All language subtitles for Agatha_Christies_Poirot_S13E01_x265_720p_BluRay_30nama_30NAMA.en

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It is with enormous pleasure

that I give you
our crime writer of the year,

Mrs Ariadne Oliver!

Surely you remember her?

Celia Ravenscroft.

She's your god-daughter, is she not?

Is she?
It's just that one has so many.

Mrs Oliver,
may I have your autograph?

Thank you.

Oh, that Celia! I haven't
seen her in a very long time.

Thank you.

May I confide in you?

There's something
I really must find out.

Something of great moment.

A mystery.

Celia Ravenscroft, you see,
intends to marry my son Desmond.

Why is that a mystery? Is there
something wrong with Desmond?

No, there's nothing wrong
with Desmond.

No.

But it's...
It's all just... very sudden.

And one has to know about people.

Especially people one's welcoming
into one's family.

Mrs Oliver,

what I want to know is this.

Did her father kill her mother?

Or did the mother kill the father?

I don't think I heard you properly.
Pardon?

I know it was 12
or 13 years ago now.

But it did cause a fuss at the time.

You must remember.

General and Mrs Ravenscroft.

Of course I remember,
it's just that I

couldn't quite believe
my ears, Mrs...

Burton-Cox.

Mrs Burton-Cox, it has
been nice meeting you.

But I must find out the truth.

I'm at a loss to see how I...

Ask your god-daughter. Ask Celia.

Please.

I shouldn't dream
of doing such a thing.

It was impossible to shake her off.

And now this frightful woman
wants me to quiz Celia about it.

What do you think she's after?

- Je sais pas.
- I don't know what I should do.

What would you do, were you me?

It is a question most difficult,
madame.

I know how I, Hercules Poirot,
would act in any circumstance.

But how you would act, madame,
I do not know that.

I do not know that at all.

Excuse-moi, s'il vous plait.

Hercules Poirot speaks.

Ah, my dear doctor...

If Poirot can be of any assistance...

He comes at once.

Tout de suite.

George! My coat and my hat,
s'il vous plaît!

Yes, sir.

Madame, it is my dear friend
Dr Willoughby. He has... some trouble.

Please to forgive me.
You haven't answered my question.

What should I do about
the dreadful Burton-Cox?

The thing that you should do, madame,

and this I advise you
to do most strenuously,

is nothing, rien.

Merci.

- Oh, mais oui.
- Poirot, thank God!

I am so sorry. Hello, Poirot.

I heard you were coming.

Ah, Detective Sergeant Beale!

Detective Inspector.

Was he still practising,
Dr Willoughby?

He'd been semi-retired for years.

In effect, I run the institute.

But my father kept his office
and continued his research.

He saw patients?

He hasn't treated anyone
for a long time.

This, it is how he was discovered?

That's correct.

- Seen enough?
- Oui.

- Drain it off.
- Sir.

In your kind of work, Doctor, is
this kind of contraption normal?

Hydriatic procedures in
the treatment of insanity

were quite common

I was not, I'm afraid, ever
convinced of their efficacy.

But I was the junior
and he was my father.

And your father,
he employed this treatment?

He gave up on it in the end.

Concluded it was dangerous.

Looks like he was hit
on the head first.

Come away, Doctor.

I hope you don't
mind that I called

for Monsieur Poirot
straight away.

No, I don't.

Poirot and I have worked together
before.

I hope you don't mind
my asking you

to vouch for your
movements last night.

You surely don't regard me
as a suspect?!

I'm just doing my job, sir.

This was my own father.

The procedure is quite standard,
cher ami.

Did you sleep at home?

No.

No. My wife lives in Kent
with the children.

It's not always convenient
for me to travel home at night.

So I keep an apartment here.

- In the institute?
- Upstairs. Nothing glamorous.

And that's where
you stayed last night?

Yes.

Please excuse me.

Did you know your father
was in the building?

No, I had absolutely no idea.

But he keeps strange hours.
I mean... kept.

Dr Willoughby! Are you OK?

There's a cop on the door.

Please don't be alarmed, Marie.

This is my assistant,
Miss McDermott.

- Mademoiselle.
- Who are these guys?

What's going on around here?

It's very good to see you,
Mrs Oliver.

You should call me Ariadne.

Thank you for coming.
You said you worked nearby.

- Yes. A solicitor's office.
- Really?

We have much to catch up on,
haven't we, Celia?

Mm-hm.

It must have seemed odd,
my ringing up out of the blue.

I haven't been a very conscientious
godmother, I know.

I don't remember
coming to your confirmation.

- I don't remember having one.
- Oh, dear.

But you sent a very nice
cheque on my 21st birthday.

So I would say your
duties are done.

Bizarre, though. I saw your photo
in the paper this morning.

Crime writer of the year.
And now we're having tea.

Yes, well... You see, a woman
came UP and button-holed me.

She said 'I believe you have a
god-daughter named Celia Ravenscroft.'

Oh. Was she a friend of mine?

A Mrs Burton-Cox. She
said she thought

you might be going
to marry her son.

- Douglas, is it?
- Desmond.

Desmond. What does Desmond do?

He's a pianist.

Splendid!

- Making any money?
- God, no.

He's still at the Academy.
He gets a recital now and then.

It takes quite a while
to become a concert pianist.

I... I don't know what you know.

But I'm fond of Desmond.
And he's fond of me.

But his mother is
something else entirely.

What did she want?

She thought that,
since you were my godchild,

I might be able
to ask you something.

Something quite delicate.

What she went on to say was...

'Can you find out if her
father murdered her

mother or her mother
murdered her father?'

For God's sake, how dare she?!

She actually said that?! The beast!

She thought I might know
something about it.

But at the time, I was on a
lecture tour of America.

And you were... What, 14?

I was 12.

I was good friends with your mother.

We were finished together in Paris.

But then I married
and went somewhere

and she married and
went somewhere.

And then your father
was posted again.

- Was it Rhodesia?
- India.

But I was sent to school in England.

In the holidays, I boarded
with a family in Suffolk.

I hardly saw Mummy and Daddy until
they retired to Eastbourne.

But you weren't at Eastbourne
when it...

No. I was away at school.

What can you tell me, Ariadne?

- Have you got any inside knowledge?
- No, my dear. I haven't.

I know only what I read
in the papers.

No obvious motive.

No sign of a quarrel. No
evidence of attack from outside.

Nobody knows.

That's just it. Nobody knows.

I was shielded from it
when I was young.

But I think of it constantly.

Please, please find out
what happened.

Not for Mrs Burton-Cox. For me.

I have to know.

Will you help me, Ariadne?

I have to help Celia.

The girl deserves to know.

Yet I can't, for the life of me,
see what to do!

How may one discover anything
years afterwards?

I know you're busy. But will
you help me look into it?

Je suis desole, madame.

I have an affair of consequence
to which I must attend.

The matter of the Ravenscrofts,
it is in the past.

And Poirot, he must march
in the present.

Give me one moment of your time.

My friend Margaret Ravenscroft
died a horrible death.

I have to find out why.

What should I do?

Bien sur.

Madame, what have you told to me, hm?

A husband and wife who never argue,
who live in complete harmony.

Whoever has heard
of such a thing?!

There was a motive.
There is always a motive.

And if the police, they could not
find this motive at the time,

then this motive, it is...
How do you say?

It is... unorthodox.

The answer, madame, lies in the past.

You must delve into the past.

You say they lived
near to Eastbourne?

You have acquaintance there?

Then go! Allez-y! Allez-y!

Drive about, ask the questions.
Be the person with a nose.

Oh, I see.
Someone will remember something.

Always someone remembers something.

You mean elephants.

Sorry, I was thinking of elephant
s at that dinner last night.

With hesitation, I ask why.

Because the meringue
got stuck in my teeth.

I see. The pathway of logic,
it is there somewhere.

Meringue, dentures.

Ivory, elephants.

Must find the elephants.

Elephants can remember.

Then go. Drive about,
ask the questions.

Be the person with a nose.

If I had to say which was most
likely, I should say my father.

It's more natural for a man
to shoot someone, isn't it?

I don't think my mother
would have fired a gun.

Who else was in the house
when it happened?

There was an old housekeeper.
She was half blind and a bit deaf.

Sometimes there was my aunt.

And there was a foreign girl.
An au pair girl.

She'd be my governess
when I was young.

She'd come back to help Mummy,
who'd been unwell.

Ariadne!

My Word!

- Come in!
- Thank you.

Where did we last meet?
The Llewellyn wedding, was it?

All the bridesmaids
in a vile shade of apricot!

Funny, the things one remembers.

Bridesmaids!

Geldings.

Dogs.

Other things one forgets.
I saw my god-daughter the other day.

Celia Ravenscroft.
Do you remember the Ravenscrofts?

The Ravenscrofts.

Wait a minute. That was that
very sad tragedy, wasn't it?

- Yes. It wasn't far from here.
- I never knew them in Sussex.

I knew them in Amritsar.
Not in Sussex.

She used to wear a wig.
Do you remember?

- Who?
- Margaret? Yes!

She wore a wig!

I don't know if she had cancer
if she was just bald.

She tried to persuade me to get one.

Bit bloody hard in Amritsar!

Awful business though.

At the time of the shooting,
I was in America.

- Speaking engagements.
- You're so modern, Ariadne!

No-one else in my circle
has speaking engagements!

They only left the house
to take a walk.

They didn't come back
for their dinner.

Somebody or other found them dead.

The revolver was lying
by their bodies.

Bloody hard on the dog, I thought.

Rotten way to treat an animal.

- They kept a revolver in the house?
- Military type. They often do.

Fear of the natives, you see.

Not usually a problem in Sussex.

Unfathomable things
in everybody's lives.

- She was neurotic, always.
- Was she?

Very nervy.
Didn't like India at all.

Odd girl.

And the other one.
I expect you heard the gossip.

What was the gossip, Julia?

He was writing his memoirs.
She was taking dictation.

- Who? Margaret?
- No!

The French girl!

She was young. And French.

There was talk.

People thought he might
have shot his wife

because he
wanted to marry her.

- Then why shoot himself as well?
- Good point!

I always thought
it was more about Margaret.

I can't help thinking
there might have been a man.

- Why do you think that?
- Oh, the wigs.

Sexual display. Mating ritual.

I thought you said she had them
because she was bald.

Oh, she was pretty too.

Legs.

All I'm saying is one of them
was having an affair.

In this part of the world, Ariadne,

one either hunts or one has affairs.

It is a variation on what the French
call le bain de surprise.

I should say it's a surprise.

Hot water followed by cold water.
Is that right?

Oui. The scalding hot
and the freezing cold.

The principle, it is one of
severe shock to the system.

And is often used in conjunction
with the electro-shock therapy.

Bloody hell.

I'm quite glad I'm normal.

We may all be thankful,
mon ami,

that we are in possession
of our minds.

Some of us more so than others.

But the question, it is this.

Who has brought le professeur
to this place and secured him?

The night watchman said
the door wasn't forced.

- Is there a key that is missing?
- No.

Everything is in order.

- No fingerprints.
- And Dr Willoughby himself?

The man's in shock.

I let him go back to Kent.
We can interview him later.

Oh. Er... Hi.

- You mind me coming in?
- It's against regulations.

No, no, mademoiselle. Pas du tout.

Levez-vous a l'avance?

Huh?

No.

I've never been down here before.

Creepy, isn't it?

I have the kettle boiling if you
gentlemen would like a cup of tea.

- Do you live locally, Miss McDermott?
- James Street.

It's about a ten-minute walk.

Did you walk home on the night
Professor Willoughby was murdered?

Yes.

- Do you live alone?
- No.

I share an apartment
with some other girls.

Is there someone can vouch for you
being at home all night?

Did I say I was at home all night?
I don't remember that.

May I enquire, mademoiselle,
from where do you originate?

Boston area.

But I always wanted
to come to London.

I guess I just had a yen
to live in England for a while

and do the things
that English people do.

By which, I do not mean murdering
eminent professors of psychiatry.

So you think it was an English
person who has done this.

I'd say the stakes are high,
wouldn't you?

How well did you know
Professor Willoughby?

I didn't know him at all.

You can't tell us anything about
what he's currently working on.

I'm a filing clerk. I don't
know anything about psychiatry.

I do the files from A to Zed.

I just answer the telephone,
make the tea.

If you please to return
to the night of the murder.

At what hour did you leave your work?

Usual time. Around 5:30.

And where did you go then?

I went home.

But you just said you didn't.

I don't think so.

It's a murder inquiry, miss.

Yeah.

OK, I'm sorry.

Er... I went home.

I didn't see any of the other girls.

I had sardines on toast.

And then I went to bed.

So nobody can corroborate
your story.

I guess not.

It is strange that
Dr Willoughby

also has no alibi for
the night in question.

He doesn't? But surely his wife...

He says he spent the night
here in his flat.

Oh.

I see.

I didn't know that.

I assumed he'd gone home.

Does Nanny Matcham - I mean
Mrs Matcham - live here?

- Who shall I say?
- Say... Miss Ariadne.

- Come in, ma'am.
- Thank you so much.

Well, well, it must be years!

It IS years, Nanny.

What a lot of photographs you have.

Yes, I have, haven't I?

All my little boys and girls.

All over the world I went.

I know, Nanny.

Where were you? In India?

Shimla. Hong Kong. Egypt.

That time I came out to the Punjab,

20-odd years ago.

Was it the Ravenscrofts
you were with?

Service family.

- Did you look after their children?
- No.

Not me. No, I was with the Barnabys.

Here's your tea, Mrs Matcham.

Thank you, my dear.

Of course, I knew the Ravenscrofts.

They were great friends
with the Barnabys.

- Were they?
- Yes. And the Burton-Coxes.

- I'll finish that.
- I'll get on with the laundry.

Thank you, my dear.

You really are such a help.

Did you say the Burton-Coxes?

Or did I mean the Carter-Foxes?

You know who I mean.
They were great friends.

Everybody was very friendly
out there.

Did you by any chance
meet the Ravenscrofts

when you
were on that visit?

No, I didn't.

What were they like?

Well...

They had that trouble.

What trouble was that, Nanny?

Oh, an awful thing happened.

Did it?

I heard they were a nice couple.

Oh. Yes, yes, they were
a very nice couple.

And it was a shock.

They said that she'd
always been touched.

And then there was that story
of the baby and the river.

Took the babe from its pram.

And threw it into the river.

Just threw it into the river.

What was the trouble
in Amritsar, Nanny?

Well, she was in that mental place.

And they let her out.

It happened all over again.

What happened, Nanny?

They'd let her have them back,
the boy and the girl.

It was the boy this time.

Of course, we all knew it was her.

Who, Nanny?

Well, whichever one of them it was.

It's so lovely to see you again.

I remember you when you had
your little button boots.

You followed me down the lane.

They...

They fell off a cliff.

Didn't they?

Or something of that kind.

Something of that kind, Nanny, yes.

Nanny?

Mrs Buckle, she's fast asleep.

- Perhaps you could...
- She likes her nap.

- Leave her to me.
- Thank you.

Ma'am, was you asking
about the general and his wife?

- Yes. Did you know them?
- Used to char for them, I did.

My day was a Tuesday so I...

Do you mind if I ask you something
direct? I've had a long day.

- Do you think it was a suicide pact?
- No. Not them.

They were happy. She
was a bonny woman.

Always beautifully turned out.

I believe she'd take n
to wearing a wig.

- Yeah, she had several wigs.
- Several?

Four. Proper expensive. One was auburn.
One had little grey curls.

She used to send them
to a place up in London

to get redressed
. Eugene and something.

- Was she in poor health?
- She was.

I don't know what
was wrong with her,

but she had to
have an operation.

She went up Harley Street.
When she come back, she was better.

- The general?
- A bit of heart trouble.

But he took his pills
and he was fine.

He enjoyed it when the
sister came to visit.

- Sister? Whose sister?
- Lady Ravenscroft's.

I didn't know she had a sister.

Sir, I appreciate
this is a time of loss. But...

You say Professor Willoughby
was retired.

I said semi-retired.

Did he come to the institute
every day?

My father kept to his own timetable.
Which was, I concede, erratic.

He'd work all night and sleep
all day if it suited him.

Was he married?

My mother passed away
some years ago.

- Never remarried? Some gentlemen do.
- No.

No, he did not remarry.

Does the Willoughby Institute
pass to you now, sir?

Not at all. It's run by a trust.

I'm a trustee, that's all.

Are you aware of any
resentment,

any animosity, professional
or otherwise,

which your father
might have incurred?

My father was very highly respected.

And it was last night
that you told me

that it is many years since
your father abandoned

his experiments with
the hydrotherapy.

Yes, that's right.

And this is not a technique
that you yourself employ?

No. I talk to my patients.

I prescribe appropriate medication.

Look, the hydro room
has been in disuse

for just about as long
as I can remember.

And yet the murderer
knew how to use it.

So it would seem.

I think you know how to use it too.
Don't you, sir?

I thought you might need some tea.

Thank you, Jacqueline.

Mrs Willoughby,
your house is charming.

Thank you.

I understand you also keep a small
apartment at the institute.

That's not mine. That's his.

I've barely been in it.

Ahem.

Sugar?

Must have been someone quite strong,
or more than one person,

to have manipulated the professor
into the contraption.

Either that or he got
into it voluntarily.

Why on earth would he do so?

Je ne sais pas.

But it seems as though
someone is giving

him back a soupcon
of his own medicine.

Medicine he hasn't used
in nigh on 20 years.

You think it's a patient
with a grievance?

It's possible.

PIANO

Celia, darling, we're rehearsing.

We need to talk.

I've only got this room booked
for an hour. Can you come back?

Hello. Inspector Beale, isn't it?

Good evening, Mrs Oliver.
Are you well?

I'm absolutely jiggered.
I've spent all day

driving round Sussex
chasing elephants.

Right. Well... Good luck.

No, no, you must think
me a complete ninny.

I don't mean real elephants.
I mean people elephants.

I'm trying to find
out if anyone can

recall anything of the
Ravenscroft case.

Eastbourne. The couple
on the clifftops.

- That was a curly one.
- Still is.

I know the officer on the case.

Bill Garroway. Retired now.

May I have his number?

I should have it here somewhere.

Celia?

Ohh!

Are you all right?

Oh! Good, strong black coffee.
Just what I need.

Merci, madame.

These are all the people
I interviewed.

I wrote down everything
that seemed pertinent.

But it's such a muddle.

The principal suggestions are these.

That General Ravenscroft was writing
his memoir of his India days.

And that he was smitten
with a young woman

who acted
as his secretary.

The result being that
he shot his wife

because he hoped
to marry the girl.

But then was horror-stricken
by what he had done.

And shot himself.

Or Margaret discovered the affair.

And then shot him.

And then herself.

Oh, and Margaret had been ill.

Possibly cancer.

It appears her hair had fallen out.

Because she had several wigs.

It says here... she had four wigs.

Four.

What do you think, madame?

Do you think that seems
a little excessive?

I do really. You might have one,

and an extra one for when you
sent the other to be dressed.

But why did she have four?

- I haven't got anywhere, have I?
- Mais bien.

I think it will always
remain a mystery, madame.

And now I must set
myself to consider

the case of Professor
Willoughby.

- I bid you good night.
- I even went to see my old nanny.

She knew the Ravenscrofts in India.

She was sure there was
a mental case in the family.

One of them - Nanny wasn't sure which
- was unstable.

- One of whom?
- One of the sisters.

- The sisters?
- Margaret had a sister.

Never heard of her before.

She wasn't at Margaret's wedding.

That's odd in itself, isn't it?

Continuer de parler, madame.

She was in an asylum for years.

It seems possible
that she'd killed children.

Even, perhaps, her own children.

Then she'd had treatment.

Then she was cured. Or paroled.
Or released, at any rate.

She went out to Margaret in India,
where there was another incident.

Again connected with children.
Which was hushed up.

But might that explain
what's worrying Mrs Burton-Cox?

- Insanity in the family.
- Non, non.

No, madame, that is conjecture
merely.

What you discovered
in Sussex was merely

the mirrors and the smoke.
Nothing real.

Madame, what is certain
is that they were a couple

who were
devoted to each other

and lived together happily.

So why, on the evening
of the most beautiful day,

should they take a walk together
along the cliffs,

taking with them a revolver
and a dog?

- What's the dog got to do with it?
- Je sais pas.

But all of your elephants,
they mentioned the dog.

Yes.

Tell to me something that was said.

One of the elephants
said

that the dog was devoted
to Lady Ravenscroft.

Another said that it bit her.

No, no. It is nothing.

Merely an elephant remembering a dog.

I can help you no further, madame.
Pardonnez-moi.

My name is Desmond Burton-Cox.

Yes. I have heard of the
enquiries of your mother.

Monsieur, please to be brief.
As you can see, I am very busy.

My mother had no right
pestering Mrs Oliver like that.

It's no concern of hers
whether I marry Celia.

Mothers are always concerned.

She's not really my mother.
I'm adopted.

Why are you here, monsieur?

Someone attacked me at the
music school this evening.

- And you do not know who it was.
- No, I don't.

The point is,
my mother's a little... unhinged.

I fear she may have
put someone up to it.

Why should she wish to do that?

When I was a child, let's just say
she did some terrible things.

Now she wants to stop me
getting married.

She's been trying to scare Celia
with awful rumours...

How long have you known
Mademoiselle Celia, monsieur?

All my life.

My people were in India, like hers.

I was boarded for the holidays
in Suffolk. We played together.

But why should your mother
wish to stop you getting married?

Because she's mean, possessive.

If you go against her,
she's vindictive.

When I was 15, she took
me to a psychiatrist.

Pour quoi?

I'd formed an attachment to someone
and I wouldn't give it up.

My mother was livid and marched
me off to Dr Willoughby.

Please to sit.

Oh, darling!

What the goddam hell
have you been saying?

My wife...

I thought you had her under control!

And who saw you that evening?

I can't remember.
I don't know if anyone saw me.

I might have gone for a walk.

I can't remember.

What was your father working on?

Did he have...
a special line of enquiry?

Behaviour patterns in twins.

Genetic characteristics,

similar and dissimilar environments,

blood types, pathologies.

What else would you like to know?

The name of someone who could vouch
for your whereabouts, Doctor.

Otherwise, you're in a bit of
a sticky wicket, aren't you?

Hey.

Got a minute?

Pardon?

May I exchange a word or
two, Detective Inspector?

If you would be so kind.

Inspector Garroway, if you please
to tell us everything you know.

The Ravenscrofts married in 1913.

She was a well-born girl.
Originally from Kent.

She had a sister, Dorothea,
who married a Captain Jarrow.

They were blighted by
misfortune though.

Dorothea's husband died in the war.

Leaving her with two children.

The youngest, a boy,
fell into a pond and drowned.

At first, they said
the older sister was to blame.

But then it turned out
there was another story.

One of the neighbours said the
mother herself had done it.

Got angry with the boy.

Pushed him in the pond.
Held him under.

She breaks down under questioning.

I mean, she went raving mad.

Had to be hospitalised.

She spends years in treatment.

And then, for some reason,
they pronounce her cured.

And she returns to live
with the family.

So, Mr Garroway, was she
staying with the Ravenscrofts

when they were shot?

- No.
- Are you sure?

Yes. She died three weeks before.

She takes a lot of tranquilisers
and she sleepwalks.

One night, she leaves the house,

wanders along the cliff edge,

loses her footing,
and over she goes.

They don't find her
till the next morning.

Lady Ravenscroft took it very bad.

Had a bit of a breakdown herself.

She spends a fortnight
in a sanatorium.

Then she comes back,
apparently better.

Three days later, she's dead.

No-one has the first idea
of a motive, then or now.

The general has a good record.

The wife is well liked.

They played piquet in the evening.

Go for walks.

No money worries.

A bit of poor health,
but time of life.

Were there fingerprints
on the weapon?

Clear prints of the both of them.

But no suggestion
as to who fired it last.

Could there be a third party?

They would have had to
have got ruddy close!

No, it all points to a
suicide pact and yet...

With the suicide,
they leave the notes.

- Exactly.
- Could someone have stolen the note?

Who else was in the house
onthatday?

There was...

A Betsy Whittaker.

Cook and housekeeper. Been with
them since the dawn of time.

Didn't see too clearly.
Nor hear too clearly either.

There was a visitor staying.
A Zelie Rouxelle.

Foreign. Don't think
she understood much.

And the gardener.
His alibi stood up. That's it.

Have you interviewed
Betsy Whittaker?

She was more concerned
about the dog.

Le chien.

What do you think happened,
Superintendent?

I think old sins have long shadows.

That's what my mother used to say.

Oui.

Madame, do we have the name
of the supplier of the wigs?

Why are you suddenly interested?
You didn't care tuppence before!

I've got that. It's Eugene and Rosentelle.
Formerly of Bond Street.

Now Tooting Bec.

Good afternoon.
Have you an appointment?

No, I'm afraid I haven't.

You're in luck. Monsieur Eugene
can do you in 10 minutes.

- Is it a permanent today?
- No, no.

That sounds horrible.

I don't think it
could be much worse

than it already is,
do you, madam?

Let us take off the
split ends, at least.

No, thank you. I would
simply like to ask you

some questions about Eugene and
Rosentelle of Bond Street.

- Hairpieces to the gentry.
- Oh, the old days.

Bond Street, Bert. Remember?

That was the life.

But Tooting seems most pleasant.

What does madam want?

I would like to ask you
about a former client.

- I want to know about some wigs.
- I'm terribly sorry.

We do not do wigs no more.

They were for a friend of mine.
A person I went to school with.

Lady Ravenscroft.

You was at school
with Lady Ravenscroft?

Yes. Yes, I was.

Where do you live now,
Buckingham Palace?

Mayfair.

How may we be of assistance,
Your Ladyship?

Perhaps you remember the tragedy
at Eastbourne 13 years ago.

I'm looking into it
on behalf of their daughter,

the Honourable
Celia Ravenscroft.

Oh, Lady Ravenscroft.
Yes. She was so nice.

Good-looking too. I remember
reading about it in the paper.

She had four wigs, didn't she?

- Do people often have four?
- Most people have two.

Lady Ravenscroft had two
to begin with.

Then she ordered extra.

Did she come to Bond Street
to collect them?

No. I think it was a young
lady, a French lady, come up

and give us all the sizes
and colours and styles.

There was one with a pretty
grey streak in it for parties.

And one with strawberry-blonde
curls, I recall.

One of Bert's finest.

I remember thinking,
when I read about the business,

'That's bleedin' odd.
It's only three weeks ago

she's bought new wigs.

Now she's gone and shot herself.
Imagine!

Ah.

Mademoiselle Ravenscroft.
Hercules Poirot.

I...

I thought Mrs Oliver was meeting me.

Ah. I see the Madame
Oliver,

she has been rather vague
with her invitation.

It is I that you are meeting,
mademoiselle.

Please to permit.

I am a private detective.
I assist Madame Oliver

with her enquiries
on your behalf.

Please to sit, mademoiselle.

Thank you.

Mademoiselle, Monsieur Burton-Cox,
he has been to see me.

Oh. I thought
he was rehearsing all day.

There's a concert tomorrow.
Beverley Hall. Quite important.

It was last night that he has
come to see me, mademoiselle.

He cares for you most deeply.

Mademoiselle, may I ask you
a question that is personal?

I don't know who you are so...

Do you wish to marry
Desmond Burton-Cox?

Yes, I do. Satisfied?

Then nothing should prevent it.

If you are in love
with Monsieur Desmond Burton-Cox,

then that
is all that matters.

The rest of your life with
Monsieur Desmond Burton-Cox is all

that you should be concerned with.
N'est-ce pas?

- Is he well provided for financially?
- Excuse me. That's damned rude.

- Pardon.
- He has a rather pitiful allowance.

But I have my own means.
I work for a living.

Bien sur.

This allowance,
mademoiselle,

it is something that his
mother could withhold?

You mean she'd cut off the money
if he marries me?

I hadn't thought of that.

- You know who is his natural mother?
- No, no, I don't.

Does he? I don't think so.

He doesn't worry about it.
He's not a worrying kind.

But you are, mademoiselle. Mais oui?

You are.

Tell to me, if you please,
Madame Burton-Cox,

was she friendly
with your late mother and father?

Did you ever meet her as a child?

I don't think I did.
I know she was out in India.

My people were too. But I was at
school or holidaying in Suffolk.

That's where I met Desmond.
In the care of a French girl.

Yes, yes. Zelie. Lovely Zelie.

Look, whoever you are,
if I'm going to marry Desmond,

and live with him forever,
I need to know the truth.

I don't want dark secrets
in our lives.

I want the truth.

But the truth, mademoiselle...

...she can be cruel.

Hercules Poirot speaks.

Poirot, it's Inspector Beale.
I have that information you asked for.

Desmond Burton-Cox's natural mother
was an actress.

She moved to California,
where she found

considerable success
in moving pictures

under the name Katy Lestrange.

18 months ago, Katy
Lestrange died of

a barbiturate
overdose in Pasadena.

She left her entire fortune,
several million dollars,

to her son
Desmond in a trust.

He gets it when he's 25.

- And who administers this trust?
- Who do you think?

Mrs Burton-Cox.

Can you get for me
the deed of covenant?

I'll give it a go. Oh, and
Poirot, could you come over

to the
Willoughby Institute?

- There's been something of a turn-up.
- Oui. Tout de suite.

Miss McDermott,
will you come in now, please?

Repeat to Mr Poirot
what you said earlier.

Asseyez-vous, mademoiselle.

On the night of the murder,

Dr Willoughby was with me.

Here in his flat.

In bed.

He's a decent man.

He's trying to save my reputation.

But I can't stand by and see him
swing for something he didn't do.

And he was with you all of the night?

Till dawn.

We slept a little.

Then I went home. Had a bath.

And came back to work again.

It must have been
at that time

that the night watchman
raised the alarm.

David...

Dr Willoughby...

...elected to keep his mouth shut
for my sake.

But he is a fool.

It is a brave thing that you do,
ma petite.

My reputation was shot
in the States.

Might as well be shot here too.

I have a question.

It was last summer
that you arrived in England?

Yes. Six months ago.

On the SS "France".

So you were still living in Boston
in March of this year.

Yes.

Can you remember what you
were doing on the 17th?

The 17th of March?

Oui.

- How am I expected to remember that?
- You do not recall this day?

No. I don't.

No idea.

Bon.

Do you know a Mademoiselle
Celia Ravenscroft?

Never heard of her. Who is she?

Oh, it is of no consequence.

Detective Inspector,
may I have the use of your car?

Merci.

I'm not exactly proud of myself,
Poirot.

Things are pretty awkward
around here.

Somehow Jacqueline seems
to have found out

about the whole
wretched business.

You asked her to perjure herself
in court and she would not?

I'm afraid that is correct.

Mademoiselle Marie McDermott,
she provides you with the alibi

and you are no longer the suspect.

She said something about the
dictates of her conscience.

She's quite religious, you know.

- She is Catholic?
- Irish background, I believe.

Nice girl.

Tell to me more about the
patients of your father.

Do you recall a Dorothea Jarrow?

Of course. He treated her
for quite a long time.

- My father took a special interest.
- Merci.

- She's dead now, isn't she?
- Oui, d'accord.

What can you tell to me
about her treatment?

Mrs Jarrow was considered to be
one of my father's triumphs.

Her husband had died
on the Western front.

That left her rather fragile,
I'm afraid.

So she was disturbed mentally.

No. No, that this point,
she was not thought to be.

But her GP had called in my father

because she didn't
seem to be getting

over her bereavement
in the normal way.

Whatever that may be.

To my father's eyes,
Dorothea's condition

presented very decided dangers.

She was prone to mood swings
and acts of violence.

He thought she should be kept
under observation.

And he was proved right. Because
then the first incident happened.

Oui. A boy, he has drowned.

Yes. How did you know?

According to Mrs Jarrow,
her elder child, a girl,

had attacked the
younger, a little boy.

She said she hit him
with a spade

and he fell into an
ornamental pond and drowned.

At first, Mrs Jarrow's version
was believed.

And then other stories
started to emerge.

Housemaid, telegraph boy.

Both said they saw
Mrs Jarrow push her son

into the water
and hold him under.

The court ruled that Mrs
Jarrow should be committed

to secure psychiatric care.
And she was.

But you see,
my poor late father subscribed

to a new school
of treatment.

Which held that once certain
rehabilitation targets had been reached,

targets attainable by hydrotherapy
and electro-shock,

the patient could resume
a normal life.

And this treatment of hydrotherapy,
it was administered to Dorothea?

Yes. And in due course, two
or three years, home she went.

She was considered
to be completely recovered.

Shortly afterwards,
she went to India.

Stayed with her twin sister
who was in Amritsar...

Excuse me, mon ami.

- Did you say her twin sister?
- Yes.

- They were twins.
- Yes.

Madame Jarrow and Lady Ravenscroft.

Margaret and Dorothea were twins?!

Why has no person told to me this?

But this was my father's
special area of research.

- I thought you knew.
- No.

He was an authority on twins.

So perhaps Margaret suffers
from the same malady as Dorothea.

No, no, she was perfectly sane.

And devoted to looking after
her unfortunate sibling.

General Ravenscroft had throughout
paid for his sister-in-law

to receive the best treatment
in England.

He was on good terms with my father.

When they returned from India,
they often had Dorothea to stay.

Why was he so kind to her?

Well, I think I can tell you that.

When he was a young subaltern,

Dorothea was considered
a fabulously beautiful woman.

Alistair Ravenscroft
fell in love with her.

And then, I think,
he caught a glimpse.

Saw behind the eyes the danger zone.

And so he proposed to Margaret
instead.

He marries the sister
but he is in love with them both!

The devil!

Poirot, he owes to you an apology,
madame. He is imbecile.

I see now that the two cases
are connected.

There is a point of conversion
which links them.

- What is that?
- The Willoughby Institute.

Morning.

Ah, Poirot. I forgot you'd be here.

- One word if I may, Doctor.
- Please.

Mademoiselle.

In your files, mon ami,
there are many histories

that are
very absorbing.

But you know there is a patient
that is missing?

I ask about the boy who
has 15 years of age.

A certain Desmond Burton-Cox.

Where is his case file?

Um...

There is no case file, Poirot.

The boy, he has been
brought to you many times.

Yes, he was.
But I saw him unofficially.

I took no payment and
so there is no file.

You took no payment?

Well, not in the usual way.

- I'm sorry, I do not understand.
- She had no money, Poirot.

Look, self-control is not one
of my stronger qualities.

I just have to live with it.

I see.

But I only ask about the boy Desmond.

What was he like?

Remarkable power of recall.

The smallest details of his
childhood were easy to surface.

But lacking in self-confidence.

I believe that he had an interest
that was almost obsessional.

In... I do not know who.
A woman or an older man?

A French woman, I believe.

Zazie. Susie.

She was 25 or so at the time
and he 15.

Would you say he was in love?

I would say so, yes.

Not that I know very much
about that particular emotion.

I've spoken to my god-daughter
Celia.

Have you?
Oh, good. What did she say?

First, there's someone
I wish you to meet.

Mrs Burton-Cox,
this is Monsieur Poirot.

Monsieur Poirot is... my assistant.

Enchante, madame.

Is he French?
I can't stand the French.

Non, madame. I am Belgian.

You have concerns about
the marriage of your son Desmond

with Mademoiselle
Celia Ravenscroft.

That is so.

Young people today,
they rush into things!

But it's important to know
the background, don't you think?

The psychological background.

Well, there are certain... risks
that one might not wish to take.

But the persons taking
these risks

are Celia and Desmond,
not you, madame.

399 your pardon?

Desmond, he is not your son by birth.

What's that got to do with anything?

When he was young,
did you take care of him?

Of course I did! Mrs Oliver, I...

- You must have had some help.
- Help? Why would I need help?

- I'm his mother!
- Perhaps in the holidays.

Oh... Yes, of course.
In the holidays, he went to stay

with some
people in Suffolk.

And in Suffolk, he was in
the care of a French girl.

Zelie. Zelie Rouxelle.

I've had quite enough of this!

Goodbye!

What occurred between Desmond
and Zelie Rouxelle, madame?

Do either of you have the
faintest idea what it's like?!

When your own child takes one look
at you and starts to scream?

And after a few months
with that beloved nanny,

I could do
nothing with him!

She's a...
She's a devious little baggage!

And I made jolly sure to intercept
her letters later on.

He's my son and I will say
what happens to him!

Ladies and gentlemen! Five minutes
till the start of the recital!

- Mademoiselle Celia.
- Poirot.

Mademoiselle, do you know,
and please to forgive me,

how it was that Aunt Dorothea died?

- Yes, I do.
- And your cousins.

The little girl and the little boy
who was drowned?

We tended not to speak of them.

But perhaps they were
also looked after

during the holidays by
your au pair Zelie.

No, no. Zeliejust had me
and Desmond.

But she returned to assist
your mother at the end.

And she also takes dictations from
your late father, does she not?

Yes.

So what was the involvement
of your late father

with the
Willoughby Institute?

- What is the Willoughby Institute?
- It was where your aunt was treated.

- I don't know anything at all.
- I see.

Um...

Mademoiselle, please to
think very carefully.

Is it possible that there was
anyone else staying at Overcliff

at the time of the deaths
of your parents?

Anyone perhaps whom the police
did not know about.

I don't know how because
if there had been,

Zelie would have mentioned
it, wouldn't she?

Oui.

Have you remained in contact
with Zelie?

I wrote to her countless times.
But all my letters were sent back.

She simply disappeared.

I'd love to have seen her.
She was a marvellous character.

- And Desmond, does he write to her?
- How could he?

We don't know where she lives.

And you yourself, have you ever
returned to Overcliff?

No.

Why? Why, do you think I should?

Drive out my demons,
that sort of thing?

Ladies and gentlemen!

Please take your seats!

Madame Oliver! I'm so sorry.

- They are seated.
- I'm so sorry.

- Is Celia there?
- Yes, she is.

- Good. That's very good.
- No, monsieur!

Merci.

The key, it is Zelie.
Of this I am sure.

But how do we find her?

Miss Ravenscroft,
good of you to come.

Look at all those diamonds!

He's playing without music.
Clever chap.

There was a foreign girl. She'd

be my governess
when I was young.

She'd come back to help Mummy.

I'd formed an attachment to someone

and I
wouldn't give it up.

After that beloved nanny,

I could do
nothing with him!

All my letters were sent back.

She simply disappeared.

Very good.

- How long is the interval?
- That is it!

That is it!

How could I be so stupid?!

Enjoying it, Ariadne?

Please to forgive the intrusion,
monsieur.

Poirot. I really can't
talk to you now.

We're about to go on
for the second half.

Non! It will not be
possible for you

to play the remainder
of this concert.

Unless you give to me the address
of Mademoiselle Zelie Rouxelle.

- I don't know it.
- Yes, you do know it.

I can't remember it.
We have to go on.

Monsieur, you play
Bach from memory.

You have the memory
of an elephant.

I demand to know the address

of Mademoiselle Zelie
Rouxelle, tout de suite!

Mr Burton-Cox! It's time, gentlemen!

Merci, monsieur.

Taxi!

Mr Poirot!

- It's Bill Garroway.
- Superintendent.

This is Sprat. Wife named him that.

She died. I'm stuck with him!

Oh, Inspector Beale
told me you'd be here.

Asked me to deliver this. Ah.

- He's been called out on a case.
- Merci.

I am so sorry you have been put
to so much trouble.

No trouble at all, sir.
I bid you good night.

Come on, Sprat!

Superintendent.

Tell to me about Sprat.

Does he bite?

He bites his own backside mainly.

Not exactly clever.

And please to recollect,
the dog

that lived with the General and
Lady Ravenscroft, did it bite?

It's a funny thing
you mentioned that, sir.

The housekeeper said
the dog had turned

on its mistress a
couple of days before.

And sure enough, when we did
the autopsy on Lady Ravenscroft,

there's a couple of dog bite marks
maybe a week or two old.

So that dog, it was clever, huh?

Merci.

Taxi!

Where are you off to
in such a hurry?

Paris! Whitehaven
Mansions

and then Victoria station
for the boat train!

- Vite!
- Right you are, guvnor.

I will be with you in one moment,
monsieur.

Merci.

Hercules Poirot.

Do I have the honour to address
Mademoiselle Zelie Rouxelle?

As I said to you in my
telegram, I wish to ask you

about the General and
the Lady Ravenscroft.

I believe
that you are employed by them.

Yes. I was an au pair for Celia.

You knew also the boy Desmond.
Desmond Burton-Cox.

- Yes, we still correspond.
- But you do so in secret, I think.

His mother disapproves.

There is nothing of which to disapprove.
We are friends.

He and Celia intend to marry.

He has told me.
I am pleased for them.

But difficulties are being put
in their way.

Mademoiselle Celia is being asked
to tell to the Desmond family

exactly what
happened at Overcliff.

- It is now since 13 years.
- But she can not do that.

For she does not know.

It was thought advisable
to tell her nothing.

She accepted it.
She was too young to understand.

She is old enough now to understand.

But what is there to understand,
monsieur?

It was a double suicide.

And you have found no reason
to doubt that?

The police found no reason
to doubt it.

So there is nothing more you can
tell to me, Mademoiselle Rouxelle?

I fear I cannot.

It was a very long time ago.

For how long were you living
at Overcliff before their deaths?

- For two months.
- And the sister of Lady Ravenscroft,

Dorothea Jarrow, she was also living
there at this time, was she not?

How much do you know?

It has to end. You understand that.

Yeah.

It always ends.

I'm so sorry, my darling.

Guys like you are always sorry.

But guess what. I'll be OK.

- May I help you?
- Yes, thank you.

I wonder if you can.

I wanted to see if there
was anything in your files

pertaining to the treatment
of Dorothea Jarrow.

Can I ask what business
this is of yours?

She was my aunt.
I'm Celia Ravenscroft.

- I think something funny is going on.
- Sure.

OK.

Why don't we take a look?

Dorothea Jarrow had been treated
for the mental illness.

But had shown some improvement,
n'est-ce pas?

Yes.

And it was so beneficial
for her to spend some time

in a
normal family home.

And Dorothea and Margaret,
they were fond of each other?

There was a bond between them.

A bond of dependence and love.

And in many ways, they were alike.

Pardon.

But in twins, although
there is this bond of love...

...if something should
occur to break it,

then it is
shattered forever.

Oh yes, I know.

And love, it may easily turn to hate.

And it is easier to
hate

what you have once loved
than to remain indifferent.

Do you speak from experience?

Tell to me about Dorothea Jarrow.

She lived in a state
of terrible strain.

She had had some advanced therapy.

But it seemed not to do much good.

She was never happy.

And she had a great aversion
to children.

Oui. And that led to incidents
most serious, n'est-ce pas?

I heard what happened
in her early life.

I heard what happened in India.

I have no first-hand knowledge
of that.

No, but there are
events

of which you do have the
first-hand knowledge.

Isn't it better to
leave things

when at least they have
been accepted?

Mademoiselle, what happened
on that day at Overcliff,

it could have been a double suicide,
it could have been a murder,

it could have been... one of
a number of possibilities.

But from what you have just said,
from that one little sentence,

I consider that you know
what happened on that day.

And you know what happened
in the weeks before.

I cannot tell you anything.

I'm sorry.

Was there someone else at Overcliff?

Someone of whom
the police know nothing?

No.

I think that you lie.

The General Ravenscroft was
at first in love with Dorothea.

Then his affections, they change.

And he marries her twin sister
Margaret.

What do you suppose that...
that has done to Dorothea?

I suppose that it has
destroyed her, monsieur.

And the general, he has realised.

Yes. He knew.

He had a good heart.

And you were also in love with him,
I think.

You may not speak to me like that.

No, no, mademoiselle. I do not
say that you had a love affair.

I say only that you loved him.

One can love and serve
and still be happy.

Even if one is not loved in return.

You did serve him, mademoiselle.

You served him loyally in the
great crisis of his life.

Tell to me what happened.

I know that you know.

You pretended to the police that
you had only the little English.

Then you left Overcliff at once.

But you were there.
And I need you to tell me

who else
was in the house.

Why should I tell you anything?

My life ended that day.

It was as if I had been shot.

I have hidden myself away.

Here, in a back street in Paris.
Look at me!

I've had no life at all.

Why must I speak now?

Because you have a heart, Zelie.

And because Celia and Desmond,
they need to know.

Mademoiselle, neither you nor I
are married.

We may never be married.

But they should be.

I do hope you had a nice time
in Paris.

I've been to the shipping office.
Here are the records you wanted.

Merci, madame.

Bon.

And Poirot, he has also
a document for you.

This is the deed of
covenant for the legacy

left to Desmond by
his natural mother.

The trust, it is to be administered
by Madame Burton-Cox

and her solicitor as trustees...

...until...

Until he reaches
the age of 25 or

until he marries,
whichever is the earlier.

So if he marries Celia,
he'll come into a fortune.

Oui.

But how does this fit in
with Mrs Burton-Cox wanting

to know about the deaths
of the Ravenscrofts?

She is not concerned with the deaths
of the Ravenscrofts, non.

Her sole concern
is to prevent the marriage.

Why?

Because...

She is stealing the
money of Desmond

and needs to pay it back
before he notices.

So if he marries Celia now...
Fin de partie.

I say, excuse me!
I've lost Celia.

I'm worried. She said something
about going to Eastbourne.

Exorcising ghosts
or some such nonsense.

This was straight after she came
back from the Willoughby Institute.

She has been
to the Willoughby Institute?

Now she has gone to Eastbourne?

Alors, she is in danger.
We must hurry!

Hello.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.
What are you doing here?

Why are you...

Aagh!

Up there, sir! Ravenscroft!

Miss Ravenscroft!

Help! Help!

Come on. It's all right.
We've got you.

You're under arrest!

All safe. All safe.

Monsieur, mademoiselle.

The question to be put, it is this.

Was the deaths of the Ravenscrofts
a suicide?

Or was it murder?

Because one or the other
must be true.

But Poirot, he says to you

that both are true.

And I fear, Mademoiselle Celia,

it is a tragedy of two people
who loved each other,

and who died for love.

And it will be hard for you to hear.

- I'm ready.
- Bon.

When Madame Oliver set out on
her visit to old acquaintances,

Poirot at first
seemed to take no notice.

Alors, he had another
case

which seemed to him
infinitely more important.

For that, I apologise to you, Madame.

For what you found out
in your visits into Sussex,

it was vital for the
solving of both mysteries.

You know who killed
Professor Willoughby?

I have my little theory.

But we shall see.

When I learned that
everything,

it was pointing
to the Willoughby Institute,

I looked at the evidence in the
notebooks of Madame Oliver.

The recollections of these...

...elephants.

At first, they seemed
to have no value.

But everything has a value.

Everyone remembers something.

And so I take from one informant
one detail, from another - another.

And so we have first of all
the evidence of the wigs.

Wigs?

Oui. We learned that Lady
Ravenscroft, she had four wigs.

Four! Now this, for Poirot,
was a puzzle, huh?

Thank you, Zelie.

We know that, on the day
that she died,

Lady Ravenscroft was wearing
the wig with the curls

of the colour of
the strawberry blonde.

Why is that significant? She might
have been wearing any of them.

Oui, but we also have the
evidence of the dog.

- Dog? What dog?
- No. Please, be patient.

This dog, it is devoted
to its mistress.

But in the last few weeks of her
life,

this dog, it has bitten her
more than once.

You mean the dog knew
she would commit suicide?

Non, it is much more simple
than that.

This dog, it knew
what no-one else knew.

It knew that she was not
his mistress.

She looked like his mistress
in the clothes of Margaret.

In the wig of Margaret.

But a dog only recognises
what its nose tells to him.

And this dog recognised
that this was not his mistress.

So who could it be, this woman?

Could it be her twin sister Dorothea?

But that's impossible. She was dead.

But now I come to
something else

that was brought to my attention
by Madame Oliver.

The knowledge that
Lady Ravenscroft

had recently been in a hospital
or a nursing home.

It is believed
that she suffered from cancer.

This I learned from the
evidence of Julia Carstairs

in your
notebook, madame.

So her visits to the hospital
pass unremarked.

I don't think Julia Carstairs
knew what she was talking about!

It does not matter. Because the
General Alistair Ravenscroft,

once he rejects Dorothea
and marries her sister,

Dorothea, she becomes very jealous.

Her life, as you say,
it goes from the rails.

And we have reason to
believe that one and

and possibly two children
died at her hands.

And the general, having the feelings
of guilt so terrible,

pays for her to have treatment
at the Willoughby Institute.

Are you saying, sir,

that the mad aunt shot
the Ravenscrofts?

Non, monsieur.
That is not my solution.

Mademoiselle Celia, I hope you will
not be too dismayed by the truth.

It was Dorothea
who killed your mother.

Often, they would go for a walk
together in the evenings.

But one evening, she returned alone.

- She must have run off.
- She doesn't run off, Dorothea!

She's my wife!
What have you done with her?

- We should look.
- You're right.

- Where were you walking?
- Where we always walk.

Something has happened to Margaret.

Come on, Zelie!

- Lady Ravenscroft! Where are you?
- Margaret!

Margaret!

Margaret! Come on.

We'll take the cliff path.

Margaret!

Margaret!

Margaret, what happened?

Was it your sister?

- It isn't her fault, Alistair.
- Damn her!

What did she do?

She pushed me.

She doesn't know what she's doing.

I know it's bad, Zelie.

- I know I'll die.
- No.

- I'll get a doctor.
- There's no time for a doctor.

Please don't let her suffer for it.

Don't let them give her
that treatment again.

Promise me, Alistair.
Promise me you'll save her.

- Zelie.
- Yes?

Make him do as I ask.

I promise, Margaret.

- I promise.
- Thank you, my darling.

Thank you.

Oh, Margaret.

Margaret!

Zelie wanted to go for help.

But the general, he said no.

'I made a promise. I must keep it.'

He decided what he would do.

And he asked Zelie to help him.

Forgive me, my darling.

Forgive me.

Celia, are you all right?

It's better to know.

Go on.

They made a plan.

They agreed to say it was
Dorothea who walked in her sleep

and fell to her
death, not Margaret.

They hid her in a cottage
for a week or ten days.

The General Ravenscroft
put it about

that his wife had suffered
a nervous collapse.

And was in a sanatorium, recovering.

Zelie, she had gone to London
and bought wigs to fit Dorothea

from Eugene and Rosentelle
of Bond Street.

Then they brought her back.

Good morning, Mrs Whittaker.
Have we something nice for lunch?

Yes, madam.

Everyone accepted that
this was Lady Ravenscroft.

And thought
that she was behaving oddly

because she was still
suffering

from shock at the death
of her sister.

How could she keep it up?
It must have been difficult.

Non, madame. It was not difficult.

Because, at last, she had achieved
what she wanted.

She was married to General
Alistair Ravenscroft.

But how could my father bear it?

As I said, he made a plan.

Zelie, today is your last day
of work.

I am sending you back to Paris.

You cannot do that.

I can, my dear, and I will.

You have given sterling
service but I do not want

you mixed up in this.
Not any more.

Enough is enough.

There, there.

Zelie.

Stop here.

Hold this. Why?

Because I want to kiss you.

- Goodbye, Dorothea.
- Where are you going?

Hell, I expect.

This is for Margaret.

And this is for me.

He had to keep his promise
to his wife.

And he did.

I am so sorry, Mademoiselle Celia.

Bring her in.

Just who are you?
And why did you try to kill me?

Please to take off her cap.

This is Marie Jarrow.

The daughter of your aunt Dorothea.

- You're my cousin?
- How did you work it out, Poirot?

The Boston-Irish, mademoiselle.

They venerate the 17th of March.

- St Patrick's Day.
- Oui. There is always a big parade.

Everyone knows what they were doing
on the 17th of March.

Also, your accent, mademoiselle.

If you are from Boston,
as you say that you are,

in the state of Massachusetts,

then you would pronounce
the last letter of the alphabet zee,

but
you pronounced it zed.

You are Canadian, mademoiselle.

And Poirot, he has heard
this immediately.

Also, you say that you arrived here
on the SS "France".

But non, Poirot, he has examined
the list of passengers.

And there is no Marie McDermott
on the "France".

But there is a Marie Jarrow.

- Your mother killed mine!
- Celia! Please!

And it is you, Mademoiselle Jarrow,

who killed Professor Willoughby.

He deserved it. Did you
see what they did to her?

Those appalling machines?
No wonder she went crazy.

But how did you know?
She was long gone.

When I was at school,
she sent me letters.

I still got them.

She told me what they did to her.

She knew I was too young
to understand.

But one day, I would understand.

And one day, I'd come back.

Why have you waited so long?

I had no money.
I was just a poor secretary.

I had to earn enough
to get to England.

Where you take a job
at the Willoughby Institute.

To be honest, it was too easy.

I knew the professor
came to work late at night.

So I crawl into David's bed.

And he likes a little sleep
after pleasure.

His little sleeps
turn into longer sleeps.

It was very clever, that.

To pretend to provide an alibi
for the Dr Willoughby.

Whereas, in fact, you were providing
an alibi for yourself.

- That is clever.
- Cleverer than you think, madame.

Then she goes to Jacqueline,
the wife of Dr Willoughby,

and confesses her affair.

So that this wife will not provide
the alibi for her husband.

Meanwhile, she has become friendly
with Professor Willoughby.

No doubt you take a great
interest in his work.

I told him I was writing a book.

I told him the Willoughby
Institute was going

to go down big in the
history of psychiatry.

And then you persuade the professor
to show to you the hydro room.

You hit him.

You gag him.

And then you drown him.

Also, mademoiselle,

I know that on the day
that your mother died,

you were here at Overcliff.

You don't know that, Poirot.

Mais oui, mademoiselle.

Attendez.

Here is my proof.

Ohh. Zelie!

Oh, my children.

I was listening.

I have heard everything
that was said.

You know it is true, Marie.

You were here.
Your mother sent for you.

You arrived the day she died.

You do remember.

You arrived just in time
to hear this.

What are you going to do?

I am going to shoot her.

And then I'm going to shoot myself.

You know what? lhave this
overpowering feeling

that... that's
against the law.

Just shooting someone.
Just killing them.

If I could have killed him
over again, I would!

Was it you who tried to strangle me?

All I wanted was to punish her.

Ruin her.

Why should her life be happy?

Mine wasn't.

Mademoiselle Rouxelle.

As soon as I knew what
the general was about to do,

I took Marie
away very quickly.

I thought her life would be
intolerable if she stayed.

I sent her to relations of mine
in Montreal. I told no-one.

And I returned to Paris.

I swore I would never speak of this.

I have broken my vow.
Forgive me, Marie.

Non, mademoiselle.
You have done the right thing.

Please to take her away.

Desmond? Desmond, where are you?

Desmond! If you're with that girl,
I'll skin you alive!

Ah, there you are.
Come home at once!

I hope you do not blame me,
mademoiselle, for asking for your help.

Non, monsieur. I am glad.

Look.

Now they will have their future.

You and I are elephants, you know.

- We're good at remembering.
- Non, non, madame.

We are the human beings.

And human beings, mercifully,
they can forget.

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