was
no good.

I was just so ashamed of my feelings.

I got the train back to Tilbury next
morning.

planning to return to East Africa and
put it all behind me.

Then when I read of his death in the
newspaper, naturally, I had to come back

and... Yes, of course.

The newspaper.

Tell me, Captain Black, the night you
arrived at the hotel, you had with you a

parcel, is that not so, wrapped in the
newspaper?

Yes. It was an African carving, a kind
of talisman that I picked up while

travelling in Kenya.

Yes, and you said, as I now recall, it
was a present for someone?

Oh, Susan, that's right.

I'm afraid it might have unnerved her,
rather.

She's slightly superstitious about that
kind of thing.

Is this relevant, Poirot?

Relevant, Chief Inspector?

Yes.

For we have now found the key to the
death of Monsieur Jonathan Mountgrave.

The colours really are delightful, I
must say.

You really have a special talent, Mrs.
Maltrevis.

Thank you.

Look, are you sure you're all right now?

It's been such a godly ordeal.

Some rest and quiet, I think, is what
she needs the most.

She's in safe hands, aren't you, my
dear?

Captain Hastings!

I'd like you to have this.

For all your help today.

I say, that's awfully kind of you. Are
you sure?

I can't stand another night of it.

On my own in the house with her.

Miss Rawlinson? I don't know the term.
There was something between them.

Once upon a time, years before I met
him.

Of course, it was all over as far as
Jack was concerned, but... I don't know.

With all this, I just don't know
anymore.

All of a sudden...

She scares me.

I see.

Come back and have dinner with us
tonight, please.

You and Mr. Poirot.

I just feel safer.

So, what's happened?

They arrested Captain Black?

The fog, it begins to clear, Hastings.

But there are yet many questions that
remain unanswered.

So, I come here for the early lunch.

The salad niçoise will prove most
nourishing for the little grey cells.

So, what have you found out? Was
Maltravers murdered or not?

Oh, yes, Hastings. He was murdered most
cruelly and in the cold blood.

What about Mithis Maltravers?

I wonder who put the chloroform in her
gaff mask.

Yes.

The mask.

How is Madame Maltravers now? She's
quite recovered from her ordeal?

Yes, sort of.

Actually, she's asked us both out there
to dinner tonight, to the manor.

She still seems to be worried about that
secretary, Miss... Hastings.

Is this not the picture painted by
Madame Maltravers on the morning of the

tragedy? Yes.

My worst suspicions are now confirmed.
For God, Hastings, it is all here. This

picture tells the whole story.

You do not see?

Sorry, Poirot. Just looks like a
painting of the garden to me.

And the eggs.

Yes, the broken eggs.

It must still be there.

Ah, why did I not see before?

Mr. Poirot.

Inspector Chappell on the phone from the
local police headquarters.

Sounds as if the pot's thickening.

Ah, Poirot.

I thought you might be interested to
hear the rather startling results of

post -mortem.

According to this, what actually killed
Jonathan Maltravers was... How the

devil did you know that?

We have not the moment to waste, Chief
Inspector.

Tell me, do you still have stationed at
the manor house the constable outside in

the garden?

Bon, then listen to me carefully.

You must give to him the following
instructions.

Incidentally, Mr. Norton, the killer is
the explorer who is bedridden.

Really? Oh, may we?

He fires into the food cake and poisons
out from his window upstairs.

Good Lord, I think you may have solved
it for me.

And you, my friend, can repay with a
small service for me.

Susan, I'm... I'm so sorry about... I
had to come

back. Do you understand?

It was very sweet of you, Captain.

Seems to be blurring up a bit of a game
out there.

If your instincts are strong, girls,
they ought to be expected at this time

year. Strong enough to waken the dead.

Oh, stop it! No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Madame, sit yourself, please.

Please be seated.

It is not...

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God, what's happening?

It is the wind, mother.

Nothing more.

No.

No, those doors were locked.

I locked them both before dinner. I
distinctly remember...

Oh, my God.

No, it can't be.

Your hand, it is bleeding.

My husband's blood is on my hands.

Because I

killed him.

Lights.

Chief Inspector.

You have had enough, Chief Inspector
Jaffe.

I'm afraid it's all over, Mrs.
Mountravers.

Eh?

You performed your part most splendidly.

Monsieur Nautas.

I'll be able to tell my grandchildren I
helped Mr. Hercule Poirot solve one of

his most baffling cases.

Merci, monsieur.

Right, come on, Baines. Let's get her
out of here.

Here you go.

You did this for me?

For you.

A wax cast, mademoiselle, taken from the
face of the deceased.

A device most macabre, but I fear it was
necessary for the success of this

little masquerade.

But the blood.

A little red paint that I pressed into
her hand a few seconds before.

In fact, it was the same red paint that
she herself used to produce the blood on

the mirror in her bedroom.

She... Oh, yes.

Just as she invented the face in the
cedar tree.

Of course, there was no face.

There was no laughter.

The wind.

He paints the pictures in her leaves,
and the screechings of the rook place

tricks upon the ears.

The seeds of fear, once they are sown,
begin to grow in the imagination.

But why?

Sampleman, to unsettle her husband, to
drive him

to his grave.

Remember, mademoiselle, that his
condition, it is still weak after the

operation, yes?

She knows that any sudden upset or shock
could be most disastrous to his health.

Hello, voilà.

The insurance that he's paid out, and
she has got rid of the husband she had

married only for his money.

Unfortunately, Mr. Maltravers turned out
to be rather stronger than she

bargained for, which was why she decided
on more drastic measures.

The little rook rifle.

Jack?

Mademoiselle Rawlinson, you are at the
bank. Monsieur Danvers at work in

part of the garden. And so she took her
chance.

The rook rifle with its tiny bullets was
the murder weapon.

it is embedded in the brain, and the
effect, it is complete.

The internal hemorrhage that is fatal.

For the moment, she conceives the weapon
in the head, and in so doing, she

disturbs the nest and the eggs of the
blackbird.

Her plan to remove it later is foiled,
because there was, keeping watch in the

garden, a police constable.

The body she then drags to the foot of
the tree.

to make us believe he had seen something
up there which brought upon his attack

tragic.

Ah, yes.

With the arrival of Hercule Poirot, she
starts to panic because she knows that I

suspect the murder.

And so she stages the clumsy affair with
the chloroform in the gas mask to make

us believe that her own life was under
threat.

All this to divert our suspicions of the
most cruel,

the most brutal murder.

Sweet -looking girl like that.

Who'd have thought she could come up
with such a grisly idea?

Ah, but Chief Inspector, the idea did
not come from her.

It came from her admirer of the most
ardent, Captain Black.

You don't mean they were both in on the
whole thing? Oh, no, no, no, no, no,

Hastings.

The newspaper.

Someone just back from Africa?

That was wrapped around the present of
Captain Black?

On the front page?

There was a story about a farmer in East
Africa who had killed himself in

exactly the same manner.

With a rogue rifle in the mouth.

You did not observe the headline?

Ah. Without you, Poirot, he sees
everything and he forgets nothing.

What about the picture?

The shadows, Hastings.

They were all cast from the right to the
left. You do not see?

Sorry, Poirot.

You'd better come quick.

Now, if she had truly painted that
picture in the morning before midday, as

had claimed, they would have all been
cast from the left to the right.

Ah, so she'd already painted that
picture beforehand to give herself an

C 'est ça. Well, I suppose we'd better
be leaving. Catch our train.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
Chief Inspector.

It is still early, and the exhibits here
are quite remarkable, n 'est -ce pas?

To be immortalized in such a fashion
unique.

Ah, quelle honneur.

Oh, I wonder what is around here.

Oh, very impressive.

Quite incredible.

It's a masterpiece.

True work of art.

That's his curly hair to a T.

Even got the little dimples on his
cheeks, look. A real piece of

wouldn't you say?