All language subtitles for 03 Towards Zero

Such captivating green eyes.

Those tender and serene eyes.

Those never ever mean eyes.

They're so loving and true.

Deep beneath the blue sky.

Reflecting your green eyes.

And the trees.

Do you know something, Miss Marple? I
rather suspect that you and I both share

secret passion.

Do we, Mr. Treves?

Murder, Miss Marple.

Oh.

I'm not quite sure that I would describe
it as such. Detective stories, they get

it all wrong, don't they? They always
begin with the murder when the murder

should come at the end, don't you think?

In certain cases, perhaps.

But then again... You see, Miss Marple,
I think it would be safe to say I'm

pretty expert in these matters.

Oh, without a doubt.

Mr. Treves, you've devoted a whole
lifetime to the law. And 99 times out of

a murder evolves over years, with all
the causes and events bringing certain

people to a certain place at a certain
time.

All... What's the word?

Converging, Mr. Treves.

That's it.

Converging. Converging towards a given
spot, and then it comes wallop.

Zero power.

All converging.

Converging.

Towards zero?

Yes. Bullseye.

Paul Zingero.

I went into Bunty yesterday.

Did you?

She's asked us to join them in Monty in
July.

And that's going to be divine.

It's too sickening, we can't.

We can't, can we?

No, we can't.

I don't want to go to dreary old Devon.
We have to.

I owe it to Camilla.

I know. to suck up to her a bit. It's
not a question of sucking up. It's a

question of affection.

And piles of dosh.

You know she hates me.

Of course she doesn't. It's all about
Audrey. I know it is. Amanda's never

forgiven me.

She's old.

Her generation finds divorce hard to
take.

She even thinks you behave badly.

I did.

Just because Audrey chose to make such a
frightful fuss.

She had a nervous breakdown.

She was playing up.

You have to learn to lose gracefully.
You have to accept these things.

She did.

She divorced me so we could marry.

Anyway, we do have nothing in common.

She's just like a mangled old dishcloth.

She gives me the creeps.

Perhaps we should join Bunty down in
Monte Carlo.

What about Devon, Camilla?

They can always pop down in September.

But I thought she's always there in
September.

Audrey, you mean. Of course, Audrey.

We can't be there at the same time.

She thinks it's quite a good idea.

How do you know what Audrey thinks?

I happened to run into her yesterday.

Run into her?

Never said. You didn't tell me you'd
bumped into Bunty till this morning.

Bunty's not my ex. It was pure chance.
We had a little chat.

Actually, she was very nice. She even
asked how you were.

Oh, sweetheart.

And then it sort of came to me.

How much more sensible it would be if
you two could be friends.

It would make me so happy if this could
work out.

Preposterous. The boy must be barking.

It does seem rather odd.

Wives making friends.

Oh, it's too revolted.

No, no, no, it can't be Neville's idea.

It must have come from that ghastly
trollopy marriage. Well, people tend to

little more relaxed nowadays about this
sort of thing. Not under my roof.

And it's only because Matthew, God rest
his soul, was so devoted to the boy that

I allow that scarlet -toed creature here
at all. I do not like her.

The way she pursued Neville until his
marriage was in tatters. No, I blame her

entirely for the whole thing.

Well... Neville had a little to do with
it. Well, of course he did, stupid boy.

But if it hadn't been for that harlot's
persistence... Poor Audrey. What that

woman's been through.

And she was so nearly such a good wife.

If only she'd been a little more
athletic.

Nowadays, there's simply no...
Discretion? Exactly.

So girls like Kay Mortimer go around
stealing other people's husbands and

about with entirely unsuitable types,
like that young man who's always hanging

around her.

Ted Latimer?

Yes. Touch of the day girl, I suspect.
Unless he wears make -up, which wouldn't

at all surprise me.

Well, he's a friend from her Riviera
days. And I'd very much like to know how

manages to live the way that he does.

By his width, I would imagine.

I expect he'll be loafing about at
Easterhead while they're here.

Oh, why can't everyone leave me in
peace?

Old Freddie Treves practically next door
at the Balmoral Court.

Thomas Royd, boring as all senseless
with tales from a lair.

And Miss Marple, of course.

Oh, and of course, Marple.

A sketching holiday, I ask you.

She'll be over at Easter Head too.

Marple and the gigolo.

Now, there's a thought.

No doubt she'll be poking her nose in
everywhere. She was just the same at

school and such a ghastly swat.

Perhaps you'd prefer that I put Neville
off. Oh, no.

Let them all do what they want.

With any luck, I'll be dead by
September.

Is backhand good?

I'll give him that.

I wasn't expecting for you here.

Oh, you know me.

Never miss an opportunity.

And how's the devoted wife today?

Absolutely furious.

Fierce. I never thought it into his head
all this stuff, and it's Audrey and I,

Audrey, mind, that we should become
bosom buddies.

What on earth for? I haven't the
faintest idea.

Have you ever heard of anything so
stupid?

And he wants us all to go on a jolly
holiday together down to Camilla's in

Devon. I don't know what's got into him.

When are you going?

September, apparently.

Bound to be her doing.

Neat little cat.

Don't worry, sugar.

I'll be there to hold your hand.

I'll book a room again at that hotel
across the bay.

I must

say,

my dear, I found Neville's suggestion
quite disgusting. It might, you know, be

rather good thing.

But you can't want to be here with that
dreadful woman. It's not that bad, and

if Neville wants it. But do you want it?

That's the question.

Yes?

My God.

What is it?

Back in there, I thought it was Rita
Hayworth. You stupid child.

That gorgeous old thing.

Rude, horrible creature.

How are you?

Irresistible.

We've been so looking forward to this,
darling, haven't we? We couldn't wait.

Hello, Camilla.

OK. Yeah.

Shuttled in?

Yeah, thank you.

Naughty boy.

It was all perfectly ghastly.

Hello, Mary.

How lovely.

Seven years.

Nearly eight.

Is it really?

That's long.

How's the plantation?

A damned hard work.

Rubber, isn't it?

Yes, but I'm thinking of branching out
into Saga.

Saga?

Well, nothing's changed much around
here.

Oh, that vile new hotel.

Nice of the old girl to put me up. I
hope it hasn't been a bother.

It's the gods, then, believe me.

Audrey's particularly looking forward to
seeing you.

Is she?

Things have been very difficult with
Neville and his wife there as well.

His idea, apparently.

Not a very good one, as it turns out.

What exactly is the problem?

Well, that's just it.

It's hard to put one's finger on. I
mean, Audrey's been charming about the

thing, but one never really knows with
her.

Mr. Treed, sir, welcome back to the
Balmoral Court.

Oh, Mrs. Rogers, the old gaff all speak
in Spanish. There's been a slight change

of plans, sir. Oh? But I'm sure you
won't be disappointed.

There she is, stately as a galleon.

Yes, dear old Gull's Point.

No! Stop!

What the devil?

Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to
startle you, but I thought... Ah!

Yes, I'm afraid I've always tended to
stand too near the edge.

Yes, it is rather tempting, isn't it?

Had to fetch this. Thought I'd get some
air.

It's never strange.

I know.

Jane Marple.

I just popped in to see Camilla and...

Came up here to try a little sketch.

Brenda, where's I?

Oh, yes.

We go back a long way.

On and on.

Such a pity about Wimbledon, Mr.
Strange. That boy who beat you, very.

Merrick.

Flash in the pan, I'm sure.

The best man on the day.

Sporting life.

Oh, how fascinating.

You must tell me all about it this
evening.

This evening? That would be nice.

Goodbye, then.

Strange.

Still the same old Thomas.

Thought you might have perked up a bit.

Now, Adrian, he was a bright spark.

Such a waste.

You should have made it to the funeral.
It was difficult.

There's no excuse.

He was your brother.

He came off the road very close to here,
you know.

So I gathered.

Exactly a year ago.

Do you know what he was doing down here?
Haven't a clue.

What's more, he never came to see me,
which was most unlike him.

So, good to be back?

Your timing's not too clever, I must
say. Mary mentioned that. Don't know

got into Neville bringing those two
together.

Still, it may have its compensations.

What do you mean?

You've always had a soft spot for
Audrey, haven't you, Thomas?

From the time you were children, when
your parents took her in. She was like a

sifter to me and Adrian.

Oh, I think she was rather more than
that.

And then Neville came along and snatched
her from under your nose, didn't he?

Oh, don't look so miserable.

Perhaps patience will finally reap its
reward.

This is all I could find, the
illustrated post.

That'll do, I suppose.

Neville? I'm so sorry, Neville.

I thought he was speaking to me.

I'm so sorry.

Who the hell are you?

Royd. Thomas Royd. Oh, yes.

The man from Malaya. That's right.

Well, if I were you, I'd go back pronto.

Ah, Royd. Hello there.

Strange. Are you right?

But the wife, I suppose.

In a manner of speaking.

Yeah. I'd better go now.

Why did you give it to her?

It's only a magazine.

You gave it to her and not to me.

What's it matter?

Of course it matters. I'm your wife.

You humiliated me and that's exactly
what she wants.

She's trying to turn you against me.
You've got to stop this.

I hate it here.

You've only just arrived.

Please, Neville.

We're staying, and that's that.

Welcome back.

Miss Martin.

Thank you.

Thank you.

So, here we all are.

Is Camilla not joining us?

I'm afraid not, Miss Markle. Nowadays
she prefers her own room.

Is your hotel comfortable?

Oh, yes.

Most comfortable, thank you. Yes.

It's not a bad old dive.

And top -notch billiards.

We should all come over one day. We've
got a lovely sandy beach.

I was thinking of going sailing
tomorrow.

I'd like that.

We could all go sailing.

I thought you were playing golf.

I can play another day.

Do you play golf, Kay?

Hardly. She'd be good if she took the
trouble.

She's got a natural swing.

Do you play games, Audrey?

No, I don't.

So you and Camilla were at school
together, Miss Marple?

Yes, indeed.

There's a thought.

The two of you in boaters and gym slips.

How long have you known Camilla, Mr
Treves?

Oh, we go back years. Through Matthew,
that's how I know her. Matt and I took

silk together, yes.

And whenever I'm down in this part of
the world, I always make sure I see the

old girl.

Mr Treves is staying close by at the
Balmoral Court.

We always have the same suite, don't
you, Mr Treves? Not this year,

unfortunately. Some cock -up with the
booking said they'd put me up top.

Oh. Good job they've got a lift.

Ticky -ticker, you see.

Still. Sharp as a knife, eh, Mr. Prince?
Oh, yes.

I haven't forgotten who I am yet.

I say, that medic's doing rather well,
isn't he?

Gave you a damn good thrashing at any
rate, eh?

Oh,

that hair flame red, unforgettable.

Will you get it done?

Relationship compliments, Miss Marple.
And she would be glad to see you up in

her room. Thank you.

Everyone behaving themselves?

Yeah. It was the most delicious dinner.
I expect the gigolo put that dreadful

racket on, or was it the frightful Kay?

They seemed to be having a good time.
It's not a bloody dance hall.

Sketching, eh?

Been at it long?

Nope.

But I must say... Always good with your
hands, weren't you?

Needlework, pottery, all that sort of
nonsense.

Too fiddly for me.

Much preferred to be stomping around a
pitch with a stick in my hand.

I remember. The only exercise I get now
is lifting these damn things to my lips.

We weren't that bad looking, were we,
Jane?

No.

I think we were... Look at us now.

Two old crocs waiting to drop off the
twig.

My earring.

Oh, sorry.

Wait a second. Wait a second. Let me
help.

So, what do you think to the harem?

I'm not sure. I just can't fathom how a
chap could leave Audrey for Kay.

It does happen. Of course it happens.

But if you were a man, wouldn't she
drive you off your nut?

Perhaps it won't last.

He may marry again.

Maybe even return to his first wife.

To Audrey?

Oh, no, never. No, she's too proud. Ooh,
where love is concerned, pride is a

quality more often spoken of than acted
on. Don't pontificate, Jane.

Sets my teeth on edge, what's left of
them.

No, no, you don't understand.

Audrey was head over heels for Neville,
and after he left, she never wanted to

see him again.

Yet she's here now.

Perhaps she wanted to show that she
doesn't care anymore.

Or would like to think so.

You don't mean she might still hold the
candle for him? What?

Oh, no, no, no. She's behaving perfectly
in an impossible situation.

Whereas Neville is behaving very badly
indeed.

Ah,

Miss Balfour dismissed the royal
pretzels, kept her down. Oh, that's most

of you, Mr. Treves. But I think perhaps
not.

Just as well. Probably killed me.

Oh, that young fellow knows his onions?

Yes. Quite the professional.

Rather decorative, too.

I wonder what he does for a living.

One can only imagine, eh?

I think you're quite a shrewd observer,
Mr. Treves.

You're a shrewd observer yourself, you
know something, Miss Markham? I rather

suspect that you and I both share a
secret passion.

Do we?

Mr. James?

What would that be, I wonder?

Murder, Miss Marple.

Time for your tonic, m 'lady.

Waste disposal on the men, Barrett?

Oh, no, m 'lady.

I'll be forever a slave to my bowels.

I see they've acquitted the morphine
murderer. It was in the Times this

Morphine murderer?

Jumped the gun calling him that in the
first place.

Accidental overdose, they declared it.

You sound sceptical, Mr.

Royd. Well, it sounds pretty dodgy to
me, where there's smoke and all that.

I knew a case once.

Oh, perhaps not.

Oh, do go on, Mr. Treves.

Oh, it concerned two children. They were
playing with bows and arrows, and one

shot an arrow through the other one's
eye, and the poor child died.

A regrettable accident, the inquest
concluded.

Was that it?

Yes. There was, of course, another side
to the story. A farmer sometime

previously happened to have noticed the
child who fired the fatal shot,

practicing. You mean it might not have
been an accident at all?

Well, I don't know, but it was stated at
the inquest that neither child had ever

used a bow and arrow before.

What did the farmer do?

He did nothing.

Perhaps he felt the child should be
given the benefit of a doubt.

But you're in no doubt, are you, Mr
Treve? It was murder, Mrs Strange,

particularly ingenious and planned down
to the last detail.

What was the reason?

Childish revenge for a perceived
injustice.

But to keep hold of that intent, quietly
practising day after day, and then the

final piece of acting, with the accident
and the pretense of grief, that could

only stem from the wickedest mind.

Well, now, there's food for thought.
What happened?

Change of name.

The child is now an adult somewhere in
the world.

The question is, does that person still
have a murderer's heart?

It was a long time ago.

But I would recognize my little killer
anywhere.

Surely not.

Oh, yes.

Because of a certain physical
peculiarity.

But I best not dwell on the subject.

I shall be on my way.

Oh, have another drink, Mr. Treese.

Why not come out for a little?

I think I shall go to bed.

Do excuse me. I must see that Lady
Tresillian's settled.

You've danced me off my feet, Teddy.

I simply must go to bed.

Good night, everyone.

Good night, Teddy.

Oh, there's a plan I've put to come to
Easter Head tomorrow.

Whenever you're ready, Miss Marple.

That's very kind of you, Mr Latimer.

I nearly forgot. There's something I
have to get from the car.

What a restless young man.

A friend of Mrs. Strange, I understand.

Of Kay Strange, yes.

Confusing, isn't it?

Having two of them in the house.

More uncomfortable, I would imagine, for
the original Mrs. Strange.

I expect so.

You were brought up together, weren't
you?

You and Audrey Strange.

Yes. You must know her well.

Why did she come, Mr. Roy?

I suppose she didn't like to refuse.

I wonder why he would be anxious for
such a reunion.

I really don't know.

It's stupid of him, if you ask me.

Good night.

Good night.

I'm so sorry about that.

Your coat, Miss Markle.

You must come again.

You seem to have cheered her up
enormously.

What have you got there? Dance records.

Kay asked me to bring them over.

She didn't say.

Ted?

We'll make a move.

Motor's out front.

Goodbye.

Trish? Hmm? Trish?

I'll walk you back, shall I?

Yes, please.

Yes. It's a beautiful night. Yes.

You know, I think I might join you. A
little air would be lovely.

Thank you.

Delightful evening.

Miss Alden.

Most instructive.

Instructive? Hear that, ma 'am?

We old fogies, you know.

You notice quite a lot.

You don't have to tell me, Mr. James.

Oh, Thomas, you gave me a shock.

I've been down to the ferry for a bit of
a walk.

No, nightmare, shh, shh, shh.

Quiet as the grave, which is perhaps why
I feel all at home.

Damnation. What's wrong?

Liv's out of order.

I'm going to have to walk up.

Well, you could always come back and
stay the night. Nonsense. Fit as a fit.

as a fiddle.

Let me come up with you. I wouldn't hear
of it. If I go slowly, slowly, one

step, two step, up the wooden hill.

Good night, lady.

Good night, sweet lady.

Good night, Mr. Tree.

Good night.

Good night.

Good night.

Such an odd story Mr. Treeve told last
night, wasn't it?

The child in the bow and arrow.

And his shiver up my spine.

He's such a funny old dick.

Kay and Ted go quite well together,
don't they?

Of course they do.

They like the same things, have the same
opinions.

What a pity.

What? Well, I was going to say, what a
pity it was she ever met Neville.

I'd rather not talk about it.

Of course.

Stupid of me.

I'd hope maybe that we got over it.
Nothing to get over.

I hope they'll be very happy together.

Well, that's very nice of you.

It isn't nice, it's the truth.

It's all over now.

You know, I actually find them rather
exciting, King Neville.

They lead such different lives from me.

I quite envy them.

And even you, with all your unhappiness.

I've had experiences that I should
probably never have.

I envy you, too.

I really do.

Can't be much fun for you, living with
Camilla.

Well, I'm well fed, comfortably housed.

Thousands of women don't even have that.

Oh, Thomas.

I'll go and have a word.

Mr. Latimer.

May I?

Of course.

You've been deserted, I see.

Yes.

She's been claimed by her legal owner.

You enjoying yourself down here, Mr.
Latimer?

As much as I'd enjoy myself anywhere.

They don't like me, Miss Marple.

The Gold's Point mob.

I'm an outsider, see, and they don't
take to outsiders.

You don't take much to them, I suspect.

What is it particularly you don't like
about them, Mr Latimer?

They're smug.

That's what I don't like.

Really pleased with themselves.

Shut off from the common herd.

I'm sorry you feel like that. It's true,
though.

Perhaps they may from time to time
appear, as you say, somewhat smug, but

really, you know, inside, I'm sure
they're quite human.

Whatever their fault, I don't believe
Malice to be one of them.

They're not very happy, are they?

Have you always been in love with her?

And she?

Thought so.

Until the strange came along.

And you're still in love with her?

Shouldn't you go away from him for that
long?

You're only letting yourself in for more
unhappiness.

Sweet old thing, aren't you?

By the way, I've got your earring. Oh,
good.

I hate being without earrings.

Why is that?

Because of this.

Oh, yes, old bouncer bitch. He had a
sore paw or something.

Yes, and I stupidly bent down to stroke
him.

I was very young.

It was just after your family took me
in.

It was quite nasty, but you can hardly
see a thing now.

Still, I know it's there.

Why did you marry him?

I fell in love.

Why?

What attracted you?

You hate him, don't you?

Hardly surprising, is it?

He's got everything I have.

I'm just dull old Thomas with a gummy
arm.

He married the only girl I've ever cared
for.

But you've always known that, haven't
you?

I know you don't care for me.

Even as children, you preferred Adrian.

He had a schoolboy crush.

Mr. Christ, it'd have been me in that
car and not him.

Don't, Thomas, please.

There's something I don't understand
about that.

About what?

Adrian's death.

Well, it's really very simple.

He died in a car accident.

What was he doing down here?

Why didn't he visit Camilla?

Steiner.

I'm beginning to think it isn't so
simple as just another accident on a

road. Hello, Audrey.

Royant.

I'll stretch my legs.

It is all right between us, isn't it?
Yes.

Of course.

I mean, we're good friends and all that.
Yes.

Why wouldn't we be?

Edward!

Audrey.

Edward! Your wife wants you.

Kay, you mean.

I said.

You're my wife.

Miss Alden, her ladyship wants to see
you at once.

Oh.

Oh, Mary, I'm so glad you're back.
Camilla, what is it? It's Freddie

He's dead.

Dead? Yes, isn't it terrible?

It was so sudden.

He must have collapsed as soon as he got
back to the hotel last night.

I can't believe it. He had a weak heart,
of course, but there was nothing wrong

with dinner, was there?

I don't think so.

Would you go to the Balmoral Court and
ask if there's anything we can do?

Yes, yes, of course.

And take Thomas with you. He might be
useful.

I gather Mr Trees was dining with you at
Gull's Point last night.

Yes, Doctor. How did he seem?

Very well.

It's hard business.

You just never know when it's going to
hit you.

I had a look at his medication, and it
was clear he was in a pretty bad way.

He was always so careful.

I'm sure he was, Mrs Rogers.

But any extra strain, however slight,
and bingo.

Such as walking upstairs?

Absolutely. Although I'm sure he would
have avoided that.

Oh, yes. He always used the lift,
always.

Except last night.

What do you mean, Miss Alden?

Well, the lift was out of order, wasn't
it?

No, it wasn't. It hasn't been out of
order for weeks.

What a terrible thing.

Perhaps it was some sort of
misunderstanding or a practical joke.

Not very funny.

One of the guests, or maybe one of the
porters.

Poor Mr.

Tree.

As the doctor said, he did have a very
weak heart. You bastard!

Oh, dear.

This is not what you think.

Exactly what I think.

You just can't keep away from her, can
you? Oh, for God's sake, Kay.

I'll leave you alone. Yes, I wish you
would.

Yes, that's right. Run away. You've got
what you wanted.

This has absolutely nothing to do with
her. Blame me if you like. Oh, I do like

making me look like an idiot.

What sort of man are you?

A pretty poor one.

You come after me, you divorce your
wife. It's no good, Kay. We don't

I won't let you go back to her.

I'll kill you first.

And her, too.

I expect you'll be glad when things get
back to normal.

Do you still play the piano?

I'm afraid I've let it slip.

You play rather well.

Nice music.

I've wondered how you could manage an
octave, your...

Hands are so small.

I've got a long little finger.

That means you're selfish.

Is that true?

Yes, it is.

If you're unselfish, you have a short
one.

Your left hand's what you're born with
and your right hand's what you make of

your life.

Now, Neville here is a very interesting
case, aren't you, darling?

Look how small his left hand little
finger is.

Whereas his right one's quite long.

Which goes just... how selfish he's
become.

An old wives' tale.

And you know all about them, don't you?

How long is it now you've been with Lady
Tresillian?

Oh, well, I came when my father died, so
going on 15 years now.

I'm 35, if that's what you want to know.
No, I wasn't meaning... I've had her

since I was very young.

It's rather ridiculous, isn't it?

I wonder what Mr. Trees would have to
say about it.

Tell us about your arm, Mr. Roy.

It happened when I was a child.

I was jammed in a door during an
earthquake.

It left me rather lopsided.

I think I might pop over to Easterhead,
catch Latimer for a game of billiards.

Will you take the car?

No, the ferry.

It's pouring.

I know.

I'm going to bed.

What a killing head.

Good night.

Good night.

Night.

Better be on.

If you please, sir, Lady Tresillian
would like a word.

There are certain things, Neville, that
I will not permit in my house.

Now, I have no wish to listen to
anybody's private conversations, but if

your wife insist on brawling in full
view... I'm sorry about that.

You wish Kay to divorce you so that you
and Audrey can remarry, is that right?

Just a gesture of what you've heard. I
will not allow it.

I would have thought that's my business.

You've used my house to make contact
with Audrey, or else she's used it.

done nothing of the sort. Kay is your
wife.

She has rights of which you cannot
deprive her.

You've made your bed, now lie on it.

It's got nothing to do with you.

It has everything to do with me. And
Audrey, what's more, leaves this house

tomorrow. You can't do that. Don't you
raise your voice to me. I will not have

it.

The first blow smashed the bone and
killed her.

The second one was just to make sure.

How long has she been dead?

I'd put it between ten and midnight.

And this is what hit her, is it?

Presumably.

She must have been hit with the back of
it.

Well, that's a bit awkward.

Darned awkward.

The whole thing's awkward.

She was struck, you see, on the right
temple.

Whoever did it must have stood here on
the right -hand side of the bed, looking

towards the head of the bed.

There's no room on the left. Left
-handed?

That's the easiest explanation.

The niblick's right -handed, sir.

Perhaps it didn't belong to the man who
used it, sir.

Supposing it was a man?

It's heavy enough for anyone to have
landed a terrible swipe.

But you couldn't swear this was the
weapon, could you, Doctor?

I'd need to analyse the blood in the
head.

Do you think she was awake when he was
hit?

She looks fairly astounding.

Unless she slept like that.

Oh, a lovely set of prints, sir.

A bludgeoned chap.

He leaves you the murder weapon, a good
set of prints. It's a wonder he didn't

leave you his card.

I'd better see to Barrett.

Who?

Lady Tressilian's maid. She was found in
a coma early this morning by the young

housemaid, Alice. She's the one who
found the body.

She'd been doped with barbiturates.

Had she now? She got a rung for help
till she was blue in the face.

A maid was out for the count. Someone
had spiked her thenopods.

I've not heard that one before.

So someone who knew all the household
routine.

That's where you come in, old chap.

Do you think someone could have handled
this with gloves on after the

fingerprints were made? Not without
smearing them.

These are clear as day, sir.

Big beauties they are.

Too big for a woman, do you reckon?

I say so, sir.

That bell pull.

Quite fit.

This is Thomas Roy, an old friend of the
family.

Audrey Strange.

And this is Neville Strange and Kay
Strange, Neville's wife.

Morning.

And this lady?

Oh, I'm sorry, this is Miss Marple.

Jane Marple.

Yes, good morning, Superintendent.

I don't believe we've met.

No, madam.

But a colleague of mine, Colonel
Melchett, has spoken of you on more than

occasion. Well, I hope.

Well, he's certainly spoken of you.

Dear Colonel Melchett.

Are you staying here too, Miss Marple?
Oh, no, Superintendent.

I'm staying at the Easter Head Bay
Hotel.

But I knew Lady Tresillian of old.

A terrible shock.

Well, yes, to all of us.

But we're anxious to help in any way.

As far as we can tell, the house doesn't
seem to have been broken into.

That would appear to be the case, madam.

Does anybody recognise this?

Is that what's horrible?

Looks like one of mine.

Can I see?

Golf as well as tennis, sir.

I saw you at Wimbledon.

My daughter's a great fan of tennis.

Particularly keen on that Merrick chap.

Certainly knows how to hit a ball,
doesn't he?

So, ladies and gentlemen, if you've no
objection, we'd like to take your

fingerprints. It's purely a matter of
routine, you understand. If you'd care

make your way into the study, you'll
find Detective Sergeant Jones waiting in

there with his kit.

I wonder if you've got any idea, sir,
who Lady Tressilian's solicitors are.

Yes, Asquith and Trelawney of Salton.
Thank you, sir. I need to look into the

estate. You mean who inherits the money?

That's right, sir. The will and all
that.

Well, I don't know about her will.

I don't think she had much of her own,
but as to the bulk of her property...

Yes, Mr Strange? It comes to me and my
wife.

Under the will of her late husband, Sir
Matthew. He was my official guardian,

you see. He and Lady Tresillian looked
after me when my parents died. He left

the estate in trust for his wife only
during her lifetime.

Any idea of the amount?

Not offhand, no.

Somewhere in the region of... 100 ,000?

Each? Between us. Tidy sum, nonetheless.

It is?

Although... I'm plenty of my own.

What hour did Mr. Strange leave the
house?

Twenty past ten, sir.

Or thereabouts.

I left the front door on the latch, sir,
for when he came back from Easterhead

Bay.

Do you remember what time that was?

About half past two, sir.

I heard voices.

Then a car drive away.

And then I heard Mr. Neville come
upstairs.

You heard something?

I couldn't help it, sir.

See... I was going up to bed and I had
to pass her lady -hit door and heard her

and Mr Neville going at it hammer and
tong.

Do you remember what was said?

Well, I wasn't listening, like.

Of course you weren't.

Perhaps you might have caught the odd
word.

Coffee, Thomas?

No, thank you.

Something stronger, perhaps?

Where'd you find this?

Bundled at the bottom of Mr. Strange's
wardrobe.

And look at this.

Looks like blood to me.

And it's spattered all the way up the
sleeve.

Well done, Williams.

And there's something on it, sir.

Red hair, see?

Ear on the cuff.

And there's brown hairs on the collar
and right shoulder there.

Well, well.

A regular bluebeard, our Mr Strange.

His arm around one wife and the other
wife's head on his shoulder. And look at

this, sir.

Could mean he was trying to wash the
blood off.

Where's that lead to?

Mr Strange's room.

It's locked.

On this side?

The other.

On her side, eh?

This is where Barrett always kept the
Santa pods, sir.

God, nasty little things.

She used to put them in the soak at
midday, and they stood there till she

to bed.

So anybody could get at them. No prints
on the packet, I suppose, or the glass?

Only Barrett's, apparently.

Easy enough just to drop the stuff in,
anyway.

An inside job, don't you think, sir?

Excuse me, sir.

I've done all the prints, and only one
set matches those on the Niblick.

Strange's, I presume.

Miss Marple? Oh, Superintendent.

You shouldn't really be up here, you
know. That's why I'm on my way down.

Now, there was something I was going to
tell you. The thing is, Miss Marple...

About the night before last.

Ah, yes. Poor Mr. Treves. We were dining
at Guns Point. Is this something that

could wait, do you think, Miss Martin?
No, I am quite sure it couldn't,

Superintendent. And after dinner, Mr.
Treves told us a most tragic story that

occurred some years ago. Two children
playing with bows and arrows, and one of

them ended up dead. Shot through the
eye. Did it?

Accidents will happen. That's just it,
Superintendent. Mr. Treves was convinced

that it was not an accident, even though
the child was acquitted, but quite

intentional. Planned down to the last
detail. Miss Markle, we really must...

Because of a certain physical
peculiarity.

He'd recognise the murderer anywhere.

Did he specify what? I'm afraid he
didn't.

This will have to wait. There's more.
When Mr Treves returned to the hotel, he

found the lift out of order.

Look, I don't really... But apparently
it wasn't. It seems someone put the

placard there by accident.

I... Accidents will happen. Poor Mr.
Treves, who had a very weak heart, had

climb the stairs and died. And I can't
help feeling, Superintendent, that the

placard was put there not by accident,
but by design.

Murder on the off -charm, you could say.

Because he'd recognised at dinner.

The person who shot the arrow.

But please don't let them keep you.

Bit late, wasn't it, sir? Are we going
off to Easterhead?

It's quite lively over there,
Superintendent, as I'm sure you know.

And this is something of an early -to
-bed household, isn't it?

I took a key.

But not your wife?

She had a headache.

Please go on.

I was about to go up for change.

Into what?

I'd been wearing a blue suit.

My best, as it happens, and as I
proposed taking the ferry, I thought I'd

into an older one.

Dove grey.

Anthrophite lining, double -breasted.
We'd just like to get everything clear,

sir.

Do continue.

I was about to go up and change when
Perthball told me that Lady Tressilian

wanted to see me, so naturally I obeyed
the summons.

You were the last person to see her
alive, I think, sir?

Yes.

I suppose I was. How long were you with
her?

20 minutes or so.

Then I changed, hurried off, just about
caught the ferry.

Then at the hotel, eventually... Tracked
down Latimer, we had a game of

billiards, and before we knew it, it was
two o 'clock.

Last ferry had gone by then, of course.

So Latimer very decently gave me a lift
back. It's quite a way all around the

estuary. He dropped me off about half
past. That chat with Lady Tresillian,

right, was it?

Why shouldn't it be? Well, the thing is,
sir, some of your conversation was

overheard.

We had a slight disagreement.

It was nothing.

What about, sir?

Well, as a matter of fact, she ticked me
off.

Nothing unusual there. Bird was an
expert.

Divorce and all that, she wouldn't have
it, so we both got a bit heated.

But we parted on perfectly friendly
terms.

And that niblick, Mr Strange, any reason
why it would have your prints on it?

It's my club. Of course they'd be on it.

But I certainly didn't bash her over the
head with... No, what I mean is, sir,

is there any reason why the prints would
show that you were the last person to

have handled it?

That can't be true.

Somebody else must have handled it
afterwards, someone wearing gloves.

Not without smudging your prints, sir.

It isn't true. It simply isn't true.

Then perhaps you can explain why the
sleeves of your blue suit are stained

blood.

That's ridiculous.

I wasn't even wearing that suit.

Did you cut yourself, Mr. Strange?

No, I did not.

Surely you can't think I did such a
thing.

Why should I?

I've known Camilla all my life. You said
yourself, Mr. Strange, that you'd come

into a lot of money if she dies.

I don't want money.

I don't need it. That's what you say.

Bring my bank.

They'll tell you. You must realize, Mr.
Strange, that we already have sufficient

evidence to request a warrant for your
arrest.

But we've decided to give you the
benefit of the doubt.

I had a headache.

So I went to bed early.

The next thing I knew, that wretched
girl Alice was screaming the house down.

Your husband, Mrs Strange, did he happen
to pop in to see how you were before he

went off for the evening?

No. So you didn't see him from the time
you went to bed until he got up this

morning, is that right?

Yes. I noticed the door between your
rooms was locked.

Who locked it?

Mrs Strange?

What? The bedroom door. Who locked it?

I did.

We'd had a row earlier on, if you must
know.

I was furious with him.

Absolutely furious.

Oh, dear.

What was all that about, then?

That bloody woman.

It's all her fault.

She's making him behave like a perfect
idiot.

And which woman would that be?

His first wife, for goodness sake.
Audrey.

She got him down here in the first
place.

Neville says it was his idea, but it
wasn't.

It was she who put the idea into his
head and made him believe he'd thought

it himself. Why would she do a thing
like that?

Because she wants to get her hands on
him again.

She's never forgiven him for running off
with me.

And this is her revenge.

She's got him wrapped around her little
finger.

Why didn't you object to coming here,
Mrs Strange?

Because it would have looked as though I
were jealous.

Aren't you? Well, of course I am. I've
been jealous of Audrey from the start.

And I've always felt guilty.

I never quite forget her.

Anything you'd care to add, Inspector?

Um... No, sir.

Well, thank you, Mrs Strange. We have to
ask a good many questions, especially

with your husband inheriting so much
from Lady Tressilian.

£50 ,000.

How much is that?

Very generous.

We get it from old Sir Matthews' will,
don't we? You knew all about it, then?

Oh, yes.

He left it to be divided between Neville
and Neville's wife after Lady

Trevelyan's death.

I must say, I didn't like her.

Probably because she didn't like me, but
it's too horrible to think of someone

coming along and cracking her over the
head.

It wasn't Neville, Superintendent.

I'm sure of it. What makes you so sure,
Miss Alden? Just doesn't like him.

That's why.

I understand he's had a few problems,
Miss.

It has all been rather difficult.

And it was his idea to have this little
get -together.

So he said.

But you don't think so.

I've always thought that someone else
put it into his head.

Like who, Miss Alden?

I don't know.

I really don't know.

Do you know that Lady Tresillian has
left her maid Barrett a legacy?

Yes, I did.

And that she left you one too?

Yes. Do you know how much?

Enough to live on.

Lady Tresillian was aware of how very
little I have of my own.

I always come here in September, and my
husband, my ex -husband, wanted to come

too, and asked if I'd mind.

It was his suggestion?

Yes. Not yours?

It was his suggestion.

And you agreed?

One doesn't like to be disobliging. Were
you with the injured party?

Yes. And you don't feel any rancour
against them?

Not at all.

You have a very forgiving nature, Mrs
Strange.

You're sure, are you, that this meeting
was not your idea?

Quite sure.

Are you on friendly terms with the
President, Mrs Strange?

I don't think she likes me very much.

Do you like her?

I think she's very beautiful.

Well. Thank you, Mrs. Strange.

Most helpful.

You're wrong about Neville, you know.

We were married for eight years.

He would never kill anyone for money.

I do wish you'd believe it.

There was any peculiarities yet, sir?

They're all bloody peculiar, if you ask
me.

Audrey is a different cousin.

She lost her parents when she was nine,
and my family took her in.

She and the second Mrs. Strange haven't
been getting on too well, have they,

sir? I can't say that I've noticed.

Do you know we found Mr. Strange's
fingerprints on the weapon?

Yes, he told us. And some blood on the
sleeves of his jacket, the same group as

Lady Tressilia transpired.

Do you think he did it, Mr. Royne? I
think it's most unlikely. Can you think

anyone who seems more likely?

No, I can't. Don't lie to her.

We're now beginning to think the
murderer was left -handed. Well, then,

narrows down your options, doesn't it,
Superintendent?

Tippi?

We're on our way.

I'd taken my senna and was getting into
bed when my lady's bell rang.

Did you notice what time it was?

25 past 10.

Then as I went down, I spotted Mr
Neville on the stairs.

He was just going out.

Did you see what he was wearing?

His grey double -breasted.

He did look worried.

Then I went into her ladyship and she
was so drowsy, poor dear, she couldn't

remember why she'd rung.

Is there anyone who doesn't like you
very much, Mr Strange? I don't think so.

Someone you might have injured in any
way.

Well, there is one person, my first
wife, Audrey.

But I can assure you she doesn't hate
me. She's behaved like an angel. You're

very lucky man, Mr Strange.

I can't say I'd like the case against
you, but it would have stood up in

probably hanged you.

Sorry, I don't understand.

After you left her last night, Lady
Tricillian...

Rang for her maid.

Then Barrett must have seen her... Alive
and well.

What's more, before she went in to her
mistress, she saw you leaving the house.

But the niblick, my fingerprint... No,
she must have been killed with something

else. The club put there to throw
suspicion on you, except because you're

-handed.

Are you sure there's no one who'd like
to see you hang?

We took Mr. Strange across at 10 .30
last night.

Did you see him after that?

Did you see him after that? No, sir, we
didn't bring him back.

Have you come across a bloke called
Latimer?

Edward Latimer, staying over at Easter
Head? Oh, yes, yes, handsome young chap.

Looks a bit foreign.

Could be him.

Didn't see him last night, sir.

Though I did see him this morning, he
popped over first thing.

Came back a few hours ago.

Wait, sir.

Neville came over last night.

He was very down in the mouth over
something.

Told me he'd had a row with Lady
Tresillian.

And I know things have been a bit ropey
with him and Kay.

Seemed quite glad to see me for once.

Couldn't find you at first, I
understand.

Can't think why.

I was here.

All the time, sir.

Well, I may have strolled out for a bit.

Do you know, there was a real stink here
last night.

Strange notice, the two.

Trains, I suppose.

or a dead rat under the floorboards. So
when Mr Strange had found you... We

played billiards. We had a drink or two,
and then I drove him back.

He'd missed the ferry by then, and I
dropped him off around 2 .30.

Oh, just one more thing.

You popped over to Gull's Point this
morning, didn't you?

Yes.

Any particular reason?

To pay my respects.

Not that they've ever paid me any,
but...

You like to do the right thing, don't
you?

Well, he's too pleased with himself for
my taste, sir.

He's just the type that'd smash his own
granny dead if he thought he could get

away with it. Why would he do it,
though? He doesn't stand a game. Well,

bit fudgy about what he's done before a
strange trapped him now.

Oh, I don't believe it.

Superintendent, Inspector, I'm so glad
I've caught you. You seem to pop up

everywhere, don't you, Miss Marple? Yes,
I do, don't I?

Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but we
really must get on. Oh, I quite

understand, Superintendent.

It's all very convenient, isn't it? What
is, Miss Marple?

The inhibiting poor Barrett in a coma. A
little too convenient, perhaps. Makes

the culprit look rather foolish, don't
you think?

And if the culprit were, for the sake of
argument, Mr Strange, he may be many

things, but a fool he certainly isn't.

Miss Marple, we really don't have the
time. Well, you see, if it weren't

premeditated, why would he be carrying
the niblick? And just supposing it was

Strange, purely hypothetical, of course,
he'd have had to have been very cross

indeed to have suddenly lashed out. And
this is a man known for his even temper.

It's the ferry, sir. And if it were
premeditated and he drug Barrett so she

couldn't hear the bell, why on earth
would he leave the niblick for all to

Doesn't quite add up, does it,
Superintendent?

All aboard the ferry!

Oh.

Something else.

Sir, we've got to go.

Knobs.

I beg your pardon? The fender knobs in
the bedroom next door to the first

bathroom. I popped in there this morning
by mistake, and one of them seemed to

be different from the other. Of course,
it might have been my imagination.

Please don't let me detain you.

You don't want to miss the boat now, do
you?

No, no.

That's it.

That's what she meant. The left one is
brighter than the right.

Check them out, Joan.

I'm worried, Thomas.

Really very worried.

Mr. Tree... Why are you worrying about
him?

Well, I've been wondering.

That story he told about the child who
shot the arrow.

Why exactly he told it?

There's prints on the right -hand one,
sir, but none on the left.

And this is the one we want.

Those prints will be the maids, which
means this one has been cleaned totally.

I've been trying to remember.

He told it so very deliberately, and he
said he recognised the person, as though

he already had.

I mean, why should he do that?

You don't think he knew Camilla was
going to be murdered, do you?

I don't think that's very likely.

A word, if I may, sir. One second a
minute.

You inherit, as I understand it, half
the late Sir Matthew's estate. Am I

sir? Yes, that's right.

Who inherits the other half?

I told you, my wife.

Yes, but which one, Mr Strange?

Audrey, of course. She was my wife when
the will was made.

The bequest is quite simply worded. Our
divorce makes no difference whatsoever.

I take it Mrs Audrey Strange is fully
aware of this?

Yes. And the present, Mrs Strange?

Kay.

I expect she is.

We've never really talked much about it.
I think you'll find, sir, that she's

under the misapprehension that the money
comes to you and the present, Mr

Strange. How extraordinary.

Well, you know, now I come to think of
it, she has mentioned it once or twice,

but I always assumed she was just
associating herself with my share of it.

Amazing, isn't it, sir, how husbands and
wives can go on to one another without

having the faintest clue what either
one's rabbiting on about?

Well, it doesn't matter much anyway.
It's not as though we're short of money.

Whereas it will make a big difference to
Audrey.

But surely, sir, since the divorce,
she's been entitled to an allowance.

Too proud, superintendent.

She's always persisted in refusing the
allowance I wish to make her.

Now, that is interesting.

Thank you, sir.

lurking around, aren't you? I didn't
know you were in here.

Bad smell.

Oh, she's got it down to a teed -up,
pathetic little look.

And Neville's fallen for it hook, line
and sinker. No, Kay, that's not it.

Well, you won't get him. And you won't
get his money either. You've got it all

wrong. I've got you bang on from the
start.

You're a steaming little bitch.

And the sooner you get out of our lives,
the better.

No. Don't.

What are you doing?

I was just... I was... Oh, my poor
darling.

There's nothing I want anymore.

You're so unhappy, aren't you?

I'm shivering.

Audrey, I understand.

I do understand.

You'll always be mine.

Dear, oh, dear. Oh, Donald, you are
naughty.

Down!

He's very excited, isn't he?

I'm so sorry, Miss Marple. He just seems
to be getting worse and worse.

He's simply honking, isn't he? Yeah,
yes, he does seem to be.

You can smell him for miles.

I caught him bouncing on a dead fish
down on the beach.

I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you,
Donald? Oh, he did.

He found it flat out amongst the rock.

I tried washing him in the sea, but it
didn't make a bit of difference. He

a good soaping, don't you, Donald?

Do you know, I smelt exactly the same
thing in the billiards room the other

night. Donald had run off again, naughty
boy.

I looked simply everywhere for him.

When I popped into the billiards room,
it hit me.

I still couldn't find him. Which night
was that, Miss Brinton?

Oh, I can't remember exactly, but that
nice Mr Latimer was there with the

tennis... Claire. Woo.

The same smell.

You see? Oh, Donald, really?

Oh, Donald!

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.
Thank you for gathering again at short

notice. I realise it's an inconvenience
to have a house full of policemen when

you're trying to digest your breakfast,
but there are one or two things.

Who does this belong to?

Is it yours, Mrs Strange?

No. No, it isn't mine.

Miss Alden?

No, it's not my colour.

And it's certainly not mine.

Are you sure it isn't yours, Mrs
Strange? Perhaps you'd like to try it

already told you, my lad. It isn't hers.

It's not fit.

Maybe it is mine.

I'm always losing them.

It probably is yours, Mrs. Strange. I
found it outside your window, pushed

into the ivy along with its pair.

Look here, Superintendent.

I don't have a word.

We've been finding some very curious
things, Mr Strange.

This, for instance.

Which consists, as you see, of a steel
fender knob screwed and taped into the

handle of a tennis racket.

Little doubt, I would surmise, that this
is what was used to kill Lady

Tresillian.

Where on earth did you find that?

Looks like Audrey's old racket.

The knob had been cleaned and put back
on the fender.

But the murderer had neglected to clean
the screw. We found a trace of blood on

that, Mr Strange.

In the same way, the handle and the head
of the tennis racket have been taped

together again and thrown into a
cupboard, where they would doubtless

remained, if Detective Sergeant Jones
hadn't been looking for something of the

kind. Any fingerprints?

Just one, on the tape binding the
racket.

Of course you're not going to tell me
whose print it is.

The jacket you wore at dinner on the
night of the murder had brown hairs on

collar. They're mine, I suppose.

They were a lady's hair, sir.

And red hairs on the sleeve.

I expect they'd be Kate's.

And the other... They might be Audrey's.
I caught my cuff link in her hair the

other night.

In which case the brown hairs would be
on the cuff.

What exactly are you implying?

There's a trace of powder on the inside
of the jacket collar.

The same as used by Audrey Strange.

Which suggests to me that on some
occasion she must have worn it.

And then there are the gloves.

This is the left -hand one, stained with
blood.

She is left -handed, isn't she?

To strike Lady Tresillian with the right
hand would have been very awkward, the

bed being where it was.

But for a left -handed person, no
trouble at all.

Are you quite sure this little get
-together was your idea, sir?

You're suggesting that Audrey killed
Lady Tresillian just to get her hands on

the money? I'm not suggesting anything
of the sort.

From first to last, this crime has been
directed at you, Mr Strange.

Ever since you left her, she's been
brooding on how to get her revenge.

In the end, she decided to have you
hanged for murder.

She chose an evening when you'd
quarrelled with Lady Tresillian. Wore

jacket so it would be stained with
blood. Left your niblick in the room

we'd find your prints on it. But the one
thing she couldn't account for... was

her ladyship ringing for Barrett, which
meant that Barrett saw you leaving the

house. Can't be true. I swear to God, it
cannot be true.

Audrey's never borne a grudge against
me.

You have the whole thing wrong.

He's right, Superintendent.

You see, I don't believe that Mr Strange
did leave Audrey at all.

I rather think that she left him for
Adrian Royd.

Isn't that so, Mr Strange?

When Audrey was taken in by the Royd
family, a great rivalry developed

the two boys, but then she married Mr.
Strange and that was an end to the

matter.

Adrian, however, bided his time and
finally made his move.

They planned to run away together.

Then Adrian was killed in a car
accident.

That is the reason Audrey went to
pieces.

Mr. Strange behaved with the utmost
chivalry.

He arranged that she should divorce him.

And that he would take the blame.

I didn't know anyone knew.

One hears things.

See things.

Gradually a picture forms.

So, Audrey has no reason to hate Neville
Strange. On the contrary, she has every

reason to be grateful. And when he
arranged this visit, she didn't feel she

could refuse.

Audrey Strange, Superintendent, has no
motive.

Motives one thing, facts are another.

Facts showed that I was guilty not so
long ago.

Am I being asked to believe that there's
someone who hates both you and Audrey

Strange? Someone who, should the plot
against you fail, have laid a trail that

led directly to her?

Do you know of such a person, Mr
Strange?

Do you, Miss Marple?

Superintendent.

May I have a word, please?

You want me, don't you?

Mrs. Strange, I have a warrant for your
arrest on the charge of murdering

Camilla Tresillian on Monday last
September 10th.

I must caution you that anything you say
will be taken down and may be used in

evidence at your trial.

It's all Mr. Rees. No, no, Audrey, say
nothing.

But why not, Neville?

I'm glad it's over.

I always knew it was you.

I knew you were after something.

Didn't I tell you, Neville? Kay, please.
Oh, shut up, Kay, for God's sake. Why

don't you look after her?

All right.

I should take you away from a lot of
them.

Let me come with you. No, Neville.

You stay.

Is there anything I can do, Audrey?

Dear Tommen.

I'd better call my sinister.

Of course, Mr. Strange, but first
there's a little something I have in

things to do, Superintendent.

I hope this won't take long.

It won't, miss.

I wish you'd tell us what you're up to,
Mallard.

Will do, sir.

Don't you worry.

Keep rest, Mrs. Strange. Very good for
Norvia.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, what a very
odd case this has been.

One of the oddest I've ever known.

And in keeping with the pervading
oddness, I'd like to ask Miss Marple

take the floor.

Miss Marple.

Thank you, Superintendent.

What the hell is this? A WI meeting?

The sooner you shut up, Mr Latimer, the
sooner we can get back. I'll be as quick

as I can, I assure you.

Poor Mr Treves, the night he died, said
something quite pertinent.

The detective stories usually begin with
the murder itself, but from his long

career at the bar, he'd observed...

But murder usually comes at the end.

Zero hour, he called it, and it's zero
hour now.

Lady Tresillian's death, you mean?

No, Miss Alden, not Lady Tresillian's
death. I am talking of the murder of

Audrey Strange.

You see, this is a crime that has long
been planned down to the smallest

with one object and one object only.

But Audrey Strange should be hanged by
the neck until she was dead.

And very cunning it was, too.

First, there was the faked evidence
against Neville Strange.

Which we were meant to see through.

Yes, indeed. And having been presented
with one lot of faked evidence... It

wasn't thought likely we'd consider a
second edition.

But when you come to look at it, all the
evidence against Audrey Strange could

have been faked.

The weapon taken from her fireplace, the
gloves hidden in the ivy, the prints

found on the roll of tape taken from her
room.

And then there was the way she behaved
when she was arrested.

Practically admitted her guilt, didn't
she?

But if Audrey was a victim, why arrest
her?

I have to do my duty, sir. We have to
act on the evidence. And at the time,

there was no evidence to the contrary.

Until Miss Marple came along.

By chance, I was chatting to a fellow
guest at the hotel, a young lady by the

name of Diana Brinton.

The girl with that pesky little dog?
Yes. Yes, Donald.

Donald? A pleasant young girl, but
possessed of rather a fanciful

She reads a lot of historical novels,
you see. And she happened to mention

seeing late one night, the night of the
murder, in fact, a figure on the other

side of the bay. A figure?

What exactly do you mean? Well, a
figure.

A figure getting out of the water and
climbing a rope which hung from a window

up there. Well, I, of course, thought
nothing of it.

Late at night, she may have been half
asleep, and as I say, she has an active

imagination. But in the light of later
events, I began to think there might be

some substance to what she'd said.

So it was an outsider, after all.

Someone who came from the other side of
the river, yes.

Someone who wasn't seen between 10 .30
and a quarter past eleven that night.

And who might have swum across and back.

Hey, Mr. Latimer.

But I can't swim.

Everybody knows I can't swim, Kate. Tell
them.

Yeah, Mr. Lassen.

Pushed him.

She pushed him. Didn't anyone think?

He can't swim, can he? I told you that.

Teddy!

What's going on?

Betty. Oh, Betty.

Oh, Betty.

See what you've done.

Are you all right, Mr. Latimer?

If he's not all right, you might have
killed him.

No chance of that, Mrs. Strange.

Jones here is highly proficient in the
life -saving department.

And look on the bright side.

At least it's eliminated him from our
inquiries.

And he can't have been Mr. Royd climbing
that rope because of his arm.

Which brings us to you, doesn't it, Mr.
Strange?

Are you seriously suggesting I swam
across the river, climbed into the

killed Lady Tressilian, and then swam
back again?

Yes, we are.

Simply extraordinary.

And what about the rope?

You left it there yourself before you
caught the ferry.

So, in other words, I framed myself, did
I?

I rather think you did.

Priceless.

Absolutely priceless.

And why the hell should I want to kill
Camilla?

You didn't.

But you did want to hang the woman who'd
left you for another man. And the fact

that it entailed killing a woman who'd
been something like a mother to you

didn't seem to worry you in the least.

You're a bit unhinged, aren't you?

I'm not the one who's unhinged. Happily
never since you were a kid.

I looked up that old bow and arrow case.
See, it was the same then, wasn't it?

Anyone who does you an injury has to be
punished.

Flicked you on the raw, didn't it, when
Audrey left you? So you had to think up

something special for her. And what
better than to get her hanged?

Pity you didn't have the brains to pull
it off.

All that niblick stuff.

Powder on the collar, hair on the cuffs.

We knew what you were up to all along.

Laughing into our sleeves, weren't we,
Miss Marple? I'm afraid it was all

childish. But you see, like so many
murderers, you thought you were being so

clever, when in fact you were being
really rather stupid.

Stupid?

Stupid?

It was the perfect plan.

Worked out to the last detail, and you
never would have guessed it if you, Miss

Marple, weren't such a...

insufferable busybody. Watch it,
Strange.

And if that old fool treat hadn't set
you all thinking.

Because he recognised your long little
finger, didn't he, Mr Strange?

Which is why you rushed round to his
hotel and put the sign on the lift,

full well the state of the poor man's
heart.

He deserved it.

And so does Audrey.

She deserves everything she's going to
get.

How dare she run off and leave me?

Me, for the miserable little bastard
Adrian Royd.

He shall hang.

You've got to hang her.

And I want to be there to hear her lousy
neck crack.

I was afraid of him as soon as we were
married.

A word or a look.

But then I'd fancy I'd imagined him and
that I was mad.

And so it was for years until Adrian
reappeared and told me he still loved

And suddenly my world fell into place.

We were planning to run away together.

And that's why he was down here just a
year ago.

But the day I went to meet him, he never
came.

Killed in a crash.

And I can't help thinking that Neville
had something to do with it.

I think you might be right.

Neville was very solicitous, said no one
need know, and that I could divorce

him.

I felt so grateful, but I never felt I'd
really escaped.

When he suggested we should all come
down here, I couldn't refuse.

The story Mr. Tree has told, the out -of
-water sign on the lift, even when

Camilla was killed, I didn't make the
connection.

When did you realize?

When he was cleared.

I saw him looking at me, and I knew.

And you, Miss Marple?

One thing, then another. The smell in
the hotel, for instance, which that girl

recognised in the billiards room when Mr
Strange was here. It suddenly came to

me, perhaps he himself was the source of
it. And I could only think of one way

in which he would have come into contact
with a dead fish.

He must be quite a strong swimmer,
because he had very little time.

My theory was confirmed when I saw a
piece of wet rope in the box room.

Then, after he'd got back into the
house, he put on his other suit, took

weapon which he had fixed beforehand,
and made his way to Camilla's room.

We won't go into that.

Then, he slipped back out of his
clothes, down the rope, swam back here

Mr. Latimer. Then after Mr. Latimer had
driven him back, he had all night to

clear up his traces and set the scene.

Then, of course, there was the bell.

The bell?

Oh, by Camilla's bed.

I nearly got it the morning after the
murder when I saw a window pole and the

bell wires on the ceiling.

Ah, it was... Very, very clever of Mr.
Strange.

He rang the bell to Barrett from outside
in the passage after his row with

Camilla so that when Barrett came down
she'd see him leave and thus he'd have

his alibi.

Poor Camilla didn't know what she'd rung
for because she hadn't rung at all.

He struck her.

Backhanded, by the way.

His backhand was always his strong
point.

Good morning, Miss Marple.

Good morning.

Oh, Donald, come here.

Is that the girl before Neville climbing
the rope?

Yes, it is.

If it weren't for her, I must thank her.
No, no, no, my dear. Don't move. I've

nearly finished.

It was raining, wasn't it?

The night of the murder?

Yes, it was.

If you'd just... She must have awfully

good eyesight.

Yes.

Perhaps she eats her carrots.

Miss Marple.

Well...

As the superintendent says, the police
have to act on evidence, so I thought

help them along a bit by suggesting
there was a witness.

Fortunately, Mr Strange's confession has
rendered that redundant.

So what you imagined actually happened?

Do you have a gift for this sort of
thing, Miss Marble?

Yes, sometimes I think I do.

Miss Mother, would it spoil your sketch
if I... No, no.

Of course not, my dear.