All language subtitles for Dalziel.and.Pascoe.S05E02.Cunning.Old.Fox.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor1

Yah!

Come on, catch up.

Come on!

Well now.

Go on!

- Too much then?

- Too much of what?

- Whatever you had last night.

You've gotta line your stomach.

Nothin' like a bit of fish oil.

- You could make
a bit less noise.

- Oh, furry, you'd have
me sucking through a straw

if you're that sensitive.

- Oh, go on, you stopped
chewin' so you must be thinkin'.

- Only one of my
many prejudices.

Georgina Webster, much
respected member

of the Harlesden Hunt,

died tragically on Saturday
when her horse shied the hedge.

- And which particular prejudice

are we talkin' about now, Andy?

- Hunting, just can't
deal with it.

I'd give the horse a medal.

Just a lot of posh pillocks
with a silver spoon

who've got the job of
chasing a sweet little fox.

- It's not all posh pillocks.

The foxes do a lot of damage.

Countrysides in meltdown,

it deserves a bit of respect.

- How would you like
your guts being pulled

out of your stomach and
eaten by a pack of hounds?

- If you don't like it,

you can always move
out, you know.

All flesh is
not the same flesh.

But there is one kind
of flesh of men,

another flesh of beasts,
another of fishes,

and another of birds.

That are also celestial bodies,

and bodies terrestrial,

but the glory of the
celestial is one,

and the glory of the
terrestrial is another.

There is one glory of the sun,

and another glory of the moon,

and another glory of the stars.

- Hold on, Henry.

One star differeth
from another star in glory.

- Oh, it's awful.

- A lot of people are bound
and don't give a toss.

Aint that right, Victor?

I'm afraid so.

- I'll be at the house if
you need someone to talk to.

Or a large malt.
- Thanks for that, James.

- Not now, Birdyce, it's
a bloody funeral.

- Sorry, Mr. Marsham.

Let's go in, Henry.

There's only one thing
for you to do now, Henry.

Take yourself away for a time.

- I cannot, James,
Georgie's everything to me.

It seems as she's still around.

Just out for a ride somewhere.

It feels if I was deserting her.

- Well, no need to go
back to an empty house.

You can stay here tonight.

- I have to go back sometime,

it may as well be tonight,

but thanks, James,
I appreciate it.

- It's the least I could do.

I was always very fond of the
two of you together, you know.

You made her happy.

Excuse me a moment.

- Henry...

I'm so sorry.

- Hello, Wetherton Police.

This is James Marsham, Harlesden
Hall, Master of Hounds.

I'd like to speak to
Assistant Chief Constable,

Rebecca Fenning, please,
she knows who I am.

- Mr. Marsham received
this letter today.

- Wetherton postmark,
yesterday, 4:15 PM.

- Well, should that
mean anything?

- It could due, posted
during the day,

so maybe it's someone who
doesn't work regular hours.

Or someone who's so rich they
have nothing to do at all.

Maybe you'd read
the letter, Superintendent.

- It's been checked for
fingerprints, has it?

Yes, only
Mr. Marsham's.

- May I?

Of course.

- Thank you.

"Dear Master of The Hounds,

"Georgina Webster's
death is not a tragedy,

"but an indictment
of fox hunting.

"Now, people will see
the hunt for the barbaric

"anachronism that it is.

"Then her death will have
served some useful purpose.

"A friend."

Very eloquent.

- Do I take it from that
you share this opinion?

- Not quite, but it
doesn't surprise me.

It's not enough to start
an investigation

though, madam, is it?

- I think it needs checking out.

- We have been having
quite a lot of trouble

with the local hunt
saboteurs just recently.

- Ah, the Wetherton sabs.

- How quaint.

Terrorists, as far as I'm
concerned, Superintendent.

- Let's see about that,
shall we Mr. Marsham.

I believe in first things first.

- Meaning?

- We have to find out
if there's anything

odd about the death
before we start

looking for someone to blame.

- So, you'll investigate,
Superintendent,

and Mr. Marsham's promised
us all the help he can give.

- Nothing to it.

- Plenty of people hate hunting.

Riding's a dangerous game.

People are always falling
off and killing themselves.

Wouldn't go near a horse
if you begged me.

I would.

- Was it properly checked out?

Yes sir, we
have a transit van

full of police at the scene.

Expecting trouble from
the Wetherton sabs.

- Oh, and there wasn't
was there?

No.

Not that.

- I expect they saw all that
happened and called it off.

- Only because the
hunt called it off.

Somebody died in the
hunting field,

and everyone goes home.

- You know a lot about
all this, don't you, Ivor?

- Childhood memories.

When we were kids we used to
follow the hunt on boxing day.

It's not just about the kill.

- What is it about then?

- I'll tell you what
it's all about, Wieldy.

It's about a toughened up twerp

throwing his weight about
with the police force,

and an ACC whose knees go a
tremble at the sight of him.

- You jealous sir?

- Now then, Wieldy,
don't you even think it.

And if you wanna ask questions,

you take another look
at the accident scene.

Oh, and get DI Pascoe
out of bed,

and take him with ya'.

- Didn't know you were
a closet fox hunter.

- No? All them men in jumpers.

You alright, sir.

- Of course.

Bad pint last night, that's all.

- Oh.

Well, this looks like
a real waste of time.

Sir.

- What?

- Over here.

See down there?

It could have been a firework,

or a small charge of some kind.

Enough to scare a horse.

- What's that?

- Sir?

- Andy, it's Peter.

Time to get your shoes muddy.

- Aye!

I never grew old for this!

Remember this is ridiculous!

You look terrible, Peter.

- Thanks.

- What's so important I
couldn't be in The Black Bull?

- This.

Found in the hedge over there.

Right where the horses jumped.

- Some sort of timer.

Find anything else?

Not yet.

- No?

Someone stood here
late, haven't they?

Come on, Wieldy.

Someone was watching.

- Nervous too.

Right.

Get to it, you got yourself
an official investigation.

- A murder case?

- Definitely suspicious
circumstances.

She lived
in the village, right?

Yeah, with
her boyfriend.

Oh, what's he like?

- I don't understand.

Just when you're hoping
she might be at peace,

the thought of her bein'
dug up and examined.

- That's all quite discreet.

It could be done at
night if necessary.

- It knocks you sideways,
frankly.

I'm just glad her parents
aren't allowed to see it.

- Georgina.

You known her long?

- Yeah, two years.

Love at first sight.

It's absolutely conventional.

Lived together for 18 months,

we were to be married
in the spring.

She was everything to me.

- Her house is it?

- Yeah, I'm trying to
carry on as normal.

Maybe because that's
what she'd want,

and maybe because
a bit of routine

is the only thing that
stops me from goin' mad.

- What do you reckon
to these sabs?

- I dont know, what
should I think?

Whether they have
a point of view?

I'm not sure what you're
saying to me.

Someone wanted Georgina dead?

- That's what we're
trying to establish.

- Which one of these
is you then?

- Uh, first in, second,
eleven, I was second slip.

There.

Po' face they used to call me.

See what a serious chap I was?

- Chartham, good school?

Then what? Oxford?

- Cambridge, read history.

Lower second, I'm afraid,

I wasn't cut out to
be an academic.

- Nor was I.

- I much prefer business
in any case.

- You gonna ask everyone
questions?

No, I...

- Did anyone have a
grudge against Georgina?

- Everyone liked George,
always popular.

And since meeting Henry
she was even happier.

- Did you see the fall?

- No, she was at the
back of the field.

It's just bad luck.

She was a fine rider.

Why are you asking
these questions?

Routine inquiries.

Couldn't give us a cup
of tea, could ya'?

- Sorry.
- Not a problem.

You alright?

- Yes, I'm alright.

It's just I keep expecting
to see her again.

Spooky.

Of course, I'm alright.

- This place, the Equestrian
Center, do you run it?

- Yeah.

With Georgina.

After Henry, it was
her big love.

- Whose is this then?

Mr. Marsham's?

- No, he's at the stables
down the road.

- So, who owns this then?

- It's a trust.

People who love horses.

They leave us money
in their wills.

- Worth dying for?

- Do we really need this?

- I like quick answers.

- They're called exhumation
engineers.

A strange town.

I'd hate to tell
you not to come.

- Had to, James, I gave
'em permission.

What are they looking for?
- Anything odd.

They promised to rebury
her within 24 hours.

- Oi!

Oi! Stop!

Stop!

What the hell are you doing?

- Digging a hole.

- Robert.

They got the coroner's
permission.

They're just doing their job.

- Henry!

You should have stopped this.

- You're late, Peter,
they're finished.

- That was quick.

- They don't hang around.

Besides, their on overtime
to race this within the hour.

- Now then, you can
see the nature

of the accident here and here.

Facial damage where
she first fell.

That would knock
her unconscious.

Then she twisted and
the neck snapped.

- Nothing else?

- Scuffed hands, bruised ribs,

but I can't tell you
anything from the body

that would make you think
that it wasn't an accident.

- Marvelous, not worth A JCB.

- On the other hand,

I have been looking
over the other evidence,

the stuff that really
belongs with forensic.

- Well?

- Smell that.

Gun powder.

Taken from the charge
of a bullet, I'd say.

It might be a firework.

- Thought so.

And this?

- Oh, talk to ballistics.

That's a trigger device with
a few seconds delay timer.

Someone taps it off
when a horse knocks it.

Quite enough to make it rear.

You do realize there was no need

to dig up a church yard
to tell you that.

- Still, I suppose
every little helps.

- Come on, you.

- Thanks.

I'm not sure
what we've got.

- It's simple, Ivor.

The young woman forced to
her death off her horse.

Scotch marks in the
hedge must've been resin

or the powder would've
been washed away.

And the charred timer.

Well, no
one saw anything.

- There wouldn't of
been a lot to see.

Just one flash.

Enough to frighten the
horse and make it rear.

Anyway.

Don't give up just yet.

Get down to the village
and ask around.

- It is a murder case?
- Suspicious death.

Treat as murder till
proved otherwise.

Somebody made somethin'
happen that day.

One of the hunt,
one of the sabs.

Wieldy, you go and talk
to the hunting lot.

Anyone who was riding,
hunt fellows too.

- How was the fiance?

- Straight as a die.
- Stiff as a poker.

Or how about that woman
at the Equestrian Center?

- Amanda, saw nothing.

But Georgina seems to have
had a share in the center.

It's run by a trust.

- I got these antihunting
leaflets.

- Oh, lovely.

Peter and me will go
and talk to them.

- I thought you hated
hippies and students.

- I do, they're all
comedones and cannabis.

- Sounds alright to me.

- Wieldy.

Anyway, how'd you like
your sport in that day?

I used to shave with
one of those.

- Hello, policemen.

- It's funny how they can tell.

- When you've been
on a demo or two,

you learn a lot about
the police.

Are you a
saboteur or chief?

Or is there an officer
in charge?

- I think you want
Midge Cartwright.

He's in the office at the back.

Would you like some tea?

I think we have some
bubons left too.

- Nevermind.

- DI Pascoe, Superintendent
Dalziel with the CID.

Need a word.
- Be my guest.

- God.

You're far too skinny to play.

Who do you follow?

- Who do you think?

Castleford.

- Some olds passed it.

How are we then?

Busy?

- Hunting season is always busy.

Out with season two.

Fundraising, publicity,
lobbying.

We're gettin' there.

Alright, what?

Harlesden Hunt, the dead rider?

- The Master of the
Hunt and a letter.

He thinks you sent it.

- I didn't know he could read.

What did it say?

- That Georgina Webster's
death was a good thing.

- Hunting is about
enjoying death, isn't it?

- And naturally, as far
as you're concerned,

those folk are just bad
part of the British elite

that have kept us lads
down for centuries.

- I just think they're
a bunch of people

who like dressing up
in silly clothes

and chartin' about
the countryside,

blowing a horn and
shouting a lot.

I've got nothin' against that.

It's just that they kill
a fox at the end of it.

- That was you there
that day, wasn't it?

In the woods, watching.

How long does it take you
to chew a piece of gum?

There were four pieces.

You must have been
there some time.

- I watched the hunt,
that's right.

Saw the horse, but that was
after she had fallen off.

I didn't know she was dead.

Can't help you.

Something going on in
that hunt, isn't there?

- What? What do you
think is going on?

- I dont know, but Susie,

this is Superintendent Dalziel,

DI Pascoe--
- I know.

Come to warn us off
about the hunt.

Gain a few brownie points
with the local knobs.

- The girl who died,
someone wrote a letter

to Marsham about it.

- That was an accident.
- Was it?

That's what we're tryin'
to find out.

- Only you listen to Marsham.

And jump to the usual
conclusions,

that we must've arranged
it somehow?

Blame us?

- Susie.

Okay.

- Susie who?

- Susie Hobbs.

- I suppose you were in
the woods that day too.

- No, I wasn't.

- Right.

We'll be off.

But if either of you have
any ideas, give us a call.

Dalziel, Wetherton CID.

- Ah, none of them seem
quite the type to.

- Except, when with life,

as I've always said,
nobody's ever quite the type.

- You said it.

- Like you're not
the type to clean

a scum line off the bath.

Either iron them old
shirts or chuck 'em,

and wipe the butter off
the marmalade top.

- Living with you is like
living in a small fascist state.

- You're a hunt follower.
- Oi.

- So, what does a hunt follower
do exactly, Mr. Birdyce?

- What do you think?

Follows the hunt.

- Sorry.

Ask a silly question.

- So, how far off from the
action were you standing?

- About 100 yard.

Magnificent, like
a cavalry charge

when they sorted themselves out.

- You're a real fan, aren't you?

- Well, it's English.

He liked it.

The Iron Duke.

I sit here and have
a drop of Scotch

with him most evenings.

Brandy on the night
before the meet.

We have some real old chats.

Salamanca, Waterloo...

Horse flesh.

- Work on the estate?

- Not now, but this is
an estate cottage.

Grace and favor they call it.

- So, what goes on in the hunt?

- Well, naturally, there
are some things

you can never find out.

It's a tight world, you see.

Closed society, you might say.

- The meet on Saturday...

Anything unusual happen?

- I can't tell you much at all.

The VCR has gone up the toilet,

so I can't even watch the vid.

- You made a video of the hunt?

- Of course, every meet
for the last two years.

- Sometimes you're a
clever lad, Wieldy.

- Play that bit back.

Stop.

Back a bit.

There.

- That's it alright.

Flying off the frightened horse.

- Could serve a firecracker?

- No, bigger than that.

Forensics say the powder
came from a bullet.

This was a trigger device.

And where do we get
those things from?

If you don't know, find out.

Someone planted it in the
hedge just before the hunt.

- One of the sabs
from the woods.

- Might be.

What about the other end?

The place is managed
by a trust, isn't it?

Thing is...

Can we trust the trust?

Then there's the hunt.

- Bit of a close shop,
Birdyce says.

Everyone in that place is cagey.

They think the townies
are against them.

- You know what we need, Ivor?

Someone to go on the inside.

- Someone who likes
men in jumpers.

- Oh no.

No thanks.

Do you want me to
finish up Gypsy, Mr. Marsham?

- Yes, go on, Jenny.

Nice!

- Hello.

Fine morning.

- Not much wind.

Scent should be strong.

- Shirley Birdyce,
you telephoned.

I'm James Marsham,
Master of the Hunt.

- Ah, you were very good
to our new horse.

- Mr. Robert Darringer,
our huntsman.

- How do you do?

Anything you need.

Hey, why don't you ride with me?

Have a drink in the pub first?

- Why don't you go in, Robert.

Best to introduce Ms.
Benes to our halls.

- I'll see ya' later.

- You know, Robert's rather
like a horse I used to own.

He's alright, as long as
you keep him in check.

- Well, now, let me guess.

You run your own business,
you like chilled Chablis,

and your favorite holiday
is Tuscany in May.

- Two out of three is very good.

Fair skin.

Italian heat does not
treat it kindly.

- This is Gypsy.

Eight years old, SARDA Ireland.

Had him for three years.

Intelligent.

Likes to go out in front,
don't you, eh?

A bit of an individualist.

- He's lovely.

- Undercover? This
isn't your private army.

Did he see Novello?

- She's good.

In fact, she spent half
her childhood on a horse.

- How do I know you're
lying to me, Andy?

- We've given her a full story.

Set up a liaison point.

Visitors often go and
ride with another hunt.

They come for a few days,

stay at the local pub,
borrow a horse.

And since hunting's drinking
as much as it is riding,

it shouldn't be long before
someone becomes indiscreet.

- Alright, but don't
upset the locals,

Harlesden's a nice village.

- Pity it's not a
bunch of miners,

then we could've done
what we liked.

- Watch it, Superintendent.

I'm not asking you to
count out to the gentry,

I'm telling you to
go by the book.

You see, I know how you work.

- Ah, Superintendent!

Come for the warm wine and
cold sausage, have ya'?

- No, I haven't.

- Ah, come on, that's
tradition London fair there.

- I like my wine cold
and my meat warm.

- Nothin' to worry about.

It's only deer urine.

To smother the stink
of human beings.

- Hunts decide to use it to
put the hounds off their scent!

Come on you lot!

- I smell trouble.

- You sure it's not deer piddle?

- Hey.

- There he is!

Come on!

Come on!

On me, on me!

- Come on!

- Get from there!

Get out of the way!

Come on, go!

- This is not a good idea, Andy!

Superintendent, you're
interfering with a legitimate
hunt!

I'm warning you!

- Rid me of these bloody hounds

before someone important
gets hurt!

- Alright, let's just try to
calm it everyone, shall we?

- Come on!

Another scent!

- Go on!

- You'll regret this.

- Not this!

This is the last thing
I'll regret!

- You know him, don't you!

- Oh him? No.

- Give me a hand.

- He'll be alright.

Recover in the dark
for a day or two.

- Got it.

- What? The neighborhood
dry cleaners?

- Susie, she's been up
in court a few times.

- Huh, let me guess, drugs?

Pro-excess?

So, why did it take you so long?

- Because she's changed
her name.

- Okay, what?

- Marsham, The Master of
the Hounds is Susie's dad.

- Oh, there's a turnip.

Why didn't he tell us?

Why didn't she?

- Hunter and saboteur,
father and daughter.

He told us the subs
were behind it.

Maybe he wanted to get
his daughter into trouble.

Teach her a lesson for not
bein' Daddy's good girl.

- Not on a murder
charge, surely.

- Don't you believe it.

It's nothin' like family for
makin' people wanna kill.

- People get so venomous.

They eat their meat, they
accept factory farming,

but if you hunt a fox--
- Strange isn't it.

- Amanda.

- Wouldn't come in here
now, Superintendent.

- It's wonderful what some men

have in their trousers,
isn't it?

Second one
wasn't so lucky, eh?

- Finished with your
saboteur activity

for the time being, have you?

- Sorry, just happen to
be sittin' in the way.

- You wouldn't even try
to understand us.

- Me and a lot of other people,

like your daughter.

James.

- Let me go!

Have you ever seen a lamb after
it's been killed by a fox,

and it's stomach's ripped out?

But I don't suppose
you mind abattoirs

just as long as you
get your fast food.

Well, let me tell you,
thousands of jobs

will go if the hunt
goes, and dammit,

fox hunting is England!

- Not my bit of it, it's not!

- That's enough sir, let's go.

- What is your bit
of England, eh?

What's that, Hovis and Bisto
adverse I shouldn't wonder.

Oh, you are a smug man, Dalziel.

I'm sure you call
a spade a spade

after all you've hauled
yourself up through the ranks,

and now you have a fine
beer gut and a mobile phone,

and the rest of the
plots call you sir!

That's enough, James!

- Mr. Marsham, it's Dalziel!

I'll see you at the
station tomorrow!

With your hangover!

And you can bring Basil Blush

with you as well, if you like,

and I'll show you where
you can stuff it!

- He really doesn't mean it!

The assignment of the
hunt, too many whiskies.

He always goes too far.

- He meant it.

So did I.

Maybe you should remind
you're Mr. Marsham

he concealed an important
piece of information

from us when we started
this inquiry.

And what's that?

He was leading
us to his own daughter.

- Okay, so he was ashamed
of her, what she's doing,

he blames the sabs
for everything,

but he really believes
something happened to Georgina.

- Just wasn't a very
good idea, Mr. Marsham!

Puts the hunt in a bad light!

- Well, things have
changed in this country.

The hunts already in
a very bad light.

Perhaps you didn't notice.

Perhaps you were too busy
mooning over Georgina.

- Don't!--
- She's dead, man!

She was never yours
in the first place.

The nearest you got
to riding her

was to help her saddle up!

You're goin' too far!

- Go to hell!

- Say Derringer, where's
Mr. Marsham?

- I'm doin' the kennels.

Ah, damn!

I forgot me yard clothes.

You haven't got anything
I could borrow, have ya'?

- Try Mr. Marsham's, he
keeps 'em in his locker.

Can I go now?

- Yeah, you're alright,
Jenny, I'll lock up.

- Grubs up!

Reading again?

What's that?

- Never read it?

Siegfried Sassoon, Memoirs
of a Fox-Hunting Man.

I suppose what you'd
call a pastoral.

- What's that then?

- Bloody ol' rural England.

A thick society, then the
Great War blew it all apart.

- Still.

Some things never change.

How's that?

Rabbit stew.

Just like your mom made.

- Rabbit?

- What's wrong with rabbit?

- It's just...

Rosy had a rabbit.

Besides, I thought you
were the new champion

of animal rights.

- Don't be daft, I
still eat, don't I?

Now, come on.

Try this rump.

Tender as warm pussy, is that.

- Oh my lord.

- Superintendent!

My office!

One step too far, Andy!

A stupid and partisan
thing to do!

- Must of got carried
away, ma'am.

- You've made us
a laughing stock,

and ruined an expensive
investigation.

I should never have
listened to Marsham.

And I should certainly
never have listened to you!

- Even if I tell you now
I think Marsham is right?

- Andy, I don't care.

Murder?

You've proved nothing.

And now, you never will.

- Just trust me.

Another day, two.

- Trust you?

Why?

- Because I've still
got Novello undercover.

And I know there's
something going on.

- No.

No, that's it,
Superintendent, close it down.

I mean it, Andy.

- Right then.

Sorry, ma'am.

- I'm afraid she's
right of course.

- That's the last time I
cook for you Peter Pascoe.

- In any case, you were gonna
call it off for yourself.

It was all suspicion
and no real evidence.

- Who have we got
though? Marsham?

Derringer?

Susie?

It's time we found her again.

Oh, and that funny bloke
Wieldy talked to.

- Birdyce, the hunter follower.

- Yeah.

It's there all the time,

but we're missing it.

It's somethin' to do with
the sabs and the hunt.

Have you got anymore of that
trigger device from forensics?

- You're no longer
on the case, Andy.

- I can still ask questions,
can't I?

- Forensics say they're
easy to get ahold of.

So, you don't get
much help there.

- Dalziel.

Yeah.

Okay.

We'll be there in half an hour.

- Something's happened
at Harlesden Kennels.

- Hi!

Can I join you?

- Yeah.

Sit down.

- So...

How's Gypsy?

- Oh, you should
come and see her.

She's at the center.

Better get back there.

Will you pop by later, Henry?

- Yeah, sure.

- You have an interest
in the center too?

- Just like going there.

- Sorry to interrupt,
Mr. Crayford,

but there's a call from
the kennels for you.

There's been some
sort of accident.

- What sort of accident?

- Didn't say.

A policeman.

- Probably some of
the hounds out.

Expect James will
have sorted it.

Excuse me, I'm goin' up there.

- May I come with you?

- Yeah, can you give us a lift?

- Yeah.
- Okay.

God knows what could
have happened.

This whole damn thing's
been a nightmare.

It's almost as if Georgina's
death started somethin'

it hasn't finished yet.
- What's that mean?

- Not sure exactly.

You know the way?
- Yeah.

- Wieldy?
- Over here, sir.

The kennel yard.

Not a pretty sight.

We've called in the vet
to examine the dogs.

- Who's the girl?
- Name's Jenny.

A stable girl.

Funny thing, the clothing
and boots,

they belong to Marsham.

- How do you mean?

- Well, these are the
ones he usually

sees to the dogs every night.

Except last night
it was Derringer.

- I don't need that, thanks.

Jenny, isn't it?

- Yeah.

- Sorry, but we need to
ask you some questions.

Last night, Mr. Derringer
came to the yard

instead of Mr. Marsham?

- Yeah, he came without
his work clothes,

and asked to borrow
Mr. Marsham's.

- Anything odd about him?

- A bit drunk, it was hunt day,

and grumpy, but then
he usually is with me.

Only, I shouldn't say
that now, should I?

What time was this?

- Around eight.

He was still
here when you left?

- He told me that
he would lock up,

and then when I came
back this mornin'--

- Sorry, love, when
you got back...

The hounds were still in there,

and the gate was bolted.

- Yeah.

- Think about last night.

Anyone else around?

- Not in the yard.

That funny bloke was watching

from across the field
through binoculars.

Funny bloke? Who?

- He lives in the village.

Daft name.

He hangs around the stables.

- Birdyce?
- Yeah.

You get people like
him around a hunt.

The hunt people make fun of him.

Call him a loser.

- I want him, Wieldy.
- Yes, sir.

Thanks.

Just leaving?

- Yep.

Need some air.

Robert's death, it's dreadful.

Horrible.

- I know, that's
why I looked in.

- The hounds loved him.

Nothing can be the same.

Oh, hello.

Okay.

Could you ring back later?

- Bad news?

- No, no.

- Look, let me make you a
cup of coffee or something.

No.

Oh God.

- Something's wrong.

Is it money?

- No, it's alright.

Henry says it's alright.

He helps sometimes
with all this.

- Henry Crayford?

- Please...

Please would you go?

- Must be that deer
piddle, I reckon, not you.

Hey, there he is!

- Well, hey!

- That was wonderful,
Superintendent.

The forces of law challenging
the powers of evil.

You've done
wonders for our publicity.

- Yeah.

Or maybe you could help me.

You're a rugby man.

So, you know all about
behavioral impacts.

You told us there was somethin'
odd about Harlesden Hunt.

- Did I?

- Now, come on, lad.

You hang around hunts
all the time.

So, you must get
it on somethin'.

What the pecking order
is, who's in charge.

Which farmers back
it, who's against.

- It's true, but all
I can tell you

is there's something odd.

- Odd?

- Some tension there.

- Where's Susie Hobbs,
Mr. Cartwright?

- She baiting the badger
baiters in Holmsby.

- Why?

I just wondered if there's
any reason why

she didn't tell us that
James Marsham is her father.

- You'd have to ask her that.

Well, when
does she get back?

- Could be awhile.

She's workin' undercover.

We do a lot of that.

Like you.

- Well, when she turns up,

can you tell her to get
in touch with DI Pascoe?

- I will, and now,
Superintendent, thanks again.

Very touching, Andy.

- Aye, wasn't it.

Now, I want a discreet
watch port on this base,

and Susie pulled in as
soon as she turns up.

- Sorry?

- She's all we've got.

She's lied to us.

And she hates her dad.

If she's treated right,
she'll talk, trust me.

- I trusted you yesterday.

Why now?

- Try around the back, Bob.

Okay, Serg.

- Mr. Birdyce?

Backdoor open, was it?

Yes, Serg.

- Mr. Birdyce?

- It wasn't me.

I didn't do it.

- No.

But maybe we can talk
about this somewhere

more comfortable, yeah?

- Marsham's clothes.

- Aye.

Those are his boots.

Some people would say they
was too big for him anyway.

- There you are, Andy.

This is what it means to be
savaged by a pack of hounds.

You're lucky it didn't
happen to you the other day.

- What have you got?

- Blood and saliva everywhere.

Oh, something else.

Traces of fox scent on
the boots and jacket.

- That would explain
why the hounds

would make minced meat of
someone they knew and trusted.

- No, he was already dead.

Some had hit him on the
back of the head,

single blow with
something blunt.

- So, the murderer
was after Marsham?

- Maybe, first murder
was pure chance,

second one was clever.

But ends up killing
up the wrong victim.

It looks like we're after
a smart bunglar, Peter.

- Or someone who likes
playing the odds.

Motive?

- Someone who wants
to destroy the hunt.

- Oh, a sab you mean.

- Yeah, or something
more personal.

Money, revenge.

- Pascoe.

Okay, thanks.

They've spotted Susie
back at the Sub HQ.

I'll get over there.
- Alright.

- Now, come on, Mr. Birdyce.

- I know nothin' about it.

Really, sir.

No one's accusing you.

But you were near the stables.

And you could be the last person

to have seen him alive.

- I go there a lot.

I just like being near.

What do you
like being near?

- Them.

Which them?

- The hunt, Mr. Wield.

The horses, the people,
the hounds, the master.

Not like the rest
of us, are they?

They're history.

We're just the non-entities.

- Alright.

You like to look.

Why cycle away when the
stable girl saw you?

- Well, I thought she
might complain.

Might get me in trouble
with the powers that be.

- And hiding in the
cupboard in your bedroom?

Didn't you think that
might get you in trouble?

- Well, I was scared, see?

That's the difference.

Them, they don't get scared.

They say this country's
classless, right?

But it's not, there's
still people of quality.

People in their right places.

- All this respect
you feel for them,

do you really think they
feel it for you?

- But, that's not the
point sir, is it?

- Do you know what they
say about hunt followers?

They say you always get nerds
and oddballs with the hunt.

Losers.

People who can't get a life.

- I don't think so, sir.

- Right, Mr. Birdyce,
I ought to tell you

we found these in
your garden shed.

Now, they've been opened.

It's the same powder
we found in the hedge

where Ms. Webster died.

When someone attempted
to scare her horse.

- Can I go to the toilet?

- Thanks.

- Here you go.

- Ms. Marsham.
- Yeah.

We need
to talk to you.

- Well, I'm not called
Ms. Marsham,

and I really don't have
anything to say.

- Right then, it's your choice.

It's either the cafe
around the corner,

or Wetherton Nick.

- Take the cafe.

- Alright.

I didn't lie to you, you know.

You just never asked.

Anyway, he never really
was my father.

Never really mattered.

What did you want?

- You do know I'm
investigating two murders.

Georgina Webster and
now Robert Derringer.

- The huntsman?

I suppose you heard
he was killed last night.

- Only just, I wasn't here.

- Where then?

- I was trying to stop
some big stupid men

with sticks and dogs
from killing badgers.

- Where was that?

- Ten Penny Woods,
past the husk.

- Anyone with you?

- Mike, a friend.
- A boyfriend?

- Oh, I see.

You want to know whether
other men find me attractive.

- Other men?

- Well detectives don't
usually question

their suspects in
cafes, do they?

- Who says your a suspect?

- Aren't I?

- Yes, you are.

So, I need some answers.

Just when did you get back?

- Early this morning around six.

I had a long bath.

On my own, so there's no alibi.

Sorry, copper.

I think it's
time we back down a bit.

- No!

If we suspend all our
activities now, they've won!

- Susie, there is some
very weird stuff

going on around that hunt.

You heard about what
happened to Derringer.

I don't want any of
our people hurt.

- Protests never got anywhere
by backing down, Midge!

- Protests, Susie, not
reckless risk taking!

- It's weak.

What you're saying is weak!

- There are other hunts!

There's the badger baiting!

We're not short of activities!

I'm just saying lay
off the hunt.

- Yeah, but we were gettin'
somewhere with Harlesden!

It was kneelin' them,
gettin' attention!

- For all I know,
one of our people

is involved in this death,
it's possible.

For all I know, you
were involved.

Were you?

I have to know!

Did you have anything
to do with his death?

- My question exactly.

Sorry, Ms. Marsham,
I know you talked

to my colleague earlier,

but I would like a word
at the station.

Sir.

- I get it.

Soft cop and hard cop.

- You're very sharp.
- I hope so.

- This man that was slaughtered
to death last night,

I think a lot of that was
meant for your father.

- I'm sorry.

I don't give a toss
about those people dying.

Not even if it had
been my father.

- No?

Fair enough.

- I didn't kill him.

I didn't do it.

We didn't do it.

None of it had anything
to do with us.

You don't believe me.

- And why would I?

- Well, I may hate my father,

but not enough to kill anyone
just to ruin his vile hunt.

- What happened?

What?

- To you and your dad.

- Little Susie Marsham, lucky
girl, privileged background.

Daddy's a bit remote,
Mommy's off playing bridge.

A succession of selfish nannies.

And they all have to do
exactly what you want

because you're the
lord of the manor,

the little rich kid.

And you can get 'em sacked,

and get what you want.

Temper tantrums, a spoiled
little brat, that was me.

Smash it all.

It makes you feel real.

- And when you've
smashed it all?

- Smash it some more.

- Hat's off.

- What was all that?

- Come on, Peter, time
for you to think.

- Feisty lady, Susie.

I like that.

She's got a bit of
the Ellie in her.

You should see her after.

- Why'd you let her
go like that?

Surely, it's gotta be the sabs.

- Couldn't keep her.

Not without more to go on.

Besides, I don't rectify it.

But I did get her to
write the name down

of a friend she spent
the night with.

Give that to the one
who does handwriting.

- Graphologist, Andy.

- Yeah, and get him
to compare it

with the signature in
the letter to Marsham.

They look different to me,

but I do like things checked.

- I told you this
investigation was closed down.

- Yeah, only at the
moment you took me off,

there was another murder.

- Hmm, I heard.

Found the killer?

Seem to have plenty of suspects.

- That?

Oh...

That's just Peter's
passage wreck.

See, Birdyce there,
he's just a sad nutter.

Doubtedly a killer.

Susie's doubtful.

I'll get Peter to
talk to her again.

In fact, Peter was just
leaving, weren't you, Peter?

Better get yourself
something to eat.

- I hope you're doing
justice to James Marsham.

- Never fear, ma'am.
- Hmm.

- So, it's one or the other.

The hunt followers or the sabs.

- Yeah...

I was thinkin', ma'am, I
usually work these things out

better in the Black Bull.

- Do you?

Well, why not?

Mines a vodka and tonic.

- It's terrible!

- I'm truly sorry, James.

- I know these hounds,
every one of them.

I saw them born, I
looked after them.

- We could go to court.

They won't necessarily
have them put down.

- I think they will,
Henry, I think they will.

Besides, who'd want
them after this?

Would you?

Things fall apart.

The center cannot hold.

- We'll get another pack.

- No, I don't think so.

I think this is the
end of something.

The end of an era,
a way of life.

And I pity it.

And I fear what comes after.

- Have they told us yet?

What happened to Robert?

- No, but I'm sure the police

will get to the bottom of it.

- Are you? Are you sure?

That's alright then!
- Go easy, Amanda!

Go easy
yourself, Henry.

- Come on.

We've all had a ghastly day.

- It's all the fault
of the sabs.

- Is it?

If Georgina and Robert's
death are connected

it may not be them at all.

- Meaning what?

Meaning someone in the hunt.

Someone connected to it.

- Ah, that's ridiculous, James,

we all know each other
like a family.

- Well, families are
strange things, aren't they?

- Could it be something
to do with money?

- Why are you always
asking about money?

All those questions you
were asking at the center.

Questions?

- Yeah, she's always
asking them.

Where do you come from, Shirley?

- Please.

I'm not suggesting
it's anyone here.

Let's not turn on each
other like this.

- James, you do realize
you're a possible victim.

- Really?

Look, if you'll excuse me,

there are things I should
be getting on with.

Would you care to join me
for an early ride tomorrow?

- Why not?

Good.

Susie, we must talk.

- No thanks.

- I need to know something.
- Oh, do you?

Need to know something?

- Can I come in?

No.

- Please.

- Yes.

I never wanted to see you
again after mother died.

Susie, you
don't understand.

- No, I don't.

What?

Tell me what.

- I need to know if you're
connected in any way.

To the deaths.

Georgina and Robert.

- Why would I?

- Georgina replaced you.

It was always me who
looked after those hounds.

- So, what do you think?

- I don't think you are.

- This is about the
hunt, isn't it?

It's always about the hunt.

That's you, isn't it?

The Master of Hounds.

- Why do you hate me so much?

- Because I was there!

And I never got it
out of my head.

- For God's sake it
was so long ago.

- Seems like yesterday to me.

Always will.

- Good Lord, a book?

- Doesn't have much
of a story to it.

- Ah, it's just a life.

An autobiography.

- I thought he was German,
this Siegfried.

But only he's English.

- Hmm, landed gentry.

- The only ones who had
time to write their memoirs.

Servants had to be
polite and loyal,

or they're out on their ears.

Servants and masters,
that was the way.

Except the servants
knew everything.

- I suppose.

- Like that Birdyce.

You know, we ought to
get him talkin' again,

now he's a bit calmer.

Get Wieldy to do it.

Oh, and it's an important
day tomorrow...

Dustbin day.

Don't forget, will ya'?

- No!

Yes, sir,
in the village sir.

Thank you.

- You just saw the
smoke and went in.

- That's right, sir.

And what were you doin' there?

- Out on the bike
and heard a bang.

When I got there first
thing I thought was,

"Let it burn."
- But you didn't?

- Mr. Marsham was in there.

Nothin' had been right
for him lately.

I thought, "Poor beggar,
he's lost everything too."

The hunts all finished.

What's the bloomin' point?

Thank
you, Mr. Birdyce.

- So, he's alive?

Thank God for that.

- He'll live.

- Oh, God.

It's all finished, isn't it?

The hunt and everything.

- Where were you this
morning, Mr. Crayford?

- At the Equestrian Center.

Anyone else about?

- Yeah, Amanda.

- Who'd know James was
goin' to the stables?

- All the people that were
at Jame's place yesterday.

- Maybe you could write
their names down.

- Yeah, okay.

This school of yours,
Chartham...

Do you remember the motto?

- "Non nobis solum, not
for ourselves alone."

- Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man.

You know about the book, this?

- It's a long time
since I read it.

- Interesting bit.

The death of the servant, Dixon,

he does all the hard work,

gets killed in the churches...

And only ends up with
a couple of sentences.

Not fair somehow.

- No, I suppose not.

- That was them, wasn't it?

Servants and masters.

It's a very good book.

- Sorry, I don't remember.

Here you go.

- Thank you.

We'll be in touch.

What was
all that about?

- Nothing much.

How's Novello getting on?

Nobody blown her cover?

- She's worried.

- Keep her at it.

I think she's getting
closer than she knows.

Oh, and here's another
bit of work

for the chiropodist.

- You don't think it--

- Go on, take it to Wetherton.

And after you've done that,

drop by and see how Marsham's
gettin' on.

- What are you gonna do?
- Me?

I'm goin' for a bit of
a drive of the country.

- It's what they all
want of course.

The end of the hunt.

The hounds all slaughtered,

and just enough scandal
to finish us.

- It can start again, can't it?

These days?

No, it won't.

Excuse me, would you,
I've got a call to make.

No answer.

- Henry.

You're having an affair
with Henry, aren't you?

- I dont know what you're
talking about.

He said he'd take me with him.

He won't though.

I know that now.

He said after Georgie died

that everything would
be different.

- But it wasn't?

- No.

- The Equestrian Center...

Is that what it's all about?

- You always ask questions.

- Something dangerous
is goin' on.

- Henry was messing
with the accounting.

For us, he said, so
we could go away.

But now, I realize, he was
just fooling both of us.

Georgie and me.

Look, I shouldn't talk to you,

he doesn't Like it.

When he found out you had
been asking about money...

- He asked you about me?

- He scares me sometimes.

- Have you arranged to meet him?

- What's it to do with you?

You said
you were anxious.

- Alright, yeah.

At the Equestrian
Center tonight.

He said it was something
very important.

- What time?

- A couple of hours.

- How is he?

- Serious.

I didn't expect to see you here.

- I didn't expect to come.

Henry Crayford,
do you remember him?

- Oh, yes, I remember Crayford.

The quiet boy.

Not outstanding academically.

Ah...

Now, there he is.

Chorister.

A very useful slow spin bowler.

- Left arm over, wasn't it?
- Yes, that's it, a lefty.

- What about his family?

- His mother was Welsh,
industrial money,

I seem to remember.

Father, cousin of the
Earl of Lancaster,

lots of acres of acres up
in the north somewhere.

Strong rider in the hunt.

And next to horses,
they loved boats.

Ah, it's tragic really.

- What was?

- Oh, that's how they
died, of course.

Family holiday, sailing to
Cyprus or something like that.

Sudden Mediterranean storm,

and onto the rocks.

Tragic.

Chaplain played for
those in peril

at the memorial service.

- They're all dead,
Henry's dead.

- Of course, didn't you know?

- I do now.

Thank you. Mr. Pembroke.

- Oh, Superintendent, you've
forgotten your photograph.

Oh, damn! Sorry, so
clumsy, old me.

Fathers and sons.

Mr. John Hewitt.

Funeral service at
Wetherton Perish Church.

- If this is about an alibi,

I told you where I was
this mornin', with Midge.

Your father
nearly died, Susie.

- Yeah, my father.

I'll tell you a story
about a little girl

who saw something she
didn't forget, alright.

The hunt.

A hunt follower come
out of the woods.

I remember his little
boy was there,

I smiled to him and waved.

Then the horses came chargin'.

And knocked his dad flyin'.

Cracked his head.

He died later in the hospital...

And they didn't even
stop the hunt.

And guess who the Master
of Hounds was.

Daddy.

It was only me who stopped.

Oh...

And the little boy.

- Did you know the man?

- John...

Hewitt.

His son was called Martin.

I think his widow moved away
from the village after that.

Took Martin with her.

- Excuse me.

Peter, it's
me, listen carefully.

Henry Crayford, alright.
- Right.

- He's not who he says he is.

His real name's Hewitt.

Tell Novello--

She's gone where?

You get over there quick!

I'm on me way!

Amanda!

You!

Where's Amanda?

- Still at Stag and Hounds.

I thought she should
stay there tonight.

- Why? What are you doin' here?

Do you think I would
harm Amanda?

- You might.

- That jumped up little cow.

Why would I bother?

- Because she might
tell the police.

About your attempt to defraud
the Equestrian Center.

- This was never about money.

Or Amanda for that matter.

But you know that, don't ya'?

Whoever you are.

See, I soon realized you
weren't who you said you were.

When you reinvent yourself
it's not easy.

It takes time and
infinite patience.

Is that what
you've done Henry?

Reinvented yourself?

Sir.

- Sorry to muscle in on
your territory, Ivor.

But Henry here is not
who he appears to be.

Got it all off pat.

Your old name's Martin,
isn't it?

- Of course, you're a
police, aren't ya'?

Very clever.

- You killed Georgina.

You killed Derringer.

And you're trying
to kill Marsham.

But it didn't matter
in the end, did it?

It was the hunt you
were killing off.

- All tarred with
the same brush.

Except Georgina.

I didn't know it would
be Georgina.

I just put the gunpowder
in the hedge

waiting for it to go off.

That's a gamble.

Life's a gamble, isn't it?

You alright?

He's gone, come on!

- It's alright!

It's over!

- He lied to me.

He shouldn't have lied to me.

- I wonder whether Susie
will make her peace

with her father now?

- He's suffered as much
as she has now.

The balance of suffering.

That's what this is all about.

Look at that.

Poor beggar didn't even
get a decent headstone.

- Servants and masters.

Fathers and sons.

Aye.

So, which are you?

The servant or the master?

Good question, Peter.

What do you think?

- I think you think
you're the servant

who's become the master,

and I'm your servant, Andy.

You give the orders,
I do the job.

- Right, then you can start
by doin' the washin' up.

That's it, Reynard.

You come into town, laddie.

You'll be a lot safer here.