Original subtitles

Silly old morning, Uncle Harry.

They'll sort you out a loader.

Stoddard.

-Hastings. -Ah, thank you.

Hastings?

Now, I shall need at least six.

No, no, no, no, eight,

for the Tetras � l'Hongroise.

I shall ask the hotel to cook us some tomorrow.

It's not like ordering them in a shop, Poirot --

I've got to shoot the damn things.

I have every faith in your marksmanship, Hastings.

You ready, old man?

Ah, Roger.

Mr. Poirot, it's taken me 10 years to get him up onto

Uncle Harry's moor -- I don't want you missing the drive.

I'm ready.

For God's sake, Harry, it's not much.

It'll mean I can marry again.

�300 is nothing to you.

Look bloody odd, wouldn't it, Jack?

Me putting that sort of money

the way of my maid and my gamekeeper?

Damn you!

I sometimes wonder which of us was born a bastard.

Jack?

Stoddard.

Yes, Mr. Roger.

Look after Mr. Archie, will you?

Aye-aye, sir.

Right, Mr. Archie, let's have a look here.

Now, what do you think?

Good luck, darling.

Mm.

-Bonne chance, mon ami. -Thanks, old man.

Good shooting, Archie.

Thanks, eh.

Poor old Archie.

Hasn't a clue, I'm afraid.

He's your cousin, isn't he?

Yes. You've seen the guns he turned up with?

Still, he's only a schoolteacher,

so on his salary, what could you expect?

Now, this is you, old man.

-Good shooting. -Thanks.

Into your shoulder, tight.

Stroke the cheek, stroke the cheek, tight,

right, 90� angle.

Now, break!

Well, let's hope for a good bag.

They're breaking, Mr. Pace.

Here they come.

Damn it.

M. Poirot?

-M. Poirot? -Oh!

Pardon, madame.

The popping, you know.

Why did you come, M. Poirot?

The red grouse, it must be eaten fresh,

while the gun is still smoking, as we say.

Ah, a gourmet?

You are too kind, Mme. Havering,

but it is most rare in my country, the tetras.

We make do with la gelinotte, the wood grouse,

with a flavor -- it is piney.

Piney?

Yes, this is not a word, "piney"?

Like -- Like a pine tree?

Oh, "piney."

Yes!

It's a very good word.

Here we are, sir.

Let's load, quick.

Watch him, Stoddard!

Ah!

You've hit Mr. Pace!

Mr. Pace!

You bloody fool!

You bloody, bloody fool!

You damn near killed me!

And what the hell were you doing, Stoddard!

You were supposed to be looking after him!

Call yourself a gamekeeper?

You can't even pass muster as a nursery maid!

Argh! Will you give me a handkerchief?

Mr. Archie is a complete idiot.

It looks like Uncle Harry is all right.

Well, I'd better get back to Hunter's Lodge --

make sure Mrs. Middleton

has everything under control for lunch.

She's only with us pro tem.

M. Poirot,

may I entrust you with a task?

Madame?

Look after cousin Archie for me, will you?

I couldn't bear it

if he went back to his little cottage and brooded.

He will not be able to brood

in the company of Hercule Poirot, madame.

You are a treasure.

Oh.

Ellie, where's Mrs. Middleton?

Up in her room, mum.

She done most of it.

She left us a note to get on setting it out.

She's impossible.

Still, it all looks very nice.

-Thank you, mum. -Thank you, mum.

I'm going to lie down for a moment.

I've got a wretched earache.

The wind up there is like a knife.

It's been snowing up on the moor, you know.

Others will be here in about half an hour.

Mrs. Middleton?

For two hours, I am waiting in the snow, Hastings!

The ice, it is forming on my bones!

Ah, a log fire --

one of the better provisions of the English.

Roger was saying

you keep an eye on the place for the family.

Yes, I'm local -- the poor relation that's available.

Damned invidious it is, too.

What is?

Some of my pupils' families live six to a room.

This place lies empty 40 weeks of the year.

They only come up here for the shooting.

Mrs. Middleton, where's my wife, do you know?

-She's up in her room, sir. -Her room?

She has an earache, sir, I'm told.

Well, she damn well ought to be here.

That sort of thing won't get him very far,

not with Zoe.

Will you have some more punch, girls?

Thank you, Mr. Payne.

Ah -- excuse me.

Uncle Harry, I'm really sorry about your hand.

Don't think I'll take up grouse shooting as a career.

Delighted to hear it.

A fellow asked me the other day --

a Bolshie, you know -- asked me,

had I actually made anything during my workless life.

"Certainly," I said.

"I made a lot of friends, I made a lot of enemies,

and I've made a lot of money."

You all right, Poirot?

My feet, Hastings,

are still blocks of ice,

my lungs, they are full of the gunpowder on the fresh air,

and my ears are full of the popping,

and I am ill.

No, I am not all right, Hastings.

Not at all.

Um, au revoir, M. Poirot.

Au revoir.

-Good to have met you. -Thank you.

I have to be off.

It's a six-mile bike ride for me, I'm afraid.

You are leaving?

One can leave?

Mr. Poirot, goodbye.

Ah, M. Havering,

goodbye, thank you.

Next year, we'll put you up at the house.

No, the hotel's fine. It's very comfortable.

-Bye, Roger. -Goodbye.

Cheerio, thanks.

Hope his hand gets better.

I'm sure it will.

Bye, Archie. Take care.

Oh!

Oh, I'm sorry!

It's all right. I'm all right.

Are you all right, Zoe?

Oh, yes, I had a filthy earache. I'm fine now.

Take care of yourself, Archie.

Yes... yes, indeed.

Well, uh...

Bye, then.

I'll get myself ready, then I'll be off to London.

I should make the 5:00.

Darling, couldn't you catch the 6:15?

-Why? -Mrs. Middleton wants to go

down to Stoddard's place to pick up some game.

Oh, darling.

She makes such a fuss.

Bloody temporary staff.

Don't know what that agency's playing at.

Ellie has to walk four miles,

and you never hear her complaining.

It would be so much easier if you gave her a lift.

She'd only have to walk back.

All right, all right, I'll do it.

Mrs. Middleton?

Joan, would you like a lift, too?

Mr. Havering could drop you off on the way to Mr. Stoddard's.

Oh, thank you, mum.

Come along, then.

I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it, Poirot.

My enjoyment is yet to come, Hastings.

I have given to the chef his instructions.

What's that?

Mon Dieu. Look at this, Hastings!

I am a corpse waiting to die.

I shall not survive to enjoy my Tetras � l�Hongroise.

All aboard!

It's the 6:15 going to all stations to London King's Cross.

Now, you stay there.

You stay.

Hey, that's my bike!

Mr. Stoddard! Mr. Stoddard!

Fetch the police. There's been a shooting.

Go!

And you can confirm that this is Mr. Harrington Pace?

Yes, sir.

Mrs. Havering's in a terrible state.

I've given her something to help her sleep.

I let the killer in -- that's what I can't get over.

Describe this man.

He was wearing a big overcoat,

and he had a beard -- a great, bushy thing.

He said he wanted to see Mr. Pace,

so I showed him into the gun room

like I always do with visitors.

Yes?

I went back into the living room

and started clearing up, and then heard the sound.

The shot.

Like someone knocking on the door of hell, it was.

Who is it?

It's me.

Come in, Hastings.

There's been a murder.

Who has been murdered?

Harrington Pace, up at Hunter's Lodge,

shot with one of his own revolvers.

Mon Dieu!

Oh!

You're still not well, Poirot.

Oh, I must confess, I feel a little weak.

You get back into bed now.

You can leave this to me.

-Comment? -This investigation.

You can leave it to me.

I'll report back to you, of course.

I know these people, Poirot,

and I've got one or two ideas already.

What are these ideas, Hastings?

You just relax.

Hastings, will you please stop tapping your nose

in that theatrical manner,

and tell me all that you know?

I don't seem to be able to find that Mrs. Middleton, Sarge.

What do you mean, "can't find her"?

Oh, this is the Scotland Yard fellow.

Find her!

Right ho, Sarge.

Japp, Scotland Yard.

Sergeant Forgan, Ashby Pickard.

Pleasant drive, sir?

Are you trying to be funny?

No, sir.

Rich, was he, the victim?

Oh, yes, sir, Harrington Pace --

owned a stud outside Newmarket,

a house in Belgravia, and mooring in Monte Carlo.

And who stands to benefit?

Practically all of it goes to his nephew, Roger Havering.

And where is he?

Spent the night at his club in London.

Yeah, we phoned him there.

He's coming back on the first train, sir.

He was shot by a man who just turned up at the door

asking to see him.

Must have got away through that window.

Hmm.

It was the gamekeeper who came and got us.

Oh, he stood to gain, too, sir.

He's the only other real beneficiary.

-Oh, yes? -Pace left him �4,000.

Did he, by God?

Excuse me, Sergeant, but she's not on the premises.

She's definitely gone.

Who's that?

The housekeeper, Mrs. Middleton.

She showed the killer into the house.

She's our chief witness.

Better initiate a search. How many men have you got?

Men, sir?

Just the one, sir -- him.

Well, you'll have to make optimum use of your resources,

won't you?

Sir.

Roger, what a terrible thing. I'm awfully sorry.

Thank you. I must go straight to the lodge. Zoe needs me.

I think we ought to pop in and see Poirot on the way.

He's feeling a bit poorly, so I'm handling the case,

but we must keep him informed.

I am profoundly ill, as you can see, but...

-I will do my best to assist. -Thank you.

Uh, one thing, M. Havering,

-if you please. -Yes?

Pardon, but what were you doing when your uncle was killed?

Oh, it's all right. Roger was on his way to London.

I spent the night at my club.

Police rang me there.

It's a horrible business.

You went to London by train?

Yes, I caught the 6:15.

You talk to anyone on that train?

No.

You arrived at your club at what time?

Oh, about 10:00 -- Actually, it was a bit later,

I walked down from King's Cross.

Ah, that's fine. Thank you.

Hastings?

We'll get on up to the lodge, Poirot.

Very well, Hastings.

Hello, reception desk.

Hello, yes, this is Hercule Poirot,

room number 5,

I require, if you please, a railway timetable.

I was in here with Mr. Pace

when there was a knock at the door.

I heard Mrs. Middleton go to answer it,

so I got up to see who it was.

Yes.

It was a man I didn't recognize, so I waited for Mrs. Middleton

to show him into the gun room and come and announce him.

What did he look like?

Average-ish height, hat,

specs, I think.

I couldn't be sure.

Beard.

What sort of beard?

Bushy.

He looked like one of those anarchists

in a cartoon in "Punch."

Do you remember what time this man arrived?

About a quarter to 7:00.

Please go on.

Well, Mrs. Middleton knocked a minute later,

said the man wouldn't give his name,

but wanted to see Mr. Pace.

Harry said

he'd see what he wanted.

He got up, and a few minutes later, we heard the shot.

The housekeeper,

Mrs. Middleton, she was in the room with you, was she?

Yes, she was clearing the drinks glasses.

Did this man arrive by car?

I don't know. I didn't hear anything.

Would you normally hear a car arriving?

Oh, yes.

Yes, if he came by car, he didn't bring it up to the house.

You carry on here.

Yes, sir.

This hotel of yours presentable, is it?

Not too bad.

I'll book myself in. What are their sandwiches like?

Sandwiches? No idea.

Tell you what, I put my money on this Middleton woman

being in league with the killer.

On her own admission, she shows the fellow in.

The next morning, she's gone.

Yeah, but she's the only person

who's had a proper look at the killer.

What if she saw through his disguise?

Disguise?

What disguise?

Bushy beard and glasses?

And suppose she saw who it was under the disguise.

Perhaps we better start looking for another body, not a witness.

Well, Mr. Poirot, you get that down you,

and I reckon you'll live to fight another day.

Oh.

Thank you very much, Mr. Anstruther.

Come in.

Ah, Chief Inspector Japp.

Hastings, this is Mr. Anstruther

of the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway.

Afternoon, gents.

Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back.

A railway don't run itself, you know.

I'll drop in tomorrow

with some more blackberry tea.

Thank you very much.

Oh, and don't forget my bike, will you?

Certainly not.

That bike means a lot to me, that bike does.

Man and boy, I've had that bike.

Au revoir.

Pauvre Mr. Anstruther.

He is a man obsessed.

Obsessed with what?

His bike?

Yes, indeed, Chief Inspector.

It has been stolen.

He is also obsessed with other things.

He knows every final detail

about the movements of the trains

in and out of his little station.

Oh, yes? Been doing some investigation, have we?

How can I, Chief Inspector? I am prostrated.

I toy with the little lines of inquiry, that is all.

You, of course, will be well ahead of me.

Well, we've got a description of the murderer.

Yes, a man of medium height wearing a broad-brimmed hat,

sporting a beard that is large and fluffy.

How did you know that?

That is a description of the man

who stole the bicycle of M. Anstruther.

It is essential that we find it, Hastings.

Oh, right.

Find what?

The bicycle!

Also, I am most anxious

to establish whether or not

M. Archie Havering had an alibi

for the time that M. Pace was shot.

You didn't really like your uncle, did you?

What are you implying?

Look, I'm sorry about this.

I'm afraid I have to ask you.

Poirot wants to know what you were doing yesterday evening

at the time of your uncle's death.

How dare you?

What on earth makes you think

I'd want to kill a man like my Uncle Harry?

I tell you, he was beneath contempt.

Mean and selfish.

You know Stoddard the gamekeeper is his half-brother,

one of his father's bastards.

Good lord!

His own blood, and he used him like a servant.

How did he get his money in the first place?

I'll tell you.

He cheated his partner in County Mayo,

then used the money for profiteering on the war.

And people liked him!

He boasted about it, and people applauded!

Clear off!

Hello?

Chief Inspector?

Ah, how's the cold, Poirot?

It is not a cold. It is a deadly fever!

Hmm, nasty.

However, I have asked M. and Mme. Havering

to come to the hotel.

I am now convinced that M. Roger Havering

has not been telling the truth.

You say, M. Havering,

that you arrived at London at 9:00.

The only witness that you can produce

is the doorman at your club where you arrived at 10:00.

You say that you spent this hour

walking between King's Cross at St. James', and yet,

you can describe none of your movements,

no events, no street names, rien -- nothing.

This isn't the line I've been following at all, Poirot.

What are you driving at?

I am driving at

a curve in the line of the local railway.

A loop of iron which connects Ashby Pickard

with the little station of Ashby le Walken.

What?

It is quite possible, M. Havering,

for a man to catch the 6:15 train at one station

and get off at the next.

With the aid of a bicycle, he returns to Hunter's Lodge

disguised with a beard

and wearing a broad-brimmed hat.

He shoots the man he wishes to shoot.

Then he catches the 7:20 from Ashby Pickard,

a train that is faster than the 6:15,

which will get him to London in time to be at his club by 10:00.

My God. You're serious, aren't you?

It is a serious affair!

A man has been killed

and you are about to be accused of his murder.

Me?

You, sir.

Do you not see it, monsieur?

You must tell us of your movements that night.

Absolutely not.

I can't.

For God's sake, Roger, why not?

I just can't.

Well, Poirot?

Carry on, Chief Inspector.

I would like you to accompany me

to the local police station, sir.

What?

I wish to question you in connection with the murder

of your uncle, Mr. Harrington Pace,

and with the disappearance of the housekeeper, Mrs. Middleton.

Yes? It's for you, Chief Inspector.

Japp.

Right.

What is it?

They found Mrs. Middleton.

We're not late, are we?

No, she hasn't arrived yet.

Shouldn't you be in bed?

Possibly, but, please, do not fuss.

You looked like you were at death's door last night.

Unfortunately, Chief Inspector,

it was my appetite that was dead.

My Tetras � l�Hongroise, it was fed to the cat.

Mrs. Middleton?

Yes, I'm Mrs. Middleton.

Well, what have you brought me here for?

The instructions from the agency

were to go to Ashby Pickard by train and I'd be met there,

and the engagement would be for one month.

So, I did.

And I was met by a very nice Irish lady who --

Irish? You sure?

Oh, yes! She said she was Mrs. Pace.

And she said there'd been an embarrassing mix-up.

What sort of mix-up?

She said they were canceling the shooting this year

and there was no household for me to keep.

So, anyway, she said she'd be grateful

if I didn't say anything to the agency

because she didn't want them

to think she was unreliable, you know?

And she was very generous.

She said she'd give me two months' wages in lieu

if I'd agree not to put myself back on the agency books

for a full month.

And you agreed?

Yes! She seemed very nice.

You kept very quiet through all that.

I am unwell -- and it changes everything,

this testimony of Mme. Middleton.

Well, it all seems pretty straightforward to me.

We still have to find this other woman

who pretended to be a housekeeper.

Agreed?

I think it would be more fruitful

to find the bicycle of M. Anstruther.

What on earth for?

Because, Hastings, it was stolen

to transport a murderer to Hunter's Lodge.

Why has it disappeared?

Sir, sir?

What is it, Forgan?

It's Mr. Havering, sir.

He's asking to see you.

I'll tell you what I was doing if you promise not to tell Zoe.

Well, let's hope it won't be necessary.

I'll make no promises.

Very well, then.

I was with Lord Quamby.

Lord Quamby? The racing earl?

Yes, he's chairman of the board in charge of on course betting.

I wanted him to get me off the hook.

Well, buy me some time on a couple of my debts.

Why were you so reluctant to tell us this?

A few months ago, you see, I promised Zoe

that I'd never back another horse as long as I lived.

And will Lord Quamby verify that you were with him?

Of course he will.

Tell me, Mlle. Joan, on the night of the murder,

when was the last time that you saw Mme. Middleton?

She was in the car with Mr. Havering

when they dropped me off at home.

He was on his way to the station,

and he gave her a lift over to Mr. Stoddard's house.

Mr. Stoddard the gamekeeper?

Yes, sir.

Ah, yes, of course, M. Stoddard.

You hope to be his wife one day, do you not?

No one's supposed to know that, sir.

I comprehend.

Tell me more about Mme. Middleton.

Oh, she was that strict.

Always leaving little notes about the place, criticizing.

Mr. Stoddard didn't like her.

They used to be quite sharp with each other.

Did Mme. Middleton ever talk to you about herself?

No, not really.

She said she were from Ireland.

Mayo, I think.

She always kept herself to herself, like.

Mlle. Joan, this apron?

Oh, that's Mrs. Middleton's, sir.

Oh. Thank you. That will be all.

So, when Harrington Pace was living in Ireland,

he cheated his partner and ruined him.

Then this mysterious woman, who was also from County Mayo,

turns up and replaces Mrs. Middleton.

She was probably a relation of the ruined man.

She opens the door to her accomplice,

the fellow with the bushy beard,

they kill Pace, and both of them disappear.

Absolument, mon ami.

You have the story exact.

Oh.

In your hunt countries, of course,

they use your gazehound,

hunts by sight.

For the moistness in our air,

we favor a dog that hunts by scent.

And I tell you,

she's a prime example of that, aren't you, huh?

She's the best of her kind, she is.

That is most interesting.

Tell me, M. Stoddard, if you please,

on the night that M. Pace was killed,

Mme. Middleton came to your house

to collect some game birds, did she not?

No.

Oh, you're right. I was expecting her,

but she never arrived.

I didn't see her till much later,

when she came running down lane to tell me about the shooting.

Chief Inspector, there is at Hunter's Lodge

a telephone, is there not?

Yes, there is.

Then why did not Mme. Middleton herself

telephone to the police?

Aye, it crossed my mind then.

What she said was

that Mrs. Havering was near hysterical at the horror of it.

She wanted to get her to sleep before the police got there,

so she sent me to fetch them.

Ah, yes, she needed the time alone in the house.

Yes, of course, of course.

M. Stoddard,

would you consider to involve your excellent dog

in a little experiment?

She is clever with her nose, you say?

She's got a nose that would

scent a poppy in a bit of slurry, she has.

Eh bien, M. Stoddard, our poppy, it is in here.

It is essential that we determine

the whereabouts of the person

who calls herself Mme. Middleton.

Easier said than done. Not a glimmer.

Road, rail, local gossip, nothing.

-That's why I think -- -Eh-up, eh-up!

What's it, girl?

What's the matter, girl, huh?

What's it, girl, huh?

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

So it's been buried?

Some thing.

It's a coat.

And a hat.

Hey, look at this.

Swipe me.

Bon! M. Anstruther, he will be most pleased.

What a clever dog.

Everyone here?

In the gun room, sir.

M. Harrington Pace was not a likeable man.

He used his wealth to control his friends and his family.

For example, M. Stoddard, his unacknowledged brother,

he employed as a gamekeeper,

but refused to lend him the �300 necessary

to purchase his house and to get married.

His nephew, M. Archie Havering,

he used as an estate manager,

paying him not with money, but with promises of a legacy.

His other nephew, M. Roger Havering,

was also made to dance the attendance

by assurances of wealth to come.

There are, I think, here motives for murder.

N'est-ce pas?

Now, look here, Poirot --

No, no, no, please, M. Roger,

I make not the accusations. I merely speculate.

For instance, we know that

you could not have possibly committed the murder,

because at 6:15 on that night,

you were boarding a train for London.

But what we did not know

was that there was another passenger

who also boarded that train.

This person

alighted from the train at the very next stop

and stole the bicycle of my friend,

M. Anstruther -- a curious thing to do, huh?

Hey, that's my bike!

But the next thing that this person did

was even more curious.

He buried the bicycle.

Then he buried all the necessary accoutrements

of the bearded man...

...and turned himself back into Mme. Middleton.

Mrs. Middleton was the bearded man?

But, yes, Hastings.

You see, we only had the word of Mme. Middleton herself

that a bearded man came to the house that night,

but, of course, that was not true.

No, I saw him.

Mme. Havering, if you please,

we will come to that in a minute.

It's as I've said all along,

we've got to find this Mrs. Middleton.

Well, may I suggest

that you get on and do just that.

So far, all you've done is ask impertinent questions

and treat respectable people like a lot of criminals!

Please, M. Roger, do not be in such haste.

We may know that you did not commit a murder,

but there are other things which are not yet so clear.

This crime was of a daring most extraordinary.

It had to be like clockwork.

And the spurious Mme. Middleton

had to have an accomplice to wind the spring.

Sorry, Mrs. Middleton.

At a quarter to 6:00 on the night of the murder,

this spring, it was ready for release.

The guests had departed,

Mlle. Ellie had already gone home,

and Mlle. Joan had been offered a lift

in your car, M. Havering.

Mlle. Joan was duly dropped at her cottage.

Mme. Middleton was then to be driven to

the home of M. Stoddard to collect some game birds,

but, of course, she never arrived.

She was undergoing a transformation.

It was essential, you see,

that a suspect should be seen to alight from the train

at the very next stop,

a suspect that could well be

M. Roger Havering in disguise.

Why should I try to incriminate myself?

Because, M. Havering, you had planned most carefully

your alibi -- your meeting with Lord Quamby,

which you would seem to have every reason for keeping secret,

but once you were forced to reveal it and were released,

it was most unlikely that the police

would suspect you for a second time.

You're talking complete rubbish.

No, no, no, I think not, M. Havering.

You see, while you continued your journey to London,

Mme. Middleton returned to Hunter's Lodge.

Your uncle was a very wealthy man.

In time, you would inherit his fortune,

but your gambling debts grew heavier,

and M. Pace refused to bail you out.

You desperately needed the money now,

and so on that fateful night,

M. Pace was shot

in cold blood.

Prove it!

You just prove it.

That is a lying slander.

You're going to find yourself in court, Mr. bloody Poirot!

And who is this Mrs. Middleton

I'm meant to have been an accomplice of?

You can't even find her.

So you busy yourself accusing everybody else!

You think that Hercule Poirot is unable to find

this mysterious Mme. Middleton?

Hercule Poirot knows a way

to make Mme. Middleton

appear in our midst as if by magic.

You do not believe in magic?

Very well.

I have only to tap with my cane

on the floor three times,

thus.

Un...

...deux...

...trois.

Can we not stop this charade, Chief Inspector?

I don't know, sir. I've always enjoyed party games.

Silly dog, what's it doing?

Will somebody take it away?

Stop it!

-Stop it! -It's all right, Zoe.

Come on, girl. Come on, heel!

That's it. Good girl. Come.

I don't know what your silly game is,

but it seems to have gone horribly wrong.

Now, leave her alone!

Zoe had nothing whatever to do with this Mrs. Middleton!

On the contrary, M. Archie,

Mme. Havering had a very close relationship

with the housekeeper, Mme. Middleton.

The odd thing about it being

was that they were never once seen together.

This temporary housekeeper had only recently been employed

for the family's stay at Hunter's Lodge.

She left little notes for the servants

and kept herself to herself.

If the mistress was at home, the housekeeper was absent.

When the housekeeper was downstairs,

the mistress was in her room.

And that is where, on the night of the murder,

after she had been interviewed by the police,

Mme. Middleton disappeared forever

from the face of the Earth.

Because it was you, Mme. Zoe Havering,

together with your husband, you planned and carried out

this murder ingenious.

Together, you plotted to rid yourselves

of your uncle that was hated

and to lay your hands, at last, on his money.

I must ask you both to come with me to the police station.

How dare you? This has gone far enough.

I do not intend to stand idly by --

Oh, shut up, Roger!

But why did she have to bury the bicycle?

How could she leave it lying around, Hastings?

If it was found and identified by M. Anstruther

as the bicycle that was stolen outside the railway station,

then it would show that the murderer

was still close to Hunter's Lodge.

Oh, hello, Mr. Poirot.

M. Anstruther.

The blackberry tea did the trick, then?

It did, indeed, monsieur.

it also stimulated the little gray cells to such an extent

that it enabled me to track down your bicycle.

It's a bit of a blooming mess, isn't it?

-Yes, it got buried. -Buried?

Buried.

It's all covered in mud and mold.

And I regret that I did not have the time

to clean it for you, monsieur.

I don't know as I could be seen

riding about on a thing like that.

That mud guard's all bent, too.

M. Anstruther,

do you or do you not want your bicycle?

Oh... Oh, just leave it there.

I'll see if the boy can do anything with it.

Is this gratitude, Hastings?

Is it for this that Hercule Poirot

exerts his talents on behalf of the world?

Do you expect gratitude? Don't make me laugh.

Now you know what a real detective feels like.

"A real detective"?

The Chief Inspector Japp is truly most amusing,

-do you not think, Hastings? -Oh, yes.

Most amusing.

For a policeman.