All language subtitles for Danger Man - Secret Agent S2E15 - Whatever happened to George Foster

Thank you.

Drop the rest of the
stuff at my flat, please.

Shop?

Yes?

Good morning, John Drake,
World Travel.

Isn't it a little early for calling?

Yes.

Rather lucky to find you here.

Well, I'm perfectly satisfied

with our present travel arrangements.

That's nice for you.

You are Miss Certhia Cooper?

Yes, I am, but I'm very tired.

We are interested in Santo Marco.

Oh.

I wouldn't have thought it had
much attraction for tourists.

Well, you seem to like it there.

Not particularly.

I go there on business, occasionally.

Yes, of course.

If culture comes, the
tourists can't be far behind.

I think it's got a great potential

when the political situation
there quietens down.

I know nothing about politics.

My interests are purely cultural.

Yes, your society is very keen on bringing

the good things of life to Santo Marco.

We do our best.

You spent a lot of money there,

considering it's a small country.

We don't discuss our finances.

Let me guess.

In the last six months,
I should think you spent

a quarter of a million bringing
culture to Santo Marco.

Have you any idea how much it costs

to take a symphony
orchestra to Santa Marco?

About 7,520 sterling, at the very most.

It leaves a tidy balance, doesn't it?

You're very well informed.

I do my best.

Actually, I'm here under false pretenses.

You could have fooled me.

I'd like to have a talk with whoever it is

is behind your society.

They prefer to remain anonymous.

Who can blame them?

They'd be very upset to find
the best part of their money

is being misused.

Oh?

Yes, it's finding its way into the hands

of political agitators
who want to bring down

the government in Santo Marco

and wreck its economic program.

Oh, you have a very powerful imagination.

Yes, it's one of the nice things about me.

Now, if you could put me in
touch with your principal...

And if I don't?

There are ways.

I do believe you're threatening me.

Does that worry you?
-Not in the least.

If you'd like to leave
your telephone number,

I'll see what we can do.

You won't forget?

No, I won't.

You might have to though.

You're very sure of yourself.

Yes, I am.

The number's on the card.

Goodbye.

Hello.

Yes, it's John, here.

Yes, I know.

It's silly of me.

I've just discovered it.

Can I come round and pick it up?

Yeah, all right.

On my way.

Don't look round.

Tell your friends, the next time

they want to search my
house to give me a call.

There's nothing here of interest.

Ginger, take these down
to graphics, will you?

Oh, I knew you'd come back one day.

I tried to fight it.

I love you for losing.

I hope it is me you're after.

I wouldn't be here otherwise.

That's what I like to hear.

Let's have a cup of that filthy tea.

Ginger, two teas, please.

How's the travel business?

Stimulating.

You mean it matches your personality.

Why did I never fully appreciate you

when we worked together?

Because your faithless rogue, John Drake.

Next question.

Do you remember a girl who
used to work on Fleet Street?

Certhia Cooper.

I think I once met her with you.

If you think I'm going
to spend my declining years

carrying messages between
you and that pretentious...

Oh, Pauline, you know
that you're the only girl

in the world that I've
ever really cared for.

You would not love me, dear, so much

loved you not Miss Cooper more.

Thank you, Ginger.

This is strictly business.

I'm listening.

I've been trying to set up a travel deal

with a Latin American government

and I've come up against a certain amount

of unexpected opposition.

Miss Cooper may be connected with it.

What can you tell me about her?

Oh, I suppose I've got to believe you.

First of all, whoever heard
of a girl called Certhia?

I think it's rather an attractive name.

I looked it up once.

It's a bird, a tree creeper.

I always thought it very appropriate.

Well, she worked her way
through the assistant editor,

the editor, and the managing
editor, then she left.

How about the editor in chief?

He was in New York at the time.

Ah.

She'll use you, too.

I can think of a worse fate.

Listen, Certhia is a
predatory, scheming, megalomaniac.

A career girl of the very worst kind.

Hello?

Certhia, darling, what a lovely surprise.

Yes, he's here.

Black Bess herself

John Drake.

I was telling someone
how interested you were

in Santo Marco.

How nice.

Who?

You'll be seeing him at six this evening.

Where do I find him?

Penthouse, Park Lane.

All right, I'll be there.

Thank you.

Oh, by the way, the next time
you want to search my house,

let me know in good time.

I see you have the keys.

Right.

Good bye.
-Bye bye.

Well, well, well, well.

How did she know you were here?

I left a message at my
office that I'd be with you.

What's that?

Cosy drinks with Certhia?

No, not Certhia, a penthouse in Park Lane.

Nothing but the best.

Thank you, Ginger.

Bye bye.

Which is the way to apartment 700?

There is only one
apartment on this floor, Sir.

Mr. Drake?

Yeah.

If you'd come in,
Lord Ammanford is expecting you.

The Lord Ammanford?

I was under the impression there was only

one Lord Ammanford, Sir.

Yes, of course.

Come in.

Mr. Drake, my lord.

Please, come in, Mr. Drake.

I'll be with you in a moment.

How are you, Mr. Drake?

Very good of you to come.

Excuse me, will you.

Tell the prime minister, Miss Turniston,

that I'll be delighted to
dine with him on Thursday.

That'll be all.

I shall want you again in
10 minutes, Miss Cheshire.

And, let the ambassador
know that I shan't be able

to dine with him because I shall be

in Washington that evening.

Now, Mr. Drake, Miss Cooper
tells me you have a problem.

Perhaps the problem is yours, Sir.

I'm too rich to have problems.

I only have attitudes.

What's worrying you?

I understand that you
are behind the Society

for Cultural Relations with Latin America.

You do?

You should keep a closer watch on them.

They're getting out of hand.

Oh?

Your money is not being
used to teach happy peasants

how to play the flute.

You're a cynic, Mr. Drake.

We should get on.

It's being channeled into
a revolutionary movement

which wants to overthrow the government.

Well, you can't trust
anyone these days, can you?

So, I take it that you don't care

what happens in Santo Marco

as long as your profits are protected?

You've got a very old-fashioned idea

of capitalism, Mr. Drake.

Or a very old-fashioned idea of democracy.

Look, by investing our
capital in that country,

we've helped them to
climb up out of a swamp

of ignorance and primitive bondage.

For a fee.

Why not? Why not?

Do you work for love?

If we didn't help them, they'd starve.

But, they want to be left
alone to help themselves.

Who can blame them?

You seem to be against
progress, Mr. Drake.

Freedom can be more important.

Than we must agree to differ.

How is Manton?

Manton?

Your boss, Sir Joseph
Manton of the Foreign Office.

I work for World Travel.

Your boss's boss, then.

I'm sorry, Sir, I don't understand you.

Oh, come now, Drake.

We're both men of the world.

Manton's a bit set in his ways,

but he's a sound man, at heart.

Well, thank you for coming.

It's always a pleasure to meet
an intelligent civil servant.

Peter?

Oh, excuse me.

Dave and Wendy are off to bed.

My grandchildren.

This is Mr. Drake.

My wife.
-How do you do?

Are you married?
-No

Oh, you should be.

Without a family, you miss quite a lot.

Well, goodbye, Drake.

Au revoir, Sir.

Good night, Lady Ammanford.
-Goodnight.

Seems a nice young man.

Yes.

What a pity.

Ah, Drake.

Good of you to come around so promptly.

We haven't met before.

I'm Manton.

How do you do, Sir Joseph.

Do sit down, make yourself comfortable.

Can I offer you some sherry?

Oh, thank you very much.

So, you've been in Santo Marco.

You're working very hard, I hear.

I was there once, briefly, in 54.

I rather liked the look of the place.

Suppose it's changed a lot since then.

For the better, I think.

One hopes so.

Still, these new republics
have their troubles,

like running in a new car.

Yes, I agree, but this government appears

to be having more than
its fair share of unrest.

Yes, and I'm afraid that's
an occupational hazard

of most governments.

Their opposition are
certainly very violent.

They're paid to be.

Yes.

I heard you had views about that.

They're more than views.

The opposition has a highly
organized undercover movement,

which has interests at
heart other than the welfare

of the people.

Isn't there some cultural
society you've taken against?

You've been speaking to Lord Ammanford.

Yes, I did happen to meet him in the club.

He told me that you and
he had had a get together.

He's a tough old bird.

He's done a lot for Santo Marco.

Like trying to capsize the government.

I wonder if a man like that would really

make himself so vulnerable.

He might, if he thought they were going

to nationalize his oil
fields and his bauxite mines.

I can't really believe
he'd mix in local politics.

No doubt he's surrounded by
men who are handsomely paid

to read his mind.

You're an intelligent man, Drake,

and you know that in these modern times

politics and industry must
march together hand in hand.

Now, I know that your job
takes you very close to...

What shall I say?

Immediate events.

But, sometimes people like
myself, who are more detached,

can see things more clearly.

Local agitators are being
paid to incite these riots

and unless something is
done about them immediately,

they'll escalate into a
full-scale revolution.

Oh, come, come.
-Which is what

Ammanford intends.
-Really, Drake.

That's a slanderous statement, you know.

Slanderous, perhaps, but true.

I can't believe it.

However, I mustn't keep you.

I've enjoyed meeting
you and it's always nice

to put a face to a name.

What are you working on next?

Nothing until this business is cleared up.

I think it's time you
closed the Santo Marco file.

You know, you've been working very hard.

You could do with a break.

I can't take one at the moment.

I've instructed your
department that they'll have to

do without you for a month.

They've arranged for you
leave to start from today.

Is that so, Sir?

Excuse me.

Hello, yes?

The who?

Oh, the Minister.

Yes, of course.

Will you excuse me, Drake?

We must continue this
conversation at some other time.

Mustn't keep the master waiting.

I've enjoyed meeting you.

We must get together at
the club for lunch one day.

Of course, Sir.

Going somewhere?

What a dear, little house.

I'm glad you approve.

I'm not here for long.

Working overtime?

Quick trip to Santo Marco.

The society lives on.

You mustn't be a bad loser.

You know, Lord Ammanford really liked you.

Yes, I've heard that
executioners grow quite fond

of their victims, in the end.

What are you working on now?

I'm on leave.

Oh, how nice for you.

Going anywhere special?

I thought I might take a quick trip.

Like a tour around Scotland?

A bit chilly up there at the moment.

You'd survive.

Well, I must fly now.

Whoops, bad joke.

Don't take any wooden pesos.

You either.

Goodbye.
-Adios.

Yes.

Yes, I've got that.

You're canceling.

Santo Marco.

All right.

You're welcome.

Good evening, Sir.

Drake.

John Drake.

I have a seat on the
flight to Santo Marco.

I don't think so, Sir.

I telephoned earlier.

Well, I don't know who told you that, Sir.

The flight's fully booked.

Well, then I'll have the cancellation.

What cancellation?

The one you've just taken.

That's for another flight.

The plane's half empty.

Is that for another flight, too?

Really, Sir, I don't
make the seating plan.

If you have any complaints,
please make them to head office.

They're closed.

That's right.

Good evening, Mr. Drake.

Miss Cooper.

Well, Mr. Drake, you're an impulsive man.

Let's hope you're not
a stupid one, as well.

Thank you.

I was stupid to forget that Lord Ammanford

is chairman of the airline.

Goodbye.

Thank you so much.

Any joy?

I told you that girl was no good.

All right, cut out the jokes.

Is this the Ammanford file?

Did you talk to the editor?

I talked round it.

Look, John, I told you it was no good.

No one's going to take a story
about a man like Ammanford

unless he's done something clearly...

That plane was half empty.

There may have been a very good reason...

He's not gonna get away with it.

Look, Sir Lancelot,
this is the 20th century.

I'm telling you that being rich

isn't gonna keep him out of trouble.

All right.

Just give me a call when you want somebody

to pick up the pieces.

We'll see about that.

Aren't you taking this a bit personally?

Am I?
-Yes.

Trying to dig up a piece
of dirt out of a man's past

to use against him.

Where does he come from?

Oh, a place called Llancwmbrach.

It's in Wales, in case you hadn't guessed.

And, what was his name before

they made him Lord Ammanford?

Jones boy, a real Welsh name.

What else, but Peter Jones?

Well, that doesn't get us far.

I better get down there, to...

What's the name of it.

Llancwmbrach.

Thanks very much for your help.

I'll see you.

I shall be very interested
to read your book, Mr. Drake.

Oh, we're really proud of Lord
Ammanford in this village.

He's done a lot for us, he has.

Do you remember him as a boy?

Very well.

He was plain Peter Jones then, of course.

A lively little lad.

Are his parents still alive?

Ah, now, there you've got me.

Where did he live?

My memory's not as good as it was.

It might have been up in the terrace,

near the old slate quarry.

Yes.

But, I wouldn't swear to it.

Could you tell me where
I might be able to find

any of his relations?

That's another question.

There are so many Jones-es in the valley.

Now, let me think, let me think.

There's Jones, the police.

No, he's far too young.

Then, there's Jones the schoolmaster.

Now, he might remember the boy.

No, no relative of mine,
but a nice boy, mind you.

Of sturdy, Welsh stock, he was.

Dark?

Brown eyes.

His hair was like wire and
black as a crow's wing.

Sallow complexion?

Well, he was pale, but the boy was always

at his books, you see.

I see.

Thank you, Mr. Jones.

Was he a relation of yours, Miss Jones?

I should hope not.

Why's that?

Well, that would be
telling now, wouldn't it.

I see.

He had fair hair, didn't he?

Oh, so soft it was, too.

And, blue eyes.

The devil.

I can see them now.

Blue as the sea, they were.

On a fine day, of course.

Thank you so much, Miss Jones.

Goodbye.

You say you knew him well.

Yes, like my own son.

Then, you're the man
to tell me all about him.

Where'd he live?

Oh, down by the bridge, for sure.

Which house?

Oh, somewhere down that end.

And, his hair, was it dark or fair?

Well, now...

His eyes, were they blue or brown?

Now, that's a question.

And, was he a little devil
or something of a bookworm?

Well, to speak truly, he was...

Well, I can't rightly remember.

It was many years ago.

Yet, you knew him like your own son.

Yes, like my own son.

To think that's he's now Lord Ammanford.

Could it be that, perhaps,

there's more than one Peter Jones

or even no Peter Jones at all?

Hello, yes?

Yes, this is The Ship.

Who?

Oh, yes, that's right.

He's waiting.

Yes, he's here.

Mr. Drake, your call to London.

Thank you.

Pauline, hello there.

Getting anywhere?

Your Peter Jones appears
to have been a blue-eyed,

brown-eyed, fair haired,
dark boy who was a little bit

of a devil of a bookworm.

Are you sure you didn't make him up?

No, listen.

I went down to the passport office.

I managed to talk myself
into the archives.

It wasn't easy.

They're not really
supposed to let anyone in.

All right, you're a clever girl.

Well, they had the original application,

names of the parents,
Ruthyn and Bronwen Jones.

Everybody's Jones down here.

But, they don't all
live at Pennygwynt Farm.

Excuse me.

Could you tell me where
to find Mr. Ruthyn Jones?

It would presumptuous
to postulate on that now.

Why's that?

Well, he's been dead
these, oh, five years.

Do you live around here?

Over on the hill, there.

Then, I expect you knew his son, Peter?

All my life.

He was a fine man.

An honest man and a good friend.

Who's the deceased?

Why, Peter Jones, man.

God rest his soul.

Excuse me, Sir?

Yeah?
-There's no bus

for another two hours.

Which way are you going?

Llancwmbrach.

I wonder whether you'll be kind enough

to drop me off at the station?

Yes, of course.

Jump in.
-Thank you so much.

Now, I'll be able to catch
the twelve o'clock train.

You're a good Samaritan.

Would you give us a hand?

Just a little extra
weight, we'll have her out.

You know, the trouble is
that you're always ready

to interfere in somebody else's business.

Don't move.

No hard feelings.

Mr. Drake, my lord.

Show him in, please.

My dear, Mr. Drake, I wasn't expecting

to hear from you again.

Why not?

I'll just finish this letter.

What can I offer you in the
way of something to drink?

Whisky.

Now then.

My dear fellow, you have been in the wars.

Just a preliminary skirmish.

You must have rubbed
somebody up the wrong way.

Yes.

I must have done.

But, don't think I'm too
old to appreciate enthusiasm.

You're a very keen man, Mr. Drake.

Now, what can I do for you?

I've just come back from Wales,

a place called Llancwmbrach.

Lovely country.

Of course, you know it.

It was a long time ago.

How did you first come
to meet Ruthyn Jones?

Ruthyn Jones?

I don't remember him.

As I said, it was a long time ago.

That's curious.

He was your father.

Father?

What are you talking about?

You see, we've been
excavating in the archives

of the passport office.

So?

Do you know they've got
your first application

for a passport, 35 years ago?

That, Drake, is a confidential document.

And, an inaccurate one.

In it you state that your
father was Ruthyn Jones,

husband of Bronwen.

You'll be interested to know
that I attended your funeral

yesterday, that is,
if you are Peter Jones,

son of Ruthyn.

I hope you're not trying to threaten me.

No, no, I'm just interested,

that's all.

Why did you have to
make a false statement?

I suppose that at some time earlier,

you changed your name to Jones
and when you had to apply

for a passport, you daren't
give your original name.

Now, what happened to make you change it?

You seem to have a
wide range of interests.

Only one, really, at the moment.

I can't help feeling
involved in the situation

in Santo Marco.

You're not going to
make a speech, are you?

Just a short one.

They'd managed to
achieve a sort of freedom

and just because some
foreign business interest

didn't like their new setup there,

they financed a revolution and pushed

the poor little devils
back into the jungle.

I don't think you quite
realize how powerful I am.

Oh, yes, indeed, I do.

I only wish I could be impressed.

You don't have to be
impressed, just careful.

I can ruin you, Drake,
physically, professionally, mentally.

You name it.

And, there's nothing you
can do in return to harm me.

Absolutely nothing.

Peter, it's past your bedtime.

I'm just coming up, my dear.

You remember Mr. Drake?

Yes, I do and I shall
be very angry with you

if you keep my husband up.

Now, you can drink your hot milk in here

and then, I insist you come to bed.

All right, my dear.

Don't say I haven't warned you, Mr. Drake.

Quite, Lady Ammanford.

Well, I hope I made myself clear

and that we can be good friends.

Friends, yes.

You could be very useful to me.

I have many interests.

I'll let you know when I'm on the market.

I can be a very good
friend, but a very bad enemy.

If it wasn't for the central
heating, I'd be shivering.

Thanks for the drink.

It's 999 for the police.

Doubtless with your
connections, you could have me

arrested for breaking into my own house.

Ah ha!

You're improving.

Is this a social visit?

Of course.

You haven't noticed.

Suits you.

Have a drink.

Help yourself.

What tidings of joy and
whatnot do you bring me?

That depends.

How?

What I like about you is
the way you're so cryptic.

What I like about myself is
the way that I don't like you.

You could make a girl feel inadequate.

Could?

Oh, all right, you do.

All right, now we know where
we stand with each other.

Perhaps you'd like to go?

I'm lonely.

There's a very nice bus
stop at the end of the mews.

You'll meet a lot of friends there.

Suppose I don't want a lot
of friends, just the one.

There are respectable
agencies which introduce people

to other people, for a fee, of course.

A fee?

How much?

Ah, I see.

You've come to pay me
off, if I'm a good boy.

You are going to be a good boy, then?

That depends.

Oh, on what?

10,000 pounds at the very least,

in cash, of course.

Aren't you rather over
estimating your nuisance value?

I don't think so.

You see, I haven't really started yet.

You know, people have tried

to get in Lord Ammanford's way before.

Now, I'm really frightened.

One of your friends?

Before we're interrupted,
I think 10,000 pounds

could be arranged.

We'd want you to leave the country

for a month or two, of course.

No, thank you.

I just wanted to know how much you cared.

Excuse me.

John, I found...
-Ah, come and say hello

to an old friend of yours.

Oh, hello, Certhia.

What a lovely surprise.

Yes, isn't it?

I hope I'm not interrupting anything.

Oh, no, nothing, just business.

I didn't realize it was so late.

Goodnight, Pauline.

Goodnight, Certhia.

Do try and be sensible.

Oh, yes.

I always look both ways
before I cross the road.

Goodnight.

What did that tree creeper want?

Just the gypsy's warning.

What have you found out about him?

Oh, well, they were
married in Australia in 1930,

after a romantic elopement.

It caused quite a scandal at the time.

1930, that's when he first applied

for a passport, wasn't it?

Two years later, when they
came back, all was forgiven.

She was a considerable
heiress, by the way.

I see, that's how he got his start.

And, never looked back.

Well, I'm going to.

Do you know where she was
living before he first met her?

No, but I know where she grew up.

Yes?

The Manor, Fontingbridge.

His old nanny still lives in the village.

It was a draughty, old place.

Oh, but it brings back memories.

Do the family still live there?

I beg your pardon?

Do the family still live there?

Oh, no, dear.

It's a school, now.

So, you're writing a book
about Lord Ammanford?

How nice.

I was his wife's nanny, you know.

That's why I came to see you.

I always knew she'd make a good marriage.

A little angel she was, and her sister.

You know, their mother used to say to me,

nanny Brown, without you,
I don't know what would have become

of those children.

Did you know Lord Ammanford?

Did you know him well?

No.

He wasn't from round here, you know,

but she was a little angel.

But, you did know him?

No, but what a fine
man he turned out to be.

Yes, splendid.

Have you got any other family photographs?

Oh, I've got hundreds of them.

Any of Lord and Lady Ammanford

at the time of their marriage?

Oh, no.

No, that's one I haven't got.

Isn't that them?

Oh, no, that's her dear
sister, another little angel.

Wasn't she a little dream?

Oh, I mustn't miss the 3:30, dear.

I don't see how Marsupial can lose at the weight.

They're coming into line, now.

They're going to be away first time and...

Do you mind if I borrow this photograph?

Take a look at the chauffeur.

He's not my type, really.

What about him?

Take a closer look.

Recognize him?

A bit before my time, Isn't it?

Judging from the clothes.

I think, perhaps, you will now.

John Drake, your clever with it.

You mean Peter Jones
isn't Peter Jones, but...

That's right, Lord
Ammanford isn't Peter Jones

and never was.

At the time this photograph
was taken, he was a chauffeur.

All I have to do now is to
find out who he was working for

and what his real name was before

they made him his lordship.

Morning, nanny.

I'm returning your photograph and I hope

that you'll accept this little present.

The man in the photograph, here,

do you remember who he was?

You told me a lie, Mr. Drake.

A lie?

About what?

You said you were writing
a book about Lord Ammanford.

I know all about you, Mr. Drake.

If you'll give me my photograph,
I'll thank you to be going.

But, if he drove for the family,

you must have known him.

He didn't.

It was a hire car.

I wish I could help you,

but old man Taylor sold
out long before the war.

Some of the old drivers
stayed through the war,

but I don't remember this one.

Stan?

This gentleman is asking about a driver

who was here before the war.

Do you remember him?

Must have been before my time.

You could ask old Charlie Hewitt.

He might know.

Old Charlie, I'd forgotten him.

Hewitt?
-Yeah.

He's an old man.

He used to wash the cars here.

Where's he live now?

Same old place, down by Green End Lane.

Do you know your way around here?

Well, not too well, I'm afraid.

I know old Charlie's place.

I'll show you.

That's very kind of you.
-Well, we're not Londoners

here, you know.

We don't mind helping people.

Anyway, I live up that way.

How about your bike?

Oh it's packed up.

Well, thanks very much.

Take a look at it for me, would you, Stan?

We don't mind helping ourselves, either.

Scared?

You look to me like a fast driver.

How does a fast driver look?

Like you.

Now, you gave us a
telephone number in London,

a special government telephone
number where you said

somebody would adequately
explain your actions.

Now, we telephoned that number
and the person concerned

denies all knowledge of you.

Do you wish to say anything further?

If I said anything,
you wouldn't believe me anyway,

would you?

Well, you'd better
think of some explanation

for the stolen property
we found in the back

of your motor car.

All right, I'm gonna hold you in custody

while further inquiries are being made.

This one.

Charlie Hewitt?

I didn't know them tyres were stolen.

I want some information.

I tell ya, I never knew
them tyres was nicked, Sir.

All right, I'll forget
about that if you help us now.

This man here. Used to work at Taylor's.

Do you remember him?

Where'd I put my specs?

Well, well.

Fancy that now.

That's George Foster.

Not Jones?

No, Foster.

Did you know him well?

No.

Not my type, really.

You know, he wasn't honest.

He went off and left his wife and kids.

Do you know where his wife is now?

Yeah, she's at Potts End.

She made him pay for
leaving her, all right.

You shouldn't have run away, you know.

The police won't like that.

I felt it my duty to
tell them where you were.

That's very public spirited of you.

No hard feelings.

I thought there must have been a divorce.

Certainly not.

George Foster wanted one, of course,

but I don't believe in it.

So, you're still his legal wife.

I am, for all the good it does me.

You don't exactly appear to be living

in poverty, Mrs. Foster.

Well, naturally, I saw to
it that Foster did his duty

by me and the children.

As a man sows, so must he reap.

Very moral of you.

So, you kept silent
about his forgetfulness

in marrying again while
he still had a wife?

Marrying that woman is a matter

for his conscience, not mine.

Very convenient.

What are your views on
blackmail, Mrs. Foster?

All I ever made him do
was his duty to his family.

I think you'd better go, Mr. Drake.

Yes, very well.

Thank you.

And, you will please not tell anyone

about this distressing matter.

I understand. You do not wish to lose

your lucrative pension.

What's the penalty for hiding a man

who's wanted by the police?

Not more than 10 years, I should think.

Oh.

I wish you'd tell me what it's all about.

I've got to get Lord
Ammanford before he gets me.

I see.

If that's the travel business,

I think I'll stick to the regular army.

Your little friend,
Miss Cooper, likes to play it rough.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

That girl is poison, spelled B-I-T-C-H.

Hello, Pauline.

Oh, hello, Certhia.

I'm sorry just to drop by like this.

Oh, that's all right.

Come in, won't you?

Thank you.

What a dear little room.

I'm so glad you like it.

Won't you have a drink or something.

No, I won't.

Thank you.

I thought I heard voices.

Oh, yes.

I talk to myself-- We old maids.

Actually, I was looking for John Drake.

I promised to arrange something for him.

John Drake?

Well, he never comes around here.

You should have phoned.

I'm in the book.

I never thought of that.

You have no idea where I
might find him, have you?

Oh, you know John, always hither and yon.

Well, in that case,
darling, I won't keep you.

Really, you're not.

I have to run.

It's been such ages since we met.

I hoped to hear all the news.

We must have lunch next week.

I don't think I could bear the excitement

of waiting that long.

Really, I must go.

Really, you must stay.

Pauline, what's come over you?

The mad desire to tell
you what I think of you.

Get your hands off me,
you grubby little journalist.

Get me another brandy and soda, Webb.

Don't you think, perhaps,
you're drinking too much?

I'll give you 30 seconds
to get out of here.

If you go to my bank in the morning,

you'll be given 20,000 pounds

and an airline voucher for 600.

Well spoken, George Foster.

If you'd listened to me,
you could have saved us both

a lot of trouble.
Because I know, that in 1929,

there wasn't much future
for someone with a wife

and two children, working in
a car hire firm in Birmingham.

Was there?

Of course, you could earn a
little bit extra on the side

giving driving lessons to the gentry.

You'll stop at nothing, will you?

I couldn't find any
record of George Foster

having been divorced.

She was a horrible woman.

I met her yesterday.

She took some finding.

Oh, I know you looked
after her handsomely,

and the children.

She saw to that.

It was either pay or divorce
and a charge of bigamy,

so you paid, plenty.

You've done a wonderful job, haven't you?

Yes, I'm rather pleased with myself.

But, you're exactly where you started.

Is that so?

Mr. Drake, there's nothing
that you can possibly do

to harm me.

No newspaper would A, listen
to, and B, print one word

of what you've just found out.

No businessman would let your little story

shave one pound off
the profits I give him.

No, there's nothing that you
or your kind can do to me.

I know that one shouldn't
say this to a millionaire,

but you're wrong.

There's nothing you can do.

I'm afraid there is.

Hello, Mr. Drake.

You're quite a fixture these days.

I just want to try this sleeve.

Hold your arm up, Peter.

There.

You can put your arm down now.

I'll leave you in peace.

I know that if I told
the story to your wife

you could dismiss it as
the ravings of a lunatic,

so I've taken the precaution
of typing it out in full

and having it duplicated.
There are about 200 copies in existence

with photostat copies
of birth certificates,

passport applications, the lot.

If you're not completely out
of Santo Marco in half an...

no, 20 minutes from now,

a friend of mine has
instructions to send the story

to every influential editor, politician,

and public figure that I could think of.

So, you see, your wife
will find out after all

and what a clown that'd make of you.

The fearless Lord Ammanford, a bigamist.

You could never live with that.

Much easier to sink your
pride and do as I say.

All right, you won.

Oh, no.

No, I haven't won.

All those little people that
you said you were helping

to climb up out of a swamp of ignorance

and primitive bondage, they won.

They may not know it yet, but they won.

I've prepared a statement
for you to read out

over the telephone to
the Press Association.

You've discovered that
your cultural organization

in Santo Marco is being misused
and you are winding it up.

Sensation!

Lord Ammanford sensation!

Yes, that's quite correct.

No.

No, I've nothing to add.

No.

Goodnight.

Peter, is the telephone
going to ring all night?

Oh, you look worn out.

No, I'm just coming, dear.

I should hope so.

Well, I can see when I'm not wanted.

I'll leave this with you.

Take good care of it.

It's the only copy there is.

Goodnight.

Thank you.

Goodnight and thank you.