All language subtitles for Agatha.Christie.Poirot.Season.1.Bluray.1080p.720p

"Husband put head
in gas oven. Home life happy."?

No.

"Belgravia and
Overseas Bank clerk absconds

with fortune"?

How much is this fortune?

�90,000.

No.

That's a king's ransom, Poirot.

When it is used to ransom
a king,

it becomes interesting
to Poirot.

"Missed typist of 21.
Where is Edna Field?"

Oh, no.

There's good stuff
here, Poirot.

Mysterious suicide, absconding
bank clerk, missing typist.

Yes, but I am not greatly
attracted to any of them,

mon ami.

I have many affairs
of importance of my own

to attend to.

Such as?

My wardrobe, Hastings.

If I mistake not, there is on my
new gray suit a spot of grease.

You have noticed it perhaps,
non?

No.

No? Well, it is only
the one spot, you understand,

but it is sufficient
to trouble me.

Then there's my winter overcoat.

I must lay him aside
in the parlor of kittings.

And I think. . .

yes, I think the moment is right

for the trimming
of the mustache,

also the pomading.

There's a lady to see you,
Mr. Poirot.

A lady?

A client.
Her name's Mrs. Todd.

Unless the affair
is one of national importance,

I touch it not.

I couldn't say, sir.
Shall I ask her?

No, no, no, no, Miss Lemon.

Show Mrs. Todd in.

We shall judge for ourselves,
eh, Hastings?

Oh, yes, yes.

Mrs. Todd.

Doesn't sound as if
she's nationally important.

Mind you,
I knew a Mrs. Jones once

who was Master of Hounds
with the Mid Rutland.

Yes?

No, that's all.
Funny woman.

Mrs. Todd, sir.

Thank you.

Oh, are you Mr. Poirot?

I am Hercule Poirot,
yes, madame.

Oh, you're not a bit
how I thought you'd be.

Did you pay for that bit
in the paper

saying what a clever detective
you were,

or did they put it in
themselves?

Madame.

Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sure,

but you know what newspapers
are like nowadays.

Nothing but puff.

But no offense taken, I hope.

I'll tell you what I want you
to do for me.

I want you to find my cook.

I fear you are making a mistake,
madame.

Hercule Poirot
is a private detective.

I know that.

Haven't I just told you I want
you to find my cook for me?

Walked out of the house
on Wednesday,

without so much
as a "by your leave,"

and never came back.

I am sorry, madame,

but I do not touch that
particular kind of business.

I wish you good day.

So, that's it, is it?

Too proud, eh?

Only deal with government
secrets and countesses' jewels?

Well, let me tell you,
Mr. High and Mighty Poirot,

a good cook is a good cook,
and when you lose one,

it's as much to you
as pearls are to some fine lady.

Madame, you are in the right,
and I am in the wrong.

Your remarks are just
and intelligent.

This case will be a novelty,
Hastings.

Never before have we hunted
a missing domestique.

Truly, here is the problem
of national importance.

Where do you reside, Mrs. Todd?

88 Prince Albert Road, Clapham.

You say this jewel
of a cook went out on Wednesday

and did not return?

Wednesday, yes.
It was her day off.

The day before yesterday.

Has it occurred to you, madame,

that she might have met
with some accident?

Have you inquired
at the hospitals?

That's exactly what I thought
yesterday,

but this morning, if you please,
she sent for her box.

-What box?
-Her box.

Her trunk.

Luggage.

Oh, I see.

Will you describe her to me,
madame?

Oh, she's most respectable.

Ten years in her last place.

Middle-aged, gray-haired, thin.

And her name?

Dunn.
Eliza Dunn.

This is Clapham.

There's the common.

Charming.

You had no disagreement with her
on Wednesday, madame?

No, that's what makes it all
so queer.

How many servants do you keep?

Two.

Miss Dunn and the house
parlor maid, Annie.

There we are.

There's 88.

All right, driver!

Annie!

Hastings, my friend,
promise me one thing.

What's that, Poirot?

Never, but never
must Chief Inspector Japp hear

that I investigated such a case.

Mum's the word, old boy.

Now, Annie,
this gentleman's a detective.

He wants to ask you
a few questions.

Here we are, sir.

Voyons, Mademoiselle Annie.

Sit yourself.

Thank you, sir.

All that you shall tell us

will be of the greatest
importance, Annie.

You alone can shed any light
on the case.

Without you, I can do nothing.

Oh, sir, I'm sure I'll tell you
anything I can, sir.

That is good.

Now.

First of all. . .

what is your own idea?

You are a girl
of remarkable intelligence.

That can be seen at once,
but this is a queer thing, hein?

What is your own explanation
of Eliza's disappearance?

White slavers, sir.

Ah.

I've said so all along, sir,
only no one will listen.

Cook was always warning me
against them.

"Don't you go sniffing no scent
nor eating no sweets,

no matter how gentlemanly
the fellow."

This is something we have not
thought of, Hastings.

No, right.

Good heavens.

But would she have sent
for her trunk?

Beg pardon, sir?

Miss Dunn sent for her trunk,
I believe.

Now, if she had truly been taken
by these white slavers,

would she have sent
for her luggage?

Well, I don't know, sir.

She'd want her things,
wouldn't she?

Even in foreign parts,
she'd want her things.

Who came for her trunk, Annie?

The carriers, sir,
the men from Carter Patterson.

Did you pack it for her?

No, sir. It was already packed
and corded.

Ah, that is interesting.

That shows that when she left
the house on Wednesday,

already she determined
not to return.

You see that, do you not?

Oh, I'd never thought of that.

No.

Tell me, now, Annie,

what was the very last thing
Eliza said to you

before she went out?

She said, "If there's any
stewed peaches left over

from the dining room,
we'll have them for supper,

and a bit of bacon
and fried potatoes."

Mad over stewed peaches,
she was.

I shouldn't wonder if that
wasn't the way they got her.

Got her?

The white slavers.

Ah.
The stewed peaches, quite.

Thank you very much, Annie.

You have been most helpful.

Was she saying things about me?

Not at all.

Only things
of the pleasantest nature.

But for a woman of your
intelligence, madame,

it would be tiresome
to bear with patience

the roundabout methods we
plodding detectives have to use.

Oh.
Oh, I see.

Well, I wouldn't say there was
all that much difference

between us, Mr. Poirot.

Mind you, I was always very good
at general knowledge at school.

There.

And your husband, too, I'm sure
is the intellectual, yes?

Yes, yes, he does very well
with figures.

A successful businessman?

With the Prudential, yes,
in the city.

What about the other inmates
of the house, madame?

Oh, you mean Mr. Simpson,
our paying guest.

What is his profession, madame?

Oh, he's in business, too,

with the Belgravia
and Overseas Bank.

Young man, is he?

28, I believe.
A nice young fellow.

Well, they'll both be in
at about 6:00,

if you want to see them.

An excellent suggestion, madame.

Well, my colleague and I
will take a turn

on your famous common
for one hour.

It's a curious coincidence
that the paying guest Simpson

works in the same bank
as the absconding clerk.

They must have known each other.

Perhaps.

Or possibly
Davis visited Simpson,

fell in love with the cook,

and he persuaded her
to accompany him on his flight.

Come, Hastings, let us go back
to the prudential Monsieur Todd.

I've heard of you, Mr. Poirot,
haven't I?

It's possible, Monsieur Todd.

Oh, yes.

I follow crime, you know.

Indeed?

Well, perhaps you have
some theories

about the disappearance
of your cook.

Theories?

No.

It's hardly a crime, is it?

A good cook, her, and economic.

I'm very hot in economy.

Admirable.

Now we would like to have a few
words with your Mr. Simpson,

if that's possible.

Another one after that.

Thank you.

Just off the next landing.

Mr. Simpson?

Hold on.

Yes?

Mr. Simpson, my name is Poirot.

Hercule Poirot.

Oh.

Yes.

May we have a moment
of your so valuable time?

Certainly.
Come in.

Thank you.

Mr. Simpson,

Mrs. Todd has engaged me
to find Eliza Dunn, the cook.

Oh.
Where is she?

Well, that is what
we do not know, monsieur.

You know her, of course.

Well, I must have met her,
I suppose.

It would seem that Miss Dunn has
not been seen since Wednesday.

Did you see her on that day?

I don't think so.

I don't know.

You were at work as usual,
on Wednesday?

Yes.

Thank you, Mr. Simpson.

It was most kind of you
to spare us the time.

Tell me, Mr. Simpson,

what does a young fellow find
to do around here

of an evening, huh?

Oh, the usual things, you know.

Musical evenings,
amateur theatricals,

that kind of thing?

Yes, I suppose so.

You do not interest yourself,
hmm?

Afraid not.

No.

Thank you.

I think that husband
has got something to do with it.

To do with the missing cook?

There's something about him
I don't trust.

Merely because a man does not
offer you a drink, Hastings,

does not mean
that he is necessarily

guilty of other crimes.

But there doesn't seem to be
any crime at all,

as far as I can see.

No, it is a curious case,
full of contradictory features.

I am interested.

Oh, yes.
I am distinctly interested.

What?!

How does she dare?

What is it?

As a favor, as a great favor,

I agreed to investigate this
two-penny, half-penny affair.

What is it, old chap?

Read it! Read it!

"Mr. Todd regrets that,
after all,

his wife will not avail herself
of Mr. Poirot's services.

After talking the matter over
with me,

she sees that it is foolish
to call in a detective

about a purely domestic affair.

Mr. Todd encloses a guinea
for consultation."

Is this to be believed?

Do they think they can get rid
of Hercule Poirot like that?

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

36 times no.

They send me one guinea, huh?

No!

I will spend my own guineas.

3,600 of them, if need be.

But I will get to the bottom
of this matter.

If Eliza Dunn. . .

will communicate
with this address. . .

. . .she will hear something
to her profit.

Advantage.

-Yes?
-Yes.

Good.

-You have that, Miss Lemon?
-Yes, Mr. Poirot.

Put it in all the papers
you can think of.

She won't read The Times,
I shouldn't think.

No, my dear Miss Lemon,
perhaps she will not,

but perhaps her new employers
will.

Now run along, Miss Lemon.
Vite, vite.

And you, Hastings, do not you
run away with such celerity.

I have work for you, too.

Oh, as a matter of fact,

I was thinking of popping down
to Sandown this afternoon.

No, no, no.
You do not pop.

There's a horse running
a pal of mine earns a leg of.

When he owns four legs,
I pop with you.

But now is time for work, yes?

I want you to telephone

all the domestic agencies
you can find

and see if they have found
Miss Eliza Dunn a new post.

As for me. . .I pop to the city
of London.

And Mr. Simpson was at work
as usual on Wednesday?

Oh, yes, Mr. Simpson
is an excellent timekeeper.

To tell the truth, he was absent
on Thursday with a cold.

Well, you have been
most helpful, Mr. Cameron.

Thank you.

Glad to be of assistance.

It is an unfortunate occurrence,

this business
of Davis absconding.

Oh, you heard about that,
did you?

Well, one could scarcely
miss it.

The newspapers love scandals
about that.

Ah, that is human nature,
Mr. Cameron.

But it is comforting
for us mere mortals

to know that banks, too,
have their difficulties.

Again, I thank you, monsieur.

Chief Inspector Japp.

I wonder if I might ask you
a few questions.

You and Davis are friends,
I believe, Mr. Simpson.

That's right.

I can't believe this of him.

There must be some mistake.

If I told you, sir, the number
of times I've heard that said.

If you had to hazard
a conjecture, Mr. Simpson,

as to where Davis might go
if he wanted to hide,

where would you say?

I -- I don't know.

He was fond of Broadstairs.

Yes, I was thinking of somewhere

a little more exotic than that,
sir.

Foreign parts, even.

Oh, I don't think
he's ever been abroad.

You were at work as usual
on Wednesday,

were you, Mr. Simpson?

It's Thursday
you want to know about, surely,

and I was away on Thursday.

No, no, Mr. Simpson.

Although the bonds were found
to be missing on Thursday,

we believe that they must have
been removed from the bank

on Wednesday.

I was here all day Wednesday.

Now, sir. . .

That man.

What about him?

He was at my dig-ins yesterday.

Was he, by George?

Ah.

My dear Chief Inspector Japp.

After the reward, eh, Poirot?

Hmm?
Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

No, I am engaged
on quite a different case.

And what would
this different case be, then?

Ah, well, now, there is such a
thing as client confidentiality,

Chief Inspector.

Let me just say
that this case I am engaged on

is of national importance.

Well, I'm glad to hear it,
Poirot.

Someone was trying to tell me

you'd gone into
the missing domestics business.

No, no, I said.

Not Poirot, I said.

Hard times or not,
he wouldn't fall that far.

No word from Eliza Dunn,
Miss Lemon?

No, Mr. Poirot.

Another letter
from the Duchess of Braxton.

No, no, no.

She sounds desperate.

No.

Good heavens.

Mr. Poirot.
Mr. Poirot.

Yes, Miss Lemon, yes?

There's a letter, sir.
A letter from Eliza Dunn.

There!

Did I not tell you, Hastings?

And you tried to waste Poirot's
time with the duchesses.

Well, I only thought. . .

You must learn, my friend,
of patience.

Read it to us, Miss Lemon.

"Dear Sir or Madam,

ref. your add in the newspaper,
I already got my legacy,

if there's some mistake.

Yours truly, Eliza Dunn, Miss.

P.S. Thanks all the same
for your trouble."

What does she mean, "legacy"?

We must talk to this woman,
at. . .

Fell Cottage, Amdale, Kiswick.

Kiswick?

That's Keswick, Mr. Poirot,
in the Lake District.

Ah.
Are there trains to this place?

Oh, yes.

Bon.

Come, Hastings.
We have a train to catch.

But --

Look at it, Hastings.

Not a building in sight.

Not a restaurant, not a theater,
not an art gallery.

A wasteland.

I thought you liked the country.

But this is not the country,
my friend.

The country is full of trees
and flowers and public houses.

This is a desert.

I don't know why
we've come all this way, anyway.

You've found the cook.

The cook is but
the beginning of the story,

Hastings.

We're on to bigger things.

Look at that, Poirot.
Look at that view!

Yes, well,
views are very nice, Hastings,

but they should be painted
for us,

so that we may study them

in the warmth and comfort
of our own homes.

That is why we pay the artist,

for exposing himself to these
conditions on our behalf.

What do you mean, "conditions"?
It's a wonderful day.

Just fill your lungs
with that air.

No, my poor friend.

This sort of air is intended for
birds and little furry things.

The lungs of Hercule Poirot

demand something
more substantial.

The good air of the town.

Fell Cottage, I perceive.

We have got the right
Eliza Dunn, have we?

I mean, what is she doing
all the way up here?

That is what we are here
to find out.

Wonderful position.

If you are a rock,
it's wonderful.

Yes?

Miss Eliza Dunn?

Yes.

Formerly in the employ
of Mrs. Ernestine Todd

at 88 Prince Albert Road,
Clapham?

That's right.

I am Hercule Poirot, Miss Dunn.

You were kind enough to answer
my newspaper advertisement.

Oh, yes.

Well, like I said in my letter,
sir,

I've already got my legacy.

Miss Dunn, may we be permitted
to come into the house

for a moment?

I'm sure your employer
will not object.

No, she won't mind.

Come in.

Thank you.

Come in.

The reason I laughed, sir,
I'm sorry,

is I don't have no employer,
see.

This is my house.

Oh, Miss Dunn, forgive me.

That's all right, sir.
You wasn't to know.

This is part of my legacy, see.

Oh, sit down. Do.

Thank you.

Now, Miss Dunn,
you have mentioned your legacy,

but Captain Hastings and I,
we know nothing of this.

What was the ad, then?

Your late mistress, Mrs. Todd,
was much concerned about you.

She feared some accident
might have befallen you.

But didn't she get my letter?

No, she got no letter.

She got no word of any kind.

Oh, dear, sir.

I gave the letter
to Mr. Crotchet.

I said most particular
he was to give it to Mrs. Todd.

Oh, dear.

Perhaps you would recount
to Captain Hastings and me

the whole story.

Well, Wednesdays is my day out.

And it was last Wednesday
that it all started like.

The stone
which the builders rejected,

the same has become
the head of the corner.

I'd been over to see
my friend in Oxton

and I was on my way home,
when a gentleman stopped me.

He said he'd been asking for me
at number 88.

And he told me some story

about an old friend of
my grandmother's in Australia

leaving me a house
and some money in her will.

Well, I didn't believe him
at first.

And then he showed me
this letter.

It will be the stone which
the builders have rejected. . .

Who was these lawyers,
Hearst and Crotchet?

127 Wentworth Way, Melbourne?

Well, one of them
is right here, Miss Dunn.

"Benjamin Crotchet.

Attorney-at-law."

I hope that allays
your very understandable fears.

Oh, yes, indeed, sir.

I didn't mean to doubt you.

Now, Miss Dunn, to business.

I do have to tell you
that the house is in Keswick.

That's just over by Acton,
isn't it, sir?

No, Miss Dunn. It's in the north
of England, near Carlisle.

Oh, my good God.

But before we confront
that particular difficulty,

there is one other stipulation

that we should get
out of the way.

What ever is that, sir?

Well, it's of no importance,

as it doesn't apply
in this case, thank heaven.

It's just a stipulation

that you should not be
in domestic service.

Oh.

What ever is the matter,
Miss Dunn?

I am a cook, sir.

Didn't they tell you
at the house?

My dear Miss Dunn,
I had no idea.

This is very unfortunate.

Will I have to lose the money,
sir?

And the house, sir?

It sounds ever so nice,

even if it is a bit
out of the way.

I believe I have it.

We lawyers always know
a thing or two.

The way out here is for you
to have left your employment

before we met.

But we have met, sir,
and I haven't.

-Haven't you?
-No.

Haven't you, Miss Dunn?

No.

Oh, I see.

Yes.

You left your employment
this morning, did you not,

before we met.

Yes, I remember now.

I did, as a matter of fact.

There.

Now, it is imperative

that you take possession of the
house by noon tomorrow.

In order to do that,

you must catch the night train
from King's Cross.

Oh!

Come along, Miss Dunn.

I can advance you �10 or so
for the fare

and you can write a note
to your employer at the station,

which I shall
personally deliver for you.

And was everything
as Mr. Crotchet had said?

Oh, yes, and more, sir.

Now, what about your luggage?

All the things you had left
at 88 Prince Albert Road?

Oh, well, Mr. Crotchet sent them
on, like he said he would.

But it was all done up
in brown paper, like.

I don't know.

I suppose Mrs. Todd
was angry with me,

and grudged me my bit of luck

and wouldn't let him have
my box.

-But Annie said the trunk was --
-Later, my friend.

Later.

But there you said
she never got my letter.

Well, I can't say
as I blame her.

I see.

Thank you, mademoiselle.

Oh.

There has been, as you say,

a little "muddle"
about your trunk,

which I will straighten out
with Mrs. Todd,

if you will permit.

Oh, thank you very much, sir.

Come, Hastings.

We must return to London
with all possible speed.

Is there nowhere you can contact
Chief Inspector Japp?

Then telephone him at his home.

Yes, of the greatest urgency.

Tell him he should not
be looking for Davis!

He should be looking
for Simpson!

No, not Davis, but Simpson!

-Thank you.
-Thank you.

Why should Japp want Simpson
all of a sudden?

What's Simpson
supposed to have done?

Hastings, my friend,

the little gray cells
are not working today, hein?

They take a little vacances,
hein?

It's to do with this Eliza,
isn't it?

No.

Oh.

We have moved
beyond the petty sphere

of cooks from Clapham, Hastings.

Then, it's something to do
with this Australian fellow?

There is no Australian fellow.

Yes, there is.
She told us about him.

Do you remember
when we interviewed Simpson?

Interviewed Simpson?

No.

In his little room,
at the house in Clapham.

Oh, right.
The lodger, yes.

Do you remember I asked him

if he took an interest
in amateur theatricals?

Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.

Why do you think
I asked him that?

Why?

Well, making conversation,
I suppose.

I asked him that

because he had recently
been wearing a false beard.

He had a tiny trace
of gum Arabic in his. . .

What do you call it here?

Sideburn.

Sideburn, yes.

Do you see?

Oh, right.
Yes.

Bon.

The Australian was Simpson
in a false beard.

Hey!

Who are you?

I am Hercule Poirot.

Who are you?

Sarge, there's some
French gent at the door.

No, no, no, no, no,
I am not some "French gent."

I am some Belgian gent.

Well, well, well,
if it isn't Mr. Poirot.

It is.

Is the lady of the house in?

The chief inspector is here.

Mr. Poirot.

Ah, Mrs. Todd.
Good morning.

I don't know how you have
the impertinence

to show your face here again!

You were paid off, Mr. Poirot.
You were paid off handsomely.

-Well. . .
-And then look at this.

We've got policemen crawling
all over the house!

You're not too popular
in Clapham this morning, Poirot.

A bit of a wild goose chase,
this.

As far as we can ascertain,
this Mr. Simpson of yours

is a perfectly respectable
young bank employee

who happens to have gone home
to his family.

We have the Shropshire
Constabulary checking that

at the moment.

I only wanted to ask --

No!

Well, perhaps you'd be
interested to know --

No, I wouldn't.

Good day, Mr. Poirot.

Poirot.

Annie, I need to ask you
a question.

Can you help me?

I'll try, sir.

Last Friday,
the Carter Patterson

came to collect Eliza's trunk,
yes?

Her box.
Yes, sir.

-You were here when he came?
-Oh, yes, sir.

I had to show them up
to Eliza's room

for them to take it up.

Bon.

It was ever so heavy, sir.

It took three of them
to get it down the stairs.

You all right, sir?

Of course.

Tell me, Annie, you said
her box was already packed.

Oh, yes, sir.
Packed, locked, and corded.

Quite a thick rope round it
and done up ever so tight.

Did it have a label on it?

Yes, it did, sir.

With an address?

Just her name.

Miss Eliza Dunn, it said.

Twickenham Station,
to be called for.

Very well, Annie.

Thank you.

Au revoir.

Au revoir, sir.

Ah, excellent!

Then why would Crotchet
want to perpetrate

such an elaborate hoax?

Ah. That is a very good
question, Hastings.

But Eliza Dunn
has got her house.

I shall be surprised

if she finds she has more
than a six months' lease.

So, what did Crotchet want?

Crotchet?

Well, Simpson, then,
pretending to be Crotchet.

He wanted something
that Eliza Dunn had.

Money, the Australian legacy?

He wanted a battered
old tin trunk.

Her trunk, with nothing in it?

But he could buy a trunk.

Oh, but he did not want
a new trunk, mon ami.

He wanted a trunk of pedigree,

a trunk of assured
respectability.

Look here, Poirot, what would
Simpson want an old trunk for?

To put the body in, of course.

Sent on to Glasgow, gov,
to await collection there.

But how do you know this?

You have not consulted
your records.

I don't need to consult
my records, gov, do I?

What do you mean, body?
What body?

-Is he with you?
-Whose body?

I mean to say,

if there's going to be bodies
all over the place. . .

Doucement, Hastings.
All will be revealed to you.

Can we get on with the business
in hand?

By all means.

I saw to it myself, didn't I?

Yesterday morning.

Some cove with a beard.

Crotchet.

You spoke to this man?

Of course I spoke to him.

Did he give a name?

Nah, he just said
this Eliza Dunn was his aunt

and she wanted the trunk sent on
to Glasgow.

And it's gone?
You have sent it?

No.

Every Friday,

the Southern Railway pays me
huge amounts of money

so I won't do
that sort of thing.

I think he's being sarcastic,
Poirot.

No, no, Hastings.

He is a good man.

He is doing the job
of great responsibility.

Thank you, monsieur.

I'll tell you one thing, though.

And what is that, monsieur?

You looking for this bloke
or something?

Well, of course
we're looking for him.

I'm talking to the engineer,
not the oil rag.

Now, look here!

Hastings.

What is this one thing
you will tell us, monsieur?

All right.

I'll tell ya.

I'll tell you where he is.

There.

Go on.

Well, at least rough figures.

Ah, a bit less sure now.

I bet he is.
I bet he's where I say.

And where do you say?

Bolivia. There.

Bolivia?

That's in South America.

And what is it that makes
you think he is in Bolivia?

Well, going there,
at least on his way, like.

He has to pay for this trunk
to be sent on to Glasgow, see?

I see.

He takes out a wad of notes.

Could choke a cart horse,
it would.

There's a few English notes
there,

which he pays
what he owes me with,

but I couldn't help but notice

most of the other notes
were Bolivian.

Hastings,
this gentleman is a genius.

How do you know
they were Bolivian?

Well, one tiny little thing was

they had "Bolivia" written
all over them, didn't they?

Here we are --
this week's sailings.

Ah.

Nothing for Bolivia today.

Bolivia is a landlocked country,
Hastings.

Ah, that explains it, then.

So one sails to Buenos Aires
and goes by train from there.

What lovely names they all have.

"Queen of Heaven
sailing for Caracas."

Thank you, Miss Lemon.

Can we stick to Buenos Aires,
please?

Ah, here we are.

The S.S. Nevonia,
from Southampton, at 1:00 a.m.

Well, let's go, then.

Are we looking for Simpson
or the trunk?

Simpson, of course.

The trunk is in Glasgow.

But first, Scotland Yard.

And of course you see
some sinister point

in all this Arthur Simpson's
activities.

Yes, of course, Chief Inspector.

Six months' rent on a house,
�150 to Miss Dunn.

It is not much to assure
the success of his plan.

And this famous plan is?

I mean, we've heard a lot
about it, Mr. Poirot,

and I'm sure it's been
very entertaining.

We are wasting time,
Chief Inspector.

Go on, then.

His plan, of course,
is to steal �90,000 worth

of negotiable securities

from the Belgravia
and Overseas Bank.

No.

That's Davis.

Here it is, Sergeant.

Chief Inspector Japp speaking.

Ah, yes, Sergeant.

Good, good.

It's Glasgow.
They found the trunk.

And?

What do you mean, "and"?

Have they opened it?

Sergeant Hendry,
have you opened the trunk?

Ah, yes, I see.

Apparently they need a warrant
on them.

Mon Dieu.
There is a body in that trunk.

A body.

Look, Sergeant, there seems
to be the possibility

there's a body in that trunk.

Yes, a dead body.

You will?

Right.
Thank you.

He thinks
that may expedite matters.

He's going to ring me back.

Now, then, what body?
Whose body?

Davis, of course.

This is nonsense, Poirot.

Davis stole those securities
from the bank,

Davis is the one
who disappeared the day. . .

after.

Precisely.

You think what Simpson
wanted you to think.

Listen, Chief Inspector.

On Wednesday, Simpson,
disguised, decoys away the cook.

Now, he has already removed
the securities from the bank,

but knows that this
will not be discovered

until Thursday afternoon.

Now, he does not go to the bank
on Thursday.

Instead he lies in wait for
Davis when he comes out to lunch

and asks him to come to Clapham
with him.

Now, it is the maid's day out.

Mrs. Todd is at the shops.

There is no one in the house.

Simpson kills Davis.

The one difficulty
for a murderer

is the disposal of the body.

And that is why Simpson wanted
the trunk of Miss Eliza Dunn.

And now, if I am not much
mistaken, my friends,

it is here we will apprehend
our murderer.

Have I got something wrong,
Chief Inspector?

No, no, Poirot.
Can't be right every time.

Mon Dieu, I am wrong.

I am wrong.

Officer.

Where does the Queen of Heaven
sail from tonight?

Why, from pier 5, sir,
over there.

Poirot, where are we going?

The Queen of Heaven
sails for Caracas tonight.

I remember it from The Times.

Yes, but Caracas
isn't in Bolivia, is it?

What the porter saw on
the bank note was not Bolivia.

-What was it, then?
-It was bolivar.

And the bolivar is the unit
of currency in Venezuela.

Our friend is on his way
to Venezuela!

Simpson!

Stop that man!

No, no, no, no, no, no,
Miss Lemon.

To the left.

At least one centimeter
to the left.

That's better.

Voil�.

Is there nothing
to which Hercule Poirot

cannot turn his finger?

Hand.

Pay to Hercule Poirot,
the sum of one guinea only.

Ernest Todd.

It is to me, Hastings,
a little reminder

never to despise the trivial,
hein,

or the undignified.

A disappearing domestic
at one hand,

a cold-blooded murder
at the other.