All language subtitles for S04E14. Silent Dust.English

- Tired?
- (Grunts)

Exhausted.

- No stamina.
- No comment.

I know just how you feel.

How?

How would you know?

Serve at river temperature.

Didn't like to chance the weather
so I thought I'd be on the safe side.

Got hold of a little rosé,
pretty adaptable little wine.

Let's hope it may give you the strength
to make the return journey.

Well, I hope it gives me the strength
to ... pull the cork. Ah!

Do you know, in this estuary

there used to be
all sorts of lovely martlets.

"The temple-haunting martlet."

Macbeth, Act I, Scene 6.

- Banquo.
- Yes.

Well, now there are no martlets.

Agreed, there are no martlets.
Why should you care?

Well, think of the poor bird watchers

with their gum boots
and disappointed faces.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Ah, I like a wine that bites back.

Steed, what about the martlets?

I don't know.

That's why I'm here, eavesdropping
on a lot of harmless birds.

Eavesdropping?

- It's indecent.
- It's wasting time.

Not entirely.

- How do you mean?
- Just behind you.

Don't look!

- A martlet?
- A man.

He's in a tree
with a pair of binoculars focused on us.

I have to get back to London.

Find out what he wants.

Oh! Oh, you shouldn't have done that!

- You gave me quite a turn.
- You were watching me!

Watching you? You're mistaken.
I was watching for the birds.

- Oh?
- Yes.

Any particular one?

- Yes.
- Tell me.

The black-capped petrel.

- No!
- Yes.

- What is your name?
- Quince.

Mr Quince,

nobody's seen a black-capped petrel
in England for 100 years.

You know it and I know it
so don't let's play games.

1850 it was, Norfolk.

Let's assume we both know
something about birds, shall we?

Yes.

I can ask you
something you don't know.

- Oh?
- Where have all the martlets gone?

(Quince laughs)

79% less wrens,

58% less thrushes,

eagles, kites, osprey
virtually extinct.

Even affects the butterflies.

- Can I help you?
- No, I'm fine.

(Dog barking)

I've warned you before, Quince.
This is private land. Now, get out.

It's my fault. I didn't know.

The master's got a partridge shoot.
Doesn't want you putting them to flight.

- We didn't do any damage.
- Didn't see any partridge, either.

- Are you calling me a liar?
- What is it, Mellors?

Trespassers, sir.
I was just telling them ...

All right, Mellors, I'll deal with it.
There's a break in the fence.

- Fix it, will you?
- Yes, sir.

I must apologise for Mellors.
He means well.

He lacks charm, that's all.

I know you, I've seen you around,
but I don't recognise you, Miss.

I ought to keep tabs on trespassers.

I'm Mrs Peel from the British Trust
for Ornithology. This is Mr Quince.

- Looking for anything in particular?
- Martlets.

Oh, what's special about them?

- There aren't any?
- Really?

You can't hunt it or shoot it,
I'm not interested.

- I see.
- We'll argue that out one day.

- Do you ride?
- A little.

I've got a middleweight bay hunter.

Suit you to a T.

Anytime you want to shake up your liver.
Good day to you.

- Morning, Juggins.
- Aye.

- Thirsty work?
- Home brew.

- Er, not for me, thanks.
- 30 miles to the gallon.

Tomorrow night,
think you can make it?

- What do you think?
- Shouldn't take much longer.

Couple of sessions I should think.

I slaughtered a bullock yesterday.
I'll drop the ribs in.

You bloodthirsty villain!

Lucky for you I am, isn't it?

It's this country air.

At my daughter's wedding
I wore a carnation.

Even that gave me hay fever.

- May I put the division up?
- Division? Surely not.

Oh, yes, of course.

These things always give me a kick.

Yes, well, little things, you know.
You were saying?

I was about to say ...

- (Beeping)
- Excuse me.

Yes?

Oh, that's terrible!
It's terrible, terrible.

Tell them to move Harding
across to right-back.

I don't mind whether he likes it or not.
Tell him it's an order.

I'm so sorry.

- Still running the ministry hockey team?
- Oh, yes. They can't find anyone else.

Ridiculous!

So I was right.

No martlets,
not so much as a feather.

That's how it all began last time.

I don't follow.

Now you understand
why I asked you come with me.

Where are we going?

Manderley.

- Very nice day for it.
- What?

- The hockey match.
- I hope Harding does well at right-back.

I've sure you've made
an excellent choice, Minister.

The usual, please.

Nines, please.

Thanks.

Stand still, there's a good fellow.

Thank you.

Manderley.

What happened?

- Silent dust.
- What's that?

It should have been
an organochlorine fertiliser.

Fertiliser?

Unfortunately it went wrong.

Instead of renewing, replenishing,
it killed.

Best pesticide I ever saw.

(Creaking)

Ah.

Oh, it is lifeless, just like dust.

Kill the earth worm
and ultimately you kill everything.

Soil, birds, animals ...

- man.
- Fantastic.

- Been like this for nearly ten years now.
- Will it recover?

- No one can tell.
- Do we know when it's going to happen?

Even has its own early-warning system.

All the birds disappear.

Try that one.

- Um ...
- Peach melba.

That's it!

Absolutely delicious,
not in the least like ... fertiliser.

Exactly.

- The whole thing's gone too far.
- It has?

Yes, the Egyptians started it all.

Used to douse the Nile with cedar oil.

Now it's a £6 million industry.

Even started putting smells back,

make an old car smell like a new one.

"Make doggy's rubber bone
smell meaty."

- Really?
- Should appeal to jaded canine palates.

"Man's faithful friend deserves
a fresh slobber."

Oh, I've got another one.

Jasmine-scented waterproof baby pants.

- Are you pulling my leg?
- "Give baby a new start in life."

if it smells like peaches, people
won't believe it does any fertilising.

We had a winner last year.
Smelt like old socks.

- Dr Manfred?
- Yes?

- I know you're a busy man.
- Get to the point.

- That's what I tell all my salesmen.
- Silent dust.

- What? What did you say?
- Silent dust.

Shh. I won't talk about it.

That hasn't been mentioned here
in years.

You've read the report.

If somebody gets a large quantity of that,
we must have your help.

Mr Steed, there isn't
an atom or molecule

of that unmentionable product
in the world today.

Who was working on the project?
The man in charge?

- Chemist named Prendergast.
- Can I talk to him?

- He's not still here.
- What happened?

He was sacked.
We couldn't get him out fast enough.

Would personnel have a file on him?

Possibly. I don't want
to talk about it anymore.

Prendergast had a daughter,
a girl called Clare.

Keep still.

Fine subject you are!

I'll bet Picasso doesn't have
all this trouble.

(Doorbell rings)

Oh, dash!

- Miss Prendergast?
- Yes.

My name is Steed, John Steed.
I spoke to you earlier.

- Oh, yes. Come in, Mr Steed.
- Thank you.

- Well, do sit down, won't you?
- Thank you.

You said you'd been to the company,
spoken to Dr Manfred.

- That's correct.
- Then, why come here?

Surely you must have heard it all by now.

There are two sides to every story,
I always say.

- Not to this one.
- Oh, really?

My father was sacked, humiliated.
treated like a lab boy.

I should like to see your father.
I'm sure I can help him.

It's too late for that, Mr Steed.

A very ... still life.

I had no idea.

You remember the cold snap
at the end of March?

That's what killed him.
That's what finally killed him.

- I'm very sorry.
- So was I,

and the two other people
that followed the coffin.

They say to err is human,
to forgive divine.

Not a lot of divinity in the world,
is there, Mr Steed?

- If there's anything I can ...
- There is.

I just want to be left in peace.

Dead six months
and still they won't leave him alone.

He wanted to help Father.

Help? That's a laugh.

If you hadn't been around,
we'd have starved.

What's his name?

Steed.

Steed.

Tell me what you think of the scent.

Mm, it's beautiful.

"The fairest things have fleetest end"

"Their scent survives their close"

"The rose's scent is bitterness ..."

"To him that loved the rose."

- Francis Thompson.
- Quite right.

"Ne'er a rose without a thorn."

- Herrick.
- 15 all.

Your service.

I grow 'em.

Or rather, I create them.

By crossing, inter-pollinating.

This little beauty took me ten years.

Whimsical Folly
out of Bates' Joy and Whimsy Dad.

Whimsi...? Oh, of course I know it.
I've seen it at several shows.

Yes.

You would.

Growing in half the gardens
from here to Timbuktu.

My brain child

and not a penny piece
do I get for it.

- But I thought ...
- Royalties for rose growers?

Yes, they've changed that now.

It's too late, though.
Too late for me.

I'd have been a rich man
if they'd done it 10, 15 years ago.

Too darned late!

Friend of yours?

Oh, yes. Excuse me.

I found out something.

- About the martlets?
- Could be.

- I'd like to show you.
- Where is it?

You know where I saw you
that first morning?

- Yes, I remember.
- I'll see you there

nearby at the spinney
at 10 o'clock tonight.

How ... how will I find you?

(Bird call)

(Bird whistle)

- Cut off in mid warble?
- I haven't heard from him since.

- Do you know what he had to tell you?
- He'd have told me.

- Something frightened him off.
- Oh?

- Mellors.
- Who's he?

The local gamekeeper.

Mellors? Not the gamekeeper!

He works for Peter Omrod.
He's the local squire type.

Hunting, shooting, fishing
and sitting on every committee.

- Old county family, eh?
- Mm.

How is your connection
with industrial science?

Well oiled.

Check up on a chemist
called Prendergast.

Used to work for Fellows Fertilizers.

- I'll see what I can pick up here.
- I'm sure you will.

Pick up something.

He does nothing but sweat
and keep biting his stomach.

- Sounds nasty.
- Constantly trying to lie down.

- Raving drunk.
- I beg your pardon?

If it's a man, raving drunk.

If it's a horse, raving colic.

- You think so?
- All the classic symptoms.

I agree but my vet has some doubts.
Anyway, I've sent for him.

- Mr?
- Steed, John Steed.

Well, you did right, then.

Fire the vet.
Don't let the horse lie down.

- Keep him walking.
- I've done that.

- You've nothing to worry about.
- That's very reassuring.

Tell me, do you know
a lot about horses?

Do a bit of steeplechasing.

I would have thought
you were too tall in the saddle.

Oh, I don't know.
Comes in handy.

Pop the old feet down,
help the animal over the sticks.

Er, what'll you have to drink, then,
eh, Miss ...?

Beryl Snow.
Thank you, I'd love one.

- Well, Miss ...
- (Omrod) Beryl.

- Time we were off.
- Most awfully sorry. Meeting, you know.

- Some other time?
- Soon, I hope.

Charming little filly.

- Double brandy, please.
- They're all on the hunt committee.

Omrod's master of hounds.
Probably some last-minute arrangement.

So that's Omrod?
Carrying on the family tradition, eh?

Oh, no. Omrod's new to these parts.

Only been here ...
let's see ... 14 years.

Not like Miss Snow.
The Snows have been here centuries.

Setting the style.
Well, until recently, that is.

- What happened?
- Lost all their money.

Soil turned sour on them,
or something like that.

- Where the devil have you been?
- Had to slit a sow's throat.

You could hear the squeal
three mile away.

- You measured it, no doubt?
- Vicar told me.

Scrumpy, anyone?

Snowdrop, come on!

Put some meat on your bones
and some fire in your belly.

Thank you, I can manage without.

By, you should have heard that sow.
It were like music.

That's enough.
Let's get down to business.

- Have we got clearance from the farms?
- All that we need.

- Don't want to upset anyone, do we?
- Not round here, anyway.

- Beryl, what about the hounds?
- Ready and raring to go.

I trust they're in good voice.
That's important.

- Tank 'em up on scrumpy beforehand.
- And they'll all fall asleep.

No, thanks.
What sort of turnout will it be?

100%. Do you have
any last-minute invitations?

Yes, I might have.
One or two.

Stop playing.
The hunt can take care of itself.

(Typing)

(Man) If I remember correctly,

Prendergast didn't have
a particular assistant.

- Oh, he was a lone wolf?
- Exactly.

- Yes, that describes him very well.
- Did you know him?

Oh, he was a star
in his own way, you know.

Quite out of my orbit.

What's this photograph?

Oh, that's the annual
general conference.

Representatives from all branches,
subsidiary companies.

It's a wonderful evening:
seven-course dinner,

corsage for all the ladies,
cigarettes for all the men.

- What's wrong?
- This man, who is he?

Oh, that's Mr Omrod.
Charming man.

- Not that I've met him myself.
- What's he to do with the company?

Nothing, nothing.
He's our ...

Oh, what do you call it?

One of these farmers
who try experimental products.

Er ... um ...

Agricultural advisor.

(Omrod) It's agreed, then?

£40 million made available
in a Zurich bank.

Switzerland, eh?
Lovely country for roses.

- Yes, that's fine.
- Beryl?

40 million?
Adequate compensation, I'd say, Yes.

- Juggins?
- Well, I'll leave the wordifying to you.

I mean, that's not my department.

40 million you say?
You reckon that's enough, do you?

Oh, yes. Don't you?

Split four ways, you know.

It's still 10 million each.

Aye.

I've got my eye
on an Aberdeen Angus.

I've always wanted to cross one
with my Holstein Friesian.

You'll be able to cross
an Aberdeen Angus with a cottage loaf.

Aye, and have plenty left over
for scrumpy.

More than you'll ever be able to drink.

Fair enough, then.

- And if they don't pay up?
- Oh, they will.

After we've destroyed Dorset.

And we'll destroy county after county
until they do pay.

If need be,
we'll destroy the whole country.

- That's far enough, mister.
- Morning, squire.

Beautiful weather.
Having my morning constitutional.

Road's back that way.
Oh, and mister ...

I almost took you
for a poacher just then.

I have orders to shoot poachers.

That'll keep 'em down.

- You're sure he didn't leave a message?
- Yes, miss.

Went out right after lunch.
I saw him from that very window.

- Did he say anything about dinner?
- Ordered it before he went.

- Good evening, Mrs Peel.
- Mr Omrod.

You still haven't take me up
on my invitation.

It's still in my in-tray.

Beautiful three-year-old
just waiting to be exercised.

You ever done any hunting, Mrs Peel?

- A little.
- Fascinating.

Pit your wits against a master
of craftiness and deception.

Point and counterpoint.

Finally cornering him and killing.

It's a wonderful day's sport.
Well, what about it?

I'll let you know.

- Boyfriend let her down.
- Who's that?

That chap who runs that vintage job,
name of Steed.

(Owl hoots)

I prefer you clean-shaven.

- Are you all right?
- Ooh!

It's fleshy but not serious.

I ran into Mr Mellors
down the unfriendly end of a 12-bore.

- Don't I get a shot of that Red Eye?
- Mm-mm.

This is a dry town, partner.

Are you feeling well enough
to stand another shock?

Peter Omrod was an advisor
with Fellows Fertilizers.

He holds a pilot's licence
and he's an expert crop-sprayer.

Don't confuse me with the facts.

You're as sound in mind and limb
as ever, so I'll leave you to it.

- I'm meeting Clare Prendergast.
- You may have more success than I did.

Admire the brushstrokes,
keep your feet off the mantelpiece.

- I'd like an opinion on this.
- What is it?

- It could be silent dust.
- And why are you telling me all this?

- You might happen to pass the analyst.
- Inevitably.

Spare a thought for me
as I lay here, spent, alone.

- Not quite alone.
- Eh?

- You have company.
- Oh?

- Mm. Quince.
- Where?

In that cupboard.

I think I shall retire to the country,

lead a contemplative life.

A small cottage and a handyman.

- You're not a country girl, are you?
- No, I'm not.

- It's a charming village.
- Glad you like it.

I suppose it's changed a great deal.

Mm, I suppose so.

- You can take a rest now.
- Thank you.

- Are these for sale?
- Most of them.

What happened to the fountain?
It's not there anymore, is it?

Oh, a lorry ran into it.
Council decided to remove it.

- Wasn't safe.
- When was this?

- Oh, two years ago.
- Do you do much riding?

There's a saying
in the village, Mrs Peel.

"No point going up top farm
to get to midsummer meadow."

- What does it mean?
- It means come to the point.

If you want to get to the meadow
don't go six miles out of your way.

You had the whole of this country
to choose from

yet you chose this village.

Why?

My father not only lost his job,

he lost all his friends.

Only one stood by him.

One good friend.

He brought us down here.

- Oh, that one's not for sale.
- No?

He's the one good friend.

(Gun clicks)

I'm sure you won't mind.
I told your butler not to bother.

- We haven't met, have we?
- My name's Steed.

Sorry, oil.

Sorry, buckshot.

- Oh.
- What a nice gun.

Should be. Weatherby's.

I've got its brother,
only with a walnut stock.

Better use 'em while we can,
hadn't we?

- What do you mean?
- Birds are getting scarcer

minute by minute.

- I hadn't heard.
- Oh, you'd better ask your gamekeeper.

Mellors?

He mistook me for a partridge.

Seriously ruffled my wing feathers.

Oh, I must speak to him.

- I must tell him to be more ...
- Accurate?

Careful.

Ha!

Oh, well, at 70 bob 100 cartridges,

my poor old father,
he'd spin in his grave.

Can I be of any service, Mr Steed?

I'm negotiating for some land.

I'd very much like your advice.

Perhaps you'd give me some idea
about local prospects.

- Do you intend to farm?
- Yes.

- Arable?
- Little bit of everything.

Stock, sugar beet, grain.

Forget it.
Save your money and try elsewhere.

Just a bit of friendly advice:

the country round here
isn't any good for farming.

Lots of problems.

- Soil isn't very rich, you see.
- So that's it?

I've been talking to the local suppliers.

That's why you've been buying up
this enormous amount of phosphates.

(Door opens)

Steed's become a problem.

I warned him
but it won't do any good. Sherry?

What's his excuse
for snooping around?

He says he wants to buy land.

I'll give him some free, for nothing.

- You will?
- Aye, six feet of it.

Right, enough talking.
Let's have some action.

A little poleaxing party.

We're a few days away from success.
Tomorrow we destroy Dorset.

Then the prime minister
gets our ultimatum.

- We can't afford to take risks.
- And Steed is a very big risk.

Seems such a pity.
He's just the sort of risk I fancied.

I'm not so sure of the girl, either.

Nor me. Didn't you say
she'd been quizzing Clare?

- Is Mrs Peel going to the hunt?
- I invited her.

Aye, a lot can happen on a hunt.
Wise move to invite Mrs Peel.

Get Steed there too
and we can make a clean sweep of it.

Yes, you're right.
It's the best way.

I've got a brand-new cleaver
needs christening.

Wonderful blade.

- Honed to a whisker.
- No, Juggins.

- Why not?
- Must look like a hunting accident.

- A double one?
- Much more original.

- Devil's dyke.
- How do we know they'll accept?

- Just leave that to me.
- Tally-ho!

Tally-bloomin'-ho!

(Muttering)

Well! D'ye ken, Emma Peel?

And when did you get an invitation?

This forenoon.

The unspeakable
in pursuit of the uneatable.

Oh, I got the analyst's report.
You were right.

- Silent dust?
- Highly concentrated.

One sackful would destroy
an area of 40 miles.

(Sharp intake of breath)

Got the sandwiches?

- After you, Lady Emma.
- Thank you.

What did you think
of Clare Prendergast?

She's in need
of care and protection.

- Pretty dodgy guardian.
- Mm.

A wolf in hunting pink.

Juggins.

(Steed) He'll be in amongst the hounds
when it comes to the kill.

And his dressage!

Ooh.

Croft?

(Emma) Well, his roses bloom
but he got the blight.

And what about your friend Miss Snow?

She's got a good seat.

Omrod.

He cracks the whip.

- Good hunting.
- Good hunting.

- (Horn sounds)
- Mm ... ah.

Morning, master.

Glad you could make it.

- Hup!
- Thanks.

Marvellous. Ah ...

- Mr Steed?
- Yes?

I wonder if you could help me.
It's my horse.

Anything for you, my dear.
What's wrong?

Can't keep him from the trough.

Just seems to want
to keep on drinking all the time.

Oh, dear.
Once had an auntie like that.

Ha, ha, ha, ha!

- Whoops!
- Oh, frightfully athletic!

We don't want you left behind,
do we, Mrs Peel?

What's the matter, then?

What's the matter, eh?
Ha, ha, ha!

(Horse trotting)

You haven't got the colic, have you?

(Barking)

All right, then, Croft.
Spit it out.

(Gasping for air)

Come on, boy.

Come on, gee up.

- Everything OK?
- Smooth as clockwork.

- What about Snowdrop?
- Oh, she won't be a minute.

Well, there'll be no hitches
with the helicopter.

- Good.
- Aye, it's a grand day for it.

Not that I've got anything against Dorset.
My brother Jethro used to farm there.

Hurry up, Beryl.

Well, Juggins, celebration tonight.
A magnum of champagne for each of us.

Do you reckon this will bring
the government to their knees?

- Don't you?
- Wouldn't mind betting a fiver on it.

Acre on acre of dead ground?
Should do the trick.

(Omrod) It will be the showplace
of the nation,

- a desert in Dorset.
- Dorset?

Thank you for the warning.

Now, put your hands above your heads
and turn round.

- She's off across the fields.
- Let's get after her.

You wanted a day's hunting, didn't you?
The thrill of the chase and all that.

- Normal hunting calls.
- Aye, first one to her gets the ears.

(Horn sounds)

Whoa, whoa!

Aargh!

Tally-ho!

Ooh! No!

Are you sure you know
how to control one of these things?

Absolutely, my dear.
Nothing to worry about.

Just a question
of throwing ballast overboard.

What happens
when we run out of ballast?