Original subtitles

Go in there, please. Please do not listen to what I'm saying.

Please listen to me. No, please, please.

Kate,

my dear chap, I wouldn't ask, only it's a matter of considerable national

importance. Oh, isn't it always?

We've had the most tremendous approach from Vienna.

Go on.

Well, now that the Austrians are a nice neutral bunch, they're very keen to be

friends with us Brits. Well, what's the offer?

Iron ore.

We go in, help them put their heavy industry back on its feet, take home all

the iron ore we need.

The PM can scarcely believe his luck.

Anyway, Vienna's sending over an envoy, Count Ludwig.

I've been tasked with sitting the Count down, putting pen to paper and getting

him to sign the contract.

Somewhere green and pleasant and above all discreet.

Then you've thought of chimneys.

Well, you know, weekend house party, good food. Hello, John. Just like the

old days, eh? What is it?

Do the eyes have it? Well, actually, I was thinking of going on holiday next

month. Oh, nonsense. Nobody goes on holiday in September.

Besides, we're practically family, you and I, once we bring that girl of yours

to her senses.

We're not as we were. The house is in some disrepair.

Oh, perfect.

Faded grandeur.

Adds to the flavor.

It'll need to be low-key. Indeed so.

Intuit. Discreet. One or two guests.

Sensitively chosen.

Of course, the Continental was such a fearful response.

I'll send my best chap round to help with the setting up. Bill Eversley.

Yours, sir.

How do you do?

But why Chimneys? It's years since we gave a party. Decades.

Not since 32.

Show him the letter.

The... From Count Quigley.

Here we are.

Fourth para.

Halfway down.

I have heard that Chimney is the most prized house in England.

And would count it a singular honour to see that jewelled palace for myself.

It is a memory I am most eager to cherish.

Never! Ever!

Touch mother's bicycle again.

Are you all right?

Can you stand?

Oh, yes, I... Well, that's the main thing.

Once you're up on your pins, then life seems far.

Full of possibility?

Indeed.

Not that I was purely concerned about poor mother's bicycle, you understand.

Well, I should hope not.

Well, I think the tap got the message, don't you?

Yeah.

And there he was, galloping into Pavely on his iron horse. I mean, it really was

the most idiotically chivalrous... What?

What do you mean?

You are as absurdly romantic as your dear mother. Oh, no, no, no, no. Woof,

woof, wrong train.

Honestly, you couldn't be more unsuitable. No cash, no prospects.

Oh, well, then.

Yes, quite.

Case closed.

And anyway, he's been quite standoffish with me this past week.

I expect he's bored of me. Don't you? Oh, yes.

Does he have a name?

Sir Anthony K.

Only without the knighthood.

Oh,

dear.

I was just thinking.

Your poor MP.

Oh, God.

George Lomax won't be the least bit put off.

On the contrary.

Not another ultimatum. I have until Sunday night to consent to be Mrs George

Lomax. Or what?

He invades Poland, I suppose.

Anyway, the terms are most generous.

He'll put Daddy up in a mansion flat in town, which is all he wants since Lamar

passed away.

And he'll even pay to stop the chimneys from falling apart, which I suppose is

jolly good for the family.

If you marry him.

She'll be grateful, obviously.

Well, I'm not sure gratitude is the basis for a happy marriage.

Well, no, no.

Not that I'm any sort of expert. No, no, no, no. Mummy always said you were the

most eminently sensible of all her cousins.

Oh.

Well, she certainly made a splendid marriage.

Oh, it should be so simple, shouldn't it? Being happy.

I mean, one ought to see it and just know.

Well, now that I've got you here, we are going to have a riot, you and I.

My last weekend as an eligible spinster.

Are you game?

Well, I'll do my best.

Are you quite sure it's all right with your father having me along?

Oh, Daddy's thrilled.

And anyway, you have me down to St. Marymead. It's only fair I return the

thing.

Here, look.

Page 17.

Isn't he a dish?

Oh.

Anthony Cade.

Some passing whim.

Virginia's innocent, easily learned, still part of her town.

Perhaps without a bit of fun, sir.

Oh, Eversley, my short-trousered chum.

We must all learn to put away childish things.

I think he's not bringing Cade along, is he? No, sir. He's coming with a Miss

Marple. Do we know her?

Not that I'm aware of. I thought you were across the Gatsby.

Oh, I am.

Absolutely.

Marple. Some fresh-hatched little debutante.

Something for you, Eversley.

Regarding Virginia, I trust you harbour no ambitions of your own?

What a question. Because that wouldn't do at all, Eversley.

One wouldn't want you to be hurt.

No chance of that, sir.

Yes, Treadwell?

Your guest has arrived, sir.

Already?

Shoulders back, cometh the hour.

Watch and learn.

Letters for posting on his lordship's table. Send them express, if you'd be so

kind.

Count Ludwig.

Good morning.

Ludwig. Oh, look.

He's practically licking his shoes.

The Count might think it's some sort of quaint British custom.

So much the better. Indeed.

A lovely house, yes.

Like he's from another age.

I wonder if he speaks any English.

Well, how much English do you need to sign a cheque?

Me metal, you... Madeline?

Ten press-ups for parts Virginia.

Virginia.

Dealing to pay his visit?

Yes. I didn't hear you come in.

Hello, Daddy.

I'm so sorry, darling.

Ah, dear Jane.

Clement. It's been, well... Yes, not since the funeral.

You've been so kind to my daughter since we lost Madeline.

How's your garden?

Hardly thriving, I'm afraid.

Daddy, you might have made a bit of an effort.

Oh, pay no attention to me. I'm just the odd job man these days.

Oh, look.

I see you've invited that nice lady from National Heritage.

Hold a blink and sort.

No.

No.

No.

Oh, Barlow, don't get cross.

She was very keen to be invited. When she's banned, we agree.

Yes, but the National Heritage have made a very sensible offer.

It's been in the family for centuries. It is family.

It has been, darling. You know we can't afford to keep the case on.

We will manage.

We always do.

Well, she's on good form.

National Heritage has taken on 13 homes and gardens in the county.

A baker's dozen.

Built for the few, fit for the many. That's the England I fought for. Thank

you. Which front were you on, Miss Livingstone?

Still, you'd be amazed how these old places fill up.

Homes of the former great draw such a crowd, especially at weekends.

Once we get that patch sorted out... That patch? These gardens were designed

by Capability Brown.

Oh, well, dear. I suppose we all have our off days.

High society, Eversley. What did I say?

Embellish the scene, sir. Embellish the scene.

Scientists. Captains of industry.

What do you bring me? Mrs. Mop and Mrs. Bucket.

Cajun says they're both first class.

If you get a bit of gin down them.

Oh, does he?

Problem?

Not at all, sir.

Very, uh, diverse guest list. Good.

I should join in.

Was this your doing?

George will have to take her if he finds her.

What?

Marry me.

Bill.

Never propose on an empty stomach.

Ask me again after supper.

Don't you have to be somewhere?

Ouchy, isn't it?

What have you done to your hair?

Not a thing.

Sweet of you to notice, darling.

You haven't forgotten that you promised me an answer by Sunday night.

The clock is ticking.

I'm sorry.

Forgive me, but you all look so perfect.

Like you had stepped out of a photograph.

Count Ludwig, allow me to introduce Clement Revel, 9th Marcus of Caterham.

How do you do?

The honour is entirely mine.

You need a good diamond.

And these are your two little revels.

Would you indulge a fading gift?

Well, why not?

I do let feet, so why don't you try hers? Because everyone else...

Your sense of rhythm.

Such graceful dance.

Well, they all are, aren't they?

Still hardly the most practical accomplishment.

Is this your first visit to our shores?

No, I am an investor at itinerant, I'm afraid.

Or I was.

Once upon a time.

Gemein, now you are laughing at me. No, no, no, no. It's just your English.

It's plenty.

I had a highly disciplined teacher, you see. She taught me only...

Inveterate itinerant.

Inveterate itinerant.

Inveterate itinerant.

Inveterate itinerant. Inveterate itinerant.

Your dinner is getting cold.

Ah, here they go. And second.

Barnwood, will you lead on?

Yes, please.

Miss Blankensock, after you.

Follow me, lady.

Very good, you're with us.

Show me.

It's splendid dinner. Thank you. Yes, very filling.

Forgive my asking, sir. You're interested in my house.

Is it for architecture?

No, no, no. I have no head for grand design for architecture.

Your painting.

It's not most of a decent one. We still have our Van Dyck.

Oh, I see.

And who is this fellow?

Some old duke. Oh, Richmond.

Duke old.

Richmond.

So... If it's not the art or the architecture, then... Oh, history.

Great men rumoured to have met within these walls.

Treaties, affairs of state, wars even.

The Garland ended here over coffee and cigars.

Oh, nothing so biblical, I assure you. Oh, he's being modest, aren't you,

Caterham? Chimneys had quite a reputation.

So what happened?

What was that?

We ran into some boulder.

The party of 1932.

Oh, that old yard.

Well, we come back from an embassy posting.

Caracas. It was my last one, as it turned out. It was before Virginia was

born.

Anyway, it was quite a night.

Your mother always gave wonderful parties. We'd a band out in the garden.

Oh, I remember, Dory, yes.

You were there yourself, weren't you, George?

Helping out.

I was accompanying Lady Somerset. It was most instructive.

Is that it? Yes.

Yes. Where is that?

The road guard.

Ah. Our lovely Viennese.

La, la, la.

Anyway, there was a bit of a to-do because the Duchess of Somerset had

borrowed a large brooch for the evening on her... Large brooch, Daddy? It was

the Mysore diamond from India, possibly the most revered diamond in the world.

Well, whatever it was, by breakfast time it had disappeared.

Stolen by some good-for-nothing parlour maid named Agnes.

Parlour maid?

What an English saga.

The maid vanished overnight.

Isn't that right?

And the diamond was never, ever to be found again.

Anyone for more coffee?

Oh, yes, please.

So, what sort of girl was she, then?

Agnes.

What did nobody notice?

Well, only 19 years old. She must have lost her head, I suppose.

Anyway, it meant the end of my career in the diplomatic service.

rather shameful.

Well, if the lady is conspiring, to business.

Indeed, yes.

I give you business.

You want our iron, Mr. Lomax MP?

Well, naturally. I make one request.

Chimneys.

Give me chimneys.

It's a personal favour. And in return, I guarantee, you can pick home all the

riches your heart desires.

Well, I'm not sure... We are not for sale.

Not for sale.

Tell them.

Why don't you all try a hand at bridge?

Yes.

You're quite sure?

Very well.

Then mark your cross here.

Now count. Be kind enough to sign. With great pleasure.

What time is this? If you'd all like to gather downstairs.

I'm sorry to have to wake you all up, but one of Mr Lomax's security staff was

found unconscious.

Is that so?

That's right, sir. Roberts.

All present and correct, Eversley? Indeed so.

I believe we're one short.

The Count.

Out for the Count.

I'm not surprised, considering how he was knocking it back. Eversley, see if

you can raise him.

He's not in his room, sir.

What? Where is he?

Perhaps we need a search party.

Indeed.

Jeffers, you and Robert seal off the back door, Bundle, the old servant's

quarters, Eversley, you and Miss Blankensop, the ground floor, and

Virginia and I will look upstairs.

Why can't Virginia come with me? We don't have time for this now. Why are

you always undermining... Will you do kindly to sit?

Thank you.

Now, Virginia, can you go upstairs, please, and collect Adrian P. Smith, and

Jane will remain here and keep an eye on him.

The rest of us can just as well look for ourselves, agreed?

Count? Count Ludwig?

Ludwig? Count Ludwig?

Oh, I wonder, do you think that's wise?

Probably not.

What about you?

Why not?

Seems ages since we talked, you and I.

I think Madeline rather lost touch with you over the years.

One grows apart, I think.

I suppose.

Still, I'm so grateful that you keep an eye on Virginia for me.

A father can only do so much.

And this past year, since Madeline... Well, it's not been

easy.

I gather you're hoping to move to London.

Not if Bundle can help it.

Our poor child.

It's not a real home she's ever known, you see.

The truth is, memories are no consolation.

Not even the good ones.

I brought your medicine.

Thank God for my darling girls.

Daddy?

George, not now. That sounded almost like... Is that a gunshot?

Someone close that door.

Well, where is it? Any sign?

Did you hear it? I think Arthur County heard it. Well, it can't have just

vanished. Are there no doorways, no outbuildings?

You don't think our... Our little door.

There should be torches on the wall.

Yes. Come on, Jane.

What is that?

Black? Looks like it.

Anthony? I think he's been shot.

Run.

Run. Run.

Run. Run.

Run.

Run. Can you hear me? Is he breathing? Check his pulse.

Can you hear me?

It wasn't me.

I can't find a pulse.

I think he's dead.

It wasn't me!

He was such an enchanting man.

Virginia! It's our guest.

She was a perfectly innocent person.

Virginia!

Let's go, then.

Don't you dare.

Tim, come back.

Virginia! Anthony!

My love.

Anthony! You can't go in there, miss. Well, may I at least speak to him? I'm

sorry, miss. Oh, please.

Please.

What are you even doing here? Virginia.

You must promise me something.

Anything. Please.

Promise me you'll forget me.

Good to see you again. Inspector Finch, the guru of Scotland Yard.

Finch?

Looks quite like a cat, don't you think?

I love cats!

I gather he has BVPs all over the Home Office.

They regard him as some sort of mystic. A bit like Julian of Norwich, only with

powers of arrest.

What do we know of the victim?

Born in Vienna, 1892.

Wealthy parents.

Travelled about a good deal in his youth.

Something of a wandering spirit.

Entered politics soon after the war.

I can get my chap to find you a place in the town. No need. I shall be staying in

chimneys. Murder rarely keeps officers out.

Hello.

A bit of fresh air.

Politically, this could be a disaster.

Indeed.

So the lady's retired early.

We had some business.

Not relevant.

He wanted to buy chimneys.

He wanted to buy chimneys.

Well, the proposal was that the government would purchase the house and

then pass it on to Count Ludwig as a gift.

A bribe?

Don't be absurd.

A personal bribe, in return for which he hands over a share of their heavy

industry.

Where do we stand on that, morally?

Well back, I'd have thought.

Is there paperwork for this sale?

Signed, sealed, and in my room on the top drawer.

All academic now, of course.

Understood.

As one door closes, another stands ajar, Lord Caterham. Yes.

Indeed.

So you gentlemen retired at... About a quarter to 11.

Until we were woken by the fire bell. Mr Lomax!

What time?

20 to midnight.

We all met downstairs?

No sign of the Count, so off we went, looking for him.

All save Clement and myself.

Next thing, boom!

The gunshot.

He was in the passageway all along.

Just a few yards away.

Any fingerprints on the weapon?

Regrettably not.

Still, we have the culprit.

Anthony Cade.

He has one or two questions to answer, certainly.

Now see the body. I should take you there at once.

Thank you. Or perhaps, Miss... Marple? Marple, yes, if it's no inconvenience.

Oh.

Well, Miss Moore.

What was he doing here?

Almost an hour after he went to bed.

He showed an interest over dinner in the Van Dyke portrait.

I suppose the Count could have returned.

Private viewing?

I suppose.

And chanced upon the secret door?

Except that nothing quite happens by chance, does it? Not really.

Or is that my tidy-minded preference?

You'd have a man with you.

I'm sorry?

Well, inspectors nowadays tend to have a man with them.

Oh. Well, perhaps you prefer to muse alone.

Perhaps no man would have me.

Oh. It's blood.

He was shot here.

And crawled, staggered, almost dragged.

This a way where he was found in the arms of Mr. Cade.

Here. Before falling on Port Virginia. Here.

All fairly straightforward, apparently.

Aha.

A letter?

Not quite.

A treble clef.

A virtuoso.

Perhaps you could take this and study it for me, Miss Marple.

Very well.

The Count said something before he died.

Want.

Want. Want?

Are you sure?

Mm-hmm.

Meaning?

Well, I suppose we all want something, even at death's door.

A kiss of life, perhaps.

How did you get here?

I climbed over the wall. I was eager to get up to the house, and this gentleman

was blocking the path.

Do you mind, sir?

Well, as I remember...

It came from around here.

Then I spotted the gentleman.

I panicked.

And then... You hit him.

Yes. I am sorry about that.

Using this?

Exactly.

What time was that?

11.33, precisely.

I remember because I looked at my wristwatch.

I envy your eyesight, Mr Cade.

You see, that's the thing.

I know because there was a light on in one of the upstairs rooms.

It was first story and then second to the right.

Now, I can remember because... because someone had lit a fire. Rather a warm

night for a fire. Well, there was definitely smoke coming out of the

chimney above.

Anyway, at this stage, common sense sounded the retreat.

Did you hear the warning? Well, sadly, common sense and I are no longer on

speaking terms. So I carried on along here and through the door.

And then I came down here.

Opened the trap door.

And then I heard the gunshot.

Ah, good God.

He'd been shot already?

Yes. Any idea who shot him?

Afraid not. And yet the revolver three feet from where you're standing, a

victim at your heel. I swear I never saw any revolver.

Mr Cade, may one ask what you were actually doing here?

Yes, well, I did wonder when you'd get around to asking that.

The truth is, I couldn't let Lomax have his way without putting up a fight.

His way with Virginia?

Yes. I thought to myself, just...

Sit tight and then burp in the breakfast and give you all a fright.

You don't need to do that.

The constable found this in your pocket.

Oh.

Any idea who wrote it?

Dear Cade, come to Chimneys. There's a trap door in the garden, 11.45.

Shop.

What? I didn't like this.

Sure, Mr Cade seems to think... Not my style.

A love note is not something you just dash off.

That's what you're sniggering at.

I'm sorry.

Idiot. May I see?

Hand it over.

It appears from the postmark to have been sent locally. Express service as

late as yesterday morning.

So none of you sent this letter?

How's this for a hypothesis?

Haid typed the letter himself.

Takes the train down to the village and posts it.

All in a cynical bid to ensnare Virginia.

Rubbish. I was having tea with them yesterday morning at the Lion's Corner

house on the Edgware Road.

And it was very nice.

Mr Lomax, your room is second from the end, isn't it?

So? There was a light on there last night, just before the alarm sounded.

Rubbish. Says who?

Who? Cade.

Blatant attempt to put you off your game, Inspector.

Anthony.

I told you.

I'm not worth a sacrifice.

I'm not worth a sacrifice.

If you would be so good as to remain at Chimneys until further notice.

What about him? You're not going to let him wander about?

Oh, we'll keep an eye on him.

Keep an eye on all of you.

He's quite perverse, isn't he?

He was such a music.

The point of a tune is to boost the morale, surely?

Indeed. May I help?

Oh, Treadwell, the very man. Where's that musical handbook of Virginia's? You

know the one?

Kids of the place?

The very Nelly. Come.

Hard

at

it, Miss Martin.

Inspector, it's...

I'm a little lost.

One can hardly see where one bar ends and the next begins.

I'm sorry, forgive me. It's hardly music at all.

Could it be... Oh, forgive me.

Go on. Oh, well, I wonder, is it possible it is in fact a message

of some sort?

In code.

What were you thinking of? We know nothing about the

man or his people. I know he's funny and reckless and his mother has a jolly nice

bicycle. Which I happen to think counts for more than a dozen columns.

And who's who?

He ran a bar. Oh, how philanthropic. In Africa.

In Bulawayo. He had a friend with him. They were business partners.

And does the friend have a name? Jimmy McGrath. They did rather well.

For a time.

But Jimmy liked to drink, you see.

He gambled it all away.

Lost it all in one sitting to a gentleman from Victoria.

You've known him for less than a fortnight.

Daddy. Ah, cater him. Knock some sense into your daughter.

Oh, well, he's a brave man who dared to.

What would your mother have said?

My mother?

You presume to speak about... Always went with her heart.

Isn't that lovely?

And she raised me to do the same.

Virginia! Anthony is no murderer!

The clock is ticking.

Sliming, glittering, little.

You're bloody Lomax, the last one on earth.

I'm not meant to know. His maid is sweet on me. He sleeps with a hairnet. Can you

imagine? Don't tell me that.

It makes me like him a little bit.

I love vanity in a man.

Besides, I mean, everybody has your skeleton, don't they?

Only mine tend to leap out of the closet and dance a jiggle over the bloody

society pages.

What? No, you're allowed to swap cards if you like.

Well, I don't want to.

Well, what is it?

Plush.

Don't let me win. Just hear me out.

Sorry, can't help myself.

Thank God for you, sweetie.

Like a port in a storm.

A bit more than that, I hope.

I mean, with George in Lord Kitchener mode, and as for your pal, Mr Cade...

Don't. I'm sorry, darling, but it has to be said.

Death Row is no place for a wedding.

Not funny. Well, he quite obviously was in that tunnel while we were all in the

house.

Or were we?

Or were we?

Come on.

What's she doing?

Trying to prove her lover innocent.

How does she propose to do that?

I have no idea.

Like it or not, Mr Cade was still there in the tunnel with a smoking gun.

You arrest him?

I'm tempted.

He's careless.

All the lies he tells. The letter, that business with the light on in the house.

A man like Cade requires plenty of rope.

Like most of us.

Even you.

Am I under suspicion?

I know your secret, Miss Martin.

You are a puzzle-outer of mysteries.

I muddle through one or two. It's a matter of association, really.

My village, you see. Don't marry me.

Yes, yes.

It's a most pleasant community, and yet... The whole of life seems to pass

by my window.

More than you would expect.

You're doing it again, Inspector.

What's that?

Standing mute so that one is forced to run on and on more than ever one would

wish. I'm keeping you where I can see you, Miss Marple.

You may have disgraced half the men in my profession, but you shan't disgrace

me.

I hope not, Inspector.

I envy you, you know, the amateur sleuth. One has nothing to lose somehow.

Still, a salary is convenient.

Indeed.

If it wasn't for the generosity of my nephew, Raymond. Raymond, who I've read

in a dozen case files.

Yes.

Hardly a distinguished name.

Raymond? No, Jimneys.

Until it stands before one, and then it all makes sense.

Dozens of them.

Splendid. That great tower standing proud, so that... Which

was the window Mr Cade said was lit up on the night of the murder?

Second from the right. The MP's room.

Yes, and yet, as one approaches the spot where Mr Cade stood, a window is

obscured. Do you see?

On account of the tower?

So that what appears to be second from the right is in fact... Third from the

right.

So... Who was up and about moments before the gunshot?

Miss Treadwell?

Might I have a word, please?

At 33 minutes past 11, your bedroom light was on 12 minutes before the

gunshot. Yes, we see. Can you tell me why?

I wish to speak to Count Ludwig.

But noticing his bed was unoccupied, I returned to my room.

Any particular reason for wishing to speak to him?

Oh, he'd, um... Earlier in the evening, he'd asked for an extra blanket.

So perhaps you're a little fire.

I beg your pardon? At the same time, 11.33.

No fire at last night, I... I would have known, you see.

You know, it's funny, but yesterday I...

I really felt that you knew him.

This looks a very grand affair.

That's how they did it in those days. And this would be the orchestra at the

back here.

What sort of music do they play?

Waltzes, mainly.

Viennese waltzes?

It's him, isn't it?

There. Can't move it.

So he has been here before.

And where else but in the orchestra?

What brought you back after all these years?

Any thoughts, Miss Trevor?

I've got no more than he did there. I'm sorry?

The girl who... Who disappeared?

Agnes. The parlour maid, yes.

Whatever happened to Agnes?

That night after the party, I... I saw a light.

This was the tomb I saw opened.

Her body, it was down there.

Look, let me help you. Clement, are you sure?

Poor child.

All this time, we said she was the thief.

I think it's time you told us what happened.

The mistress, she confided only one.

Madeline? What did she tell you?

He said Agnes was with him that night. With whom?

A musician, a fiddle player.

Oh, the Count.

All these years.

Not a word.

I wanted to, sir.

I thought if I spoke out, you would contact the police and there'd be more

of a scandal.

It had already ruined your career, and if a stolen jewel could cast such a

shadow and then...

And then the theft of a life.

I'm so sorry.

Oh, what have I done?

Well? She's certainly hiding something.

Damn.

Oh.

Wondered if there was any... What?

Cardboard.

Wondered if there was any.

Sorry, what are you... What do you want cardboard for?

I'm making something.

Yes, well, I can't see any, so if you wouldn't mind.

What are you up to, Miss Blankensort? Just looking for some privacy in this

big old nasty...

House. Hannibal.

Sorry. I'll leave you to it.

Oh! Oh, it's child's play. It's musical mathematics.

Don't you see? One simply transposes the music from notes.

So, two octaves.

Take us from A up to O, while these 11 charts bring us all the way up to Z.

Your coded letter.

Please,

I cannot abide flattering.

Thank you, Lady Revel. Thank you.

Very well.

Thank you, Paddle.

For this reason, my beloved... My beloved captain, I...

Can never see you again. Promise me you will return one day for the greatest

jewel.

Richmond 20, North 3 East.

A love letter in a dead man's pocket.

Incomplete. If we had a couple more pages, a date would be helpful.

Yes, the manuscript was written in ballpoint pen. Indeed, the last couple

of years.

Yes. Oh, farewell, beloved captain, captain.

An alias for Count Ludwig, if this affair was to be kept quiet.

The Count had a secret lover.

Agnes?

Perhaps.

But what do we make of this? Promise me you will return one day for the greatest

jewel. Is it possible?

Count Ludwig came here to Chimneys, not to discuss iron, but on a secret mission

revealed within this letter to recover the stolen Mysore diamond located

somewhere in this house.

No wonder it's in code.

That's why he wanted to buy chimneys Richmond 20, North 3 East.

The evidence was right before our eyes. Van Dyke. And the subject, the Duke of

Richmond.

1891.

So?

So?

Now, don't torment me, Inspector.

If you're holding something back... Want. Want.

His last words.

Unless, of course... Unless,

of course, he was speaking not English, but his mother tongue. Not want, want,

but wund, wund.

Der Wand in High German.

Or wund in the Austrian dialect.

Meaning? The wall.

The wall.

So, you think... You think the diamond is... It's hidden somewhere in the wall.

Well, bravo.

But, you know, I think I know a gentleman who might shed a little more

light on the matter.

You were accompanying your godmother, Lady... Lady Sunset.

That's right. We all used to call her Robbie.

Must have been quite bewitching.

What? Diamond.

Oh, I see.

Well, all just coloured glass to me, Inspector.

What have you got there?

Notes from the investigation in 32.

Interviews with, among others, yourself.

I have no recollection of said diamond's disappearance.

In fact, I was asleep.

I've been charging about since dawn.

Really, Inspector... I see Lady Somerset retired early as well. We had...

Nothing to do with any theft, I assure you.

Point it in.

Leave yourself.

I was a young rake.

She was easily a pet.

Was she?

Well, at least I have an inkling.

And he was writing under a non-divine.

Count Ludwig had an alien?

The captain.

Odd. And a secret lover to boot. It's all in the letter.

Who was she, the lover?

Well, we wondered, Agnes.

Poor Agnes.

Not only that, the Count seems to have had a hand in the theft of the famous

diamond. So he bumped her off, did he?

Two thieves fighting over the spoils.

Well, do so on the way, everyone.

Yes, sir.

And she wasn't the only one, was she?

The only victim, I mean.

Bill, where is the...

Right here, my dearest.

Chimneys.

Not quite to scale, I'm afraid.

Night of the murder.

We all came downstairs.

Yes, and we couldn't find the cab.

So, off we all went.

Separately. Now, this is the point.

This is where we all were.

So, Bundle, you were upstairs in the guest wing.

George was there also.

Treadwell, kitchen.

Miss Blenkinsop, I believe, was on the terrace.

Bill, study.

And I was upstairs, then down to the council chamber.

We were all gone, what, five minutes, Bill?

Absolutely. One or two at most.

Then, gunshot, back we all flew, front door wide open.

Someone close that door!

Agreed? Now, who's to say one of us couldn't have run out of the house,

through the garden, trap door...

into the passage, shot the count, and then one minute to get back after the

gunshot, in time, to make it look like... To make it look like we'd been

in the house all along.

Front door to the trap door is, um... How many strikes, Bill?

We mentioned it.

112, 112.

Five minutes, there and back. It's possible. You said so yourself, didn't

you, Bill?

Sure. Why would anybody here want... Well, the cow wanted chimneys, didn't

he? I mean, we all heard him say that.

And a bundle?

I mean, you're so mortally opposed to losing the house. I had no idea I was so

patheticly grasping.

Well, that would have killed him, didn't it? That poor dead girl. My little fox.

Now, what you need is... Enough.

Quiet.

Are you making notes, Blankenthal?

No. To think.

What a pleasing oral history this will all make back in your municipal

headquarters. Not at all. When everyone knows you've had your claws in chimneys

for years, grubbing about with your letters and your polite notices, rifling

through our drawers, tipping off our creditors. Mother was on her deathbed.

Not that you lost a moment's sleep over that. God knows why.

I'll tell you why.

I caught her in the study, going through the old housekeeping records, weren't

you?

1932?

This is all about Agnes, isn't it? You knew her?

Agnes Parker was a child. A child.

When she was handed over to people like you.

Trusted to your care.

And when one morning she wasn't there, it broke her family's heart. And not one

of you had the decency to ask why.

I feel sick. Well, you might. No, I feel sick.

Daddy?

Oh, Clement.

Oh, take her.

Where's your tonic? Your tonic? Excuse me.

There's hardly any left.

Oh, excuse me.

Excuse me. Damn soup.

I'm so sorry. I'm so terribly sorry. What kind of soup is this, Miss

Dragwell?

Mushroom and sage.

Oh, but you were quite well.

Oh, I have no appetite by nightfall.

One of the hidden costs of old age.

Miss Treadwell, help me here.

Are you quite sure in your mind that the Count murdered poor Agnes?

Look, if there's anything else, then please.

It's been so many years.

Can this not wait until the morning?

Yes.

It feels wild.

Now, what's that doing there?

Indeed.

Dear me, what a business.

Ah!

Foxglove leaves.

Easily muddled with sage.

Must have found their way into the soup.

Foxglove, you see, contains... Digitalis, natural poison.

Gang. He had to rebuke me.

Castigate away.

Now, your sister's account of last night. Please

don't mind, Ginny. Have another shot.

I noticed that you were upstairs here in the guest wing during the search party.

I wondered what became of them.

Of the legal paperwork drawn up last night for the sale of chimneys?

Which you took from Mr Lomax is wrong.

Oh, that.

Well, I did it for Father's sake, in the main.

Chimneys meant everything to him, one.

He's had such healthy days after his retirement as a family.

Of course, with Mama gone... I understand.

and his upset memories and so forth, but given time... Unlike

the rest of my family, I've not much youth or passion.

I'm not sure it's such a great task.

It does make for a quieter life.

Now, these papers.

Old maid's last reference, isn't it?

An overweening love of a domestic animal.

Thank you.

Not that they ever reciprocated.

It was always Chadwell.

Every dog and pup we ever had.

She used to give them the funniest names.

There's really no need to stay so.

No, I'm fine.

She had a weak heart?

Well, not that I knew.

Oh, I wondered merely why the poison in the foxglove leaves should prove lethal

for her while the rest of us... Well, she was a terrible warrior.

Shanghai, 27.

She travelled about with us everywhere.

And this one?

Oh, do you know? I have no idea.

Our friend the captain.

Of course. Looks like him. And not a useful code.

Not this one.

Who was he writing to?

Constance.

She was with us for so many years.

One forgot she even had a Christian name.

Constance Treadwell.

I was so sure she was holding something for us.

Constance was Count Ludwig's lover.

My dearest Constance, nine days until the party at the Palazzo Ducale.

It feels like a prison.

It has rained every day since Caracas.

The captain.

I am mad, bedlamized with love.

But the lamb is stamping her little hooves.

I must sign off now.

Be of courage.

Until Friday.

And cheese.

Our glorious reunion.

I will take you in my arms. And we will make such light-fingered music.

Treadwell? I suppose she had much to lose.

Her position, her livelihood.

And when love is driven underground, it quickens its ardour.

Oh, we had a case with our organist and the young page-turner at St Mary Mead. I

see.

Well, one mustn't talk scandal.

Places and times.

Venice, Caracas.

He must have trailed her for two years at least.

All the way to Chimneys.

Back to the party.

The Treadwell, the diamond thief.

Well, perhaps it was the captain who urged her to do it.

What is the lamb in these letters?

Oh, I think that... Oh, I'm so sorry.

You first.

Agnes. Old papist word for lamb.

Agnes Day, Lamb of God.

Altar boy.

Mispend?

So safe to conclude, Agnes Parker was the courier ferrying letters between

Constance Treadwell and her captain.

And then on the night of the party in 32, the theft of the Mysore diamond.

Agnes is murdered.

Widely circumstantial, but the messenger.

Murdered by Count Ludwig because she found out about the theft?

She knew too much. The Count buries her in the crypt, and of course everyone

assumes that Agnes has stolen the diamond.

And then, years later, the two lovers dead themselves.

They murdered.

Richard's soup.

Which begs the question?

How can the same dish kill one of us while provoking mere unpleasantness in

the rest?

The foxgloves tossed into the soup by the killer to convince us that Miss

Treadwell's death was an accident.

But in fact, she was poisoned by something else. But what?

I have no idea.

Pity.

And who... Humongous, I wonder. Has been quickest to defend poor Agnes Parker.

Yes. I was at school with her.

They lived on our street.

This whole business with Agnes, well... It's how they treat them, isn't it?

You never believed Agnes stole the mice or diamond in 32, did you? Of course

not.

But I didn't knock anyone off, and I certainly don't know anything about

any... Poison, did he?

Did he? And yet here you are.

On the terrace.

Camp Ludwig!

Quite alone, no witnesses.

What do we think? Could it be that Miss Blenkinsop climbed into the passage,

fired the gunshot, and then back in the house?

I don't think so.

Not with my asthma. And yet you saw something, didn't you?

Yes. I realise now. It must have been Cade I saw in the garden.

It did seem odd behaviour for a security guard. I could have said something.

Cried for help.

I could have stopped it.

But I just stood there.

Not completely right, Inspector.

I fear Mr Cade is running out of rope.

Mr Eversley!

Here we are.

Dear Cade, come to chimneys. There's a trapdoor in the garden, 1145 Sharp.

Peyton Falsehood.

Yes, well, note the capital C.

The letter has a little crack in it.

Do you see?

And again, here...

The same little crack.

So?

The note to Mr. Cade appears to have been written on this very typewriter.

Which you yourself were using on the very morning the letter was dispatched.

Oh, I see.

You wrote this, didn't you?

Yes. Well, some of it anyway. But I don't remember anything about 11.45.

But your purpose in writing the letter?

To help Mr. Cade gain access to chimneys?

How long have you been acquainted with Mr Cade?

Couple of weeks.

I lost rather heavily at cards.

My pet vice, losing heavily at cards.

I get so crushingly bored in the office.

There's a little room run in Aldwych.

Pontoon, poker for the diehards.

How much did you lose?

97 quid.

Anyway, him walked Cade. He said he could cover the debt. He said we could

help each other out.

Go on.

Virginia.

I do wonder if you shouldn't dismiss George's office so lightly.

Oh, Anthony, you're like a stuck record. You're too damn decent. Virginia,

please.

I have a sort of confession.

I'm not a good man.

Not really.

Oh? My partner.

Jimmy McGraw.

The fact of the matter is that... that they were going to shoot him if I didn't

get them the diamond.

What? Mr.

Cade!

Listen to me. The number of times I've played it over and over again in my

mind. I was so scared that I'd lose you, you see?

And I wish it weren't like this. I wish we could go back to the beginning and

start this dance again.

Me on the bicycle and you so beautiful that it hurts to look at you.

Please, whatever you're about to hear, please, please believe me that I do love

you.

So this gentleman from Pretoria who's holding your friend... He has a pet

passion.

Diamonds? Yes.

The Mysore diamond?

He gave me six weeks to bring him the real McCoy, or Jimmy's life would be

forfeit. So you staged the street assault to endear yourself to Virginia?

Yes. Posing as the good Samaritan to creep into the affections of an innocent

young... George, please.

I had a splitting.

And the assailant?

But your real purpose was to gain access to chimneys where the diamond was first

hidden. I am a decent man.

A decent man who did a stupid thing. I had no choice.

Ditto. Absolutely.

Anthony Cade, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Count Ludwig

von Stanner.

Nobody say anything.

Please.

I think...

Despite everything, this must be my favorite room in the world.

It's out of bounds as a boy.

So naturally, it was where one longed to be.

And this heraldic brute?

Oh, the battles we fought through shot and shell.

Armies, dragons, the whole world.

And then one summer, 12 years old, just tall enough to open his visor.

My brother in arms was nothing at all.

Just empty air.

If this is you gently breaking the news that Anthony Cade is no knight in

shining armour, consider me rudely welcome.

No,

no.

No, I'm saying that love is its own adventure.

Take no one for granted.

Not even those closest to home.

Jane, help me. No, no.

I know what you're saying.

Wish me luck.

Excuse me, George.

Sorry to barge in a matter of the estate.

I accept.

I beg your pardon?

The offer.

If it's still open.

I know how sticky you are about Ultimator.

But, uh, Cade? Oh, that was a dream I had.

I'm awake now.

Well, I'm, uh, delighted to hear it.

The first of many.

A drink?

Champagne? A toast?

What are you doing?

You stay there.

A toast

to us.

Cheers. Cheers. Cheers.

What on earth was that?

It appeared from inside the house.

No, in the passageway.

Virginia!

Virginia! Mr. K, all this isn't going to look very bright in court.

Virginia! I want you to know, I want to give you something.

The diamond!

What did I give a damn?

You are the only prize worth dying for.

And it's got to be here somewhere.

And when I find it, it's yours. Do you hear?

Antony!

Antony!

It's here.

He couldn't even get that right.

What's he trying to prove?

Well, he has proven one thing.

Oh? His innocence.

May I show you?

I'm too sorry.

Whenever you're ready.

Everybody in position?

Yes. Yeah.

Ready? Yes.

All right, Constable, when you're ready.

We were all standing just where we were the moment of the fatal gunshot. Agreed?

Indeed. Everything just as it was?

No. The gunshot.

Mr. Quiet? Yes.

It was much quieter, Inspector.

Like Mr. Cade's hammering a few moments ago.

Whereas the sound we thought was the gunshot made my ears ring.

Mr. Cade, you remember, out in the garden.

What did he see on that warm night?

Someone had lit a fire.

And then that off-cut of flecks that had no business being in the compost.

A piece of fuse, Inspector.

The Count's killer lit something in the chimney that evening on a slow fuse,

timed to explode 15 minutes later to deceive us all that what we heard was a

gunshot when what we in fact heard was a firework.

Now, what was it you said, Inspector? Like it or not, Anthony Cade was found

in that tunnel with the smoking gun.

What if the gun was not?

What if the Count was killed earlier than supposed?

After the men retired from their business at quarter to eleven, but

before the alarm bell almost an hour later.

Suddenly, the killer could be any one of us.

Are you sure?

Well, you recall the Count's interest over dinner in the Duke of Richmond.

No great feat to quietly invite the Count back after the rest of us were in

bed. Show him the hidden bolt, tempt him inside, then shoot him and toss the gun

to be found later as if abandoned by the killer.

Sadly for the Count, he didn't die straight away. The murder is only

mistake if mistake it was.

Good Lord.

The poor man was still living when Mr. Cave found him some time later.

Go on, Jane.

Those letters.

I've been woefully, unforgivably naive.

Constance and the captain are the romance of it.

One gets swept along, and yet... Let me pose a question.

A pair of lovers determined to hide their secret, might they not write under

an alias?

Indeed. Count Ludwig called himself the captain.

Yes, so he did. But why just the count and not Constance? Did she not fear

exposure as much as him?

Unless...

Constance was also an alias.

So the Constance of the letter was not Treadwell?

Forgive me, Bundle.

I took this from your scrapbook.

So, Doc, so what?

Well, it's my ma's first month.

Captain, it was called.

Captain, and it was so besotted with Treadwell, my ma used to joke they were

like perfect lovers.

Our mother must have brought it these alias, Constance and her captain. Our

mother took the alias Constance.

Your mother was the Count's secret lover.

I don't understand. Are you saying that the Count and Madeline stole the

diamond?

That wretched diamond.

We're all so bewitched by the Mysore diamond.

We forge our theories and forget the facts. It is so important to see things

clearly, as if through a pane of glass and not a prism. Excuse me.

May I?

I'm afraid there's no way the Count murdered Agnes and made off with the

diamond. Because the diamond has been with Agnes all the time.

In the tomb.

Just where the killer left it.

And we found poor Agnes' bones. Do you remember?

Your history on it. In the crypt.

You took it then, didn't you?

Then dropped it in the fountain.

Why else would you be drying your hands?

Daddy?

Why?

The night of the party, 32.

I'd lost a cufflink, if you can believe.

I went upstairs, and then...

I'd not meant to kill her, but she tried to prevent me from seeing my wife and

the fiddle player.

And then my mind cleared.

I took the diamond, left it with Agnes.

Naturally, it was assumed that she'd run off with it.

Then all that remained was to tell my wife.

A white lie.

You told her Agnes had been seen... Covorting with the Viennese Fiddler.

Who, of course, went on writing to her for quite some time, but I took care of

those letters. They would only have caused her pain.

You know, it's funny looking back.

She was so easily deceived.

These romances.

So fragile.

There's no real devotion at all.

Not such as we all had together.

There's a family here at Chinniss.

She was unhappy.

Trapped. No wonder she got ill. But after she died, you found the earlier

letters, didn't you, from the captain?

She kept them safe for these years.

Yes, indeed.

Every word.

So that when Mr. Lomax showed you the letter from Count Ludwig suggesting a

visit to Chimneys, you knew the handwriting at once. A precise match of

the old love letters. And you knew the captain was on his way.

But why the firework?

Why 1145?

Mr. Eversley, is it? It's possible that the letter you wrote to Mr.

Cade was in fact left unsealed.

You'll get to the right, though.

Still on the desk.

Letters for posting on his Lordship desk.

All that remained was to add the time.

You wrote and posted the letter to Cade yourself.

And staged the gunshot for 11.45 to incriminate Cade.

What better way to be rid of your enemies?

Frame one for the killing of the other. Cade is no good.

You said as much yourself.

And as for this plan to ship you off to Africa... Now, don't look at me like

that. You cannot build a marriage on lies.

Aren't you supposed to build it on love?

And Treadwell?

Well, as we thought.

Poisoned not by the foxglove leaves, but by your tonic.

Active ingredient digitalis. Huge overdose.

No, I do regret that.

She was a faithful servant.

More faithful than you knew.

You were so fearful that she would tell the inspector about the affair. On the

contrary, she was taking measures to protect her mistress's secret.

Soon as Agnes's bones were recovered, she took the letters from amongst your

possessions to her own room.

If I'd let her live, no one would have found out.

Is that what you mean?

Well, that's it then.

Return one day for the greatest jewel.

No, stop.

What if this jewel was a diamond of a different kind?

Stop! Whatever it is, we have a right to know.

A rose.

Not just any rose.

A Richmond rose.

Richmond 20, North 3, East. So the Richmond referred to is not the

portrait. Precisely.

The Rose of Richmond.

These directions, where do they lead?

I don't understand.

Jane, the Count's last words, do you remember?

They're about the wall.

We thought he meant the wall in the passageway, but this Virginia Creeper,

when was it planted?

Madeline planted it 23 years ago to celebrate your birth.

Virginia Creeper.

He knew.

I'm sure he did as he lay dying.

The rose, the dance.

It all made sense.

I think your mother wrote to the Count shortly before she passed away.

The coded letter.

She didn't want the truth to die with her. Not quite.

So you mean you were the greatest jewel?

He'd come to take you away my own little girl

My

darling girl

You feel if you were to let go now, I won't.

I'd just float off.

I won't.

Come on, no use putting off the inevitable.

Are you going to tell her or shall I?

Oh, I... I think it's best coming from me.

Blankensop!

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Bundle weren't like that at all.

But you're not selling chimneys?

Well, Bundle couldn't bear to stay on, and I don't want to live here.

So what do you think?

Pass the whole headache on to Blankensop and her tea and scones. Why not?

Will she be all right?

Bundle, I mean. Oh, she'll foist herself onto some undeserving cause.

Her father?

I suppose.

And you?

Here they come.

A happy marriage.

Can't be that difficult, can it?

Go with your heart.

Like mother.

I keep thinking if she loved her Count so much, why was she so quick to believe

he'd run off?

I suppose love is an act of courage.

Miss Marple. Goodbye, Inspector.

Thank you.

I see now I've grown too fond of my own reputation.

I was so bewitched by the blasted diamond.

And now look at me, the latest of your casualties.

What do you think?

Interpol want me to take it to South Africa and trap this villainous fellow

from Pretoria. You know, Inspector, I don't care for it at all.

Goodbye.