Original subtitles

I'm afraid the vicar seems... to have been delayed this morning

but as we sing our first hymn we remember Florence Gibbs, whose sudden passing

last week has shocked and saddened us all.

Her granddaughter, Amy, tells me that this was a favourite of hers.

Breathe on me breath of God.

Your tie's squiffy.

Thank you, Miss Conway.

Wipe your nose.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,

till lam wholly thine,

til all this earthly part of me glows with thy fire divine.

Breathe on me breath of God, so shall I never die.

but live with thee the perfect life of thine eternity.

Do you think Scotland Yard closes for lunch?

Scotland Yard? I doubt it.

Oh what a relief. I have to report a murder.

Really?

Well, two actually and that's so far.

You see,

Florrie Gibbs knew her onions as far as mushrooms were concerned,

and the vicar would hardly forget to wear his mask with his Wellington boots.

I suppose not.

So it has to be Scotland Yard. Murder is easy, you see, as long as nobody thinks it is murder,

which they don't except for me.

And the dreadful thing is I'm starting to have my suspicions about the bumblebee.

I'm sorry, I don't quite follow. You suspect the bumblebee is the murderer?

No, no. I suspect he's going to be the next victim.

He's been quite sluggish.

Unless of course the killer's got their eye on me.

I could be next.

Have you shared your concerns with anyone in Wychwood?

Only with Mr Wonky, and he's the soul of discretion.

Persian.

Melchester. Change here for all trains to London.

This is me.

Platform 2 for the train to London Victoria.

I will be all right, won't I?

I do hope so.

So do I.

For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy.

to take unto himself the soul of our dear sister Lavinia here departed.

We therefore commit her body to the ground...

... earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust...

in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Hello.

Hello.

I don't really know anybody.

Well you do now. I'm Luke Fitzwilliam.

You are coming back?

Of course, Miss Waynflete. This is... ?

Jane Marple. Hello.

I'm Honoria. Were you a friend of Lavinia's?

An acquaintance.

Do come back with Luke, won't you?

Thank you.

Were they very close?

Didn't Lavinia mention her? They were best friends.

Lavinia had so many friends.

Poor old Bumblebee.

Who?

Dr Humbleby...

... looks like death.

Can't you persuade him?

Fat chance.

Geoff's just being sensible.

Back to the surgery and I'll give you the once-over.

No. And it's Doctor Thomas to you, not Geoff.

For God's sake.

Rose.

And she's Miss Humbleby.

Edward, dear, you are a looking a bit peaky.

Is that your expert diagnosis? Peaky?

Edward...

Careful!

Honoria, my dear. In the midst of life...

Major Horton. Our local bigwig. Member of Parliament for Darlow,

and a hot tip for Foreign Secretary after the election.

I'm so sorry. So dreadfully sorry.

I imagine he's very good at public meetings.

I'll introduce you.

- Lydia Horton. -Jane Marple.

Promotion at last. How smart.

Thank you, Mrs Horton. You know about my predecessor's tragic death, Miss Marple?

Lavinia mentioned it, yes.

It was a foolish thing. He neglected to wear a mask when he was spraying his hives,

got a lungful of poison.

Reverend, how's tricks?

Good morning, Bridget.

Can I go through?

By all means.

Luke.

Miss Conway's on a brass-rubbing holiday.

She's touring the county's historic churches, staying at the Seven Stars.

She's American.

Yes, isn't she?

Shall we?

What on earth is that?

Just a popular tune.

I must remember to start rationing the wireless.

Well escalators can be tricky if one's not used to them

but I can't imagine what Lavinia was doing in London.

When had you last seen her?

Oh, when was it?

Where's Hugh got to?

He's over there with someone.

Oh yes. They'll be discussing Hugh's campaign for the general election.

That's James Abbot our local solicitor, a staunch member of the Association.

The Conservative Association.

I doubt Miss Marple imagines Hugh's a socialist.

Sausage roll?

No thank you, Amy.

I don't know why Honoria keeps that ghastly girl on...

Oh, I feel sorry for her, alone in the world since Florrie died.

Florrie Gibbs?

That's right, Amy's grandmother.

She'd been mushroom picking for her supper, and unfortunately picked the wrong sort.

Poisonous. An agonising way to go, apparently.

And less than a week later we lost the vicar.

Stop fussing!

I'm alright.

Is everything alright?

An impressive house, Honoria.

I was born here.

Was there just you?

I had a brother.

And you, Mrs Horton? Are you Wychwood born and bred?

No, no, no, I'm a Hexley girl originally - along by the river.

You know what they say about Hexley girls.

Hugh!

-All true in your case. - Stop it now.

Is it time for your tea Wonky Poo?

Thank you.

Mr Wonky, I presume?

That's what Lavinia called him, yes. He adored her.

Don't! He's had a poorly ear.

Geoff!

Glass of water please.

Let's sit you down.

Can I have a hand back to the surgery? Thank you.

He'll be ticketyboo in no time.

I can't think how I made a mistake with the train times back.

Just as well you've some overnight things.

I brought them just in case. You never know, do you?

How long were you away from Wychwood?

Five years. Well, I came over for my mother's funeral two years ago, but had to go straight

back again to Malaya. And now there's a whole lifetime of stuff to sort out before I move on.

Where to?

Good question.

Nearly there.

You can take my room.

The spare one's like the black hole of Calcutta.

Make yourself at home.

Thank you.

Now, Miss Marple, tell me, how exactly did you know Miss Pinkerton?

I don't remember exactly...

Malaya? What did you do there?

I was a police detective, which comes in very handy when someone's spinning me a yarn.

Oh. Well, in that case. I met Lavinia Pinkerton for the first time on the day she died.

I believe she may have been murdered.

You don't look batty...

Thank you, Mr Fitzwilliam.

... though appearances can be deceptive. - I'm also concerned about Dr Humbleby.

Lavinia told me that he'd been....

Hell.

Hello. Savoy Hotel...

Sorry.

Thanks, Geoff.

Humbleby's dead.

Dr Thomas is moving into Edward's room.

Well, it's lovely of you to come, but I'm off to the Parish Hall.

I'm stuffing election leaflets for Hugh.

Don't you think, under the circumstances...

Oh you want to try and stop me but I can see through your little game.

What? Oh. I'm campaigning for Labour.

Jessie, a few leaflets here or there aren't going to make much difference.

I could make your apologies for you if you'd like. x

Me stay here? Well, if it's the done thing...

tea?

Geoff?

Sorry, she's a bit....

grief affects people in different ways.

What did Humbleby die of?

Acute septicaemia. Blood poisoning.

Edward had cut his finger...

... and Geoff says it must have become infected.

How did he get the cut?

Search me. He was a clumsy old clot...

... clumsy and stubborn. He absolutely refused to countenance Rose marrying Geoff,

and Geoff s perfectly decent and Rose loves him, and just because he's the

modern generation and bang up-to-date...

No no no, wrong cups.

Still, it's all change now, isn't it?

Let's all have lots and lots and lots of sugar!

Come in, Amy.

Goodbye, Doctor Thomas.

Poor old Humbleby.

God rest his soul.

Amen. How good of you to step into Jessie's shoes, Miss Marple.

All hands to the pump.

We'll have you out knocking on doors if you're not careful.

No, thank you. I'm never quite sure about politics.

They also serve who only sit and lick.

We're awfully pleased with Hugh's new photograph. He does wear well, doesn't he?

Yes.

Oh, how tactless of me. I'm so sorry.

No, honestly.

Hugh once asked me to marry him... but I had to say no.

I had Leonard to consider. Excuse me.

Oh dear.

Leonard?

Her brother.

Miss Marple doesn't want to hear our village gossip, Lydia.

I don't mind, really.

Leonard Waynflete was mentally retarded... a simpleton, to use a kinder term,

and Honoria had to take care of him because their parents had died very young.

So she turned down Hugh's proposal.

But then Leonard died - by which time Hugh and I had fallen for each other

and there was, well, there was no going back.

That must have been very hard for both of you.

She came to the engagement party and smiled bravely - but it was only a few weeks

after Leonard's death and after that she shut herself away like a hermit for months.

I still feel a little guilty but...

I'm doing teas.

Where's Miss Waynflete?

Oh, erm... powdering her nose.

Cheer up, Amy. It might never happen.

Oh. Don't stare.

Sorry.

What is the matter?

The hives were infested with mites. The spray to treat them is highly poisonous,

and if the wind's in the wrong direction...

I found him just here.

And he wasn't wearing his mask?

It was still hanging up.

He'd become increasingly absent-minded.

The previous evening, he'd filled his pipe from the tea caddy

instead of his tobacco tin, according to Miss Conway.

Bridget?

She was visiting.

Well, see yourself out, won't you?

Thanks.

Wasn't it sad about Miss Pinkerton?

And so soon after the vicar, and of course your grandmother.

She was lovely, my gran - a real country woman... knew about things.

What sort of things?

How to help people... her and Uncle Henry.

And who's that?

Never mind.

Would you pass the biscuits.

You have to be so careful with mushrooms, not to pick the poisonous sort, don't you?

When you get to Gran's age...

begging your pardon...

she said herself she wasn't sure about the door. Water's boiled.

The door?

She was stirring her stew in the kitchen when she thought she heard a knock at the front door,

but nobody was there.

Was she expecting someone?

That Yank woman.

Did she say why Miss Conway was coming?

The vicar...

the old vicar... he put them in touch,

that's all she told me before she took ill.

I ran and got Dr Humbleby, but he was too late.

Oh dear!. Early night for you.

I'm going to listen to the wireless.

Miss Waynflete's got some hat dyes somewhere.

I've got this straw hat needs jazzing up.

Oh. Do you want to look smart for a young man?

I haven't got a young man.

You don't get enough with a spoon.

You needn't have opened today.

I'd rather keep busy.

Terry, I don't suppose anyone's found a book and handed it in -

Nature's Poisons.

Nature's Poisons? Sounds a grim read.

Not if it helps you distinguish between deadly nightshade and bilberries.

It hasn't been issued in five years, but I can't find it anywhere.

Do you want to report it stolen?

No, it'll turn up, I dare say.

Thanks.

Did you find everything you were looking for?

Getting there.

How are the troops?

Fighting fit.

Any custard creams left?

You know what you can do with this!

Steady. Ladies present.

The library's not the place for political propaganda.

And who asked for the collected works of Karl Marx to be on the shelves for all to see?

That's history, not propaganda.

Come on, Geoff.

There's a principle at stake.

And where did you get your principles from? Moscow?

No reason you can't put up your socialist poster as well. That's democracy.

There's only space for one. And it's the socialist National Health Service,

Mrs Horton, that pays for your treatment.

And I pay my taxes, which means I'm your employer now, doctor,

so I'll thank you not to be impertinent to my wife.

May I suggest, it's just a thought, why not take turns with your posters?

Labour one day, Conservative the next?

The judgement of Solomon.

Not exactly but it would be a solution.

Why not?

Why not?

Could you pass my speech Lydia?

Excuse me. Time I started the revolution.

I think I'll leave you to your politics.

I must see your lovely church. - Thank you so much Miss Marple.

There'll never be a socialist in Hugh's seat.

All the same, change can be a force for good sometimes.

What?

Thinking aloud. Ignore me.

I garden. That's my hobby.

'One's closer to God's heart in a garden... 1?

Mine's an unholy tangle. Can you hand me one of those wax sticks?

These?

Yeah.

Where else in the county have your travels taken you?

Oh, Darlow - that's a pretty church, Belhurst along the river... all around.

Do you think you'll stay long?

My plans are open-ended.

I'm all thumbs today.

How's the gorgeous Luke Fitzwilliam?

Gorgeous?

Sure he is. I should know. I've been round the block a few times.

Hallo, Miss Marple.

What do you think of our church?

It's charming.

Oh, would you like this? The last of the vicarage honey.

I offered it to Mrs Horton, forgetting she's diabetic.

How lovely.

You must miss Reverend Minchin.

The whole village does.

He had the pastoral gift. A true comforter of troubled souls.

Now, are you sure about Reverend Minchin's mask?

Definitely tampered with so he'd breathe in the poison spray.

The killer must have removed it after he died and put it back in its place.

I knew he couldn't be that absent-minded. Any more than Florrie Gibbs - a 'real country woman'

as Amy said - would pick the wrong mushrooms.

Do you know of Amy's Uncle Henry?

Never heard of him.

'Uncle Henry1

It rings a bell...

anyway...

By the way, Bridget Conway says she thinks you're rather nice.

Rather nice?

Well... gorgeous.

Just as well. I've asked her to lunch at the Seven Stars tomorrow.

What?

I just wonder why she wanted to see both Florrie Gibbs and the Reverend Minchin

around the time of their deaths.

When did she arrive in Wychwood?

A few days before Florrie Gibbs died, as far as I know,

but if you think Bridget has any involvement with any of this...

Oh, I'm not sure what I think yet.

I'll ask her not to poison lunch.

So did you come back to England for someone special?

No. My posting had come to an end, and I had my mother's house to sort out.

There's no-one special.

Is that a cynical uh-huh?

It's a wait-and-see uh-huh.

Tell me about home, your family.

It's a long story.

We've time. Do you have brothers? Sisters?

For all I know. I was adopted.

Where does the river Wychbourne run?

Hexley, and then all points east until it reaches the sea. Why?

Just checking my sense of direction hasn't deserted me.

Uh-huh.

Holy moly!

Was it me?

Don't flatter yourself, my ankle.

What can I do?

I'll manage, I'll just have to go back.

No, I'll take you. Lean on me.

I'm a big girl now, Luke -1 said I'll manage.

Bridget.

I just need a king-size aspirin and a pack of ice.

They won't have ice at the Seven Stars.

Ask them for a hot water bottle.

Secateurs, twine, little pots, big pots, in-between pots, and assorted dibbers.

Are you sure, Jessie?

Never more so. I'm having the garden all crazy-paved.

Your lovely garden?

It was Edward's garden. I've never cared for flowers.

You love flowers.

You musn't contradict me. I'm a widow.

You're so lucky, Lydia. I've always thought so.

Oh, gardening gloves. Try them on Hugh, see if they'll fit.

Rose. Where's that tweed jacket of your father's?

No, really, no, we must go.

Thank you for these.

Yes, and if there's anything we can do...

Come on, mother. Let's go in.

That's not normal. What's going on?

She's shell-shocked. Wouldn't you be?

You're not planning on dropping dead, I hope.

Only if the socialists get in.

Happy?

How could I not be... Mr Foreign Secretary?

No, nothing is certain. Not until that call from the Prime Minister.

Miss Conway.

Major. Mrs Horton.

Still here?

Guess I'm becoming a fixture.

You are quite the exotic. We haven't had any Americans here since the war.

What about pre-war?

Rarer than hens' teeth. Though weren't there some in Hexley, when you were a girl?

Only for a summer.

No, staying in Hexley Hall?

We're going to be late. I'm sorry, Miss Conway.

More cake, Jane?

It is delicious.

My mother's recipe.

Is that your brother?

My child in a way. He drowned. He was always playing the giddy goat down by the river.

I couldn't be with him every minute of every day.

We think he must have been balancing on the rocks and slipped.

There you are then.

How's his ear?

Oh, it's healed up nicely, hasn't it, you spoiled thing?

Major Horton is much better suited with Lydia, as it turned out.

Oh, I'm sure Lydia told you the whole sorry saga, and why not? There were no

hard feelings from any of us. And well, I could never have been a politician's wife.

One needs ambition.

Mr Abbot was wrong yesterday about the judgement of Solomon, wasn't he?

That story's not about compromise, but sacrifice.

Scuse.

I do wish you'd knock, you silly girl.

If you please, madam, please don't call me silly. I'm not.

No.

Oh, poor you. Why not have a lie down?

And Amy dear, I've found those hat dyes you wanted - ask me later.

Thank you, Miss Waynflete.

I do try to see the best in her, but I only took her on as a favour to her grandmother.

Florrie Gibbs was quite a character.

How was lunch?

Lunch good. After lunch... awful. Americans... God knows how we ever won the war.

- Where are you going? - I'm off to tune my motorbike.

You know where you are with a carburettor.

Frankly...

not to speak ill of the dead...

Humbleby was past it.

Perhaps now I can make a real difference to the health of our community.

Do you think...

- Do you think Labour has... -Wider.

Do you think Labour has a chance of defeating Major Horton in the election?

Short of him dropping dead, no.

But we'll give him a run for his money.

Excuse me.

Wychwood Surgery, Dr Thomas speaking.

Hello, Henry...

... no, don't come here. I'll come to you.

Well, I have to tell you, you're as fit as a flea.

I was almost sure I had a palpitation.

Perhaps you were confused.

Sometimes, Miss Marple, as one gets older...

As one gets older, doctor, sometimes one gets wiser.

���-��!

I'm keeping my spirits up.

So I see.

What were you asking, Jane?

About Florrie Gibbs. Honoria Waynflete said she was quite a character...

Oh, thank you.

She knew everyone's secrets. We called her the witch when we were children.

That crooked little cottage and all those lotions and potions. She was very good with warts.

What an original taste.

It's quite experimental. Is St Mary Mead like Wychwood?

Most villages are the same, don't you think?

Lots going on, and a doctor's wife must hear all manner of things.

Like Sir Lionel's unusual condition he picked up in India?

Honoria and the abortion? Mrs Blears and the gin bottle.

Honoria's what?

Not for herself.

When she was postmistress, Edward used to say they'd have to put 'returned unopened1

on her grave but he could be quite crude. No, she enquired for a friend,

years ago. Edward gave her very short shrift.

Who was the friend?

She wouldn't say. I have my suspicions but that would be telling.

Drink up, let's try something else.

Amy?

I have to commit a terrible sin.

Go through.

Amy?

lean usually find out anything I want in a library.

Can you? Good.

Except today. There's something nagging away at me and I'm almost sure

it's horticultural. I thought it was the name of a rose, but it's not.

'Uncle Henry1.

I'm not a gardener.

Don't you have hobbies?

I have interests.

Politics?

Serving the nation is a noble aspiration, Miss Marple, and in the unlikely

event the opportunity presents itself...

Excuse me.

Good night, Miss Waynflete.

Good night, Amy.

Amy?

I thought she'd overslept...

... but I knocked and called, and well, she'd locked the door.

Thank goodness Luke had a ladder.

Amy's not very well. Actually she's dead.

The hat dye.

She's poisoned herself.

I don't think she meant to.

Lo! Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb.

Not a close family, the Gibbs. Here from duty.

Amy's Uncle Henry didn't come.

Who?

Didn't Amy have an Uncle Henry?

Not to my knowledge.

Vote Horton and give your local candidate a resounding victory.

Vote Horton.

Make sure your vote counts.

Vote Conservative and keep socialism at bay!

Dinosaurs.

If only she'd put the light on, she wouldn't have mixed up the bottles.

But I wonder why she locked the door.

We should wait for the inquest before we jump to conclusions, don't you think?

Amy wanted to dye her straw hat.

I had some old bottles of hat dye, and she chose one.

The next time I saw it was in her room when...

When her body was discovered?

Yes.

Thank you, Miss Waynflete.

Constable Terence Reed?

I climbed in through the window, ascertained that the deceased was...

dead...

and unlocked the door to admit Miss Waynflete and Miss Marple.

That's when I noticed, well we noticed a bottle of cough mixture on a washstand,

almost identical in shape and size to the bottle of hat dye.

So she took the wrong bottle from the washstand in the dark, and drank from it

with fatal consequences?

Exactly.

Death was due to poisoning by the Oxalic acid in the Scarlet Flame hat dye?

Yes.

Thank you, Dr Thomas. You may step down.

The day before I not only prescribed her cough mixture, I also gave her the results

of a medical test.

She was pregnant.

What was her reaction to this news?

She was shocked and upset.

Yes?

She was praying, and said she had to commit a terrible sin.

Might she have been referring to suicide?

It seems so now.

Of course it wasn't suicide. Say something.

Miss Waynflete? Was Miss Gibbs in the habit of locking her door at night?

No, she wasn't.

But this time she wanted to shut out the world. Not uncommon with suicides.

Please sir?

Speaking as an ex-police officer I feel duty bound to point out to you

that Miss Gibbs could have been murdered.

Do you have evidence to this effect?

No. But it is possible that someone could have entered through the window,

changed the positions of the bottles on the washstand as she slept,

so that when she awoke with her coughing she would have taken

the wrong bottle back to bed.

And the locked door?

Perhaps she was afraid of someone.

In view of the doubts raised by Mr Fitzwilliam and wishing to leave

no stone unturned I adjourn this inquest pending further enquiries by the police.

Miss Pinkerton never said anything to me.

Perhaps she thought you wouldn't believe it.

I'm not sure I do.

Florrie Gibbs, the Reverend Minchin, Miss Pinkerton herself, Doctor Humbleby, and now Amy?

All...

... all murdered?

Terence!

She'll be wanting police protection now.

Why did she pretend to sprain her ankle?

Maybe she didn't want to kiss you.

What makes you think I tried?

I'm not batty, remember, Luke.

No... Jane.

I dare say she does find you gorgeous, but can't afford to be distracted

from her real reason for coming here.

Which is?

All I'm sure of is that a genuine brass-rubber would refer to 'heelball' and not 'wax'.

I thought you'd be asking about Amy.

It's a complicated investigation, Miss Waynflete, so if you could try and recall the day

of Miss Pinkerton's death?

I was baking. A treat for Lavinia - she loved my ginger cake.

Any visitors, anyone who can confirm you were at home?

Only Amy, sadly...

but even she went out for an hour or so. I don't know where,

but she put on lipstick.

I was in the big big city that day.

You mean London?

Ding dong Big Ben and jolly red buses.

Why?

Don't be nosey, Terry, it's private.

Mrs Humbleby, it is my job to find out things.

And don't be a bossy boots. Is that all?

No.

Hard cheese.

Well... unless you have any more thoughts about your husband's death?

Oh, masses. But I couldn't possibly share them with you, naughty boy.

No, I did not throw Lavinia down the escalator. The suggestion is outrageous.

I wasn't suggesting anything.

I wasn't even in London that day. I was playing golf and I remember because I had

a new niblick and I holed my second off the ninth for an albatross.

Bad luck.

Well done.

Thank you.

She showed me a photograph of the grounds taken twenty-two years ago,

when Lord Whitfield had Hexley Hall as a family home.

What was in the photograph?

The river, down by the south boundary, where it grows all reedy.

It said 'River Wychbourne' on the back.

She siad she'd found it when her parents passed away.

I recognised where it was straight away.

Especially with the girl in the background.

I told Miss Conway who she was but I didn't tell her what we used to get up to.

Who was she?

Fruity Fleming.

'Fruity1?

Yeah, ripe for the plucking was our Lydia Fleming. Went on to marry that Major Horton.

Thank you.

I only knew Amy as what she was.

Honoria indulged her shortcomings and one was polite, but Terence,

I rub shoulders with the Lord Lieutenant of the County.

Must be exciting.

Damned hard work actually. And when he wins the election, if he gets his cabinet position,

it'll be even harder.

I suppose the Major will have to cut down on his golf?

No, no, no, I'm the keen golfer. Hugh hasn't played at all this year.

Have you had recent dealings with Empson Confidential Enquiry Agents?

How do you know that?

What enquiries were they making for you?

Confidential ones. Hence their name.

Sorry to interrupt. Your tea's ready, Constable.

Amy?

Was it him she went to meet?

Sorry. I'll be going now.

On the day Miss Pinkerton died, I understand Amy Gibbs went to meet a man.

I am interviewing several witnesses, Mr Abbot.

Witnesses?

You can't even sneeze in Wychwood without someone offering a hanky.

Are you saying a witness saw me... with Amy?

We used to meet in the woods, by the waterfall.

It was my baby she was carrying and now she's dead.

And so's my reputation if it gets out.

She was willing enough and I do have needs, Terry.

I don't have much going for me, not like Horton.

What's the Major got to do with it?

You all think he's such an upstanding example of... I know things.

Such as?

His disgraceful lack of responsibility.

Have you ever wondered why Leonard Waynflete drowned?

He slipped on the rocks.

Yes, and the night before, Horton was pouring whisky down him.

He drank enough to sink a battleship

and he'd still have been woozy next day.

Maybe that's why he lost his balance.

You said you know 'things'.

What else do you know about the Major?

That'll do for now.

You nearly killed me.

You nearly followed me.

Why did you come to Wychwood? What are you looking for?

Not you yet.

Before I forget, Terry, that missing book's turned up,

though I can't think how. Nature's Poisons.

Oh, never mind the library book just sit down, please.

Dr Thomas, do you know a 'Henry1?

No.

Why were you out at Hexley Hall earlier today?

Hexley Hall?

You were observed.

Henry Temple. He's a psychiatrist there.

I've been to see him a couple of times to discuss... possibilities for your mother.

She's heading for a nervous breakdown.

How do you know?

Why else is she behaving the way she is?

I feel I just took an exam.

You passed with flying colours.

Do you think there's anything in what Mr Abbot said about the Major

and Leonard Waynflete?

Plenty, yes. I must go to the library.

Oh well, shall I wait here in case Luke telephones again with a progress report?

I expect he'll be straight back once he's been to Darlow

and the Empson Confidential Enquiry Agents.

Nature's Poisons.

Do you happen to know how this found its way back?

It's a mystery.

Or perhaps not.

You found it. I'm afraid that was me.

Why on earth would you steal a book?

I didn't take it. I just returned it when I found it in the vestry cupboard.

The vicar must have borrowed it.

For five years?

That's why I sneaked it back - the fine would be huge. He was very absent-minded.

Are you sure it was the Reverend Minchin? Couldn't someone else have left it

in the cupboard?

I'm the only person in the vestry normally although Amy was there.

But why would she have it?

She was poisoned but that was hat dye, not ancient herbs and roots and berries.

Her grandmother knew all about those, but Amy was a modern girl.

By the way, did the vicar ever mention why Bridget Conway

came to visit him the day before he died?

Lydia Horton might remember, or Honoria, or Mrs Humbleby.

They were doing the church flowers when Miss Conway first approached him.

Hallo, Miss Conway.

You beat me to the draw, Lydia. I was just coming to see you. I have questions.

Snap.

Come to my room.

I stand before you, returned again to Parliament with a substantial majority...

with a vastly increased majority, my dear wife by my side...

James!

A sworn statement from the Coroner at the inquest into the death of Leonard Waynflete.

James!

Stand down as candidate.

On health grounds, say.

And endorse me as your replacement.

If I don't?

Either way you'll kiss goodbye to being an MP, let alone Foreign Secretary

but if you do as I suggest you could at least preserve your good name.

This will destroy Lydia.

Is that the Seven Stars?

I believe my wife is there.

Could you ask her to come to the phone please?

It's Major Horton.

Honoria?

Lydia.

Hello, dear.

It's the day I lost Leonard. I always come here.

What is it?

Everything.

How did you get hold of this report?

Mr Empson of Empson Confidential Enquiry Agents was out of the office,

but his secretary, Gloria was most susceptible.

All in a good cause.

See? It was blackmail.

Yes but what can Mr Abbot want from the Major?

'Ambition can creep as well as soar1.

Shakespeare?

Edmund Burke.

Is it really? I've often wondered. Thank you.

Tell Constable Reed what the Hexley Hall gardener said about the Learys.

There was a young American couple, the Learys who stayed at Hexley Hall

as summer guests of Lord Whitfield.

Now the gardener says Bridget was very interested in them.

She was adopted.

By the Learys?

Perhaps.

I don't see what Miss Conway's enquiries have to do with ours.

Nor do I, quite yet.

'Henry'.

Hold on, hold on. If we're looking for a Henry... the Reverend Wake's called Henry...

Yes, he is, isn't he?

Exactly.

But I knew it was horticultural...

and Amy's marked the page.

'Old Uncle Henry' is another name for the herb Mugwort...

when combined with Tanacetum vulgare -or Pennyroyal -

it is an efficacious abortifacient... '?

Induces abortion.

Amy always said her grandmother and Uncle Henry helped people.

'Ancient herbs'... not such a modern girl, after all.

Is it exciting, growing up in America?

Did you have a white picket fence and a swinging seat on the verandah?

On the seventeenth floor of an apartment block?

But it was a nice apartment?

Swell. Uptown.

Is that good?

That's very good, Miss Waynflete.

Luke Fitzwilliam. You could do worse.

And so could he...

a wholesome and healthy girl like you.

Wait.

You owe me a kiss.

You think I kiss guys who spy on me?

You think I kiss girls who lie to me?

You just asked to.

I'm making an exception in your case.

Tell me the truth.

It hurts.

Truth can.

No my arm, Dumbo.

Tomorrow. I'll know everything then... but I warn you, it's crazy.

Strong hands.

You too.

You're madder than I am.

We're not saying you're mad.

If you think you're locking me away in Hexley Hall...

It would just be a rest for you, Jessie.

Ripe Cherry or Congo Crimson?

Come to Evensong. Let's all stay together.

What are you afraid of? Five horrid deaths?

Number six won't be me, I can tell you that. I'm far too strong.

Mother...

Lydia says she told you what happened.

She told me what... but not why.

How dare he? What are you going to do about it?

What can I do?

I'm so sorry Hugh.

Where is Lydia?

She's at home.

You'll have to go.

Lydia asked me to tell you she's decided to do the right thing.

What did she mean?

I've no idea.

She's in a hell of a state.

He lives to silence all my fears, He lives to wipe away my tears. He lives to calm my...

Did Bridget give you any idea at all what she'd know tomorrow?

No.

Ours is a community of good souls, full of goodwill and abounding in strength.

Where is she?

As the Psalm has it: The Lord is my strength and song, and is become my salvation.

I'll remind you to remind me

We said we wouldn't look back.

And if you should happen to find me with an outlook dreary and black.

I'll remind you to remind me we said we wouldn't look back.

Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, � Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us

from all perils and dangers of this night for the love of thy only Son,

our Saviour, Jesus Christ.

Amen.

At even, ere the sun was set, the sick, 0 Lord, around thee lay...

0, in what diverse pains they met! 0, with what joy they went away!

Major!

We'd have pulled through.

She could still have held her head high.

Mrs Horton injected herself with three hundred units of insulin.

Sixty was her proper dose.

Dr Thomas says that with what she'd had to drink, she'd have slipped into a coma

and drowned.

Did she leave a note?

Not that we found.

No.

Wychwood 719. Yes, he is.

Yes?

In her toe?

Go on.

Bridget?

Lydia was going to tell me today.

Tell you what?

That I'm her daughter.

What'll I do without her?

You have loyal friends, Hugh.

I know. But she was my rock.

Oh. Hugh...

I'm going to need most of this stuff.

Tragic circumstances in which to start my parliamentary career,

but I quite understand why Hugh feels unable to carry on.

Lucky I can step into the breach.

You've got a nerve. If it hadn't been for you Lydia wouldn't have killed herself.

I have a campaign to run.

I never knew the whys or wherefore of my adoption. This photo was all I had to go on.

I came here to find the truth.

I asked Reverend Minchin if he knew of any unwanted baby born twenty-two years ago

with some connection to the River Wychbourne.

He pointed me to Florrie Gibbs,

he said she'd remember anything like that from back then...

but she died.

Then Major Horton mentioned some Americans at Hexley Hall before the war...

... and you found the gardener there...

... who said the girl in the photo was Lydia.

Yesterday she came to the Seven Stars and asked to see my birthmark.

She recognised it at the inquest.

I know she was about to tell me the truth, but then she took a call from the Major

which seemed to shock her into scooting off.

She just said she wanted to see me today.

And now she's killed herself from fear of scandal.

There's more than mere scandal involved in her death.

Wear this, Hugh, to lift the tragic gloom. Edward never liked it.

I'm not sure that's really...

I was asking Hugh.

Mother! Sorry, Major Horton, I don't know what's come over her.

I'm trying to jolly him up. Look, it suits you.

Would you stop it, please Jessie. Stop it!

Everyone! Please go. Leave me alone. Get out, all of you.

Goodness.

Come one, come all.

Why do you think your wife committed suicide, Major?

Had she recently discovered something that might have upset her?

Oh, no.

Jessie.

But suppose she'd found out about us?

She didn't. And anyway, nothing happened.

Jessie and I took in a matinee of Salad Days. Such a jolly show. Lovely tunes.

Which you both hum quite prettily.

Jessie was short of cheeriness.

Lydia wouldn't have understood so I didn't mention it.

Cheeriness? I was short of a lot more than that.

I see that now. I hope you don't think I was leading you on.

Just a pleasant outing, then.

It's meant to be happy ever after even if you marry a clot, and if it's not...

I do need a rest somewhere, don't I?

Yes.

Not at Hexley Hall. Stay at home, with us.

Could Mrs Horton have been upset for another reason?

Mr Abbot was blackmailing him.

Yes.

I bribed the coroner to hide the truth.

At the inquest into the death of Leonard Waynflete.

Why?

Hugh?

The night before Leonard drowned, he'd got extremely drunk... with me.

I was worried that might have contributed to his fall the next day.

Drunk? Leonard never touched alcohol.

Leonard came to see me. I'd already had quite a few.

To tell you the truth, Honoria, I was wondering if I'd rushed into things with Lydia,

so soon after you turning me down.

Leonard wanted to know why you were down in the dumps.

I offered him a Scotch,

which he rather took to after the second glass.

By the time he left, he was reeling.

When that and the bribery came to light,

Lydia thought it was the end of her world.

She asked me to tell Honoria she'd decided to do the right thing.

If we'd only realised what she meant.

Your wife didn't take her own life, Major.

As well as the usual mark left by her insulin injection, there was another -

on her toe - suggesting that an overdose was administered forcibly

while she was held down under the bath water.

Dear God.

Why would anyone kill Lydia?

Perhaps she'd kept a secret from years ago.

Dr Humbleby knew a secret, didn't he?

Honoria asking about abortion on behalf of a friend?

Jessie.

Does it matter now?

It will matter to Hugh.

Then it was Lydia!

Lydia wanted an abortion? When was this?

Just before your engagement party.

Don't judge her, Hugh, please.

Did she say who the man was?

No.

And this was a few weeks after your brother's death?

Yes.

Major. When Leonard came to see you, did you by any chance talk to him about sex?

He was an innocent, I tried to explain to him about attraction,

what you might have meant to me in that regard.

I had to convey some pretty basic stuff.

He wanted to know what he was missing.

I think he found out that night.

Do you mean he forced himself on Lydia?

No! No, she'd have cried and begged him to stop.

He'd know he was doing wrong. No. He understood shame.

The shame of it.

The next day, when he fell from the rocks,

Luke, perhaps it wasn't the effects of the drink.

Do you think that Leonard might have... ?

We don't believe it was an accident, no.

And what happened about the abortion?

When I told Lydia that Dr Humbleby wouldn't help,

she never mentioned it again. I assumed she'd... made some other arrangement.

I wonder if she went to Florrie Gibbs, who used to 'help people1 with her ancient herbs?

That's why Amy took Nature's Poisons from the library when she suspected she was pregnant.

The terrible sin she spoke of wasn't suicide - it was abortion.

We're certain now that Amy was murdered.

Just as we're sure now that Florrie Gibbs was.

And the Reverend Minchin.

And your husband, Mrs Humbleby.

And, of course, Lavinia Pinkerton, who knew that murder is easy

as long as no-one thinks it's murder.

All these murders... why?

To keep me from finding out who I really am.

May I just ask, Honoria, if you've baked any more cakes?

More cake, Jane?

My mother's recipe.

I know shop bought cake when I taste it.

With your permission, Constable?

And little lies make me wonder if big ones will follow.

Amy wanted to dye her straw hat.

I had some old bottles of hat dye, and she chose one.

Amy would never choose Scarlet Flame as a colour - it would clash with her red hair.

Would it?

You only took on Amy as a favour to her grandmother.

Did you agree because Florrie knew your secret?

What... what secret?

A secret almost too unbearable to speak of.

Then don't, please. Please.

I'm afraid it must be told, somehow.

For your own sake, too, Honoria.

I can't.

Well let me help you.

It wasn't Lydia your brother forced himself on, that night was it?

It wasn't Lydia who cried and begged him to stop?

He was drunk. He was too strong. It hurt.

If I'd reported it they would have put him away, but if I didn't I was afraid

he would defile me again...

... so next afternoon I let him go and play, and followed him...

... and pushed him off.

It was an act of mercy.

But then you found you were pregnant

and you went to Dr Humbleby with that story about a friend in trouble.

He turned you away so you asked Florrie Gibbs for help.

One moment, Miss Marple.

Do you mean that Honoria killed Florrie, Amy, all the others?

Yes.

Why?

Because I was sniffing around.

I overheard you with the vicar.

A stranger all the way from America stirring up memories.

I knew my sin must never see the light of day.

I picked some mushrooms from the woods...

the poisonous kind...

and went to Florrie's cottage.

Her kitchen window was open and she was making a stew.

You knocked on the door, when she went to answer it, you went round the back,

leaned through the window and reached through to put the mushrooms in the stew.

Yes, and stirred them in.

And the vicar knew what Leonard had done to me that night.

He'd found me praying the next morning and I confided in him.

He promised never to breathe a word, but how could I be sure after all that time?

I'd made holes in his breathing mask when I was there for tea.

I came back and hung it up before he was found.

But why did you have to kill Edward?

He might have remembered you asking about an abortion.

How did you manage to poison him?

Wonky Pooh had a poorly ear... this is rather unpleasant, Jessie...

... so I collected the pus from the weeping sore in a saucer, made sure Edward cut his finger...

... and sent him on his way with a plaster.

And Lavinia was such a chatterbox.

She had to have an accident of her own.

It's all very suspicious, Mr Wonky.

First Florrie then the vicar,

and Bumblebee not looking very well.

The sooner we tell Scotland Yard, the better.

I thought I could stop then, but Amy got herself into trouble with Mr Abbot...

Cheer up, Amy. It might never happen.

She said she knew that years ago I'd gone to her grandmother, and unless I helped

with the same foul mixture that would destroy her unborn child as it had destroyed mine...

And comforted her as she sinned, she'd tell the whole of Wychwood.

She didn't have the hat dye in her room that night, did she, only the medicine?

But you couldn't have helped Amy in any case, could you?

Because all those years ago your own maternal instinct was too strong,

and you changed your mind.

I poured the horrid stuff down the drain...

And shut yourself away like a hermit until your time came.

I gave birth... all alone.

What happened to the baby?

Please.

I placed you in God's tender hands.

But God gave you back to me.

When did you know?

Sometimes I looked at you and wondered.

It scarcely seemed possible.

And then Lydia said she recognised your birthmark

and that you were a mystery baby she'd found caught in the reeds by Hexley Hall.

And I knew for certain.

Lydia found me? Why didn't she take me to the police?

She couldn't risk it being known she'd been there,

waiting for her young gardener and a last starry night of illicit passion

before she married Hugh.

She gave you to the Learys, childless and barren as they were -

who took you back to America.

And when the Major told you Lydia had decided to do the right thing and you realised

that she was going to tell Bridget all she knew...

Once you found you were born here, you'd never have stopped asking questions

until you found the truth.

You're such a bright girl.

So you slipped away during the service and went to kill Lydia.

Please.

Please.

You witch.

No.

I gave you life. And it was swell for you uptown.

Sure.

Please.

Please.

Come along, Miss Waynflete.

Goodbye my dear.

So long, Luke.

I'll see you.

When?

Look in your pocket.

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