All language subtitles for Inspector Morse - S07E03 - Twilight of the Gods.eng

? WAGNER: G�tterd�mmerung

? Wi�t ihr

? Wie das ward?

? O ihr, der Eide

? Heilige H�ter!

? Lenkt euren Blick auf mein bl�hendes Leid

? Erschaut eure ewige Schuld!

? Meine Klage...

You're not going to really let him
put up this Rajput palace, are you?

A lot of good judges
consider the architecture of the Mogul empire

at least the equal of Renaissance Europe.

Well, he certainly looks like a Mogul.

The style's appropriate. Andrew Baydon made
his fortune selling educational hardware to Asia.

The main aim of the College is to bridge
the academic divide between East and West.

Well, maybe this'll do for the Eastern end,
but er...for Oxford?

Chinese pagodas in the parks next.

Lyman...

Right this moment,
Oxford has 1 6 frozen professorships.

1 6 of the major academic chairs in the country
unoccupied.

Baydon's gift means
we can unfreeze ten of them.

What should we do?
Throw the money in his face?

Who's peddIing this trash?

There's not a word of truth in it.
Not one single word.

- l'm sorry, sir.
- It's maIicious, scandaIous sIander!

l don't know where Mr Baydon is.
l don't have his agenda.

BAYDON: Your scummy, scabby, filthy,
fascist rag will never appear again!

Yes, sir. Certainly.

- You can't hide behind your insurers.
- Goodbye.

l'll sue you separately for personal damages,

so you won't have a shoe
on your stinking, slanderous foot.

You'II Iimp in the gutter
for the rest of your IibeIIous Iife.

(Buzzer)
- Yes?

Mr Baydon, sir, the Secretary of State
wonders if you can spare a word.

Knobhead!
That's the word l can spare. Knobhead.

(Welsh accent) Br�nnhiIde's put up with a Iot.
Siegfried's betrayed her, Iied to her,

gone off with another girl.

Of course, she knows he was drugged,
but now it's too late. He's dead. Just like a man.

(Laughter)

Still, she's ready to die for him...
throw herself on his funeral pyre.

lt's a grand passion, see?

That's what you've got to go for.

The grand passion. Go on.

? Wie Sonne lauter strahlt mir...

l'm sorry, lovey, but you sound
like you're giving the weather forecast.

(Laughter)

Listen.

(Piano begins)

? Wie Sonne lauter strahlt mir sein Licht...

But suppose she... l mean, suppose she...

She won't.

Just do what l say, when l say it...

and everything will be OK.

? Heia jaho! Grane!

? Gr��' deinen Herren!

? Siegfried!

? Siegfried!

? Sieh'!

? Selig

? Gr��t dich dein Weib!

(Cheering)

Bravo!

Bravo!

(Dog barks)

"There are other Oxfords,
at Ieast five in Canada aIone.

There's one in New ZeaIand, one in Jamaica.

As for America,
there's hardIy a state without one.

Oxford, AIabama. Oxford, Idaho.

Mississippi, MaryIand, New York.

But, spIendid though these pIaces may be..
indeed, in their own way, undoubtedIy are...

places of beauty, perhaps...

perhaps - who knows? -
places of learning, even...''

You can't say ''even''.

lt's too rude. Nor ''Who knows?''

Well, nobody does know. Nobody
has the least idea what these places are like.

The people who live in them know.
And this one needs their dollars.

Oh, Lord! Very well, then.

''Places of beauty, perhaps.
Perhaps, places of learning.''

- There's no ''perhaps'' about it.
- lt spoils the rhythm not to say ''perhaps''.

lt's too...Oxford, Harold.

Oxford, England.

But l am Oxford. The Chancellor of the University
is the University.

''Places of much beauty,

I'm sure.

Places of equal learning.''

Much better.

LEWlS: And you didn't see anyone else?

Oh, there's usually a man
with a horrible bull terrier called...Snap.

But they weren't here this morning.

But l'm...

l was earlier than usual.

We're off to Greece this afternoon.

Excavation season.

You don't happen to know the name
of Snap's owner, do you? Just in case.

We only say ''good morning''. Barely that.

Bull terriers.

Oh, he lives over there,

somewhere.
But l didn't mean... l hope you don't think that l...

Oh, l never think. Sergeants aren't allowed to
in the Thames Valley.

- What?
- Anyway, thanks very much.

lf you wouldn't mind waiting
till the Chief lnspector gets here.

l'd like a dozen er...

No, no, two dozen of these roses,
the long-stemmed ones. They are fresh?

Oh, yes, sir. Some poor sod got up at dawn
to pick those. Look, real dew.

Not much scent.

Give them a chance, guv.
They've still got the sleep in their eyes. Like me.

Good God.

ls that what they cost?

They do say, with roses, a dozen says it all.

No. No, no, er...two dozen.

To be sent to Miss Gwladys Probert
at the Concert Hall.

Ah, the Welsh canary bird.

Yes. To be there for her concert this evening.
They'll be sent in by then, won't they?

They'll be singing their little hearts out.
Don't you worry.

Give her a big trill!

(Florist laughs)

Now, the message is:
''To the greatest diva of her time,

with grateful thanks from...an admirer.''

Diva? How do you spell that?

D-l-V-A.

lt's the ltalian for goddess.

Oh, very classy.

She's not classy. She's classic.

(Shouting) Putain! Hwren! Ast!

Down behind the bus station, was it?
That's where all the tarts go. Trollop.

They'll never make you a Dame, Gwladys.
Not if you talk dirty.

- Where were you?
- lt's none of your business.

Oh, yes, it is.

You'd be nothing if it weren't for me,
Mari Probert.

A bit of nutty slack, that's what.

Scrubbing some coal miner's back in Trebanog
and thanking God you had the chance!

- Madame, please.
- Other hand, please, Madame.

There aren't any coal miners left in Trebanog.
You want to have a look.

Not a pit left in the Rhondda.
Shame, really. Everyone out of work.

And you'll be next!

God, all l ask is that you be at my concerts.
ls that so much? My own sister.

lt was a class, not a concert.

Concert's this evening.

Look at the IittIe sIag.

At it all night like an alley cat.

While l'm slaving to put clothes on her back,
she's stripping them off for anything in trousers.

Who was he, then? Hm?

Don't know his name?
Don't even know his name? ls that it?

Hwren!

(Knock at door)
- (Shouts) Yes?

Mrs Baydon, Madame.

Adele!

Sweetheart! Mwah. Mwah.

My dear. You slept well?
The pillows were hard enough?

lt was all perfect.

Especially the air.
So good for the voice, this country air.

And you, Mari?

- You were quite comfortabIe?
- Yes, thank you, Adele.

GWLADYS: You don't care what the room's Iike,

so long as there's a bed to lie back on.

Loves her bed, Mari does.

Mmm...l had a really nice lie-in.

l think it's time Madame was dressed,
Mrs Baydon.

Lord Crewe's benefaction is in one hour.

His name's Grimshaw, sir. Neville Grimshaw.

Oh. What makes you think that?

Well, it's on his driving licence
and all his credit cards.

How do you know they weren't stolen, Lewis?

Or planted on the body
by some fiendishly cunning murderer?

(Chuckles)

Did the pathologist say when he died?

Several hours ago.

- Several?
- Before midnight, he thought.

The pathologist claimed to think?

Still, we've got to be kind to these poor chaps,
haven't we?

They've got all their grisly tests to do.
Just the one shot, was it?

Yes, sir. There's a lady, sir.

Ah. Cherchez la femme.

No, it's the lady who found him.
She's going on holiday. Wants to get off home.

Well, let her go, Lewis. Let her go.

You've asked her all the relevant questions?
You're not holding her on suspicion?

No, sir.

Then why should l add to her stress and strain
by asking the same questions?

Send her on her way,
wish her a happy holiday from me.

l suppose it has to be murder?
lt couldn't be suicide?

No, sir. No powder burns. Look.

Pity. Such a beautiful morning.

Any sign of the gun?

No, sir.

All right. Better drag the river.

Right, sir.

lt would be nice
to be able to enjoy the lsis now and then,

instead of always having to fish bodies out of it.

- Are you feeling job stress, sir?
- What?

Oh, l was reading in the paper the other day...

Allowing the pages of The Sun
to pass before your eyes

does not amount to reading, Lewis.

Police Sergeant, it said,
very high-risk occupation.

Long hours, stress and that.

And what about the distress
you cause Chief lnspectors?

Not enough time for families and friends,
recreation, hobbies...

Well, then, you must make time, Lewis.

Not for hobbies, but for art, for nature.

Last night... Last night...

l experienced...

WeII, it's very hard to put into words, reaIIy.

(Chuckles)

Oh, for God's sake, Lewis!
ls that all you can think of?

You're supposed to be a married man!

Well, you didn't go off beer
just cos the pubs are always open.

But you bring everything down
to such a mundane level.

You know, the world is full of such...possibilities.

(Starts engine)

- Where are we going?
- Back to your mundane world.

People called Grimshaw.
Life without art or imagination.

? Lenkt euren BIick auf mein bI�hendes Leid

(Piano)

(Humming)

B flat, instead of B natural,
which she always sings.

(Both humming)

? Da da da-da-da

And the other place she goes wrong is here.
l think it's cos she breathes here.

? Mich

(lnhales) ? Mu�te der Reinste verraten...

Simon.

l'm sorry. There isn't going to be room for you
in the helicopter after all.

Arabella Baydon's got to go back to her college
to clear her room, so there's only one free seat,

and Madame wants Pierre.

Pierre?!

You're to join Madame at the Concert Hall at five.

Tammy's leaving at 4:30.
You can travel with her.

l am not travelling with Tammy!
l am not a servant.

Those are Madame's instructions.

(Hissing) Where is Madame?

? CHOPlN: Polonaise Opus 40, No.1

(Knock at door)

Why didn't you go last night?

- l hate opera.
- You didn't when you wanted Pavarotti tickets.

You don't have to believe everything l say.

l don't believe anything you say.

You believe the pay cheques, don't you?

No-one really likes opera.

People only go for the intervals.

Not Adele and Arabella.

Do you know how much Adele's passion for
the voice of Gwladys Probert cost me last year?

Nothing. You wrote it off to public relations.

- What's this supposed to be?
- Your doctor's robes.

Couldn't you get me something
with more pizzazz?

Like what Gwladys has?

She's Music.
You asked for Law, if you remember...

because you hold Law in such high respect.

Don't you get sassy with me, you fat cow.
There are plenty more where you came from.

This came while you were titivating.

Get me that knobhead.

Which particular knobhead, Mr Baydon?

The head knob.

Williams.

Found him, sir.

The murderer? Already?

No. l mean we've found where Grimshaw
was staying. And he is Grimshaw.

Shh.

There.

Damn!

Seven seconds off the record.

lf you hadn't come barging in like that...

The person from Porlock - that's who you are.

No, sir. Newcastle.

So, who is Grimshaw?

Some sort of journalist, looks like.

No loss, then!

Been staying in the RandoIph for three nights.

Went out last night.
Hasn't been seen since.

Bags and everything still in the room.

Good. Well done.

Now, tell me who killed him,
and we can go home.

Someone with a gun.

Anything interesting in his things?

l thought you'd want to go through them, sir.

Oh, can't you do that? l'm not in the mood.

l feel too...too...

l'm still up from last night.

l'm not sure l don't prefer you down.

Down? l'm never down, Lewis.

l'm the cheeriest Chief lnspector in the Division.
Everyone knows that.

(Laughs)

(Chuckling) Come on, then.

Off to the Randolph.

At least they serve a decent pint.

Modern Mogul's magic carpet.

l'm surprised
he hasn't beamed himself here by satellite.

(Helicopter)

(Humming)

Freelance. He was a freelance.

No-one would pay him to write lies full time,

so he wrote them on spec instead.

Oh, yes.
He was here to write about Andrew Baydon.

As though
anyone ever wrote about anyone else in Oxford!

That place he wants to build...
lt's like an lndian restaurant.

l suppose you think
the Taj Mahal is a restaurant.

Yes, sir. Down the Turl.

The Taj Mahal, Lewis...

(Chuckling) All right. All right.

What does Grimshaw say about Baydon?

He calls him
''a demigod of Third World education.

No-one ever says a bad word
about this secular saint,

and, of course, it's difficult to criticise anyone
who's been in a Nazi concentration camp.''

Anyone can be snide. What have you got?

Diary. Address book. Not much else.

Well, you take those. l'll bring these.

Back to the office, sir?

No, to the Sheldonian Theatre, Lewis,

where Andrew Baydon is about to graduate
from demigod to honorary Doctor of Law

at the University of Oxford.

(Bells peal)

(Camera clicking)

Pageboys and beadles.
Bedales, or whatever they're called!

Do you think
Oxford will ever enter the real world?

Oh, God, no. l hope not.

Ready, Stephen?

Coming now.

That's her, Lewis. That's Gwladys Probert.

Which one's Andrew Baydon?

(Gunshot)

Please, let me in here. l'm a medical man.

She's been shot.

Everyone, get away!

Clear the area! Get back! Get back!

Keep those gates shut. Come on!

You two, get everybody under cover fast.
Now! Move!

Move! Shut those gates. Quickly!

Come on. Everybody under cover!

(Siren)

No, no, not through here. Take them
round the Clarendon entrance. Quick as you like.

Shut this gate. Don't let anybody in or out.

The situation's under control, sir.
The area's been...

CONSTABLE: Please, will you just stand back?
There's nothing to see.

Please. Just stand back.

But l work for her.
Don't you understand? She needs me.

l'm sorry, sir.
No-one's allowed to leave the building.

- But if Madame just...
- There's a gunman out there, sir.

Now, please, just sit down.

BAYDON: It came from there.

No, it was there. l'm sure.

No, it was one of those windows. Look.

WeII, there were beIIs. It wasn't possibIe to...

- Couldn't it have come from there?
- No, no, no.

No, it came from that side.
You saw the bullet wound.

Why would anyone...? Her?

Perhaps it was meant for me.

No. My enemies wouldn't miss.

She's famous.
That's all you have to be these days.

But this isn't America.
Guns aren't that easy to... And she...she's...

LEWlS: AII cIear, sir. AII cIear.

MORSE: Right. Thank you, Professor Cartwright,

and Mr Baydon.

lf you'd like to make your formal statements
to one of the officers.

Got both the College and the library
heavily manned, sir. All safe.

l hope to God it is,
if there's still some madman running about.

Morse!

What the hell do you think you're doing here?

Ladies and gentlemen. Order, please.

Ladies and gentlemen,

will anyone who was inside the building
at the time of the shooting and saw nothing

please leave by that door,
and give your name to the constable as you go.

Anyone who was outside, or saw anything,
please remain here.

l repeat:
anyone who was outside or saw anything...

please remain here.

Thank you.

Oh, good Lord! Then we'll be hours.

Did you see anything?

Well, l think l heard the shot.

Well, go and tell them, then.

And be quick. l want my lunch.

This is all very unsatisfactory.
Who's in charge here?

- The police, Chancellor.
- Oh!

Well, can't you do something, Davies?

Well, no, l...l don't think l can, sir.

Go on. Go on. What's the point of high office
if you can't use your influence?

Ask one of those chaps there about lunch.

Excuse me, Officer. l'm the Vice Chancellor.

Would it be possible
to speak to whoever's in charge?

Not at the moment, sir. No. Sorry.

You can't! You're working on another case.

Sir, l was here when it happened.

l know who Gwladys Probert is. l know her work.
l've already started questioning witnesses.

- You've no right to, without authority.
- Oh, for God's sake!

- You're investigating the Grimshaw murder.
- There may be a connection.

Two shootings in one day.
How often does that happen in Oxford?

You need someone
who knows the ins and outs of the University.

You've got the entire academic establishment
in there, from the Chancellor down.

Oh, my God! Lord Hinksey.

See you in the pub at six. Bye.

Bella!
Aren't you watching your dad being doctored?

Dad gets so many of these things.

Anyway, l've got to go and clear out my room.
Damned conference.

Mm, l know. But the College
has got to make money somehow.

Want me to help you pack?
Then we can go on the river.

l still can't get over last night.

ARABELLA: Wasn't she fabulous?

MARK:
l've decided l'm going to be an impresario.

Go round the world listening to great singers,

then bring them to England
and put on huge concerts in the Albert Hall.

Why not Wembley Stadium?

What the hell...?

First, it was definiteIy not a random shot.

Oh? Why?

The gunman only fired once.
We all agree on that, don't we, Lewis?

Yes, sir. Only one shot. Definitely.

So, if it had been a psychopath
with an automatic weapon,

no senior member
of the University would be left alive.

So, the second thing we know is: whoever it was

was interested in her, not the University bigwigs
or other honorary Doctors.

But why? And why here?

That's what we've got to find out, sir.

This is an Oxford crime.
lt needs an Oxford man to solve it.

- All right, Morse.
- Thank you, sir.

What do you want? Roadblocks?

What's the use? He'd have got away by now.
Anyway, we don't know who we're looking for.

Well, whatever you do want...

Only, with all these bigwigs about,
the publicity's going to be massive.

For God's sake, don't mess it up, will you?

Hm?

- What's missing?
- Just my jewellery...l think.

How awful. Was it very expensive?

No, no, nothing valuable.
l don't keep anything valuable here.

Oh, but my...my pretty bead necklace...
The one l got in Bali.

You were wearing it last night.

Oh, was l? Oh, yes.
Thank God for that. lt must be at home, then.

What about cash?

Taught to keep my money in my purse.

Daddy's Rule No.1 .

God, it's so...so disgusting!

Someone...someone rummaging through my...

Eurgh. l'm going to get all this washed
and give it to Oxfam.

Well, it's...it's dirty. Everything that he touched.

- He?
- Only a man would make a mess like this.

What did he have to do this for?
Muddling up all my notes.

For God's sake!

Gladstone and Disraeli
in with Rousseau and Karl Marx.

They won't like that, any of them.

Oh, and here's your own family story:
The Rise Of The Gentry.

Look. All mixed up with the Poor Law.

Well, we're not gentry. Thank God.

Much too rich for that.

Did you put that drawer back? The bottom one?

No, it was like that.

Oh, God, no!

Excuse me. lnspector Morse?
No, Chief lnspector, isn't it?

l'm the Vice Chancellor. Davies. Watkin Davies.

Yes, sir?

Dreadful erm...business.

Dreadful. Might l have a quick erm...?

Yes, of course.

Lewis,
see if anyone's come up with anything in there.

How is she? Will she erm...?

l don't know, sir. l imagine
they're operating to remove the bullet now.

You knew her, sir, personally?

Oh, God, yes.

Gwladys and l...

we went to the same chapel.

Our fathers worked down the same pit.

Was it your idea
to give her the honorary degree?

Well...all Oxford knows about Pontypridd
is Tom bloody Jones,

so, when l became Vice Chancellor,

my word counts for something
on matters like that.

- l should hope so.
- Huh! You don't know.

University politics.

And anyone Welsh...in England.

Why do you think
Gwladys has never been made a Dame,

though she's the best bloody Br�nnhilde
since Kirsten Flagstad?

Better, l'd say.
Of course, l've only heard Flagstad on disc.

But er...

Was there any opposition to her?

Hm! Only the Professor of Music. Pollock.
He was very against it.

Why?

He's one of these chaps who thinks...

banging a saucepan on the lid of a piano is
better than opening it up and using your fingers.

Yes, but even a man like that...
l mean, he wouldn't...

Oh, l couldn't say.

His favourite piece of music is that three minutes
and so many seconds of silence. l know that.

ls he here?

Refused to attend.
Said l'd overridden his authority.

Wouldn't even come to the lunch.

- (Whispers) About the lunch, lnspector...
- What lunch?

Simon was coming.
That's Madame's voice coach.

But there wasn't enough room on the helicopter,
you see.

So Madame preferred to have me.

You're the er...hairdresser? ls that right?

l'm Madame's stylist.

People expect a star to look like a star.

That's why Madame takes me everywhere,
you see. She trusts me completely.

Did anyone come with you?

Mari. That's Madame's sister.
l don't know where she's got to.

On the way here, we stopped by this bookstore,
and she said she wanted to get something,

so l said l'd go along ahead and save her a seat.

She gave me this. See? To put on it.

But erm...

she never turned up.

Had Miss Probert been staying with you, sir?

Well, l should have liked her to, of course,

but she goes round
with such a great gang of people.

Actually, she's staying with the Baydons,
at Charlton Woodville.

Adele Baydon
never misses one of Gwladys's concerts.

Follows her round the world.
A groupie, l think they call her.

And, of course, as he was getting a degree too...

There was some opposition to him, l believe.

Oh, no, not him personally. No.
More to the plans for his college.

Actually, some of us are hoping
the planning authorities will come to our rescue.

Not that that's anything to talk about now,
of course.

- Andrew! Given your statement?
- Yes.

l'll just go and give them mine,
and then l'll join you at All Souls.

- What?
- For lunch.

The priorities of the academic world,

lnspector.

You've got a lot of guests, l imagine, sir.
l didn't realise that Miss Probert is one of yours.

Oh, my wife and Gwladys...

She's got quite an entourage,

l understand.

R�p�titeur, voice coach,
secretary, dresser, coiffeur...

She doesn't visit, she goes on progress.
Like a medieval monarch.

She was going to give a concert here tonight,
you know.

Yes, sir. l was going.

Ah. Well, any further help l can give you...

Well, there is one thing, sir.
There's no connection, as far as l know, but...

Do you know a journalist called Grimshaw?
Neville Grimshaw. Freelance.

l don't think so.

He was writing a piece about you.
l wondered if he'd been to see you.

Erm...last day or two, it would have been.

l'm sure not, but l see so many reporters.

Why?

He's... He died, sir.

Oh. Well, ask my secretary.
She keeps my diary. Helen Buscott.

Thank you, sir. l shall be going over
to Charlton Woodville this afternoon...

question Miss Probert's people.

My staff will give you every assistance.

l've been with her for over a year now,
and l must tell you, it's been fantastic.

Oh. That's the man that went in the ambulance

with Madame.

PlERRE: Oh, no!

Oh, no!

Madame!

Madame!

Excuse me, sir.

- How is she, sir?
- Holding her own, just about.

Are you the policeman in charge?

- Yes, sir.
- What a pity they had to call you in.

The proctors
could have handled it perfectly well.

lt was much better in the old days,

when all crimes on University property
were dealt with by the proctors.

Knew what they were doing.
StiII, since you are here,

can't you get a move on?

All these questions
seem to be taking an inordinate amount of time.

Police work is slow, sir.

Has to be.

Did you hear the shot yourself?

No, no, no. Far too deaf. l told that constable.

Listen, l'm giving an important speech
at the Encaenia Tea this afternoon.

My farewell to Oxford.

l...l hope you're not going to try to cancel it.

Do you think anyone will want
to attend a tea party after this, sir?

Well, why not? She's not dead, is she?

- No.
- WeII, there you are, then.

l mean, of course, if she'd been dead...

But we mustn't give in. Business as usual.
That's how we won the war.

The Encaenia Tea must definitely take place.

How far is it from here to Lonsdale College?

Quarter of a mile.

And any number of places en route
where you could get close to Gwladys Probert.

So, why choose a library full of people instead?

Perhaps it came from Hertford College, then.

Why a college with only one way in and out?

Where did you think the shot came from?

Well, it's like a soundbox here,
all this stone.

Noise bounces every which way.

Let's have a look.

Walk beside me.
l'm Gwladys Probert. You're Andrew Baydon.

We get to here.

But once we've turned, the people behind would
have hidden me from Hertford, wouldn't they?

- Looks like it, yeah.
- Well, then, it must be the library.

But why choose a place notorious for silence
to fire a shot?

Come on.

LEWlS:
How many people were in here at the time?

Not more than half a dozen.

Exams are over, you see.

Most undergraduates have gone down.

And this end is mostly used
by research students, anyway.

Where were they sitting?

Scattered about. But at the window, mostly.

Shhh!

Watching the procession.

l was, anyway. Well, it's only once a year.

So, if anyone had fired a gun...

Oh, we'd have heard.

ls it possible to get on the roof?

Not without a special key,
and it hasn't been issued today. l've checked.

That door there. There are stairs, aren't there?

That's right, yes. Were you...?

Mm. Yes.

- ls this usually open?
- Yes.

Anyone in here would have a pretty good
chance of finding themselves alone,

especially with term over,

- and the procession going on outside.
- Probably, yes.

Right. Thanks.

lf l might just have a word with my colleague.
You'll be in there for a while yet?

Of course.

lnspector.

It's Iunch time,

and people are getting very hungry.

Send out for sandwiches.

This is a library.

Eating is strictly forbidden.

lf you were a graduate,
l'd have thought you'd know that.

Well, then, you'll just have to wait
until the officer in charge says you can go out.

l'm famished, myself.

(Slams door)

You don't suspect her, do you?

- Why not?
- Well, she was looking through the window.

She didn't say which window.

And who would know about this room
and the time of the procession? Would you?

Well, no, sir, but...

You're not a University man.
But a graduate, an undergraduate,

even someone who'd failed his exams,
a regular reader, any librarian...

Couldn't miss from here, though, could he?

There's no question she was the target.

Get this place cordoned off. Get Forensic in.

And l want everyone who was in this building
this morning questioned again.

Especially the staff.

And l want the whole library searched
from top to bottom, too.

Why her?
What harm does a beautiful voice do to anyone?

Or is it because it's so beautiful?
Do some people really hate art that much?

l wouldn't know.

You don't like art, do you?

l don't know anything about it.

But you suspect it. You think it's up to no good.
Something you wouldn't like if you did know it.

- No, l don't.
- You are like Plato, Lewis.

He wouldn't allow poets in his Republic.

Dangerous people. Have ideas.
Worse, they have dreams.

l've got nothing against dreams.

What we're looking for here

is the sort of person that slashes pictures,

takes a hammer to Michelangelo statues,
and a flame-thrower to books.

Someone who hates art and ideas

so much, that he wants to destroy them.

A fascist.

l don't want to destroy art.

l just don't like it
when people try and force it down my throat.

l'm not accusing you.

You have to care to want to kill.

So, who cared most about Gwladys Probert?

HlNKSEY: ls she really so very wonderful?
l'm getting so deaf, l can't tell.

CARTWRlGHT: She's terrific in Wagner.
- Oh, good. l like Wagner.

STANSKY: Why?
- You can have dinner between the acts.

Oh, yes? Discuss his ideas over a bottle of port?

(Laughs) Yeah, well, why not?

STANSKY: They're repellent.

Well, of course.

But the point about great art
is that it rises above the mundanities.

And you think
the concentration camps were mundane?

Oh, very, l imagine.

Lord Hinksey, l don't think this is quite
the time or place to discuss such matters.

lt is quite totally absurd
to blame Wagner for the concentration camps.

Well, he was Hitler's favourite composer.

Well, my favourite composer's Cole Porter.
What does that tell you?

- You're a closet gay?
- What did you say?

Lord Hinksey, Lyman Stansky has raised over 50
million dollars for the Oxford Appeal in America.

Well, l can't understand what...

Ten million are going to build a centre
for Jewish historical studies.

And l think we'd better sign you up
for the first semester, old boy.

Oh, look. Here comes an authority
on concentration camps.

Let's ask him how mundane his experience was.

Sergeant!

Miss Probert's hairstylist, sir.

- Well?
- There's still no sign of Mari.

- Her sister, sir.
- l don't know where she's got to.

But l found this...in her shopping bag.

lt's got Madame's name on it, but it's in Welsh.

Oh, for God's sake! Excuse me, sir.

We have something here written in Welsh.
Could you translate it for me?

Yes, of course.
Not very literary Welsh, l'm afraid.

Never mind about that. Just tell me what it says.

lt says: ''Mae'n ddrwg iawn gen i.''
''l'm very sorry.''

''Roedd rhaid i fi wneud yr hwn wnes.''

Well, that's more or less: ''l had to do it.''

''Roedd y dewis rhyngddo ti a fi.''
''lt was me or you.''

''Hwyl fawr.'' ''Goodbye.''

Who wrote this?

(Bleeping)

Let's go.

You should have told me
you'd heard from Freddy.

- He told me not to.
- But l've been so worried.

Not a word from him for months and months.
l can keep a secret.

- From Daddy?
- Oh!

Why can't Freddy and your father get on?
You and l do.

And Paraguay, of all places!

Listen, Mummy.

Look, someone wants to find Fred, very badly.

Someone who knew he'd been in touch with me,
or at least guessed.

- Who?
- lt was this journalist. At least, l think it was.

He kept on and on, asking me about Fred.

And what did you say?

Oh, that...Fred has always done his own thing,

and that Dad has always supported us
in our life choices. You know, the usual spiel.

But why would a journalist
want to take your jewels?

What else did this man ask you about?

My life choice.

l told him
l was going to run the Royal Opera House!

Mum...do you think l should tell the police?

l don't know.

No. Your father would get to hear, and...

Oh, it's...

RADlO: ..number of WeIsh sopranos
abIe to tackIe the heavy Wagnerian roIes.

Anne Evans, Gwyneth Jones,
and, of course, GwIadys Probert herseIf.

- Anthony Peattie, do you think there's...
- Right. Thanks very much. Yeah.

..since the earIy MiddIe Ages...

- All-ports warning gone out on Mari Probert.
- Shh.

..the huge success
of WeIsh NationaI Opera in Cardiff.

Where GwIadys Probert has sung many times.

Where wouId you pIace her
in reIation to other Br�nnhiIdes...?

LEWlS: Have we got time for a bite, sir?
RADlO: ..to the peak of her powers,

which is what makes this shooting
particuIarIy tragic...

Lewis, find out where the Professor of Music is.
Pollock, he's called.

STANSKY: What made you
pick on Mogul architecture, Dr Baydon?

He's not a Doctor. Not yet.
We haven't had the ceremony.

Can't we waive the point on a technicality?

No, no, no. We must follow correct procedure.

Otherwise, we'll have every rag, tag and bobtail
going round calling themselves Doctor.

Have you ever been to lndia, Dr Stansky?

Stansky is a Doctor, Chancellor. A medical one.

Yes. l've been to lndia.

Do you know of finer architecture
than those Rajput palaces?

Well, it's very fine there, but er...here, in Britain?
At Oxford?

Ghastly. Quite out of place.

But don't take any notice of me.
l'm just an old fogey.

BAYDON: You're right, Lord Hinksey.

Tell me,
which is the most memorable college in Oxford?

The one that people can always name?

l like Lonsdale. Went up in 1 91 9, you know.

Just missed the Great War by a whisker.

Thank God.
Or l'd never have got to be Foreign Secretary.

- Why not, sir?
- Would have been dead.

Stansky. Most memorable?

Well er...l don't know.

Magdalen, maybe, because of the tower.

Or Christ Church. Tom Quad.

Keble. Keble College. And do you know why?

lt's the ugliest.

Because it's the most flamboyant.
That's why people remember it.

The most flamboyant now,
but when people see my college...

Thank God l shaII be dead by then.

FRENCHWOMAN:
She hasn't taken her wash things.

MORSE: She must have Ieft in a hurry.

- How long were you all planning to stay here?
- Four days.

A lot of dresses for four days, surely, for Mari?

Madame must be in Z�rich
for rehearsals on Tuesday morning...

(Crying) Was to have been.

l have just...

Z�rich is devastated, naturally.

Of course.

Er...after Z�rich, it was Palermo.

Then Sydney.

Madame was not coming home till the New Year.

Where is home, exactly?

Madame has a villa in Antibes.
There is also a house on Guadeloupe,

an apartment in New York, and a fIat in London.

But, for an artist like Madame...

the only true home is the stage.

People think it is easy, the life of a great singer.

But there are many sacrifices.

She was married once, l think.

Mr Pappenheim.

He was a man of conventional opinion.

He did not understand that, for Madame,

her art must aIways be more important
than his Iife.

But the parting was amicable.

He gave her a very generous settlement,
as l recall.

A million-and-a-quarter dollars?

Has there been no-one in Madame's life since?
l'm sorry. l have to ask these things,

Miss de Plessy.

After the failure of her marriage,

Madame decided
no permanent relationship would be possible.

What about impermanent?

Madame is a woman.

ls there anyone now?
Anyone in the recent past?

Not that l am aware of.

And what about Mari?

Oh, l believe she has had various relationships.
None has been more than transitory.

ls there anyone special

- in transit with her now?
- No.

Then who paid for all this?

All Mari's bills are sent to Madame.
l pay them for her.

What does Mari do in return?

Madame is devoted to her sister.

She takes her everywhere, pays for everything,
just because she's her sister?

Of course.

HELEN BUSCOTT: Grimshaw?
l certainly don't remember anyone of that name.

LEWlS: He was writing an article.

Many people write articles about Mr Baydon.
He encourages it fiercely.

Some people don't like him as much as others,
though, do they?

Especially not in Oxford,
with this new college of his.

He doesn't care. All publicity is good publicity.
ls Mr Grimshaw's piece friendly or hostile?

Well, the Chief lnspector said
it seemed a bit grudging...

He probably wrote for a highbrow paper, then.
They do so hate someone to be successful.

Well, he certainly never made an appointment.

He couldn't have interviewed Mr Baydon
casually?

lt's very unlikely. Mr Baydon is extremely busy.

That's why we keep a record
of all calls, letters, everything.

No, l think it's a scissors-and-paste job.

He'IIjust have got out the fiIes,

read what everyone else has written,
and rehashed it, getting it wrong.

Mm. We've got people like that...in Files.

How long have you been with her?

Nearly a year.

And people do say

- that she can be quite temperamental.
- She's impossibIe.

We all get fired three or four times a day.

And what about Mari? Does she get fired, too?

Twice as often.
She gets things thrown at her, too.

Really?

Reminds Madame of her childhood, l guess.
lt was pretty rough, you know.

She was the eldest of 1 4.

How the mother survived...

Madame visits her pretty regularly?

Well...

Mrs Probert's so old.

And when Madame
took Mari away from home to live with her,

there was some kind of feeIing.

But Madame's always talking
about her family and her childhood.

The friendliness and warmth
of the terraced streets.

Zion ChapeI, where she sang.

Well, what else can you say? You know...

''l hated the choir.
l'm glad they turned that barn into a garage.

Wales was horrible. My father abused me.''

No, he didn't. l was...

But l...l thought she loved the place.

l mean,
she's always giving concerts in Pontypridd.

Oh, sure.

What would people say if she didn't?

But she doesn't stay.

ln private, she's sorry
she put the bathroom in her mother's house.

They don't even use it to put the coaI in,
she says, now they've got gas and eIectricity.

She thinks her brothers use it to make beer.

(Helicopter)

What do you mean, you don't know?
Well, find out, knobhead!

Dr Baydon!

Mr! They cancelled the ceremony,
just because of that bitch Gwladys.

This came from Williams.

Who's our contact in Asunci�n?

Wertheim.

Get him now.

Would you say Madame Probert
has any real enemies, Mr Vavasseur?

My dear, she's a singer.
No singer speaks of another without spitting.

But they don't actually shoot each other, surely?

They do on stage. Of course, these days,
there are some singers that shouId be shot.

(Chuckles)

So, is there anybody
who hates Miss...Madame Probert enough to...?

Well, there's Silvana Negresco.
She'd stoop at nothing.

- How do you spell that, sir?
- Oh, don't bother.

She's a ghastly poseuse with no voice,

who frumps about in hideous frocks,
missing her top notes by miles.

Anyway, she's in Rio,
doing The Flying Dutchman,

and believe me, with her in pursuit,

no wonder he's flying! (Laughs)

Mmm. Lovely handwriting, Sergeant.

So, how long have you worked as
Madame Probert's voice coach, Mr Vavasseur?

Ten years. Ten fabulous years!

Because...most murders are committed
by somebody very close to the victim.

- A member of the family, often.
- But we're her family.

Gentile Bellocchio, me, Brigitte.

Even that ghastly poncing Pierre
is like the naughty younger brother.

You can't imagine any of us...

Oh, no, no, no, sir. You were all here.

Apart from Pierre, who was at the theatre.

But what about Mari?

She's a member of the family,
and she's disappeared.

And she left a strange note
saying she was sorry.

Mari often nips off for a few days.

You know.

Well, you...
All of us have to have some life of our own

from time to time, or we'd all go mad.

So, where does she go?

- Well, with who, sir?
- Whoever.

Permanent liaisons
may be all very well in ordinary life, Sergeant,

and l'm sure
you're very happily married yourself...

Yes, sir. l am.

But we're none of us anywhere long enough
for more than a little...light refreshment.

Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.

Or sir, as the case may be.
You're not free this evening, are you?

Thank you, sir.
l'm investigating an attempted murder.

Well! Huffy-puffy!

You come here in your...horrible shiny suit,

trying to rake up dirt about a woman
we'd all give our lives for...

Well, you needn't think
you'll get any of that out of me!

You won't get anything out of me, neither, sir.

They were asking about a journalist.
Someone called Grimshaw.

Apparently, he was writing about you.
Only now he's dead.

- ls he?
(Phone rings)

Andrew Baydon's office.

Oh, Mr Wertheim. l'll put you through.

BAYDON:
Get me the file on Latin American outlets.

At once.

Wertheim? Got anyone in Villarrica?

Right. l want him to find an Englishman

travelling in the name of Henderson.
Been in Paraguay three months.

Find out if he's had any visitors.

Especially from England.
Especially called Grimshaw.

Grimshaw.

Yes. Any means. Any means at all.

(Playing piano)
l do not know. Nor do l wish to know.

That is not important.
What is important is art. Madame's art.

- Yes, of course.
- l have been with Madame 1 4 years.

Very early on,
l learned that if l wished to stay with Madame,

l had to pay no attention
to the stupidity around her.

l did wish to stay, so l...

What sort of stupidity?

She seems to change her entourage quite often.

Apart from you and Mr Vavasseur,
and Miss de Plessy...

everyone seems to have changed last year.

They come, they go.

Did something happen, then?

Was it in any way to do with her sister?

For God's sake,

- Mr BeIIocchio!
- l do not believe in God.

What happened last year?

lt's beginning to look as though
Mari Probert may have had something to do

with the shooting of her sister.

lf you know anything about it, you must tell me.

l believe there was some trouble
over an ignorant young man.

l cannot understand
why Madame should be interested

in someone who knows nothing about music.

- What happened?
- l don't know.

What was his name?

l don't remember.

(Plays)
Quavers. Semi-quavers. Those l remember.

A false piece of phrasing.
l remember that perfectly.

The rest...piffle-paffle.

(Plays slowly)

l am not a great artist, but l have a talent
to be useful to someone who is.

That is my soddisfazione in life.

What the great artist does
when she is not being an artist...

that, to me, is...

(High notes)

Who might remember this young man?

Madame and Mari, when they discuss
such matters, they speak in Welsh.

But Adele Baydon...

l think perhaps Adele Baydon might remember.

What about Mr Baydon?

He knows nothing. He is very ignorant.

He cannot even tell his Bach
from his Buxtehude.

- Who is Grimshaw?
- None of your business.

What time is it in Paraguay?

Middle of the night.

Never have children, Helen.

They grow up to hate you.

You're such a strong character, that's all.

Freddy and Arabella love you, all right.
They just find it very difficult.

They carry on behind my back.
So does their mother.

They betray me.

- ls that knobhead still here?
- Which one?

That superannuated policeman
with the scrapheap of a car.

l think so.

- What has he found?
- Don't ask me.

l do ask you, you stupid cow.

Why do you think I pay you?

Yeah, Pollock. Professor Pollock.

Oh. What, you've checked that, have you?

Oh, great. Thanks a lot, Linda.

(Chuckling) No!

No. Who told you that?

Lewis.

Yeah, l'll talk to you about that when l get back.
Yeah, cheers. Ta-ta.

Professor Pollock left for a festival of
contemporary music in Bangkok two days ago.

What a suitable place.

Get anything out of the voice coach?

Nothing we wanted. No, sir.

(Bleeping)

Excuse me. Can you tell us any more
about Madame Probert?

Oh, come on.

Chief lnspector Morse!

Come on!

- Chief lnspector!
- Can you tell us anything?

- Chief lnspector...
- How is she? Any idea who did it?

- No comment.
- Sir...

Sir! Are you going to see her, sir?

Of course not. l'm here for a regular checkup.

(Clamouring)

He's a bastard, that Morse.
l don't know how you can stick him.

Chris, listen.
We had a murder last night. One of your lot.

Freelance.
Neville Grimshaw. Do you know him?

- Don't think so.
- lsn't there one who writes for the posh rags?

l wouldn't know.
Sergeant, just give us a sentence.

- Is she going to Iive or die?
- Excuse me.

What's going to happen to Miss Probert?

Check the gases every quarter of an hour,
please.

Will she sing again?

Don't see why not. They're through there.
The mother seems to think she owns her.

l'll take her, you take the daughter.

Mrs Baydon. Miss Baydon.

My name is Morse, Chief lnspector Morse.
This is Sergeant Lewis.

- Have you found the gunman?
- Man? What makes you think it's a man?

Could we have a word?

You've no idea where Mari Probert might be?

She'II be aII right.

Of course she'll be all right.

Gwladys's marriage, you know,
was not...not a success.

l understand
the lifestyles were erm...incompatible.

No. No.

She liked the life. She liked the money.

lt was the sex.

He was no good at sex.
Not even very interested.

And many artists have healthy appetites.

Well, Gwladys is not as beautiful
as she once was, perhaps...

..and her taste is for very young men.

She chose Mari to Iive with her

because she was the youngest
and most beautifuI girI in the famiIy.

To attract young men?

1 8 months ago, Mari fell in love...

with a young man Gwladys wanted for herself.

Mari refused to pass him on to GwIadys.

l don't know what right she had to do that.

Gwladys has paid for everything for her
since she was 1 4.

ls that when half the entourage was sacked?

Well, people would take sides.

And naturally,
Madame didn't like it when people took Mari's.

l half-supported her myself, as a matter of fact.

But Gwladys is such a very great artist.

And we aII have to make sacrifices.

l think Mari was right to give him up in the end.

To er...to Madame?

No, no, no.
What sort of people do you think they are?

Mari loved him very much, but she gave him up,

for her sister's sake.

Aren't they repulsive? Like blowflies.

What baffles me is
why there have to be so many.

They all get the same story.

l'd like a machine gun.

Careful, miss.
One of them did get shot last night.

Maybe you knew him. Grimshaw, his name was.
He was writing an article about your dad.

Now, there's someone who Iikes journalists.

Never out of the papers, your dad, is he?
They seem to roll on their backs for him.

When...when was he killed, this Mr Grimshaw?

Late evening, they reckon.

But then...but then, he can't...he can't...

- Can't what, miss?
- (Raised voices)

MAN: Look...look...excuse me.
She's her sister. Look, l've got to go.

Oh, l want to see her. Where is she?

l want to see my sister.

(Bleeping)

Just one more minute.

Sergeant! Sergeant!

l decided l'd had enough.

l wanted my own life.

That's all the note meant.

We've been seeing each other again
for the last six months.

Of course, Gwladys knows nothing about it.

But er...

We're going to have a baby.

Oh.

Oh, l see.

GwIadys...

..she decided not to have babies.

Get in the way of her career, see?

And you never know
what it might do to the voice.

She came and took me away when I was 1 4.

l was her baby then.

Later...

..well...

Yes.

lt just goes on and on, that life, lnspector.

Round and round the world. Z�rich, Palermo,

- Sydney.
- ''The wheel of life'', Gentile calls it.

lt's been more like the wheel of death
the last few years.

But won't you miss the music?

The operas?

l've seen all the operas.

Baby clothes. That's what interests me now.

(Sighs) Well...

Well, you know your sister better than anyone.

Can you think who might...?

No. lt's a...

l couldn't believe it when l heard it on the news.

lt doesn't make any sense.

Things never do, till you find out.

Oh, sir. l've just been reading these notes
we found with Grimshaw's things.

Careful, Lewis. Reading can damage the eyes.

He says Baydon wasn't a prisoner
in a concentration camp at all.

He was a guard.

What's that got to do
with the shooting of Gwladys Probert?

lt might have something to do
with the shooting of Neville Grimshaw.

Miss Baydon just told me
he interviewed her yesterday.

And he told her that?
About the concentration camp?

Well, l don't know,
but suppose he told somebody else,

and that somebody told Baydon.

Who went and shot Grimshaw himself,
you mean?

Baydon is a link

- between the two cases.
- How?

He was also standing next to Madame Probert
when the shot was fired.

Well, you weren't so far away yourself.
Does that make you part of a criminal...

Oh, my God.

You're right, Lewis.

We've been investigating
the wrong attempted murder all along.

You've done it, Lewis. You've done it.

lt was Baydon they were aiming at,
not Gwladys Probert.

Only, he wasn't standing next to her
when the shot was fired. He was walking.

Turning.

A moving target.

Precisely. Always harder to hit.
And shooting down at an angle.

Go back to the Bodleian.

Check all the interviews for anyone
with any connection with Andrew Baydon.

Right, sir. Erm...

Only, according to this article,
his name isn't Baydon.

lt's Bagdonas. Anders Bagdonas.
He's a Lithuanian.

Of course he's a bloody Lithuanian.
lt's in all his interviews.

He was in a Lithuanian camp.

lmmediately, without fail.

Whatever else is happening.

OK, cow?

OK, sir.

Anything doing?

There's quite a number of foreigners.
Scholars from abroad.

- Any from Eastern Europe?
- One or two.

Let's have a look at them.

ARABELLA:
He asked where my brother was.

Why, do you think?

Oh, he was trying to dig up some dirt
about my father. Everyone always is.

Why should Grimshaw imagine
your brother would tell him any dirt?

Supposing that there's any dirt to tell.

l don't know. l mean, he...Grimshaw...

lt was as if he knew something l didn't,
and he needed Freddy to confirm it.

Any idea what that ''it'' might be?

No.

Why did your brother suddenly up and go,
Miss Baydon?

Oh, he never got on with Dad,

and he's not interested in publishing
and education and all that.

He once told Dad
that books were a waste of good trees.

He's very green, Fred.

But Dad made him go into the business,

and soon
Fred couldn't take the pressure any more.

- What pressure?
- Dad believes in the creative dialectic.

You have an idea, he has an idea.

The clash creates a new, third idea,
better than either.

Then he pretends
that the third idea was his all along.

(Chuckles)

MORSE: But why go to Paraguay, of all places?

Fred wanted to go somewhere so unlikely
even Dad would never think of it.

He was afraid he would follow him.

- Would he?
- Oh, yeah, sure.

Fred's his only son. That's why he travelled
under the name of Henderson.

How would Grimshaw have known
your brother and father had clashed?

lt's in the papers. We live in the public eye.
That's the way Dad likes it.

But what made Grimshaw think
you and Fred are in touch?

l don't know.

Has your father ever suspected it?

Well, l don't see how he could.
l mean, l didn't even tell my mother until today.

But if you and your brother are so close...

Well...well, l suppose so.

Does your father ever talk about his past?

The concentration camp.

Never mentions it.

Except to the press.
lt goes down very well with them.

Did Grimshaw mention it?

No. Why should he?

Well, he was doing an investigation.
He knew all about Eastern Europe.

Well, then, he knew a lot more than l do.

Actually, Lithuania's one of the few places
in the world Dad refuses to go to.

Fred went there, though. Last year.
Just before he took off for Paraguay.

(Helicopter)

Give you a hand, miss?

l am not ''miss'', if you don't mind.

Doesn't give you any longer arms,
though, being ''Ms'', does it?

What have we got here, then?

Robbie!

Oh, she's making triumphant progress.
Quite out of danger.

We could have had the ceremony, after all.
God knows when you'll be a Doctor now.

l am a Doctor, Lord Hinksey.

A medical doctor, yes.

Easy to be a medical doctor.
Just have to pass a few exams.

But to get an honorary doctorate...

And l've got two of those already,
as a matter of fact.

l've got 1 5.

1 6, if you count Yale.

l'm from Yale.

Well, there you are, then.
American degrees are just two a penny.

Er...Harold...

The only person interested in Baltic studies
recently has been Dr lgnotas.

He's been ordering up all sorts of odd things
from the stacks.

- Where's he from?
- University of Vilnius, Lithuania.

Where is he now?

He complained
there was so much disturbance in here,

l suggested the History Faculty Library.

BAYDON: l think it is quite right. The University
should not be frightened by a madman.

Madame Probert is making excellent progress.

Life, or what passes for life in Oxford,
must go on.

Oh, please don't quote that last bit.

lf you don't think much to life in Oxford,
Mr Baydon, why are you giving it a college?

We are in danger in this country
of slipping to second-class status

because we do not train
our young men and women.

When a nation neglects the education
of its sons and daughters,

when it fails to cultivate

the fIower of its youth,

when the institutions of learning
are forced to rattle the collection box...

l wasn't born in this country,
but l've made it my own.

l want to see it remain a great nation.

That is why l am doing my bit for Britain.

- Thank you.
REPORTER: Thank you, Mr Baydon.

ls there nowhere in this University
where a researcher can work in peace?

- Dr lgnotas?
- Yes.

Doing a bit of research myself, sir.
Thought you might be able to help me.

Just a few questions.
Do you mind coming down to the police station?

LEWlS: There's no question?

None. That's the right little finger,
clear as anything, on the pistol grip.

And there it is on his hand.

Right.

Right. Thanks.

l've never heard of this woman.
l know nothing of opera.

l'm tone-deaf.

How very sad for you, sir.

You're an historian, l believe.
What is your field, exactly?

The Grand Duchy of Lithuania
in the 1 5th century.

- Ah.
- You will not have heard of the Grand Duchy.

People in England
are not really interested what happens

- beyond the English Channel.
- Well...

Lithuania once stretched
from the Baltic to the Black Sea, lnspector.

lt may not have been as large
as the British Empire, perhaps,

but it crumbled less fast.

Two different guns?

That's definite?

No, no. lt means we're looking for two gunmen
instead of just the one.

Thanks, though.

Can we come
to some more rather recent history, Mr lgnotas?

Were you ever in a concentration camp

in the war?

Yes.

Have you ever described your experiences?

- Yes.
- To anyone in this country?

To a young man called Frederick Henderson,
perhaps?

Yes.

Or a journalist called Neville Grimshaw?

You're probably not aware that Neville Grimshaw
was found dead this morning.

He was shot

through the head.

Unless you killed him.

Had you been seeing him in Oxford?

l saw him last night at seven o'clock.

He came to the Bodleian Library.

- What about?
- He wrote an articIe.

A Sunday newspaper was going to print it.

They decided not to.

Hm!
Oh, you have such stupid laws in this country.

So the truth cannot be told.

Writs.

lnjunctions. Libel. Slander.

l don't understand these things.

lf something is true, it must be said.

But not in England. No.

Especially if the truth
happened 50 years ago in Lithuania.

His fingerprints on the gun we found, sir.
No question about it.

But Ballistics say
Grimshaw was shot with a different one.

Thank you, Lewis.

Mr lgnotas, were you ever in a camp
with a man called Anders Bagdonas?

Yes.

The man you met,
called Frederick Henderson, is his son.

What exactly did you tell him?

That his father...

collaborated with the Nazis.

He was a torturer.

He tortured Poles,

Latvians,

Lithuanians, Estonians...

Jews. lt goes without saying.

He tortured me.

But he has a camp number tattooed on his arm.

Anyone can have a tattoo at any time.

l've spent all these years tracking down this man,

and now, in the land of so-called free speech,

he can call the police
to prevent the truth from being told.

ls that why you tried to shoot him?

l'm sorry l'm a bad shot.

l'm sorry l hurt the woman.

Do you think Anders Bagdonas shot Grimshaw?

Oh, no.

He never shoots anybody.

ln the camp, he gave the orders.

Other people did the killing.

What you say, in court,

in this country...

There is no injunction against that?

No injunctions, no.

No writs?

Then l shall say everything there.

Of course, however many degrees you've got,
they do die with you.

l think l can live with that.

lf you want your name to go down to posterity,
you have to get it in the Bidding Prayer.

Absolutely essential.

Excuse me, Chancellor...

What?

lt's something we say
at the beginning of each academic year.

Naming our benefactors,

- thanking God.
HlNKSEY: Not that there is a God.

But if there were one, he'd be listening.

But your name does get recited,

and the Warden and FeIIows have to Iisten.

Then we shall certainly have a Bidding Prayer
at Baydon College.

Does it have to be Anglican?

Oh, when it comes to benefactors,
Oxford is completely ecumenical, l assure you.

Oh, yes. Put in every Tom, Dick and Harry.

Jews, Americans...anyone.

Just so Iong as they cough up.

l am not a Jew, Lord Hinksey.

- Why were you put in a camp, then?
- Because l was Lithuanian.

Oh! l thought you had to be Jewish. Well, well.

- Learn something every day.
- May l introduce you to my wife, Andrew?

Bethan, may I introduce you to Andrew Baydon?

What the hell are you doing here?

The knobhead detectives, sir. They're going
back to Charlton Woodville in a hurry.

But l told the Sergeant.
There is no record of anyone called Grimshaw.

l would like to check for myself. Please.

l'm afraid l really can't let you do that, lnspector.

This is a murder investigation. You want me
to charge you with obstructing my enquiries?

Childs!

DAVlES: Hush, pIease, Iadies and gentIemen.

As you all know,
the Chancellor has, to our great regret,

decided the time has at last come

to lay down the heavy burden of office.

But...he is not leaving us
without a last taste of his great wisdom.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the Chancellor of the University of Oxford.

There are other Oxfords.
At least five in Canada alone.

There's one in New Zealand, one in Jamaica...

and as for America,
there's scarcely a state without one!

(Helicopter)
- Oxford, Alabama. Oxford, ldaho.

(Helicopter overhead)
- Mississippi...

(Shouts) Mississippi!

Maryland! New York!

Anders Bagdonas
was the most ruthless guard in the camp.

He was particularly vicious
to his own countrymen.

Who told you all this?

A reliable witness,
who says he can produce 50 more.

A lot of calls to Paraguay today.

About his boy, were they?

Oh, God!

And there's a Williams. A lot of calls
yesterday and today, to and from a Williams.

Who's he?

Security. He's security.

Break into people's rooms, does he?

Nothing can save Mr Baydon's reputation,
Miss Buscott.

l don't think anything can save him,
but you might still save yourself.

Unless you want to go down as his accessory.

Helen! Fat bitch!
Where are you? Where the hell are you?

Where is that braindead hen? Pig-face!

- Nice way to talk to someone.
- Williams is the man dressed as a clergyman.

Why the hell didn't you come when l called you,
knobhead?

l'm not a knobhead, or a dog.

And l'm not braindead,
or a pig, or a cow, or a hen!

What's the matter?
The canary fallen off her perch?

Andrew Baydon,
l arrest you for the murder of Neville Grimshaw.

Yeah, l know the tests take time,
but if the gun's the right calibre, can't you...

Yeah, but the Chief lnspector
doesn't want to wait until tomorrow.

How sure are you now?

Oh, well, l think 90% is sure enough for us.

Thanks. We'll charge Williams right away.

Children - what are they for?
To bring their fathers to the grave?

You're wrong. Completely wrong.

Freddy couldn't bear what lgnotas told him.

He was afraid he might tell someone else.
His mother or his sister.

That's why he went away.

He went to find Nazis...

to tell him over and over again
his father was a criminal.

Actually,
he's working for an ecological foundation.

He is trying to save the planet.

Why did you go over to the fascists
in the camp?

Oh, you're so English.
You've led such a sheltered, English life.

Oxford.

A dream town.

But there...

..it was worse than any nightmare you could...

Life or death, every minute of the day.

My life or yours.
Can you understand that, knobhead?

No.

But even here in Oxford,
if you had to decide: l kill you or you kill me,

which way would you go?

l don't know.

Then you would die.

You'd really kill your own son
to preserve your reputation?

Kill or be killed.
That's what l learnt in the camp. That's life.

That's real life!

Well, well, well. What a day.

Two shootings, both cleared up.

And no nonsense from the press.

The Lord Lieutenant and Vice Chancellor
are delighted. Absolutely delighted.

Well, they won't have to have
this new college now, you see.

l wouldn't be surprised if there's not a gong
in this for someone, you know.

l don't approve of the Honours system.

Sometimes, Morse, sometimes,
l don't think you know

- which side your bread's buttered.
- And where are you

buttering off to this evening?

Well, as a matter of fact, l'm dining at Lonsdale,
as a guest of the Lord Lieutenant.

He's an Honorary Fellow.

l don't know how you can eat.

Not after Andrew Baydon.

Well, imagine being one of his victims.

Starving. Tortured.

Waiting to die.

That was all a long time ago, Morse.

So you won't let it spoil your appetite?

You know, the University is always moaning
about how it hasn't enough money.

And yet there's always enough
for a college dinner for 200 guests,

people like you to...

Now, if they sent you to a health farm
for a couple of weeks,

for scientific research, I'd understand that, but...

l'm sorry. All that butter makes me sick.

Well, you are sick.

You'd better take some leave.

l wouldn't mind a sabbatical.

Perhaps your friend the Lord Lieutenant
could arrange a year's research at Balliol

on ''police and social attitudes''.

Yeah. l'm not sure about Balliol, but er...

Enjoy your evening, sir.

Why am l here?

(Door shuts)

You want to get off home.

You look done in.

l am ''done in''.

(Sighs)

Art and life, Lewis.

Art and life.

- Oh, yeah?
- AIways preferred art, myseIf.

Don't know about life...

..and when l meet people like Baydon,
l'm not that sorry, but...

Today...

..l suppose because l've always thought

art was...

Because it gave me so much...

..l've always thought of artists...

..as...

..as being something different.

My dad used to love football,
but he didn't like footballers.

Keep the people who do things
apart from what they do.

That's what he said.

He was right.

l was going to go to her concert this evening.

There'll be others.

They won't be the same now.

Why don't you get off home to your wife, Lewis?

How is she?

Fine. She's fine.

ln tonight, for once.

Give her my regards.

Thank you, sir. l will.

Good night, Lewis.

Good night.

GWLADYS: ? ..entbrennt, heIIes Feuer

? Das Herz mir erfa�t

? Ihn zu umschIingen

? UmschIossen von ihm

? In m�chtigster Minne

? Verm�hIt

? Ihm zu sein!

? Heiajaho! Grane!

? Gr��'deinen Herren!

? Siegfried!

? Siegfried!

? Sieh'!

? SeIig

? Gr��t dich dein Weib!