All language subtitles for Father Brown s09e02 The Vipers Tongue.eng

And a bag of scraps for
the cat, please, Mr Fredericks.

Certainly, Miss Nellins.

If she takes much longer, that lamb
will've turned into mutton.

See you tomorrow.

Mrs McCarthy.

Haven't seen you around
Ruby's Cafe Americano yet?

You must come and try one
of my "hot dogs".

You won't catch me eating a dog,
hot or otherwise.

Even during the war,
we never had to sink that low.

Mrs McCarthy.
And what'll it be today?

Pork chops. Fresh,
if you wouldn't mind.

I'm afraid last week's were almost
on the turn.

Good day, Mr Penmark.

And you know what day it is?

Yes. About the rent.
I just need to go to the bank.

I'll have that for you by
closing time.

Make sure you do.

Mrs McCarthy.
See you at Mass tomorrow.

Thank you.

Help...help!

The Presbytery's on fire.

Could everybody stay back,
please?

For your own safety's sake,
please. Father Brown is in there!

Mrs McCarthy, Don't. Father!
Mrs McCarthy, please.

Father.

Father?! Father Brown.

Hello?

Surprise.

Happy birthday, Mrs McCarthy.

SHE COUGHS

So I put the cake in the oven,

nipped down to the Red Lion for
a swift half,

completely lost track of time.

Well, at least one
of us hasn't changed, Sid.

Yeah. When did you become a
fireman? Last time I saw you,

you were lugging
a wheelbarrow around.

Finished my training
a couple of months back, yeah.

Uniform helps with the ladies?

I wish.

The Landlady's got a strict "no
guests" rule.

Especially female ones.

This is delicious, sir.

You should try some.

No thank you, Sergeant.

Since my last medical,
Mrs Mallory's got me on

a strict diet.
She has spies everywhere.

Happy birthday, Mrs McCarthy.

Oh, Miss Nellins.
What a pleasant surprise.

Miss Nellins offered to help
with the catering.

No dogs were harmed.

Now your move from America
is permanent,

will we be seeing you at Mass again?

I always remember you and your
sister belting out the hymns.

Not really my cup
of tea nowadays, Father. Sorry.

Told you. It's the uniform.

No shame. Just like her sister.

Mrs Langdon.

Frances Penmark was a sweet,
God-fearing young woman.

On the surface.

Before her accident,

she was carrying on behind
Walter Penmark's back.

Oh, that's poppycock.

Frances barely left the house except
to go to church or the shops.

You're not suggesting it was that
dreadful butcher?

FATHER BROWN CLEARS HIS THROAT

Either way, I'm not one to gossip.

Especially as poor Frances is not
there to defend herself.

In the current climate,
I think you'll find...

My properties are not for sale,
Mr Belcroft.

You cannot stop progress,
Mr Penmark.

No. But I can stop you.

I'll show myself out.

Good morning.

Good morning,
Father.

Morning. Father. Hello.

Good morning. Morning.

Sorry I'm late.

Mr Belcroft?

I understood that you worshipped at
St John's in Hambleston?

I was raised an Anglican, Father,
but I keep an open mind.

I wish to get to know
Kembleford better.

One must understand a place in order
to improve it, don't you think?

I hear he's been buying up property
all over Kembleford.

Heaven only knows what for.

Father.

I have a case for you.

A case?

Seen you doing your investigating.

Someone has written
the word "Grando" on my lawn.

In paint.

And there's a dagger
with wings on it.

Grando? Sounds like some comic
book character.

Probably just mischievous children.

Well, I want the little
guttersnipe caught.

Well, I'm afraid, Mrs Langdon,
just now it is time for Mass.

We'll talk later.

ORGAN PLAYS

All ye who seek a comfort sure

In trouble and distress

Whatever sorrow vex the mind

Or guilt the soul compress.

I'll see you at choir practice. I'll
see you later.

Pub? And where have you been,
Sidney Carter?

Overslept. Sorry.

Anyone seen Walter Penmark?

No. Not since yesterday.

I can't remember
the last time he missed Mass.

Perhaps I should visit?

I don't like to think
of him alone in that big house.

Walter Penmark likes to be alone.

Apparently he barely spoke
a single word

to his poor wife,
may-she-rest-in-peace.

Even so...
In any case,

there's a far more urgent matter
to attend to.

Someone has been vandalising
church property.

Probably the same little miscreants
who painted

Peggy Langdon's back garden.

"Fames"?

I know that look.

Yeah, so, do I? It means no pub.

The door and window were locked from
the inside.

There's no open fireplace.
No sign of electrical fault.

No smoking paraphernalia.
There's not even a box of matches.

So he just sat at his desk
and burst into flames?

The fire investigator's on his way
down now.

Might be able to tell us more.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Padre. Let me guess,
you saw the smoke

and thought they were announcing
the next Pope?

Walter Penmark was
a member of my flock.

Can't you give us five minutes?

He's not going anywhere.

Can anyone else smell Scotch?

Well, Mr Penmark was fond of a
drink, even at this early hour.

Have you considered
"spontaneous combustion"?

I read about it in
Modern Wonder magazine.

It's a rare and natural phenomenon.

Some people have been known
to suddenly burst into flames.

Feel free to demonstrate.

If you don't mind.

What the flaming Nora does
"Ignis" mean?

It means it's murder.

Are you saying the drawing in the
hymnal is some kind of threat to me?

Ecclesiasticus 39:35.

Ignis, grando, fames, et mors,

omnia haec ad vindictam creata sunt.

My Latin's a little rusty.

"Ignis" - fire.

"Grando" - hail.

"Fames" - famine.

"Mors" - death.

All of these were created
for vengeance.

We think the winged dagger
symbolises an "avenging angel".

And they've already claimed their
first victim.

An avenging angel? Well, that would
explain how they set fire

to someone inside a locked room.

We need a list of anyone in
Kembleford

that you may have upset or offended.

I've never offended anyone in
my life.

Nonetheless, Mrs McCarthy,

if there's anybody at all that
you can think of.

Yeah. Just in case.

Well, I suppose Mrs French
from the haberdashery.

But that was just a misunderstanding
with the Sewing Circle.

It's a start.

And Mr Begley,

the music teacher from
the primary school.

Mr Begley. Right.

Well, it was hardly my fault that he
was tone-deaf.

Oh, and there was that
new veterinarian,

Mrs Barrington.

I had to ask her to leave the choir.

And Miss Cleary from
the Salvation Army.

Well, she's just
a difficult woman.

Should've asked her to list
the people she hasn't offended.

Where do we start, Inspector?

Peggy Langdon.
We'll warn her about the threat

and see if any of her nemeses
overlap with Mrs McCarthy's.

Mrs McCarthy?

What?

We think you should stay at
the Presbytery for

the moment,
so we can keep an eye on you.

Yeah, until this thing is sorted,

you consider me your own
personal bodyguard.

Oh, Sidney. Thank you.
You're both very kind.

Father?
Argh.

Something the matter?
You tell me, son.

Sid. How can we help, Mr Belcroft?

I heard the terrible news about
Mr Penmark.

Please do pass on my condolences
to any surviving family members.

I don't think there are any,

apart from his sister-in-law,
Miss Nellins.

Mr Penmark's wife died before they
were blessed with children.

Such a pity. I must be getting on.

What's his game?

He's surely not after
Mr Penmark's properties?

The man's body's barely cold.

Perhaps we should see who else stood

to gain from Walter
Penmark's death?

And go to the shops.

Well, you said "Fames" means famine.

And if someone's trying
to starve me to death,

well, they'll have another thing
coming.

Because I am going to bake like I
have never baked before.

Things are looking up.

Did you hear what we said,

Mrs Langdon?
Someone's threatening to.

What could anyone possibly have
against me?

Mrs Langdon. Just because somebody
barbecued that joyless

snake of a man
doesn't mean I'm in danger.

The message was probably meant
for one of my guests.

Anyone in mind?

We had someone stay last
week.

Foreign, he was.

Definite shiftiness about
the eyes. Probably meant for him.

Do you have a name?

I'd have to look it up.
It was something foreign.

I think we're done.

What about my garden?

We will do our best to apprehend
the culprit, Mrs Langdon.

Too right. Hail, indeed.
You can kill a person with fire,

yes, but hail in
the middle of summer?

She does have a point, sir.

You've let your imagination get
the better of you, Inspector.

Someone's imagination has got
the better of me.

I should never have listened
to Father Brown.

Thank you, Miss Nellins.

Ruby, please.

After being in the States for
so long,

I can't get used
to all of this formality.

Ruby, then. How's business?

Picking up. Got a few regulars now.

I like the place. It's new,
different.

If you ever decide to sell.

Talking of which,
I was wondering who will inherit

your late brother-in-law's
properties?

I wouldn't know, I'm afraid.

If you'll excuse me.

You sure you won't have anything
to eat, Mrs McCarthy?

Well, if I could decipher this menu.

"Over Easy"?
What's that supposed to mean?

No, no,
I'll be quite content with

a bowl of soup when I get home,
thank you.

Enjoy.
Oh, I am.

My condolences, by the way.

Thanks, but I hardly knew Walter.

He and my sister married after
I moved away.

What made you decide
to come back to Kembleford?

I came back for Frances' funeral.

Seeing the place again, I guess
Kembleford still felt like home.

Do they know how the fire started?

Not yet.

But someone sent Walter Penmark
a note.

It was a threat.

Would you know anyone who?

No.

I mean, I know Walter raised the
rents

of some of his tenants recently.

Mr Fredericks wasn't
so happy about it.

But I can't imagine that
anything would...

Where is she? Where is she?

Can you spare any change?

The old dears have wiped me out.

Of course. How much do you need?

I'm so sorry. I just...
I am going home.

COIN CLINKS

Subvenite, Sancti Dei, occurrite,
Angeli Domini...

Thank you, Mrs Cottrell.

We'll give you a knock if we have
any further questions.

What's happened? Is that...?

Your landlady. Blow to the head.

Probably killed instantly.

Mind telling me your whereabouts
this evening?

I was at the station,
on duty.

Then Ruby's Cafe for a bite
to eat.

Inspector. Found something, sir.

Please say it's
a signed confession.

Not exactly, sir.
It was on the kitchen table.

Richard Belcroft?

He came to see Mrs
Langdon yesterday.

He wanted to buy the guesthouse.

She told him where to go.

Check Mr Belcroft's whereabouts
for this evening.

As for you,
this is a crime scene, so scram.

Only footprints in
the flower-bed belong to the victim.

No sign of a weapon.

And yet somehow she has had her
skull caved in.

Like she was struck by
a deadly blow from on high, sir.

Ice.

Ice?

Well, look. The lawn is dry except
for a wet patch

by the victim's head.

She was struck on the head by a
large block of ice from above.

Like a giant hailstone.

Here we go again.

It's probably thrown from
the roof, or a window.

And the coin in her hand was

a lure to get her into
the right position.

Why bother when you could simply
walk up

and smack her over
the head?

To make it appear like
an unsolvable crime.

That could only be committed by
an avenging angel.

Like a man burnt to death in
a locked room.

We don't even know that was murder.

Until we get the fire report
and postmortem.

Ignis is fire. Grando is
hail.

Murders, trust me.

The only problem is,

where did someone get a large block
of ice in Kembleford

on a hot summer's day?

Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead.

Cabbages.

You must've dozed off.

I've brought you a cup of tea.

You should've woken me.
I'm supposed to be on guard.

Well, I'm still alive,
no thanks to you.

Poor Peggy Langdon.

An acquired taste,
no doubt,

but she didn't deserve what happened
to her.

Argh!
Argh!

What are you sneaking around for?

I thought you might still
be asleep.

Ah, not me. Wide awake,
reporting for duty.

Good. I've been doing some research.

There are three
deep freeze making machines

in Kembleford capable of making a
large block of ice.

One in Mr Fredericks' shop,
one in Ruby's Cafe,

and one in the private residence
of Mr Richard Belcroft.

Which of those three have you
cheesed off?

None of them.

If you have,

now would be a very good time
to make amends.

The chops fresh enough for you,
Mrs McCarthy?

Very satisfactory, thank you.

I can vouch for that. Delicious.

What's on the menu today?

An apology.

Is that so? And for what exactly?

That letter to the council?

Suggesting you had
an infestation of rodents?

That was me. And I'm very sorry.

I knew it. You see,

I've never had a single rat in
this shop.

In Mrs M's defence, she did have
several people talk about rats...

But did you ever see one
for yourself?

Well, not exactly.

I was already struggling
with my rent.

And now half my best customers are
staying away from my shop.

And for that Mrs McCarthy is
truly sorry.

Very much so.

I know why you're apologising.

You think it was me, don't you?

Excuse me? I was in church with
you when Mr Penmark got roasted.

As for Mrs Langdon,
I was here mopping my floor

with half of Kembleford walking past
my window.

Well, perhaps if you sliced your
bacon to a reasonable width

and refrained from bulking out your
sausages with breadcrumbs...

How dare you?

Why don't we all calm down?

You're barred.

I beg your pardon?
You get out my shop. You're barred.

Perhaps...
OUT.

I think we should do as he says.

You organised a petition?

Well, I was concerned that your
cafe

might damage
Kembleford's traditional character.

But now, of course, I realise that
it's an invaluable asset

and I'm very sorry.

Apology accepted.

After all, my sister often wrote
to me saying

how kind you were to her.

She said that you were always there
to help out

or give a word of advice.

I was very fond of Frances.

So, now that we've made up,

you must try one of my hot dogs.

Oh, I'm not sure that I...

I insist.

I've got to get me one of those.

If it helps,
the Queen Mother has tried one.

At a picnic with Eleanor Roosevelt.

Well, can I at least have
a knife and fork?

When in Rome, Mrs McCarthy.

Was the cafe open
yesterday night?

Until eight, yes.

Many customers?

Not really.
Some kids in for ice cream.

And a couple from the campsite up
the road. Why do you ask?

I was wondering if anyone else had
access to your deep freeze?

Just me. It's in the storeroom.
I have the only key.

With hindsight,

being starved to death might
have been preferable.

Speak for yourself.
I could have gone again.

Ah, Mrs McCarthy.
The lab tests are back.

Mr Penmark was drugged.

Barbiturates, probably.

No sign of smoke inhalation, though,
so likely he died before the fire.

I just wanted you to know,
cos it means he wasn't...

Well, you know...

Burned alive?

Exactly.

Some consolation.

Oh, great.

So there's a chance
the murderer might drug me first.

And we still have no idea who's
behind all this.

Not true.

Gideon Fredericks and Ruby Nellins
might have had the means to make ice

but both of them had an alibi
for Peggy Langdon's murder.

So that just leaves Mr Belcroft.

Who, it seems,

was trying to purchase properties
from both of the victims.

Properties they were not keen
to sell.

That still doesn't explain why he'd
want to kill me.

I barely know the man.

Except...

Peggy Langdon said that
Frances

was having an affair before she
died.

What if the man she was seeing was
Richard Belcroft?

Well, I don't see how that connects
to you.

A few weeks before her death,
Frances came to see me.

She wanted to know if it was always
a sin to end a marriage.

What was your response?

Well, I explained that marriage is
very often difficult

and that she'd made
a commitment before God.

And that she should
try to make it work.

What if she ended her relationship
with Mr Belcroft

because of my advice? And now...

Now he's hellbent on wreaking
his revenge.

Sid, go back to the Presbytery
with Mrs McCarthy

and look after her.

I'm going to should speak
with Richard Belcroft alone.

Are you sure that's a good idea?

I know a safe place.

Mr Belcroft.
Thank you for your punctuality.

Your message said it was important.

A matter of death or life.

Isn't that a matter for the police?

Humour me.

The properties you are buying in
Kembleford,

what do you want them for?

Holiday cottages, guest-houses.

Local industry is dying

and tourism is the future.

Walter Penmark and Peggy Langdon

stood in
the way of your business plans.

And Mrs McCarthy, as it turns out,

inadvertently got in
the way of your amorous intentions.

I can assure you I have no amorous
intentions towards Mrs McCarthy.

Frances Penmark?

What led you to the misguided
opinion that I might be involved?

Your deep freeze.

It's an extravagance, I know,

but part of my quest
to drag Kembleford

into the modern world.

Or it would be if the blasted thing
wasn't on the blink.

It's not working?

Keeps cutting out.

Sent it away to be repaired
last week. Weighs a tonne,

I had to pay my old gardener
to pick it up in his van.

You see, Father,

I don't have to murder people
to solve my problems.

I have money for that.

Why are they doing this to me?

We'll get to the bottom of this.
This was left on the doorstep.

Looks like a pig's tongue.
With artistic embellishment.

I've had enough of this.

Father, you'd better go after him.
No, I'll be fine.

Lock the door after me.

I will.

Sid...

Sid. Where are you going?

To end this.
But we don't know who sent it.

Who else has pig tongues
lying around?

And he's stopped her buying food in
his shop.

Famine, remember?

We need to talk about this.

I've done talking.

Look, me and Mrs M,
we haven't always seen eye-to-eye.

But whenever I've needed a hot meal,
a nice cup of tea,

a place to stay, whenever
I have needed someone

to tell me I am being an idiot,

she was there.

So if someone wants to mess
with Mrs M,

they're gonna have to deal with me.

What're you playing at?

Excuse me?
This tongue.

You sent that to Mrs McCarthy,
didn't you?

Why would I send her free meat when
she's barred from my shop?

Don't get clever with me, or I'll
shove that tongue down your throat.

That came out wrong.

Sid. Don't pick a fight with
a man holding a meat cleaver.

You should listen to
the good Father.

You killed them, didn't you?
Not guilty.

Why should I believe you?

Peggy Langdon has been
a customer of mine for years.

As for Mr Penmark,

I won't pretend I'll shed
a tear over him.

He was a cruel man.

And I was not surprised when I heard
about his wife's "accident".

How do you mean, Mr Fredericks?

I know the mechanic who pulled that
poor woman's car

out the river at Fernley Bridge.

It was a dry day,
no skid marks,

and the brakes were working fine.

If she went over the side,

it's because she meant to.

Here to quote more Latin at
me, Padre?

As a matter of fact,
I came to give you this.

Very generous but next time

a bottle of single malt
would suffice.

It was left at the Presbytery,
addressed to Mrs McCarthy.

I see. Log that, will you?

And make sure you wrap it in
something or it'll stink out

the evidence room.
Yes, sir.

We'll be in touch if there's any
more news.

Hope you weren't divulging details
of an ongoing investigation?

Course not, sir.

Here you go.

Don't worry. It'll be our secret.

Been thinking...

Seeing as how the culprit can pass
through locked doors,

leave no footprints
and what-have-you,

you don't think that Frances Penmark
has come back from beyond the grave

to avenge herself on those that
wronged her?

BOTH: No.

Anything?

On the day Frances Penmark died

Walter Penmark was away on business.

With her sister already in
the United States,

the body was identified by their
gardener.

Only there's no name.

Well, maybe have a word with
the neighbours,

see if they knew who it was?

No need.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Father.

Mrs Langdon's sister's coming up
from Devon

to sort the place.
I said I'd make a start.

You worked for Mr and Mrs Penmark,
didn't you?

Did a bit of gardening for them,
if that's what you mean?

That's how you knew about
Walter Penmark's drinking.

He was a proud man.

He worked hard to keep that a
secret.

You handed in your notice
when Frances Penmark died.

It must have been difficult
for you to go back there.

I left to train to be a fireman,
Father. Serve my community.

How long were you
and Mrs Penmark in love?

She was trapped in
an unhappy marriage.

Her husband locked himself in
his study,

working long hours.

And there were you,
just outside her window.

Your landlady cottoned on,
didn't she?

And when Frances discovered
Mrs Langdon was spreading rumours

of her infidelity,

she went to an old friend
for advice.

Mrs McCarthy told her to stay
with her husband,

which she did.

But she couldn't crush
the guilt or the loneliness.

The police report was inconclusive

but you must have known
it was suicide.

You don't know what you're saying.
I was their gardener, that's all.

You wanted revenge on
the husband who made her miserable,

on the gossip who forced her into
a corner,

and on the friend who convinced her
to turn her back on you.

She was like the sunlight on
a Spring morning.

And she loved me, I know she did.

We could've been happy, Father.

So you delivered the note
to Walter Penmark.

And you went back later,
drugged him and set him on fire.

The first on the scene,

it was easy for you to slip
the key back in the lock on

the inside of the door.

Then you killed Peggy Langdon.

The block of ice from
Richard Belcroft's deep freeze.

That freezer went straight
to the workshop.

And as for Mr Penmark,
well, check the fire report.

Alcohol was an accelerant.

He would've gone up in a flash.

But I was in church for a whole hour

before anyone even saw a wisp of
smoke.

You had an accomplice.

Someone who had
a deep freeze of their own.

Someone who could give you
an alibi

for the time of Peggy Langdon's
death.

Who loved Frances Penmark as much
as you.

Someone who travelled halfway around
the world to get revenge.

May I?

Oh, please.
Now help yourself to my scones.

As many as you like.

I'm afraid I got
a bit carried away this morning.

You do seem to have rather a lot.

I actually came to offering my
catering services

at the next church fete.
Oh, really?

I didn't think you were exactly fond
of the church.

I'm fond of Kembleford.

And I spent a lot of time in
the church as a girl.

Sunday school.
Learning right from wrong.

Oh? I mustn't have rinsed

the pot out properly,
it tastes funny...

It was all nonsense,
of course,

but Frances swallowed every word
of it.

Miss Nellins...

So when a stupid old woman told her
that she would rot in hell

unless she stayed with her
cold-hearted, abusive husband,

Frances believed her.

I had no idea what she was
going through.

Well, let me inform you.

Because she told me in her letters.

She feared for her life.

Every. Single. Day.

Stupid woman.

You're making it worse. Leave it.

Get out!

Please,

I was only trying to help.

I really don't want to die.

I don't want you to die.

Not yet.
Not here, anyway.

But come on, chop chop. You've only
got a few more moments

of consciousness left
and I'd hate to have to carry you.

All right.

I'll do whatever you say.

Smile and walk, that's all.

Call out or try to run
and I'll just change my plans

and kill you on the spot.

Now move.

You were in pain.
You lost the woman you loved.

But this ends now.

What are you planning to do
to Mrs McCarthy?

Don't make me run, Mick.
Don't make me...

Nice try.

What are you planning?
You'll see.

Father. That smoke's
coming from the Presbytery.

What about him?!

What have you given me?

Just a little something I brought
over from the States.

It's all the rage over there.

In small doses, it helps you to lose
weight, allegedly.

Too much, though, and your blood
sugar drops through the floor,

you lose consciousness,

fall into a coma,

and die.

Very much like starving to death.
But quicker.

Please, Father.

Mrs M? Mrs M?
Are you in here?

Hello? Mrs M?

No sign of her.

Nor Miss Nellins.
The cafe's locked.

Do you think the smoke was
a distress call?Probably.

Then where is she?!
I'll check her house.

Wait, Walter Penmark and Peggy
Langdon both died

where they
received their messages.

Him in his study,
her in her garden.

Mrs M got hers in...

Sweet dreams. Must dash.

Mr Belcroft has offered
to buy my cafe.

I'm returning to America.

I was going to get the doctor.
Mrs McCarthy is unwell.

Mrs McCarthy? Can you hear me?

What've you done?
Me? Nothing.

Don't lie, Ruby.
You're in a house of God.

It always comes back to God.

Fetch an ambulance.

Hold on. Please.

She can't hear you.
It's appropriate that it ends here.

Where it all began.
The hypocrisy. The petty malice.

Do you blame God
for your sister's death?

I blame people.

For making Frances feel ashamed
and afraid.

That's why the winged dagger is
so appropriate.

A symbol of violence

and fear masquerading
as righteousness.

Do not sully your sister's memory

by speaking of this as
an act of love.

What do you think your sister would
feel

seeing you destroying the lives
of others in her name?

Destroying your own life?

I don't care what happens to me.

You will.

When the dust settles
and the grief is still there.

When you realise your vengeance has
achieved nothing,

solved nothing.

And this will haunt you for
the rest of your life.

Ambulance is coming,
but it'll be a while.

What have you given her.

It's too late.

Not if I wring your neck, it's not.

Sid.

Bridgit, God is with you.

He will help you to fight this.

Why? Ruby?

If it hadn't been for Mrs McCarthy,

Frances would have left Walter.

She could have been happy.

Listen to your heart.

Frances would not have wanted this.

And what about what I want?

I want my sister back.

I want this pain to stop.

This pain?

It's guilt.

Guilt, that you weren't there.

Guilt, that you couldn't save her.

But you can save her friend.

Because whatever advice
Mrs McCarthy gave,

she was her friend.

And she's my friend, too.

And I am begging you,

don't let my friend die.

Chemist. Activated charcoal.

I just want my sister back.

Ave Maria, gratia plena,
Dominus tecum.

Benedicta tu in mulieribus,

et benedictus fructus ventris tui,
Iesus. Christos.

Mick Bidley didn't get far.

We nabbed him trying to get on
a bus in Hambleston.

Put up a bit of a fight
but nothing my men couldn't handle.

And Ruby Nellins has made
a full confession.

I shall pray for them both.

Poor Frances.

I only wish she'd told
me everything.

Maybe I could have done more
to help her.

Your words came with
the best intentions.

Still, I'll be more careful about
what advice

I offer in the future.

And after what happened
to Peggy Langdon,

I certainly won't be listening
to any more idle gossip.

Glad to hear it, Mrs M.

By the way,
I had a word with Mr Fredericks

and he's agreed
to let you back in the shop.

Reckons, under the circumstances,
you've been punished enough.

Oh, that's very civil of him.

We'll leave you to rest.

That's the third gentleman caller
she's had today.

What?
Nothing.

I wasn't casting aspersions.

We're just really glad that you're
on the mend, Mrs M.

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