All language subtitles for Endeavour.S01E04.1080p.BluRay.x264-PRESENT-HI

PROFESSOR:
Every story has a beginning.

Before the gates of Troy.

In a certain house at Ithaca.

Upon the road to Thebes.

But no matter where it starts,
every story has its hero.

As often as not,

a young man on a journey
from innocence to experience.

Morse.

(gunshots)

Ah, Alistair.

Might I have a moment?

If it's about
this evening, Master,

I believe I've made
my views clear.

Alistair, I do understand...

♪ I know you're angry, baby ♪

♪ But I'm gonna
make it up to you ♪

♪ Gonna make it up to you soon ♪

♪ I know you're angry, baby ♪

♪ But I'm gonna make it up
to you... ♪

Hey!

♪ I won't dance for anyone,
but I will dance for you ♪

♪ I won't sing for anything,
but I will sing for you 4“

♪ I won 't kill for anyone,
but I would kill for you... ♪

(engine revving)

♪ Tell me where to lie,
tell me what to say 4“

♪ Tell me what to do,
it is all for you 4“

♪ You can break my bones ♪

♪ You're the song I sing
between clenched teeth 3

♪ I wouldn't dance for anyone,
but I'd dance for you... ♪

Gentlemen.

Right...

Booth Hill.

♪ I wouldn't die for anyone,
but I would die for you... ♪

(man grunting)

(yelling in pain)

♪ I wouldn't die for anyone ♪

♪ But I would die,
I would die for you... 4“

(sighs)

(phone ringing)

Morse.

VVHnesses?

Woman over the way
heard a squeal of brakes.

Time she got to the window,
the car was gone.

When was this?

About half an hour since.

Just before 8:00.

Nothing they could do.

Already gone by the time
they got here.

No identification.

Have to wait on next of kin
coming forward, I suppose.

How was he found?

Eh?

The body.

Where was it?

STRANGE:
Oh, up against the curb there.

That's what's done for him,
according to the ambulance boys.

Head's a terrible mess.

What about debris?

Something like this,

you'd expect there to be glass

from the windscreen
or headlamps.

Not always.

Depends where it's caught him,

how fast they were going.

Comes to traffic accidents,

rhyme and reason are
out the window, matey.

(tower bells ringing)

CONDUCTOR:
All aboard!

Morse.

Morning, sir.

Buses have called a strike.

I said we'd drop her
at the bank.

Come on, Joan, don't dawdle.

Morning.

JOAN: Haven't seen
you about for a while.

Uh, no.

No, I've been on General Duties.

Where's Peter, then,
this morning?

Sgt. Jakes?

He's got court.

Don't give much away, do you?

Don't think I'm meant to, am I?

Work, you know.

Oh, I know.

Is he still with that Sandra?

Who? Jakes?

Never mind.

All out of Navy Cut,
would you believe?

Had to make do with Ribbon.

"Never mind" what?

Work.

If you must know,
I was asking about work.

Only he's the same as you.

Like trying to get blood
out of a stone.

Quite right.

Any case, I wouldn't
have thought

you'd time to sit gassing.

You can walk from here,
can't you?

Save us going round the one-way.

Right, well...

Thanks for half a lift.

Uh-uh, nicely, please,
if you want picking up.

Morse.

Anything in last night?

Atruck containing £10,000
worth of cigarettes

was stolen from outside
a transport stop

on the Botley Road last night.

We've been asked to be
on the lookout.

Right, sir.

Anything else?

Oh, actually,
there was one other thing.

Morse's results came back
from the range.

Sergeant's exams
coming up, hasn't he?

Yes, sir.

Next week.

Won't count towards
his mark, of course,

but the chief constable sets
great store by such things.

MAX: No one come
forward to claim him?

ENDEAVOUR:
Not yet.

I've bagged
his personal effects,

but I wouldn't get
your hopes up.

Just the usual:

specs, smoker's bits
and bobs, keys, wallet.

Somebody saw the accident,
did they?

Heard. Why?

Case like this,
I'd normally expect to find

some injury to the lower limbs.

Point of impact

where the body's come
into contact with the vehicle.

Outside of the head injury,
there's not a mark on him.

Could've been
a glancing blow, I suppose.

Tossed him into the air,

and the curb's done the rest.

(phone ringing)

Uniform brought it in
about an hour ago.

In the next street
to that hit and run.

Open.

Anything to say
it's the victim's?

Just essays, unmarked,
on the Trachiniae.

It's a tragedy by Sophocles.

I took it the owner of the case
must be a Greats don,

so I rang around the colleges.

The names on the essays
match certain undergrads

at Badeley College

being tutored by a Professor
Coke Norris.

Might be his bag, doesn't mean
to say he's the victim.

There's no answer
on his home number

and according to the porter,

he hasn't turned in for work
this morning.

What about the driver?

The car that hit him
must have been damaged.

Uniform are having a word
with the local garages,

but without a description
of the vehicle involved?

All right, press on.

Oh, the results came through
from the range.

Where did you learn
to shoot like that?

Army, I suppose.

Thought you were in Signals.

Mr. Bright's very keen,
in any event.

Asked after your
sergeants' exam next week.

I told him you were on top
of your Fittons.

You are, aren't you?

I think so.

Think? You'd better be.

I don't want you treading water

on General Duties
another 12 months.

Morning, sir.

You're on this hit-and-run,
aren't you?

Woman at the front desk,

come in to report
her husband missing.

A Mrs. Coke Norris.

(phone ringing)

MRS. NORRIS: He was supposed
to meet me, you see.

Where was this?

The station.

I've been visiting our daughter.

Anyway, Iwaited
and waited, but...

Mrs. Coke Norris...

He's always so very good
like that.

If he says he's going
to be somewhere,

then he invariably is.

Mrs. Coke Norris,

I'm afraid to say I may have
some very bad news for you.

Last night, I was called
to attend a road accident.

We'll need you to make
a formal identification, but...

I have strong reason to believe

that the man who lost his life
last night was your husband.

(gasps)I

(sobbing)

Is there someone
that we can notify?

Your daughter, perhaps?

(crying)

BOY:
Six, five, four,

three, two, one!

Ready or not, here I come!

(tower bells ringing)

FROBISHER: Alistair was
a much-valued colleague,

held in great affection
by all who knew him.

Mrs. Coke Norris
gave me to understand

that he was due to attend a
meeting here yesterday evening.

Yes. Yes, indeed.

You weren't concerned
when he didn't arrive?

No.

I mean, it was just...

College business.

General housekeeping.

How's she taken it?

As well as to be expected.

Were they married long,
do you know?

20 years or so.

Happily?

Oh, uh...

Yes, yes.

There was the daughter,
of course.

Audrey.

I imagine that kind of thing

must put a strain
on any marriage.

There was an accident.

Five, six years ago.

Left her a cabbage.

She's in a private hospital
or clinic in London.

They keep a flat there,
I believe, so Millie can visit.

I'd like to take a look

at Professor
Coke Norris's rooms.

His rooms?

Unless you've any objection.

No, no, of course not.

I just can't see what bearing
his rooms might have

on a traffic accident.

Just a question
of us being thorough

in our inquiries, Master.

Something I can do for you?

DC Morse, City Police.

Oh.

How do you do?

Ian Kern.

I'm a friend of Alistair's.

I was.

I lent him an old Baedeker's
last year.

Southern Italy.

It had some sentimental value.

I didn't want it getting...

Well, don't let me stop you.

Thank you.

This is just awful.

Awfu I!

Is there any news
as to the driver?

Not yet, I'm afraid.

What was he like?

Prickly.

Generous.

Kind.

Mostly kind.

I shall miss him.

What about Mrs. Coke Norris?

What do you make to her?

Millicent likes a project.

Two years ago,
we had starving Africans.

Last year, it was the plight
of the Red Indian.

And this?

You're looking at it,
God help me.

She thinks I need mothering.

No outlet
for the maternal instinct.

Every other day,
it's cakes or casseroles.

Some might pay good money
to be cosseted like that.

Would they, though?

I don't doubt she means well,

but if it hadn't been
for Alistair,

I'd have told her
where to get off.

Did he have any enemies
that you can think of?

Enemies?

Good heavens, no.

No, not enemies,
I wouldn't have said.

What, then?

AI had been a Conchie.

In the last show.

I mean, he did his bit.

On the ambulances.

But some people still held it
against him.

Eureka!

Well, unless there was
anything else,

I'll leave you to your...

(door closes)

DOROTHEA:
Booth Hill?

What makes you ask?

It's come up in connection
with a case.

We've been reporting on it
for about the last 18 months.

With the Oxpens being cleared,

the Council needs
new housing stock.

Thanks, Bradley.

The Housing Department's
been in negotiations

with Badeley College
to acquire Booth Hill.

Badeley?

They own the land.

Not been very popular with
the Rural England Brigade,

but most objections have been
dealt with one way or another.

A couple of tenant farmers
have been encouraged to move on.

Strong-arm stuff?

Nothing anyone's prepared
to talk about.

Any idea where a Professor
Coke Norris might fit into this?

None, why?

Who is he?

He was a Classics don
at Badeley.

Killed in a hit-and-run
last night.

He'd been reading your article
on Booth Hill.

MAN: One or two new faces
hanging about recently.

London types.

Only you didn't
get it off me, right?

You hear anything more on that,
you let me know, all right?

Keep the change.

Morse.

Good man, Albert.

Reliable.

Ten-bob a time, I expect he is.

Any copper's only as good as the
intelligence he's got coming in.

What did they teach you
at Carshall?

I don't remember anything
in Judges' Rules

about paying for information.

Got something new to think
about, then, haven't you?

Marry-.

How's show business?

No business like it,
Mr. Thursday.

Can I get you a drink?

We're not stopping,
thanks all the same.

We just dropped by
for a quick hello with Charlie

if he's about.

Charlie?

No, he's...

Oh, we've come all this way.

What time's he due, then?

See, I heard he'd decided
to call time

on the nightclub business.

Word is somebody
gave him "what for."

Have I got that right?

He's, uh, signed the place
over to me.

I'm running it now.

THURSDAY:
You're pulling my leg.

I wouldn't leave you
to run a whelk-stall.

Twenny Guards, would you, Sasha.

Straight.

As God's my judge.

Yeah, but he's not,
though, is he?

So what do you know
about this lorry load of snout

knocked off last night?

Is there something you want?

MORRY: I don't know
nothing about that.

THURSDAY:
Don't kid a kidder, Morry.

You're a front man.

Near-beer, bluejokes,
and totting up the night's take.

That's your forte.

So who's in the
big chair now, eh?

Hello, Fred.

Vic.

Long time.

Ain't itjust.

Keeping well?
Mustn't grumble.

Family?

What's this, then?

Things got a bit too lively
for you Mile End?

Nah.

Retired, ain't I?

All got it coming, Fred.

Even you.

This place'll see me out.

(footsteps approaching)

Well, look what the dog
brought in.

You remember my Vince?

Fred Thursday, look.

Blimey, you still at it?

Thought they'd put you
out to grass after Carter.

That's the word in town, anyway.

Fred Thursday:

Went milky and run off,
crying to the sticks.

Who's this, then?

THURSDAY:
Never you mind who he is.

VIC:
Vince...

Kids, Fred.

All piss and vinegar.

What can you do?

Same ourselves, once.

Here's how it is.

You round up your boys
and get off my patch

and we'll leave it at that.

Might put the fear of God
into the locals,

but this is me.

First and final.

Workhouse rules, Fred.

Last man standing.

So be it.

You think you've found
somewhere decent,

someplace the rot
hasn't got to yet,

but it creeps in.

They want to come
that game here?

Over my dead body.

Who's Carter?

You stay away from this place
and Vic Kasper, all right?

Just stick to that hit-and-run

and boning up
for your sergeants'.

Leave this to me, understood?

Here he is, sir.

Ah, Morse.

Your sister...
Joyce, is it?

Called while you were out.

It's your father.

He's all right,
just taken poorly.

His heart, she said.

You're to telephone home.

Thank you, sir.

And of course,

if you need a couple of days
compassionate leave.

I'm sure it won't come to that.

Hope for the best.

That's the ticket.

Well.

Sir.

He suffers with angina.

Has done for years.

I'm sure they're making
more of it than there is.

Well, you won't know until
you talk to them, will you?

If you're needed, you must go.

Sgt. Jakes back and forth
to court,

I don't want to leave you a man
down in the middle of all this.

You let me worry about that.

Actually, sir, there is someone
I suppose you could look to.

STRANGE:
I won't forget this.

It's only acting
detective constable.

It's not permanent.

Little acorns, matey.

See if you can get anywhere
with this car.

Keep checking the garages.

Righto.

Well, I hope your
old man's, uh...

Well, you know.

♪♪

(knocking)

Joyce said she'd telephoned.

Hello, Gwen.

I suppose you'd better come in.

Your old room's full of lumber.

I'll be all right on the couch.

I've aired the bed in the spare.

I won't have it said
we couldn't put you up.

Hello, stranger.

Hello, Joycie.

You've lost weight.

Are they not looking after you
down there?

Oh, you know.

How is he?

Sis?

There was no need for you
to come up.

I told Joyce not to fuss.

How do you feel?

Just a bad turn.

I'm right now.

Can I get you anything?

There's a three-year-old,

"Rows by Woof,"

running in the 2:15
at Catterick.

You could put five-bob on
for us.

I'd phone it through,
only she won't let me.

(sighs)

Penny for them.

Dad?

Work.

What work?

Mickey Carter, if you must know.

Don't dwell, Fred.

No.

Thought you'd taken the pledge.

I fell amongst thieves.

Goes with the job, Isuppose.

Probably.

Cheers.

Why did you go back?

To Oxford.

A policeman goes
where he's sent.

When I told Pop, hejust said,
“Proverbs 26:11.“

(sighs)

I thought maybe...

Well...

I've many faults, God knows,

but I try to draw the line
at masochism.

Besides, traditionally,
it's the killer

that returns to the scene
of the crime, not the...

whatever I was.

(birds squawking)

I'll telephone.

No need.

Not on my account.

Long distance.

Police still?

Yes.

Never liked the police.

Well, I'd better be off.

You're not, you know.

A disappointment.

He's proud of you.

In his way.

It's just...

You remind him of your mother.

Will you let me know how he is?

If I need to come back.

Or...

Since when do we do that?

You looked like
you could do with it.

BRIGHT:
Who?

THURSDAY:
Vic Kasper, sir.

Retired, he says.

Taken over the Moonlight Rooms.

Gone legit.

Any truth in it?

Faces like Vic Kasper
don't retire, sir.

I spoke to a colleague
at the Yard.

He says Kasper's recently
become persona non

with Sid and Gerald Fletcher.

You think he's come here
looking for a soft touch.

More likely he's come here
to keep breathing.

(ballroom dance music playing)

What are you doing out here?

It's perishing.

Making plans.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

You happy?

Of course.

Really?

You like the house?

Yeah.

I want you to be happy.

You make me a king.

You and me, Cyn.

All the way.

(clattering)

(gasps jokingly)

Oh, you stupid...

♪ Duh-duh-duh... ♪

(laughing)

(phone ringing)

Oxford 38802.

Good afternoon, this is
Detective Constable Morse,

City Police.

Could you give me
your address, please?

The address?

What do you want
the address for?

I'm trying to trace someone
at this number

With the initials “J.V.“

(dial tone)

Operations Room?

Could you get me a reverse trace
on Oxford 38802?

STRANGE:
Hello, matey!

Wasn't expecting you back
so soon.

All, uh...?

Yep, fine.

I don't suppose you'd any luck
with the garages?

I did a ring around

of pretty much every garage
in the book, actually.

Got a list of all vehicles
booked in for body repair

since it happened.

Quite a long list
as it turns out,

but it paid dividends.

There was 3 Bentley bookedin

at a dealership
in Kidlington yesterday.

Cracked windscreen.

Owner Mr. Jolyon Frobisher.

The master at Badeley?

Piece of cake,
this detecting lark.

Don't know what you make
all that fuss about.

Dr. Frobisher?

Dorothea Frazil, Oxford Mail.

I wondered if,
as master of Badeley,

you'd any comment to make

in response to our recent
article on Booth Hill.

On the record,

obviously I'm very concerned
by such allegations.

And off the record,
Dr. Frobisher?

I think those who make

irresponsible
allegations in print

should take very great care.

MORRY:
I can't, Mr. Thursday.

You know that.

It's more than my life.

Fair enough, Morry.

We'd better get him back, then,
Sergeant Jakes.

It's not going to look very good
if Kasper sees us drop him off

outside the Moonlight Rooms,
sir.

Someone might take him
for a grass, you mean?

Think he's been running
his mouth off?

But I ain't!

Look, Vic came in as
a sleeping partner with Charlie

about two years ago.

That's all I know.

Charlie was happy with that?

You don't say no to Vic Kasper.

Go on, then.

You can get the bus back.

Oh, Millie.

Hello.

I thought the porter
must have it wrong.

The master insisted.

How are you?

Rather at sixes and sevens,
I'm afraid.

Trying to organize the funeral,

but I imagine I'm making
the most frightful hash of it.

Oh, Millie.

It really is too bad.

I can't bear to see you
like this.

I'm all right, really.

Nonsense.

You've looked after me
in so many ways.

All those wonderful meals
you've prepared.

So listen:

I'm going to come over
and help tidy Al's things.

His things?

His papers?

Essays?

Whatever else needs
taking care of.

If he was anything like me,

there may well be books from the
college library need returning.

So how's that sound?

Really?

Oh, that would be
most terribly kind.

Not at all.

Many hands, eh?

Two heads better than one.

ENDEAVOUR:
DC Morse, City Police.

I spoke to someone
on the telephone here

about an hour ago.

Would that have been you,
Miss...?

Vallens. Judy.

No, I've only been in
about 20 minutes.

Any idea why
Professor Coke Norris

might've come to have your
initials and telephone number

written in a matchbook,
Miss Vallens?

None.

I see him every
now and then at lectures,

but that's it.

You're a student
at which college?

I'm a Matildabeeste.

Lady Matilda's.

What about the matchbook?

Do you recognize that?

You sure about that?

Oh, those.

Uh, yes, I'm sorry.

That would be my flat-mate,
Georgina Bannard.

She gets them from work.

Where's that?

Some club off the Broad.

The Moonlight Rooms?

What does she do there?

Cigarette girl.

Is she at home?

I'd like to speak with her.

When I got back from college,
all her stuff was gone.

Have you roomed together long?

Eight or nine months.

Might she have a boyfriend
she's gone to stay with?

Nobody steady, I don't think.

What about family?

In the West Country somewhere.

You wouldn't happen to have
a photograph, by any chance?

No, why would I?

We're not close.

You seem very nervous,
Miss Vallens,

if you don't mind my saying so.

Is there something worrying you?

Besides coming home
to find that Gina's cleared out

and landed me with the rent,

then you showing up
20 minutes later?

Well, if she does happen
to get in touch,

could you ask her to call me?

She's not in any trouble.

I'd just like to speak with her.

Did your husband ever talk
about 3 Judy Vallens?

She's an undergrad
at Lady Matilda's.

No.

How about Georgina Bannard?

If you entertain any suspicion
of impropriety

between my husband and these
young women you mentioned,

I believe I can set
your mind at rest.

After Audrey's accident...

How to put it...

Alistair lost all interest in,
and indeed facility for,

physical intimacy.

Completely.

He used to ride
to hounds, you see.

When Audrey was 12,

he took her out
with the Alvescot Hunt.

Meant to be her blooding.

Only there was...

Alistair said that
a snipe broke cover

right in front of her mount
and she was thrown, and...

AI felt himself responsible.

He wasn't, of course.

But...

She's in some sort of clinic,
I understand.

In London.

She needs constant
specialist care.

Did your husband ever mention
Booth Hill, Mrs. Coke Norris?

Well, for the past year or so,
he'd talked of little else.

Really? Why?

What was his interest?

Booth Hill was originally owned
by Alistair's family.

They gifted it
to Badeley College

after the Great War

as a way of avoiding
death duties.

Land rich, cash poor.

So where did he stand
on this proposed development?

He felt it went
against the spirit

in which the gift
had been given.

Not that anyone
seemed to care very much.

Except for Ian, of course.

Ian?

Dr. Kern.

Everyone else was more concerned

with what they were going
to make out of it personally.

All the senior fellows stand
to gain a considerable windfall.

Including your husband.

Alistair wouldn't have taken it.

As a point of principle.

Not that I imagine
Jolyon Frobisher

will feel such an offer
need be made now.

The sale was formally approved,
I understand,

at a meeting the evening
Professor Coke Norris died.

That's rather more at stake

than the "General Housekeeping"
you led me to believe.

I said it was college business,
which it is.

Might Professor Coke Norris
have carried the day

if he'd spoken against?

He would not.

The land has been in college
ownership for nearly 50 years.

It's ours to dispose of
as we think best.

Why?

Is the college short of funds?

Management of the land

has been a constant drain
on resources.

The decision was as much about
what the college stood to save

by letting it go
as about what it might gain.

Your vehicle has been booked

in the garage with
a broken windscreen.

How did that happen?

I came out one morning,
and there it was.

Vandals, I suppose.

Or some drunken
undergraduate prank.

Or some of your late
tenant farmers

expressing displeasure
at being driven off their land?

Their land?

What are you,
some sort of socialist?

Booth Hill is our land,
for the moment.

How did you know about my car?

When investigating
a hit-and-run,

it's procedure to compile
a list of all vehicles

booked in for bodywork or
windscreen repairs post facto.

Post facto?

Indeed.

After the fact.

I know what it means.

Well, then, you'll have
no objection

to one of my colleagues
taking a look at your vehicle?

None.

Unfortunately, it's presently
on loan to my brother.

Where might I find your brother?

On the continent somewhere.

He's decided to drive down
to Monte

for a few weeks.

Of course, as soon as he
returns, I'll let you know.

I'll look forward to it.

Coke Norris was meant to speak
against the sale of Booth Hill

at a college debate,
only he was killed

by a hit-and-run driver
on the way in.

The ayes carried the day.

That's the Moonlight Rooms
motif, isn't it?

I'm hoping they may
shed some light

on the disappearance
of this Georgina Bannard.

I told you, I don't want you
getting involved with that lot.

Why?

Because Y's not a Zed.

Do you mean because of Carter?

Well, do you have any objection
to me going to the town hall?

I've a meeting booked
with Mark Carlisle,

the senior planning officer.

Talk to who you want.

You just keep away
from Vic Kasper.

Anyway, how'd you make out
at home?

Your father on the mend?

Seems to be.

What's that, then?

A lager beer, is it?

Double Diamond.

Works wonders.

The wonder is
anyone buys the stuff.

Pour me one while you're there.

Pour it yourself.

You'd pour him one.

Yeah, I would.

Has he said anything?

He thinks you're gonna
land him in it.

That copper was talking to Morry
about a lorry-load of smokes.

If he wanted to retire,

he should've bought a bungalow
and moved to Margate.

It's disgusting the way
he's carrying on.

He's earned it.
He's gone soft.

He's more of a man
than you'll ever be.

Thorpey on the phone, Vin.

Don't mess it up for him.

It's what he wants.

What about what I want?

What do you want, Vince?

(knock at door)

ENDEAVOUR: Badeley stands to make
quite a lot of money, I'd imagine.

MARK CARLISLE: The
recompense is proportionate,

but our overriding impulse
is one of social conscience.

Have you seen some
of the housing at the Oxpens?

Yes indeed.

Then you know.

The place is a midden.

People need somewhere
decent to live.

Hot water.

Indoor plumbing.

This new development
will be light, clean, airy.

You've seen the papers,
presumably.

The Mail?

The story about
the tenant farmers

being driven off the land.

I sincerely hope you're
not suggesting the council

would have anything to do
with such a thing.

Someone was very keen
to have them off the land.

If they're to be believed.

Money in the air.

They could just be
laying the groundwork

to bring a suit
at some point down the road.

For what?

Compensation?

Loss of earnings?

Who knows?

Simple, everyday country folk?

I wouldn't trust half of 'em
as far as I could spit.

The kids haven't seen it?

Think I'm stupid?

Who sent it?

Is that why you were about
Mickey Carter the other night?

I thought we'd left
all this behind.

Evening, officer.

What can I get you?

I'm looking
for a Georgina Bannard.

I believe she works here
as a cigarette girl.

Don't ring a bell.

They come and go.

Stick around and enjoy the show.

Anything he wants, on the house.

Ladies and gentlemen, would you
please put your hands together

and give a Moonlight Rooms
welcome to Miss Lila Pilgrim.

(fast pop music starts)

♪ Darling, don't you go,
darling, don't you go ♪

♪ Darling, don't you go
hit me with your blues ♪

♪ I need some rock and roll ♪

♪ I need some rock and roll,
I need some rock and roll ♪

♪ I need some rock and roll
in order to save my soul ♪

♪ Darling, don't be mean,
darling, don't be mean ♪

♪ If you stay with me,
let you be my king ♪

♪ I wanna be your queen ♪

♪ Darling, don't you go,
darling, don't you go ♪

♪ Darling, don't you go
leave me with your blues ♪

♪ I need some rock and roll! ♪

Hey!

What's your game?

Can't you see a girl's
getting changed?

I'm sorry.

Husk wanted to ask
'fi any of you know 3 gm

called Georgina Bannard.

Lost something?

“Artists only, “ can't you read?

No customers back here.

Oh, um...

Want me to tell you twice?

It's all right, Vince.

I've got it.

Do you want to come through?

I'm sorry, Miss.

Drink?

No, thank you, Miss...

Riley.

Cynthia.

Call me Cyn.

So where do you fit into
this set-up, Miss Riley?

Hostess.

I see.

(laughs lightly)

I doubt it.

Morry said you were
looking for someone.

That's right.

Georgina Bannard.

She works here
as a cigarette girl.

Says who?

Well, does she or doesn't she?

Not here, ducky.

Look, you seem
like a nice bloke,

but having coppers about
makes the clientele jumpy.

So whatever you're about,
please, just drop it.

Walk away.

Or what?

(sighs)

♪ Pushed to his face
and with the make-up placed ♪

♪ His smile so wide
he could sit there and hide ♪

♪ From the lights and the stage
as they fly tonight ♪

♪ Because he is the answer,
tangled ♪

♪ But there's nobody laughing
when he gets home ♪

♪ Yeah, you're really lonely
when the spotlight's your home ♪

♪ Because he is the answer,
tangled ♪

♪ Just an exotic-looking
creature ♪

♪ In a glass container ♪

♪ You can watch him, watch him,
watch him scratch his leg ♪

♪ Watch him as he sleeps here,
watch him in his den... ♪

(glass shatters)

(crowd gasps)

Yours, I believe.

What's your game?

Vince...

You send this to my home?

My home?!

Not me, Fred,
you got it all wrong.

VINCE:
You want to watch it.

Coming in here,
throwing your weight about?

You'll go the same way
as your boy Carter.

What did you say?

Sir.

You heard.

I don't think I did.

Why don't you come out
from behind your mates

and tell me again.

Dad!

Get out, now.

Morse, see her back.

Now, where were we?

Sit down, boy.

You gonna let him
come in like that?

Sit... down.

You come near my family again,

you'll be needing a wreath,
not me.

(faint banging)

(clattering)

Who's there?

(sighs nervously)

(footsteps approaching)

JOAN:
You won't say anything?

About Peter.

Please.

It's not easy meeting blokes.

With Dad.

No one's...

Oh, God...

Wait a minute.

(sighs with relief)

Well, he can't dance,
I know that much.

Nobody's ever good enough.

I'm sure he's just got
your best interests at heart.

(laughing)

That's very square.

Thought I'd be all right
with a copper.

Well, there are coppers
and there are coppers.

And what sort are you?

I'm the sort that see
young ladies safely home.

Go on.

I'll wait until you get inside.

Don't say anything, will you?

No.

Thanks.

Good night.

Night.

(door closes)

(horn honking)

Where is she?

They didn't...?

No.

Just put the frighteners on.

Everyone's a critic.

Any idea what was behind it?

Oh, they were quite specific.

I'm to lay off any further
stories about Booth Hill

if I know what's good for me,

which, alas, was a lesson
I never took to.

I put the master of Badeley

rather on the spot yesterday.

He marked my dance card
in no uncertain terms.

Frobisher threatened you?

Bit heavy-handed for academics,
I'd have thought.

I don't expect they did
their own dirty work.

All I've managed to glean,

there seems to be some vague
London connection.

London?

I've picked up the name Fletcher
once or twice.

Sid maybe,
if that means anything.

It might.

Get a decent look
at whoever it was?

It was dark.

But there were two of them.

I've given a description
to Constable Strange.

Unless there was anything else?

I've got a leader to write.

ENDEAVOUR:
You deny you threatened her?

Young man, that's a grossly
impertinent question.

Condescend to me, Master,

and I'll frog-march you
across that quad,

down the High and into
Cowley police station!

In handcuffs!

Do you understand?

Did you threaten her?

I refute the allegation utterly,
as I do her previous farrago

of printed untruths
and half-baked innuendo.

Refute all you please.

If I find out
you had anything to do

with what happened last night,

I'll bring the roof down
on your head.

Acomplaint has been made

by the master of Badeley College

about Morse.

He more or less accused him
of being behind this incident

at the Mail last night.

The paper's been investigating
links between Booth Hill

and certain figures
in the London underworld, sir.

The Fletcher brothers.

But not this Kasper character
you're so keen on.

Vic Kasper and the Fletchers
are known associates, sir.

Former known associates,
as I understand it.

The chief constable doesn't want
the master troubled again.

The development of Booth Hill
is an integral part

of the council's housing scheme.

Frobisher complains
to the mayor,

the mayor complains
to the chief constable...

Well, we wouldn't want murder
standing in the way of profit.

Murder?

There's nothing to suggest

that what happened
to Professor Coke Norris

was anything more than
a tragic accident.

Look, I don't want this animus
between Kasper and yourself

turning into some kind
of private vendetta.

This is Oxford,
not the Wild West.

I know my duty, sir.

See you remember it.

I'm thinking of you, Thursday.

I've seen too many
a good officer

lose his way
over some personal feud.

Believe me,
such things never end well.

(knock at door)

Sorry to interrupt, sir,
but we've got a report come in

of a young woman's body
being found.

Looks like foul play.

THURSDAY:
Who found the body?

STRANGE:
Courting couple, sir.

Quite a popular locale for it.

Even in this weather?

When the blood's up, matey.

Big with the local Toms,
too, sir, for what it's worth.

Anything to say who she was?

This was all she had
in her pocket, I'm afraid.

Back of the head, point blank.

A couple of days ago,
by the look of things.

A couple of days? You're sure?

Sure?

If it is this Bannard girl,

her flatmate said she saw her
only yesterday.

Put it this way, Morse:

either I'm
a home office pathologist

of some years standing

who's suddenly taken leave
of his senses,

or she's a liar.

Frankly, I know
where I'd put my Sixpence.

It's the only photograph
I have of us.

Of Georgina.

I didn't find it until
after Constable Morse had left.

It'd fallen down the back
of the fridge.

It's not her, is it?

I'm very sorry, Miss Vallens.

My God...

So when did you last see her?

She was still working
at the Moonlight Rooms,

wasn't she?

You're like a bad penny, Fred.

See you brought your friends.

Safety in numbers, eh?

Get a brew on, Cyn.

Or do you want a man's drink?

You know this girl?

Should I?

She worked
at the Moonlight Rooms.

I don't get involved
in the staff.

That's Cyn's side.

Looker, though.

You involved in this business

with Coke Norris, Vic?

Coke Norris?

What's that?

CYNTHIA:
What's this all about?

The girl I was asking you about
the other night.

Georgina Bannard.

How long had she worked
at the club?

I don't know.

She was there when I arrived.

Never had any trouble with her.

Good little worker.

Well, she's a dead
little worker now.

They found her body
this morning.

Somebody had put a bullet
in the back of her skull.

That's too bad.

What did you say her name was?

Georgina Bannard.

No.

She called herself
something else.

Judy.

That was it, yeah.

Judy Vallens.

If it's any use.

She used different names
depending how the mood took her.

The mood?

She got caught up with people

when she was younger.

People who took advantage.

Men.

You know?

Ended up with a record.

She was a known prostitute?

Was she involved
with Professor Coke Norris

in that capacity?

(sighs)

Awhile ago, she was sent
to meet this man

in a mews in Bayswater.

Sent by whom?

Someone from where she worked.

She had to collect a key
from a cubbyhole at Badeley.

Whose cubbyhole?

The master's.

Frobisher's?

How did you know that?

Because I was with her
when she picked it up.

How was that?

You were... particular friends,
would it be?

You wouldn't be the first

to have their head turned
by a working girl.

So I went with her to London.

I kept out of the way,
and the man arrived.

It turned out that he was to do
with the town hall.

He'd had a lot to drink,
and he started talking...

Well, bragging...

About some deal
the council had going.

Booth Hill.

He said that he stood
to make a packet,

only there was a don
at the college

trying to stop it going through.

Professor Coke Norris.

See, that was the weird thing.

That's what I couldn't
understand.

You see, it was Coke Norris's
flat we were in.

How could you know that?

There were photos there,

of him and his wife
and their daughter.

But from the way that this man
was talking,

it sounded as if he had it in
for the professor.

I mean, really had it in.

You tried to warn Coke Norris,

so you wrote your number down
on a matchbook

and slipped it to him,
asked him to call you.

Did he?

He dropped by our flat
on the way home from college,

the day he got knocked down.

I told him what I'd heard.

This man from the town hall.

Did he have a name?

Carlisle.

CARLISLE:
Sexual favors?

That's a scandalous allegation.

In return for what?

Making sure the purchase
of Booth Hill from Badeley

goes through without a hitch

and seeing the construction
contract is awarded

to the right bidder.

Who is she,

this girl I'm supposed
to have been carrying on with?

You'd have known her
as Judy Vallens.

Her real name was
Georgina Bannard.

You met her in a flat
in Bayswater

a couple of months ago.

We found her body this morning.

She'd been shot
in the back of the head.

The people you've got yourself
involved with

are very dangerous individuals,
Mr. Carlisle.

I'd urge you to cooperate
with our inquiries.

We can protect you.

I don't need protecting.

I've done nothing wrong.

Unless you're here
to charge me with something,

I've nothing else to say.

I'd have a good think
about that if I were you.

Ashort spell inside's better
than eternity in a wooden box.

You know where to reach us
if you change your mind.

This flat of yours in London,
Mrs. Coke Norris.

Unless you've any objection,
I'd like to send Constable Morse

to take a look.

Oh, no, of course not.

But Alistair hasn't been there
in weeks.

No?

When was he last there?

We went to the Proms
in September.

Really?

What was the program?

The Haffner

and Mahler 4.

Is it important?

Only insofar as I wanted to go,
but without success.

Well, you missed out.

It was quite wonderful.

We stayed up for the weekend,
saw Audrey,

caught the first train back
early on Monday morning.

How often do you visit
your daughter?

Every week, if I can.

Would that be on the same day
each week, or different days?

The same day.

So someone watching
your movements

would be able to make
a pretty good guess

as to when your husband
might be alone.

I suppose they could, yes.

(phone ringing)

Mrs. Carter?

Mrs. Wilkins, I see.

But I am right in thinking
that you were 3 Mrs. Carter?

He looked out for us
after Mickey was killed.

Inspector Thursday did?

He sent me money
at the end of each month.

Right up to when
I got married again.

He'd taken Mickey
under his wing, see.

From a young constable.

Only that night,

Mickey went to see
this informant by himself.

Turned out he'd been set up.

Meant to have only been
a beating, everyone said,

but whoever it was went too far.

Mr. Thursday blamed himself.

I told him there was no need,
but he wouldn't have it.

Then when nobody got charged

and they started saying
what they did about Mickey,

things got bad.

Fred had a young family himself.

He had to look out for them,
make sure they were kept safe.

You enjoying that sandwich?

It's all right.

Do you come here often?

Joan, isn't it?

Who wants to know?

You're from down the Moonlight.

Yeah, that's right.

Vince.

You give a little message
to your old man for me.

You tell him...

If you've got something
to say to my Dad,

you can tell him yourself,
if you can find the guts.

Ah, matey.

That envelope you had in London.

Forensics confirms it was
Coke Norris's handwriting.

Sent last post
the night he died.

Right, thanks.

JAKES: Looks like Miss
Vallens is on the level, sir.

Georgina Bannard had a string

of soliciting convictions
to her name.

I say “her name.“

Truth is, she gave
a different alias

every time she got nicked.

Marion Childs.

June Buckridge.

Betty Brinker.

Right.

Well, I'd better let Mr. Bright
know where we are.

You didn't tell him?

The old man.

About the other night,
with Joanie at the Moonlight.

I would've.

If it was you.

No, you wouldn't.

Look, you've got your sergeants'
coming up tomorrow.

What if I could get you
a look at the exam paper?

If you don't pass,

you'll be stuck on General
Inquiries for another year.

That what you want?

(scoffs)

I'm trying to do you a favor.

No.

You're trying to buy me off.

(laughs)

If you want to do me a favor...?

Don't mess her about.

All right?

DRIVER:
Yeah, that's my scrawl.

I picked him up
from Wolsey Gardens.

Old boy, 503.

Don, I took him for.

How come?

On account of the briefcase.

I remember him because
he give me a ten-bob tip.

What time was this?

Around half-7:00.

Where did you take him?

Station.

Wait and return.

I took it he must've been
meeting someone,

only he wasn't
in there five minutes.

(whistle blows)

There you are, sir.

Thank you very much.

385...

One moment.

Here we are, sir.

Thank you.

BRIGHT: I thought we had Professor
Coke Norris 's briefcase?

ENDEAVOUR:
So did Whoever killed him, sir.

But there were two:

the one found in the next
street to where he was run over

and this.

Where did you come by it?

In the left luggage office
at the station, sir.

That's what the raffle ticket
was for.

He got a taxi there
on the way to Badeley College.

He goes into the station
with the first briefcase,

leaves this one inside,

then comes out carrying
the same one he went in with.

No one watching him's
any the wiser.

So what's in it?

I haven't had a chance

to examine it in detail, sir,

but it appears to be a list
of financial transactions.

Specifically, every bribe
and back-hander

that Coke Norris
was able to uncover

between Badeley College
and the council.

The council?

I thought I'd made Division's
views on this quite clear.

I haven't had a chance

to put Morse in the picture
as yet, sir.

Then let me
save you the trouble.

How the council and the college
conduct their business

is a matter for them.

Even if it involves
corrupt practices?

You've said yourself
you don't have time

to examine this dossier
in detail.

What at first glance
may appear suspect

might turn out
on further examination

to be quite innocent.

Well, I'm sure
the master at Badeley

will be able to clear up
any misunderstandings.

(shouting):
The master at Badeley

is not to be troubled further,

and that is my final word
on the subject!

ENDEAVOUR: Coke Norris may
have been on to something

between the council
and the college,

but there's nothing in here

which ties the deal up
with Kasper.

He's involved.

Don't you worry about that.

He's in it up to his neck.

“Hast seen the white whale?“

My Joan say what she was doing

at the Moonlight
the other night?

Clerks' night out.

Girls from the bank.

How come you were there?

I was working on the case.

Looking for Georgina Bannard.

After I told you to steer clear?

Look, I don't need
protecting, sir.

Don't you?

No.

I won't end up
like Mickey Carter.

What would you know about it?

I saw his widow.

You did what?

Yeah, when I was in London.

Going behind my back?

No, sir.

Doing my job.

Yourjob's what I say it is.

You'd no business!

If it has a bearing on the case,
then it is my business.

You weren't going to tell me.

Was it Vic Kasper?

Couldn't prove it.

Investigation started turning up
Mickey'd been on the take.

He hadn't, of course.

It was a fit-up, but the brass
didn't want to know.

Brushed it under the carpet.

You wouldn't let that go.

Oh, I let it go, all right.

To my shame.

I walked away and let them bury
Mickey Carter's good name

along with his body.

They come at you
through what you care about.

That's why you moved to Oxford.

More or less.

But this is where it stops.

You were right.

It wasn't the army.

Where I learned to shoot.

When I was 12.

The first Christmas
after my mother...

My father bought me a pistol.

Used to take me out
on the common.

After rabbits.

Make a man.

(tower bells ringing)

How are you settling in?

A rather unpleasant feeling
of dead man's shoes.

Just boxing up the last
of Al's stuff.

Do you have a minute?

Actually, I'm a bit pushed
for time.

I've said I'll take Millie
to the undertakers.

Have you any idea how the master
may have come by the key

to Professor Coke Norris's flat
in London?

Dr. Kern?

It's just college gossip.

Some time ago,

Alistair loaned Frobisher
the key to their London flat.

He had some symposium to attend.

But the master took advantage,
somewhat.

He had a second key cut.

And made it available
to those fellows

who needed a place
to stay in London.

Married fellows?

Well, I suppose

intimate knowledge
of his colleagues' affairs

wouldn't do the master any harm

when it came to a vote
on Booth Hill.

Blackmail, you mean?

Away of persuading any waverers

sympathetic to Coke Norris's
cause, wouldn't you think?

Come on, Morry.

You're not gonna throw something
at me again, are you?

Flag of truce.

I'm offering a ceasefire.

What ceasefire?

48 hours' head start.

Chance to wind things up
and be on your way

before we come after you.

Come after me for what?

I told you, I'm retired.

We've got Coke Norris's
briefcase, Vic.

It's all there
in black and white.

Every bent deal you put together

to land the building
contract for Booth Hill.

(laughs)

You been on the funny fags?

I don't want anyone else
getting hurt,

so that's the offer.

Take it or leave it.

Can I open the box?

(laughing)

Serious, Fred, I don't know
what you're talking about.

But I tell you this:
I'm going nowhere.

Your Joan not spoke to you yet?

What about my Joan?

Guess not.

She was down here the other
night with that copper.

What copper?

That boy of yours.

Made a nice couple, I thought.

You what?

You talking about Morse?

Must weigh on a father,
that kind of responsibility.

She's a good-looking girl.

Be a tragedy.

But you can't be there to watch
them all the time, can you?

These papers you got
on Booth Hill.

I want them today.

That's how things are gonna go
from here on, Fred.

Better get used to it.

(phone ringing)

I want a word with you.

In private.

Sorry, sir.

Morse's sister.

Joycie?

Calm down.

I'll be there as soon as I can.

Got your ticket?

Yeah.

I'm so sorry about this.

Probably just another
false alarm.

Family.

A man only gets one father.

We'll manage.

(whistle blows)

What was it you wanted
to talk to me about?

It'll keep.

I know you went out with Joan
the other night.

Be good to her.

Right.

(door opens and closes)

You're back.

The way you went out of here
this morning,

I didn't even get a chance
to do your sandwiches.

Have you got time now?

No, Ijust popped back
to get my pipe.

Left it in the shed.

I'll do you a quick round.

Fred?

I can't believe
how many of these

Alistair's had
out of the library.

Not the Agamemnon, though.

That was a present

from Andrew Maidenhead,
the junior man before you.

My young admirer,

if you can believe such a thing.

Why wouldn't I?

He was a sweet boy,
but in the end

I had to have Alistair
talk to the master about it.

Good heavens!

Let me help.

No, no, I'm fine.

You've got to give them
what they want.

Start down that road,
there's no end to it.

This is Joan
they're threatening.

I won't let anything happen.

You've got my word.

All right?

(door closes)

Something from Companies House
for Morse

found its way onto my desk.

Marked urgent.

Afraid his father's taken
a turn for the worse, sir.

I see.

Where the hell is everyone?

Two bob 3 packet
and you're laughing.

It's easy money.

Hey up...

Where's Vic?

Just me.

It's the Engineer I'm here for,
not the Oily Rag.

If you ain't got
what I told you to get,

you're here for nothing.

Where's the papers?

In safekeeping.

Fetch him now.

You think you're walking
out of here?

I know you're not.

Nor is your old man.

After that, I don't much care.

Whoa, whoa!

Fred?

Told you to clear out, Vic.

Now it's this.

Wait a minute.

What for?

How about Coke Norris?

No?

All right.

Try the young girl we found
with a bullet in her skull.

I'm retired, I told you.

Carter, then.

We can agree on Carter.

All's fair, Fred.

Water under.

Threatening my Joan?

Water under?

That's none of mine.

Bad luck for you, then.

Sir!

Don't!

He's telling the truth.

Stay out of this, Morse.

VINCE:
Thank God.

Someone with some sense.

What's this?

The papers?

After a fashion.

These are the articles
of association

for Landesman Construction.

Hold on...

Four shareholders.

Equal partners.

Sid and Gerald Fletcher,

your son Vince,

and Cynthia Riley.

What?

I don't know nothing
about this, Vic.

Vince, tell him.

She don't, Dad.

Cyn's been loyal.

I put it in her name
as a surprise for you.

ENDEAVOUR: Oh,
you would have been surprised.

Your son's put together a firm
with the Fletchers

to build houses on Booth Hill.

No law against it.

No, but there is a law against
bribing public officials.

Checks to the sum of £6,000

drawn against the account
of Landesman Construction

have been cashed
over the past 12 months

by Mark Carlisle,
senior planning officer

in the Housing Department.

It's between me
and the boy, Fred.

(banging)

You let me straighten him out.

Can't do it, Vic.

Police!

Drop the guns.

Nobody move!

Guns down!

All in order, Thursday?

Yes, sir.

All in order.

Morse?

Vince Kasper, I am arresting you

for conspiring to bribe
a public official.

You don't have to say anything,

but anything you do say
may be written down

and can be given in evidence
against you.

Strange.

We'll also need you
to come down to the station

for questioning, Miss Riley.

BRIGHT: Go back to
London, Mr. Kasper.

Oxford's not for you.

Workhouse Rules.

I put you on a train.

I got off.

So if it wasn't Vince or Vic

who did for Coke Norris
and the girl,

we're back to where we started.

Yes.

Exactly where we started.

(knocking)

(loud classical music playing)

Mrs. Coke Norris?

Oh, Inspector.

Constable Morse.

The front door was already open.

Come in.

Do.

One or two questions
we need to put to you

about your husband's death.

Oh, of course.

Please.

The morning of the day
he was killed,

you took a train to London.

The 10:40.

That's right.

And the day you came back,

what train did you catch?

The 9:50.

So you'd have left your flat
at what time?

About half-past 9:00?

Around that, yes.

After the first post?

Oh, yes.

When I visited your London flat,

Hound a miter addressed
to your husband on the mat.

It would have arrived
that morning.

I'm curious,

why didn't you bring it back
to Oxford with you for him?

THURSDAY:
Isn't the truth of it

that you caught the train
up to London,

but returned to Oxford
later that same day

in the car kept
at your mews flat?

Of course not.

That's ridiculous.

How could I?

I don't even drive.

No, you don't have a license.

But you did drive an ambulance
in the war.

You think I ran Alistair over?

No.

You knew your husband was going
to Badeley College that evening,

so you followed him.

You lured him into the car
under some pretext or other,

you drove him out of town
to some private place,

where you stalled the car

or otherwise engineered
a mechanical fault.

We are ridiculously late!

ENDEAVOUR:
You got him back into the car,

then found a quiet street
in Oxford,

where you dumped his body

to be taken for the victim
of a hit-and-run.

The squeal of brakes
was a nice touch.

But you almost ruined it.

You dumped his body,
but in your haste,

you'd overlooked his briefcase

and driven back with it
to London.

So you took an early train
back to Oxford

and left it in the street.

That's why you missed
the first post.

You'd left before it arrived.

Why would I hurt Alistair?

Because you'd become
infatuated with Ian Kern

to the point of obsession.

ENDEAVOUR:
In your head,

you'd created the fantasy
of a future together.

When the land sale arose,

you saw a way of financing
that delusion.

As a junior fellow,

Dr. Kern stood to gain
nothing from the deal.

But what if he were
to become a senior?

Professor Coke Norris
confided every detail

of his campaign to you,
didn't he?

We were of one mind.

Even so,
you must have been alarmed

when he told you of a pupil

who had vital information'

whereby the land sale
might be derailed.

You followed Judy Vallens,
found out where she lived,

but you made the same error
that we did

and mistook her flatmate
Georgina Bannard

for Miss Val/ens.

You shot her in the head.

You shot her and returned
to her flat for her clothes

to create the impression
that she'd gone away.

Where's your evidence
for any of this Charade?

You told me that the last time
your husband was in London

was for a Prom.

The Haffner and the Mahler Four.

That concert took place
on Friday the 3rd of September,

the same weekend your car
was in for its annual service.

The car was returned
from a garage in Mayfair

on the Monday morning where,
according to you,

it has been parked outside
of your mews ever since.

That's right.

Right.

So how do you explain
the difference in mileage

between the total written down
in the log book

after its service
and its current total?

Adistance of 120-odd miles,

roughly that of a round-trip
from London to Oxford.

If you transported
your husband in the car,

there will be evidence.

A spot of blood on the carpet.

In the crack between
the seat and the backrest.

Mrs. Coke Norris,
you've killed two people,

all for some delusional fantasy
of a romance with someone

who finds your attentions
oppressive.

Ian loved me.

He did.

I know he did.

He just needed time.

THURSDAY: Perhaps you'd
like to get your coat.

Actually, I think I should like
to sit down for a minute.

Sir.

Where's Dr. Kern?

Mrs. Coke Norris?

(sighs nervously)

In the study.

(laughs)

After all I'd done.

Call an ambulance.

This is DC Morse, Oxford Police.

I need an ambulance...

(gunshots)

Morse?

Watch yourself on these steps.

(groaning)

I've made as best
a running repair as I can,

but you really need
to go to Casualty.

I don't have time.

(knocking)

(door opens)

(groaning)

The doctor said
we should talk to you.

(birds singing)

(sighing)

(clock ticking)

Anything you need?

I'll be back in a few days.

DOCTOR:
It's a pity you didn't come

and see me a bit sooner.

The leg will mend,
but in middle age

you may well find yourself
saddled with a limp.

Nothing serious.

Just if you're overti red
or the weather turns.

(door opens)

(groaning)

Captioned by Media Access
Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org