Original subtitles

i miriam jane cromer wife of howard cromer wish voluntarily to state that on

the afternoon of monday 12th of march 1888 at park lodge q green i murdered

one josiah percival photographic assistant in my husband's employment i

added potassium cyanide to a decanter of wine knowing that he was likely to drink

from it and be fatally poisoned my reason for committing this act was that

for a period of several months josiah percival had subjected me to blackmail

In the summer of 1882, I was 20 years of age, living at my family home in

Hampstead.

We were members of the Highgate Literary and Artistic Society.

One day I injudiciously agreed to take part with two friends in some

photographic sittings.

The lady who effected the arrangement was Dorothea Davenant, a leading member

of the Society.

We had been advised that the photographs were to be used for a painting to be

exhibited at the Royal Academy.

This was not the truth.

We were asked to adopt various Grecian-style poses for which we wore

diaphanous clothing.

Three years later, in September 1885, I married and left Hampstead to live in

Kew.

My husband, Mr Howard Cromer, was the proprietor of a reputable photography

studio at Park Lodge, Kew Green.

In his employment was Mr. Josiah Percival.

I was filling the decanters when Mr. Percival surprised me by stating he had

a matter of business to discuss with me.

He produced one of the photographs taken in Highgate some years before.

One of the unclad figures was unmistakably myself.

He bought it at a notorious shop in Holywell Street and was now offering to

sell it to me for ten pounds.

I realized that I would have to pay him.

I couldn't confide in my husband.

I had to go to a pawnbroker to pledge some jewelry.

The next day I paid Percival.

Before handing me the photograph, he made a number of offensive remarks.

He'd been drinking my husband's Madeira.

When at last he handed me the photograph, I burned it.

I knew it was possible that he had other photographs in his possession, and my

fears were confirmed a month later.

He told me that he intended to buy the original plates from which the

photographs were printed.

Then he asked me to advance him the sum of 150 pounds.

I knew he would be able to persecute me for as long as he wanted.

We had a large number of distinguished clients, people who would be outraged if

they knew that I had posed for pictures of that kind.

I devised a plan to administer potassium cyanide to Mr. Percival in such a way

that his death would be taken for suicide.

Please continue.

Potassium cyanide, you see, is one of the chemicals occasionally used in the

developing of photographs.

On Monday, 12th of March, my husband left for Brighton, where as vice

-chairman he was to attend a convention of the Portrait Photographers League.

We had no sittings that day, and Mr. Percival was working alone in the

studio.

The weekly order of wine arrives at noon on Mondays.

On its arrival, I took the bottles to the studio and filled the decanters.

Mr. Percival went out for lunch soon afterwards.

I unlocked the poison cabinet and poured about a third of a bottle of potassium

cyanide into a decanter of Madeira, knowing that Mr. Percival would help

himself liberally to the contents during the afternoon.

I replaced the cyanide bottle in the poison cabinet and locked it.

The action of cyanide my husband had often impressed on me was practically

instantaneous and quite fatal.

I left the house confident that I would find Percival dead on my return.

I would then create the appearance of suicide, placing the cyanide bottle

beside the wine glass and emptying the contents of the decanter, refilling it

with fresh Madeira.

My plans went irretrievably wrong.

He did not die at once.

Two servants found him in convulsions.

When the doctor was called, he diagnosed cyanide poisoning and asked me where the

poison was kept.

I unlocked the cabinet.

and showed him the bottle of potassium cyanide.

I pretended to have no knowledge of the events leading to Mr. Percival's death,

but I now confess that I murdered Josiah Percival.

I swear that this is a true statement, and do hereby sign it this first day of

June, 1888.

Miriam.

Jane.

Chroma. James... Perry.

Haven't you finished that yet, James?

It has to be right, woman.

I don't want him to think I'm looking for charity.

Listen.

To J. Tussaud Esquire, proprietor, Madame Tussaud's exhibition of waxworks,

Marleybone Road, London.

Dear sir, I have not had the privilege of meeting you, but I understand that my

predecessor, the late William Marwood Esquire, whose likeness in wax occupies

a place of honour in your exhibition, transacted business with you on a number

of occasions.

You will have read in the newspapers of the unexpected confession of Miriam

Cromer, the Q Poisoner.

prior to her trial.

You will be aware that the trial was expected to be one of the most

celebrated trials of this decade.

When sentence is passed, I will be visiting London in connection with this

case.

It would seem likely that after the due enactment of the law, you will exhibit a

model in wax of the perpetrator of the crime for exhibition in your Chamber of

Horrors.

As you are certainly aware,

It has long been a perquisite of the office of executioner to take possession

of the clothing last worn by those on whom he has performed his invidious

duty.

I should therefore be prepared to discuss the purchase by two swords of

the clothes of the person in this case, should you be interested.

Your humble servant, James Berry, executioner.

Mind you, I'm not looking for charity.

Of course you're not.

It's me who's going to dictate terms to them.

You know, I've waited a long time for a chance like this.

Bill Marwood, we're lucky.

He had Charlie Peace, Kate Webster and Dr Lamson. How much are you going to

ask?

Thank you, Sarah.

I thought 20.

That's not exorbitant, really, if you reckon the number of people who'll pay

to look at her.

Tickets for the trial were selling at five guineas until she confessed.

I think 20 pounds ought to be about right for the clothes.

Miriam Jane Cromer, you have confessed yourself guilty of the willful murder of

Josiah Percival.

Have you anything to say why the court should not pronounce sentence upon you?

You must answer.

I have nothing to say, my lord.

Then the law leaves me no discretion.

and I must pass on you the sentence of the law.

And it is that this court doth ordain you to be taken to the place from whence

you came, and from thence to the place of execution, and that you be there

hanged by the neck until you are dead.

And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.

The court will be upstanding.

Come along then, here we are.

My name is Belle.

Have you seen plenty of us, hawkings and me?

Well, pick yourself a bath then and get it filled with water.

Look alive then, take off your things.

I thought for a moment just then you were shy of showing your skin.

I'll warrant you've got nothing we haven't seen before.

Now, Sean, Friday nights we have four barbs on the go and eight others, naked

as footprints, waiting.

It comes exclusively for your class of prisoner.

Come along, then, all over, top to tail.

Here and all.

Here. I'll do it for you. No.

I can manage.

Please yourself.

Don't do nothing for me.

Tattooed prisoners here.

Can't put these away.

They'll need washing.

There you are, then.

No different from the rest of us in your skin.

Here.

Better get yourself dry.

Don't want you to catch a death.

Put this on and sit in a cubicle. You have to see the doctor.

Regulations. When that's done, we'll get you some prison clothes.

What will happen to my own things?

Mess.

And you speak to an officer, Cromer, and address her in the proper fashion.

I'm sorry. I forgot.

Will they be returned to my husband, Miss? No.

You'll be permitted to wear them again.

At the end.

I see.

And after that?

You don't have to worry, do you?

But if you think they come to any of us, you're wrong.

Never you mind where they go.

Gordon Cribb, is that you?

Inspector George, sir.

I've been trying to find you since yesterday.

Don't you ever leave a forwarding address when you've had a row with your

wife? Fine that I don't. It'll be some more interesting when I go back, sir.

I need to talk to you.

You're still off duty till eight, sir.

Quiet, Crib. Quiet.

Get out.

I do hate to disturb you, Crib, you know that.

Where can we talk?

There's an eating house right next door, sir.

It's about the Miriam Cromer case.

Beautiful woman, sir. Saw her in court.

Much too pretty to do a nasty thing like that, sir.

Yeah, yeah. Well, that's what I want to talk to you about.

She says she unlocked the poison cupboard.

So, where's the problem, sir?

There were only two keys.

One Howard Cromer wore on his watch chain, the other was Percival's, and it

was still in his pocket when they found his body.

If Miriam Cromer's story is to be believed, on the day she murdered

Percival, she was in possession of one of those keys.

Her husband, as he was in Brighton, he wouldn't have needed it.

A reasonable inference, perfectly possible, if it were not for this.

Howard Cromer at Brighton.

That's the key on his watch chain.

Cut from the photographic journal of March the 24th. The Home Secretary

received it yesterday. It came in a plain envelope with a West Central

postmark. There was no explanation.

This is one of the keys to the poison cabinet?

No doubt about it.

The Home Office have examined the original photograph under magnification.

That is one of the keys.

The other was on the body.

She had a copy made.

German barrel, tumbler lock, two keys, paracetrically cut. No copies.

No.

Percival let himself into the studio that morning.

He kept the key ring in his trouser pocket.

She says she took the poison from the poison cupboard when Percival went out

to lunch. When she saw him next, he was a dead man.

If she used Percival's key, how did she return it to the pocket of his trousers

after he was dead?

If my memory serves me correct, sir.

When the doctor asked about the poison... Miriam Cromer.

Yes. I unlocked the cabinet and showed him the cyanide.

She must have had a key in her possession.

I am at a slight advantage there, son Cribb. I've read Dr Eagle's deposition.

When he asked her about the cyanide, Mrs Cromer told him it was kept locked in

the poison cupboard. The doctor himself took the keys from the dead man's

pocket. Afterwards he replaced them.

Has anyone asked Mrs Cromer about it?

No, if she's covering up something or for somebody, she's not likely to tell

us.

There's a loose end somewhere and you want it tied up nice and tidy. And

quietly, Cribb.

The consequences could be disastrous if there was the slightest suggestion of a

miscarriage of justice.

Questions in the house.

Police made to look a laughing stock.

We need to know that Miriam Cromer's confession is the truth.

After all, why the devil should she commit perjury to condemn herself to

death? How long have you got, sir?

Good man, Crib.

The execution is in 11 days.

Not even a fainting?

Nothing.

Can't have sunk in yet.

It can take quite a time, of course.

It's sunk in all right.

She's got no feeling, that one.

She's strange.

Are you sure she's calm?

Of course I'm sure.

Well, I brought some salts.

She won't be wanting salts.

Not yet.

Give her time yet.

Isn't she all right to see the governor?

I told you.

She just sits.

She don't say nothing, no fits, nothing.

She just sits.

There's nothing I can do then.

You'll be wanted in due course.

To your feet.

Pair.

Step forward, Cromer.

I make a point of allowing prisoners under your circumstances time to settle

themselves before I visit them.

Now I always begin by making it clear that this institution exists only to

meet the requirements of the law.

If your sentence is confirmed by her majesty I shall be required to deliver

you to the sheriff for the implementation of that sentence.

Do you understand?

I understand.

Sir!

three Sundays must elapse since the day on which sentence was passed.

and assuming there is no intervention I must deliver you to the sheriff shortly

before 8 in the morning on... Monday June 25th.

no doubt you rest your hopes on the possibility of a reprieve.

my advice to you Cromer is to put all such thoughts out of your head and

reconcile yourself to your fate.

yes sir.

Getting ready for a visit from the Queen, sir?

Great! Good Lord, man.

What brings you out of this nick of the woods?

Working for statistics branch.

We need to pick your brains.

I've been asked to gather salient facts about a crime, reduce it to columns, and

if we get our columns right, we can do anything with statistics.

I'm starting with murder.

From all accounts, your Q Green case was a copybook investigation.

Oh, well, I wouldn't go as far as to say that, but it's decent of you to say so,

of course. Oh, a classic of its kind.

Ideal for my purpose.

Would you mind answering a few questions on how you nabbed Miriam Cromer?

Delighted, my dear fellow. Anything I can do to help? Statistics?

Well, come on in. It's nearly tea time.

Make yourself comfortable, Cribb.

I understand you were the first member of the force on the scene, sir.

That's right, yes.

You assumed originally it was a case of suicide?

Yeah, well, just as you would have done, Cribb.

When I heard from the analyst two days later that the Madeira in the decanter

was laced with cyanide, it quite transformed my opinion.

If Percival had poisoned himself, he wouldn't have put poison in the

decanter. He'd have put it straight in the wine glass.

No, I... I had a case of murder on my hands.

And the murderer had to be a member of the household at Park Lodge.

So I asked them to make themselves available for questioning.

I realised later I shouldn't have warned them I was coming.

Why, was somebody missing?

I know they were all present.

But so was Simon Allingham, a family solicitor. I'd have got a lot more done

without him.

He knows his job, does young Allingham.

He raised so many objections to my questions, he came close to obstructing

me in my duty.

You may find it difficult to believe.

But it took over an hour to establish who'd filled the blaster decanter.

Miriam Cromer. Yeah.

Well, she eventually admitted that it was a regular task of hers to fill the

decanters. Once the wine arrived on Monday mornings, I tried it over empty,

so there was a standing order with the wine merchant.

Now, on the day of the murder, the wine arrived at noon, and Mrs Cromer took it

straight to the studio.

You pick up any gossip with the servants, eh?

Well... There's no secret below stairs that Mrs. Cromer strongly disliked

Percival. My housekeeper stated that on four occasions, when Mr. Cromer was out,

Mrs. Cromer and Percival had, uh, ructions, as she called it.

But you know what I couldn't fathom? It was what Percival had on her.

Fargo pictures never crossed my mind.

You ever turn up any of these pictures?

Fancy a look, do you, Grim?

No, I didn't, more's the pity.

What sort of a woman, in your opinion, is Mrs. Cromer?

I thought it was statistics you came to ask me about. Oh, well, you got me

interested, sir. A woman who'll kill is a rare one.

Upon my word, yes.

So, sir, yeah, come, please, sir. I set another card.

Good thinking, constable. You'll go far.

That's a good man, that.

Reminds me of myself at his age.

Bright as a button I was.

Took a sharp mind to invent the truncheon pocket sewn into the uniform.

That's what clinched my promotion, you know.

Where was I?

Merriam-Cromwell, sir.

Oh, yeah.

Well, it was all done in cold blood. There's no doubt about that.

But if you were to ask me what sets her apart from other women, it's the absence

of pity.

She's so damn self-possessed.

You know, I wouldn't mind betting that even now she isn't wasting a thought on

personal.

Why do you think she confessed?

Oh, I don't know.

Only promised to be a classic trial, too.

With you as the principal witness, sir.

You know, I'm sorry not to get my chance in court.

We don't often get challenges here in Kew.

The odd obscene exposure by the lily pond, that kind of thing. But when we

do, we deal with them. You can tell them that at Scotland Yard if you like.

Whilst they collect statistics, we're out on the streets coping with crime

from hour to hour.

Get off.

A lot of cats?

Yeah.

They're strays. We get a lot of them being next to the bushes.

Stray cats, obscene exposure, the full calendar of crime, I say.

Governor, I wish to protest to the visiting facilities.

It's quite impossible to conduct a conversation with two prison officers

hanging on every word. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it is the usual

arrangement. I was being prevented from showing her certain documents.

What documents?

A copy of the petition sent to the Home Secretary and yesterday's edition of the

Times. There were some letters... Prisoners are not allowed newspapers, Mr

Allingham. Governor, this is a woman under sentence of death.

She needs to know what is being done.

You may expect some improvement in the visiting arrangements in due course.

But in the meantime... She tells me that the light is left on in her cell all

night. I have suggested to her that she places a handkerchief over her eyes when

she wishes to sleep.

Believe me, Mr. Allingham, I have no wish to cause Mrs. Cromer undue

suffering, but the regulations are specific.

If you could persuade her to speak to the chaplain, you would be doing her a

great service.

But that would be like telling her we're abandoning hope.

On the contrary, you would be offering her hope of redemption.

Our hope is for reprieve.

Then you are doing her no service whatsoever.

She will not die.

They would not dare hang her.

I have received no indication to the contrary, Mr. Allingham.

My dear sir, my apologies for keeping you.

Your name, I was advised, is Cribb, but I know nothing else about you. Sergeant

Cribb, Mr. Cromer, of the Criminal Investigation Department.

I thought we'd seen the last of you gentlemen at Park Lod.

I've been asked to make another check of the statement your wife made.

This is the lady, I presume?

Yes, taken last year to mark our second wedding anniversary.

Stunningly beautiful, isn't she?

It may sound odd to you, Sergeant, coming from a man of my age, but I am

enslaved, utterly enslaved.

Merely to look at her is the greatest happiness.

You must forgive me if I talk incessantly about her. It's your wife I

came to ask about, sir. Ah.

And do please sit down.

And look at this.

This will speak more objectively than I.

If you'll allow me.

There.

Miriam with her family.

They came here one April afternoon in 1885 to sit for a family portrait.

That was the first time I ever met her.

Your reputation must be widely known, sir.

Oh, well, my work had been reproduced in the Tatler.

Miriam herself had drawn her father's attention to it.

Now, I took these the following week.

Isn't she lovely?

Some of the set I knew before my marriage.

There's Miriam in the white dress. Oh, that's Simon Allingham, our solicitor.

How long have you known Mr. Allingham, sir? Simon? Oh.

Must be ten years. We hunted together with a Hertfordshire. He's a first-class

fellow. He's been a tower of strength these last terrible months.

Oh, may I?

I seem to be stuck together.

There.

No harm done.

A spot of glue on the mount.

Our wedding.

Miriam complains that this is the only photograph I appear in. I arranged for

Percival to take it.

This was in September 1885.

Your courtship was brief then, sir.

But intensely busy.

In five months, we did enough for three years.

Theatre, opera, Ascot, Henley.

Of course, convention called for a longer engagement, but I was enraptured

with her from the beginning.

And she convinced me that I was the only man alive she would consider marrying.

Oh, there's Simon, my best man.

Doesn't Miriam look magnificent?

She is my inspiration.

As a matter of fact, I was making a print of her hands when you arrived.

It occupies my mind to work, privately, of course.

I've refused all commissions since the tragedy happened.

This unfortunate event must have hit your business hard, sir.

Yes.

Yes, I fear so.

I heard that you built it up by your own effort, sir. Yes, that is absolutely

true. I am a self-made man.

You won't give up the trade, sir?

Trade is not the expression I would have used.

This is my art, and I shall continue to practice it.

I've come a long way in photography.

When I first began in the 60s, every gentleman insisted upon being posed

leaning against a cardboard column, top hat in hand, and one leg crossed over

the other.

How long have you lived in Kew, sir?

Four years, four years only.

This is my reward.

This studio represents many years of tiresome work.

photographing vicious little boys in sailor suits.

at one time I worked from a wooden shed on the promenade at Worthing but that is

in confidence sergeant.

was Josiah Percival your first assistant sir?

yes the first with any photographic knowledge.

I took him on soon after I moved here. it was the worst mistake of my life. the

man was a... the man was a viper.

and I failed to see it. oh as an assistant he was conscientious enough.

But an upstart.

I knew that he helped himself to my Madeira, for instance.

But had I the smallest suspicion that... That poor girl.

She said not one word about him, Sergeant. Not one word.

Why was that, sir?

I've asked myself that repeatedly.

Those words in her confession. To confide in my husband was no solution.

My own wife could not turn to me in her torment.

There are secrets in most marriages, sir.

Were there misunderstandings between you?

Misunderstandings?

Nothing of any consequence.

It would be fair to say that during the first six months she found it difficult

to adjust to the marriage bonds. My fault.

Mine entirely.

After our marriage, I wanted Miriam to myself.

Mary to see her in my own house, to talk to her, to photograph her, was all that

I desired. I failed to appreciate that when I was working, she might become

bored.

You gave up your former friends after you were married? Yes.

Yes, all except Simon Allingham.

To be candid, I was worried Miriam might weary of me and find the younger people

more amusing.

I'm a jealous and possessive man, and that's the truth.

That you trusted your wife?

She was an innocent child.

Nothing that has happened has changed my devotion to her.

To lose her...

Is there a chance, do you think? I couldn't say what is in the Home

Secretary's mind, sir.

Where were you on the day that Percival died, sir?

In Brighton, Sergeant.

The Portrait Photographers League was holding its annual conference.

I am its vice-chairman.

What time did you leave the house that day, sir? Oh, early, early. I cannot be

exact as to time.

You were catching a particular trident? No, no, a particular one.

What time did the conference begin, sir? Eleven, Sergeant.

That's a take of good.

Two hours to get to Brighton from here.

You're there in time, I hope, sir. The trains are most reliable.

Would this by any chance be where the wine is kept? I see you have some

glasses on the top. Please forgive me. May I offer you... Not on duty, sir.

I would like to see inside, if I may.

The one containing the poison is still in the hands of the police.

The decanters always kept locked in here sir? Oh no no no. When clients come I

have them on top to offer them a glass.

Photography is an awesome experience sergeant to the uninitiated. You're

fairly sure that Percival would help himself to some during the day? It was

more likely than not.

He was lying here when the servants came in. The wine glass fallen beside him.

Which is the poison cabinet sir?

Oh that's in the darkroom if you'll come this way.

May I see inside, sir?

The cyanide was removed.

Still like to see inside, sir?

That's the capital idea, sir. Keeping the key on your watch chain.

No risk of leaving it around.

That was a good, strong lock. May I?

Aha! It locks automatically.

Of one thing I can assure you, there was no negligence in the tragedy that

happened here.

We were all aware of the lethal effects of potassium cyanide.

There are only two keys to this cabinet, yours and Percival's. Is that correct,

sir? Yes.

On the day Percival was murdered, you were in Brighton. Where was your key?

Well... Thank you, sir.

Thank you.

On the day Percival died, this key never left my person.

Why, is there some difficulty over the key?

No.

No difficulty that I can think of, sir.

One thing I would like to borrow, if you have such a thing, is a photograph of

your wife. Oh, with my compliments.

There's no shortage of portraits of Miriam. That's good.

The one I want is this one.

The one I was looking at when you came in.

If you have it in a size convenient for my pocket.

Sarah, two swords have answered.

Madam, two swords?

About those clothes, is it? About me.

We would deem it a privilege if you would consent to sit for us and permit

us to include your likeness in the exhibition.

You mean they want... That's right.

They want to make a waxwork of me.

Along with those murderers?

It's no disgrace to stand beside them in a waxwork show.

It's an honour.

An object of unfailing interest to our patrons.

That's what they say.

When do they want to see you?

I'll call and see them when I'm down in London with Miriam Cromer.

How long will it take them?

I don't know. They don't say.

I expect they'll want some photographs taken and then I'll have to have a

sitting. You must bring some back.

You know, I've been saying you should have your photograph taken. I have never

had a proper picture of you. I'll get one taken when I'm down there.

You could wear your chapel suit.

Aye.

Aye, I'll wear me chapel suit.

I'd much rather have one of you up there than that lot.

Ah, those people made history, woman.

I only hanged them.

Look alive, Cromer. You have to see the governor. Nine o'clock sharp.

Why does he want me?

I don't know. On your feet.

Is this the porter of the Dogmas League?

Yeah. Excellent.

Who are you?

Wallace, sir. The clerk.

Good. I wish to inspect the minutes of the annual general meeting held in

Brighton this year.

I'm, um... I'm not sure you're allowed to do so, sir. Kindly produce them.

That really isn't possible this morning. Not possible? Not possible for a member

to inspect the minutes of the AGM? Are you familiar with the Constitution?

Ah, it says here that the Vice-Chairman presided.

There were 63 members present. Is that correct? Quite correct.

Mr. Cromer presided for the whole of the meeting, did he?

Mr.

Cromer, sir? Mr. Cromer is the Vice-Chairman, is he not? Oh, yes, he

is, to be sure, but... At the start of the Annual General Meeting, Dr.

Dartington Fisher presided.

Mr. Cromer is the new Vice-Chairman, sir.

The new committee having been elected towards the end of the afternoon.

I see.

Now, here's a queer thing. It says here that the treasurer was elected by 47

votes to 31.

Would you check my mental arithmetic, Wallace?

47 and 31 comes to more than 63, doesn't it? Yet it states at the beginning there

are 63 members present.

63 in the morning, sir. Some members arrived late.

Do you recall who? No, I'm afraid I don't.

Unless... Unless they wrote to the secretary advising him they were unable

to be present.

May I?

Ah. My dear Thorne, this is to advise you that I am unable to attend the

annual... You won't be needing this.

Just a moment, sir. I'm afraid I haven't another moment to spare.

Good day.

You're sleeping better now, I hope.

The communication which I hold in my hand is from the Sheriff of the City of

London.

It is the warrant for your execution.

It will take place a week from today at eight in the morning.

Do you wish to sit down?

It will mean that you return now to a different cell, but with the same

offices and attendants.

You may receive visitors.

Your husband, your solicitor, if you wish.

You may speak to me or to the chaplain if anything troubles you.

I urge you again to commend your soul to the Almighty.

He receives those who repent their sins.

This way, your ladyship.

I suppose you can't wait to see your new home.

Well, nearly there.

Here we are.

This is yours.

Exclusive.

This is larger than the other cell. It has to be for three of us and the

occasional visitor.

We still have to watch you in turn.

Two by two, day and night.

It's no different in the CC, you know.

CC?

What's that?

Do you play cards, Cromer?

We're allowed to play cards with you.

Belle and me know just about all the three-handed games you ever heard of.

Nap, poker, rummy, cribbage.

Cards is a wonderful way of passing the time.

No, thank you.

You didn't answer my questions.

Well, if you really want to know, it's the name we give the cell.

C for cell, follow me?

The first C could stand for cards, couldn't it?

But seeing as you're not disposed to play cards, how would you care for a

game of draughts instead?

Then we could call it the D C.

What about that, eh?

Perhaps the pose is plastique, would interest you, sir.

Nothing more artistic than this?

I'm afraid not, sir. Have you tried further up?

Where can we talk in private?

Police?

Sir, help me. They was here last month.

My case came up at Bow Street Friday. I was fined 25 pounds.

What's funny? I don't deal in misdemeanors. Do you think it interests

me what smutty little pictures you keep locked in this desk?

The crime I'm investigating could get you put away for life.

There's a dead man, Brodsky.

Murdered. Came in here last winter to buy pictures of this woman.

Straight. I never seen this lady in my life. I swear it. You're lying.

This man bought several pictures, one called The Three Graces.

I never sell such pictures.

This is not the only shop in Holywell Street. There are four, maybe five

others. I've checked them.

You make a mistake, believe me. It won't be 25 pounds this time, Brodsky.

I never seen this lady.

May God strike me down if I don't tell the truth.

Yes, sir.

The Highgate Literary Society?

No, sir.

Oh, yes, sir, but it ain't here no more.

Been two years now.

They're not meeting any more.

I'm looking for Mrs. Davenant.

Oh, er... Well, since it's Wednesday, you might try the board school up the

road. She visits there to see the state of the children's heads.

Public hygiene, she calls it.

This is about that woman in queue, I suppose.

That creature who poisoned a man.

It was all in the Times.

Lies. Lies, ma'am? That vile confession.

A concoction of wicked lies.

mentioning my society and my name in such a connection, one would think from

the times that the society existed for no other purpose than the debauching of

innocent girls.

I shall sue naturally.

Next.

Do you recollect Mrs. Miriam Cromer as a member of the Society, ma'am?

I do not.

She was only 20 then. Known by her maiden name of Kilpatrick.

I have a photograph of her which might assist your memory.

My memory needs no assistance.

Next.

She refers in her confession to two friends.

Perhaps she'll remember three girls about the same age.

We had a membership of over 80 in the first year, Sergeant. Next. Ah.

How was the society formed, well?

In April 1881, the month Dear Dizzy passed over.

Now there was a Prime Minister.

Not only was he a gentleman and a statesman second to none, but a literary

man. Next.

I was reliably informed the Society existed entirely through your

inspiration, an unflagging enterprise, ma'am.

One tries to occupy oneself usefully, Sergeant.

My membership list was a testimony to the reputation of the Society.

Ah, next.

You happen to have that list, ma'am?

Destroyed.

When the Society came to an end, I put everything to the flame.

Everything. I was extremely provoked, as you may imagine.

Certain people had accused me of self-aggrandizement, Sergeant.

Naturally, I resigned my position.

Highgate was deprived of culture by the vitriolic remarks of a clique of jealous

incompetence. Headmaster?

Yes, ma'am?

There seems to be something here. Have the doctor look at it, will you?

Ma'am.

Very sad that a fine society like that should disappear overnight.

Memories apart, there's nothing to prove that it ever existed.

Not a thing.

Pardon me, Mrs. Dabner, but if this gentleman is looking for proof of the

Society's existence, I have it in my study.

I was myself a loyal attender for three years, if you remember.

We made our pilgrimage to Hampstead one afternoon to see the actual seat where

poor John Keats was accustomed to rest before he died.

Some of us formed up for a photograph.

If this picture is of any interest to you, sir?

Unfortunately, most of these people are strangers to me.

It occurs to me that in group portraits, the names are sometimes written on the

reverse. I wonder whether... I'm afraid there's nothing on the reverse of this.

Er... See for yourself.

Look at that.

Miss M.

Kilpatrick.

Judith Honeycutt.

Miss C.

Piper. Mr. G. Swinson.

Mr. S. Allinger.

Do you remember any of these people now that we have their names, sir?

Absolutely not.

It was six years ago.

That happened to be a copy of the post office directory.

I won't cut this one open, sir.

Can I help you, sir?

Mr. Honeycutt?

No, sir. Mr. Honeycutt sold the business to me, sir.

Ah.

When was that?

Oh, that would be in September 1884.

You happen to know the present whereabouts of the Honeycutt family?

Couldn't say, sir.

There was only the old man left, wasn't there?

He wasn't up to carrying on the business after his daughter went.

Went? Judith Honeycutt? Where did she go?

To meet her maker.

Oh, she died, sir. Oh, a tragedy.

She was only 21 and a fine-looking lass, too.

You happen to know how she died?

Oh, yes, sir.

It was all reported in the Express.

She committed suicide at her place of work.

The photographer's in West Adelaide.

She took poison. That's potassium cyanide.

Potassium cyanide?

The model of Miriam Cromer is practically finished, Mr. Perry.

We shall exhibit the figure the moment we hear that you have...

performed your work.

I expect a considerable crowd on Monday morning.

A murderess is a particular attraction.

It's just a job to me, Mr. Tussaud.

I make no distinction, man or woman.

Except in calculating the drop.

There is a lot of sympathy for Mrs. Cromer.

The newspapers are full of correspondence about the sentence.

Won't you not suffer at my hands?

It's all scientific now, you know.

We give him a long job. It's very quick. There's no bungling.

Yes, quite.

Well, now, Mr. Berry, with regard to our present business, we thought if we could

begin the sitting for your own likeness this afternoon.

There is the matter of the fee.

Those who appear in the chamber are not usually compensated for the honor, Mr.

Berry. Most of them are dead, except, of course, yourself.

We thought perhaps the sum of 100 pounds.

I think that would be most satisfactory.

You know, my wife asked me to bring her a spare copy of the model when you'd

done it.

She said she wanted to keep it in the front room under a glass dome.

But I told her I'd get some photographs taken while I was down here.

She'll have to be content with that, eh?

Had you chosen a photographer?

I thought I might go to Cromer's studio.

Cromer? The husband of the lady in question.

He's still in business.

Ah, how quaint.

You like to get close to your subject.

I like to say sometimes that I stood in the place where it actually happened.

It makes a story to tell your grandchildren.

Indeed.

And you can bring them down here to see you when the model is done.

You'll find you'll become quite a figure of veneration.

Do you know, Mr. Perry, sometimes when we're cleaning the models in this

chamber, we find handkerchiefs pushed in the pocket.

Ladies' handkerchiefs, lace-edged and still smelling of perfume.

People are strange, eh, Mr Tussaud?

You say there were these three young ladies, Cribb? Miriam Kilpatrick, Judith

Honeycutt and Miss C. Piper. No Christian name. Constance, Carol,

Charlotte. And you believe they were the three who were tricked into posing for

improper photographs? The confession mentioned three, sir. So you went in

search of Judith Honeycutt?

and you found she was dead from cyanide poisoning i was interested in the

photographer mr duquesne who employed miss honeycutt damn it crib her job is

to inquire into percival's death and there's not much time i went to west

amsterdam with the intention of calling on mr duquesne but he no longer lives

there in fact mr duquesne seems to have vanished without trace my theory is that

after julian duquesne left amsterdam he started up as a photographer in queue

but not as julian duquesne you mean as hard chroma When I first interviewed

Howard Cromer, he went to no end of trouble to cooperate.

I couldn't get a straight answer about the time he left for Brighton, except he

left sometime early in the morning. He was not expected there till half past

two. When he showed me the photograph album, he tried to give the impression

that he first met Miriam the day her family came to the studio at Kew.

for a group portrait that was in April 1885.

I believe he knew her three years earlier than that. What ground do you

have for saying that? I was suspicious of the album itself, sir. A photograph

of their wedding two and a half years before was stuck together, which implied

that it hadn't been looked at since it was put in, unless it had been recently

pasted into the album. That set me thinking that he might have put the

entire album together to illustrate his story.

That's a lot to deduce from a spot of glue, Sergeant.

Well, that isn't the only thing, sir.

The photograph the headmaster showed me showed the three girls together and

beside them Simon Allingham, Cromer's oldest friend.

Now, if Allingham was known to Miriam in the summer of 1882, it's feasible that

she was also acquainted with Cromer. That won't do, Sergeant.

You know what you're guilty of?

Post hoc ergo propter hoc.

Pardon? Do you not have Latin? Well, it doesn't matter. It means that your

reasoning is founded upon a fallacy.

you've persuaded yourself that Cromer is not what he purports to be. so you're

fitting the facts to justify your prejudice.

it's possible that he was involved in Percival's death sir.

if he was in queue that morning he could have put the poison in the decanter as

easily as his wife could.

more important he had a key to the poison cabinet and she didn't.

Sergeant, I cannot emphasize too forcibly that if there is anything in

this at all, it will not convince the Home Secretary without solid evidence to

support it. Where is that evidence to come from? Miriam Cromer, sir.

What precisely are you saying, Sergeant? It's race Thursday, sir. The woman's due

to hang on Monday.

Our report should be on the Commissioner's desk by tomorrow evening.

There's no time to put men on house-to-house inquiries to establish

Cromer's movements on the morning of the crime.

Miriam Cromer can tell me.

Permission to interview her, sir. Out of the question. She's in the condemned

cell.

with respect sir i'd like to know why it's not possible it would not be

countenanced surely in the interests of justice justice has had its opportunity

sergeant all we are now required to do is to find out how she did it do you

follow after all she did plead guilty let hangman berry do his work on monday

if after the execution anyone should question her guilt it would be as well

if the independent inquiry did not conflict with her confession

Damn it, Crib, you can see that, can't you?

Just find out how she did it. All right?

There's a visitor outside.

You've some hair showing. Tuck it under your cap.

It's your husband.

My love.

Tell me what is happening outside.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

The petition is being delivered to the Home Office this afternoon.

13,000 signatures demanding a reprieve. An avalanche of sympathetic letters.

Sympathy? What do you mean, sympathy? I'm not dead. Oh, no, no. Forgive me.

I'm confident that justice will be done.

I mean... I know what you mean.

Howard, has something else happened?

Tell me.

There have been two visitors this week.

On Sunday, a detective sergeant came and put a lot of searching questions to me.

About what?

Well, he wanted to know what train I caught to Brighton. What did you say?

You know me.

Incorrigibly vague about such things.

I showed him where the decanters were kept. He wanted to see inside the poison

cabinet and insisted on opening it himself with my key.

Was he satisfied?

Well, he should have been.

But there's been something else.

I'm convinced that the inquiry is still continuing.

The second visitor? Yes, he came yesterday afternoon.

A strongly built fellow with a scarred face and a black beard.

He said he wanted a photograph of himself.

Did he ask you questions? Oh, yes, he asked me questions.

It was all he could do not to take out his notebook.

He showed a lot of interest in the room in which the occurrence, as he described

it, took place.

I photographed him. He gave me an address in Bradford to post the portrait

to. Probably the police station.

So, you've sent a second detective.

Have you spoken to Simon?

Yes.

Ask Simon to visit me tomorrow morning.

And Howard, I shan't expect to see you.

Do you understand?

Howard? Yes?

I am grateful.

There you are, crib.

That's every picture confiscated by my squad and my predecessors in the last 15

years.

Help yourself.

Artistic poses, continental groups, all the fun of the fair sex.

Look here, Moser, couldn't you see your way to helping me through this lot? I

don't have much time.

I agreed to let you in here, Crib. And God knows I had to bend my principles to

do it.

And now you're asking me to plow my way through 10,000 pictures with you. And I

don't even know what you're looking for.

This woman and two others.

Don't you think it would help if you told me her name?

Miriam Cromer. The Q Poisoner? The same.

She's not our sort, Crib. Save yourself the trouble.

She's not the kind of trade we get in here.

You know something? I'm beginning to believe you're right, Inspector.

You said there were others. May I?

Any of these faces mean anything to you?

No.

Oh, only the actress.

Actress? That one, Lottie Piper.

She's in that show at the Royalty now.

Lottie, Charlotte Piper, Lottie Piper.

That's who it is.

Obvious.

Moser, you are magnificent.

Oh, you develop a memory for faces in here, among other things.

Come in, darling.

Which particular darling are you?

May I come in, miss? I've yet to meet a darling who didn't.

Not what you think, miss.

Police.

Oh.

I have a card.

Yes, well, I can see you haven't got any champagne.

Oops.

Fifteen minutes, Miss Piper. Thank you.

I am in rather a hurry, officer.

I'd like you to look at this picture.

You recognize the lady?

Of course.

But I don't recognize you.

Sorry, miss.

Detective Sergeant Cribb of the CID.

Really?

Now, I wouldn't have thought detection was necessary, considering Miriam's

confession was in all the papers.

She is due to hang on Monday, miss.

Representations have been made to the home office on her behalf, and it's my

job to see if they hold water.

Has madam decided she would like to change her plea?

No, no, no, no. I'll ask the questions, miss.

You saw the confession in the papers. A section of it refers to you.

I didn't give your name, but... Well, it was you, wasn't it? Come now, Sergeant.

Let's not be coy.

You asked me if I took my clothes off for a photograph.

You won't make me blush after the years I've spent in the theatre.

What you got up to, Mrs... No interest.

Well, that's not very gallant.

Tell me, have you seen any of these deplorable photographs?

No, Miss.

Well, I can assure you the pictures I remember were absolutely tame.

Lord knows why Miriam took such a serious stand on the matter, actually

poisoning a man on account of it.

When did you join this artistic society?

Oh, darling, I've no idea.

I haven't a head for dates. All I can remember was that little hall buzzing

with conversation.

Seemed to me like the Cafe Royal. I'd never experienced anything so exotic.

How did the business of the photographs arise?

Ah, well, one of the Society's founders was a personal friend of Sir Frederick

Leighton. She happened to know that the great artist was interested in finding a

number of...

Elegantly proportioned young ladies to pose for a canvas on a classical theme.

We were told an assistant of Leighton's would make the preliminary study. The

following afternoon, we presented ourselves at the studio to discover that

the assistant was not a painter at all, but a photographer.

Called Julian Duquesne? Needless to say, Sir Frederick Leighton knew nothing

about it.

Do you happen to know how Judith Honeycutt came to be in Duquesne's

employment? This is a free country, darling.

She went to work for him.

Come now, Lottie, that's no help.

Judith is dead.

Miriam is locked in a death cell.

You are the only one who can tell me how those photographic sittings led to one

girl working for the man and the other marrying him.

Did he blackmail them?

Blackmail? Oh, Sergeant, that's delicious.

You evidently need a few lessons in feminine psychology.

We were paid a guinea each and we giggled all the way home. We were modern

young women, Sergeant.

And they were classical poses.

I was rather relieved that the picture didn't appear at the Royal Academy.

It never occurred to me they'd be put to any other purpose.

We were deeply interested in the impression our bodies made on Julian

Duquesne. Each one of us imagined him becoming intoxicated with her charms.

You went back. There were more sitting. Oh, we pursued him.

He was Deloche, poor man. He tried to solve the problem by introducing us to

his friends.

It nearly worked. Simon was smitten with Miriam. Simon Allingham? Yes.

But Julian was the prize she wanted.

We were the three graces in a modern judgment of Paris, Sergeant.

And each one of us wanted to win.

Overture and beginners, Miss Piper. Thank you.

And while Judith succeeded in installing herself as Julian's assistant, Miriam

was left at home fretting.

Crying? No, Sergeant.

Give Miriam credit for more style than that.

More planning.

Ah, you mean while Judith was in the dark room, Miriam and Julian were out

with a camera and a picnic basket.

Exactly. So Judith was eclipsed.

You might think so, but not yet.

Sometime later, I met her in Hampstead High Street. Her face was pink with

excitement.

She told me she was engaged to be married to Julian.

No. And that they intended to tell Miriam that very evening.

Judith was certain that Miriam would share in their joy.

I told her frankly Miriam would be incensed that she was too single-minded

to give up.

Judith laughed and said she had no fear of losing Julian. She said he didn't see

Miriam as a person at all.

But a face.

A face to be photographed, not to be kissed.

I said that perhaps Julian saw all women with a photographer's eye.

She laughed again and said she was sure he did not.

She was carrying the proof.

His child?

Tell me something, Lottie.

How do you account to yourself of Judith's death?

Sergeant, I couldn't account for it.

Lottie, do you believe that she took her own life?

Since I read in the papers what happened in Kew, no.

I think Judith was murdered.

Not too close.

How are you? Impatient for news.

My dear, Howard is missing.

The police want to question him.

They found out he's left the house.

They think he's left the country.

They're trying to find him. Yes, and that means they want to charge him with

something. Then it's nearly over, Simon.

Yes.

Nearly over.

Thomas fled.

Seems likely he's left the country.

Good Lord, what on earth has made him do that?

Things have been happening so that I know nothing about.

I think I have a right to be informed if another officer's put on the same case.

What other officer?

I was keeping Cromer under light rain.

Someone else has been to see him. Panicked him. He could be in France by

now. Who have you put on to this, sir, following me around?

There's nobody else. I haven't sent another detective.

Well, then who frightened him off?

If Cromer's left the country, you've lost him.

You can't get him back without an extradition order. And an extradition

order requires a very serious charge. It would have to be murder.

And you can't charge the man with murder when his wife's convicted of the crime.

No, sir, I know.

Not unless we can arrange a pardon for his wife.

So, Sergeant, what do you want me to do?

Persuade the Commissioner to let me into the condenser.

I must speak to Miriam Crump.

Simon, if we could only begin again.

Oh, Miriam, my dear.

There is nothing I would rather wish for.

But you must put all such thoughts out of your mind.

There is a way, Simon.

I wouldn't ask you to say anything that was not true, only to keep silent if the

moment comes.

Will you do that for my sake?

Oh, if only Howard had been as honest with me as he was kind.

What do you mean?

That he concealed from me the truth about Judith Honeycutt.

Judith?

But there was the inquest.

You knew about the tragedy. We all did. Simon, I know how Judith died.

What are you saying?

He confessed it to me as he lay beside me on our wedding night, that he was

responsible for her condition at the time of her death.

She had threatened a scandal unless he married her. In his mental anguish, he

decided there was only one escape to do away with her.

Oh, Miriam, for God's sake, this can't be true.

I knew nothing of this. Nothing.

Whatever view the law may take of the present case, he is guilty, Simon.

Judith died in agony.

I wanted you to know.

If they find her, they will arrest him.

They won't be obliged to pardon you before they can issue a warrant.

Howard will be brought to trial unless he can convince them he is innocent.

But if he is unable to convince them, Simon, then I shall be free.

In every sense of the word.

I say this is without precedent, Sergeant Cribb.

I've never spoken to a prisoner under sentence of death.

I hope you know what you're doing.

Tell me, how is she enduring?

No better for this infliction, sir.

The governor's with her.

Chief Inspector Jowett, would you begin?

My assistant, Sergeant Cribb, is to put the questions.

Oh, please sit down, Sergeant Cribb.

you haven't met me before ma'am.

I was brought in to take a look at the confession you made.

I'd like to talk about that confession if you don't mind.

I want to ask you if you stand by everything you said in this document.

naturally she does.

this is an affidavit sworn by magistrate.

I must caution you not to impute perjury to my client sergeant.

yes of course.

There are certain small things that have come to light since your conviction.

We can't quite square them.

The mistake may be on our side, or it must be.

May I take it that you're prepared to answer questions, ma'am?

I'm not here to trap you.

I don't go in for trickery.

I'll come to the point.

Shortly after your conviction, a scrap of paper cut from a photographic journal

was sent to the Home Office.

A picture of your husband taken in Brighton the day Josiah Percival was

killed.

An arrow drawn in red ink points to the key that your husband wears on his wash

chain.

A key that subsequent inquirers established belongs to the poison

cabinet.

Now there's our first problem, ma'am.

How could you have unlocked the cabinet if one key was with your husband and the

other in the pocket of the victim?

My client does not wish to add anything to the statement she has already

volunteered. Naturally, I was obliged to check the movements of your husband on

Monday the 12th of March, and it transpires that he was not, as we had

supposed, in Brighton that morning.

He was in fact not expected to be there before half past two.

He could on the face of it have doctored the decanter himself.

That is absurd.

You can have no evidence to suggest that Mr. Cromer poisoned his own assistant.

What possible reason could he have for doing such a thing? The reason that Mrs.

Cromer gave in her confession.

She was being blackmailed.

Her reputation, and therefore that of her husband, was at stake.

The man who took those photographs of you and your two friends was known as

Julian Duquesne.

Was he not?

Is this of any relevance?

You should know, sir, he was your best friend.

And your husband, Mark.

I am right, am I not?

Unfortunately for you, these photographs fell into the hands of Josiah Percival,

who told you he acquired them in Hollywood Street.

From my inquiries, I suspect that he mentioned that notorious place to

frighten you.

You made a number of payments to Percival over a period of four months.

But you did not speak to your husband about it.

I am bound to wonder why.

She made the reason perfectly clear in the affidavit.

It could serve no practical purpose except to extend the blackmail to

Howard. I am aware of that, sir. What I'm coming to, ma'am, is it wasn't just

the photographs you thought would alarm your husband.

It was the connection with West Hampstead and Judith Honeycutt's death

from cyanide poisoning.

There was an inquest.

Judith committed suicide.

One thing was not made clear at that inquest.

The coroner was not informed that at the time of her death, Judith Hunnicutt was

engaged to be married to Julian Duquesne.

What? How could you possibly know that?

Because she told Lottie Piper.

Lottie?

Lottie has spoken to you?

Yesterday.

Lottie never liked me.

She was viciously jealous because Howard chose me as his model. I was the one he

wanted, not Lottie or Judith.

Judith is expecting a child.

And Howard...

Poisoned her.

Miriam! Why deny it now? The girl was a whore, worse than the ones on the

streets because her price included marriage.

I suggest you say no more. If I don't speak now, I shall be hanged, Simon.

God knows I've kept silent.

No one can accuse me of disloyalty to my husband. He has condemned himself by

running away.

His nightmare was that someone would discover the real circumstances of

Judith's death.

When I told him Percival intended going to Hampstead to try to trace the plates

of those photographs, he was seized with terror.

He was certain it would raise questions that had never been asked about Judith

and himself.

He believed his arrest for her murder would be inevitable if he did not act.

So, instead of travelling to Brighton that Monday morning, he remained at Park

Lodge and put poison in the decanter.

My husband killed Josiah Percival. He killed him.

He killed him.

I am innocent.

Sir?

He's guilty, Simon.

Tell him.

Tell him.

My dear, I cannot do that.

Simon.

Simon, for me.

For us.

Leave me alone!

Simon, won't you save me?

On the morning of 12th of March, Howard Cromer was with me in my chambers.

He had come to consult me about the blackmail which Miriam had confided to

him at the weekend.

My clerk... We'll confirm. No, it isn't true.

Don't believe him. They plotted this between them. Can't you understand?

They made me confess so that Howard could escape.

They promised I'd be pardoned. They promised.

That I believe, ma'am.

You expected to be pardoned.

But you should have heeded Mr. Allingham's advice and said nothing.

Left us to draw conclusions.

Mr. Allingham would not have told us that your husband had an alibi until you

were pardoned.

But you've now forced it from him by accusing your husband of murder.

You wanted too much out of this.

Her pardon and your husband's conviction.

The charge of murder against Howard Cromer would never stick.

Mr. Allingham knows it.

The purpose of the plan was to raise enough doubts in our minds to secure

your release.

How could I have unlocked the poison cabinet with no key?

You used Josiah Percival's key.

I asked him for it, and he handed me the means of his destruction.

That is in effect what happened, ma'am, except that it wasn't the poison cabinet

you said you wanted to unlock. It was the chiffonier.

Where the decanters were kept. Your husband was out when the wine arrived.

So you borrowed Percival's key to unlock it. An innocent sounding request which

he was unlikely to refuse seeing that he was partial to Madeira.

Percival's keys were on a ring.

On that ring was also the key to the poison cabinet.

I returned the keys to him after unlocking the chiffonier. Without the

key to the poison cabinet which you had slipped off the ring.

Then how do you explain that the key of the poison cabinet was found on the key

ring in Percival's pocket after he was dead?

It happened something like this.

When you returned to Park Lodge, you found the doctor there and Percival

dead.

You still had the key in your possession when the doctor asked to look in the

cabinet.

You were clever enough to tell him that the keys were in Percival's pocket.

You removed them and handed them to you to open the cabinet.

You held them in your palm in such a way that the loose key appeared to be

attached to the ring as you turned the lock.

While the doctor was examining the poison bottles, you covertly reattached

the key to the ring.

The doctor himself returned the bunch to the dead man's pocket, where it was

found when the police arrived.

I don't suggest you acted as you did in order to incriminate your husband.

At the time, you were only interested in contriving the appearance of a suicide.

When that became impossible, the other plan was worked out.

A gamble.

And the strategy succeeded, and had you received a pardon, we couldn't even have

brought a charge of perjury later.

Not for one syllable of that confession.

It was absolutely true.

Thank you, Mom, for hearing me out.

Miriam Cromer needed something quite remarkable to save her from the gallows.

I believe Allingham and Cromer set up the whole scheme.

With Howard on the run like a guilty man, we would have to obtain an

extradition order, which meant we would have to arrange a pardon for Miriam

Cromer. As soon as she was pardoned, Howard would surrender to the police. He

would announce that he had an alibi for the morning of the crime, and Simon

Allingham would confirm it.

But that would confirm his wife's guilt.

Autre foi convict.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, don't you have, French sir?

A legal expression dating back to common law.

A person cannot be tried twice for the same crime.

Even if we knew Miriam Cromer was a murderess and brought her up before a

magistrate, she could plead autrefois convict and walk out a free woman.

I am aware of the law, Sergeant. It was the terminology which escaped me. Yes,

sir.

Very cunning idea, sir.

Not easy to unravel.

Oh, didn't you think so, Sergeant?

And, uh, what about Judith Honeycutt?

How I believe Miriam Cromer murdered her just like she murdered Percival, sir.

Two murders, eh?

Well, at that time, she was determined to get Howard Cromer for herself, sir.

Sergeant, I salute you.

I believe we have played our cards extremely well.

Toby, did you ever really think that she was innocent?

Well, I'm always inclined to give a pretty woman the benefit of the doubt,

sir. Yeah.