Original subtitles

THEME SONG PLAYING...

I don't like lady pianists.

It is my good friend, Judge Lobbett.

Very courageous of him to come down for the concert.

He's a marked man, you know.

Four murders in his household, within the past month,

and each time he has miraculously escaped.

Travelling for his health, I take it.

Like I am. He'll be safe on the boat.

I wouldn't bet on it.

Your police will have to keep him in a steel band box

if they are going to look after him.

Bravo!

Those are his children with him.

Senora Verola, ladies and gentlemen.

And now, mystery.

Ohh!

I'm pleased to tell you that Prince Samir,

the world famous Indian illusionist,

has very kindly consented to entertain us.

Oh, good. I'm potty about conjurers.

Prince Samir.

My name is Barber, Alistair Ferguson Barber.

I am Turkish, but I had a Scotch ancestor.

- "Scottish". - Yes.

I am in the fine art business. Pictures, you know.

- An expert? - Yes.

My good friend Judge Lobbett, is a collector. Very enthusiastic.

Very clever. Very clever.

They say those tricks are handed down from generation to generation.

All done by mirrors.

And now ladies and gentlemen,

Prince Samir would like to show you his most remarkable trick.

The greatest he has every performed.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, with the aid if this cabinet,

I shall make disappear any one of you, who will come and help.

I shall make that person disappear and re-appear.

And, if after the experience, someone can tell me how the miracle was performed,

well, I shall throw myself into the sea.

Now, who will be the first? How about you, sir?

Oh, no, Your Highness. I am too old for these adventures.

- Ahh! - We have somebody here.

I'll disappear.

You'll have to wait your turn, young man, Prince Samir has chosen me.

I shall now invite this gentleman to step in here.

I shall close these doors and when I open them again, he will be gone.

Now sir, if you please.

But you asked me first.

I don't know who you are, sir, but you're making a darn nuisance of yourself.

I am genuinely interested in this experiment.

And I think everyone else is.

You're spoiling it for everyone.

Now if you will please excuse me.

I said... I said excuse me please, if you don't...

You fool, can't you see the whole cabinet is alive.

Switch the power off.

Ladies and gentlemen, clear the lounge if you please.

Clear the lounge immediately.

There has been a slight accident, but no one has been hurt.

I want to know who's responsible for this.

My father might have been killed.

No one was responsible, sir.

It was an unfortunate accident in moving the piano...

I don't believe that it was an accident.

Alright Marlowe, this isn't the time to discuss this.

Someone knew I couldn't resist a conjuror.

But I don't think we'll discuss it here.

Please will you clear the area.

Never this has happened before, I promise you, never, never.

You too sir.

You saw what happened, sir. Do you think it was deliberate?

Yes.

Well, then, I guess you saved my father's life.

A pleasure.

Well, thank you. We owe you.

If there is anything I can do for you in London, please ring me.

I shouldn't think we'll meet again on this ship.

We humble artisans feel dreadfully out of place up here.

I'm scared, Marlowe, more scared than I was at home.

It's going to be alright, kid.

If only the old man wasn't so damned obstinate.

Taxi!

Aphrodite Glue Works.

Is that Mayfair 3925?

It's right. Who do you want?

It's alright. I want to speak to a Mr Campion.

Oh.

Can I have your name please sir?

Lobbett, Marlowe Lobbett.

Listen carefully, sir, you want Bottle Street police station on Piccadilly.

Side door on the right.

Up the stairs, to top. That'll connect you with the police station.

Can I come right away?

Shall we say, two-ish?

Two o'clock? I'll be there.

Pleased to see ya, good bye sir.

Where is dad?

Gone out, I think.

Well, go find him. And don't let him out of your sight.

- I'm going with you. - Isopel, please.

- Come in. - Thank you.

Here.

I have to live next door to a police station because of my friends.

It's also great protection against some of my more doubtful acquaintances.

I've come to you as a last chance, Mr Campion.

Yes, people generally do. Here, have some of this.

It's all my own work, it contains almost everything except tea.

Now, young sir, what did the police say to you this morning.

- How do you know about... - Police hair, my dear Watson.

Come and sit down.

They were no help, I suppose?

They wouldn't guarantee my father's safety.

No, I don't altogether blame them.

Your own police in New York

weren't exactly handing out insurance certificates, were they?

No. It's mostly the old boy's fault.

He won't let the police look after him their way.

You see he's never been afraid of them.

And he's not going to begin now.

He's not crazy, he just feels that way about it.

Well, you see what I'm up against?

Not quite.

- But I thought you knew... - Some idea.

Have an idea who they are?

Probably a gang run by somebody called Simister.

Does that name mean anything to you?

It does indeed.

Mr Campion, can you tell me anything about this man, Simister?

Is he just a gangster, a master crook?

Or is it like they say back home,

a powerful gang using the word as a sort of trade name.

Does Simister exist?

Somewhere on this earth, there is a man called Simister.

He may be a bogill, he may be a devil,

but he is a real power of evil.

I've talked to crooks, I've talked to the police,

I've even talked to members of his own gang,

none of them have every laid eyes on the man.

He's the voice on the telephone.

The shadow on the road.

The gloved hand that turns the light in the crook play.

But with one big difference.

He's never caught.

And they say no one ever escapes him.

Why your father?

It's sort of revenge, we think.

Why?

Well, the old boy's been fighting the Simister gang all his life.

And when the police caught one of them, Dad gave it him hard,

not unjust, just hard.

Is that all.

Well, Dad won't talk about it. We can only guess.

Let's have it.

I believe that Dad has something definite on the Simister gang

and I've been trying to figure out what it can be.

I hope for both your sakes, that what you think isn't true.

Revenge is one thing, but if has a line on these people, well...

What can I do? What can anyone do?

A fabulous summer spent on hiring Mr Campion's assistance or a waste of good gold?

I told you, you're my last hope.

My dear young optimist, what you're saying is,

"Here's a nice war, come and join it."

Hotch Daton won the first race.

Oh, good, now I can get dressed.

Had my shirt on that horse.

Excuse me.

Hold on, stop press.

"Judge Crowdy Lobbett, an American visitor,

"narrowly missed a serious accident

"when a taxi cab mounted the pavement

"near his hotel in The Strand

"and crashed through a shop window late this morning.

"No one was injured."

God, he doesn't know where I am.

Poor Isopel, she'll be terrified.

- I must go. - Wait for me, I won't be a minute.

I'm in this.

I knew it.

Giles, Swithin, he's here.

Ill met by daylight, proud Sir Giles.

Well, well, my little ones, how you've grown.

And by all that's unholy, except those plus fours, the Reverend Swithin Cush.

Hello Albert.

Now, man of mystery, spill the beans.

You're serious, the ancestral home is to let?

Absolutely, if anyone will take it.

We're a bit pushed for tinkle, Albert, seriously.

Trouble is we had horrible death duties when the poor old governor died

and farming simply isn't paying at the moment.

But all the village expect us to go on employing them and paying them.

Like the Pagetts have always done.

I've got something to put up to both of you.

It just so happens I want a country house, in a remote spot,

for a particularly peppy job I've got on hand at the moment.

- For how long? - A fortnight or so.

Mrs Wybrow, how marvelous, you read my dreams.

I know what you're thinking. You're wondering where the slow music comes in.

Have heard of Judge Lobbett?

We read the papers, even here.

The old boy, they're always trying to kill.

- Are you in on that Albert? - Up to the neck.

On the right side of course.

He stirred up a hornets' nest in America

and now it seems pretty certain they've followed him here.

The trouble is, he's an infernally tough nut,

he's not frightened and won't be helped.

Luckily, he's got a bee in his bonnet about folklore,

ancient English customs, that sort of thing.

That's really why he's coming, he can pretend to be lord of the manor.

I shall rely on you Vicar, for the archeology and what not.

Relics of witch burnings, polish up the stocks, you know the sort of thing.

Oh, I'm just the man for that.

Anything to do with the devil.

Oh, and he's fond of paintings, by the way.

Ours aren't much, I'm afraid.

Oh, they look alright and serried ranks of ancestors.

The main thing is the old bird wants to take the place off your hands for £50 a week.

Seems a bit hard, though, kicking you out of your own house.

No, it's wonderful. The Dire House is empty, we'll move over there.

Do you expect trouble, Albert.

I don't see how we can escape it.

But in a place like this, if there are strangers about,

well, we'll know at once.

I'll need your help, Giles.

It's about time something happened down here.

I'm in it too.

Oh, no, Biddy, no. This is men's work.

Quite definitely and seriously this is not your sort of show.

I am staying or the whole deal is off.

The judge has a daughter, hasn't he?

If she's going to be here, so am I.

Besides, what would you three poor fish do without me.

Saint Swithin, please bring your influence to bare,

would you tell her this is no place for the tender sex.

In the words of the barn, I do remain as neuter, although I usually obey Biddy.

You're making this very awkward.

- I've never done it... - Oh, don't be a fool, you silly old dear.

I'm with you to the death, you know that.

Well, you're a foreigner

and therefore it ain't likely you'll be used to our ways.

All the same, we welcomes you.

We hopes you'll do your best to keep up the old ways and do all you can for us.

Now, we'll sing a hymn.

Oh! You come upon me unawares, Mr Campion.

I was saying a few words I'll be going to speak for the visitors.

- Speech of welcome. - Something like that.

Me and the Rector was talking, you see. He was all for singing.

But me being church warden,

seemed only right I should do the greeting, him being a foreigner.

I wouldn't bother with a speech, George.

Aren't there some local customs, you know, maypolings and whatnot.

Not give a speech?

Well, you knows best, sir.

But maypoling time's passed,

and Pharisees Day, well, that ain't come yet.

None of these feasts are moveable?

Oh, no. You can't alter the days, not for nobody.

Pity.

Oh, no, there's nothing... Unless it be Owl Friday.

- Oh, it's not Friday. - Doesn't matter.

Owl Friday can be anytime.

Me and my brother Henry, we make powerful strong owls.

Especially if our whistles be wetted with some good beer.

Yes, good idea George, excellent.

But save your breath for whistle-wetting time, eh?

You just give me the word.

We're the men for you, sir.

Yes, I do believe you are.

Albert, I've been looking for you everywhere.

We showed them all over the house and they are just charmed about it.

Son's awfully handsome, don't you think?

You wait until you see me in my new ball gown.

Jealous?

I like that painting, Sir Giles. Romney isn't it?

Not genuine, I'm afraid, or it would have been sold.

My father called it our faux Romney.

Would you think it very rude of me, if I had it authenticated,

at my expense of course?

Not in the least. I should've had it done ages ago.

It is a lovely place.

I congratulate you, Mr Campion, on your choice on our behalf.

I hope the children won't find it too quiet.

I know you'll all excuse me.

You weren't followed?

I think they were waiting for us in London.

But your fellow Lugg put them off the scent.

Yes, he has a genius for misleading people.

We'll leave the place to you now.

You'll find Mrs Wybrow has prepared everything for you.

She's a wonderful housekeeper.

And you'll come across to the Dire House and have dinner with us this evening.

Oh, Miss Pagett.

I'm so glad you're here.

Thank goodness the judge fell for it.

Nice old boy, rather like the governor, only American.

Same direct way of looking at you and saying exactly what comes into his head.

Boy oh boy, what a girl! What a girl!

Would you say her eyes were blue or brown or a sort of heather mixture?

"Gillies..."

"Giles", Giles of course.

"Giles Pagett, the son of..."

- "Hubert". - "Hubert,

"holds of the king, nine caricades..."

Mmm-hmm.

"...of land in the hundred of Mist Mile."

Yes, Mist Mile was the old name.

Even now our creek is full of mist

when the rest of the coast is quite clear.

"There is land for seven ploughs,

"woodland for 10 swine,

"meadow, one league in length, for 30 sheep."

Well, if have to do this lord of the manor job,

I best be off to buy me some swine and sheep.

I can find you a secondhand plough.

An owl. Did you hear it?

I wonder what it means.

If I'm not very much mistaken, it means a visitor.

God bless my soul.

Mr Anthony Datchett, palmist.

Not a gate crasher I hope.

Datchett, of course. He's the palmist.

A fortune teller, now that is interesting. Is he a gypsy?

No sir. It's a gentleman with a big car.

He's an extraordinary chap, according to Guffy Randall.

Goes around country houses after dinner

shilling out the past and future at five bob a time.

Quite a character.

Well, let's have him in.

Why not, it's always instructive to be told what's going to happen next.

Mr Datchett.

May I introduce myself more fully.

My name is Anthony Datchett, I am an itinerant palmist.

I should be delighted if one or two of you

would consent to let me give a reading.

If I do, I can promise you one thing...

The truth.

Tell me.

Certainly.

Shall we go over there, better without an audience if one is to be frank.

The only man who told my fortune was an income tax inspector.

Did he tell you about Owl Friday?

Now then, children, would you like to see a dose

of my very own brand of magic? Gather around.

It's called the Three Card Trick or by the common route,

Spot the Lady.

Now then, miss, which is your money on?

I say.

Now then, Marlowe, keep your eye on the card.

Judge.

- Not a lady spotter in the house. - Brilliant!

You know, you could make a living with that trick.

I did, madam, I did. I kept a wife and three kiddies in comfort.

Albert the Card was famous on the race courses of Britain from Ayr to Ascot.

Then one day, alas the hand of the law came upon poor happy Albert's shoulder and...

When I got out of clink, it was Albert the upright, Albert the good,

as you see him now.

What a story!

Are you still married?

If you hadn't realised it before,

Mr Campion's a habitual and congenital liar.

He's quite astounding, honestly.

Biddy, you really should get him to tell your fortune. He's an amazing chap.

What really got me, was when he told me

that I was thinking of entering a horse for the Suffolk Show next month.

I now that's pretty obvious.

But he said I wouldn't send a mare and foal, but a hunter instead.

What's extraordinary is,

only the day before yesterday I decided not to send a mare and foal,

but put Oliver in the middle weight hunter class.

I haven't told a soul, even our groom, even Biddy.

Isn't that crazy?

He's got second sight that man.

Or he's done his homework rather well.

The reverend seems interested alright.

Doesn't he.

I do hope he's promising him lots of adventures.

He's led such a good, quiet life.

I doubt if he'd like that.

Old Swithin's note is tranquility.

That seems to be the note of the whole place.

What luck did you have?

Oh.

I'm too old to have any fortune at all.

I must go to bed, I know you'll understand.

We keep early hours in the country.

No, please don't get up.

- Good night. - Good night.

It's rather late I'm afraid.

I can tell one more fortune.

Let it be someone to whom I can promise nothing but happiness.

Will you permit me to tell yours?

Yes.

Good night my dear.

Give my love to Giles.

Although you will not marry one of your own people, your domains will be wide.

And you will know the peace, which is the lowing of kine over small meadows.

That is your fortune.

It is a pity I cannot promise as much to you all.

Adieu.

- Thank you for coming. - A pleasure.

- You pace your money. - Sir.

Alice is in the kitchen. She's brought this from the Reverend.

"Giles and Campion, come over alone. Swithin."

He wouldn't part with his ring unless it was important.

We best humour him. See what he wants.

You know, that fellow Datchett, he also knew my favourite brand of cigars.

He's quite extraordinary. But he was dead right about the hunter...

- Please let go, Miss Biddy, I tell ye. - Stay here, Alice.

He says that Giles and Mr Campion are to go alone.

No. Let me go in first.

All right.

String tied to the trigger. It's the usual way.

Oh, God. Poor old Swithin.

- Who's Henry Topliss? - Coroner.

- Sorry, I couldn't stop her. - He shot his self.

Lord have mercy on his soul.

Not in his chair. I'll not sit in his chair. The chair of the dead.

Rector dead.

I'll take Alice along.

She my sister. My wife take care of her.

She looked after he so long, this has come like a bit of a shock to her like.

Goodnight.

- Goodnight. - George.

- Don't rouse the village. - No, sir.

Mouth shut, best at a time like this.

What in the name of creation does it all mean?

You knew him as well as we did. Why would he do such a thing?

I don't know.

I don't know.

How horrible.

Over here, all in the dark.

Well, I'd better go and get Sergeant Peck and the old doc from town then.

Yes, we'll stay here.

This was on the desk next to the letter to the coroner.

It's for you.

"Forgive me and pray for me.

"My temptation was great. I succumbed to it.

"All my love to you, my child.

"Tell Albert about our longest walk."

I mean, what was the temptation?

Why'd he choose such an odd time? Just after that man was here?

Albert.

- That man killed Swithin. - Oh, come on now, Biddy.

That nasty little man with the red beard told him something.

While we were all listening to Giles he said something

to make Swithin so right out and kill himself.

- I know it. - It's pretty far-fetched.

Do you think he's just an ordinary fortune teller?

No, I don't. I don't think that for a moment.

That bird was up to something fishy.

Not exercising telepathy.

The stuff he told Giles was a pretty bright piece of work.

A chap like that could earn a fortune.

Could that man have come here because of the Judge?

- I mean, could he actually be the man you told us about? - Simister?

There's always a chance, I suppose.

Hmm.

That's from his best set.

Poor Saint Swithin. Most have gone potty.

I don't think so. I think he's trying to tell us something.

What about the longest walk you're supposed to tell me about?

We've been for so many walks.

One day everyone thought we got lost.

- That must have been the one. - Tell me.

We crossed the Stroud, and went onto the farther salting.

Then we turned back.

The sky and the water the same colour.

When we got back near here,

this big pool of quicksand.

People here call it "The Soft".

That must have been what he meant.

Danger.

Biddy, my dear child.

We all have to die in this wicked world.

And I'm not afraid of it at all.

But, if and when I do,

if something terrible should happen after my death.

Come on, Swithin. You're not going to die.

- Not for years and years. - Listen.

If something terrible should happen,

I want you to go to see Alaric Watts.

- Yes, I remember him. - Good.

- And you promise? - Yes, I promise.

- But what on earth are you talking about? - No more questions.

Let's go and have an enormous tea.

Cream buns and strawberry jam. I'm famished.

- Who's Alaric Watts? - Another parson.

He was Swithin's best friend. A very keen archaeologist.

He's got a parish over by Wickham Market.

But Swithin had never heard of the Lobbetts then.

He had when he wrote this note. And when he sent me this.

Alice, Sir Giles has gone for the police and the doctor.

I'll wait for him. You go to your beds.

I looked after him in life, I'll look after him in death.

He's old. He wouldn't want nobody but me.

Goodnight to you.

Ahh! Mr Campion. It's good of you to come over so late.

Please, help yourself to a drink. I guess you can do with one.

Yes. Yes, indeed.

This is a terrible business, Mr Campion.

Terrible, terrible bad business.

Death seems to follow me like gulls follow a ship.

No, I uh...

I reckon that you and I ought to understand each other before we go any farther.

You see, I don't know too much about you.

And I feel that I'm following your instructions without knowing why.

Marlowe engaged you to look after me, am I right?

But you're not a policeman, are you?

Hardly, no. Though recommended, I believe.

I suggested you come here because I believed you'd be safer here than anywhere.

- And your family would run less risk. - How much do you know?

In New York they were just trying to frighten you.

They didn't know how much you knew but suspected you had a line on them.

Then I think they realised you had a definite line, so,

they decided to kill you. You escaped.

I should say myself that you're very close to knowing the true identity of Simister.

That you got a clue, perhaps, from one of the Simister gang

which you can't quite decipher.

Well,

I don't mind telling you that when I first saw you, Mr Campion,

I thought you were the biggest damn fool ever made.

Now I'm beginning to wonder if you might not be some sort of telepathy expert,

like our ginger-bearded friend.

I've got one end of the string.

But if any of that crowd gets wind of it,

my fear is that they'll cut it higher up

and I'll lose the one chance of stopping this thing at the head.

It's me against Simister.

That's the way I feel about it and I don't want to involve anyone else.

- Wouldn't one ally be useful? - No. No one.

Not my children, not the Paggett's and not the police.

I'm not any of those.

I'm an old fool not to welcome your help.

But no police.

No police.

So, the inquest's over, eh?

Alright.

Extraordinary. That bit in Swithin's letter to the coroner about

a malignant and incurable disease.

Oh, Swithin was no more mortally ill than I am. It just wasn't true.

I just don't understand.

Well, it is the most common form of delusion.

- Once someone believes... - Kettle, Your Honour, from the shop.

Morning, Sir Giles, Miss Biddy. I brought your post, sir.

My daughter said, "There's His Honour, the judge going back the manor.

"Why don't you just nip out with his post?"

- Why, I'm very obliged to you, sir. - Oh, no sir.

It's my pleasure to oblige you and your family, sir.

We have a nice little shop here. Very well stocked.

Anything you require, day or night,

you just tell me and I'll send it over.

- Well, thank you very much, Mr, uh? - Kettle, Your Honour.

He seems very obliging.

Rather an oily fellow. No one in the village can stick him or his daughter.

- Trouble is, he's a foreigner. - Oh, I hadn't caught that.

Oh, yes. He comes from Ipswich.

Oh!

Well, I wonder who would be writing me here.

- May I? - Of course.

Oh, Lord. I forgot all about this.

I had written to some people in London about your painting, Giles.

They're sending a man down tomorrow.

Now, I can easily put him off.

I would feel ungracious to have him around at a time like this.

Please don't let this terrible thing make any difference.

Old Swithin never disobliged anyone in his life and I know he'd hate to do it now.

- Of course. Biddy's right. - Yes, well.

They're sending a man called Alistair Barber. I know him slightly.

Albert.

- What was the verdict? - Suicide during temporary insanity.

- Did you see the parson? - Alaric Watts, Reverend. Yes. Nice man.

Very upset about Swithin. That's all.

Perhaps he had gone potty.

Either that or the serious trouble hasn't begun yet.

What about the red chessman?

Biddy, my love. Promise me never, never, ever

say anything about the red chessman to anyone. Never.

- Promise. - I promise.

Bravo.

- Brilliant! Albert, we won. - It's a knack I acquired in China.

- Albert's marvellous. - I excel at all vicious games.

Now, where is this maze they tell me about?

Over there. On the other side of the garden.

Come on. We'll show you.

Albert.

I'm sorry Dad wrote to that art fellow.

- Rather gave our whereabouts away. - Alistair Barber. Yes.

Oh, don't worry. He's quite harmless.

Though like all experts he talks too much.

Worse than a movie stars' confessions.

This is a fine maze.

We used to have such fun playing here when we were children.

- Is this the entrance? - That's right?

- Do you want to know the key? - Oh, no.

That would be cheating, wouldn't it?

- I'll find my own way. - It's not difficult really.

My own tour of the maze, which our impetuous friend, the Judge has missed,

will be conducted by the world's greatest authority on

barratry, trigonometry, and the Kibbo Kift.

I shall charge a small fee.

Have you found the centre yet, Mr Lobbett?

I believe I'm getting that way.

I don't believe this maze has got a middle.

- Are you coming? - Right-O. Just coming.

The key is, turn left whenever you can.

Giles? Have you found him yet?

Still looking.

Dad?

Mr Lobbett?

Mr Lobbett?

Keep turning left.

Funny.

Look. I'll go back to the centre. You search the blind alleys.

- You go in, Marlowe. - I wouldn't.

Leave it to the professionals.

Mr Lobbett? Can you hear us?

No sign of him, Giles.

Try that false way out from the centre.

Dad? Answer me.

This is crazy. He must be there.

- There's no other way out, is there? - I don't think so.

- Maze never has a second door. - He's foxing.

He's lost, but he won't let on.

He's gone, Albert.

- He can't have gone. - We've searched every inch.

It's as if he's disappeared into the ground or something.

I knew something like this was going to happen.

They followed us here.

I knew we wouldn't be able to get away from them.

We've roused the devil.

I knew it. I knew it. There's some evil power that's stalking us.

It's something we can't escape.

Please don't disturb yourself.

I have an appointment.

I say, hello!

Oh, God. It's that damn picture dealer.

So nice to see you again, Mr Lobbett.

- Miss Pagett. - A pleasure, Miss Pagett.

Alistair Ferguson Barber. And?

I don't believe it.

My companion from the ship. Mr Albert.

Memorial. I never forget a name.

Slip of the tongue. Campion. Albert Campion.

Yes. Always joking.

Your father has asked me to look at a picture for him.

I'm afraid that's...

Judge Lobbett isn't available at the moment, I'm afraid Mr Barber.

He sends his apologies.

If you let me know where you can be contacted, I'll telephone you.

No. I will wait. I have plenty of time.

And what is time in a beautiful place like this?

This paradise.

This is the very soul and spirit of England.

When I look around, my heart flies up to heaven, like the crow.

Lark. The crow doth sing as sweetly as, but not flieth to heaven.

Look. The clouds of Constable.

Ah!

- Where is the painting? - What painting?

The painting. The supposed Romney.

Ahh.

Follow me.

What are you doing?

Who are you, anyway?

Alistair Ferguson Barber.

I am waiting for Judge Lobbett. I have a commission from him.

- And who are you? - Giles Pagett. I live here.

Then I must congratulate you, Sir Giles, on your beautiful house and estate.

But not, I am afraid, on the state of your paintings.

This one for example. It may be beautiful, perhaps even valuable,

but who can tell under all that grime and varnish.

And this fine Girtin, nearly ruined by the damp.

Would you please put this painting back where you found it?

But I must finish my photographing.

Well, finish it then. And then go back to London.

- I am waiting for Judge Lobbett. - Judge Lobbett is not here.

Where is he then? I have an appointment. I have it in writing.

Please do as I say.

Sir Giles...

You hope this is by Romney, eh?

At the moment, I really don't care who painted it.

- Any luck? - I don't know. Look at this.

That's the only place anyone could have gotten

in or out of the maze, bar the entrance.

He must have heard us shouting. There's no sign of a struggle.

How could anybody get him out of here without making a sound?

I'll organise a search.

On your way.

Come in, please.

Have you anything to report?

Any of you?

Has anyone seen anything unusual at all?

Speak up. Let's hear about it.

None of us ain't seen nothing, Sir Giles. It to be a wonder.

Maybe a wonder you haven't found him, George.

He can't have vanished into thin air, can he?

I could find the old gentlemen if anybody could.

I be wileful smart in searching out anything that be alive.

But neither me, nor Henry, nor none of us, we ain't seen nothing.

I'm afraid the man's right, Sir Giles.

I shut up my shop right away, and as you know, I've been searching ever since.

You can depend on it, we've done our best.

- I must have walked 10 miles... - Yes, we know.

Thank you very much. Now.

What about boats? Could someone have got the judge away on a boat?

- Henry? - No, sir.

My brother was on his boat all the morning mending nets.

If a boat had come, he couldn't help but see it. Isn't that right, Henry?

But when you were off searching.

The boy was there all the time, weren't you?

Yeah, I was there.

- And no mist in the tunnel either. - What tunnel?

It's what they call the creek. There's usually a mist pocket in it.

Like a bit of a dip in the saltings, like. Misty all day, they are.

It be a wonderful place for snares.

Used to be, I mean.

Thank you. All of you.

Mrs Wybrow will give you some beer in the barn. Off you go.

You stay, George.

This place is more or less an island.

The only way out is across the causeway.

No one's gone that way. I've had a man on it all the time.

I could vouch for that, sir.

This is the maddest thing I've ever known.

I think we should have another look in the creek,

in case they missed some footprints in the sand.

There are plenty of footmarks here.

- None down here. - Wouldn't be though, would there?

Why not?

Oh, my Lord.

The Soft.

Quicksands.

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