All language subtitles for 05 - The Absent-Minded Coterie

[Dog barking in distance]

[ Metal clanks]

[ Gasping 1

[ Laughs 1

In late Victorian times
there lived many detectives --

the rivals
of Sherlock Homes.

[ French accent] Now, let us
recapitulate, Lord Semptam.

The figurine was of great value.

Priceless.

After you examined it,
you placed it on the table.

Um...

Ah! Here.

There was no one else
in the house.

Now, let me see.

Oh, dear, the --
Oh, the servants?

Have all been satisfactorily
accounted for.

The outside doors were bolted.

- The doors, Colonel.
-Eh?

Oh, yes, Monsieur Valmont.

Now, where's my pipe?

It was priceless,

yet you placed it on the table
and simply went to bed?

My dear Valmont --

Hopeless, hopeless fellow.
Well, I left it somewhere.

- And it has vanished.
-Utterly.

No, the figurine, Colonel.

Eh?
Oh, yes, yes, utterly.

Searched the house.
Bought that pipe in Calcutta.

Vraiment??

Now, let me see.
Let me see.

Our dear friend placed
the figurine on the table here.

Perhaps a question
occurred to him.

Shall we say
the ceramic composition

of early Cretan figurines?

Oui.

He goes
to the appropriate bookshelf,

perhaps here, and selects
an appropriate volume.

Ah, here we are.

Oh.

Lord Semptam.

SEMPTAM: Hmm?
[ Chuckles ]

Ooh!
[ Chuckles ]

Bless my soul.

[ Chuckles ]

- Oh, look.
-[ Laughs ]

You see, you did not put it
on the table.

You put it on the bookshelf,
and when you replaced the book,

you simply pushed it
to the back, huh?

You know,
I really cannot remember.

COLONEL: Well, never mind,
Semptam. [Chuckles]

It did take France's
greatest detective to --

No, no, Colonel,
not "detective."

Shall we say her greatest
amateur of detection, huh?

Ah, well, I wish you would find
my pipe, eh, Semptam?

[ Chuckles ]

[ Indistinct conversations]

E t voila'.

I Laughter]

Well, I don't know
how to thank you.

No, no, no, no, no.

Your excellent dinner
was thanks enough.

No, Semptam.

Huh? Oh!

Sir?

Yes?
Ah, yes.

It's for me?
Oh, merci, merci.

Excuse me.

[ Indistinct conversation]

Oh, I regret I must leave you.

Ah. Something urgent?

- Oui.
-SEMPTAM: Urgent? Urgent?

Oh, please forgive me,
gentlemen.

Marsh will look after you.

Not you, Semptam.

It's Monsieur Valmont
who's wanted.

A telephone message.

Inspector Hale of Scotland Yard
is waiting for me.

No, no, Marsh, thank you.

In this fog? Ohh!

It is quicker to walk, eh?

- Good night.
-MARSH: Good night, sir.

BOY:
Paper!

Oh, boy?

New American president.
Read all about it, governor.

There we are.
Merci.

BOY:
Paper! Paper!

Read all about it!

Paper! Paper!

[ Coughs 1

Madame.

Oh, pardon.
Mademoiselle.

[ Chuckles ]
Permit me.

-[ Knock on door]
-Thank you.

It seems we have
a common acquaintance --

Lord Semptam, eh, eh?

Oh, well.

Oh, mon Dieu!

Oh, my dear Hale,

you are a brave man
to venture out in this fog.

Can't raise a fog like this
in Paris, Monsieur Valmont.

No, in that, at least,
you are supreme.

Phelps, some drinks.

I have yours ready, sir.

Oh, do sit down.

Well, it is surely an important
thing that brings you here, huh?

The fog must be very thick
in Scotland Yard, huh?

You're a very clever man,
Monsieur Valmont.

VALMONT:
No, no, no, please.

If I permitted compliments,

it would take up too much time,
hmm?

You need my poor brain.

Been reading the news, Valmont?

Have you braved the fog
to discuss with me the fact

that Major McKinley
has been elected president

of the United States, huh?

That is why I'm here.

Well?

Well, you want my help,
and you give me a riddle.

Anyone else,
I'd be more explicit,

but seeing that you are
Eugene Valmont,

I wonder if I need add anything
to this.

Oh.

Have they eluded you?

HALE:
Who?

VALMONT:
The coiners.

[ Chuckles ]

- That was just a lucky shot.
-Parfaitement.

It was, now.
Own up.

How can I contradict a guest?

Oh?

Five shilling pieces?

Ah.

Very good.

[Coin clinking]

Excellent.

We have a craftsman here.

HALE: A real artist, I'd say.
Now, come on, Valmont.

How did you know?

Major McKinley was elected
President of the United States

because of the terrible slump
on Wall Street,

which was caused by the heavy
fall in the price of silver.

Was not that the clue
you gave me?

I sent a mind reader to jail
last week.

[ Chuckles ]

You know, these are not
forgeries of base metal.

They are real silver.

Right, so you can't detect them
even by the acid test.

No, no, only a slight disparity
in the number of ridges

tells me they are not
from Her Majesty's Royal Mint.

Right again.

These fellows are buying up
silver dirt cheap

and turning out
the spitting image

of real five-shilling pieces

and making 100% profit
on each one.

Ooh!

Ingenious people.

I haven't a trace of them,

except the name of the fellow
who's shoving them.

What? Oh, putting them
into circulation.

You might ask
why we don't arrest him.

Oh, my dear inspector,

he alone can lead you
to the rest of the gang, huh?

Who is he?

A Mr. Ralphe Summertrees,

and he lives in no less
a fashionable street

than Park Lane.

We've been onto him
for about six weeks.

He's not married.

He lives alone with a
housekeeper, a butler, a valet,

oh, and a French cook.

And now let us pray.

When the wicked turneth away
from wickedness

and doeth that
which is lawful and right,

he shall save his soul alive.

VALMONT:
Oh! A French cook.

This case does interest me.

Then you'll help us?

I shall need
more coin specimens,

dates and locations of recovery,

and all the information you have

about Summertrees
and his household.

It's all at the Yard.

Phelps, a coach and a cab
at once, please.

Yes, sir.

I suspect Mr. Summertrees
is worthy of my attention.

Ha! Ha! Hai!

You heard something?

Come in, Podgers.

Clear up that mess, will you?

Yes, sir.

Do you know what this is?

No, sir.

A yataghan, once used
by Turkish executioners.

Yes, sir.

Oh, Podgers.

PODGERS'.
Sh"?

I beg your pardon, sir?

The safe, man.
Open it.

The safe?

There's only one safe
in this room.

I'm sure you've long been
curious as to its contents.

- Oh, no, sir, I wouldn't --
-How odd.

You know, if I were a butler, I
should long to know such things.

Come.

I want the safe emptied.

- Nothing else?
-No, sir.

Well, don't go, Podgers.

You can be of assistance to me.

You will count this for me.

So, the coining plant
is not in Summertrees house.

I know.
Your man has searched it.

HALE:
My man?

The worthy Podgers, huh?

The housekeeper is female,
the cook is French,

and as between the butler
and the valet --

Lucky guesswork --
that's your secret.

[ Chuckles ]
You have seen through me, huh?

Why did you first suspect
Summertrees?

His luxurious mode of living
and -- we're satisfied --

no visible source of income.

He calls himself an author.

HALE:
Oh, he makes no money from it.

Yet he locks himself up in his
study, day after day, writing.

All day?

He even makes his own lunch
in there on a spirit stove.

In other words,
he is invisible all day.

He has a fancy French meal
in the evening.

[ Laughs ]
Sensible man, eh?

Then he goes to bed,
and that's his life.

Except that he goes
to the bank every day

and deposits
a great deal of money.

And all in coin, all in coin.

- Which you have examined.
-HALE: Sergeant Carew?

Yes, sir,
I go through every consignment.

First-class fellow.

And you have repeatedly found
forged coins, huh?

Yes, sir.

HALE: The bank's damned sticky
about it.

Breach of confidence.

This isn't France, you know.

How is the money
brought to Summertrees' house?

HALE:
Man by the name of Simpson --

elderly chap, runs a curiosity
shop in Tottenham Court Road,

stays over night.

At the house every night?

HALE: Yes, then he goes back
to his shop in the morning,

where he spends the day.

Mm. Could the coining plant
be there?

HALE:
We don't know.

And if we raid it, well, we
might scare the whole gang off.

Naturellement.

I was wondering if you could get
in the shop for us.

Unofficially?

Oh, unofficially, of course.

No wonder the British Empire
is painted red on the map.

It is blushing.
Mm.

I shall search the house, too.

I've told you
there's nothing there.

So says Podgers, but he is not
an unscrupulous froggy.

Will you bring Podgers to me
tomorrow?

Very well.

This Summertrees
is an extremely clever man.

We must hope that he is
not also dangerous, huh?

Do the totals agree?

Yes, sir.

Good. You'll take it to the bank
for me tomorrow.

The bank, sir?

SUMMERTREES:
Why so surprised, Podgers?

A good servant
should be trusted.

Oh, yes, sir, I'm sure --

SUMMERTREES: And loyalty is
something I always reward.

Ohh!

Ohh!

[ Chuckles ]

Bonjour, Madame.

Bonjour, monsieur.

Ca Va?

Trés bien, merci.
Et vous?

Oh, bien, merci, oui.

Je sais -- votre Florentine-s.

[Chuckles] I could not live
a day without them.

Un moment, monsieur.

Oh, merci, Madame.

Mm-mm-mm-mmm!

Oh, delicious.

[ Indistinct conversations]

[ Door opens ]

[ Coughing 1

Good morning.

Are my Florentines ready,
please?

Yes, mademoiselle.
Un moment, s'il vous plait"t.

Mademoiselle.

Now I know
that prayers are answered.

I beg your pardon.

Oh, you do not remember,

oh, oh,
but we have more in common

than Madame's
delicious Florentines.

Is it your habit
to accost strange ladies?

I would not dream of it,
especially in London,

but we have met before.

Oh, you are mistaken.

No, no, no, no, no.

You are the mysterious young
lady who emerged from the fog,

a durable fog, outside
Lord Semptam's house, oui?

Oh. "Mysterious"?

Well, confidentially,

I was mystified to know
why such a charming young lady

would be calling upon

so confirmed an old bachelor
as Lord Semptam.

[ Chuckles ]

Voila', mademoiselle.

Ah.

Thank you.

VALMONT: Ah.
You share my weakness.

Nowhere else in London
can one obtain

such exquisite Florentine,
don't you think?

Excuse me.

Ah, but now that you know
I am not an improper gentlemen,

won't you join me in a cup of
Madame's perfect coffee, hmm?

Here are your Florentine,
monsieur.

Ah, bon.
Pardon.

Merci, Madame.

[ Indistinct conversation]

Mademoiselle!

[Door closes]

Mademoiselle?

Ohh.

Unspeakable fog.

Madame, may I see the coin
the young lady left?

These, monsieur?

VALMONT:
Oui.

Voila.

WOMAN:
But, monsieur --

A souvenir, huh?

That is carrying Ia galanterie
a little too far.

Mm.

Ah, good morning, Hale.

- Monsieur Valmont.
-Bonjour.

My man.

- Podgers.
-Podgers.

Podgers, good morning, Podgers.
Do sit down, both of you.

Oh, Podgers,
you're out of breath.

Have you been chasing
some miscreant, huh?

I had to rush from the bank,
sir.

The master sent me there
with his money.

He did? Ah!
A truly artistic touch.

I must say you look every inch
the butler, Podgers.

Thank you, sir.

We know a bit over here,
Monsieur Valmont.

Now, Podgers,
I want to ask you some things.

You're a sharp, observant man.

What strikes you as unusual
in that house?

Well, sir, Mr. Summertrees

do stick to his writing
pretty close.

Hard at it from, what,

9:00 in the morning
till 7:00 at night, say?

- PODGERS: Yes, sir.
-Anything else?

PODGERS: Well, sir, he is one
for reading the newspapers, sir.

- Oh, which newspapers?
-PODGERS: All of them, sir.

The morning papers are put out
for him every morning

and evening papers as they come,

and he takes them all upstairs
to his study.

Striking fact. Ah.

You've reported this
to your chief, of course.

No, sir.

But it is vital.

Oh, come, now.
Everyone reads the papers.

All of them?

- Well.
-No!

What happens
when he has finished with them?

I take them down to the cellar
for burning, sir.

Then you can safely remove
one day's supply

and deliver them to me, eh?

Oui, bon.

Now, I want to ask you
about this clerk, this Simpson.

What time does he arrive
at the house?

Prompt at 6:00, sir.

VALMONT:
Does he ring or let himself in?

He has a door key, sir.

VALMONT:
How does he carry the money'?

PODGERS: In a locked leather
bag, sir, chained to his wrist.

He takes it upstairs
and gives it to Mr. Summertrees.

VALMONT:
You mean he hands it to him?

PODGERS: He leaves it
outside the door and knocks.

You see, Mr. Summertrees
mustn't be disturbed.

VALMONT: Oh, it might drive away
his inspiration -- quite.

And?

PODGERS: Simpson goes upstairs
to his room.

VALMONT:
Which is on the next floor?

PODGERS:
Yes, sir, just above the study.

VALMONT:
I understand.

Where do you
and the other servants sleep?

On the fourth floor, sir.

No doubt Mr. Summertrees
is so wrapped up in his work

that he does not bring the money
into the room right away, huh?

Not for awhile, sir,

on the few occasions
I've been able to observe.

As much as half an hour?

Oui.

Does the clerk ever dine
with his master?

No, sir, since he doesn't eat
in the house at all.

Oh, he has no breakfast,
yet he stays till --

10:00 a.m., sir.

And his master has breakfast
at...

9:30 a.m., sir.

And after breakfast?

The master locks himself
in the study, sir.

- At?
-9:30 a.m., sir.

Oh, these recurring half-hours.

And he stays there all day,

never rings
nor asks for anything?

No.

Well, Hale,
the case is perfectly plain.

What's perfectly plain?

Summertrees is no coiner,

nor is he linked
with any bank of coiners.

Well, damnation.
Well, what is he, then?

Oh, well, that will open
another line of inquiry.

He may well be
the most honest of men

who wishes to hide
the connection with his shop

because he lives among the
aristocrats of Park Lane, no?

What rot.

He's not married, lives alone,
belongs to no clubs,

never goes anywhere,
never entertains.

He's got nothing
to be ashamed about.

Well argued.

All this,
and you tell us nothing.

Au contraire.
I have told you he is no coiner.

Well, I know you say he isn't.

It is the same thing.

HALE: [Chuckles]
Of all the conceited --

Do you want my assistance?

Your assistance --

Then you, Podgers, will take me
to the Summertrees house now.

Now?

Now.

But Summertrees is there.

VALMONT:
I assure you he will not know.

You must be mad, Valmont.

Not without method.

I'll be hung, drawn,
and quartered if you're caught.

If I am caught, Inspector Hale,
you may arrest me yourself.

I shall truly deserve it.

Summertrees' study.

Shh.

Yes, yes, yes.

His servants?

All out except the housekeeper
downstairs ironing.

Bon.

The clerk's bedroom.

Bon.

Shh.

Don't shush me.

I suppose you think
I'll clean the silver.

You know
he mustn't be disturbed.

Then I shan't hang about.

Where are you going?

To Mr. Simpson's bedroom.

You can't.

- Can't, Mr. Podgers?
-The door's stuck.

Then I shall open it.

Kindly stand aside, Mr. Podgers.

[ Thumping 1

Now look what you've done.

Oh.

Sorry, Mr. Summertrees.

Sir.

She's gone?

- Well, I'll be blowed.
-Come in.

But I heard --

You heard me searching the room
and opening the safe,

which, as you see, is empty.

Voila.

Uh-huh.

Now, regardez.

A secret staircase.

Come.

You've been tiptoeing past
an empty room for two weeks,

you know.

- But where's --
-Come along.

Be careful.

It is steep.

Now, close the door...

...comme sf.

Voila.

Now...

But -- But Summertrees.

Oh, he will come back.

And so, I daresay,
will Mr. Simpson.

Good afternoon.

Good afternoon, sir.
Can I help you?

No, no, thank you.

I would just like to browse,
you know?

Carry on, sir.
Carry on.

Merci.

- ROGERS: Hello, Mr. Simpson.
-Good morning, Rogers.

[Coins clinking]

I'll see you tomorrow, then,
Mr. Simpson.

How much is this crucifix?

Seven and sixpence, sir.

Ah, seven and six.

I Will take it.

Un moment.

Here is a sovereign.

Thank you, sir.

One sovereign.

[Coins clinking]

That's right, seven and six.
10, 1, 5.

Merci.

-[ Door closes]
-Shan't be long, Tyrrell.

No, please, please go ahead.

Oh, thank you, sir.
Excuse me.

Bon.

Whew!

[Coins clinking]

It's rather a pretty
little picture, oui.

See you tomorrow.

Oh, I say...

[ Chuckles ]

This is rather nice.

Oh, yes, sir.

It's a real bargain
at five shillings.

Five shillings?

Let me see. Oh.

-[ Bell dinging]
-Milady.

There we are. Uh-oh.

A five-shilling piece exactly.

Shall I wrap your purchases,
sir?

No, no, don't bother.
Thank you so much.

- Excuse me, sir.
-Bien.

Good afternoon.

[Humming]

So...
[Clears throat]

...there are no dud coins
at the shop?

No. Simpson took
my forged five-shilling piece

without a murmur

and gave me
a perfectly genuine coin

in exchange for my sovereign.

- Mm.
-Mm-hmm.

To your satisfaction?

Mm. Very nice.

Un beignet de grenouiHe.

Mmm.
Nice, tender rabbit.

VALMONT:
It's frog.

Frog fritters.

A little effort of mine
while Phelps is out on business.

Help yourself.
I'm so glad you like them.

You know,
I could not work with a man

who did not appreciate
my cooking.

Uh-huh.

So, this shop must be
a collecting depot.

VALMONT:
Oh, our', but for whom'?

The coiners.

Oh, Hale, Hale,
you are incorrigible, you know.

Do try the Puligny-Montrachet.
It's absolutely divine.

HALE:
But Simpson --

VALMONT: Simpson and Summertrees
are the same man.

Simpson goes into the bedroom.

He takes off his hat.
He takes off his coat.

He removes his disguise,

and Summertrees comes out
of the study, and vice versa.

Beautiful.

The scoundrel.
He must be a criminal.

But not a coiner.

Well, what, then?

During my labors in the kitchen,

you had time to examine those
papers that Podgers sent, hmm?

Deuced if I could find anything.

Ah, you were distracted,
no doubt,

by the delicious odor
of my frogs, huh?

Bon.
Now I will show.

All these papers
have similar advertisements

signed by the same name --
this name.

Mm. "Absent-mindedness --
a curse and its cure.

Restore your memory.

Write to: Doctor Willoughby."

Damnation!

Exactly, at the address
of the curio shop

in Tottenham Court Road.

And here is the pamphlet
that Simpson was sending out.

A cure for absent-mindedness?

Well, well,
what does it all mean?

You still do not know?

- Well, no.
-Oh, mon Dieu.

I wonder what made
Britain great.

[Clicks tongue]
I will proceed.

Regardez.

Now, look.
I shall write.

"Dear Dr. Willoughby,

I am a very absent-minded man,

and I would be glad
of your pamphlet."

Bon?

"My handicap is a great failing
because I collect --"

oh, uh -- "first editions."

- First editions?
-Why not?

"Yours faithfully --"

Who shall I be for a change,
huh?

I know.
"Alport Webster."

- Alport Webster?
-Oui.

FRED:
I'll be off now, gov.

[Keys jingling]

Keep out some of that champagne
for us.

[ Inhales deeply, coughing]

Why did you get me here?

Well, Lord Semptam's library
is always worth a visit,

especially to an amateur of art
like myself.

Now, look here, Valmont --

For instance,

the rare and fascination art
of cameo cutting,

medallion engraving,
the design of ancient coins.

HALE:
Damn your art books.

You'd be better reading this.

Carew's been found in the river,
murdered.

My best man, and as nice a chap
as you could hope to meet.

I know.
I have seen it.

I am not playing games with you,
Mr. Hale.

I promise you will get your man.
I promise.

Now, look.

- Map of London?
-Oui.

The dots represent
all the places

where forged coins
have been recovered.

But you will observe --

The one area
where none have been found.

Good for you, Hale.

[ Doorknob rattling]

[ Laughs 1

Don't kill him.

Not yet.

[Clock ticking]

[Chimes ringing]

How fortunate
that the artists of London

have made Chelsea their quarter.

So close to the river.

Well, who sent you?

[ Groaning ]

GAUNTLET: Do you know
why he doesn't talk, Joe?

He wants to go on modeling.

It is the greatest moment
of this guttersnipe's life,

to be my model.

Talk, you scum!

[ Rhythmic knocking on door]

It's Fred.

You've got the silver?

Who is he?

That is what we must,
at all costs, find out.

I'll make him talk.

Perhaps, Fred,
but wait a moment.

I want to know who sent you.

Gah, best kill him right off.

No. We must know
if anyone is onto us.

Watch him talk.

You must find Inspector Hale,
you understand?

Oui, and give him my message.

PHELPS:
Aah!

Aah. Aah.

[ Gasps 1

[ Thumping 1

[ Muffled screaming]

Phelps!

Aah!

Aah!

[ Indistinct shouting]

[whimpering]

Sixpence if you'll hurry!
It's life or death!

Aye, it's life and death for
my horse if he breaks his leg.

A shilling, damn you.

Governor, you don't understand.
I love this horse.

I love this horse
like a brother.

Half a crown.

[Hooves clopping]

Giddap, there!
Giddap!

Keep still, you cur.

That, I believe,
was the appellation

with which you favored me, sir.

That will do, Phelps.

Go and make yourself look more
like a gentleman's gentleman.

Yes, sir.

How did you do it?

Inspector Hale remarked

that the coins were the work
of a real artist.

Oh.

Oh.

I know that coining
of such quality

demands the art of a highly
skilled medallion engraver.

My friend, I am a genius.

You know,
I'm inclined to agree with you.

The world owes me something.

And you took it.
How understandable.

Valmont, Phelps.

Oh!

I see I needn't have hurried.

Voila.

- Ah!
-Uh-huh.

And here are your coiners
and your murderers, Inspector.

HALE:
Right.

Take them.

Come on.

[ Grunting ]

Alas, dear friend, with me,

even art does not come
before justice.

Off With him.

Well, Valmont...

[ Chuckles ]
...the case is closed.

On the contrary.
There is still Mr. Summertrees.

But you said he was innocent.

No, no, I said he was no coiner.

Why do we want him, then?

Because he is a criminal
more subtle, more audacious,

more devilishly ingenious
than any I have ever known.

[Piano playing]

[Sighs]

Mmm.

Mmm.

[ Mid-tempo classical music
Plays 1

Oh, mon Dieu.

Yes, yes, I'm in.

Step this way, please.

[ Dissonant notes plays]

Miss Mackail?

Yes.

Oh, but --
but how remiss of me to --

Please sit down.

Thank you.

May I know how you found me?

Found you, Mr. Webster?

Mr. Webster?
Ah, yes, of course!

You are Mr. Alport Webster,
are you not?

My name is on the door,
is it not?

I must confess myself astonished
that Mr. Webster...

ls none other than the gentleman

who, with the purest
of intentions,

offered you a cup of coffee?

[ Both chuckle]

Shall I admit that I, too,
am astonished, hmm?

Ah, un moment.

A Florentine.

Thank you.

I cannot resist them.

I know. I know.
[ Chuckles ]

And, now, Miss Mackail,
in what can I serve you?

Are you at all interested
in first editions, Mr. Webster?

Oh.

Oh, first editions, the one
thing I am interested in.

What do you think of this?

Oh.

Dr. Johnson's "Rasselas."

Oh, but this must be worth
every penny of £25.

It has been valued at £30.

Yes?

But if you wished, it might be
yours for the lower sum.

Extraordinary.

Would you mind telling me

how you came to be possessed
of this book?

It is the property
of a friend of mine

who permits me
to dispose of it --

at a small profit, of course.

[ Chuckling ]
Of course, of course.

May I know his name?

Mr. Ralphe Summertrees
of Park Lane.

Oh, Park Lane, indeed.

You may inquire of him
if you wish.

I'm sure he would not hesitate
to say a word in my favor.

I'm sure.
I would not dream of it.

£25.

Perhaps so great an outlay
would be inconvenient.

You know, I am so -- How you --
absent-minded, you know?

My affairs are in
some confusion.

Well, I know it is often so.

I have a backer

who, in such cases,
will advance the sum required.

Really?

MACKAIL:
All that you would have to do

would be to pay a certain sum
each week.

Oh?
Say, well...

Would 10 shillings be too much?

Oh, no, no, that's perfect,
Miss Mackail, perfect.

Your purse
is on the mantelpiece.

Oh, dear. I shall forget
my head next, huh?

Will it be necessary to sign
any form or agreement

for the total amount?

MACKAIL: There need be
no formalities, Mr. Webster.

Your honesty is plain to behold.

As yours is, Miss Mackail.

Voila.

Thank you.

I shall call on you this day
next week.

Might we not, in the meantime,
meet to discuss books and...

Mr. Webster,
I have my good name to preserve.

Oh, of course.

Pardon. Oui.

It's a good fit? Bon.

Look behind the counter.

I will go to the alcove
where the desk is.

Oh?

Look here.

Nothing over here, sir.

Could you bring your lamp
in here?

It's so dark.
I can't see a thing.

[ Footsteps approaching]

[ Doorknob rattles ]

Bon.

These are perfectly ordinary
account books --

daybook, journal, ledger.

What's this?

Oh! Mr. Rogers...

our friend Mr. Tyrrell...

and Miss Mackail.

Aha.

Four columns -- date, address,

amount of money, objects sold.

And here I am, you see.

Mr. Alport Webster,
address, £25,

first-edition "Rasselas,"

and here in this little box
at the end,

the amount to be paid weekly --
10 shillings.

Sounds a perfectly
respectable business, sir.

Oui, with some very
distinguished clients, huh?

Lord Semptam.

"1395."

Pass me the others quickly,
would you?

1894.

VALMONT:
Merci.

1893.

VALMONT: This is the one
I want to look at.

Now, then, where are we?

Ah! Here we are.

Here we are.

Oh!

Brilliant.

What audacity, huh?

PHELPS:
Sir?

Lord Semptam bought
a Sheraton writing table

three years ago for £50,

and he's been paying £2 a week
ever since.

And he will go on paying forever

if that young lady goes on
calling on him.

[ Chuckles ]
It is a conception of genius.

PHELPS:
But indubitably criminal, sir.

Yes.

Oh, Phelps, she has
the loveliest gray-blue eyes.

Valmont, you tell me
that Summertrees is a swindler.

No, no, no, no, no,
one needs a less crude word.

He is unique.

Do you have the evidence?

Are you free this evening, hmm?

You're not gonna cook me snails
for dinner?

[Laughs ] Splendid idea.
No, no, no, no.

You must look rather impressive

in your inspector's uniform,
huh?

Bless my soul, he wants me
to dress up for it.

My dear friend,
you must do exactly as I say.

Oh, I beg your pardon.

I expected to meet Mr. Webster.

There you are, Mr. Webster.

I did not notice you at first.

Miss Mackail,
you have heard perhaps

the name Eugene Valmont, hmm?

No. Should I have?

[ Chuckles ]

Phelps.

Sit down, Miss Mackail, please.

You have called on Lord Semptam
this week?

Oh, you should know.

You are presumably
a friend of his.

And collected £2 from him?

This gentleman is plainly
a police inspector.

What are you, Mr. Webster?

Or Monsieur Valmont?

You shall learn
who Eugene Valmont is.

In 1893, you sold Lord Semptam
a Sheraton table?

Well, yes.

- For £50?
-I do not remember.

You will refresh your memory.

Lord Semptam has paid
for that table six times over

and is still paying.

Of what are you accusing me,
Monsieur Valmont?

Of criminal fraud.

Is it not you who are guilty
of criminal fraud,

in presenting yourself to me
under a false name,

on false pretenses?

[ Chuckles ]

Inspector, can I bring charges
against this man?

He can only have obtained
this sheet by burglary.

He has grossly deceived me

and used his foreign wiles
to undermine my virtue,

in vain, may I say.

But why on earth should
Lord Semptam go on paying?

Because he is absent-minded,

because all the victims
of this gang are absent-minded.

[ Chuckles ]

Now, you will change your tone,
Miss Mackail.

You have changed yours,
Monsieur Valmont.

Only yesterday you adored me.

Justice comes first, dear lady.

Or perhaps that was part
of your gross deception.

Alas, no, no, no,
it was genuine.

[Clicks tongue]

Hale, you saw these newspapers,
huh?

A cure for absent-mindedness.

Oui. The poor fools
who answered the advertisements

were visited by this young lady

and the other five members
of the gang

and fell into the trap.

The gang took advantage
of their absent-mindedness

to collect payments forever.

Where is your proof?

Oh, yes, Valmont,
we need evidence.

The evidence is in the records
kept by Mr. Summertrees --

or Simpson or Dr. Willoughby,
the man of three identities.

It is not illegal for a man
to carry on a business

under an assumed name,

nor to sign pamphlets
under a pseudonym.

Ah! So, you admit the existence
of the pamphlet, huh?

The core of the whole fraud!

Fraud, indeed.

Mr. Summertrees
has a harmless fad.

He believes
that absent-mindedness

can be cured by self-hypnosis.

Like many others,
he's put his beliefs into print.

But Lord Semptam's payments?

His lordship
is a frequent customer of ours.

We keep a sort of
running contract with him

by which he pays us £2 a week.

I can prove it.

Oh. How?

This is my visiting list,

but you also need
what we term our encyclopedia.

That contains a full record
of all our transactions

and will bear out my words.

Very ingenious.

And how may one see
this indispensable volume, huh?

Simply by letting me use
your portable telephone

and asking Mr. Summertrees
for it.

Oh, no, you don't.

[ Chuckles ]
I know the number.

Ah, Central,
get me Park Lane 140.

Dear lady,
you would do better to confess.

I would be so pleased
to help you obtain clemency.

What a capital idea,
Monsieur Valmont,

a sort of absent-minded league.

[ Chuckles ]

It is you, not I,
who have a criminal mind.

HALE: Is that the residence
of -- Oh, it's you, Podgers.

Hale here.
Now, listen to me.

I want you to go
to Mr. Summertrees

and tell him Miss Mackail
wants the encyclopedia for 1893.

Now, if he won't give it to you,
arrest him.

Bring him and the volume here
to Mr. Valmont's flat.

Now, be quick about it.

Right.

He'll be here in half an hour.

Must we wait that long
to prove my innocence?

We shall use it
to prove your guilt.

Pardon.

Come.
Lord Semptam is waiting for us.

Lord Semptam,
has this young lady sold you

any other articles
besides the Sheraton table?

Young lady?

Now, where have I
seen you before?

But she's been calling on you
every week

for the last three years.

Bless my soul.

How kind of you to remember
a lonely old man.

It was to collect money.

Ah, for some good cause,
no doubt --

In October -- In October 1893,
she sold you that table.

Ah!
Is that how I came by it?

Oui. Has she sold you
any other articles?

Mm.
[ Chuckles ]

Have you, young lady?

Indeed, yes, Lord Semptam.

It appears she has.

No doubt you have kept
an inventory, hmm, receipts?

Inventory, receipts?

Good heavens, it would
confuse me to keep such things.

Do you mean you can neither
confirm nor deny her story?

Oh, please spare me
all these questions.

I cannot remember every trifle.

Oh, dear.

Just imagine him
in the witness box.

[ Chuckles ]

Nobody has called?

No, sir.

Hmm.

Oh, please sit down.

Podgers is taking his time.

While we are waiting,
Monsieur Valmont,

may I remind you
that you owe me 10 shillings?

Oh!

You -- You are incorrigible.

Voila.

- Thank you.
-Mm.

Monsieur, are you connected
with Scotland Yard?

[ Chuckles ]
Not likely.

You have no official standing
as a detective, then?

Only my reputation.

-[ Telephone rings]
-Ah, Summertrees.

Hello?
Yes, speaking.

What?
Out of what?

Can't hear you, Podgers.

Out of print?

The encyclopedia's out of print?

Mr. Summertrees says so?

All right, all right.

VALMONT:
What does this mean, huh?

That is a criminal offense!

I think not, monsieur.

English law.
She's got you there.

You do not belong
to Scotland Yard.

You had no right to it.

If it had been
in Mr. Hale's possession,

I should not have dared
burn evidence,

but you stole a confidential
document from my master

and I thought it best
to destroy it.

It was a signal, Valmont.

How brilliantly you explain
the obvious, Hale.

She must have arranged
with Summertrees

that if she ever telephoned
through the word "encyclopedia,"

he'd burn the records.

Oh, you've got to face it,
old man.

Every scrap of evidence
has vanished.

The farce is over, gentlemen.

Either arrest me
or unlock that door.

Or I promise you the newspapers

will make it hot
for both of you.

Newspapers?

Unlock the door for her, Phelps.

Good evening, Mr. Hale.

Good evening,
Monsieur Eugene Valmont.

I shall give myself the pleasure
of calling on you next week

for my 10 shillings.

Ohh!

[Sighs]

Ohh.

Well, so much for justice.

This time next week.

You know, with me,
cher camarade,

there are some things
that come before justice.