Original subtitles

Out. What do you mean, out?

I signed the release paper last night.

- Ape! - What?!

This is wonderful. Wonderful.

Well, we know Luther.

And his surprises...

I think we've met, in Munich in the summer.

I was with the Japanese delegation.

My husband was with the Japanese delegation.

Duchess Alberta.

Sadly, I was unable to attend.

Oh my dear, what a sight you missed.

All those glistening athletic bodies.

These beautiful Aryan boys.

Indeed.

Olympic ideal at its purest.

Yes. That too.

Woo! woo! Yeah! Comon.

Oh, for goodness sake.

Oh, well, I'm sorry.

I think you may be drunk here Windjammer.

I'm smashed permanently, isn't everyone.

Oh, my wife doesn't look in the mood

for goodwill to all men.

Heil Hitler...

Meine Damen und Herren.

I bid you welcome to my, erm, little home.

On this night the Von Bode's

have gathered to celebrate the Feast

of Saint Nicholas

for the benefit of our guests from overseas,

this is a particularly German tradition.

Saint Nicholas brings presents

to the good children

and the wicked children are visited by...

well we have all that to look forward to.

But this year is a particularly special occasion.

If you know your Bible, you will be aware

of the parable of the Prodigal Son.

Meine damen und herren.

It is time...

Entschuldigen Sie bitte...

Oh, excuse me boys. Thank you.

Es tut mir leid...

One pretzel. Possibly pre-war.

Ey?!

All the buffet had to offer.

Though buffet is being charitable

and the promise of coffee was more like a threat.

One of the more insignificant effects

of losing a World War, I suppose.

A decline in the quality of on board vittels.

How about a bacon sarnie?

Oh, if only.

Trottie thought ahead.

Mrs Book, Mrs Book,

what would we do without you?

You know I never thought I'd leave England.

Never mind all this.

- Thank you. - Don't mention it.

But we're not on holiday. My boy.

- Remember? - No, no, of course not.

- Ready? - Again?

We need to get our stories straight

or they won't give us the time of day.

Renowned antiquarian bookseller,

Sebastian Melmoth.

- Hello. - Is heading to Germany

with his blindingly handsome, trusted assistant,

Mr Jack Blunt.

Here comes I don't get a secret identity.

Well you don't need one do you? Luther Von Bode knows my name.

He doesn't know yours.

Nor that you happen to be his grandson.

- Go on... - Luther is wanting to sell

a second folio of Shakespeare,

which is our way to gain his confidence.

But he mustn't know who you are.

Exactly. I will blend in,

wear a funny hat, hide behind the Arras.

That sort of thing.

Giving us time to find out.

- Discreetly. - Discreetly, what happened

to my father on December 5th, 1936.

We need to speak to a doctor, Kaufmann.

Because he was the one

who returned your letters to Felix.

He's also the one that told you

that my father had died in a sanatorium

of a brain tumor.

- Yes. - On the same day

that Felix was photographed at the Christmas party.

Someone is lying.

Maybe a lot of people are lying.

And in addition?

In addition, the Duchess Alberta.

Our noblesse obligation.

The Shakespeare folio incriminates her,

opens up all sorts of questions

as to what else she might have liberated

from the royal vaults.

But we take it slowly and carefully.

When and if Luther trusts us, only then

do we reveal who you really are.

- Understood? - Understood?

What about this place itself? What's it called again? Whirl?

Würl.

Did my old man ever say much about that?

Oh, yes.

And the way Felix described it.

It's like something out of a fairy tale.

Well he weren't wrong.

- What is it? - Oh, nothing.

I was expecting us to be met at the bottom of the hill.

That's all. Oh, well.

What the hell's going on?

More than a whiff of Nuremberg.

I suppose Christmas is Christmas.

Even if there has been a war on.

Er, Melmoth? Duttweiler.

I'm sorry for my lateness.

Don't give it another thought.

- Please... - Danke schön.

- Nervous? - Nah.

Me too.

Just like the old times huh?

Oh, God. How depressing.

Maybe Hitler had the right idea.

I wouldn't say that too loud if I was you.

I mean, blowing his brains out.

About all we're fit for now.

Oh, I mean, look at us.

What a sad spectacle.

What do you think Guy?

What say we put down the whole pack of us.

Humanely. Of course.

Just say the word, honey.

I promise it won't hurt... much.

- You say the sweetest things. - Nonsense.

You're talking nonsense, my dear Alberta.

But it is the feast of Saint Nicholas.

And we celebrate just as we used to.

We are still here.

We have survived.

Most of us.

And I have gathered those dearest to me

back to my tender bosom.

But where is Irma.

And the head doctor? Yes.

Where is Kaufmann?

I must apologise for not meeting you in person.

But I am a very busy man.

Luther von Bode.

Sebastian Melmoth. Pleasure.

My assistant. Mr Blunt.

I trust our business

can be swiftly concluded Herr Melmoth.

- Wouldn't that be nice? - Come.

Gently does it, Jack. Remember? Gently.

Yeah. Yeah.

You don't have to worry about me.

Exquisite. Exquisite.

Second Folio in Dark Calf.

Printed 1632. Exceptionally rare.

And yet you want to sell.

The war, I suppose,

this place can't exactly be cheap to maintain.

Yeah. It's true.

Many aristocratic families have lost much.

Fortunately, the Von Bode's are not among them.

You will find me a wily old negotiator here, Melmoth.

Now I am the last of my line.

Well, this all seems very promising,

but you are asking a great deal of money.

Might I have some time?

Of course, of course.

You are my honoured guests.

My honoured British guests.

After all, we are all friends now.

You must be tired.

Please, let us discuss this matter further in the morning.

You have a favourite?

- Favourite, Sir? - Of the plays?

Of Shakespeare's plays?

As Herr Melmoth's assistant

you must surely be very familiar.

Oh, Jack has too many to mention,

- don't you, Jack? - Yeah.

I mean all the obvious ones.

The Day in the Fane.

The Moor, though, Love's Labour's Lost,

should never be performed again.

And as for Dogberry in 'Much Ado'.

Merchant of Venice.

Hmm.

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It drop us like gentle rain.

From heaven, upon the place beneath.

You have a favourite Shakespeare?

Heir Von Bode?

Titus Andronicus.

Well, as you say, it's been a very long day.

You're not the last in line.

What?

The Von Bode's. You're not the last one.

- There's me. - What?

- I'm your grandson. - Jack!

- What did you say? - I'm your grandson.

I'm Felix's son.

- I do not understand. - It's true.

Heir Von Bode...

Who are you?

Um, I'm Jack Blunt. Um.

I'm, uh, I was. I was in an orphanage.

That's my first memory

and I had a photograph of my father.

It was this one.

Uh, I had this and a name and that was it.

This is incredible.

Look, it's all here. All the documents.

We were going to take you through it,

in the fullness of time.

It's the truth.

It's all there.

I'm telling the truth, honestly.

I'm your grandson. I'm Felix's son.

And who then, Sir, are you?

Just a bookseller. As I say.

I came across your name, Herr Von Bode.

Found out you were in the market to sell the Shakespeare Folio.

It seemed too good a chance for Jack here to miss.

We had no intention to deceive. Truly.

Jack is only here to find some answers.

You will understand that this

has come as something of a shock.

Yeah. No. Of course.

Hmm. There is a resemblance.

Certainly a resemblance.

I will study these.

My people will study these in great detail.

- If this is true... - It is.

I swear.

I'm so sorry, Mr Book.

It was just when.

When he said that he was the last one.

I, I couldn't keep it in.

He's my grandfather,

my blood relative.

He's the only one that I've ever...

It's not the end of the world.

We were going to tell him eventually.

The quality of mercy is not strained.

You're full of surprises.

Yeah, I've been boning up ain't I.

So, what do you make of the whole family pile?

It's cosy, innit?

Still.

As they are want to say on the Yellow Brick Road,

there's no place like home...

Good evening.

Oh.

Oh, this is beautiful.

[startled] You're early.

Do you want me to wait?

No, no, no. It's, uh.

Well, I just have to be careful, that's all. Reggie.

Any respectable married woman.

Well, that's exactly what I am.

Or what I have to appear to be.

I have such a passion

for seducing respectable married women.

Is that all this is?

A seduction?

You know me better than that by now, Trottie.

And so, it's a whole week to ourselves.

Nora is looking after the bookshop

that should occupy her completely,

which only leaves Dog,

and he's very discreet.

Oh, come on,

you've sniffed every bloomin' thing we've passed.

Bloody hell.

Jesus, Luther. You're just going to take

- this kid at face value. - Of course not.

I'm not a complete fool Guy.

But if he is who he says he is,

my lawyers will look over the papers.

- We will see. - Oh, this is delicious.

It's nuts. Nuts. Luther, you can't just accept--

Ten years ago, I lost my only son.

- And now... - ...your grandson

has come to take his place.

He obviously just wants money.

No. Listen, I don't want anything like that.

I just want answers, about my father.

See who that is?

Sir.

My son was not well.

He behaved so strangely

that we had to put him away for a while.

- Sanatorium. - And then?

And there he died.

The tumour on the brain.

That was what was causing it.

Causing it all.

God rest his soul.

What's your role in all of this?

Mr Melmoth, chaperone to the little bastard?

Just an interested party.

I'm a bookseller, actually. A specialist.

Oh, I'm a collector, too.

So I gather your grace.

I'm aware that circumstances

have changed here Von Bode.

But the Shakespeare folio...

Oh, it's still for sale. Yes, very much so.

Excellent.

And your library?

Full of treasures.

Very tempting. May I.

If you wish.

It's rather thrillingly

like Anastasia all of this, isn't it?

- Who? - Romanoff Princess.

She was meant to have escaped

the Bolsheviks firing squad in 1918.

Tipped up in Berlin in the 20s.

Of course almost certainly

a horrible imposter.

I was related to her.

I mean, the real Anastasia.

Distantly.

Yes. My husband is very keen on reminding me

just how distant relation to the king I am.

Aren't you, darling?

Well, it'll be nice to have some more

erudite company this weekend

as I'm not sure that half of them here can actually read.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Guten abend meine damen und herren!

My name is Inspector Ernest Bliss.

Mein Name ist Inspektor Ernest Bliss!

And I'm afraid there's been a murder.

Ich fürchte, es hat einen Mord gegeben...

Didn't expect we'll be seeing you for a while yet.

Can't keep you away from trouble,

can you, Inspector.

Well, this was hardly part of the plan.

Good to see you anyway.

Yeah, and you.

Not everything's worked out.

This has rather complicated matters though, hasn't it?

A little. Plus, the dead man

was the one who sent me official confirmation

that Felix was dead.

Hmm, you think, you think there's a connection?

I'm not sure yet.

It was horrible. Horrible. His face.

There, there.

You must get some rest. Let's get you to bed.

Help yourself to anything

you find in my cabinet, darling.

I have everything.

But keep off the hard stuff.

She hasn't developed your tolerance, honey.

No, no. I have my own.

Poor old Kaufmann, eh?

Indeed.

Although I don't suppose you'll be shedding

many tears, will you?

What is that supposed to mean?

So what now?

I want you to stay here, Jack.

Find out everything you can about the night that Felix died.

Discreetly this time.

Yeah. Don't worry.

Scene of the crime.

Scene of the crime.

We haven't been properly introduced, Gabriel Book.

- Liesl Pohl. - Delighted.

I have heard so much about you.

All bad I hope.

Pol used to work with the police here.

Been cleared by all the security checks.

So she's a good one, a good German.

- Sorry. - No, it is worth saying.

I hated the Nazis.

Which is more than can be said for most of the people

staying in Schloss Von Bode currently.

Speaking of which, we'd best hurry.

There's only so long I can nip outside for a quick smoke.

We can get you back in the same way we left.

- The servants entrance? - Yeah.

- It is never locked. - Excellent.

So what do we know about the late Doctor Kaufmann?

Widower. No children.

And he has been personal physician

to Luther von Bode for 30 years.

Has he now?

Pathology report of a sort.

- No, Doctor Calder alas. - Alas.

No sign of forced entry and no prints anywhere.

What else do we know about him?

Associates. Enemies. Drink. Debt. Women.

He was not well liked.

Clearly someone really didn't like him.

Choked with coal and covered with soot.

It's a new one on me.

Book. What is it?

It's just a notion.

Go on...

Have you ever heard of Knecht Ruprecht?

Of course.

Perhaps it is not well known in England.

No. It's all different here. Yeah.

Very different. Wh-wha--

Knecht Ruprecht is a legendary creature.

There's even a tune by Schumann.

Ruprecht accompanies Saint Nicholas

on his rounds and doles out things

to naughty children, including lumps of coal.

Oh I see, so you think someone's trying to make a point?

Kaufmann was being punished?

It is possible.

Knecht Ruprecht hits wicked children

with a bag of ashes.

Drowns them or stuffs them in a sack

and carries them to hell.

Oh, blimey. Merry Christmas!

[echoes hazily] No, no. You are not real.

You are not real. No. No!

Get away from me! Get away from me!

Get away from me! Noooo, no!

No.

That's the official story.

The one Luther told you.

After all the day guests had left

he admitted that Felix was here the night of the party.

He said he was behaving strange.

Erratic. You know, because of the tumour.

What do the others say?

That Felix seemed perfectly fine

when they talked to him.

And that he did go back to the sanatorium

and died there.

The disparity, then between Luther's account

and that of the other guests.

If only we could have spoken to Kaufmann.

Yeah but he's dead.

Ah!

White and snowy. Lies the land.

Here comes Saint Nicholas, staff in hand.

Who's that with him? Face like a fright.

Knecht Ruprecht. Ruprecht. Tuck up tight.

What's that?

Local ditty

about Santa's not so little helper.

Knecht Ruprecht comes to poke

and peer at all the little children

who've been bad this year.

Too late now to go to church with coal,

then sack, then switch of birch.

Ruprecht will be the one to tell,

who goes to heaven and who to hell.

The question is, who would want to kill Kaufmann?

They were all pretty tight lipped.

There was one thing that I did pick up on?

Yes?

Doctor Kaufmann and the big fella,

Duttweiler, they didn't get on, feud goes way back.

Ah now, that's very revealing.

Is it?

I found a photograph in Kaufmann's office.

He and Duttweiler were in the same regiment

during the Great War.

Duttweiler of a higher rank.

Judging by his uniform. Kaufmann a mere private.

I see. I mean, it can't have been easy,

going back to bowing and scraping

to a bloke that used to give orders to.

Festering resentment.

My favourite motive.

So Duttweiler has got to be in the frame for it?

He was in the village. He was late picking us up.

He could have done in Doctor Kaufmann.

If so...

What?

Why don't you see?

The butler did it.

Herr Von Bode. Kommen Sie schnell.

Im stall hangt etwas.

What is it? What's happened?

Jesus.

Coal then sack.

So much for the butler.

Dog?

Nora?

Ugh.

Have you been here all night?

- What time is it? - It's 8:30.

Your uncle will be frantic.

He won't mind.

He knows I'm here all day.

Yes, but not all night.

It doesn't even open on a Sunday.

Yes, I know that.

Is everything all right Nora?

Nora?

Oh, damn.

Thought you weren't expecting me to sleep here.

Huh?

You've got two cops out.

You must be psychic, Mrs B.

Force of habit, I suppose, from me and Book.

Right. Yeah.

Course.

Uhm...

Two sugars in mine,

if you can spare that from your ration.

Mm.

Barbiturate overdose.

Injected in the neck.

And something else. Cologne.

Lots of it. Which he hadn't been wearing

earlier in the evening.

Must have taken a bit of strength

to get a big bugger like him into the sack.

Hoist him up into the eaves.

Maybe.

Well, anyway, I've asked everyone

staying in the castle just to stay put.

It's got to be one of them, hasn't it?

Right. Plan of action.

Well, it can't exactly be business as usual, can it?

As far as they're all concerned...

You're just a bookseller. So you'll. You'll be discreet.

Keep out the way.

Yes, absolutely.

You won't know I'm here.

Do you believe me?

Do you believe I am who I say I am?

Luther is hardly sentimental.

If you are a fraud, he will discover it.

And then, I would not like to be in your shoes.

Look, I asked everyone last night

what happened to Felix

all those years ago at the party?

I mean, Luther said he collapsed. But...

Luther is a liar.

The story they told about Felix's end.

It is not. It cannot be true.

Will you tell me what really happened?

If I think I can trust you. Perhaps.

We just.

I, just want to know the truth.

[laughs] The truth?

The truth is a stranger to these walls.

You said you grew up here.

So are you...

Are we, like cousins or?

I am not a Von Bode.

Luther took me in after,

after my father died.

And were you close?

You and Felix.

I adored him.

Oh, not in that way.

He was like an older brother to me.

We confide in each other. We told each other everything.

And so, I know who it was he truly loved.

I read everyone's statements,

their movements on the day Kaufmann was killed.

And last night when Duttweiler died.

Well, we're each other's alibis, Inspector.

I'm sorry if that doesn't help.

You were in Bermuda, weren't you?

For the duration of the war?

Sorry. Don't mind me.

We were!

Keeping the British end up.

We could hardly pop over here to Germany, could we?

We wouldn't have done at all. But now that's all over.

Back to the good old days.

Hardly. This bloody country's a wreck.

But Luther asked, and so here we are again.

Luther's always been a very generous host.

Doctor Kauffmann, an old friend?

We had been through much together.

- And Duttweiler? - His family

have been servants here for generations.

The Von Bode blood is in these stones.

We are aristocrats, an unbroken chain

of authority, of dignity, of power.

Not looking too powerful now though are you?

Flogging the family silver or the Shakespeare folio?

Just to survive. Sorry. Not here. Ignore me.

Fascinating stuff.

Not sure Irma was very keen

on either of them, actually.

Kaufmann and Duttweiler I mean,

she rather thought they looked down on her.

Looked down on her?

Well Luther took her in,

after her father's suicide.

He made her his ward.

She grew up in the castle.

Everyone knew that she was reliant

on Luther's charity.

Irma's father killed himself?

Sorry. Me again.

It's no secret that my father

lost everything in the crash.

The stock market. I had nothing.

Luther took me in.

Eventually I got away to Berlin. But then the war.

And what about your relationship

- with the dead men? - Purely professional.

Doctor Kaufmann provided me with the drugs I take.

- For sleeping yes? - Yes.

Secobarbital, I believe.

According to the doctor's notes.

A barbiturate.

It's the Japanese woman.

You really should be grilling, though.

- Oh? - Oh, yes.

Because of what Kaufmann did to Mr Yamauchi.

What became of your husband?

The war, I suppose.

No, not the war.

He died of peritonitis.

In Japan?

No. Here.

What here?!

Symptoms were ignored.

By the time he realised it was too late.

These symptoms were ignored

by Doctor Kaufmann?

Well. Luther's rattled.

You see his face?

Well, his butler and his friend

the doctor, have both just been killed

by a grotesque and rather baroque means.

What do you describe yourself

as Luther's friend? Your grace?

Luther doesn't have friends.

Just people who can be useful to him for a while.

I mean, we're more than acquaintances, of course.

I've helped him buy and sell a few things.

Keep the coffers full.

You become something of a fixture here,

I understand. Since the end of the war.

Luther has been very kind.

You must have got to know the servants rather well.

Poor Duttweiler.

It is shocking.

Was Duttweiler, by any chance

an habitual wearer of heavy scent?

Scent?

Eau de Cologne, du Coq?

Not to my knowledge.

You say you were in the castle

the whole time on the day Kaufmann was killed.

What about last night?

I have no alibi.

I sleep alone, of course.

Ah, yes. So many have been widowed.

I mean, it must be very lonely for you.

Well one learns to be stoical.

Herr Von Bode has provided you

with much comfort, I'm sure.

How well did you both know the deceased men?

Well, we met them both,

obviously, over the years.

Ghastly both of them.

Kaufmann was so quiet.

Rather gave one the creeps. Duttweiler.

Frankenstein I used to call him.

Great lumbering brute.

- 's monster. - Sorry?

Frankenstein's monster.

He was the great lumbering brute.

Monster, not Frankenstein. Sorry.

Ignore me.

So not a fan of either, then?

No, but finding people tedious

at parties is a tenuous motive for murder,

don't you think, Inspector?

Half of Belgravia would be in the dock.

I've been thinking, Mr Melmoth.

Melmoth. It's a book, isn't it?

Melmoth the Wanderer.

A gothic classic.

Like me.

Funny.

Wasn't that the name that Oscar Wilde used in exile?

Sebastian Melmoth.

Was it really?

Can you think of a stronger motive?

Why anyone would want to kill these men.

Got to be a nut, I guess.

- Or. - Or.

Well, we've all heard the rumours

about this nasty Santa Claus thing.

What is it? Knicky... Knacky...?

Knecht Ruprecht.

Yes. That's the chap.

- Whose theory is this? - Mine, I'm afraid.

Oh, indeed. And so the deaths

of respectable German citizens

are now to be investigated by English amateurs...

and Jews.

Mr... Mr... Book, Mr... Melman,

Mr Melmoth is an acquaintance from London.

He's very welcome to help in any way he can.

As if it were not bad enough

that they were slaughtered.

But this humiliation

punished like naughty children. It is obscene.

Find out who did this and do so quickly.

I'll do my best.

But you might do well to remember Mr Von Bode,

who won the bloody war.

Well, you have quite a nerve.

I beg your Pardon?

Coming here into my home, Mr Book.

I wrote to Felix, waited for a reply.

Waited and waited.

Felix never saw your damned letters.

He was in the sanatorium by then.

With this so-called tumour.

Describe it how you would. It was a kind of sickness,

a disease.

Disease?

He was afflicted with a perversion

that made me ashamed to call him my own blood.

Oh, of course.

My only heir.

The heir to the Von Bode line.

Decedent. Corrupted. Corrupted by you.

So you locked him away?

Kaufmann thought he might respond to treatment

but I should simply have put Felix down,

like a sick animal.

Is that what you did?

Because there was no tumour, was there, Luther?

No matter what lie you've been telling yourself.

You turn up here with that boy,

under false pretences, using a false name.

And then he claims to be my own flesh and blood.

Quite the coincidence.

Or something more

a conspiracy.

Yeah.

A conspiracy that ends with the deaths

of Kaufmann and Duttweiler.

What really happened that night Luther?

What the hell did you do to Felix?

You came here to buy the Second Folio.

I regret to inform you that it is no longer for sale.

I believe our business here is concluded.

Well...

Buggered that up ain't we?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

- No? - No, no, no, I...

I don't drink anymore.

You don't drink anymore?

I don't drink any less.

Oh my goodness. You all right?

It got rather heated, I'm afraid.

I thought he was going to strike me.

And how's Jack taking it all?

Must be a little overwhelming.

It's quite the stoic effect.

Impressive boy. His father's boy.

You will be careful, won't you?

I'm always careful, Trottie.

Not always.

Everything all right back there?

Yes. Yes. Of course.

Bedroom ceiling?

Good as new.

Trottie?!

You be careful too. My love.

I'd better go.

Walls have ears in this place.

I'll speak to you when I can.

- Bye Book. - Bye.

There you go. I think you deserve this.

Thanks.

I know how tough

this must all be for you Book, so...

I'm fine. We'll be fine.

Time to regroup. What are we looking at?

Well, motives are plenty.

Madame Yamauchi blames Kaufmann for the death of her husband.

And we know there was bad blood

between Kaufmann and Duttweiler.

And then he got topped himself.

Killed by an overdose of the same barbiturates

that Irma Queisser uses to get to sleep.

And who can say what our Royal Highness

and the yank might be hiding?

Apart from what we already know.

- Then there's this. - Oh, what is it?

Finally found something in the doctors accounts.

Luther was paying

for two patients at the sanatorium.

Two?!

Jacks father and another one,

an earlier patient whose residency began

in 1912 and which ended just two months ago.

Any idea who?

No name given, odd though.

Luther is the key to all this.

The spider at the centre of the web.

I can feel it in my bones.

We've got to get him to talk.

That'd be a job for you two.

We've been chucked out on our ears.

- Hmm. - Hmm.

Well, gentlemen, here's to a new

and better future, prost.

Prost!

White and snowy lies the land.

Here comes Saint Nicholas, staff in hand.

Who's that with him? Face like a fright.

Knecht Ruprecht, Ruprecht, tuck up tight.

Knecht Ruprecht comes to poke and peer.

At all the little children who have been bad this year.

Too late now to go to church with coal,

then sack, then switch of birch.

Ruprecht will be the one to tell,

who goes to heaven and who to hell.

Luther?

Luther, why did you not come to bed?

Luther?!