All language subtitles for Murder.Most.Foul.1964.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX].SDH.eng

[Hinges squeaking]

[Knocks]

What's all this here?

[No audio]

You may choose,
members of the jury,

to believe the prisoner...

That, returning from a walk,

he found the hanging
Mrs. Mcginty

and was about
to release the rope

when police constable Wells
appeared on the scene.

On the other hand,
you may think the accused

intended to cover manual
strangulation of Mrs. Mcginty--

[clicking]

For motive's of greed--

with clumsy attempts
to make his mean crime

appear to be suicide.

[Clicking]

Madam, either you will
have to cease knitting,

or I will have to cease judging.

Which shall it be?

It helps me to
concentrate, milord.

It does not help me, madam.

Oh.

Very well.

Thank you, madam.

Uh...ah, yes.

If what I have just said
is the truth of the matter,

then the prisoner was delayed

in the execution
of his evil subterfuge

by the desperate fight
of his victim.

There were scattered
bank notes...

That pathetic crushed Rose
torn from her breast.

He was delayed, I say...

Long enough for
the timely intervention

of the alert
police constable Wells.

Summing up for
a conviction, inspector.

Judge: you may further
think that the accused...

Stand you a beer
afterwards, Wells?

Thank you, inspector.

Judge: ...Had every
opportunity of knowing

that the unfortunate widow

kept her life savings there,

instead of in the bank,

and that Harold Teeler
was bent on securing

her meager fortune.

If the facts as presented to you

admit of any reasonable doubt,

then the accused is entitled

to the benefit of that doubt.

But, members of the jury...

If you have been
convinced by the evidence,

beyond all reasonable doubt,

that the accused committed
this heinous crime,

then it is your solemn duty

to return a verdict of "guilty."

You will retire...

And consider your verdict.

I just have time
for that quick beer

before they come back, Wells.

Man: there's absolutely
no doubt in my mind

he's guilty.

He was caught red-handed
by the police.

[Door opens]

Uh, prisoner at the bar,

have you anything
to say before I--

not yet, milord.

Jury's still out.

Surely the time
is more appropriate

for a very dry Martini, Johnson.

Very good, milord.

[Yawns]

[Yawns]

What, more tea?

No. They're coming back.

Members of the jury,

are you agreed
upon your verdict?

No, sir.

What did you say?

We're not able to reach
an agreement, milord.

[Murmuring]

Judge: silence.

I will not have my court
turned into a beer garden.

I suggest you retire
for a further period.

I'm afraid it would be
a waste of time, milord.

I see.

Very well.

There will be a retrial
at a later date.

Jury dismissed.

If ever there was
an open-and-shut case,

this was it.

One member of that jury

was being deliberately perverse.

Many more than one,
inspector, I assure you.

Oh?

11, to be precise.

That woman's made a mockery

of my one and only murder.

No, no, no, Mr. Swanbridge!

You mustn't turn your
back on the audience.

I want them to see

the look of surprise
on your face.

Allow me.

Just once more, miss rusty...

Please.

Right.

Ah! Our lady president!

Carry on, please. Ah!

Try again.

And do please try harder,
Mr. Swanbridge.

My arm's getting awfully tired.

A little rough at
the moment, miss Marple,

but I'm confident it'll be
all right on our night.

Oh, of course.

Tea?

Oh, no, thank you.

Well, you found him
guilty, of course?

They did.

I did not.

But, miss Marple, surely--

you recall our production

in aid of the church
organ renovation fund,

the lodger's dilemma?

Unforgettable.

Well, you'll remember,
Mr. Stringer,

that the victim in that play

wore a Rose
to receive her paramour.

He murdered her,
the lodger was blamed.

Exactly.

Mrs. Mcginty wore a Rose
on the fatal night.

Oh!

Would it have been
to receive her lodger

when we have no evidence

of any...Dalliance
between them?

I hardly think so, madam.

Then she wore it
for someone else.

Her murderer, you think?

I do.

Rusty: excuse me, Mr. Stringer.

I'm sorry, but he still
keeps turning away.

What can I do?

We'll have to recast him.
I know...

Ask the vicar if he'll be
kind enough to have a try.

Yes.

Miss Marple,
if what you say is so,

then an innocent man's
life may be at stake.

What can be done?

Well, we can begin by
inquiring rather more closely

into the private life
of Mrs. Mcginty

than the police
have seen fit to do.

Yes. But how?

By returning to the scene
of the crime, as it were.

[Man screaming]

Oh, very good, vicar!

Excellent!
excellent!

Whoa.

Mr. Stringer...

If our plan works,

you're sure you know your part?

Oh, yes, I think so.

Down! Down!
You may be observed.

Yes?

I'm collecting--

no.

I'm collecting jumble
for the church bazaar.

You're a Christian, surely.

I should hope so.

Well, then.

Oh, well, if it's jumble
for the church,

there's plenty here.
Come in.

Oh, thank you.

Got all her stuff
here, you know.

You've heard of my
sister, of course.

Ah, yes.
The poor lady.

Oh, I always thought
she'd come to a bad end.

One of those
theatricals, you know.

Really? I thought
she was a barmaid.

Oh, yes, but she
used to be on the stage.

Did it in there, you know,

with his bare hands.

Gloved ones.

Well, it comes to
the same thing in the end.

This way.

She was always sticking
her neck out, that one.

She did leave you
her cottage, I believe.

Didn't have time to arrange
her will, did she?

No. It would seem not.

Still, I mustn't decry her,
my own sister.

Blood's thicker
than water, I suppose.

Here's all her stuff.
Nothing of value.

Probably got it from
a jumble sale herself.

She used to swear these
rat tails was mink.

And look at this coat.

I wouldn't be seen dead in it.

Can't imagine why she
dressed in these rags

when she had all that money.

A real little slut, she was.

I remember when she was a kid.

Always wanted to be an actress.

An actress! I ask you!

Mean, she was,
you know. Mean--

a little touch of rheumatism.

I find this beneficial.

Oh, really?

Yes.

You know, you should try

rubbing linseed and
vinegar into the joints.

Makes a new woman of me.

I'll bear that in mind.
Thank you very much.

[Knocking]

That'll be the insurance
man paying out.

You know, they don't like it

when the unforeseen does occur.

Persistence, Mr. Stringer,
persistence.

Foot in door.

Well, I hope you
brought it in cash.

Brought what, madam?

Oh, come on, come on, now.

I don't want the same trouble
as when my John passed away.

I don't understand.

Well, you are from
the insurance, aren't you?

Oh, no, madam.

No, I was hoping to interest you

in improving your mind.

I was wondering if you'd
allow me to show you

the new wonderbook.

Do.

Come in, Mr...Um...

Come in.

"Murder, she said.

Murder, she said.
Murder, she said."

Mm-hmm.

And as you can see,

the section on
our feathered friends

is most comprehensive.

Everything from
an albatross to a shrike--

a what?

A shrike. So named
for its incessant chatter

and predatory instincts.

It has a habit
of impaling its prey.

How interesting.

Look, I've got
an old woman upstairs.

I'll just get rid of her,

and then we'll have
a cup of tea.

Oh, no, please don't do that.

I can't trespass on
your generosity like that.

Oh, dear.
Poor Mr. Stringer.

Fancy me mistaking you
for the insurance man.

You're much too nice.

Oh, really?

Well, of course you are.

Now I come to think of it,

you don't really look
like a salesman, do you?

Don't I?

No.

So you're a bachelor,
Mr. Stringer?

Uh, yes.

Oh, I can always tell!

And I'm a widow.

I'd never have believed it.

Ahem.

Ah...
how do you do?

Oh, I see you got
what you wanted.

Yes, thank you.
Perhaps the gentleman

would care to help me
with these into the trap.

Yes, indeed.

Thank you.

I'll leave you
the book, Mrs. Thomas.

Brood on it, will you?

Brood on it.

What about the tea?

Good day, Mrs. Thomas.

So you're a bachelor,
Mr. Stringer.

Not staying to tea?

Oh, no, miss Marple.

Dear me...The lady
will be disappointed.

Up.

[Clicks to horse]

Miss Marple, I do assure you

I gave that woman
no encouragement.

It's of small importance,
Mr. Stringer.

Good heavens!
I've got it!

Jim...look.

Here's the page of
the Milchester gazette

I took from
Mrs. Mcginty's room.

Here's the identical
page I obtained

from the newspaper offices.

I've snipped out the same
words and letters...

And produced this.

A Rose...

A Rose...

[Dialing]

Milchester 862, please.

[Ring ring]

[Ring ring]

Oh, is that lady
Cynthia waterhouse?

Lady who?

No, this is
Mrs. Gladys Thomas.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I appear to have
the wrong number.

As I thought.

862 is the telephone number
of Mrs. Mcginty's cottage.

I'm afraid I'm at a loss.

Don't you see?
This type of message

is typical of a certain
kind of criminal...

The blackmailer.

Oh?

Yes. I think Mrs. Mcginty
may have been one.

Dear me!

Well, consider...

The Сosgood players

gave 6 performances
of murder, she said

here in Milchester
in the week of may 12 to 19--

the same week, incidentally,

as this issue of the gazette.

And here we have 6 programs.

Mrs. Mcginty appears to have
attended each performance.

Why?

It's an excellent play,
miss Marple.

True, but I believe
that her interest

was not primarily in the play,

former actress though
she may have been.

No. I am convinced
she was a blackmailer...

And that it was a member
of this company

whom she was blackmailing.

Her murderer, you suppose?

I do.

Hmm...now, I think
we deserve a small beer.

Yes, please.

Shh!

Oh!

It's you, inspector.

You gave me quite a turn.

You gave me quite
a turn, miss Marple.

May I come in?

Well...

Uh, yes.

It's inspector Craddock,
Mr. Stringer.

Oh...how nice.

Good evening, inspector.

Good evening.

Are we here socially
or officially, inspector?

Well...a little of both,
shall we say.

That poses
an interesting problem.

Socially, I can offer you
a small beer.

Officially, I cannot...
If you're on duty.

I, uh...

All right, miss Marple.

It's official.

Then perhaps some tea.
Won't you sit down?

Thank you, no.
This won't take long.

We were playing
anagrams, inspector.

Hmm.

Miss Marple, police
constable Wells informs me

that he observed you
this afternoon

pay a call at the cottage
of the late Mrs. Mcginty.

Oh?

Furthermore, you were
apparently impersonating...

A rag and bone dealer.

I certainly was not.

I was collecting jumble
for the church bazaar.

Is that so?

Well, if you don't believe me,

I suggest you ring the vicar...

Now.

Now, look here, miss Marple.

In the past, you've been

of some small help
to the police,

and we're grateful, naturally.

But at yesterday's trial,

you misguidedly interfered

with the course of justice.

I'd feel a lot easier
in my mind--

and so would the chief
constable, come to that--

if you would promise me
here and now

not to continue to do so.

You can have that promise
freely, inspector.

I have no intention whatever

of interfering with
the course of justice.

Yes.

Well, good.

There's no more
to be said, then.

No.

Well, I'll say good night, then.

Good night.

Yes.

Perhaps we should have
confided our suspicions.

Certainly not!

That man has just
thrown down the gauntlet.

You know what the police are.

The month of September, 1951...

This reference to a Rose...

These things must have
a great significance

for our man...

Or woman.

I suppose so.

The difficulty is,

the Сosgood players
have moved on.

I did read they were
at the palace theatre

over at helford.

Oh, yes.

There is no doubt in my mind

that one of these
playactors is a murderer.

If you're really convinced

of your theory, miss Marple,

I suppose we should
in some way, well...Act.

Act.

Of course! Why not?

That's what I must do.

After all, nothing ventured,
nothing gained.

Take our bags to the YMCA, Jim.

If I'm successful, I'll
collect mine from you later.

I really think I ought
to wait, miss Marple.

No, no. This may
take some time.

Au revoir.

All I know is that
we had over £300,

and now we've got nothing.

Where's it gone?
It's a simple question.

For simpleminded people.

And that's mine.

What's the use?

Ah...thank you.

Oh, daddy's
very Democratic, George.

He doesn't mind who I marry.

You could've put
that a bit better, luv.

If he's not asking
for a pedigree,

you're sitting pretty, eh, bill?

And you could've put
that a bit better, too.

[Door opens]

Oh, I was looking
for Mr. Cosgood.

Haven't I seen you
somewhere before?

Really? I wonder where
that could have been?

I'm not sure.

Probably in another dimension.

Don't take any notice of her.

She's our resident weirdy.

No. It was in a dream.

She and you, George.

Something to do with death.

Oh, please, Eva.

Can I help you?

Well, I have an appointment

with Mr. Cosgood.

Oh, he's probably messing about

on the stage somewhere.

It's over there.

Oh, yes. Thank you. I'll
find him, young man.

Mr. Cosgood?

Mr. Cosgood!

Mr. cos--oh!

Man: are you
Jane marble?

Marple, if you please.

Very well.
Get on with it.

It?

I have a performance
in half an hour, madam.

Whatever you have chosen
to do for me, do.

Oh.

And throw your voice
to the back of the theatre.

I want to hear every word.

I can't catch what you say.

I want to hear every word!

Oh, very well.

The shooting of Dan Mcgrew...

By Mr. Robert W. Service.

Miss Marple: A bunch of
the boys were whooping it up

in the malamute saloon,

the kid that handles
the music-box

was hitting
a jag-time tune,

and back of the bar,
in a solo game,

sat dangerous Dan Mcgrew...

And watching his luck
was his light-o'-love,

the lady that's known as Lou.

When out of the night...

When out of the night
that was 50 below

and into the din and the glare,

there stumbled a miner
fresh from the creeks,

dog-dirty
and loaded for bear.

Just give me the gist
and get to the climax!

Oh, dear me.
That's very difficult.

It's a long poem,

and there's
a great deal behind it.

However...as you wish.

Well, now, uh...

Soon after the stranger

has entered this lurid scene,

it becomes increasingly evident

that there is
a growing antagonism

between him
and Mr. Mcgrew...

An antagonism which is
to end in stark tragedy.

Uh...shall I pick it up
at the point

when the miner, seated
at the saloon piano,

is playing like a maniac?

Yes, yes. Please do.

Thank you.

And the stranger turned,

and his eyes, they burned

in a most peculiar way.

In a buckskin shirt that
was glazed with dirt

he sat...
And I saw him sway.

Then his lips went thin
in a kind of grin,

and he spoke,
but his voice was calm,

and "boys," says he,
"you don't know me,

and none of you
care a damn!"

Yes, yes, yes, but
get to the point, please!

"But I want to state,
and my words are straight,

"and I'll bet my poke
they're true,

"that one of you
is a hound of hell...

And that one
is Dan Mcgrew!"

Then I ducked my head,
and the lights went out,

and two guns blazed
in the dark...

And a woman screamed,
and the lights went on--

and two men lay stiff and stark.

Pitched on his head
and pumped full of lead

was dangerous Dan Mcgrew...

While the man from the creeks

lay clutched to the breast

of the lady that's known as Lou.

I'm not as wise
as the lawyer guys,

but strictly between us two...

The woman who kissed him
and pinched his poke

was the lady
that's known as Lou.

Are you still there?

You were joking, of course.

Joking?
indeed, I was not.

Oh. Then I am not
joking when I tell you

that if you persist in
this ridiculous notion

of joining our profession,

your wisest course
is to register at once

for unemployment pay.

That will not be necessary.

I am of independent means.

Dear lady...

You didn't let me finish.

You made your view quite clear.

No, no, no, no.
I was about to point out

that your performance
had merit--great merit.

Your choice of material
let you down.

Yes, definitely duchess parts.

Regal roles.

I see you, with other material,

performing like an angel.

Angel.

Is not that the term

for a backer of
theatrical enterprises?

Droll. Very droll.

No. I simply meant

you have a lot to offer
the theatre, Mrs. Marble.

Miss Marple.

Ah, I'm delighted to hear that.

In our profession,
the marital knot

is so often the bolt on the door

to the room at the top.

Do I take it, then,

that you are offering me
employment, Mr. Cosgood?

Well, as to that,
not exactly employment.

I was thinking

rather along the lines
of an apprenticeship.

Unpaid?

Well,
in a word...Yes.

I accept.

Splendid. Splendid!

Welcome to the Cosgood players.

Thank you.

Well, now...
As to lodgings,

I prefer to live, as it were,

cheek-by-jowl
with my colleagues.

Naturally, naturally.

We're at westward ho,
Prescott street.

Mrs. Harris--excellent
landlady, very clean.

Good. Well, I'll just
pick up my baggage

at the YMCA.

Au revoir.

Cosgood!

Drunk again!

Now, look here,
George--

this man is not drunk,
Mr. Cosgood.

He's dead.

[Police bell ringing]

Poisoned.

Poisoned!

Poisoned.

Arsenic, I'd say.

The autopsy will prove it.

Nonsense! George
drank too much.

It's as plain
as the nose on his face.

Now, sir, you say
you were on the stage

when he came up

from the direction
of the dressing rooms?

Yes, yes.

Inspector, the curtain
is due up in 10 minutes,

and you must appreciate

I now have two roles to play.

There'll be no curtain up
today, I'm afraid, sir.

But my audience--they'll
tear the place apart!

We'll risk that, sir.

I've got quite
a few questions to ask.

Questions? What about?

A man is dead, sir.
It's usual.

Damned inconvenient.

Yes, sir. Now, which was
his dressing room, sir?

Number two.
Look, inspector,

can't you get George
off the stage

and come back later?

No, sir. Number two,
you said, sir?

I knew something
was going to happen.

Really, miss?

Yes. I have premonitions
about these things.

I've always been like that.

That's very interesting.

Well, I told George...

As soon as I saw
that strange woman...

What strange woman?

The one who came
to see Driffold.

Driffold? Who--

Driffold Cosgood,
inspector. Me.

All right, sir.
What about her?

Her?

The strange woman, sir.

Oh, her. I'd just
auditioned her

when George interrupted.

Is the lady here now, sir?

I expect so. She'll
be about somewhere.

Oh, she seems to have gone.

Get a name and
description, sergeant.

Now, sir, any idea what
this lady's name is?

[Sniffing]

I've seen this somewhere before.

Not that one, inspector...

This one.

"Ring--"

miss Marple,

I distinctly asked you
not to interfere--

inspector, that
strange woman, it's--

yes--miss Marple.

Allow me.

Sergeant, would you
escort her to headquarters

and see that she makes
a complete statement?

I'll get around to her later.

After you, sergeant.

Sergeant, you sure
you didn't mishear

any of what miss Marple said?

I did not, sir.

No.

Well, will you come in,
please, miss Marple?

Certainly.

Almost a draw, sergeant.

[Door closes]

Well, please sit down.

Ahem.

All right, miss Marple,

let us suppose--
just suppose--

that Mrs. Mcginty

was blackmailing
one of those actors,

and let us suppose

that this was the actual
blackmail note she sent.

By all means, inspector.

Right.

Now, as it was lying
beside the whisky bottle

in George Rowton's
dressing room,

she must have sent it to him.

That does spring to mind.

So that she was
blackmailing him.

It would appear so.

Now, if there's anything
at all in what you say,

he murdered her.

On the face of it, yes.

So are we to suppose that today,

in a rather belated
fit of remorse,

he poisoned himself?

Perhaps.

Or are we to suppose
that someone else

poisoned him for some reason?

Again, perhaps.

Inspector, may I
ask you a question?

Please do.

If you had simply
found that note

in the victim's dressing room

and knew know more
about it than that,

what would you have
made of the affair?

Well, I suppose I'd have thought

the man was being blackmailed...

And had decided to end it all.

Yes, that's what I thought
you'd have thought.

It could be the note was
left there deliberately

so that you would think that.

Miss Marple, it's been
a long, hard day already.

What are you suggesting now?

I am suggesting

that the murderer
of Mrs. Mcginty

and the murderer
of George Rowton

are one and the same.

As to who murdered
George Rowton,

I don't yet know...

But I will.

As to who murdered
Mrs. Mcginty, I do know.

He is, at present, being
held in Milchester jail

awaiting a retrial

necessitated by the stubbornness

of a certain member of the jury.

And he killed her for her money.

Ah, yes.

That £100 that was
found by her body.

Doesn't it occur
to you, inspector,

that that wasn't
Mrs. Mcginty's savings at all...

But her payoff?

Are you trying
to make me believe

that whoever
she was blackmailing

brought the money, killed her,

and then, hearing
the lodger come in,

left it behind in panic?

No.

Well, then what?

I am proposing that,
like the note,

the money was left behind
deliberately.

What for?

Obviously, so that the police

would leap to the conclusion

they have leapt to.

Now, look here,
miss Marple--

if I were you, inspector,

I would at least examine

the bank accounts
of these people

to see if one of them
happened to withdraw £100

either on or about the time

of Mrs. Mcginty's death.

I will, of course,
investigate your theories.

In the meantime,
I'd be very much obliged

if you would go home to
Milchester and stay there.

I'm afraid that is out
of the question, inspector.

My work will keep me
here indefinitely.

Your work?

I have accepted an engagement

with the Cosgood players,

and a Marple's word is her bond.

Good day.

Cosgood:
"actor, playwright,

impresario,
man of many talents."

Mmm...might have used
a better photo.

You should worry!
It says here I'm 48.

Listen to this...

"Lady Sheila,

"stage-struck adopted
daughter of lord upward

and bride-to-be of juvenile
lead bill hanson, said--"

and I quote the quote--

"this will make no difference

to our wedding plans.

Daddy's
very Democratic."

Bully for daddy, eh, bill?

Arthur, you're
an absolute stinker.

Why don't you crawl
back under your stone?

Well, well, it's all good stuff.

Absolutely no rubbish.

A little notoriety always
helps the box office.

Arthur: too true.

Have you read this
about you, Ralph?

"Ralph summers,

matinee idol of mother's day,

now an aging, overweight
barmaid fancier."

Let me see that!

You're a nasty little
joker, aren't you?

I think that's very funny...

And so true.

Ralph:
nice wifely thing to say.

Well, your taste does
rather run to barmaids,

doesn't it, darling?

There was that one
at Milchester, remember?

The one who--

shut up, Maureen.

[Door opens]

Yes, Mrs. Harris?

Your new one's here.

Dear lady, I was
beginning to fear

we had created an unfortunate
impression on you,

in view of today's accident.

Oh, no, indeed.

I had a little business
to attend to.

Well, you're here, you're here.

Boys and girls,
meet miss Marple.

Miss Marple...
The company.

All: hello.

How do you do, everyone?

There's cocoa on the tray.

If you want the beer,
it's extra.

Yes, of course, a nightcap.
Do sit down.

Thank you.

Name your poison, dear lady.

I mean, uh...

Cocoa, please,
Mr. Cosgood.

An excellent brew.
I can recommend it.

By the way, the police
are looking for you.

Oh, yes. I have
spoken with them.

You have? Good.

I was thinking, Driffold,

why don't we revive
a kind of murder

as a sort of tribute to George?

Eh?

Well, I mean miss Marple
and Dorothy here...

Perfect for the two
scheming sisters.

Oh, I couldn't possibly
play a murderess.

Arthur:
couldn't you?

One of us could.
He or she's had practice.

And what's that
supposed to mean?

Let's face it, bill, old man.

Someone slipped a noxious dose

into old George's whisky,

and that someone
is in this room.

Oh, don't be ridiculous!

Cosgood: oh, no, no, no.
I'm not having this!

In front of
a new colleague, too.

There's no question of
George having been murdered

by a member of my company.

The whole thing is obviously

some kind of ghastly mistake.

No, you're wrong.

One of us is a murderer.

And you feel that,
too, don't you?

Well, my dear,

it's hardly for me
to say, is it?

Stop it, stop it!

Cosgood: bill!

Stop talking about it!

I can't stand it any longer!

You know, don't you?
You know it was me!

You and your insinuations
and your stupid sarcasm!

What do you mean?
What are you talking about?

Well, I'm going to finish you!

I'm going to close your
big mouth once and for all!

Bill!

Let go of me!
Let me go!

[Laughing]

Well, that had you
going a bit, didn't it?

Well, I--

you know what your trouble is?

You can dish out the jokes,

but you can't
take them, can you?

Well, I think that was
all in very bad taste.

Yes. So do I.

I'm sorry, luv.

I didn't mean to
upset anybody but him.

Well, you've upset me.

Oh, for heaven's sake,

I've had enough of this.

I'm going to bed.

I'm feeling a bit tired
myself, Mr. Cosgood.

If I might be shown my room.

Hmm? Oh, certainly.
Certainly, dear lady.

It's been a trying day.

Very trying, indeed.
Florie? Florie!

So glad to be one
of you. Good night.

All: good night.

Mrs. Harris
will show you up.

Come on, then.

Number 10, upstairs.

Thank you, Mr. Cosgood.
Good night.

I shouldn't take too much notice

of those youngsters.

Strange lads in some ways,

but hearts in the right place.

Oh, I'm sure they are.
Well, good night.

Good night, dear lady.
You'll soon feel at home.

We're all one big
happy family here.

I hope you know what
you're doing, dear boy.

You'll find this
comfortable. He did.

He?

The deceased.
You know--Mr. Rowton.

Well, now, breakfast, 8:30,
no cooking in the rooms,

shilling in the gas
if you're cold,

bath days Sundays and Fridays.

Don't waste the light.

And no male callers upstairs.

[Creaking]

[Meow]

Oh, naughty Puddy!
What are you doing in there?

Come along.
Off you go. Shoo!

Ah!

[Sighs]

"Remember September!"

[Milk bottles clinking]

Eva?

Yes?

What are you doing?

I couldn't sleep.

Why do you suppose
that Marple woman

should want to sneak
out of the house

at this time of morning?

Mmm? Oh, how
should I know?

Perhaps she's just eccentric.

She certainly looks it.

I wonder.

Oh, darling, you're not
going all creepy, are you?

Really, you could haunt a house.

Oh, I do wish
you hadn't wakened me.

Now I'll start fretting again.

I'd put it out of
my mind, if I were you.

Oh, easier said than done.

I mean, where can one go
for a honeymoon these days?

Everywhere's so old hat.

Hey, what do you
think about Moscow?

How can you care about that
after what's happened?

Life must go on, darling...

George or no George.

You were in love
with him, weren't you?

No.

It was all over.

Was it?

Yes.

I hated him.

Don't worry, darling.

I won't tell anyone.

Good heavens,
Mr. Stringer!

What on earth are you
doing in that getup?

Oh, just training.
I thought it advisable

to get into peak condition
for any emergency.

Is there one already?

No emergency, but a very
interesting development.

Oh, do stop bobbing about
and come over here.

Remember September.

Not a date, a play...

And by my new employer,
Driffold Cosgood himself.

Oh?

Well, you do see
the significance of this?

Um...no.

Well, now, follow me, Jim.
Follow me closely.

It seems to me

that whomever Mrs. Mcginty
was blackmailing

must have had some connection

with the production
of this play in 1951...

And is with the Cosgood company.

The author himself?

Perhaps.

How did you come by it?

I found it on my pillow.

What?

It was left there deliberately.

Then he knows...
The murderer.

He's been onto you all the time!

He's just playing
cat-and-mouse with you.

Well, two can play at that game.

Miss Marple,
I'm deeply disturbed.

Don't get yourself
in a state, Jim.

I'm not in a state.
I'm cold.

Oh, dear me.

There we are.

That's better isn't it?
Tuck it well round.

Now...

Now, what organization would
be likely to keep a record

of all professional
theatrical productions?

Uh, the censorship
people, I suppose.

To be sure.

The lord Chamberlain's
office in London.

I should be obliged if
you would go there posthaste

and inquire into
the history of this play:

Where it was produced in 1951,
who was in it, and so on.

Hmm. It may have been
played in many theatres.

I hardly think so.
You see, I've read it.

Oh.

Very well, miss Marple.

I'll take the next train up.

Good.

To your task...
And I must fly.

I wish to be at
the breakfast table

when they come down.

Away, away!

Thank you,
Mrs. Harris.

I seem to be a trifle early.

No. The others
are a trifle late.

Not that I'm complaining.

If they're not down in time,
I've got 6 cats to feed.

Cosgood:
good morning, Florie.

Good morning.

Good morning, good morning.

Good morning,
Mr. Cosgood.

I trust you slept
well, dear lady?

More like a top, thank you.

Good, good.

Nothing like sleep

for knitting up
the raveled sleeve of care,

as the bard
so aptly pointed out.

What's that you find
so engrossing?

Your play, Mr. Cosgood.

What?

This is your play?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Where on earth
did you find this?

In my room last night.

Well, now, isn't
that extraordinary?

Yes.

I can only assume

poor George must have
borrowed it sometime.

Don't let me stop you
reading it.

I've finished
reading it, thank you.

Ah, well, let's see

how the good Florie
serves us today.

Oh...

How do you find it?

The kipper?

The play.

Oh, I beg your pardon.
The play.

I find it most interesting.

How very gratifying.

Has it ever been
produced, Mr. Cosgood?

Oh, no. I completed it
only quite recently.

I see.

I have high hopes
for it, though.

Those must sustain you.

They do, dear lady.
They do.

Ah, Ralph. Ahem.

Driffold, I've been up
half the night thinking.

Now I want to
ask you a question.

Oh?

Yes.

Could you believe in miss Marple

as a lady detective?

I don't know any
lady detectives.

I'm not saying you do,
but what do you think?

She's hardly typecasting.

You're quite wrong there.
You know, she's perfect.

What are you getting at?

I've had a marvelous idea.

I suggest we keep
the theatre closed

till Monday, let
the publicity build up...

Then we reopen with
out of the stew pot.

That old potboiler?

A murder mystery, dear boy.

We've got one of our own,
why not put one on?

You may have a thought here...

With miss Marple

as the honorable Penelope brown.

Yes...now I do
see what you mean.

Yes, by Jove, it's brilliant!

You're familiar with the play,

of course, dear lady.

No, I don't think so.

A classic of its kind.

I'll fetch the scripts
right away.

Ralph, call the theatre.

Tell them we're
rehearsing on-stage

for the rest of the week.

Mr. Cosgood, I really
wouldn't have thought

I was anyone's idea
of a detective.

Not anyone's, dear miss Marple,

but you're mine.

You're certainly mine.

And mine.

Cosgood: spotlight!

Get it on me...
And keep it on me.

Now, you've all read the play...

Let me put you in the mood.

The scene is a filthy
attic in Soho,

in the very heart of London's

square-mile of vice...

And worse,

a dim figure is flitting
about the stage--

that's you, bill.

You play Sidney,
working-class assistant

to the honorable Penelope brown,

amateur criminologist
extraordinaire.

That's you, miss Marple.

Sidney is looking
for something....

Searching...searching...

Searching.

A noise! A step
on the stair outside.

I, as the father,
am about to enter,

when my delinquent
son Stanley--

that's you, Arthur.

Arthur.

Sidney freezes...

Then darts to a place
of concealment.

[Gasps of astonishment]

Ooh, sorry, guv.

Testing.

You're back!

[All laughing]

All right, all right!
Don't just stand about grinning!

Just testing, indeed!

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes. I come in
with my son.

I plead with him to tell
the police all he knows

about the killing
of Rona Laplante.

He sneers at me...
Rejects me.

Then...the climax
of the scene.

I detect a movement
behind the alcove curtain.

I cross to it--

pull it aside to reveal...

Sidney--oh!

What do you want?

A phone call for miss Marple.

Well, why didn't you say so?

All right, miss Marple.

You're not wanted in this scene.

Thank you.

Right. Now, let's take it
from my entrance.

Bill, you're
concealed over here.

Arthur, you and I come in.

You're living here?
A son of mine?

Hello?

Oh, yes, Mr. Stringer.

You were right, miss Marple.

Remember September
was put on in 1951,

a tryout performance
at Pimmelston-on-Sea.

Very interesting. Particularly
as the author claims

that he's only recently
completed the work.

Oh, well, that may have
been embarrassment.

You see, the lord
Chamberlain's office

particularly remembers it

because it was
booed off the stage

halfway through the second act.

That doesn't surprise me
in the least.

The point is, was there
anyone we know in it?

I have obtained
a full cast list,

and in it occurs the name
of Margaret Mcginty.

What? Really?
Excellent!

Now, tell me,
apart from Mr. Cosgood,

who else in this company

was connected
with this production?

No one? You sure?

Yes.

All right, Jim.

I was just thinking.

Of course it's possible

that someone has since
changed his or her name.

Look, Jim,
drop the cast list in to me

at westward ho!, will you?

Thank you.

Good-bye.

Marple.

Oh, I'm sorry if I startled you.

Mr. Cosgood is asking
for you on the stage.

Thank you. I'll go.

This was in props.
Should do the job.

All right, let's try it.

Ah, there you are, dear lady.

We've just been devising
a small embellishment

to the scene where
you finally confront Ralph

with the truth about
the killing of Rona Laplante.

Oh.

Instead of
as written--

him merely
knocking over the lamp

and making good his escape--

Ralph suggests
he also attempts to kill you.

Really.

Yes.

The idea is
he knocks over the lamp,

shoots at you, and then bolts.

I see.

He misses, of course.

There's nothing like
a loud report

for keeping an audience
alive and alert.

Ahem!

You don't find
this alarming, do you?

Oh, no. Not at all.

Good.

Right. Then let's
set the scene.

Ralph, you'll be over here,
rifling the escritoire.

And the honorable Penelope

will enter through
the French windows over here.

Right. Positions, please.

Miss Marple, in now.

Ah, I thought I'd
find you here, Faber.

You!

Yes, me!

Stay where you are.

Violence will avail you nothing.

The grounds are
swarming with police.

They've got nothing on me.

Oh, yes, they have.
You see...

You see,
Mrs. Mcginty's dead!

You made a mistake,
then, didn't you?

You certainly did, dear lady.

Why, what did I do?

You said,
Mrs. Mcginty's dead.

Did I?

Yes. It's Rona
Laplante who's dead.

Oh, yes.
How silly of me.

I must have picked it up

from reading your play,
remember September.

My play? There's nobody
of that name in it.

How odd.

The name Mcginty's on my mind
for some reason or other.

I know. It was that barmaid
murdered at Milchester.

There was a trial last week.

Yes, that's it.

May I try it again, please?

Yes, yes,

only let's do it
properly this time. Hmm?

I'll do my best.

Positions, please.

All right, Ralph,
make your move.

Seen this in the evening paper?

"Police baffled
in theatre mystery."

Not that, this--

"grand charity reopening Monday.

"Driffold Cosgood
proudly presents

"the company everyone
is talking about

"in a baffling murder drama.

"First-night proceeds

in aid of the police
benevolent fund."

Well, it's a nice gesture, sir.

I can just hear
the chief constable

agreeing with it.

You got those bank
statements yet?

On your desk, sir.

All right, come on in.

Well, did anyone draw out £100

about the time of
Mrs. Mcginty's death?

Yes, sir.

Oh, who?

The dead man, sir.
George Rowton.

Why didn't you say so?

Well, I just did, sir.

Well, well, well. It was
as simple as that.

Suicide.

Oh, miss Marple, there's
a visitor for you.

Oh, thank you.

In there.
He's a male.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, inspector.

Good evening, miss Marple.

Good evening.

I called at the police station,

and they told me you were out.

I'd no idea you'd come here.

No, I don't suppose you had.

Well, your visit
is most inopportune.

You see, at rehearsal today,

I set in train
a certain stratagem

which I think will
force our murderer

to make a move tonight.

I very much doubt it,
miss Marple.

Oh?

Our murderer,
as you put it, is dead.

I beg your pardon?

Look at this.

George Rowton's bank statement,

important item underlined,

namely, a withdrawal of £100.

So that explains it.

Yes, I thought
you'd see the point.

Oh, yes, indeed,
though I must admit

the motive for
the murder of Rowton

had eluded me until now.

He wasn't murdered, miss Marple.

He killed himself.

Oh, you really think so?

Well, it's obvious.

Mrs. Mcginty
was blackmailing him.

He drew out of the bank
to pay her off,

murdered her, then left
the money behind

to incriminate the lodger.

That theory has
a familiar ring, inspector.

What?

Oh, you did suggest

something along
those lines, true.

But the point is,
the lodger's innocent.

Rowton did it, and then took

what is laughingly
called the easy way out.

Couldn't stand the strain.

The case is wrapped up.

I'm just on my way
to tell the chief constable.

I wouldn't do that
if I were you.

Why not?

Because I think you're wrong.

You do?

Yes. You see,
I now think

our murderer got the money
to pay Mrs. Mcginty

off George Rowton in a way

which made it necessary

for Rowton to be
disposed of later.

Only a woman's mind--
possibly only yours--

could have dreamt that one up.

It may irritate you, inspector,

that women sometimes
have superior minds.

You'll simply have to accept it.

Ahem.

Oh, uh, don't you need this?

Thank you. Good night,
miss Marple.

Good night, inspector.

Good evening.

Good evening.

[Rustling]

[Gasp]

[Cats meowing]

Oh, that's where you are.

They do like to sleep
somewhere up here

when they can find an empty bed.

Come on, my pretties,
your liver's nice and hot.

Dinner gong in two minutes.

Come on, babies.

[Sniffing]

Ah.

Ohh.

[Knock on door]

Come in.

Ah, miss Marple,

I was hoping to catch you
before you went down.

Were you,
Mr. Cosgood?

Yes, I thought it was time

you and I had a little chat.

[Gong]

Bill: that's it!

Overture and beginners, please!

And that means you!
Tsk, tsk, tsk.

No male friends in rooms, madam.

Don't be absurd, boy.

Well, miss Marple, perhaps
I can escort you down.

I think I'll give dinner
a miss tonight, Mr. Cosgood.

I'm feeling a trifle queasy.

Nothing incapacitating, I trust.

Oh, no. A good
night's rest.

Well, um, I'll leave you, then.

Thank you.

Take care, dear lady.

We mustn't be without
you Monday, must we?

Come on.

[Door closes]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

Oh, my dear, I was just...

[Thunder]

[Sniffing]

Bitter almonds.

Cyanide!

Ohh!

This is tragic,
absolutely tragic.

When the press get onto this,

we could open in two theaters

and still be turning them away.

Now we're stuck without someone

to play the housekeeper.

Well, you can't have it
both ways, can you?

We must! We owe it
to Dorothy.

Eva! No, you're
already doubling

the good-time girl
and the vicar's daughter.

Sheila! Would you play
the housekeeper, dear,

if I got you a wig?

Oh, Driffy, you make me sick.

You don't care a hoot
about poor old Dorothy.

All you care about
is your silly old play

and your stupid old self,

and, no, I won't
play the housekeeper.

All right, miss Marple,
cyanide gas.

But how?

I think I can explain that.

No doubt.

I take it from
your tone, inspector,

that you did not
have second thoughts

about seeing the chief
constable yesterday.

If you can explain,
miss Marple, please do so.

Very well.

Now!

So what?
My wife has one.

But presumably she
doesn't cook candle wax.

No, she doesn't.

There is a little

at the bottom of that saucepan.

Now, this is what happened.

The murderer set the dials

so that the gas came
on at 12:55 precisely

under this saucepan

that contained a small
wax cup of acid

and a pellet of sodium cyanide.

The wax melted,

the acid flowed over the pellet.

Result--sudden release
of cyanide gas.

Lethal.

I see.

And at 1:00
precisely

the gas turned itself off.

Now.

Leaving nothing

but an innocent
saucepan on the hob.

Yes, good work.

That means whoever
we're looking for

must have specialist knowledge.

Oh, no.

Exactly the same murder method

as employed in the play
we open with on Monday--

out of the Stewpot.

So any one of the company
could have done it.

Right.

The way things are now,
I am tempted--sorely tempted--

to arrest the whole lot.

Really?

Yes, really.

What you found out--
what we found out--

look at what we've got.

Cosgood--he told you
he'd only just written

this confounded
remember September,

and yet we know it
was produced in 1951.

And victim number one,
Mrs. Mcginty, was in it.

And this fellow summers--

we know he took
Mr. Mcginty out

at least a couple of times

the week the company
was in Milchester,

the week she was murdered.

And his wife Maureen--
she knew about this.

She didn't like it.

Then there's
the spooky girl Eva.

We've been able to establish

that she was having a romance

with victim number two
George Rowton

and that he'd tossed
her aside like a...

Worn-out glove, sir?

Yes. And then there's
young Arthur.

That note you found in your room

was typed on his typewriter,

and as a result
of the assignation,

victim number 3.

There is a point here.

In 1951, the younger
members of the company

would have been mere children.

Yes.

Yes, by George,

if that performance
of remember September

in 1951--13 years ago--
started this whole thing,

then none of
those youngsters--

Eva, bill,
Sheila, Arthur--

could have had
anything to do with it.

No. It seems so.

I mean, anyone could have
gone into Arthur's room

and used the typewriter.
I did myself.

[Knock on door]

He's here, sir.

What?

He's here, sir.

Oh, yes. Would you
wait here a moment,

please, miss Marple?

Wait?

Please. Sergeant.

Wonder why the iron was hot.

[Door opens]

What are you doing here?

Well, you asked me

to drop in the cast list
when I was passing.

You know, remember September.

And you were passing
at 2:30 in the morning?

Come now.

Well, as a matter of fact,

the inspector was kind
enough to send a car.

He thought I might succeed
where he had failed

to persuade you--

to desert my post perhaps?

This is a dangerous place.

These are dangerous people.

Only one of them.

Miss Marple, the time
has come for plain speak.

Please, Jim, I'm thinking.

It's here that the answer lies.

"Driffold Cosgood,
Ralph summers,

Margaret Mcginty,
Rose Kane..."

Rose...

Rose...

Mr. Stringer.

We have here in addition
to Margaret Mcginty

an actress called Rose Kane.

Sorry. I am afraid
I don't understand.

Don't you see? Rose!

"A Rose by any other
name would smell."

The blackmail note!

Oh!

Mr. Stringer, tomorrow
I must do some digging.

Digging?

Yes. Into the past.

You mean this Rose Kane?

Yes.

You seem to remember
her well, Mr. Tumbrill.

What is your interest in her?

Oh, I simply want to trace her.

You see, I've been
outside the profession

for a number of years now,
and so the only way--

well, if you're
an old friend of hers,

I'm afraid you're in
for a bit of a shock.

Oh?

Poor Rosie was hanged, you know.

What?

Yes. Terrible business.

Terrible business.

Oh, uh, will you?

Not so soon after
breakfast, thank you.

You were saying?

Oh, yes, terrible.
I shall never forget it.

She opened in this play
summer in the sticks.

A unique floparoo, by the way.

Didn't even run the night.

Anyhow, the same night,
believe it or not,

she poisoned her husband.

Did she indeed?

Yes, she did.

She sent her kid out

to buy half a pound
of garlic sausage

and then doctored it
with weed killer.

There was a child?

Mmm. Must have been
10 or 11 at the time.

Boy or girl?

Never saw the kid myself.

Can't even remember its name.

Anyway I did hear that
some friend took it in

for a bit afterwards, then
popped it into an orphanage.

That friend--was
her name Mcginty?

Yes, that's right.
Maggie Mcginty.

Blonde, flighty piece.

Why ever did Rose
do it, Mr. Tumbrill?

Usual thing--
another man.

And who was he?

He never came forward,
and she never named him.

Then it could be
the lover or the child.

Eh?

Oh, I wonder if I might have

this photograph,
Mr. Tumbrill,

as a keepsake.

Oh, by all means.
Yes, by all means.

One of mine that got
away, you might say.

Well, I won't take up
any more of your time.

Allow me.

Evelyn!

I beg your pardon?

Rose's kid. Evelyn.
That was the name.

Evelyn.

Nothing like champagne
for a champagne occasion.

Uncommonly civil
of you, dear lady.

What about a toast, dear boy?

Something appropriate?

Of course, of course.

To success! To
us, all of us.

And particularly to our hostess.

Long life, dear lady.

Hear, hear.

Oh, Mr. Cosgood,
such lovely flowers.

[Glass breaks]

Who's that?

Huh?

Oh, she was an actress
called Rose Kane.

Why do you ask?

I don't know.

But somehow she--
she means death.

Something to do with George.

5 minutes, boys and girls.

Come on, come on.
The party's over.

Now, remember,
all you have to do

is speak your lines clearly,

try not to trip
over the furniture,

and we'll run longer
than the mousetrap.

See you on stage, dear lady.

Oh, and don't forget--

it's Rona Laplante who's dead.

Well, Driffold,
tonight's the night.

It most certainly is.
Got the gun?

Yes.

What do you suppose she wants
to see us about, sir?

I don't know, sergeant,
but she's up to something.

[Knocking on door]

Come in.

Well, miss Marple.

Good evening, inspector.

I think there's something
you should know

before you go in
to see the play.

Oh? What?

I think our murderer

will try to kill me
again tonight.

Again?

The first attempt failed.

Poor Dorothy perished instead.

What are you talking about?

The iron was hot,
you see. I burnt my hand.

No, I don't see.

When I went into Dorothy's
room earlier that night,

there was washing on the line.

Well?

I think she did
her ironing later

and forgot to switch off.

Then in the middle of the night,

she woke and remembered

and went down to
the kitchen to do so.

And walked into a trap
meant for you, you mean.

Quite.

That note was left
outside my door deliberately...

To lure me down.

Right, sergeant.

We are going to stay right here,

and we're not going
to let miss Marple

out of our sight for one second!

Oh, you mustn't
do that, inspector.

We must put no obstacle
in the way.

You can't be serious.

Never more so.

You see, our murderer
set a trap for me.

I have just returned
the compliment.

[Knock on door]

Miss Marple,
I brought the--

let me have it,
Mr. Stringer.

Thank you.

Wait a minute. What's
going on? What's that?

Life insurance, inspector.

Life insurance.

Man: beginners onstage, please!
Beginners onstage!

Will you please
excuse me, gentlemen?

[Audience murmuring]

Arthur, offstage:
Father, we've been

all through that before.

You know that I have
committed myself

to this way of life,
and I won't give it up.

You're living here?
A son of mine?

I live where I choose.

Come in, Eva.

Now, don't scream.

Don't even speak...

'Cause I'm taking you somewhere

where we won't be interrupted.

And if you do anything,
I'll kill you.

Now, open that door.

Driffold, onstage:
Couple of years in jail.

What's that? Why, it might be
the making of you.

You may think the police
are fools, Stanley.

Perhaps some of them are,
but not all, son. Not all.

Right here.

Now, if anyone tries
to come through here,

I want to know who it is
and what he wants.

Got that?

Very good, sir.

Hey, what's all this about?

Oh, miss Marple,
I've covered every...

Sergeant!

Sheila, have you seen Ralph?

No.

Where is she?

She hasn't left
her dressing room.

She has, you know,
you blithering idiot.

We've got to find her.
You take the other side.

Look, dad, can't we
cut this short?

I'm expecting a visitor...

[Audience snickering]

In a few moments.

[Audience laughing]

One of your--one of your
worthless friends, no doubt.

It's the girl
I'm going to marry,

if you must know.

Look at me, son.

Look at me!

[Whispering] what's
the matter with you?

I want you to know why
you're going to die.

I want to know that, too.

You killed him.

I don't know why,
but you killed him.

By him you mean
George Rowton, don't you?

Yes.

You were in love with him.

Yes, I loved him,
and you killed him!

Oh, no. You're
mistaken, my dear.

He was killed by someone
called Evelyn Kane.

I don't believe you.

I know it was you.

I thought it was you
from the beginning.

You can't do it, Eva!

You're no more capable
of murder than I am.

[Man laughing]

Ohh!

[Man laughing]

Aah! Ohh!

You were quite right.
She couldn't have done it.

A pity. I thought she might
have saved me the trouble.

Aren't you supposed
to be on the stage?

Oh, but I am, miss Marple,

and what's more, hundreds
of people will swear I am...

Hiding behind the curtain.

It was very simple, really.

You remember when
that idiot Cosgood

dropped through the trap?

Well, I've done the same.

In exactly 3 minutes, I shall
be back on stage on cue.

But you, I'm sorry to say,
will not be answering yours.

You're Evelyn Kane, aren't you?

Rose Kane's son.

Oh, yes. Evelyn.
What a name.

I soon changed that.

Yes, the Mcginty woman
found that out, didn't she?

When you were playing
in Milchester.

She recognized you,

and as you were
marrying an heiress,

she saw an opportunity
for blackmail.

She threatened to tell
Sheila's father

unless I paid her to keep quiet.

So I kept her quiet.

Where could I find
the money she wanted?

George Rowton.

She wanted £100, so I forged
George's name on a check.

Well, I couldn't let him
find that out, now, could I?

So they both had
to die, didn't they?

Poor old Dorothy.

That was meant for you,
of course.

Well, I had meant
to wring your neck,

but Eva's been very obliging.

Her fingerprints are on that...

And I'm on the stage.

Wait!

I took the Liberty

of borrowing this
from Mr. Summers.

You don't think you can fool me

with a prop gun
filled with blanks.

Oh, no, not blanks.

A friend of mine
procured me some insurance.

I'll risk it.

I should warn you.

I won the ladies'
small arms championship

at Bisley in 1924.

Bully for you.

[Gunshot]

Oh, dear.

Shh! I thought
I heard something.

Come out of there!

Bill, you stupid...Aah!

Inspector.

[Crash]

[Audience laughing]

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

With a bit of rest
and some luck,

the doctor thinks
I should be out of here

in a few days.

Oh, splendid.
I'm thankful the blow

caused no permanent damage.

And now if you'll excuse me.

Thank you very much,
miss Marple.

Oh, miss Marple,
there is one thing.

I thought you might like to know

that as a result of
my work on this case,

I'm to be promoted.

Chief inspector.

Oh, I'm so glad.
Congratulations.

Yes. Well, thank you,
miss Marple.

Not at all, inspector--
chief inspector.

Well, au revoir.

Forgive me if I fail
to rise, dear lady.

I quite understand,
Mr. Cosgood.

I brought you some magazines

to help while away the time.

Ah, yes.
Time, time.

I've been lying here

contemplating
a bleak future unless...

Unless?

Well, I wondered if
you'd given any thought

to my play remember September.

It has been rather on my mind.

Dear lady, I have
a small confession to make.

It was I who left
the script in your room.

Really?

Yes. I'd hoped it might make
some impression upon you.

It did.

Good.

You see, it seems to me

that with one or two minor
alterations in the second act,

I have here a very
valuable property.

I'm so happy for you,
Mr. Cosgood.

There is however one
tiny, weeny little snag.

Oh?

Yes. It's sordid,
of course,

when dealing with the arts,

but a play whatever its merits

requires a backer.

Mr. Cosgood, whatever
I may or may not be,

I am definitely no angel.

Good-bye.

And good luck.