All language subtitles for 4x01 - The Infernal Serpent .digitaldistractions.en

(Thunder)

PlANO: ? BEETHOVEN: Sonata in G

Right, weII, thank you, gentIemen.

Oh, bloody rain!

At least it's cIean rain, Master.
As far as we know.

Oh, damn it! l've left my papers at the lodge.

- l'll catch you up. Do you want this?
- No, thanks. l'll get my own.

- Reckon you can still make it, sir?
- lf l break my neck, maybe.

Why do l have to come out on a night like this?
You've had your instructions.

l told you - l won't do it.

l think you're going to have to...now.

? BEETHOVEN: Sonata in G

(Stops playing)

Forgot something.

Damn nuisance. Too much on my pIate.

Well, carry on.

Ughh!

- What's happened?
- They're counting the votes.

- Did Julian Dear speak?
- He never showed up.

(Siren)

(Camera clicking)

(Vomiting)

Curious state of affairs, concussion.

My doctor tells me that tomorrow l should expect
my legs to walk in different directions.

You must forgive me
if my account is a little hazy.

- This is your umbrella, sir?
- l imagine so.

You imagine so? Was Dr Dear's identical?

Would you expect my - the Master's -
umbrella to display some differentiating feature

from that of a Senior Fellow's?

Perhaps you have some generaI interest
in the taxonomy of umbreIIas?

Taxonomy? Sounds like stuffing something.

Stuffed umbrellas?

No, Lewis. Taxonomy is classification.
The Master was making a joke.

We onIy found one umbreIIa, sir.
I just want a cIear picture of what happened.

Of course. Forgive me. l'm babbling.

Blame the bump.

Blanche!

- One moment.
BLANCHE: Coming.

At Ieast I can babbIe,

which is more than Julian can do.
Oughtn't we to try the hospital again?

- His heart...
- We'll be notified of any change.

No more details come to mind yet, sir?
We need a better description of the attacker.

Well, what with the rain and the dark...

l had an impression of wild eyes.
Made me think of the young Wittgenstein...

if that means anything to you.

Before or after his Norwegian period, sir?

l was hoping to hear the debate myself.
l was looking forward to Dr Dear's contribution.

Oh, a very great man,
and so rarely tempted to speak. Such a pity.

ls that my umbrella?

Well, l should know. l darned it myself,

near the fastening, in 1 983.

Rather a dying art, darning, wouldn't you say?
And thrift is such an unfashionable virtue.

Definitely Matthew's.

Well, do we make the proverbial noises now?

l'm sorry?

Aren't we supposed to say,
''Would you like a drink?'' so you can say,

"Not whiIe I'm on duty"?
Then I provide tea instead.

- Tea would go down nicely...
- We don't have time, l'm afraid.

lt looks as if you disturbed
an attempted mugging tonight, sir.

I suppose an arrest,

let alone an early arrest,
would be too much to hope for.

l'll keep you informed of any developments,
but with so little to go on...

And serious under-manning of the police force.
l know.

l sit on the appropriate Government committee.

Still, l'm sure you'll do your best.
Who is your Chief Superintendent?

Mr Rennie on this case,
in the absence of Chief Superintendent Strange.

BLANCHE: Good night, Chief Inspector.

Sergeant Lewis.

Oh, l ought to tell you.

We're expecting a guest tomorrow...
for a family party, you see.

l'd be grateful if you'd bear that in mind

- when you're planning your inquiries.
- l'll do my best.

What?

Oh, yes. Thank you.
Many thanks. lt's certainly Matthew's.

(Phone rings)

Master's Lodge.

You'vejust caught him.

lt's for you, Chief lnspector.

Morse.

Thanks.

Yes, l'll get back on it.

Bad news?

Well, that complicates things a bit, sir.
We've got a death in it now.

The College porter thinks he saw a young fella
come dashing out this end. Right sort of time.

- Description?
- Vague, but he says he'd know him again.

Mm.

A pool of vomit around that corner.

Sheltered by the wall,
so the rain didn't wash it away.

They were at a Fellows' meeting.
lt ran late. They were in a hurry.

They were going to take the Beaufort Path.

The Master turned back at the archway
to coIIect some...

papers from home.

We've got a pooI of vomit and a Iost umbreIIa,
Mr Gray. Mean anything?

Vomit? What's new round here?

That bloke you mentioned - you didn't happen
to notice him puke first, did you? That corner.

No, he was on the move when l saw him.

- A student?
- Not one of ours.

No umbreIIa handed in, either.
Are you going to get who did for him?

We don't know he was done for.
We're waiting for the postmortem.

Even if his heart gave out, he was done for.

lt makes a difference, though, Mr Gray.
The charge, the sentence.

It's murder to me, and everyone eIse at Beaufort.

Well, let's just see
if you can't sharpen up your description.

Sergeant Lewis.

Thank you for coming at such short notice.

l thought some practice was necessary...

..before the funeral.

Right. Open the windows, will you? All of them.

And the door.

Byrd's Miserere.

Let's sing out our sorrow.

Let us be heard...

..by everyone in College.

PlANO: ? MOZART: Sonata in A

Hello?

Yes?

SyIvia!

Oh, my dear, you're earIy,
but how wonderfuI!

l...l have a pupil. Do you see?

Please. lt's all right, Blanche.
We'll hug later. Go back to her.

Very well. lt's ''him'', actually!

(Piano resumes)

He seems to have been some sort of saint,
this Dr Dear.

l can't get anybody
to say a wrong word about him.

He was so bloomin' modest,
l can't even get a profile.

- He was modest.
- You knew him, sir?

Only by reputation. Not personally.

- Who won the debate?
- Hm?

''This house believes that environmental issues
transcend party politics.''

Carried, by a small majority.

Dr Dear would have been pleased.

Refused an entry in Who's Who. He called it
''the poseurs' address book'', apparently.

Have you read his books, sir?

Not all of them.

l read The Barren Planet,
but l couldn't get through The Breath Of Life.

(Choir singing in background)

How about this for an environment?

Yeah.

Look after themseIves, don't they?

What about that Master's Lodge Iast night?
He's not short.

Well, it's always been very rich, Beaufort.

Very rich, very scientific, very musical.

Oh, message. Here we go.
This'll be the postmortem report.

? BYRD: Miserere

? Et secundum

? Multitudinem

? Miserationum...

Our visitor.

Our distinguished visitor.

What does one say?

One could say ''hello'', Master.

Hardly seems appropriate,

after aII this time.

lt'll do. l suppose ''Master'' is what l call you?

That, too, will do.

Yes. We've grown out of ''Uncle Matthew'',
haven't we?

A whim of my wife's, as l remember.

Like the present occasion.

Oh, come now, Master. You'll make me feel
my attentions aren't welcome.

Hardly a promising start for an interview.

l mean, my wife saw my cooperation
as a way of healing any breach

there might have been
between you and my family.

So, I compIy.

Why are the police here?

An unfortunate incident last night.
A Senior Fellow was attacked.

Lest your journalistic antennae begin to quiver,
the story is, so to speak, old news.

The local press have scooped you. Drink?

HeIIo, SyIvie.

l'm sorry?

lt's...lmogen, Sylvie.

Of course it is!

l'm sorry.

1 7 years is a Iong time.

For me, it seems, but not for you.

Nonsense. lt's called a clothing allowance!
How are you?

Oh, ticking over. You know.

This is Ron, my husband.

Well,

- that's something I haven't acquired!
- l've heard a lot about you.

l even read your stuff.

Good.
Help to keep the last decent Sunday in business.

And I want to hear about your business.
What is it? Horses?

Stables. Yes.

Off the Newbury Road.
lt's nothing glamorous. We're just starting...

SyIvia...

l'm so very, very glad you came back to us.

Thanks, Jake. That was a bonus in my day.
l didn't know you were back from America.

Oh, l have this arrangement now.

l spend one term a year at Beaufort,
the rest at Princeton.

A better class of mathematics at Princeton?

A better class of money.

And how about the choral singing?

Ah, now, there's nothing quite like
that pure, clear, English sound, is there?

Not the way you produce it.
We must have a drink sometime.

Well, l still do the Renaissance Group here.

We've missed you recently,
and your useful baritone.

Oh, the Renaissance Group's
too demanding now.

There's the job. lt's long hours.

This erm... Julian's death...

WiII this mean Iong hours?

Oh, l shouldn't think so.
We've just got the postmortem result.

- We're winding it up.
- Really?

Dr Dear died of a heart attack.

ls that official?

lt's what's on the death certificate.

The mugging was incidental.
He'd have died anyway.

Three, six months...

Was he a particular friend of yours?

l loved him.

Oh, no. We weren't lovers.

That wasn't his style.
Lots of people loved him. He inspired them.

Let's just say he was an inspiration.
ln my life, anyway.

l'm sorry.

This debate - he'd got something new to say.

Disturbing.

- Any idea what?
- He'd written to me about it in America.

There were...hints.

He talked about feeling obliged
to sound off in public,

- hoping I'd be there.
- Were you?

Yes.

Yes, by the skin of my teeth.
Just off the train. l made it.

And he didn't.

Sudden death.

It's hard to take.

PeopIe tend to Iook for reasons.

Do they?

It's the inteIIectuaI muggers
you have to watch for round here, Morse.

They're the ones
who wouIdn't have wanted him to speak.

You wouldn't care to elaborate, would you?

You know where to contact me.

Yes. Yes.

LEWlS: Mugging goes with drugs, often as not.
MORSE: If it was mugging.

Yeah. lt didn't ring any bells with the drugs boys.
Well, it's not the place for it.

You've been busy.

Well, it's got a bit of intrigue about it, this.

That pool of vomit, now.

lt wasn't your usual
spewed-up undergraduate rubbish.

Lewis...

Mm? Oh, sorry, sir. l forget your stomach.

lt was pastry, spinach and cheese, mostly.
Two kinds of cheese, as a matter of fact.

You didn't actually poke about in it, did you?

No, no, but I got a sampIe sent over to the Iab...
whiIe you went to hear that choir.

Now you tell me.

Brie and DoIceIatte.

Wholemeal pastry. Sort of a...

What is it? Quiche, probably.

How many people knew he had a bad heart?

What, deliberate, you mean? What's the motive?

Well, someone wanted
to stop him speaking at the debate.

What was he going to say?

Well, it would help if we found out,
wouldn't it, Lewis?

Let's go.

Are we sticking with it, then, sir?
Superintendent Rennie thinks it's finished.

Then he should say so, categorically.

Till he does, we've got a bit of time.

What makes you think undergraduates
don't go in for speciality quiche, Lewis?

lt's not on the College menu.

Oh, that vomit, sir.

There was reaI aIe in it, too.

Some of your fellas already took a look.

Yeah, well, l'm just doing a recheck.

Proper cell, this, isn't it?

Well, he was a real scholar, wasn't he?

- What did he do with his earnings?
- Gave it all away, l expect.

Who gets all this stuff? The books.

CoIIege, I suppose. He had no reIations.

MAN'S VOlCE ON TAPE: I am not at ease
with this machinery. PIease bear with me.

I resort to these methods
because it seems wise to make some record

of what I intend to say in the Union debate.

My contribution wiII be,
to aII intents and purposes, a warning,

a statement I am forced to make in pubIic,

even though I depIore the necessity
and am uncomfortabIe in that arena.

What I have to say has, I beIieve,
the most grave and far-reaching impIications.

I do not exaggerate.

Three of the country's newspapers have refused
to pubIish communications from me on this topic.

MATTHEW: Our visitor has the gift of...
weII, not tongues, exactIy. What wouId one say?

She facilitates. She gives scope.

She popularises, l suppose.
But then, that's her job.

l wouldn't call The Sunday Review
the most popular newspaper in the world.

- Oh, you know about these things?
- Well, l recognise Sylvie Maxton.

All Sunday newspapers are anathema to me,
l'm afraid.

You're not afraid for your reputation, Master?

l'm sorry?

Sylvie Maxton's stock in trade is the expos�,
l believe.

(Chuckles) Her interest in this occasion
is in the type, simply.

The Master of an Oxford college.

Do you have any idea of what
Dr Dear was intending to say at the debate?

No.

And he never made notes.

His lectures were the same - off the cuff.

And brilliant, of course. Closely argued.

Not that he gave many.
He preferred seminars. Small groups.

So, how was he persuaded to speak
at the Union debate?

lt was out of character, surely? The publicity.

He may have wished deliberately
to engage a wider audience.

The subject was an environmental issue.
Close to his heart.

Would his statement have been controversial?

- Who knows?
BLANCHE: DarIing...

You were going to attend the debate yourself,
sir.

May l ask if you would have been likely
to agree with Dr Dear's views?

- Darling...
- Since l hadn't heard them, how can l say?

You went back for some papers.
Were they relevant?

They were simply some reflections on the issues.

Now, l'm sorry l can't be of more help to you.

What is it l'm to do for this farce?

They want you among the delphiniums, darling!

Now, he'll decide to look gruesome,

and l shan't be able to bear the results!

Beautiful garden, Mrs Copley-Barnes.

lsn't it, indeed?

Of course, we're outrageously lucky
in the fabulous Phil.

The fabulous Phil?

Phil Hopkirk, our gardener.

WeII, not ours. The CoIIege's.

And not theirs for Iong, because he's been
seduced by Kew, wouId you beIieve?

He's staying on

to win the College Gardens Cup
for Beaufort this year - touch wood.

Do you dibble and hoe, Chief lnspector?

l...er...

can't somehow see myseIf raising fIowers.

Now, a perfect Iawn - that wouId be a chaIIenge.

Actually, l like to think
we've given something back to Phil.

He's a widower. His daughter's musical.

l encourage...did encourage her.

She's gone on ahead to London, to an aunt,

so her schooling's not interrupted.

Oh, what's this, now, would you say?

Second post, Mrs Copley-Barnes.

Thank you, Gray. l'll take it.

MATTHEW: What is it?
- Parcel, Master. Needs signing for.

What kind of parceI?

Matthew!

l think it's another one.

Don't accept it.

Send it back now. Please, don't accept it!

Keep calm, Blanche. l must accept it.

Oh, thank you, Gray.

This is not the first of these outrages,

these insuIts, Inspector.

One knows there are unbalanced people.
One hears, but one never really believes...

ls it a police matter?

- No cause for alarm.
- What is it, Father?

- lt's all right. Nothing to worry about.
BLANCHE: Yes, it is. I do fear it is.

l wish l could say otherwise,
but l am afraid we have to prepare ourselves.

Sender's address: 1 5 Beech Street, Highbury.

BLANCHE: False, like the others. The last one...

Oh, for heaven's sake, control yourself.
lt's a hoax, someone playing tricks.

- No name. Were the others anonymous?
- What's going on?

You might well ask. There's no answer.

No conceivabIe expIanation we can find.
Nothing we couId possibIy...

(Shrieks)

(BIanche groans)

(Ringing tone)

(Phone ringing)

So...

the Master of Beaufort gets hate mail?

Parcels, sir. Nothing dangerous.

Just distressing.

And you're saying there is some connection
with the attack on Dr Dear?

l'm saying l'd like to investigate further.

A mugging like that...unpremeditated, probably.
Hit-or-miss stuff.

What are the chances, Morse,

of naiIing someone?

Not high, sir, in the ordinary course of things,
l agree...

You see, what l want to avoid
is you turning over a lot of stones

just to see what's underneath.

- Sir?
- We all know your methods, Morse,

and l'll grant you, they've been effective,
sometimes.

The Master of Beaufort, Copley-Barnes,
is on a police force policy committee.

Did you know that?

Yes, l did know that, sir,

and he reminded me...

Where's your evidence for this connection?

l'm about to compile it, sir.

Have you ever been to Austria?

Only to Salzburg, sir.

For the Festival.

Oh...

What kind of festival is that?

So, there's nothing really for us
to get excited about, is there not?

You'd better give us the gory details, anyway.

Yeah. Yeah.

Oh, good.

l'm pretty sure we'll be on it for a bit yet.

Three.

Ah, not that long, actually.
No, it could be just three days.

OK. Thanks. Ta-ta.

Sheep's blood on the skull.
Well, lamb's blood, as a matter of fact.

Squeezed from the Sunday joint, maybe?

Well, at least Rennie gave us a bit of leeway.

Only till the ranks close, Lewis.

BLANCHE: Yes, terrible, terrible.
Horrendous. Awful. Terrible.

MORSE: Two parcels, you said, before this one?

Yes, two. D sharp, Laurence, if you please.

? MOZART: Sonata in A

They...came through the post
from London sorting offices.

Different offices?
This first one was registered in Holborn.

They came from...lslington, l believe...

and...Camden.

Matthew would remember.
l'm so sorry you missed him. He...

He had to go out.

The snakeskin...came from Camden.

Snakeskin?

The dried skin of an adder. Shrivelled.

l went quite dippy for a moment, when l saw it.

Matthew was remarkably steady.

Though even he... l mean, the second one...

Well, the smell was around for days.
The sitting room...

l had to see my pupils in their homes,
which is never satisfactory

because the instruments are always inferior.

MORSE: The smeII, Mrs CopIey-Barnes?

Fish.

Stinking fish.

A plastic pail, would you believe...

..packed with shellfish, seaweed,
the things you'd scoop out of a rock pool,

very carefully sealed, and then...

..when it was opened...

We're dealing with a fanatic here,
someone with an axe to grind.

Oh, no. No, no, Matthew said
it was almost certainly a disaffected student.

A faiIure, perhaps.

Even a failed first.
They're the most bitter of all, as a rule.

? Piano sonata continues

Your pupil's doing very well.

Oh, you're musical, Chief lnspector...

rather than horticultural?

l listen. l know your reputation as a teacher.

Really? You think it's fearfully exclusive?

l am very choosy, l suppose,

but then l don't care to waste my time
on anything less than real potential.

l bought my nippers
one of them electronic keyboards.

Parcels of...what?

NaturaI products. Why?

My husband thinks they might relate
to specific examination questions.

They could relate
to the motion of the Union the other night.

Oh, you don't imagine that they might have
something to do with what happened to Julian?

It's a possibIe Iine of inquiry.

You'll keep us informed?

Of course.

Oh...your son-in-law... Mr Garrett?

Ronald?

What about him?

He seemed concerned yesterday to play down

the significance of these things.

Oh, for my daughter's benefit, l expect.
That's his way. Protective.

- She's very highIy strung.
- Have they been married long?

Oh, it's four, five years.

He's very much lmogen's choice.

Er...by that l mean

that we, Matthew and I...

Thank you. l'll be in touch.

(Car pulling up)

RON: Morning.

SYLVlE: Hi. Where's lmogen?

lnside.

Did she say I was coming?
I'm going to pretend to interview her.

- We'll talk about old times, instead.
- She doesn't want to see you.

l'm sorry?

She's not well. She says to apologise.

Was it the parcel yesterday?

What did you make of it?

Somebody's got a grudge against him,
l suppose. Not surprising.

He offends a Iot of peopIe.

Give her these, wiII you?
They're from the garden.

Courtesy of ''the fabulous Phil''?

- And carried by "the commendabIe SyIvia".
- ls that their name for you?

''Who is Sylvia? What is she,
That all our swains commend her?''

l'm ''the reliable Ron'', l believe.

(Laughs) And are you? Reliable?

l was never very commendable.

- Must be hard work here.
- We Iike it.

Couldn't take a horse out, could l?

Do you ride?

I Iearned with Imogen when we were ten.
You couId come with me.

Fill me in on a few things.

Go on.

(Ringing tone)

BLANCHE: Master's Lodge.

HeIIo? Who is this?

Imogen, is that you?

Is it you, darIing?

Imogen?

PIease, darIing, don't do this again.

l used to come here for picnics once...
before l was taken up by the Copley-Barneses.

Before my father died.

l bet they didn't have picnics, did they?

No! They had expeditions
to centres of cultural interest!

(Laughs)

Does lmogen talk about the old times?

Not much.

What happened to her?

What do you mean, ''What happened?''

Well...she's different.

She used to be...different.

Energetic. Funny. I couIdn't keep up.

l went to London, she stayed on in Oxford.
She didn't get her degree, did she?

No, she had a breakdown,

as l'm sure you know from your research.

How did her parents react to that?

Overjoyed.

Look, l can't spare the time for this. Walk on.

l'm sorry,
but she was important to me, growing up.

They widened my horizons.
The whole family did.

- It matters if she's not happy.
- Are you happy?

Well...l haven't broken down.
l don't react to shock the way she does.

- She's got me to Iook after her now.
- Well, she's lucky.

I'm lucky...

as the parents never tire of pointing out.

Never wanted to give marriage a go?

l couldn't stay the course.

Kids?

l'm fine as l am.

We want kids...someday.

ls this all going in your piece?

What do you think l am?

l don't know.
l only know the kind of thing you write.

Walk on.

Where are you going?

- l just want to wash my hands.
- There's a sink in the tack room.

She doesn't want to see you.

l just want to say goodbye.

Why can't you leave her alone?

She was my friend, for God's sake!
You don't own her.

lf l'd known in time,
we might have come together.

Have you come to see lmogen?

There's been a small emergency.

She telephoned. All's well now.

l should confer briefly with my son-in-law...
since you're back.

l want to see her.

That's impossible, l'm afraid.

l think we should both be on our way.
May l offer you a lift?

l have a hired car. Thank you.

Tell Blanche l won't be home for dinner.

Was she famous, then, Mrs C-B?

Yes, she was quite a performer in her day.

Not world-class, but decent Third Programme.

Never made it to the top.
Maybe she lacked concentration.

She doesn't seem all there, somehow.

''The Master's absent-minded wife.''
lt takes years to cultivate that, Lewis.

An essential requirement for the job.

Do you think they could be connected,
these parcels, with the attack on Dr Dear?

Why not?

What have we got, Lewis?

A scientific philosopher, Dr Julian Dear,

a virtual recluse, keen on environmental issues,
anxious to speak in a University debate.

A strain on the nerves, that,
with his heart trouble.

Right. So doing it must matter to him.

But no notes.
No record of what he was going to say.

And then we have a distinguished chemist,
the Master, Copley-Barnes,

who's being pestered by a postal faddist

who's trying to teII him something
about death and decay.

Two sorts of attack.

On the same theme, like?

Do you think Rennie'll go for that?

l shouldn't think so.

Maybe he put it on tape.

What?

lf he wanted to make a record
of his speech,

he might have spoken it onto a tape.

There was a recorder in his rooms.

All his tapes were missing.

Yeah. So maybe someone knows
what he was going to say.

You've just earned yourself a drink, Lewis.

Oh, it's lentil soup in the canteen today.

lt's too warm for lentil soup.

Right.

Thanks.

Mum?

That's better.

Still on the trail, eh, Morse?

Or have you come
to sign up with the Renaissance Group?

Still on the trail, Jake.

l've just been going through
Dr Dear's things again.

Oh, anything l can do to help?

You can tell me who might have had a key
to his rooms. Did you, for instance?

Now, then, that's a very big naughty round here,
as you may remember from your Oxford days.

Did you?

No.

l think there's something missing
from his collection of tapes.

ls there some other way in,
apart from the staircase?

Er...no, no.

Well, Julian could have lent somebody a key.
He was an anarchist, after all.

He only kept to the College rules
when they suited his view of the world.

May l?

WeII, thank God

you're dressed.
We wouldn't want to shock the Chief lnspector.

You can go now.

(Sighs) Oh!

How very embarrassing.

Not to me.

l never could resist the charm
of casual acquaintance.

Speaking as a professionaI,
I tend to sound the standard warning

about ''casual acquaintance'' these days.

Oh, I absorbed aII the warnings Iong ago,

but then...health and efficiency
were ever my watchwords.

Look, l've got a tutorial in ten minutes.
Perhaps we should meet for that drink soon.

That first morning, you seemed to suggest
that all was not well at Beaufort.

Something about ''intellectual mugging''.

Well, l was upset.
What do I know? l'm away two thirds of the time.

LEWlS: Anything?

Nothing. Nobody's saying anything.
Everyone's scared.

The Porter's not saying much, either.

He hates the Master's guts,
but he's got this College loyalty.

He did say the place got a bit richer
when Copley-Barnes was lnvestment Bursar.

Did he?

Gave their industrial shareholding a big boost
in the late '70s.

Bought into CORBl lnternational.
They fund his research, too.

- CORBl?
- Chemical Organic Range and Biosystems.

Yes, l know what it stands for, Lewis.

CORBl was the victim of one of Sylvie Maxton's
journalistic enquiries recently,

if l'm not mistaken.

They're making a big thing of the funeraI.
The gardener's on overtime.

Did you see a young man leave by this door?

No. Only a couple of girls came out of here
while l've been here.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah.

There's a bloke down at Headquarters
who remembers her when she lived here.

- Who?
- Sylvie Maxton.

She's got a bit of form, you know.

She what?!

She's got form.
Been quite a naughty girI, actuaIIy.

Drinking, creating a disturbance.
Beyond parentaI controI, apparentIy.

She got a year's probation.

? Dele iniquitatem meam

? Dele iniquitatem meam

? Dele iniquitatem meam

? lniquitatem meam

How can the worldly pay adequate tribute
to one whose unworldliness

was his most admirabIe quaIity?

How can those of us
whose ideals were compromised early

appropriateIy praise one whose ideaIs

remained pure and uncontaminated
by the vaIues of the outside worId?

(Glass smashing)

? BACH: Prelude in C Minor

? BACH: Prelude in C Minor

Perfect Oxford sendoff. Quite moving, really.

The Master reserved you a seat, Miss Maxton?

l twisted his arm. Well, Blanche's.

Being the prodigal, l can get away with anything.

For the time being.

SYLVlE: David NayIor's here.
MORSE: NayIor?

- Head of CORBl lnternational.
- Are you surprised?

He's hardly a friend of Julian Dear's.

Excuse me.

PoIice. Excuse me.

Thank you. PoIice. Excuse me.

- Out of the way.
- Just a minute, you!

(Gasping and shrieking)

This is the man, Chief lnspector.
l said l'd know him again.

What have you got to gain? Time?

Because it is only a matter of time, you know.

And you'll regret wasting it with me.

ls this your usual reading matter?
Woman? Woman's World?

You probabIy gathered -
Jake Normington is a friend of mine.

He'II be brought in to identify you,
or at Ieast teII us what he knows.

Where he met you.
Where there is someone who'll give you a name.

How many cruising dons
have picked you up off the street?

It wouIdn't be difficuIt to bring in
one or two of the oId famiIiar importuners.

Less discreet than Normington.

(Knock at door)

(Shouts) Yes, Lewis?

Have you got a minute, sir?

MORSE: Where did this come from?
LEWlS: A house in WoIsey Street.

Burnt out. PC Hodgson went there
just after he saw our suspect

- brought in.
- Name?

McGovern, the woman next door thinks.

Just him and his mother.
They've not lived there long.

The mother's gone into hospital, apparently.

We're checking now.

l want to see everything
on Copley-Barnes and Dear.

And Jake Normington too, for that matter.
Has anybody got hold of Normington yet?

Your musical friend? l'm still trying, sir.

l'm going to visit Mrs McGovern in hospital.

What about him?

He'll keep, Lewis. He's where he wants to be.

Can l help you?

Good evening.
You've got a patient - Mrs McGovern?

Visiting's over, l'm afraid.

l've got an important message from her son.

He's not been, has he?

Not since yesterday.

- ls she asking for him?
- She does ask for him, yes.

Do you mind if l sit and wait?

(Mrs McGovern moans faintly)

Mrs McGovern...

..l want you to give your son
a message from his friends.

Police.

Chief lnspector Morse.
You have a patient - Mrs McGovern?

Yes. She's got a visitor.

Could l have a word, sir?

Call the squad!

(WPC speaks into radio)

Police!

PoIice!

(Clattering)

Who's paying yourbills?

Because there are a few to be paid now.

lntimidation with violence.

Arson.

Murder, maybe.

(Door rattles)

BLANCHE:
You must be quite exhausted, Matthew.

A funeral. An arrest. lmagine!

Did you...did you find it difficult
identifying the man?

l didn't identify him.

Not categoricaIIy. It wasn't possibIe.

We're off, then.

We've got a musical ride to see to tomorrow.
Going to be busy with the crepe paper.

You've made a terrific go of all that.

- The business, l mean.
lMOGEN: Do you reaIIy think so?

lt's Ron mostly. He likes taking on wrecks.

Oh, no, lmogen. You've always done your share.
l've been most impressed.

You've accompIished a great deaI
since you had your...

..since you changed course.

lmogen's always been accomplished.

Do you remember this?

? BlZET: Les Jeux D'Enfants

BLANCHE: Oh, Les Jeux D'Enfants!

Oh, yes, darling, do. Do you think you could?

She never practises, l'm afraid.

Nor do l, but this is second nature.
Come on, lmo.

- Must we plunge into nostalgia?
BLANCHE: But there were such happy times.

Such harmony.

Come on, lmo. Let's give them our turn.

Oh, that was great.

What's wrong?

That's enough. Let's go home.

Of course.

You probably just forgot.

- One gets these tiresome blanks occasionally.
RON: Come on, Imo.

It is time for your piIIs, anyway.

Oh, yes. The jarring of lmo!

Bye, Father.

Don't worry.

Everything will soon be back to normal.

Yes, she is a bit ''jarring'',

isn't she?

Whose fauIt is that?

Won't you be more explicit?

Since you appear to have been
tempted out of your usual reticence.

What exactly is this ''fault''?

You think your only worry is the way l speak?

We'll see ourselves out. Thank you.

Well, luckily,
l don't have a grating local accent these days.

Oh, Sylvia, you have a beautiful speaking voice.

(Northern accent)
We worked on it, BIanche.

ls your - what would one call it? -
your brief, your assignment, almost complete?

I fear my ego wiII never recover
from aII this attention.

l suspect your ego is proof against most things,
Master.

l shall be staying on a couple of extra days,
as a matter of fact.

l wonder if that would be convenient.

- Oh, well...
- ln Oxford.

Not necessarily here. With lmogen, maybe.

ls she up to visitors?

It might be better if you...

l'll consult the diary.

l'm thinking
of covering this gardening competition.

lf you really think Beaufort will win...

Beaufort and the fabulous Phil? (Chuckles)

Oh, we shall certainly win.
l've taken the measure of the opposition.

The visuals seem almost too good to miss.

Shall l clear away?

Mrs WaIsh might weII choose to feeI victimised
in the morning if I don't.

Matthew?

JAKE: I have to get out, Morse.

I'm Ieaving this cesspooI.
That's as far as my courage wiII take me.

Not very far, you might think,

but at Ieast I'm not staying
to be submerged Iike the rest of them.

Go easy on Mick McGovern. Trust him.

He's a neurotic but not a Iiar
and he'II taIk when he can,

aIthough you may be hard put
to distinguish truth from conspiracy theory.

I'm Ietting my FeIIowship go.

''l'm off to spend all my time with students who
can't even begin to understand Oxford irony.

They think it's hostile. Still, some of them
love Renaissance music as much as you do.''

What do you reckon?

l reckon we may as well give up now.

We all want to keep our jobs.

We're not all engaged in
a high-minded pursuit of the truth.

Well, not high-minded, perhaps...
but we want to know, don't we?

Yes, Lewis, we have that in common -
policemen and academics.

We want to know.

The difference is
that we'd be sacked for withholding information.

Now, tell me how far you got
looking into the College investments.

Oh, nothing doing.

l don't have the rank.

Don't you, Lewis?!

l didn't go to Oxford, see?

Well, l don't have the rank, either.

Why don't you ask Mr Rennie?
Perhaps he has ''the rank''.

l think there's a tie-up with McGovern.

He's a systems analyst, out of work.

The DHSS have been pushing him.
Well, there's hundreds of jobs in his field.

He has a doctor's note for his nerves, though.

And his last job was with Soilscan in Gloucester.

- Soilscan?
- Yeah.

Agricultural chemicals and that. Fertilisers.

A subsidiary of CORBl lnternational.

Yeah. That's right.

There, isn't it, Lewis? Hm?

Beaufort is involved with the parent company.

lt's right there, and we can't get at it.

So, why bother to try?

l mean, everyone's happy.
No-one's been murdered.

What was l doing
running through a hospital after a hired heavy?

Waste of effort.

And you reckon Normington's got the tape?
What do you think he'll do with it?

Textual analysis for his American students,
l expect.

l could do a bit of work on Soilscan.

Have a look at the stuff from the fire.

Have a look at my glass first.

lt's a bit early for a second, isn't it, sir?

We still haven't fathomed the umbrella.
Nor the pool of vomit.

What a good idea, Lewis.
The sicked-up quiche.

Do ''fathom'' that. Why don't you?

l'll see you later, then, sir.

There you are.

Thank you very much.

MATTHEW:
Did l say l wouldn't be home for lunch?

You said...an appointment...at 1 2:30.

l thought it would interest you, sir.

(Testily) What is it?

lt's a printer's code,
from the bottom edge of a poster.

What kind of a poster?

Greenpeace, would you believe?

- You're certain?
- Couldn't be surer.

Well, good work, Lewis.

There was other stuff like that
around the house.

A couple of books. Magazines.

l suppose most of the stuff
would have been burnt in his room.

All right. That's McGovern.

We know he's interested in ecological matters
and he used to work for Soilscan.

Well, he could have been blowing the whistle,
couldn't he?

lt's possible.

Although...why would he be knocking down
a bloke that would have been on his side?

Maybe he got the wrong man.

He what, sir?

He got the wrong man.
It was dark. It was raining.

Brilliant!

l bet he had a bad stomach, McGovern.
Sensitive bloke like him...

Yes, thank you, Lewis.

And he fetched up his vegetarian supper after,
just around the corner.

Oh, sorry, sir.

You reckon he was out to get the Master?

Or possibly he was out to get
CORBl lnternational through the Master.

No. No, no, no. lt still doesn't...

(Phone rings)

Morse.

MORSE: Has Chief Superintendent Rennie
been informed?

PC ON PHONE:
You're to get over there right away, sir.

ln that case, say we'll be there in a few minutes.

We've had a call from Mrs Copley-Barnes.

lt seems we're off again.

Mrs McGovern?

Mrs McGovern?

BLANCHE: I'm sorry. I couIdn't contact Matthew.

- Where is she?
RON: She's in the stabIe.

Locked herseIf in.

BLANCHE: What happened?

RON: She had a bad night,
and somebody caIIed her this morning.

BLANCHE: Imogen!

lmogen, it's Mummy, darling.

It's aII right. I'm here now, Imogen.

UnIock the door, darIing, and come out. PIease.

LEWlS: That's quite a display, Mr Hopkirk.

HOPKlRK: Yeah. Not bad.

Not as off-putting as a sheep's skull, l suppose.

lt's addressed to the Master, like the last one.
Has he seen it?

No. Blanche would sooner he didn't.

She doesn't want him bothered.

Well, he'll have to know, if enquiries are to go on.

Exactly. Her idea is that you just log it,
or whatever it is you do, and then do nothing,

unless another real abomination arrives.

l can't just ''log'' it. She made the complaint.
She should be here to give details.

That's what l said.

She wasn't even going to call you.
She asked my opinion.

You insisted?

You said you wanted to be informed.

You don't think the Master should be...

- spared the bother?
- No. Why should he?

- You teII me.
- l'm sorry?

Why the Master shouldn't be protected.

Are you suggesting
your enquiries be compromised

because he has to be told something
he'd rather not know?

No, l mean in larger terms.

ln terms, say, that might affect the slant...

- of your piece about him.
- l haven't decided on the ''slant'' yet.

No?

What's his record on erm...

..for example, environmental matters?

As deplorable as some of his associates'?

David Naylor's, for instance?

We shall have to see, shan't we?

My editor wants a series
on men of power and infIuence.

The Master of an Oxford college
is an obvious choice.

What do you make of his son-in-law?

What?

His son-in-law. He isn't an obvious choice
for the Master's daughter, is he?

Ron? He's lmogen's little rebellion!

A different kind of rebellion from yours?

l don't know what you mean.

We have a file on you, Miss Maxton,

at Headquarters.

(Horse neighing)

lMOGEN: Are you Iistening?

Are you listening, Mummy?

Yes, darling. l'm listening.

You've got to get rid of her.
You've got to get her away.

Tell her to go. She's evil. Do you understand?

l don't know what you're talking about, darling.

We were getting on so well.
lt was like the old days.

l grew up. That's all.

l resented being lmogen's paid companion.

Which is what l was, in effect.

BIanche's second chiId.

After schooI.

Most weekends.

Every holiday.

l was destined for an Oxford scholarship...

..but my mother became ill.

And l discovered gin and tonic...

and boys...

and smashing the occasionaI shop window.

l'm a good girl now, though.

Promise.

(Plays Sonata in A)

The Copley-Barnes years.

Touching, aren't they?

They seem idyllic.

They were, in a way.

Only, l didn't get the best out of them.

Rather like learning this...

for the fingering,

and not knowing till much later what it...meant.

(Continues pIaying)

HOPKlRK: Mandy!

(Shouting) Mandy! What did l tell you?

Oh...l'm sorry. l thought you were someone else.

There's been a message, sir. lt's urgent.

- What is it?
- From the hospitaI. McGovern's mother's died.

Tell them to get him out there fast...
with an escort.

l'm...

I'm sorry, Mr McGovern.

Now l'll tell you.

It was 1987.

I'd worked for SoiIscan about a year.

They'd been testing this stuff
known as EK4 over... WeII, I don't remember.

Say since the beginning of the '80s,

on a few targeted farms in Norfolk.

And they realised they'd got a winner.

There'd never been a fertiliser like it.

High crop yields, clean soil, everything.

There were memos predicting the end
of Third WorId famine by the turn of the century.

There was Government money
and approvaI.

You handled them? The memos?

Well, they were common knowledge.

You see, l dealt with the figures from the tests,
and you couldn't argue with them.

Then it all started to go wrong.

- We're so very sorry.
- My instinct last night was quite right.

BLANCHE: I was mistaken, SyIvia.

l don't know what got into my head.

We have guests arriving...

Very distinguished guests.

l thought l was a distinguished guest.

So...l'm afraid we need your room.

l'm sorry...

Don't apologise. l was leaving anyway.

Had you thought of going to lmogen?
l fear she couldn't cope, either.

l shall be at the Randolph. Two nights.

lt's not the first time l've fallen out of favour,
is it, Blanche?

Fallen out...?

WeII, what on earth do you mean?
There's no question...

MATTHEW: Erm...

l've had second thoughts
about this newspaper venture.

- It was, after aII, my wife's idea.
- Too bad, Master.

I shaII write my observations
with or without your approvaI.

And it's ''Sylvie'', Blanche. Not ''Sylvia''.

"SyIvie" was what my mother caIIed me.
It's the name I write under.

It's "SyIvie" now.

''Sylvia'' was then.

- Cancer?
- Yes, cancer.

lt showed up first in cattle
that grazed adjacent fields.

Got cereal in their feed.
Then there was the stuff about people.

What stuff?

There were two bread chains -
bakeries that used flour from treated wheat.

lt was the last stage of the trials.
Soilscan were about to go public.

Then some bright GP started asking questions

about the local incidence
of brain tumours in children.

Your mother had cancer.

- She just died, for Christ's sake!
- You were obsessed with cancer.

Yeah, if you mean
l didn't want anyone else suffering like she did.

At least, not without some accountability.

lt happens all the time.

- A mistake, people suffer.
- l'm not saying it was deliberate.

But it happened, and nobody would admit it.

So, you told Julian Dear?

Well, l'd read his books.

He was... Well, you know.
You'd read his books. Jake said.

Never mind Jake.

So you gave Dr Dear information
you'd handled in the computer department?

And other stuff. Stuff l photocopied
when l sussed what was going on.

Then I Ieft SoiIscan. I got the shakes a bit.

So why did you hit Dear in Beaufort Path?

l didn't. l keep telling you.

He'd been hit when l got there.

LEWlS: Chief Superintendent Rennie
wouId Iike to see you, sir.

Well, doesn't he know l'm interviewing?

Right away, sir.

HeIIo, Amanda!

l thought you were in London.

Are you back for a few days?

We must have a Iesson.
I found that MendeIssohn piece

I'd Iike you to try.

Oh, Phil.

I wish you'd toId me
Amanda was going to be home.

I do hope
she's managed to keep up her practice.

She's so very talented, you know.

Well, goodbye, Amanda. Goodbye.

No, well, l take your point, Morse.
lndeed, l take all your points.

l believe McGovern's story, sir.

- Yes, weII, maybe you do...
- When l have time,

l'll identify the man l saw in the hospital.

Look, you will have a chance to help McGovern
in the witness box.

First he'll get bail, then he'll get off.

See to it that there's reasonable doubt.

Beaufort College has large interests
and shareholdings in CORBl lnternational

and its subsidiary companies.

You don't know the size of their holdings.

l don't know precisely, sir,
because they're stalling.

l do know there's a CORBl representative
among the College's advisers.

Well, there's nothing unusual in that,
with business subsidising universities.

No, no, Morse. You stay out of Beaufort.

l'm sorry?

We're not talking about big-time crime,
for God's sake.

We're talking about a cover-up.

A cover-up of scientific data that might...

The stuff, the fertiliser,
whatever it is, has been withdrawn.

Even McGovern says so.

lf new evidence comes to light,
the right department will deal with it.

lt's not for us.

lf McGovern is telling the truth,
Dr Dear's attacker is walking around free.

You don't find it strange, sir, that the Master
sent Dr Dear ahead of him into Beaufort Path?

What an extraordinary imagination you have,
Morse!

Maybe you should give it a rest.

Why don't you take that holiday soon?

You have some leave owing.

MORSE: You're getting off, McGovern,
in a manner of speaking.

(Doorbell)

MORSE: Get in.
- What?!

Get in and keep down.

l'm putting my job on the line over this,
McGovern.

I want the whoIe story.

(Approaching footsteps)

DR DEAR'S VOlCE:
There is nothing new about the SoiIscan affair.

It foIIows a famiIiar pattern.

Life is destroyed,
and no-one admits responsibiIity.

We faiI in our own responsibiIity
if we don't do everything in our power

to see that such incidents are made known,
are heId up to the Iight of day,

are discussed
and made the basis of a sterner poIicy.

lt might have helped if l'd heard this before,
Jake.

JAKE: Sorry. Had to think of my career.
MORSE: I couId do you for obstruction.

JAKE: ShaII I send you the tape?

No, don't bother.

l don't think anyone will want to hear it,
somehow.

Give Mick my regards, Morse.
Say there couId be ajob for him here.

Yeah.

Julian told me to go to him

if things got rough.

He said we'd get on.

ls that what you'll do? Join him?

l will if l survive.

Let's not get melodramatic.

Who's being melodramatic?

Who burnt my house down?

Who had you taken off the case,
lnspector Morse?

Someone who couId say words in high pIaces.

Someone who's damned if he'll let you see
the extent of the College's investment in CORBl.

No-one's going to kill you.
You're not important enough.

What did they have on you?

What were they going to tell your mother?

l did some posing for magazines.

Years ago.

- I was broke.
- Hard stuff, you mean?

She wouldn't have understood.

l mean, she knew about me,
but...that kind of thing...

l didn't want her to die with it on her mind.

You were supposed to confront Julian Dear

and tell him you'd given him false information
about Soilscan

because you had a grudge against them
for not promoting you?

Yes, only someone had got to him first.

Well, l thought l was being set up for a murder.

When Copley-Barnes appeared,
l clouted him and ran.

Tell me...
what did you hope to achieve with the parcels?

Parcels?

The ecological statements,

in the post, to the Master.

The dried snakeskin,

the sheep's head and the blood,
the green ribbon...

The what? Me?

No. Not you, obviously.

Someone else.

(Team groans)

? MOZART: Sonata in A

(Phone rings)

Morse.

l hope you'll let me finish this, sir,
because it'll probably get you mad.

What is it, Lewis?

I'm in this pub, sir.
I've been checking pubs off my own bat.

And they've got this speciality quiche
on the menu - cheese.

Brie and Dolcelatte, as it happens.

- Lewis...
- No. Listen, sir.

You know who's a regular here?

Phil Hopkirk, the gardener.

The barman says he was in here earIy
the night Dr Dear got attacked,

getting a reaI skinfuI.

Well, what do you want to do, Lewis?

We're off the case.

Well, l could go and see him in the morning, sir.

What, on your own initiative? Against orders?

l'm just curious, sir.
l mean, it was me that got the vomit analysed.

Do it, if it'll get it out of your system.

Good night, Lewis.

(Sighs)

Can l have the keys?

- Sure?
- Yes, l'm sure.

Drive safe.

l want to see your daddy.

Er...Detective Sergeant Lewis,
Thames Valley Police.

ls it about her not being at school?

- I don't know anything. I do the housekeeping.
- No, l came to see her dad.

l told him we shouldn't keep her off.

Where is Mr Hopkirk?

Oh, he left early. Some competition or other.

ls that his umbrella?

Mind if l take a look?

l'd like to speak to your wife, Mr Garrett.

- She's not here.
- Where is she?

At the Randolph, seeing Sylvie.

- When did she leave?
- About 20 minutes ago.

(Laughing)

Miss Maxton?

WOMAN'S VOlCE: He had it coming.

Someone had to do it sometime.

(Morse diaIs phone number)

(Ringing tone)

l would have called you.

l was going to call you.

MAN: CID.

- Morse. ls Lewis there?
- No, sir. I haven't seen him for a whiIe.

Find him. Tell him to come to Beaufort College.
The Master's Lodge.

As soon as he can. Thanks.

Yes, sir.

Where's Mrs Copley-Barnes?

SYLVlE: What day is it? Friday?

It'II be organ practice in the ChapeI.

Same oId routine, year in, year out.

? JEHAN ALAlN: Le Jardin Suspendu

Tell me about the holidays at the seaside.

lt was kind of them to invite me.

What did you find on the beach?
A starfish? A snake?

Was there a sheep's head?

Trust me to spoil it.

How did you spoiI it, SyIvie?

There was a snake on the rock.

l screamed.

l made him put his arms around me.

MORSE:
You were frightened. You were a IittIe girI.

Oh...l was a big girl.

l was 1 1 .

l was a flirt.

Is that what he toId you?

Yeah.

lt was hot.

l couldn't breathe.

There was something buried in the sand.
Something...with horns and...

..holes for the eyes.

l looked at it. l just...

l just kept looking at it.

l looked at it the whole time.
l didn't look at him once.

MORSE: The green ribbon?

l left a green ribbon in his bed once.

lmogen found it.

She... I don't think she knew what it meant.

She couIdn't have, couId she?
Not his own daughter.

Why did you send the parcels?

l wanted him to remember.

All the times he'd made me be nice to him.

In cupboards.

ln bathrooms.

ln here once.

And Mandy Hopkirk?

Oh, have you seen her?
She's so sweet, so clean.

Poor PhiI. I couId have heIped him.

We had a case. Why couIdn't he wait?

Where's Mrs Copley-Barnes?

? Justorum animae

? ln manu Dei sunt

? In manu Dei sunt

? In manu Dei sunt

Mother?

Oh, no, darling. No, no, no. Go away. You must.

BLANCHE: l told him, lmogen.

l told him this morning.
l said we'd talked, you and l.

lMOGEN: You'd better bring my father.

Your father's dead, Mrs Garrett.

l couldn't allow him to live. Do you see?

He didn't deserve it, and neither do I.

There was a serpent in our house...

coiled around the foundations.

Mother...

Mother, stay with me, please.

I can't, darIing.

There's the dignity of the CoIIege to consider
as weII.

There's never only one bad parent.

The other must be bad, too, if onIy by defauIt.

lt's my fault.

l knew about it.

- Oh, no...
- I knew aII about them.

That's why he didn't Iike me.

l should have said.

lt's my fault.

No, no, darling! l'm the one to blame.

l let it go on.

l could have saved Amanda. l have to die.

MORSE: It's not a matter of guiIt, is it?

lt's a matter of responsibility.

There are two women with their Iives disfigured.

And now a young girI.

How many others?

There's only one way to help: let it all come out.

Nothing hushed up this time.

You have to Iive.

You have no choice.

Would you sing, please?

Do you mind, Chief lnspector?

Music does put heart into one.

Don't you agree?

? Justorum animae

? In manu Dei sunt

? In manu Dei sunt

Take her down the station.

(Choir continues)

LEWlS: A man gets drunk,

hits out blindly
at someone he thinks is the Master...

..and finds he's killed Dr Dear instead.

Why couIdn't he have come to us about his kid?

MORSE: They owned him.

He had no power. He didn't belong to the club.

There's not a soul would have believed him.

A serpent. Was that it?

It did a bit of curIing round here, an'aII.

(Choir singing)

MORSE: ''The infernal serpent, he it was,

whose guile, stirred up with envy and revenge,

deceived the mother of mankind.''

Milton, Lewis. Paradise Lost.