Original subtitles

Say that again. Say that again!

There.

I feel like Brigitte Bardot

driving through the French Riviera.

I see you as more as Marilyn speeding down Route 66.

Oh, Marilyn.

Old-school glamour with a surprisingly racy engine.

Marilyn!

That is the perfect name for her.

Though I still don't quite know what I've done to deserve it.

You agreed to live in sin with me for the rest of our lives,

and that makes me very happy.

Mm. Me too.

I actually have a little surprise for you too, James.

Well?

What do you see?

A... chapel.

Correct.

Agatha... I thought we agreed marriage wasn't for us.

Oh, yes. Uh, we did.

You passed?

I did... with flying colors,

and I'm now officially Agatha Raisin, P.I.

I am so proud of you.

This isn't just mine, James.

This is ours.

I want you to know that.

Well, in that case... come here.

Oh!

We're gonna do everything properly this time.

What do you reckon, Aggie?

Oh, down a bit to the left.

Perfect. Ooh!

The electrician signed off on the multisensory light room.

I've laid the meditation lawn.

I'm getting more giant beanbags for the chill-out zone,

and I've ordered the slide.

Slide?

Yes, for the balcony.

Distraction activities inspire creativity.

We go live at 10:00. I've got the champagne.

- Where are the others? - They'll be here.

Roy was between projects,

and I persuaded him to come and help me with the interior.

Yes. I can see his signature flair for the... unorthodox.

Well, I've always worked in spaces

designed to excite and challenge preconceptions.

But this isn't London, Agatha.

You think it's over the top?

No.

I think it's doing just what you want it to do...

Challenging my preconceptions.

I think it's perfect.

Can you grab the glasses, James?

Hi!

Hello!

This looks amazing!

It's very...

you, Agatha.

Uh, let me add this to the mix.

Sure you're all right with all this...

You know, me being official competition and everything?

Well, I prefer collaborator, if you're up for it,

with your famous intuition and my resources.

You scratch my back and all that.

Exactly.

As long as we keep Wilkes firmly out of the picture.

I think that sounds like a plan.

Champagne, everyone. It's launch time.

It's gonna be crazy busy, Aggie, just the way you like it.

Countdown's begun.

Five...

four, three,

two, one!

We have liftoff.

I just don't understand it, Aggie.

I've done tons of marketing... Online, local press.

Not a dickeybird.

Well, maybe all the criminals are on holiday.

I don't know.

I mean, I for one... I'm in Mexico.

I can feel the sun shining down on me,

waves rushing at my feet... Aah!

I know what we should do.

Set up a crime and just solve it ourselves.

I'm not killing someone to get your business on its feet.

Not murder. I'm not talking about murder.

Just something that looks really bad,

and then it's... "Agatha Raisin saves the day."

Yeah, and Roy gets arrested and does five years.

No, thanks.

I might have the solution to our problem.

Ivy Hall has long been of interest

to the ghost-hunting fraternity.

Any idea why?

So Geoffrey Lamont, murdered there in 1651.

His ghost has stalked the corridors ever since.

So why all the fuss now?

Unexplained paranormal activity on a much grander scale.

Owner Olivia Witherspoon says she's terrified for her life,

and the police are refusing to get involved.

Which she's none too happy about, by the look of her.

Which is where we come in.

We convince her that we can solve the mystery, which we do.

Roy does a massive PR job on it...

National press, TV interviews... And the agency's up and running.

You've had a good idea, James. Must be a first.

Aggie?

I say let's go bust us some ghosts.

I've got a bad feeling about this, James.

There aren't any ghosts, Agatha.

There'll be a perfectly rational explanation.

Mrs. Witherspoon?

Hello?

Oh!

Try again. I definitely saw someone.

Mrs. Witherspoon?

We just want a few minutes of your time.

No press, no psychics,

and no more bloody ghost hunters!

We do understand, Mrs. Witherspoon.

We know you're going through a terrible experience.

And we think we may able to help you.

You're that ghastly amateur sleuth

with the disgustingly low-neck clients and even lower morals.

Well, I, uh, I don't see anyone else

queuing up to offer their services,

but, uh, if you're determined to suffer alone, so be it.

Right.

Fox looks strangely like you.

Has the same teeth.

What's wrong with my teeth?

Get a damn move on, will you?

I have no confidence that a woman of your low intelligence

will be able to bring this nightmare to an end.

But desperate times call for desperate measures.

- Well, I think... - When did all this start,

Mrs. Witherspoon?

1651, when Sir Geoffrey Lamont was murdered

in this very room with that very musket.

His ghost has been rumored to haunt Ivy Hall ever since.

And why was he murdered?

Well, after the Royalist defeat at Titley's Knob,

Lamont went on the run with his manservant.

But he knew that Cromwell's lynch mob

wouldn't be far behind.

So he took refuge here, did he?

Well, Sir William Braseph was a loyal supporter of the king.

He was happy to give them sanctuary.

But the Roundheads caught up with him.

Yes, but not before... Or so legend has it...

Lamont entrusted his men with all of his possessions,

including a cache of priceless treasure.

He was caught hours later empty-handed.

It was assumed he'd managed to hide it

somewhere on this estate.

And it's never been found?

Nor is there any proof it ever existed.

But it's made Ivy Hall a destination

for every plundering, treasure-hunting lunatic

for the past four centuries.

Can't you tell us a little more about this haunting?

I mean... what exactly happens?

As the grandfather clock strikes 9:00, it begins...

Whispers, footsteps, terrible, otherworldly cries...

and then a deadly mist engulfs the house,

reaching under my door with its evil tendrils,

trying to smother me.

And you think this is Lamont's ghost

tormenting you from beyond the grave?

Of course I bloody don't.

Someone's trying to scare me to death, quite literally.

Who would do that? And why?

Oh, if I knew the answer to that,

I wouldn't be wasting my valuable time

with door-stepping chancers like you, now, would I?

I propose that we stage an all-night vigil,

see if we can catch whoever is doing this in the act.

No fee if we fail...

£3,000 plus expenses if we succeed.

Well, that's tantamount to extortion.

But I'd do anything to end this nightmare.

However, I'm not feeding you.

And I'll know if you've helped yourselves

to the drinks cabinet.

Professionals, Mrs. Witherspoon.

Wouldn't dream of drinking on the job, would we?

Olivia is in bed. Doors all bolted.

- Agatha. - What?

Oh, pbht!

Miserable old bat will never know.

Might be the only thing we get out of this evening.

We've got a lot of ground to cover, so I suggest we split up.

You take the ground floor.

What?

James, I'm not going anywhere on my own.

Have you never seen "Scooby-Doo"?

Oh.

Ugh.

James?

James, what are those noises?

Wouldn't want to get in a fight with these guys.

Those pikes can do a lot of damage.

Agatha asked us to talk to the locals,

but I doubt these guys are from Hebberdon.

What are they doing here?

There's a big battle reenactment up at Charles' place.

They started setting up camp this morning.

Well, we'll have to make do with the landlord, then.

How do you do? I'll be right with you.

Uh... Uh, hide me.

Oh, who's that?

Robin Barley, commander of the Crossed Swords.

We're supposed to be recruiting peasants and bawds

from the ladies' side, and they're not keen.

And she's really forceful.

- Barry. - Hey.

Just checking to see the mead order has arrived.

Got to keep the troops well watered.

Ten barrels, Commander.

I'll drop off at camp tomorrow, all right?

Mrs. Bloxby. Almost didn't see you there.

Have you got your numbers up?

I'll be over tomorrow to check the final tally.

Ironside.

Sorry about that. What can I get you?

Two white wines, please.

This is a very intriguing story. Any truth in it?

I very much doubt it.

You don't believe in ghosts?

No.

Don't believe Olivia Witherspoon

or the stories, the howls, and the blood-curdling screams.

But you know what I reckon?

She's doing it all herself just for the hell of it.

The stories I can tell you about that attention-seeking...

Can we buy you a drink... Barry?

I really don't like this at all, James.

Just stay close.

- Okay. - Perfectly safe with me.

Okay.

The sounds come from everywhere... and nowhere.

You mean like something supernatural...

like real ghosts?

No.

What I'm saying is it doesn't make sense... yet.

Oh!

Until a few weeks ago,

she claimed she'd never even seen Lamont's ghost.

Now we're supposed to believe Ivy Hall

is like something out of "The Amityville Horror."

But why would she lie?

Just for the sake of it.

There's nothing that vindictive old cow won't do

- to cause trouble. - Wow.

You really don't like her, do you?

Ain't only me, mate.

She's targeted everyone in the village at some time or other.

Targeted how?

False allegations, vandalism, slander.

I've been investigated for lock-ins,

noise pollution, food standards, tax evasion.

Olivia Witherspoon is pure evil.

Sorry, Carol.

Didn't mean to insult your mum to your face.

Why not? It's all true.

Large glass of merlot, please.

Make that a bottle.

See?

What exactly are we looking for?

I don't know.

Just something...

that would explain...

why anyone would go to such lengths to frighten her.

What the hell are these?

She has been spying on everyone in the village.

This is vicious stuff... Complaints, accusations,

calls to the police, all timed and dated, going back years.

Here's her latest entry.

What's that?

It's a letter from a Percy Fleming,

upping his offer to buy Ivy Hall for the third time.

Well, someone seems very keen to get their hands on this place.

Cheers.

Oi, Perce. Pint of blacks?

And a bag of pork scratchings, uh, large.

Carol, how's things?

No love lost there, then.

Sorry about that, mate.

She's her mother's daughter, all right.

It's all right. I'm used to it.

Hey, you see any supernatural activity on your way over?

The hall's all lit up, if that counts.

Olivia must have visitors.

Only people with friends have visitors, mate.

She ain't got none of them 'round here.

So Percy wants to buy Ivy Hall, but he's losing patience.

So what does he do?

He steps it up a gear,

wages a campaign of terror in order to force her hand.

You really think anyone would go that far?

Well, at this stage, it's all we've got.

James, look.

There'll be some... perfectly rational explanation.

Yeah.

No need for alarm.

It's just an illusion, Agatha... designed to fill you with fear.

It's working.

Mrs. Raisin!

Where on earth do you think you're going?

Well, that was humiliating.

We made a complete and utter fool of ourselves.

It wasn't a total waste of time.

We found out about Percy Fleming.

Whatever it is you're selling, I'm not interested, I'm afraid.

But you are interested in buying Ivy Hall.

You'd better come in.

I was just a humble I.T. support worker.

Games writing was just my hobby.

Until "Beasts of the Abyss" became a global phenomenon.

Mm. Making you wealthy enough to buy Ivy Hall.

H-How do you know about that... If you don't mind me asking?

Jammy dodger?

Thank you.

Uh, Olivia Witherspoon thinks

that someone is trying to force her out of her own house.

And when we came across your letter,

you became a person of interest to us.

Well, I-I've always loved Ivy Hall,

the history surrounding it.

Never dreamed I might be able to afford it one day.

Mm.

Must be terribly frustrating for you,

Olivia refusing to sell.

She thinks I've worked out

where Lamont's famous treasure is hidden.

Ah. Well, that would make it worth buying, wouldn't it?

People have searched the estate for years,

scoured the house, the grounds,

tried to find the secret passage.

There's no historical evidence it ever existed.

What made you think that she would accept your third offer?

Well, her son, Harry.

Garibaldi?

He claims his mother needs to sell for financial reasons,

told me to deal with him direct to avoid any embarrassment.

But, well, that set off alarm bells.

Why?

You've probably heard of the, uh, Crossed Swords.

The what what?

Olivia hates them,

refuses to allow any reenactments on the estate.

When Harry joined up,

their relationship broke down completely.

Oh. And you are a member of the, uh, Crossed Swords?

I'm the historical consultant.

I know all the battle moves,

but I'm... I'm not really built for combat.

So you thought Harry was taking advantage of her.

Exactly. So I made my offer direct.

Olivia she had absolutely no intention of selling to anyone.

Screamed down the phone

that she'd call the police if I didn't stop harassing her.

So Harry was lying.

Who knows?

Olivia Witherspoon is a law unto herself

and an expert manipulator.

I'd walk away now, while you still have the chance.

Custard cream?

No, thank you.

Oh, my God!

Oh!

Oh, Marilyn!

What have they done to you?

It's not just that, I'm afraid.

"Cnun... mauqniler te et rairom"?

Nunc relinquam te et moriar.

It's Latin... "Leave now or die."

Someone reported a vandalized car.

Thought it sounded like yours.

But then I thought,

"What on earth would Agatha be doing in Hebberdon?"

Well, we just fancied a little drive, didn't we, James?

You know, different views... fresher air.

All right. So you weren't...

I don't know... Ghost hunting up at Ivy Hall?

We may have had a teeny, wee look.

Why? Do you have a problem with that?

No. I suppose ghosts are an improvement on fairies.

What's next? Vampires? Zombies?

Little green men in flying saucers?

Mm.

You may mock, Bill Wong,

but a vulnerable elderly woman is frightened for her life,

and you lot have done nothing about it.

So we have stepped into the breach, my friend.

Yeah. Well, good luck with that.

Olivia Witherspoon has form as a troublemaker.

You're wasting your time.

When you say Olivia has got form, what do you mean?

Yeah. What do you mean?

Come on, Bill.

We had a deal. Remember?

And you are gonna tell me everything.

Call me when these clowns have gone, will you?

Yes, Mr. Devere.

Oh!

After you.

Thank you.

Thanks.

That was Florian Devere. I've got all his books.

- Who? - Florian Devere.

The TV history guy...

"Henry VIII: Tudor's Tortured Terrorist"?

Never mind him.

What are all this lot doing in here?

Oh! Excuse me.

Do you mind just watching what you're doing

with your spear thing?

- Oh! - Aw!

Can you just keep that dog under control, please?

- Shouldn't be allowed in a bar. - Hey.

That dog never leaves my side.

So if you don't like it, maybe you should leave.

Good boy!

Come on. Come here.

Good God. What's that?

Good morrow, Mistress Raisin.

Verily, 'tis a most pleasant surprise.

The Crossed Swords are up at Charles' place.

D.C.I. Wilkes is a Roundhead captain and the executioner.

Splendid. We should go, Agatha.

No. No.

Just no to... Don't ever ask me again.

Well?

Well, Olivia has definitely got more enemies than friends.

And they all reckon she staged the haunting herself.

Oh. What about my car?

She do that as well in broad daylight?

Olivia Witherspoon has a record of antisocial behavior,

including vandalism and graffiti.

So our vulnerable OAP is the Banksy of Hebberdon

and all-around badass?

Respect.

Right, then!

Got a text from Commander Barley!

Pike formation drill in half an hour!

Time to muster yourselves, lads!

All right. Thank you. I've got a text message, too.

All right. Um... Ah.

If any of our good gentlefolk are free this very eve,

then there will be a mead-and-mutton social

for all new members.

Also, uh, peasant women and old hags are particularly welcome.

Oh, Aggie, you should go.

Sorry, Roy.

No one's permitted to touch these but me.

- They're just toys, James. - Correction.

They're rare and valuable vintage armies.

I've been collecting them since I was a boy.

- Yeah... to play with like toys. - No.

To re-create and relive the key strategic decisions

of history's most famous battles.

Mum's still got my Action Man in the loft, I think.

Perhaps I should bring them over for a gay date...

Sorry. Play date.

What on earth are you doing?

- Setting up my own re-enactment. - On my dining table?

I put up with your hideous scented candles

and Tibetan monks chanting on repeat.

We're supposed to be working.

I'm just not sure Olivia is worthy of any more of our time.

You're probably right.

I know what it's like to be an outsider,

unloved and vilified by an entire community.

So you're identifying with a loathsome, vindictive maniac?

Mm. Not so much of a stretch on a bad day.

I am simply saying that everyone deserves a second chance.

I mean, I think we're living proof of that, James.

What exactly are you suggesting?

That Ivy Hall is like Fort Knox.

There's absolutely no evidence of a break-in.

Which makes sense if Olivia is doing it by herself.

But not if she isn't.

What if there is a secret passage outside

leading directly into the house somewhere?

But if it's so secret, how do you propose we find it?

If something doesn't happen soon,

I might have to go for chips.

Yeah. I thought you might go peckish, so...

What's all this?

Well, it is a date night,

and you're always saying how unromantic I am.

Oh, and there was I,

thinking you loved your little toy soldiers more than me.

Well, if you force me to choose...

I look just as good in a uniform,

and they definitely can't do this.

Enemy at 3 o'clock.

Operation Back Passage is go.

Back Passage? Seriously, James?

Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.

Still can't believe what Roy did to Cromwell.

Oh. He was just messing about.

Mm.

Right.

I will see you later.

Where are you going?

Emergency meeting of the Ladies Society.

What about me?

"What about me?" Mm.

James, it's just a snotty cold. I'm sure you will be fine.

What was that?

Maybe someone saw us at the window

and they followed us home.

Maybe they know where we live!

Then they started a battle they're not going to win.

Aah! Haven't you got a baseball bat or something?

It was the best I could do given the circumstances.

Shh!

Oh.

Oh, this is a proper jinx.

I'm sure that that went in that... Oh!

Oh.

Sorry about the mess.

I was trying to use my initiative,

which is never really a good plan.

Um...

Toni, Gemma's cousin. She asked me to cover.

Just... shut it off. You... Yeah.

Shivering's started again. Going back to bed.

Nice lounge wear, by the way.

W-Where is Gemma, by the way?

Oh, your neck of the woods. Ireland.

Yeah. She's gone camping with her new bloke.

This is my Gemma we're talking about, is it?

The one that won't go outside unless there's a barbecue?

Oh, to be fair, Caleb is totally ripped.

And she knows it's always raining in Ireland,

so she's banking on being in a tent with him 24/7.

Mm.

Does she not have a daughter or something?

Oh, Kyra. She's at her nan's getting spoiled.

So, I mean, everyone's happy.

- Yeah. Yeah. - Right.

I'd better crack on and get this mess cleared up.

Oh.

Oh, God.

- Right. - Agatha?

Yes?

- Agatha! - No. No, no.

Mother?

As you can see from my photographs,

the Crossed Swords are passionate

about re-enacting battles that reflect local history,

the next being the infamous Battle of Titley's Knob.

Sounds like one of them mucky pornos.

What?

Mr. Boggle's a bit of an enthusiast.

But the turnout from Carsely was very disappointing.

So I'm here, as commander-in-chief,

to redress the balance.

I thought you said this was an emergency.

- You wouldn't come otherwise. - You were right.

We don't just need soldiers.

We need brawlers, drunkards, painted ladies.

Oh, I-I welcome your enthusiasm, Mrs. Raisin,

but, uh, harlots died at 30 in the 17th century.

But you'd make a wonderful pox-ridden harridan.

We try to be as historically accurate as possible.

Mrs. Bloxby tells me that Mr. Lacey is also very keen.

And we're a musketeer down

since Mr. Boggle's gun backfired in his privates.

A blessing in disguise in many ways.

Uh, can we count on his participation?

Uh, I think you'll find

that Mr. Lacey is a little indisposed at the moment.

He is... gravely ill.

He's looking very good out there.

- What? - We have to go.

- Where? - Now.

- Why? - Olivia Witherspoon is dead.

Well, thank you for that. Bye.

So Bill thinks it was an accident.

- You clearly don't. - No, I don't.

Far too much of a coincidence.

So Roy is going to get in touch with Carol Witherspoon

and get her take on things.

Sarah, who has just been elected to the parish council,

can look into any recent sales or planning issues,

because we are looking for a motive, James.

Well, if it is murder,

our torch-bearing Cavalier must be a prime suspect.

What does Bill think?

You did tell Bill about it, didn't you, Agatha?

And give away our best lead when he mocked me so mercilessly?

I think not, James.

That's my P.I. of the Year award!

That is irreplaceable!

I'm so sorry, Agatha. I'll get you a new one.

- Aah! Aah! - Yeah. No... Yeah.

Uh, there was a wine stain. Um, I got it out, but...

You used bleach on aniline leather?

I know. I know.

I didn't really think it through.

What was the last thing I said to you?

Uh... not to touch it under any circumstances.

And... And I didn't, technically.

- I sort of just used that... - No. D...

Where the hell is Cromwell?

Uh, the cat run off with something.

I just thought it was a spider.

I don't suppose you'll want me back, Agatha.

First sensible thing you've said all day.

Oh, God.

Yes, Roy.

Well, just try and find her.

Someone must know where she is.

Try the village shop.

Try the post office.

So Roy can't find Carol.

What about her brother? Henry?

Harry. Harry Witherspoon.

We don't know where he lives either, do we?

Harry Witherspoon?

Bladon Antiques, Cherry Lane, Little Fakenham...

GR53 3NF.

How did you do that?

I, uh, worked in debt collection,

and his name came up a lot.

It's... It's a bit of a party trick.

You don't perchance know a Carol Witherspoon, do you?

3 Rut's End, Cassius Lane, Hebberdon...

GR54 3LW.

Uh, it's owned by the council.

I-I worked in rent collection.

You get around.

Yeah. I've never kept a job for more than three weeks.

I promised Gem I wouldn't mess this up.

She's gonna kill me.

Yeah. We'll just say it didn't "work out."

Roy, I think we may have just found Carol.

Hi.

Ooh!

You ghastly little git! Piss off!

Come inside before they improve their aim.

Bye.

I wouldn't normally entertain vultures from the gutter press,

but they might actually kill you.

I'm not a journalist.

Your mother and my mother were friends.

She asked me to convey her sincerest condolences.

Well, she needn't have bothered.

Her death was a happy accident.

You didn't like her very much?

That's an understatement.

Trouble is, everyone's convinced I'm tarred with the same brush.

Uh, sorry.

I must apologize for my impoverished surroundings.

But it was all I could afford

once I finally had the guts to leave.

What happened?

I just couldn't take another minute of her vile cruelty.

Mother always said she'd cut me off without a penny if I left.

And she was true to her word.

So who inherits now?

Harry, my weasel brother.

Made his escape years ago and left me to rot.

And I'll never forgive him.

But why cut you off and not him?

She convinced herself he'd come crawling back,

but I knew he'd never have the balls to face her.

The reports said that you found the body.

Yeah. I used to check up on her once a week.

I knew no one else would.

Do you believe that she fell?

It was locked from the inside, there was no sign of a break-in,

and I'm the only one with a key.

She must have just lost her balance

after her customary bottle of malt.

So you don't buy into this whole haunting story, then?

Mother made the whole thing up

to lure Harry and I back into her web.

- Mm. - She fell, clear and simple.

Maybe there is a god after all.

You said your mother was a friend of hers.

But Mother didn't have any friends.

School friends, way before your time.

I'd better go.

Bye.

I don't believe it.

What?

Agatha, he's got an 1847 Cromwell in pristine condition.

Come on.

About to close, I'm afraid.

I've got a cavalry charge practice.

Oh. Another good re-enactment.

In fact, the Battle of Titley's Knob...

That has got to be one of my top 10 favorites of all time.

Yes.

If there's anything you're particularly interested in,

uh, give me a call.

- Witherspoon? - Yes. That's right.

Don't suppose you're related to Olivia Witherspoon, are you?

Yes. She's my... Well, she was my mother, yeah.

Ah. Condolences.

She was an exceptional woman.

Oh, you knew her, did you?

Sadly, only briefly.

Yes. She gave us a call when the police refused to investigate.

Well, she wasted your time.

I mean, my mother was losing her mind, you know.

Probably dementia.

But she was a proud woman who would have hated her decline.

Uh, the fall was a blessing.

Mm. Mm.

Now, if you don't mind, I've, uh...

When did you last see your mother, Harry?

As I said, I really do have to go, so...

I don't suppose I could have a quick look at Cromwell.

No!

Wow. Excuse us.

Carol seems 100% sure her death was an accident.

Pbht! Well, that's the story she'd have you believe.

But what would Carol gain from killing her?

Her mother had cut her out of the will,

left everything to Harry.

Yeah. He was very defensive when we mentioned her.

He lied to the planning department.

He told them he had power of attorney over the estate.

Oh, Olivia would never give up her power to anyone.

Especially not Harry.

They've been estranged for years.

And it seems Percy Fleming was not the only potential buyer.

Other interested parties had inquired

about extending change of use.

Well, we know that he needed money.

How do we know this?

Because Toni saw his name on a list

at a debt-collecting agency.

- Uh... - Don't ask.

How much did he owe and how fast did he need it?

Fast enough to have to murder his mother?

If indeed it was murder.

When do we get the pathologist's verdict?

This afternoon.

I never gave you permission to use my collectibles!

Do you want to solve this or do you not, James?

Murder by person or persons unknown.

I knew it.

Olivia's neck was broken by a blow, not a fall,

her body placed under the balcony

to make it look like she fell.

So that's that, then. Back to the drawing board.

I'm not giving up now!

- Our client is dead, Aggie. - Exactly!

Which makes for an even better, bigger story

if we find out who did it.

Right.

Olivia Witherspoon, owner of Ivy Hall.

Our number-one suspect, Harry Witherspoon.

Wow. Nice pad, Aggie.

Very down with the kids.

Yeah. We're just a little bit busy right now, Charles.

Oh, can I play? You know how I love an investigation.

I thought you had a civil war to organize.

Yes, I do. But I am the king, you see?

So I just have to waft around, waving my handkerchief.

Plus, I know the victim.

Ivy Hall borders the Barfield Estate.

Oh. Well, in that case, what did you think of Olivia?

Ah. Ghastly woman.

Do you know she tried to accuse me of seducing her?

I mean, as if.

So Harry tries to kill his mother

with a blow to the throat,

making it looked like she'd fallen from the balcony.

Uh, there's no evidence

to suggest Harry murdered his mother.

And why bother setting up the haunting?

Well, one can die of fright, you know.

I nearly did when I saw the inheritance-tax bill

- after Daddy died. - "Daddy"?

Harry underestimates his mother's fortitude

and has to finish the job.

But... he has an alibi.

Witnesses place Harry

at the Mutton and Mead event in camp all that night.

It's bad news for Harry either way.

He can't sell Ivy Hall until the case is solved.

All right.

Enter suspect number two...

Carol Witherspoon, who faked the entire haunting

so that her mother could feel the fear

that she'd inflicted on her for her entire life.

And then killed her.

But how? I still don't think she's capable.

Then, of course, we've got the entire village of Hebberdon,

including Barry Briar, persecuted pub landlord,

and Percy Fleming,

who himself was desperate to get his mitts on Ivy Hall.

Yes, but the trouble is,

we have no real evidence against any of them.

We need to understand the layout of the house

and the surrounding grounds,

find out where a possible secret passageway could be.

What about Barfield's architectural collection?

Surely Ivy Hall is in there.

It is indeed, but those awful heritage people

have barred me from my own plan room.

What? Why?

Charles spilled port on some Christopher Wren originals.

Oh, come on, Charles. You never play by the rules.

Look. Without their patronage, my ticket sales will plummet.

But nobody would know.

Look...

Thank you.

I can't risk it, and that's an end of it.

Oh, well, thank you for nothing, Charles.

Well, fine.

I know when I'm not wanted.

What about a Cavalier with a torch?

The one we saw on the night she died.

- What Cavalier? - Yeah. What Cavalier?

- Did I not mention the Cavalier? - You definitely didn't.

Well, I did mention...

We share everything, Agatha. That was the deal.

Yes, yes, yes.

I'll share it with you later, then.

Yeah.

Sarah, you've been to the camp.

How easy is it to get the uniforms?

Mrs. Boggle signs them in and out, but she's not there 24/7.

All right. So pretty much anyone could be our mystery Cavalier.

What about Lamont's treasure?

Fleming said that it was a hoax, but what if it wasn't?

It'd be worth a fortune by now.

It'd certainly give him a motive.

Plus, we don't really know if we can trust Percy, do we?

Florian Devere would have an opinion on that.

No one knows more about the Civil War period than he does.

We should pay him a visit.

Sorry to, uh, interrupt, but I found this in my pocket.

Cromwell!

I, uh, couldn't find his horse, so I borrowed this one off Kyra.

Oh, it's perfect. Isn't it, James?

I'm, uh, I'm sorry about... About everything.

Just...

Well, um, actually, Toni...

I might need someone to go undercover.

I'll do anything.

I mean trial period only, obviously.

No promises, but...

When do I start?

Good morrow, comely wench.

Wither wander thou?

Thou seemest lost... eth.

I'm looking for Sir Charles Fraith.

Oh, thou speaks of His Majesty, the king, forsooth.

Yeah.

Well, he lies within his chamber hence.

Seek and ye shall find.

- Cheers. - No worries.

Weird.

Look at the size of his dojo.

Oh.

Oh, he loves himself, doesn't he?

As you're being so negative,

I think I should ask the questions.

He'll open up a lot more easily if he thinks I fancy him,

not you.

But I do not fancy him.

James, that is your hero.

It would be as if I met Madonna.

I would be sweating, talking gibberish.

I may even lose control of my bladder a wee bit.

It wouldn't be good.

Go away. Go.

Ooh. Sorry. I-I think I'm intruding.

No. Not at all. How can I help?

Uh, well, I'm... I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't really be here.

But a friend...

I just wanted to say thank you for, uh...

Oliver Cromwell's warts.

Oh. Uh, "Cromwell: Warts and All."

Yes. Sorry. Uh, of course.

Just that I'm, uh, ridiculously nervous to...

Oh. Um, please come in.

Oh. Thank you.

Oh.

What lovely legs you've got, Sir Charles.

They're slim, but they're shapely.

And that garter, it just sets them off to perfection.

Oh, yes. It does, doesn't it?

And here it is... Your crowning glory.

Ah!

Oh.

- Oh, yes. - Oh.

Oh, yes.

Oh, very Russell Brand in his heyday.

Dirty, filthy bad boy.

Yeah. I was thinking more, uh... Oh, what's her name?

Cher.

After she'd had all the surgery.

May I help you, young lady?

Um, yeah.

Um, I'm, um, doing a project on Barfield House

for the Ladies Society.

Um, I know it sounds a bit cheeky,

but I just wondered if I could have a little poke around.

I could give you a mini tour if you'd like.

Oh. Thanks, Charlie.

Oh. Am I all right to call you that?

You look totally lush in that wig, by the way.

Excuse us. Shall we?

Through there?

The door, yes.

- I'm sorry to keep you. - Ooh!

I was feeling a little, uh, underdressed.

- Oh. - I don't even know your name.

Oh. Well, it is...

Agatha.

Agatha. Agatha Raisin!

- Mm. - Our famous local sleuth.

I hope I'm not in any trouble.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Not at all.

I just wanted some of your historical expertise,

if you will, with regard to the late Olivia Witherspoon.

Ah, yes. Poor Olivia.

Yes. Poor Olivia.

You know, how much do you know about the history of Ivy Hall,

Lamont's murder, that kind of thing?

Just some general information.

Excuse me.

Um, sorry to bother you,

but I was waiting outside for Agatha

and realized I had one of your books in the car.

Could you spare me a minute to sign it?

- Of course. Come in. - Thank you.

Uh, who shall I dedicate it to?

James. James Lacey.

I can't begin to tell you what an honor it is to meet you.

I've got all your books, DVDs.

You're a total inspiration.

You're very kind.

I'm a historian myself. Military.

"Raid Over Romford"?

It's on my wish list.

I thought I recognized your name.

Please stay.

Oh, it'd be an honor, Mr. Devere.

Florian, please.

The staircase dates from 1720,

when the house was extensively remodeled.

And here... is Charles II himself.

So he's a relative of yours?

Can't you see the resemblance?

Well, you're much fitter.

I think so, too.

And here is dear Nell Gwyn with her marvelous oranges.

You deserve a Nell, Charlie, someone to share an orange with.

I mean, you're still pretty fit.

Ah, Toni.

If only I were 10 years younger.

Twenty.

Fifteen?

Yeah, deal. Um, who's next?

Ah. Now, this is naughty Uncle Algie.

Now, there's a story.

The whole legend surrounding the mystery of Lamont

has always fascinated me, James.

In fact, I did some research for a potential documentary.

Murder, missing treasure, ghosts...

Makes for a pretty compelling pitch.

But, um, alas, there wasn't enough evidence.

But I thought that...

Percy Fleming mentioned there were rumors of a secret passage.

I conducted an extensive search of the property.

Found nothing to suggest that's even remotely true.

Fleming writes video games.

He lives in a fantasy world.

Well, as a fellow historian,

you'll understand that I rely purely on evidence.

Yes, but surely if the...

Percy claims to be historical consultant

to the Crossed Swords.

Bunch of cosplaying half-wits who give history a bad name.

Percy and I aren't the best of friends.

Oh. H-Have you finished?

Right. Question.

Does Lamont's treasure exist or does it not?

Sadly, I think not.

History is full of stories we'd all rather believe

than disprove.

Uh-huh. Right.

Well, I think we've taken up far too much of your time.

So...

James, shall we?

I could, uh, drop off a copy of my book, if you'd like.

I'd love to know what you think.

Oh, we could have dinner maybe.

I'd love that.

Yeah.

So, um, we've got the, uh, china collection

and the domed ceiling.

I think you've seen everything important now.

Ooh. Apart from the, uh, architectural collection.

Yes.

That's in there.

Unfortunately, I no longer have the key.

Ah.

I could take the hem of your doublet up now

if you'd like, Your Majesty.

Well, I thought just another couple of inches.

Ooh. Saucy.

Not too much, is it?

And if you've got it, flaunt it.

Well, exactly.

So, um...

Do you mind if I have another look at your pictures?

Help yourself. I'll be right back.

I could do you four inches.

Oh, no. We don't want to frighten the horses.

Your Majesty!

Yes!

Uh, Toni?

Toni?

Toni?

As you can see, the photos are rubbish,

so I drew that one from memory.

That's what I call a superpower.

Not really. Things just sort of stick in my brain.

And that is the entire plan?

Yeah.

No little passageways from the house

to the grounds or anything?

No. That's it.

Mm.

I still think we should go back to Ivy Hall

and just check it out.

The police are all over it.

We could crash the wake.

Toni, you're a genius.

Have I got the job, then?

How are your waitressing skills?

Yeah. Yeah. Great.

Bang goes us keeping a low profile.

You look like an extra from "My Fair Lady."

Oh, shush.

Percy and Florian at 3 o'clock.

What are you doing here?

I've just come to pay my respects, obviously.

You're a clown, Percy.

He really doesn't like Percy at all, does he?

Carol doesn't seem to have time for either of them.

Here he comes... Harry.

Very good actor. I'll give him that.

I mean, this should be the happiest day of his life.

And if that is the case, what else is he lying about?

James, good to see you again.

And you, Anita.

- Agatha. - Of course.

We must sort out a date for that dinner, James.

That'd be lovely.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

Look at you. You two should get a room.

You're just jealous... Anita.

Those two look very friendly, don't they,

considering they're meant to hate each other's guts.

Oh, Percy, a little surprised to see you here.

Not sure I'd be quite so forgiving.

Oh, I wanted to pay my respects to the family.

We were still neighbors, after all.

Well, you could catch Carol now.

I don't really know her that well.

It's, um, Harry I want to see.

Excuse me.

He's not wasting any time, is he?

What do you mean?

He could put an offer in on Ivy Hall now.

Terribly convenient for both of them.

Drink, madam?

I don't mind if I do.

Well?

So far, so good.

Where's Roy?

Oh, they put him out the back on food prep.

He ain't happy.

This I have to see.

Just so you know, all the guests are here now.

Oh. Right.

Well, time to do a little snooping.

- Oh! - Oh!

- Oh! - So sorry!

Oh.

I'm so sorry.

What?

I think I found a back passage,

but not quite the one we were looking for.

This is way too risky.

We'll have to come back later, when the place is empty.

But we need a key.

We need a key.

What are you... What are you doing?!

You are supposed to be a kitchen professional!

You're gonna blow our cover!

That's all right for you, drinking shampoo

and mixing with the hoi polloi.

I have a good mind to fly back to New York, where I'm loved,

appreciated, and not a slave... very often.

Well, just you do that. Go on.

But first I need you to steal a set of keys for me.

Toni said she saw some in the pantry.

Do you think you can maybe do that for me, possibly,

without messing it up?

You see? That's called karma. Do you need a hand at all?

Missed.

I told Roy to get the key.

Psst! Aggie. Aggie.

They were talking about you. It sounded serious.

I told her to be more discreet.

Someone must have got wind.

Probably that wee man in the toilet.

Right. I think we should probably leave.

Uh, Ms. Raisin, may we have a word with you, please?

Yeah.

We brought you in here so that we wouldn't be disturbed.

We really don't want the police to be involved.

I just... I'm really very sorry. I-I got lost.

I was up your...

You know, the...

No harm done, eh?

You'll, uh, you'll not see me again.

Uh, no. Sorry.

I-I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding.

We don't want you to go anywhere.

The police are convinced we're guilty of our mother's murder.

They're not even looking for anyone else.

But we know we are innocent.

I thought you two loathed each other.

Well, after the inquest, we got drunk together,

realized Mother had deliberately

turned us against each other all our lives.

She wanted us at daggers drawn even after her death.

But I shall not give her that satisfaction.

The inheritance will be shared equally.

But that can't happen until the real murderer is found

and the case solved...

which is why we need you, Mrs. Raisin.

You'll be richly rewarded once the money is released.

Ah.

Well?

What?

Well, of course I said yes.

But it just doesn't feel right,

the two of them being bosom buddies all of a sudden.

Well, I don't trust either of them.

I reckon they're definitely hiding something.

Well, the key to the mystery is in that house.

And we now have a key.

Oh, what are you doing?

The noises are definitely coming from this area.

Don't antagonize them, then!

There must be a trapdoor...

Oh!

A door in the paneling or something.

- This way. - Okay.

Come on. Stay close.

Aah! No!

Where are you? I c... Where's the torch?

Where's the torch?!

What is it with all the foxes?!

Oh! Oh! What's happening?!

Oh!

Ooh. Ooh.

Aah!

Okay.

James... is that you?

Of course it's me.

Who else would it be? And why are you screaming?

You... You abandoned me!

Well, you didn't keep up!

Well, my torch broke!

Here. Take my spare.

Look, we're onto something.

There was a door in the panel.

And look. Smoke machine.

And this...

is our ghost.

What?

S-So... someone got in...

Someone got in here without being seen?

- But... who? - How?

God.

Oh.

Whoa.

Come on, love. Help me push this.

Weird.

It's like it's been stuck to the floor.

Come on. Pull.

Oh, my God.

Well, you were right.

I was.

It's incredible.

The air quality is starting to change.

Oh, yeah.

Must be getting close to an exit.

Mm.

What's that?

It's an old shaft.

Come on, James. Get me on your shoulders, then.

Is that really necessary?

Yes, it is really necessary,

because that might be our way out.

- Come on. - W-Wait.

Wait!

I thought you prided yourself on your catlike agility.

Wait.

Maybe you should get down to a gym.

Oh!

I think... I can see a ladder.

Oh!

Aah!

Aah!

Oh, God.

Oh.

Ugh.

Oh.

What the hell is this?

Don't mind that.

Let's find that ladder.

Oh. James, wait for me!

Oh, God.

I'll go first.

Okay.

- Hold tight. - Mm-hmm.

Oh.

Oh.

Ugh.

First you pelt me with rocks,

then you shower me with what smells like excrement.

No one calls me a clumsy lummox

when they can't even touch their toes

or stand on one leg anymore.

That is utter rubbish.

Look.

Well, I bet you can't do this.

Agatha.

I thought there wasn't supposed to be anyone at the house!

There's not.

We need to leave.

We found a secret passage.

What?

And... this.

Tell them whose it is.

It is Sir Geoffrey Lamont's.

Oh, the murdered Civil War guy. That's awesome.

It's his journal.

Oh, maybe there's a clue about the treasure.

His descriptions of battles.

Well, come on. Skip to the back. Is there a map?

Uh, the last entry is 3rd of September 1651.

Well, that was the day he was murdered.

Read it, then, nerd.

"Though I am gone, our love lives on.

Priceless treasure safe in the broken heart of one dead

but standing still on the horizon.

But even the finest bloodstones, amethysts, rubies,

firestones, Indian emeralds, lapis, and diamonds

can never match the peerless beauty of your eyes."

It's hardly X marks the spot, is it?

He knew he was gonna die. This is some sort of riddle.

I'm good at that sort of stuff. I'll give it try.

Well, take a photo, and then we'll hide it somewhere.

I'm sorry, Agatha.

This is a document of huge historical importance.

We're obliged to turn it over to the authorities.

What, and get Aggie struck off

before she can solve the case of her life?

She'll get done for trespassing, tampering with evidence,

- being a nosy bi... - F-Fine. Fine.

But we've got to tell the police about the passage.

- It's key to the investigation. - Oh!

Well, we'll do it anonymously, then,

And then, uh, I don't know. I'll think of something.

It's almost curfew. I have to get back to camp.

- Anything on Harry? - Oh, his alibi seems watertight.

Anyone driving in or out of the camp after curfew

gets reported to the commander.

What if he was on foot?

Roy, can you just go back there with Sarah?

Just do a little bit of digging on Harry.

Just see how long it takes

to walk from Barfield House to Ivy Hall.

Mrs. Boggle!

Oh.

Mrs. Boggle!

What do you reckon, Mrs. Raisin?

One of our painted ladies did a runner.

It's not too much, is it?

No. Absolutely not.

I genuinely think it's rather stunning.

I keep telling her she should send the vicar a selfie.

That would keep his pecker up.

Presumably, you've got to really get it smashed down there.

Working hard?

We're not just polishing muskets, Aggie.

I timed the walk to Ivy Hall.

It's possible Harry made it there and back

- within the time frame. - Really?

Can we see if Robin Barley actually took any photographs

on the night of the murder?

Okay.

Where do they keep the uniforms?

Just...

Whoa!

I really can't help you any further, D.C. Wong,

but if anything comes to mind, I'll definitely be in touch.

Peasant man.

Dirty old peasant man.

Peasant man.

Dirty old man.

Yes.

That'll do us.

No, no, no. Oh.

I think we'll have this.

Harry Witherspoon.

Ah! Mistress Raisin.

What art thou doing in these foreign parts?

Um... Commander Barley thought it might be a good idea

if everyone just got a little bit more, you know, involved.

So I just thought I would come and have a look for a costume.

Oh, well. Verily, the more the merrier.

Oh, thou wouldst look most beauteous in, uh... this...

This little silken garment.

Mistress Raisin?

Mm. How about...

"Hello, love."

"Hello, sir."

Well, the button matches Harry's jacket,

which implicates him, but it doesn't prove anything.

Where's the note about the passage?

It's in the glove box.

All right. So Bill's car is a gray Audi.

Mm-hmm.

You sure you're all right with this?

I am.

Oh, yeah. Thank you.

Can I help?

Just checking out your photographs.

These are really, um, extraordinary.

Thank you.

I've also got some marvelous film footage.

Been shooting all week on a documentary idea.

Anything I could take a look at?

I mean, I work in PR, so I could probably help you out.

You know.

Can I help you?

Bill?

Toni?

It's Bill.

I haven't seen you since you threw up on my trainers

at Gemma's 18th.

How was I to know the fruit punch was 90% vodka?

I was 10.

- Can you give us a hand? - Oh.

You used to be a right chubster back then.

Gem used to call you Mr. Blubber Man.

Well, I've been to the gym since then.

Yeah. I can see that.

And you've... grown up.

Yeah.

Right. Well, then, I'd better...

'Cause...

If anyone says anything, you haven't seen me.

People are starting to ask questions,

and if it comes to that, I'm not going to lie for you.

Why should I protect you

after the despicable way you treated me?

I completely forgot about beheading rehearsals.

I'll be right with you.

Denzel Wilkes.

I'm very flattered, but you really must stop this.

Look, I've got to go. I promised to meet someone.

But thank you very much for the flowers.

There was a vase of flowers in the tent.

Police think someone put cyanide in the water.

Seriously? Cyanide?

That's not something you find in your kitchen cabinet, is it?

I did see a man in an executioner's costume

running away.

He's got to be a suspect.

Who plays the executioner?

D.C.I. Wilkes, so unlikely, I'd say.

Unless his extreme Method acting has taken him to the dark side.

How'd you get on with the riddle?

Yeah. It's a tough one to crack, but I'll get there.

Have you told Bill about the journal yet?

Uh... nah.

Bill's got enough on his plate.

What? We're so close to cracking this.

I think that a wee bit longer is not gonna do him any harm.

Sir, could I have a word?

Uh, 'tis a dastardly business, I grant thee.

I'm not quite sure how to put this.

Prithee, young man.

If it's wisdom thou seeketh,

though has cometh to the right place.

Actually I need to clear your name as a murder suspect.

Gadzooks.

Thou doth surely speak falsely, stout yeoman.

Hello, Harry.

Going somewhere?

Look, I know... I know this looks suspicious,

but it's... it's really not what it seems.

The mortgage company has finally foreclosed,

and so I-I have no option but to leave.

So...

Recognize this?

Um, it's a uniform button.

Yes, it is indeed...

That we found at Ivy Hall down in a cellar

next to the trapdoor leading to the passageway

that you said didn't exist.

I'm sorry.

I-I really don't know what you're talking about.

I saw your jacket, Harry.

It was missing a button... This button.

Well, m-my jacket was missing from the tent that night.

You know, I-I was in... I was in shirt sleeves.

I got into trouble with the commander.

I mean, the next morning, it... it had been returned.

I-I had just thought it was someone's simple mistake.

How many people have this same uniform button?

Well, no one.

Each button has its own rank and division.

You see, Robin Barley filmed the event you attended

the night your mother died.

The event that you claim that you were at all night.

You lied because according to that footage,

it proves that you were away for at least an hour and a half,

which would give you enough time to go back to Ivy Hall,

murder your mother, and then walk back to camp.

Look.

My mother was a cruel, hateful woman.

We were locked away, unloved, always found wanting.

She called me "girlie," "wet."

She sensed that I was gay, and she loathed me for it.

She even had a clause written into her will

that said if I ever came out, I wouldn't inherit a penny.

So what, she found out about your sexuality,

and you decided to kill her?

Okay. All right. Look.

I was at Ivy Hall that night, all right?

But I was in the grounds.

I was... I was with a man.

But we'd been seen.

Barry Briar and his metal detector.

And I knew he'd do anything to punish my mother,

so I begged him not to tell, and he agreed...

But for a price.

So he was blackmailing you?

Only till I couldn't pay anymore.

Then he called the police.

That's why they're coming for me now.

Harry!

You can't run away from this forever.

If you are innocent, please let me prove it for you.

Hmm?

We need to get Roy to rewatch the film from that night,

see if he was actually wearing a jacket or not.

If it wasn't him, who was it?

Well, Harry claims that Barry Briar

was in the grounds that night, so I don't know.

Maybe he's our mystery Cavalier.

And you are 100% sure of that?

All right, Roy. Well, thank you for that.

What? What? What is it with me?

Just... Look. What are you trying to tell me?

I don't understand what you're saying.

Just... Just... I don't have an affinity with dogs.

More of a cat person. No... No offense.

Just... Off you go. Off you go. Off you go.

Shoo. Shoo. Shoo. Shoo. Shoo.

Well?

Barry didn't turn up for work today.

Oh. Well, is that unusual?

The barmaid said that he tends to go AWOL

when the Crossed Swords are in camp.

But she thought he'd have called by now.

It doesn't feel right.

Well, she didn't seem too worried.

Reckons he'll turn up when the mead runs dry.

Any news from Roy?

Yeah. Well, he watched the film again.

And it would appear that Harry wasn't wearing the jacket,

which implies that he was telling the truth...

Unlike Carol and Percy.

That man looked me in the eye and told me he didn't know her.

He's certainly making up for lost time.

Or maybe they've been lying all along.

Hey!

Not interrupting, are we?

Look at that. Guilty faces now.

- Mm-hmm. - Mm-hmm.

- Shall we? - Let's.

Agatha, I-I want to explain.

And why should I believe you?

You've lied to the police. You've lied to us.

What else are you hiding?

Mother set out to destroy every relationship I ever had.

I knew she'd ridicule me for being with someone younger

and not one of us,

but I didn't give a snuff about any of that.

I knew Percy loved me.

And she never did.

Carol had been very vocal about how much she hated her mother.

When she died, we knew people would be suspicious

about why we'd kept our relationship secret.

I-I can't pretend to be sad about Olivia,

but Robin was my friend.

Until Florian Devere poisoned her against you.

Florian? How?

I always dreamed that I'd find the treasure one day.

It turned into a serious hobby.

What's that got to do with Florian?

Robin asked me to help with a documentary she was planning

on the Lamont story.

When she got an exciting new lead from some bigwig at Oxford,

I offered to check it out.

Florian got there before me.

She was blinded by his charm, his celebrity.

He told her I was an amateur, couldn't be trusted,

that I was just using her to get to the treasure first.

She chose to believe him.

But she regretted it.

Percy, tell her.

Robin called me the day she was murdered,

asked me to meet her at her studio.

Sounded scared.

I got there sometime between 7:30 and 8:00,

but she wasn't there.

I just thought she'd changed her mind.

Barry Briar!

Oh! I knew something wasn't right!

- What? - Oh!

Oh, God.

Well, Barry said that Ironside never, ever left his side,

so why was he at the pub without...

Uh...

James!

When you were at the bar, Ironside was there,

barking at me, desperate.

He was trying to tell me something.

- Agatha, slow down. - Okay.

What if Harry was not the only one

that was being blackmailed by Barry, hmm?

We know Barry used his metal detector around the grounds.

If he was killed there,

the passageway would be a perfect place to hide a body!

Can't this wait until the morning?

No, James, it can't!

Aah!

What if Barry found out that Percy was the murderer

and tried to blackmail him as well?

Percy was on the brink

of getting everything he ever wanted...

Ivy Hall, Carol, maybe even the treasure.

He wasn't gonna let Barry stand in his way.

We know that Percy was fond of a little secret.

And behind that nerdy, biscuit-nibbling veneer,

he was a bloody good liar.

Vindictive, too.

I mean, trying to implicate Florian.

Percy's garden has direct, private access onto Ivy Hall

and the camp at Barfield.

What if he killed them all completely under the radar?

This is all conjecture.

- We need evidence. - Exactly.

So while the police are away investigating Barry's death,

we are going to go and find some.

They're not called emergency knickers for nothing, James.

Go on. Try the door.

It's locked.

Not the Earl of Cleveland.

Agatha, please.

We all have to make sacrifices, James.

What exactly are we looking for?

Surveillance footage from the night that Robin died.

She was killed sometime between 7:30 and 8:00,

which is the time that Percy claims that he was here.

Okay. Well, this proves that he's lying.

I'm gonna call Bill.

No. Just give it a minute.

What have we here?

Okay. So it couldn't have been Percy.

James... there must be a darkroom here.

Oh.

Is, uh, James around?

I promised I'd return this.

No, he's not. But, um, come in.

What are you doing?

I studied photography at college.

A term in the darkroom.

Tutor was French, highly skilled.

Along the way, I learned a thing or two about processing.

And here we are... Liquid cyanide.

Old-school chemical for sepia toning,

so whoever killed Robin Barley must have got it from here.

Agatha, we should go.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No. No. Not yet.

Florian's at the agency.

We found what we came for.

That's criminal damage.

In for a penny, eh?

What have we here?

Years of research.

All sorts of academic papers.

Who's that?

It's a Frank Dover.

It would appear he dedicated his entire life

to finding Lamont's treasure.

Well, he died in 1997.

Oh. That coin.

It's...

That is the coin that was on Florian's hipster necklace.

Who's that little boy?

Is that Florian?

Was it him that sent you the text?

No. It was Toni.

Right. They should be here soon.

I was just making a sandwich... Cheese, banana, and Marmite.

I know it sounds weird, but oh, my God.

It's so lush.

Always been a girl that's kind of into that sweet-savory vibe.

Oh, my God. Do you want one?

Do you want? I'll make you one.

If you don't love it, I'll eat yours too.

Where is it?

- What? - Lamont's journal.

I, um...

If you don't tell me, I'll kill you.

As you've probably guessed, I've done it before.

Oh, God. She's not answering.

Right. Let's look around the side.

There'll be some reasonable explanation.

Oh, Bill, where are you?

We need backup at the agency. Hurry up!

It... It was in the drawer.

Hang on. No. She must have... She must have moved it.

Um... I remember now.

Listen.

- This is your last chance. - Okay.

It's behind the fish tank.

I really don't like liars.

Just give him the journal!

It's really not worth anyone else dying for.

Oh!

You're the boy in the photograph, aren't you?

Frank Dover... He was your father, wasn't he?

You have been doing your homework.

We don't have enough time.

Father would be so proud of me today.

You think so?!

Killing all those innocent people?

Don't get me wrong. I hated the man.

His obsession ruined our life, especially my mother.

When he died, it was her idea to change our name.

How did you find it?

Just... by chance, in the secret passage.

I knew it was at Ivy Hall.

That's why I had to get rid of Olivia.

I knew she'd never leave the place voluntarily,

so I started my campaign of terror.

Oh.

I thought I could scare the old bitch out of there.

She didn't scare too easily, did she?

Well, I borrowed Harry's uniform as a disguise.

He's estranged from his mother, the sole inheritor.

I knew he'd be the prime suspect.

How did you do it? Hmm?

I broke her neck with the butt of Lamont's musket.

Ooh.

The irony appealed to me.

I positioned her underneath the balcony.

I thought the local plod would write it off as a fall,

but then you came along.

So what about Robin Barley?

She'd come across some new research,

evidence in a journal of a riddle.

So you decided to discredit Percy

so you could get your hands on it first.

It wasn't hard.

Then she found the photograph, made the connection,

threatened to reveal my obsession with Lamont

to the police.

So you decided to kill her with her own cyanide?

And that's where it should have ended.

But Barry Briar, he was onto you, wasn't he?

He was an ally at first... For a price.

Told me about your investigation.

That's when I vandalized your car as a warning.

But Barry was greedy.

He saw my car parked close to Ivy Hall

the night of Olivia's murder.

Yeah. He just wanted to blackmail you, didn't he?

I knew he had a big mouth, couldn't stay quiet for long.

So basically you killed three people

for a treasure that might not even exist.

Soon to be six.

The game is uppeth!

Unhand the damsel, thou foul villain.

Go ahead. Shoot.

Oh, God.

James.

I had only just got that fixed!

But thank you.

Really.

Thank you.

Stand!

To your right hands face!

Order your arms!

Pike!

Recover half!

Mistress Boggle, keep it uppeth, I prithee.

I'm doing me blithering besteth.

Oh, Wilkes, leave her alone.

Give fire!

Give fire!

Aah!

My lady.

Oh, James.

Did you really have to come dressed as Cromwell?

- Poor show. - I did win the war, Charles.

Whereas you took the coward's way out

and legged it back to France.

I made a strategic retreat,

and when I returned, I had your body exhumed,

hung, and beheaded three years after you died of septicemia.

I'd say you were definitely the biggest loser there.

We're moving into the hall. Harry too.

Harry and I can live the life our mother always denied us,

thanks to you.

Agatha!

Don't trust her, Aggie.

This girl is a con artist.

She broke into the plan room and...

Oh.

I might have known you'd be behind this.

Sorry, Charlie.

You are pardoned.

You do look lush in that wig, though.

Oh. Don't encourage him.

Phone hasn't stopped ringing.

You're gonna have more work than you can handle.

Well, I think it may be time for me to hire a junior detective.

What? Really?

- You mean me? - I do.

Welcome on board.

Congratulations.

Agatha's not easy to impress.

Can I get you a glass of mead to celebrate?

Well, I'm actually more of a shots girl,

but if you're buying, Billy.

No one's called me that in ages.

Just don't throw up on my shoes.

Agatha, I think I worked it out.

The answer's in the jewels.

"Bloodstones, amethysts, rubies,

firestones, Indian emeralds, lapis, diamonds."

"Barfield."

So Florian was wrong.

The treasure was never at Ivy Hall.

- It was here. - I think I might know where.

Come on.

"Priceless treasure safe in the broken heart of one dead

but standing still on the horizon."

It's in the tree.

It's in the tree.

Well, it's my tree.

Oh. I think I've got it.

I mean, we won't be able to keep all of it, obviously,

but we'll definitely get a cut.

I quite fancy a new car.

I'd like some of it to go to Jez's mission in Africa.

Then he might finally be able to come home.

My orangery is in desperate need of repair,

and it was found on my land.

- What? - This... This can't be it.

Oh, they're love letters from Lady Sarah to Sir Geoffrey.

So his priceless treasure...

Was his love.