All language subtitles for Lovejoy s01e06 To Sleep No More.eng

(Man) Who'll start me at 100?
100 for a start.

100 I'm bid. 100 I'm bid.

Who'll give me 10, who'll make it 110?
I'm looking for 110.

100? 110 I'm bid. 110?

Who'll make it 20?
Come on, gentlemen, who'll make it 20?

120 I'm bid. It's with you, madam, at 120.

Do I hear 50? 150 anywhere?

Come on, gentlemen, that's a genuine antique.
They don't come up every day. 150?

150 I'm bid.

Come on, gentlemen, I'm looking for 350.

350 anywhere?

Don't lose it, madam,
don't lose it for another 50.

350 anywhere? 350 I'm bid.

At 350. Who'll make it four?
I'm looking for four.

Any more? At 350.

Are you all done? At 350? At 350...

Lovejoy.

(Smattering of applause)

(Charlie calls out)

All right, Eric,
back to the workshop.

Make a start on these legs. Gentle sanding, now.

Well, there's time for a quick cuppa?

"In the strictest confidence," Sam said.
Besides, you hate the sight of cricket.

Well, so do you. But I like
a nice cream tea now and then.

Life is not all cream teas, Eric,
you'll find that out.

Watch that upholstery.

(Inaudible)

(Applause)

Oh!

(Gasping)

It's Sam Wendell, isn't it?

Yes, he's supposed to be meeting me.

He's gone to meet his maker now.

Before he ruined my fifty.

"Ruined my fifty"!

That's people in the antique game for you.

Warm, decent, sentimental

and soft hide as a cricket ball.

Whatever Sam had wanted to tell me
I thought I'd never know, but I was wrong.

Even in death he'd managed to drag me
into a rather nasty hassle.

Put it another way,
the usual tail of lust, greed,

cunning and treachery
in our distinguished trade.

Ah! Lovejoy, your shout.

How much has he had?

- Not a lot
- For him.

You're supposed to get drunk after a funeral.

I've had sufficient to keep me warm
at the graveside.

I'm much more worried about
that frightfully mismatched outfit.

Is that the best you could do?

Yes, well, at least the colors are correct.

And I won't be frightening the flowers
with my scent.

Let's change the subject, Lovejoy,
a large Scotch.

Morning, Lovejoy. Fit?

I'm never better, Charlie.
It's nice of you to inquire.

My horoscope must foretell disaster.

- Someone's got a bone to pick with you.
- Who?

Arnold Nelson.

You remember Arnold,
a distant cousin on my late wife's side.

Thick as two short planks
but very nasty when peeved.

Why should he be peeved with me?

Question mark
over those plates you sold him.

- I told him you'd be in here about now.
- Oh thanks, Charlie, very kind of you.

I wouldn't linger if I was you, man.

No, not a nice man, Arnold.

(Charlie) Au revoir, Lovejoy.

Or is it, uh...

goodbye?

(Man) Lovejoy?

Arnold! Hear you're peeved.

Those plates you sold me.

Vintage spode, you said.

Yes, beautiful craftsmanship,
local millionaire.

Yes, F.W. Woolworth.

I had them valued,
they're shammers, Lovejoy.

Some bright spark
did a sandblasting job on them.

Yes, well, if you'd been
a bit of a brighter spark, Arnold,

you'd have brought this up
when the deal went down.

I never swore they were vintage spode.

If you recall. I said,
"Hello, these could be spode,"

and you bunged me the cash and went
tooling down the A45 pleased as punch.

Tell me, precisely
where did this transaction occur?

(Lovejoy) King's Lynn, Tuesday last.

What ruddy difference does it make where?

None, none at all I just wanted to paint
the entire picture, as it were.

I'll paint your nose
all over your face, mate. As it were.

Knock it off, Arnold,
We don't want to get beer...

- Scotch!
- I mean Scotch, all down my brief's shirt front.

The deal was done, fair and square.

It's not my fault if you can't tell the difference
between a Myson and a manhole cover.

Ooh. Could be a lot of blood.

(Arnold) Money back or I'll sort you out.

Sorry, Arnold, money's spent.

Really!

(Groans in pain)

Come on, come on.

- Ooh!
- (Glass smashing)

Who says they're never there
when you need them?

Morning, Officer.

A little misunderstanding, Commander.
This android struck my chum.

Oh, yes? Is that true?

- Sadly, yes, Sergeant I was reluctant...
- I wasn't talking to you.

I won't waste my time
talking to any of them.

I'll be the judge of that.

Perhaps I can help, Sergeant.
Lovejoy was just trying to help Mr. Gimbert.

This oaf accused Mr. Gimbert of defrauding him.

He then attacked Mr. Gimbert quite viciously

and brave Lovejoy, seeing that poor Charles
was in dire need of assistance...

- Wait a minute you.
- Outside, you two.

- Look, I wasn't involved.
- I said outside!

Thank you, Officer.

Man born that is born of a woman
has but a short time to live,

and is full of misery.

He cometh up and is cut down like a flower,

he fleeth as it were a shadow
and never continueth in one stay.

In the midst of life we are in death.

Of whom may we seek for succor
but of thee, O Lord,

who for our sins are justly displeased.

Yet, O Lord God, most holy,
O Lord most mighty,

- O holy and most...
- Was he really such a great forger?

Copyist. They're only a forger
when they're caught.

He made some delightful things,
stuff that made you weep.

But he died without a penny,
that's what makes me weep.

A little decorum, please.

I wish he'd hurry up
and we could get to the drinks.

Would you like a little something?

Yes, a little whisky to lift the spirits.

This isn't a party, you know.
Now, in my opinion you've had quite sufficient.

That's all right, Mrs. Cameron.

I'm sure Sam would hate to think
that you were being stingy.

Aye. Another one who liked his drink.

Sam always loved that old church, you know.

It's good to think of him there.

Among some of the work
he enjoyed doing so much.

I had a lot of respect for Sam.

He was one of a special breed.
Genuine craftsman.

He could have worked at Hatton Garden,
you know.

Certainly could.

Sam always valued your advice.

Said you could tell a genuine antique
just by the feeling, by intuition.

Hm, silver snuff box.

(Gentle tune plays)

Ah, it's charming.

I just wondered if it was...
Well, you know, special?

Samuel Pemberton, Birmingham,
late 18th century.

It's a beautiful fake.

It's one of Sam's finest pieces.

Sam's special present. It's enough for me.

Listen, Maggie, how are you fixed?

Don't you worry yourself, lovey,
I'll manage, I always have.

Yes, but things get tougher.

There's some insurance, we own the cottage

and I've got the still got the barrow
down Friary Street.

Yeah?

Anything else of Sam's
you'd like me to take a look at?

No, thanks,
I've sent some stuff to the sale room.

I'll get my share of whatever it's worth.

Afternoon, Lovejoy.

- Good of you to pay respects.
- Only too pleased.

If you want me to,
I'll run you home now, Mrs. Wendell.

Thank you, your lordship.
Goodbye, Lovejoy.

Sorry about the box.

Good morning, Woody.

I'd like four burnt bangers,

three bacon cinders and two raw eggs.
In the other words, the usual.

- You want toast?
- Please two slices, whole-wheat.

Don't be stupid.

Oh, cup of typhoid.

Hello, Pilsen. You still got that scroll?

May the Lord send a blessing
on thy morning.

Thanks, Pilsen, I needed that.

May heaven bring grace on Lovejoy
and our holy meeting.

Yes, well, I'd rather he have
you hand me the scroll, what's the price?

Cantonese ceremonial dragon kite...
or no sale.

Where the hell am I going to get a Cantonese
dragon kite? How about a small jug?

Get knotted.

It's a bit risky in here
but you do look ravishing, Dandy.

Thank you. Yesterday was so depressing
I just had to spot something chic today.

A cup of tea with lemon, Woody.

Sam's widow told you
she was left with nothing?

Just about.

That's not the story I heard last night.

There are rumors that Sam
had amassed quite a small fortune.

If even half the rumors in this game were true
we'd all be rich.

Yes, I know. But this rumor has persisted
for quite some time.

Sam boasted that one day soon,

he and his wife
would have plenty of money,

enough money to retire
to the south of France no less.

A dreamer.

Like us all.
Mine's a pied a terre in Birmingham.

(Jane) This is a slum.

That last house was the best kept village
in East Anglia competition.

But I like the natural look.
Funky rustic, I call it.

Well, if it isn't the president
of this vast international conglomerate.

Between you and me, your ladyship,
the only genuine antique around here

is that car!

Cheeky sod! She's practically
pawing the ground, ready to be off.

- (Laughs)
- When you change the tires.

Eh?

Oh, great.

Can I help you?

Yeah, I do hope so.

I'm looking for an English bible box.
Oak, with a desk type lid.

No, I'm afraid I haven't got one.

But I could try and find you one
in a couple of days.

That would be most satisfactory.
I'll just browse, if you don't mind.

Yes, of course.

I've just been checking up.

I'm fairly sure we can get you
a bible box from somewhere.

If we have to beg, borrow or steal.

Thank you, Janey.

No, thank you.

Did you read Kelly
on restoring oil paintings?

Well, no, I thought I'd wait for the film.

(Laughs)

Only oils you care about
you get from that bloody bike of yours.

Nobody cares about excellence anymore.

It's all plastic and animated crud.

All the old arts and crafts are dying out.

Such as Sam's.

Yeah, that was a gifted character for you.
Dead ordinary till you saw him at work.

Then his eyes twinkled and his hands
became graceful as a dancer's.

Completely in command.

(Eric) How come he was
permanently skint then?

Eric, you have as much feeling for antiques

as Lucrezia Borgia had for catering.

Oh, you did pick up that embroidery box
and sell it for me, didn't you?

Are you taking up embroidery, Lovejoy?

Good. About time you had a hobby.

(Bell rings)

Is Lovejoy at home?

(Eric) Uh, Lovejoy?

Hello, Maggie.

The snuff box was on my living room table,
I'm certain of that.

And now it's gone.

I know you said it was a fake
but it meant a lot to me.

Sam gave it me about five years ago.

He said,

"Maggie, I haven't got much, love,
but this little box is worth a fortune."

That's all he said.

How could it be a fake and worth a fortune?

He said he would explain one day then...

Did Sam ever tell you about any of his deals?

Shady deals, you mean? No.

You know Sam and me, we married late.

He never talked about his work
and I never asked.

I'm not as innocent as he thought.
I knew he was a forger.

- Copyist, love.
- Same thing.

Never knock a copyist.

Even the great Turner himself
started out as one.

And his copies are now worth
more than the originals.

Was there anyone suspicious
hanging around?

Perhaps someone you didn't recognize
at the funeral?

- No.
- Have you had any visitors?

No.

Well, there was the priest.

- Priest?
- Old friend of Sam's.

Said he wanted to pay his respects,
offer me solace.

Charlie! A word in your ear?

You've got a flaming nerve
showing your face round here

after the bloody stroke
you pulled the other day.

Now fair's fair, you were only there
to see me get spread across the walls.

Sorry about the tie,
I'll pay for the dry cleaning.

Arnold's not through with you yet,
not by a long chalk.

So it's some consolation to me that there is still
a wall waiting for you to be spread across.

Then you better pay for my dry cleaning.
Can I ask you something?

It depends.

Sam Wendell's widow,
she sent some stuff in for auction.

That's right, went through a couple of days ago.

Nothing very spectacular,
considering Sam's reputation.

Did anybody pay particular attention to the gear,
any one person buy a lot of the stuff?

- Mr. Gimbert.
- (Lovejoy) Hello, Fred.

Morning, Lovejoy.

That Wendell lot,
did most of it go to one bidder?

I don't think so.

Here and there, I seem to recall.
I'll look it up in the book.

You can check but I think there was a bloke
showing a lot of interest before the auction.

Yeah, he was a priest.

Helen, my favorite alibi, can
I buy you a drink?

Don't, I'm not in the mood.
I'm having a terrible day,

I've got a splitting headache,
I've got to collect all this junk.

Oh, and just to make my life perfect,

I've been ripped off
by a wretched little man in a dog collar.

- Dog collar?
- Yes, he's a priest.

Not again.

Well, another exciting day comes to an end.

When I leave your employ, Lovejoy,

I'm gonna know nothing at all about antiques
but I'll make a really good filing clerk.

Your services are indispensable, Eric.

Oh, you know that spare tire I put on for you?

- A superb job.
- Flat.

Oh, no! That means
I've got to fork out for a new one.

And I'll have to resume
my duty as a chauffeur.

Don't complain, Eric,
I'm making you a superb supper.

- Are you?
- Yeah. How you like your fried bread?

- What is it?
- An eclipse.

(Banging on door)

(Whispers) You don't know
who I am or where I am.

(Banging on door)

- Well, where are you then?
- Not here.

(Banging continues)

- Who are you?
- Eric.

And you?

Never mind who I am. Where's Lovejoy?

Oh, he's not here. He's gone away.

His car's here.

Oh, well, he had a puncture, you see,
and he, uh, had to take the bus.

- Bus? To where?
- Up north. He's, uh, gone to a sale.

In a stately home.
An auction in a stately home.

In Scotland.

- When will he be back?
- Well, it's hard to say. A day or two.

They've got the snow plows out.

(Arnold) Snow plows?

It's summer.

Not in Scotland.

Well, you tell him I'm looking for him.

All right. Shall I say who called?

He'll know.

(Whispers) Very good, Eric.

- Very well handled.
- I'm getting used to it with you.

(Phone)

Bury St Edmunds Old People's Twilight Home.

(Man) Is that not Lovejoy Antiques?

Who's this?

My name is Fred Bigelow.

Oh, sorry, Fred,
I thought you were someone else.

You lead a very exciting life, Mr. Lovejoy.

Too exciting at times,
what can I do for you?

I was over at Dedham this afternoon
on an errand for Mr. Gimbert, and I saw him.

- Saw who?
- The priest, the one you were asking about.

He's staying at Rosery,
As in flowers, not beads.

0h, thanks, Fred. I owe you one.

Good morning.

Good morning, young lady.

I believe you have a colleague of mine
staying here, a fellow brother of the cloth?

Oh, yes, Father Peel.
I'm afraid he's not in at the moment.

I think he said he'd be back for lunch.

Then perhaps I'll wait.

The lounge is just through there.

- May I have some coffee?
- Certainly.

Oh, and a large brandy, please.

- That's funny.
- What?

Well father Peel's Catholic and you're Anglican.

Yes?

And we're both members
of the ecumenical council.

I'll get your coffee.

(Hooting, tires screeching)

(Hooting)

Well, well, well!

If Father Peel doesn't turn out to be
Smiley O'Reilly.

When did they spring you, your holiness?

Last heard of, you were meditating
in a cell Chelmsford.

I might have known you'd stick
your beak in sometime, Lovejoy.

Robbing widows is a new low even for you.
What's the fascination about the box?

- What box?
- This box.

What's so special about it?

- That special?
- Give.

Now you're not gonna use that, sunshine,

not a third-rate tea leaf like you.

Hand over that box, Lovejoy,

or you'll soon find out.

Didn't realize it meant that much to you.

(Loud bang)

See you at bible class.

Burn rubber, Catchpole!

(Clattering)

Who the hell is this dodgy priest?

Smiley O'Reilly. Cheerful little soul.

Been a guest of Her Majesty
for the last three years. Thanks.

He's the kind of fellow who'd take money
from a collection box.

Called a foreigner, when a forger
makes an extra one for himself.

Why was he so keen
to get his hands on it?

I don't know. It must be drastic
if a toerag like Smiley is using a shooter.

Take that dog collar off, Lovejoy.
The saintly look doesn't suit you.

Really?

(Gentle music)

(Music continues)

It's Bach.

- Bach?
- Mm.

Why on earth would Sam choose Bach?

Bach, Bach, Black Sheep was more his line.

Well, maybe he wanted something
to match the beauty of his craftsmanship.

- What's the name of it?
- Oh, I know it.

Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue.

Oh, it's lovely, isn't it?

Um...

Sleepers Awake.

Sleepers Awake?

Yes, it's the chorale from Sleepers Awake.

Sleepers, the crafty old sod.

Sleepers are antiques that have disappeared
just drifted away like a gob of spit in a storm.

One minute there they are all neatly catalogued,
next minute just a vague memory.

Thousands of antiques must become mislaid.

Mislaid, buried, stolen,
melted down, vandalized,

deposited in vaults, worn away, lent, forgotten.

The difference is that sleepers are deliberately
hidden usually because they're hot.

Oh! Finally discovered
when their values rocketed.

Could this be the fortune
Sam told his wife about?

Cunning old fart.

Question is, what are they and where are they?

Hot water, madam?

Thank you, Mrs. Cameron.

You do that deliberately.

Any chance of a discount on one green apple?

- Hello, there! You help yourself, my love.
- How is it going, Maggie?

It's not easy. Can't pretend it is.

- I'll manage.
- Perhaps this will cheer you up a bit.

You got it back! You're an angel.

I'm on their side.
Can I hang on to it for a few days?

Whatever you think fit, Lovejoy.

Listen, I want you to try
to remember something.

When Sam gave you this box,
what was he working on?

I do remember. He was working
at that big house near Bursford.

He left after the fire. The house had a fire.

It was a week or two after that
he gave me this.

- Here, are you on to something?
- Hope so.

I hope there's something in it
for your retirement.

Ah, that would be lovely.

I realized today I'm getting a bit old
to be on the fruit.

Not the same without Sam at home.

Oh, I know the place.
Owned by a woman called Mattock.

Oh, yes. Oh, a frightful woman.

We were once in the same
fundraising committee.

Oh, very overbearing
and wore far too much mascara.

It doesn't make her a bad fundraiser.

I believe she had an affair with the treasurer.

It destroyed his marriage and he was a terribly
nice man from Saxmundham,

with a wife and three small children.

She's got quite a reputation as a man-eater.

Mm, sounds right up your street, Lovejoy

Duty calls.

Lovejoy? It's an interesting name.

Sotheby's?

That's the, uh, wrong card.

Well, I'm all yours. What can I do for you?

I believe you had a fire here
some years ago?

Yes.

Alas! It destroyed the drawing room.

Along with some family treasures.

Poor Caroline was trapped
in the next room at the time.

- Your daughter?
- My dog, a borzoi.

The fireman only just got her out in time.
She was a nervous wreck for weeks.

Ah, George!
George, two large Scotches, please.

There's a good chap.

Do you remember what was destroyed?

Some silver broaches, a De Winter watercolor,

Scholtz clock, snuff boxes, other silverware

William III beautiful plate, Derby porcelain.

Oh, and a small Constable, nothing very exciting.

Thank you, George.

Thank you, George.

The police made their inquiries.
No one knows how the fire started.

The insurance coughed up
and as far as I'm concerned,

the whole affair is over and done with.

- Won't you join me?
- Oh.

Where do you fit into this, Lovejoy?

Your card said antiques, not arson.

What if I were to tell you
your things weren't burned?

That's impossible.

The room was completely destroyed,
they even found the damaged remains of them.

It made me quite ill.

You're sure they were the originals?

Of course, I'm not interested
in the second rate.

I should say not. Not Derby porcelain.

Scholtz clock, William III pewter plate
that could buy me a new cottage, a Constable...

- Irreplaceable!
- Yes.

Irreplaceable indeed.

These things really turn you on, don't they?

They're exquisite, beautiful,
crammed with soul, love.

They resist devaluation, inflation,
war, plague, famine.

I mean... Look, take that Sheraton.

It would be like resting your bum
on a kneeling bishop.

How excitingly put.

Are you this passionate about everything
you embrace, Lovejoy?

Well, I try to be.

George, could we have some tea now, please?

Chirpy boy, George.

- Very possessive, I'm afraid.
- Oh.

I'm sure he thinks your going
to take advantage of me.

Why would George think a thing like that?

(Laughs) I can't imagine.

(Siren blares)

Oh, it's you again.

What do you want this time?

Hello, darling.

You're no vicar, I could tell by the way
you were eyeing me up.

All that commotion you caused!
A right shifty pair, you and Father Peel.

I take it he's moved out of the hotel?

Disappeared without paying the bill.

That's disgraceful.
I shall have to have a word with his cardinal.

(Organ playing)

Sleepers Awake!

(Jane) It was there under my nose all the timel

Slow down a minute, Jane. What was?

- Samuel Pemberton in our church.
- (Lovejoy) In your church?

Exactly.

There's a small plaque with his name
and dates of birth and death.

I've never noticed it before
because there's always flowers in front of it.

Then as if that wasn't enough,
I spotted a stone set in to the floor.

- It's obviously been recently restored.
- By Sam Wendell?

I can't be sure of that
but it's got just two words on it.

- Yes?
- Sleepers Awake.

I must go now,
hope that's been of some help.

Bye.

(Chatter and laughter)

(Owl hoots)

(Whispers) Where's Tinker?

- (Thud)
- What's that?

Mm?

Her ladyship's having banquet
by the look of it. Very swish.

I'm going to Houston later this month,
trying to persuade Jane to come with me.

- Not very keen though, are you, darling?
- Because it's such a frightful place.

You could take me to New York
if you like, I'd adore that.

That fifth Scotch made me playful.

(Eric) There's a strange atmosphere
of departed spirits in here.

- That's Tinker.
- (Tinker hiccups)

Behind the flowers, Jane said.

- Lovejoy?
- What?

Pemberton. He made the original snuff boxes.

Sam Wendell copied and gave to his wife.

- Is he buried here then?
- No, of course not.

He was born, lived and died
in Birmingham.

This is Sam Wendell's work. Eric, move.

Tink?

To the crypt. Tools, Eric.

- They're coffins!
- (Tinker hiccups)

Oh, sleeping beauties.

Sam's ticket to the south of France.

Thank you, gentlemen.
You've saved me such a lot of graft.

Begorrah! If it isn't Smiley O'Reilly.
Wrong church, Father.

Oh, the right one, I think.

Oh, yes, definitely the right one.

God bless you all.

- Up?
- Up.

Anyone for a spot of campanology?

(Laughter)

The point is, he had the shares
in the briefcase all the time.

(Laughter)

- (Bells chime)
- Rather a late service.

If I didn't know better,
I'd think it was midnight mass.

I'll come with you.

(Thunder rumbles)

Village hooligans, I expect.

- Should Alexander have taken a weapon?
- He took Mrs. Cameron.

What's happening? Are you all right?

Yeah.

(Lovejoy) Ahem.

Any chance of a brandy and a mint?

(Snoring)

(Thunder rumbles)

(Phone)

- Oxton 299.
- (Eric) Is Lovejoy there?

One moment please. Mr. Lovejoy?

Yes, Eric?

You were right, Lovejoy.
His van's packed outside.

I'm on my way.

A lovely evening, Mrs. C.

All right, I'll go it alone from here. Your dad
would be really pleased if I landed you in jail.

- Well, I'm here if you need me.
- OK.

Oh, I've got to be home by midnight.

We must do this again.

Evening all.

You don't know when to back off,
do you, Lovejoy?

Put that away, Father,
you couldn't frighten a nervous nun.

You don't think I'd come here alone, do you?

Do as he says.

Thank you. Now I think we should all sit down
and discuss this business over a drink.

Usual, George.

Well, partners. We are the proud owners
of a fortune in valuables.

Wrong, Lovejoy, I'm the owner.

Oh, come off it, you've already had a lot
of money out of them from the insurance.

Mind you,
I can't blame you for the fiddle.

The upkeep of this place must be crippling.

I gather that they are heading for
the culture-crazy American market.

Wow, providences too.

This will ensure you get top whack.
The Yanks love family trees.

You think you boxed clever, didn't you?

You meddling bastard.

You could have picked somebody
with a little more class to do your snooping.

Good help is hard to find.

- Even Sam betrayed me.
- Yes, I wonder why he did that.

Sam was an antique snob.

He was happy to take his share of the insurance
but he loved antiques for their own sake...

while I am capable of loving only their value.

So he hid them to stop you
ferrying them abroad.

I prefer to think of his motive as greed.

That's something we both understand, Lovejoy.

Everyone has their price.

Quite. What's yours?

My pick of the lovelies.

We'd have to be friggin' idiots to agree to that.

Then it's a deal. Cheers, George.

No way. There's no bloody way
we're chopping this with Lovejoy.

Oh, yes, you are, Padre.

Hey, watch that!

It was a fake anyway, darling.

Oi!

(Siren)

Lovejoy!

Well, well. Your seedy little self
just happens to be here, I suppose.

What's the problem, Sarge, poachers?

We just had a phone call.

It seems you've found some missing valuables.

I presume you were bringing them in.

Would you believe me if I said yes?

We've got a few questions
we want to ask you lot.

And especially you, Smiley.

Shoplifting, impersonation,

leaving a hotel without paying,
breaking and entering,

possession of unlicensed firearm.

Oh, you've been a very naughty boy, Father.

By the way, who tipped you off?

Anonymous phone call.

Yes, seemed to know quite a lot about it.

Faces, names, times.
Very well informed she was.

She?

(Lovejoy) I still don't know why you interfered.

- I had it all sewn up and then the law arrived.
- (Jane) I was only trying to help.

I could cope with it, I've been
in more hot water than a tea bag.

I was worried about you.

It's easy to cope with a pair of third-raters
like Smiley O'Reilly and Gormless George.

I wasn't worried about them.

It was that ageing nympho Cecilia Mattock.

That's very noble of you, Lovejoy.

Helping Sam's widow
and expecting nothing from it.

Well, doing a good turn now and again
gives one a warm glow, like Cuban mahogany.

And you're full of surprises, Lovejoy.

Oh, thank you, Tinker dear.

Tink. Can you, erm...

hang on to these? Managed to pocket them
in the panic. Get a price on them.

You had me worried there for a minute, Lovejoy.

Thought you were going soft.

You should have seen Mrs. Wendell's face
when she got Sam's snuff box back.

She was so pleased.

So she should be! It's the original.

Samuel Pemberton, 1779 to 1813.

That's right.

Lovejoy?

(Laughs)

(Jane laughs)

(Snuff box plays tune)

(Arnold) Lovejoy!

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