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One Tuesday morning in autumn

at precisely half past eight,

Sherlock Holmes received a mysterious message

that two men of great public distinction

would be visiting Baker's Street

in their private capacity

and under circumstances

of complete secrecy.

Holmes, they're here.

In brief, Mr. Holmes.

A document has been stolen

from my private dispatch box

and when I discovered my loss,

which was at eight o'clock this morning,

I at once informed the Prime Minister.

It was at his suggestion

that we both come to you.

You have informed the police?

No sir, we have not done so,

nor is it possible that we should do so.

To inform the police must, in the long run,

mean to inform the public.

And that is what we

particularly desire to avoid.

And why, sir?

Because the document in question

is of such immense importance

that its publication might very easily,

I might almost say probably,

lead to European complications

of the utmost moment.

Unless its recovery is attended

by the utmost secrecy,

then it may as well not be recovered at all,

for all that is aimed at

by those who have taken it

is that its contents

should be generally known.

I understand.

Watson,

do sit down.

Now, Mr. Trelawney Hope,

I'd be much obliged if you would tell me

the exact circumstances

under which this document disappeared.

As Secretary of State for European affairs,

I received the letter six days ago.

It was a letter from the foreign potentate

you understand.

It was of such importance

that I never left it in my safe,

but I have taken each evening from my office,

back to my house in Whitehall Terrace,

and kept it in my bedroom,

locked in my dispatch box.

And you are sure it was there last night?

Yes, I'm quite certain of that fact.

I actually opened the dispatch box

while I was dressing for dinner,

and I saw the letter inside.

It then remained upon my bedside table.

Both my wife and I are light sleepers

and are prepared to swear that no one

could have entered the room during the night.

And yet this morning the paper is gone.

What time did you dine?

Seven-thirty.

How long was it before you went to bed?

My wife had gone to the theatre.

I had waited up for her.

It was eleven-thirty before we went our room.

So for four hours

the dispatch box had lain unguarded?

Mr. Holmes,

no one is ever permitted to enter that room

save the housemaid in the morning,

and my valet during the rest of the day.

They are both trusty servants

who have been with us for many years.

Besides,

neither of them could have possibly known

that there was anything

more valuable than the ordinary

departmental papers in my box.

Surely your wife knew?

Mr. Holmes?

I have long known how high

Mr. Hope's sense of public duty.

I am convinced that in the case of this importance

it would rise superior to the most

intimate domestic ties.

You do me no more than justice, Prime Minister.

Until this morning I have never breathed one word

to my wife upon this matter.

Who is there in England

who did know the existence of this letter?

Each member of the Cabinet

was informed of it yesterday

but the pledge of secrecy,

which attends every Cabinet meeting,

was increased by the solemn warning

given by the Prime Minister.

My God,

to think that within a few hours

I myself should have lost it.

Besides the members of the Cabinet

there are two,

possibly three,

departmental officials

who know of the letter.

No one else in England, I assure you.

But abroad?

I believe that no one abroad

has seen the letter

except the man who wrote it.

I am well convinced that his ministers

that the usual official channels

have not been employed in this case.

Now, sir, I must ask you more particularly

what this document is,

and why its disappearance

should have such momentous consequences?

Mr. Holmes,

the envelope is a long, thin one

of pale blue color.

There's a seal of red wax

stamped with a crouching lion.

It is addressed in large, bold handwriting...

Interesting and indeed

essential as these details are,

my inquiries must go more to the root of things.

What was the letter?

That is a State secret of the utmost importance,

which we cannot tell you,

nor do I see that it is necessary.

If by the powers which you are said to possess

you can find such an envelope as I describe

with its enclosure

then you will have deserved well of your country,

and earned any reward,

which it is within our power to bestow.

Gentlemen,

you are two of the most

busy men in the country

and in my own small way

I have a good many calls upon me.

I regret exceedingly

that I am unable to help you in this matter,

and any continuation of this interview

would be a waste of time.

I am not accustomed sir to such things.

Dear Mr. Holmes,

we must accept your terms.

No doubt you are right,

and it is unreasonable for us to expect you

to act unless you have our full confidence.

I agree with you, Prime Minister.

Then I will tell you,

relying entirely upon your honor

and that of your colleague, Dr. Watson.

I must appeal to your patriotism also,

for I cannot imagine

a greater misfortune for this country

than that this affair should come out.

You may safely trust us.

The letter, then,

is from a certain foreign potentate

who has been ruffled by some recent

colonial developments of this country.

It is written hurriedly

and upon his own responsibility entirely.

At the same time

it is couched in so unfortunate a manner

that its publication would undoubtedly

lead to the most dangerous feeling in this country.

There would be such ferment, sir

that I do not hesitate to say

that within a week

of the publication of this letter

this country would be involved in a great war.

And it is this letter,

which may well mean the expenditure

of a thousand million pounds

and the lives

of a hundred thousand men.

Have you informed the sender?

A cipher telegraph has been dispatched.

Perhaps he desires the publication of the letter.

No, Doctor, we have strong reason to believe

that he already understands that he has

acted in an indiscreet and hotheaded manner.

It would be a far greater blow to him

and his country than to us

if this letter were to come out.

If this is so,

in who's interest is it that the letter should come out?

Why should anyone desire to steal it or publish it?

There, Doctor Watson, you take me into the realms

of high international politics.

But if you consider the European situation

you will have no difficulty

in perceiving the motive.

The whole of Europe is an armed camp.

Great Britain holds the scales.

If Britain were driven into war

with one confederacy,

it would assure the supremacy of the other,

whether they were joined in the war or not.

So does the enemies of this potentate

who want to secure and publish this letter,

so as to make a breach

between his country and ours?

Yes, sir.

And to whom would the document be sent

if it fell into the wrong hands?

To any of the great chancelleries of Europe.

It is probably speeding its way thither

at the present instant

as fast as steam can take it.

It is your misfortune, my dear fellow.

No one can blame you.

There's no precaution which you have neglected.

But now, Mr. Holmes,

you are in full possession of the facts.

What course do you recommend?

You think that if this document is not recovered

there will be war?

I think it is very probable.

Then, sir, prepare for war.

That is a hard saying, Mr. Holmes.

Consider the facts.

It seems no doubt this document was taken

between half past seven

and half past eleven yesterday evening,

so where can it be now?

No one has any reason to retain it.

It has been passed from hand to hand rapidly

to those who need it

and who will pay well for it.

What chance do we have

to overtake it or even trace it?

It is beyond our reach.

What you say is perfectly logical, Mr. Holmes.

I feel that the matter is indeed out of our hands.

Meanwhile, Hope,

we cannot ignore all our other duties

on account of this one misfortune.

Should there be any fresh developments

during the day we will communicate with you

and you no doubt will let us know

the results of your own inquiries.

Thank you.

Telegraph!

Westminster Murder!

Westminster Murder!

Telegraph!

Westminster Murder!

Telegraph!

The situation is desperate,

but not hopeless.

There are only three men

capable of playing so bold a game

Oberstein, La Rothiere, and Eduardo Lucas.

Even now, if we could be sure

which one of them has taken it,

it is just possible

that it has not passed out of their hands.

It's a question of money with these fellows,

isn't it?

Well we have the British Treasure behind us.

Oh if it's on the market I'll buy it

if it means another penny on the income tax.

Come in.

Excuse, Mr. Holmes.

Mrs. Hudson, what is it?

Lady Hilda Trelawney Hope,

show her in.

Has my husband been here, Mr. Holmes?

Madam, yes he has been here.

Mr. Holmes,

I implore you

not to tell him I came here.

Your ladyship puts me

in a very delicate position.

I beg of you to sit down

and tell me what it is you desire

but I cannot make you any unconditional promise.

Gentlemen, I will speak frankly to you

in the hope that it will induce you

to speak frankly in return.

There is complete confidence

between my husband and myself

on all matters except one.

That one is politics.

On this his lips are sealed.

He tells me nothing.

Now, I am aware that there was a most

deplorable occurrence in our house last night.

I know that a paper has disappeared.

But because the matter is political

my husband refuses to take me

into his complete confidence.

Now it is essential

essential, I say

that I should thoroughly understand it.

You are the only people,

save these politicians,

who know the true facts,

at least I presume you do.

You presume correctly, madam.

I beg you then,

tell me exactly what has happened

and what it may lead to.

Tell me all, Mr. Holmes.

Let no regard for my husband's interest

keep you silent,

for I assure you

that his interests,

if he would only see it,

would be best served by taking me

into his complete confidence.

What was this paper, which was stolen?

Madam, what you ask me is really impossible.

You must see that this so.

If your husband thinks fit

to keep you in the dark over this matter,

is it for me,

who has only learned the true facts

under the pledge of professional secrecy,

to tell what he has withheld?

It is not fair to ask it.

It is he who you must ask.

I have asked him.

I come to you as a last resort.

But without your telling me anything definite

you may do me a great service

if you would enlighten me on one point.

What is it, madam?

Is my husband's political career

likely to suffer through this incident?

Well let me say if it is not put right

it may have a very unfortunate effect.

Oh.

One more question, Mr. Holmes.

From an expression which my husband dropped

in the first shock of the disaster

I understood that terrible public consequences

might arise from the loss this document.

If he said so, I cannot deny it.

Of what nature are they?

There again

you ask me more

than I can possibly answer.

Then I will waste no more of your time.

I cannot blame you, Mr. Holmes,

for refusing to speak more freely,

and you on your side will not,

I am sure, think the worst of me

because I desire to share my husband's anxieties,

even against his will.

Once more I beg

you will say nothing of my visit.

I say,

what a really remarkable

and beautiful woman.

The fair sex is your department, Watson.

What did she really want?

Surely her own statement was clear

and her anxiety very natural.

Think of her appearance, Watson, her manner,

her suppressed excitement,

her restlessness,

her tenacity in asking questions.

Remember she is the youngest daughter

of the Duke of Belminster

and comes of a cast

that does not likely show emotion.

She was certainly much moved.

And you observed, of course,

how she maneuvered to have her back to the light.

She did not wish us

to read her expression too closely.

Yes; she choose that chair in the whole room.

And yet the motives of women are so inscrutable.

I mean, how could build on such a quicksand?

Their most trivial action may mean volumes,

or their most extraordinary conduct

may depend upon a hairpin or a curling tong.

Good morning, Watson.

You off then?

Yes.

Holmes?

Was one of the agents you spoke of

called Eduardo Lucas?

Yes.

Of Godolphin Street?

Yes.

You'll not see him.

Why not?

He was murdered in his house last night.

Does it say murdered?

Murdered in Westminster.

Crime of a mysterious character.

Eduardo Lucas,

unmarried, thirty-four,

well known in society circles

on account of his charming personality.

Valet out for the evening.

They always are.

Elderly housekeeper

sleeps at the top of the house, heard nothing.

They never do.

Just before midnight

police constable, Barrett,

saw a door ajar,

Found Lucas stabbed to the heart.

Awe, let me see.

Prussian dagger.

Robbery does not appear to be the motive.

Valuable collection untouched.

What do you make of this, Watson?

Well it's an...

it's an amazing coincidence.

Coincidence?

Here is one of the three men

whom we have named

as possible actors in this drama,

and he meets a violent end

during the very hours we know

that drama is enacted.

The odds are enormously

against it being a coincidence.

The two events are connected

must be connected.

It is for us to find the connection.

By now the police must know all.

No, not at all.

They know all they see at Godolphin Street.

They know, and shall know nothing

of Whitehall Terrace.

Only we know of both events,

and can trace the relation between them.

It is with the late Eduardo Lucas

that the solution to our problem lies.

But it is a capital mistake

to theorize in advance of the facts.

You stay here my good, Watson,

I will join you when I'm able.

Watson, they've arrested the valet.

Lestrade has been put in charge of the case.

He's buzzing around like a blue bottle.

I've got to know him rather well.

Would it help if I spoke to him?

No, no it would not.

This is a case where

the law is as dangerous to us

as the criminals are.

We must be patient and wait.

Lucas murder case.

The Evening Standard.

Lucas murder case.

Suspect released.

Murder case.

Suspect released.

The Evening Standard.

Lucas murder case.

Breakfast, Mr. Holmes.

No, no,

No thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

I don't want any.

I don't know.

You'll fade away at this rate.

I say, Holmes, they've found the murderer

or rather the murderess.

Indeed.

There's a wire from Paris.

Apparently Lucas was leading a double life.

He had a Creole wife in France

where he called himself Henri Fournaye.

The woman was reported to the police yesterday

by her servants,

she is quite insane,

a mania of a dangerous and permanent form.

Poor woman.

But listen to this.

The same woman was seen

in the neighborhood of Godolphin Street

on the night of the murder

and later made an emotional scene

at Charing Cross Station.

Now what do you think of that?

Oh my dear Watson,

you are so long-suffering,

if I've told you nothing over these last few days

it is because there is nothing to tell.

Even now this report from Paris

doesn't help us much.

Well surely it's final as regards to Lucas' death.

The man's death is a mere incident

a trivial episode

in comparison with our real task,

which is to trace the document

and save a European catastrophe.

Now if the letter were loose

no, it cannot be loose

but if it isn't loose,

where can it be?

Who has it?

Why is it held back?

Look if Lestrade found it amongst Lucas' papers

he's not such a fool as to announce it.

He would inform the chief commissioner.

The chief commissioner

would inform the Home Secretary

and he, in turn, the Prime Minister.

No it's not among Lucas' papers.

But why is it held back?

That is the question

which beats in my brain like a hammer.

Was it a mere coincidence

that Lucas should meet his death

on the night when the letter disappeared?

Did it ever reach him?

Has this mad wife of his

taken it with her to Paris?

If so, is it in her house in Paris?

Shall I go to Paris?

That would alert the French Police.

Every man's hand is against us,

and yet,

the interest at stake are colossal.

Should I bring this to a successful conclusion,

it will certainly represent

the crowning glory of my career.

Holmes, look!

Thank you.

There you go gov.

Thank you.

Mr. Holmes.

Doctor Watson!

You've no doubt been following the Lucas case?

Lucas?

Lucas?

Awe yes, the name does seem familiar to me.

Eduardo Lucas

found murdered last Tuesday night

at his house in Godolphin Street.

Rather a distinguished gentlemen.

Student of international politics

and a remarkable linguist, so they say.

I've been in charge of the case, matter of fact.

Not an easy task by any means.

Some delicate problems you understand?

But to the aid of our French friends

I will be able to bring the case

to a satisfactory conclusion.

All the loose ends tied up.

Oh we've got it,

clear as if we'd seen it.

Congratulations, Lestrade.

Another feather in your cap.

Thank you.

Yes indeed.

Oh before you go, Mr. Holmes,

it's a mere trifle,

but the sort of thing you take an interest in

queer, you know,

what you might call freakish.

It has nothing to do with the main fact,

can't have, on the face of it.

What is it, then?

Well if you gentlemen

could come down to Godolphin Street

I think I could explain it

better on the spot.

For a few minutes perhaps.

Oh good, it's only just around the corner.

Thank you Cabbie,

keep the change.

Here it all is.

Now the woman must have knocked on the door

after she saw the valet had gone out.

Surprise visit no doubt.

Lucas let her in.

He couldn't keep her on the street could he,

his own wife?

She started screaming at him being French.

Excuse me.

Saying how'd she traced him

and reproaching him and so on.

Anyway they came in here

and one thing led to another

and with the daggers being so handy

the end came soon.

It didn't happen in an instant though

for these chairs were swept over to the wall

and he had this one in his hand,

as if he did try to hold her off with it.

Yes Lestrade, thank you.

Now tell me about this trifle.

Well, you know in crimes of this sort

we keep things in their position.

Nothing has moved.

Officers in charge day and night.

I'm always very particular on that point.

Oh yes,

you're meticulous in your investigations, Inspector.

Well this morning we thought

we could tidy up a bit.

Post-mortem over,

all the evidence gathered,

investigation complete,

however, this carpet.

As you can see it's not been fastened down,

it's just been laid there.

Now we had occasion to raise it.

And we found...

Yes?

You'll never guess in a hundred years

what we did find, Mr. Holmes.

Now you see this stain?

Now a good deal of blood must have soaked through,

must it not?

Undoubtedly it must.

Then you'll be surprised to hear

that there is no stain on the woodwork

to correspond.

No stain?

But there must be.

So you would say.

Fact remains

there isn't.

But the under side is as stained as the upper.

It must have left a mark.

Now I will show you the explanation.

There is a second stain,

but it does not correspond with this one.

Doctor Watson,

will you take that side of the carpet?

Now we will move round

in an empty clockwise direction.

What I want to know is, Mr. Holmes,

who shifted the carpet

and why?

Lestrade, who was on duty

the day after the murder?

The day after?

MacPherson.

He's out there now.

Take my advice.

Examine him carefully.

I'll get him.

Don't do it before us.

We'll wait here.

Tell him you know someone has been here.

Press him.

Tell him a full confession

is his only chance of forgiveness.

Do exactly as I tell you.

By George, if he knows

I'll have it out of him.

Watson, quick get the table!

Empty.

Holmes!

In here, Constable.

MacPherson.

How's the family?

Very well, thank you sir.

Well come out with it.

Let these gentlemen

hear of your inexcusable conduct.

Well I meant no harm sir, I'm sure.

This young woman came to the door

answering an advertisement about typewriting.

It was mistook, the house she said.

While we were talking, sir, you know how it is?

It's a bit lonely when you're out there

on duty all day.

What happened, MacPherson?

Well, sir, we got talking about the crime.

She had read about it in the paper, she said,

and wanted to see where it was done.

So I saw no harm

in letting her have a weak peep.

She got just about in the door there,

spotted that mark in the carpet

and down she dropped on the floor,

and lay for dead.

And no wonder.

Go on, MacPherson.

Well sir, I was away around at the lvy Plant

for some brandy,

and by the time I had brought it back

the young woman had...

well she wasn't here anymore.

She had recovered and was off.

Ashamed of herself,

and dared not face me.

MacPherson,

did you move the carpet?

No sir, I only straightened it out.

You see she had fell on it

and the polished floor being slippery.

Let that be a lesson to you, Constable,

that you can't deceive me.

No doubt that you thought your breach of duty

would never be discovered,

and yet a mere glance at that carpet

was enough to convince me

that someone had been admitted to this room.

Lucky for you, my man,

that nothing's missing.

Otherwise you would find yourself in Queer Street.

That will do.

Watson, what are we doing here?

We have work elsewhere.

Another feather in your cap, Lestrade.

Oh thank you, Mr. Holmes.

Good Lord, Mr. Holmes!

Hey.

Have you solved it?

Hardly, Watson, hardly.

Two gentlemen wish to speak to you, my lady.

They do not have an appointment.

Who are they, Bates?

Mr. Sherlock Holmes

and a Doctor Watson, my lady.

Very well.

You may show them in.

Very well, my lady.

Excuse me.

Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson, my lady.

Mr. Holmes.

This is surely most unfair

and ungenerous on your part.

I have desired, as I have explained,

to keep my visit to you a secret

and yet you compromise me by coming here,

and so showing that there are

business relations between us.

Unfortunately, madam,

I have no possible alternative.

I've been commissioned to recover

an immensely important document.

I must ask you, therefore,

to be kind enough

to place it in my hands.

You insult me, Mr. Holmes.

Do not ring, Lady Hilda.

If you work with me I can arrange everything.

If you work against me,

I must expose you.

You're trying to frighten me.

It's not a very manly thing, Mr. Holmes,

to come here and browbeat a woman.

You say you have something to tell me.

Very well, I give you five minutes.

One is enough, Lady Hilda.

I know of your visit to Eduardo Lucas,

of your giving him this letter,

of your ingenious return to the room

on the evening after the murder,

and of the manner in which you took this letter

from it's hiding place under the carpet.

I have kept this because

I thought it might be useful.

The policeman recognized you.

Once again, Mr. Holmes,

I tell you you're under some absurd illusion.

Oh I am so sorry, Lady Hilda.

I have done my best,

but I feel that I'm in vain.

Is Mr. Trelawney Hope at home?

He'll be back at half past twelve, sir.

Then we have a quarter of an hour.

We will wait here.

Oh, spare me, Mr. Holmes.

Spare me.

For heaven's sake don't tell him.

I love him so.

I would not bring one shadow on his life,

and this I know would break his noble heart.

We have not an instant to lose.

Where is the letter?

Here it is.

I wish to heaven I'd never seen it.

And the dispatch box?

With my husband.

Wherever he goes he takes it with him.

We only have a few minutes left.

Now, Lady Hilda, I'm going far to screen you.

In return

you will spend the time

telling me frankly the real meaning

of this extraordinary affair.

It was on the afternoon of that day,

that terrible day.

The day Eduardo Lucas was murdered?

Yes.

I was just going out to pay some calls

when a confidential note arrived for me.

It was from Lucas

asking me to visit him urgently,

as he had important and private information

for my ears alone.

He had obtained, in some way,

a letter of mine,

Mr. Holmes.

An indiscreet letter

written before my marriage.

Foolish letter.

Letter of an impulsive, loving girl.

I meant no harm,

yet my husband would have thought it criminal.

Had he read that letter

his confidence would have been forever destroyed.

It's years since I wrote it.

I thought the whole matter was forgotten.

No doubt you remember to content very well.

Very sprightly, I must say, very sprightly.

You make a charming correspondent.

What do you want with me, Mr. Lucas?

May I have my letter back please?

Of course you may, Lady Hilda.

But this is a very valuable piece of paper,

would you not agree?

I'm sure if it was laid before your husband

he would hardly fail to appreciate the content.

You're a blackmailer.

A businessman, Lady Hilda.

This is purely a business transaction on my side.

I can assure you I wish no ill

to you or your husband.

How much money do you want for that letter,

Mr. Lucas?

Let's not speak of money, madam.

My business is not so simple as that.

Well the matter is an easy one.

Every evening

when your husband returns from his ministry

he brings with him

his private dispatch box.

Is that not so?

Yes.

When he comes home tonight

this box will contain

a long, blue envelope

sealed in red wax

with a crouching lion stamped on it.

Bring me that long, blue envelope

with its contents

and I will return you this.

But my husband?

No harm will come to him.

I can assure you.

Put yourselves in my position.

What was I to do?

Take your husband into your confidence.

I could not, Doctor Watson, I could not.

On the one side seemed certain ruin

on the other, terrible as it seemed

to take my husband's paper,

in a matter of politics

I could not understand it.

While in the matter of love and trust

it was only too clear to me.

I did it, Mr. Holmes.

I did it.

I invented a story about going to the theatre.

[Screaming in French]

The next morning

I realized I'd only exchanged

one trouble for another.

I followed my husband to Baker Street

and then came to you myself

in order to understand

the full enormity of the offence.

I alone in the world

knew where the paper was hidden.

My whole mind was turned to the one thought

of getting it back.

What I did,

here he is now.

Any news Mr. Holmes?

Any news?

I have some hopes.

This is a matter of politics, my dear.

We shall not be long.

The Prime Minister is lunching with us.

May he share your hopes.

He has nerves of steel

and yet I know

that he's hardly slept

since this terrible event.

Mr. Holmes has some news for us, sir.

What have you to report, Mr. Holmes?

Purely negative as yet.

I have made inquiries

at every point where it might be,

and I'm sure there's no danger

to be apprehended.

That's not enough, Mr. Holmes.

We cannot live on this volcano.

We must have something definite.

I have high hopes of getting the letters back.

That is why I'm here.

The more I think of it

the more I am convinced

that the letter has never left this house.

Oh really, Mr. Holmes.

But why should anybody take it in order

to keep it in this house?

I'm not convinced that anybody has taken it.

Mr. Holmes, this joking is very ill timed.

You have my assurance it was taken.

Have you examined the box carefully

since last Tuesday morning?

No not thoroughly.

I did not consider it necessary.

You could conceivably

have overlooked the letter.

That is impossible, sir.

I have known such things happening.

You have other papers in the box?

Yes, all my confidential papers.

It could have got mixed with them.

It was on the top.

The box could have been shaken.

I had everything out.

It's easily settled.

Let's go and look.

This is a farcical waste of time,

but still,

if nothing else will satisfy you,

it shall be done.

Here are all my confidential papers

as you can see.

It's a letter from Lord Merrow,

report from Sir Charles Hardy,

memorandum from Belgrade,

that's the one

we were discussing this morning, Prime Minister,

note on the Russo-German grain taxes,

letter from Madrid,

note from Lord Flowers...

Yes, this is it.

And the letter is intact.

Remarkable.

This is inconceivable.

Impossible, Mr. Holmes.

Hilda?

How did you know it was here?

Because I knew it was nowhere else.

I cannot believe my eyes!

Hilda, we have found the letter

and I know it is difficult

for you to understand

but it is the most wonderful news.

It's quite extraordinary.

I went through every paper in here.

I checked and I rechecked.

It's incomprehensible

that I should have overlooked it

in this manner.

Oh gentlemen.

Come,

there's more in this than meets the eye.

Prime Minister,

we too have our diplomatic secrets.

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