All language subtitles for 1987 Miss Marple 4.50 From Paddington

BUS BEEPS HORN

Announcing the departure of the 4.33
to Brackhampton from Platform 4,

stopping at all stations
to Brackhampton.

What are you saying to me,
young man?

THAT'S the fast train, the 4.33.

Yes, Madam, but it doesn't go
as far as Milchester.

Where do you want?

Milchester for St Mary Mead.
You want the 4.50 to Milchester.

You'll overtake that one before
you get to Brackhampton.

Unless you want to wait there for the
5.50.

Thank you, young man

The 4.33 stopping at all stations
to Brackhampton

is about to depart from Platform 4.

Oh...hello.

The 4.50 to Dilmouth stopping at
Brackhampton,
Milchester and Roxeter

will leave from Platform 5.

The 4.50 to Dilmouth -
Platform 5.

- "Second Piano Concerto" by Rachmaninov

CAR DOOR CLOSES

CLOCK CHIMES

KNOCK AT DOOR

It's all right, Mary. I'll go. I think
it
must be Mrs McGillicuddy at last.

Yes, Miss Marple, ma'am.

Elspeth, my dear, there you are!

My dear...! What is it?

Jane... Oh, Jane, I've just seen
a woman killed!

They didn't believe a word I said
at the railway station.

And the constable I found,
WHEN I found him,

seemed to think
I had bats in the belfry.

My, I was cross.
But he looked about 12 years old.

And I don't like being cross
with other people's children.

You DO believe me, Jane?

Of course I believe you, Elspeth.

Thank you, Inch.

Yes. Yes.

Yes, ladies?

Could I speak to
Detective Inspector Slack?

Yes...

- Old Ramage will give him five years.
- Good morning, Inspector.

I've come to report a murder.

This time the old cockroach
has definitely blown a head-gasket.

Hasn't she?

I dare say.

Our blokes have been
over that train with a tooth-comb.

They searched the track
from Brackhampton to Haleford.

All hospitals, missing persons.

Two days - nothing.
No body, no murder.

But OF COURSE you must
go on searching, Inspector.

You might say that Mrs McGillicuddy
is not a sophisticated person,

but she has both feet on the ground.
She saw what she saw.

Full enquiries have been instituted

on the basis of the
defective information you furnished

because you are respected
in the County.

That's all we can do.

But Inspector...

May I remind you that there is
an offence called Wasting Police Time?

I can see how irritating it must be
for you so I'll ignore that remark.

After all, we may both be involved
in this at a later date,

when ONE of us is clever enough
to find the body.

Good morning, Miss Marple!

Will you help me with this, Mrs Brogan?

I will do my best.

- Oh... Amy Kidder!
- Yes?

Does she still work
for the Crackenthorpes?

Yes.

Most interesting. Yes.

- Yes?
- Yes. Now then.

These little pictures - do you know
a cutting from an embankment?

Ah.

Now, where would that be?

Well, just here,
the edge of Rutherford Hall Park.

TRAIN WHISTLES

Let me see,
five minutes to Brackhampton.

Now, it's near here.

There! See? That's the only place
it could have fallen clear.

- What's that place, Jane?
- Rutherford Hall.

Not one of our old families,
Victorian millionaires.

Remember "Crackenthorpe's Fancies"?
Silly name for biscuits.

I do.
I had no taste for them myself.

I don't believe I ever tried one.

Do they still live there?

- Pardon?
- The Crackenthorpes.

The son, Luther Crackenthorpe,
lives there.

A bit valetudinarian.
His daughter looks after him.

But how one...
Well, it's impossible...

One can hardly...
Well, it wouldn't do, would it?

If the body was flung off the train
at the place we think it was,

we could hardly knock at the door
and ask to look for it, could we?

No.

No, I can see what you mean.

Jane?

Golf! Of course, golf balls.

Lucy!

Lucy Eyelesbarrow!

Lucy looked after me when
I was recovering from pneumonia.

I couldn't afford her myself.
Dear Raymond engaged her for me.

All the best people have heard
of her nowadays.

Lucy!

Lucy, I want you to find a body.

I would have put you off, Miss Marple.

My holidays are sacrosanct,
but this sounds fascinating.

One young woman has been
murdered already.

I can look after myself.
Do they need someone at the moment?

My dear, they ALWAYS need someone.

Mr Crackenthorpe is very difficult.
Staff don't stay.

His daughter is always
on the look-out for someone.

The Crackenthorpes are registered
with the Brackhampton Bureau.

Amy Kidder, their cook-housekeeper,
lives near St Mary Mead.

Mrs Kidder is not very efficient
and she knows it.

That's why she puts up with it.

But...

I know what you're going to say.

Why should anyone like you
want to work there?

I have an idea about that.

Ah.

Elspeth!

Elspeth, Lucy has the job.

Oh, good! Excellent.

It seems like a bad dream now,
as if it happened to somebody else.

It did happen. Pity you have to
go back to Scotland.

- Should I stay?
- Oh, yes, you must go.

If anything happens
I'll make sure you're told.

When does Lucy start?

Oh, today.

Oh, Elspeth, you know,
we're getting old.

Thank heavens for Lucy Eyelesbarrow!

She's a very interesting girl,

from a formidably intellectual family.

ALL her brothers and sisters
are
Oxford Fellows and Doctors of this
and that.

Lucy became a housekeeper,
a very exclusive freelance housekeeper.

She's better off than any of them.

Wives can say to their husbands,

"Darling, I can go to America
with you.

I have Lucy Eyelesbarrow."

Miss Eylesbarrow?

Hello.

I'm Emma Crackenthorpe.
Welcome to Rutherford Hall.

I DO hope you had a good journey.

Will this do?

It's absolutely charming.
Thank you for the flowers.

I like these paintings.

Oh, they're my brother's.
I mean, he painted them.

Really?

He's gone abstract now,
like most of them.

- Is the room all right?
- Lovely.

I wouldn't have dreamt of
putting you on the top floor.

But I didn't know
what you were used to.

- Emma! Come here, girl!

That's my father.

Would you mind meeting him?

This is the new girl, is it?

Come over here.
Let me see you.

How do you do, Mr Crackenthorpe?

We've heard you were expensive.
What's my daughter paying you?

Father!

I wanted to be near my aunt
who isn't very well.

So I accepted your terms.

We're not a charity.
You'll have to work.

Father, please don't!

I'm expensive because
I'm not afraid of work.

Oh, I'm glad to hear it.

Just because we live in a big house,
doesn't mean that we're rich.

We live here because my father
built it. Understood?

Yes.

And no high-faluting ideas.

The only way I'd get rich
is to sell up and I'm not doing it.

The way I leave, will be feet first.

Why did you choose us?

There must be
other places in this area.

I like to practise my golf shots.
No-one else had enough space.

...If you don't mind my practising?

Of course not.

Oh, we've enough space.

What this place would be worth
as building land!

Right, I've seen enough of you,
young lady.

No extravagance.

Where's that FOOL of a doctor?

I'm afraid Father's very mean.

He gets cross that he's not allowed
to touch grandfather's money.

He couldn't sell up, as he puts it,
even if he wanted to.

He even uses our local NHS GP.

Dr Quimper is the best in town
and he
does refuse to have private patients...

Why does he?

He's really committed to the NHS.

What a splendid write-up, Emma!

How do you do?

Lucy Eyelesbarrow. John Quimper.

- How do you do?
- I'm here to help out.

Yes, Emma told me.

Mind you stand up to Luther,
or he'll bully you.

- She does.
- Good.

- How is Luther today?
- Usual self.

Excuse me.

Come on. I'd better show you
the kitchen.

Wouldn't you rather...

No, no. We must get on.
Too much to do.

- Oh, Lord! I quite forgot!
- What is it?

I forgot to tell you about
the invasion. The family come.

I mean my brothers. They have to,
to grandfather's birthday.

And my nephew, Alexander,
and his chum, for their half-terms,

and his father, my brother-in-law.

That's all right.

It's not what you expected.

I'll look forward to it.

Really?

They come for grandfather's birthday.

They are obliged to,
under the terms of his will.

Why?

To remain beneficiaries.
Grandfather was an old rogue.

Right then, Mrs Kidder.

'Between you and me, Mrs Kidder
isn't exactly speed made manifest.'

This is Miss Eyelesbarrow, Mrs Kidder.
She's come to help us out.

How do you do, Miss?

How do you do?

What would you
like me to do, Mrs Kidder?

Oh... Ah...

Well, you could say...

Well, why not?

What a magnificent kitchen, Mrs Kidder.

A lot of hard work for you, I imagine.

That girl's amazing.

She's only been
in the house half an hour,

and I feel as if I'm on holiday!

Good. I'm glad.

Take a breather. You deserve it.

When's the invasion?

Friday.
The supper is on Monday.

Bryan brings the boys down
the day after tomorrow.

No cooking today!

I'll be off now, then.

Do.

You won't mind if I do a little
tidying and flick a duster around?

Whatever's your pleasure, Miss.

GOLF BALL IS HIT

What the hell's she doing here?

TRAIN CHUGS ALONG

Hello, Alexander!

- Hello.
- This must be James.

Yes. Stoddart-West.
He's not bad.

This is Aunt Em. She's great.

- You two are in the east bedroom.
- That's our room. Come on.

How do you do?

Bryan Eastley.
Father of the bossy one.

I'm the new help/housekeeper.

Really?

...I'm practising.
I'm not very good.

Just since Monday.
I wanted to be in the area...

I left some of it behind
in case the police...

Good girl!

I'm sure it's been dyed.

It could be part of a woman's coat.

Yes. Something's definitely been
dragged down the slope.

Well, perhaps not definitely.

You begin to find what isn't there.
It's not much.

My dear, you've only been there
for ten minutes. Most interesting.

Now where will you look next?

BOYS' LAUGHTER

Come on, Stodders!
Call yourself a decent ladder?

Hello.

Oh, Miss Eyelesbarrow, terrific.

Would you mind reaching the key?

It's over the door on the ledge.

He's all right as an opening bat
but he makes an awful ladder.

There's an old archery set
in here.

Will you give us a game
if we set it up?

All right.

This bit belonged to the farm
which was here originally.

My great-grandfather who built the Hall
found some man-traps in here.

They were rusty
but he set them in the woods

to frighten the Brackhamptoners off.

He thought they'd think they worked.

- He seems to have a lot to answer for.
- He was a bit of a villain.

- Was he responsible for the statues?
- No, that was Grandfather.

They're pretty frightful, aren't they?

Ah!

THAT way, I reckon, Stodders.

Lucy?

Oh, Lucy!

Lucy?

Well, well,
my beloved sons have arrived

Here's the new prescription.
Do you want me to explain it to you?

Look at that.

CONVERSATION IS INAUDIBLE

Ring the police.

- Don't you think we should...
- RING the police!

Been dead over two weeks, I'd say.

The temperature is quite low
in there.

Your chap'll be able to tell you more
once he has it in the mortuary.

I'll go and see to the family.

Emma's taken it very hard.

Hello, Alex.
Got a friend with you today?

Yes, Doctor.

Dr Quimper?

What can you tell me
about the family?

Oh, well...only two of them
are my patients.

Three when the one who's an artist
comes home from abroad, Cedric.

The old man - he's not as ill
as he thinks he is.

Emma - she's the salt of the earth.

Harold's the banker.
Married an earl's sister.

Don't think he sees much of her.

She's in Cap d'Antibes just now.

It's a Daimler,
but it's not a Rolls.

And it's been the same Daimler
for 4 years.

Alfred calls himself a dealer.

He buys and sells things,
like cars.

He only has a car
when he's about to sell it.

- You don't like them, do you?
- It's not a question of dislike.

I think what they do is useless.
I can't wish them success, can I?

You realise we're going public?

I'm sorry?

The bank! We're going
to be quoted on the Stock Exchange.

This sort of thing could
do us appalling damage.

I don't see how.

If some lunatic chooses to dump
a corpse on the premises,

it's nothing to do with us.

Isn't it?

- What does that mean?
- The letter.

The letter I got - Martine.
Well, it could be, couldn't it?

For God's sake! You're accusing
a member of the family!

I didn't mean that.
I just thought...

You don't bloody well think!

KNOCK AT DOOR

Yes?

The Inspector would like a word.

COUGHS

Say that again.

I was told there may be a body here
and was asked to find it.

By whom?

An old lady I know who lives
in St Mary Mead.

I see.

And that's all you know?

Yes.

You're not thinking of leaving soon?

No. The family all seem
very shocked by this business.

I think they need me.

White. Female. Mid-thirties.

Hair dark brown, long, wavy.

Apparent cause of death,
strangulation.

Death occurred eighteen days ago
and incident was possibly witnessed.

We don't mention that to anyone.

- Sir.
- Tell all officers.

All members of household
deny having seen victim before.

Motive for murder, unknown.

Reason for depositing body
where found...

...unknown.

Look out!

There's been a murder!

And we've got a whole ten days
half-term to solve it!

- Steady on, old boy.
- It's true, I'm afraid.

- A murder?
- That's what it looks like.

Are you leaving?

No, I'm just going
to see my aunt in St Mary Mead.

Do you want a lift?

Well...

It would be useful. Do you mind?

Tell Uncle Harold where I am.

But don't you...?

Tell me about it when I get back.

What's going on?

Thank you. Keep the change.

Hello!

- Eastley!
- Flown any good planes recently?

And who are you?!

I'm the hired help.

Things are looking up.

Don't tell me brother Alfred's
robbed a bank at last.

There's been a murder.

- Mr Crackenthorpe?
- Yes?

Mr CEDRIC Crackenthorpe?

Yes!

Could the Inspector speak
to you for a moment, please, sir?

Alexander's a nice boy.

Worrying thing - child, you know.
What to do for the best.

Thank you, sir.

Sorry I couldn't help.

None of them clapped eyes
on her before.

- You believe them?
- Yes.

WHO the hell is she?!

Congratulations again, Lucy,

and if you are determined to go on...

I can't let Emma down.

Then be VERY careful.

You're sure
that it's to do with the family?

I'm not sure that I'm sure,

but old Josiah Crackenthorpe
seems to have been a bit...

That will of his!

Just the sort of thing
that causes lots of problems.

Oh, that useless great house!

I wouldn't be at all surprised
if it were to do with...

Yes.

Well, we mustn't keep that handsome
young man waiting any longer.

He looks rather lost, doesn't he?
And just a little desperate.

Yes, he does.

But VERY nice manners.

Super to have met you.

And we'll be seeing you tomorrow
for tea. I'll look forward to that.

Thank you VERY much. I...

ENGINE STARTS
Goodbye.

Do you think I could possibly
have the salt?

This is 'stremely edible.

Mm. Triffic. Super!

You should see the sewage
they slop out at school.

What's for pudding?

Do us a favour, old boy.

Treacle tart and ice cream.

Mm!

It's the best half-term ever!

Eat me out of house and home.

I'm just glad it's only a murder
and no-one's swindled the revenue...

What a colourful family we are

Alexander's right.

This is almost as delicious
as the person who cooked it.

BE quiet, you bloody poseur.

I'm all right. I'm ALL RIGHT.

I don't like it.

There's the poor bloke,

probably he can
no more afford it than I can,

and I'm supposed to get that
first premium from him.

You shouldn't sell something
you don't believe in.

How can you believe in insurance?

But you do some flying, don't you?

I deliver planes occasionally.

I fly other men's planes.

How's Mr Crackenthorpe?

He's fine. You cook too well!
He was the same at Christmas.

Dr Quimper seemed concerned.
He asked what he'd been eating.

I think it was quite simply greed.

Shall I do some drying up?

Oh, I see I've been beaten to it.

What a frightening woman
you are, Miss Eyelesbarrow.

Out of chaos you make order and light.
A goddess in sensible shoes!

And skin...

like a Manet or a Tissot.

Manet'd give you a black velvet
ribbon round your lovely throat

and make your shoulders
all peaches and ivory.

If you're going to stay
and talk nonsense,

would you do something useful?

No, thanks.
But Bryan needs a new one.

Lucy!

Someone wants to say
goodnight to you.

I'll take the tray.

That's his DFC and that's his DSO.
He got them twice over.

That's what the bars mean.

He was credited with 28 victories.

Here...

I wish he still looked like that.

Those gastronomic
and femoral developments

and the pronounced vastus,

and the general muscle tone,
I want attention drawn to those.

Yes, Mr Patmore.

They've brought in the Yard.

- Some snotty git called Duckham.
- He's a good bloke, I've heard.

I'm glad he's a good bloke
He'll be down after lunch.

- Down here?
- Yes. Come on.

I'm not staying to nursemaid
a good bloke from the bloody Yard.

I have work to do.

Course you have.

Oh.

Oh, well, yes, well, goodness me,
thank you. That WAS exciting.

Miss Marple!

Oh, Inspector Duckham!

This I don't believe.

Oh, what a lovely surprise!

Inspector Slack? Duckham.

I'll keep out of your way
as much as possible. It's your case.

Thank you, Inspector.

- Miss Marple.
- Inspector.

I believe I'm expected for tea.
Perhaps we shall meet later on?

I hope so, if you have time.

Indeed.

You know Miss Marple, do you?

Mm. Well, local people can be...

...quite helpful. Sometimes.

I suppose.

Yes. She's quite
the village busybody.

And she's the woman mentioned in
your preliminary report, isn't she?

- Excellent piece of work.
- Thank you.

- Isn't she?
- Yes.

Good. Excellent! You must know
how useful she is.

This is still your case, old man,
but I'm going to add a proviso.

I'm going to insist that we involve
Miss Marple at every stage.

She has a genius
for pointing out the obvious.

Her knowledge of these
kind of people will be in valuable.

- Right.
- Good. I'm glad that's settled.

Have you questioned the family yet?

I have some details about them
which
might suggest a line of questioning.

Alfred's interesting.
Has premises in Warren Street.

Deals in cars and anything
he can turn over quickly.

Unsuccessful.
Known to some villains.

Harold's a merchant banker
but his bank's in a dodgy position.

Just need one of their major loans
to go wrong...

Cedric's an artist.

He was in Ibiza until yesterday.
We can exclude him.

The father and daughter,
I don't know anything about.

- Her clothes were French, were they?
- Yes, good quality, except the coat.

Shoes were English, new. Rodneys.

Could your people trace them?

Yes, of course.

By the way,
has Patmore spoken to you?

No.

The post mortem revealed that
she was an athlete of some sort.

A runner, perhaps.
Very high muscle tone.

"Fabrique en France."

Oh, yes.

Cheap, isn't it? Rather tawdry.

Most interesting.

Thank you.

What's she doing here?
Who is she?

Ah, there you are, Aunt Jane. Good.

Oh...yes.

- Well, yes, yes.
- I'll fetch Bryan.

Anyway, thank you for your help.

I'll ask Dessin in Paris

if he has any female athletes
on his missing persons list.

I've been thinking about that.
Her clothes and so on.

Yes?

It occurred to me that
her clothes implied someone

who has times when she has money
and times when she hasn't.

Sometimes she bought good things.
Sometimes she bought cheap things.

That might mean she was in and out
of work a lot, but isn't feckless.

The most notorious profession
for that is the theatre.

An actress?

No, no, I don't think so.

An athlete, you said?

Well, most dancers
are stronger than athletes.

You must be Dr Quimper.

My niece has told me
so much about you.

Your niece is
a remarkable young woman.

I'm glad the family have her,
especially at the moment.

Duckham, CID.

- If you need me, Inspector...
- Thank you.

He's promised to drive more slowly.

Oh, I'm sure he drives carefully.

It's just that Inch is rather different.
I'm very grateful.

Monday morning we start
on the family.

We start with the broke banker.

Hello. You're out early.

GUNSHOT

I must say this kedgeree could make
a man fall in love with its creator.

Mrs Kidder will be very flattered.

OK, Alex. James.

- Delish. Thanks.
- Awfully nice. Thanks.

Would you mind if I
telephoned to my aunt?

Not at all. Use the phone in the study,
if it works.

It's never been right
since the police rigged up their line.

PHONE RINGS

St Mary Mead 236.

Hello, Aunt Jane. It's Lucy.

Ah, Lucy!

The birthday supper is tonight.
The solicitor is Arthur Wimborne.

Oh, little Arthur!
He was such a charming baby.

I went to his christening.

Most unusual -
he thought it such fun!

Thank you, my dear.
I shall go and see him.

HEAVY FOOTSTEPS

Come on!

John?

Are you all right?

I've been up all night.
A breech birth.

You should have got some sleep.

You know why I come here.

Yes.
You know how glad it makes me.

John...

Harold's disappeared.

- What do you mean?
- We can't find him.

Worried?

No, but it is rather odd.

You could get these coppers
to earn their living!

PHONE RINGS

Sergeant Lake here.
Can I help?

Really?

Could you hold the line, sir?

They may have identified her.
Dancer. Disappeared on the right day.

Slack.

Ballet Maritska.

French touring company.

Anna Stravinska.
Excuse me.

That's who they think the victim is,
Anna Stravinska.

Yes?

Theatre Royal...

Good. Thanks.

Right, get Harold the banker.

Let's find out what he was doing
the day they launched the Sputnik.

Thank you.

This is an unexpected pleasure,
Miss Marple.

It's very good of you
to see me at such short notice.

How is your mother?

Silver cup for her chrysanths
at the autumn show.

Oh, well done, Molly!

Yes, indeed.

What can I do for you?

It's Mr Josiah Crackenthorpe's birthday.

Can you tell me about it?

Oh yes, the body in the tomb.
You're interested in that?

I thought you would be interested.

It's not particularly confidential.

Yes, I think I can.

Luther showed signs of wanting
to turn the Crackenthorpe fortune

into a collection of very dubious art.

Old Josiah couldn't allow that.

He devised a will which gave Luther
the house and an income for life,

but he wasn't allowed to touch
the capital, or sell the house.

If you asked Emma,
I'm sure she'd tell you

that everything was entailed
for the grandchildren.

In order to remain
beneficiaries of the will,

the family has to gather
once a year on his birthday

to celebrate it and
to drink to his memory.

Our firm are executors
and go along to see fair play.

- How very odd.
- Yes, it is.

And there's something else...

that I'm afraid is confidential.

Dear me. What a pity.

Do you do the crossword,
Miss Marple?

Yes, I'm very fond of crosswords.

What IS that word?

I keep trying to think of that
French word for a peel of bells.

A tocsin?

That's right. It's like that.

Got it! Tontine. Ton-tine.

Good.

Oh.

Good.

We can't find Harold Crackenthorpe.

I've chucked my job.

What?

When?

This morning.

I wrote the letter last night
and posted it early this morning.

What on earth did you do that for?

Because you told me to.

You're mad!

I don't think I am.

If I told you to punch
a policeman, you'd do that?

Probably would.

Then you'll understand if I say
very little to you, won't you?

Where does your brother go shooting?

Bishop's Wood and down by the lake.

Take a constable
and walk the woods, Lake.

Yes?

This.

Arabesque!

C'est trop vite, madame.

Philipe, plus lentement!

♪ Da-da-da-da-da... ♪
Tres bien, tres bien.

MALE DANCER
HAS PERSISTENT COUGH

Madame Joliet?

Alors, qu'est-ce qu'lly a?

Continuez. Merci!

Plus tragique! Plus tragique!

Tres bien. Tres bien!

C'est impossible, madame.
C'est une betise!

Je ne peux pas travailler...

Ferme la! Tu es un cygne delicat,
ma cherie, pas un canard boiteux.

Continuez, s'il vous plait.

Merci

Philipe. Et...

BALLERINA SNEEZES

What a bloody shambles!

MUFFLED CONVERSATION

What did you want
to show me that for?

I'm sorry.

Yes, it's Anna.
What did they do to her?

She was strangled.

OK, Antoine.

She was a good little dancer.

What am I saying?

No, she wasn't very good, poor lass.

She was cheap and keen.

She filled in at the back
of the corps.

She kept fit at least.

No late nights.

Well, she was older
than most of them.

And dead religious.

She hated it if a Sunday train call
made her miss her bells and smells.

Poor Anna. I thought she'd found
another man at last.

I was quite relieved, as a matter
of fact, when she didn't turn up.

Dear God, what an epitaph!

"One rehearsal and I was forgotten."

We'll let you have the original
in due course.

Now, let's see - your brother,
Edmund, was killed during the war?

Yes, on the retreat to Dunkirk.

Now this woman, Martine, is claiming
to be his widow and to have his son.

Why has she left it till now?

I've no idea. I suppose we have
to accept the reason she gives.

She was doing all right, but now
feels she can't give her son

the advantages that should be his.

It's reasonable...

- It sounds reasonable.
- I think it's highly unlikely.

My brother did
meet a girl out there.

His last letter said so.

Did he?

Yes, it was obviously quite a thing.

I mean he was quite serious about it.

- Did he mention her name?
- Not really.

It was in inverted commas,
a nickname.

Minou or something like that.

This woman could be
a fortune hunter.

Yes, but it's possible
that's she's genuine.

Is it the sort of thing
your brother might have done?

Yes, it is.

Cedric, Edie and Edmund
were wilder than the rest of us.

Poor Edie married Bryan Eastley
when he was a dashing young pilot.

She thought he could die any day.

It depends on how much you think
happiness counts, I suppose...

Where was I?

Oh, yes, Edmund.

- Well...
- Excuse me a moment.

HE DIALS NUMBER

Yes... Right.

I'll ask. Thanks.

Thank you.

Did you ever hear Anna Stravinska
refer to herself as Martine?

She never called herself that but...

Will her real name be in your files?

I suppose so.

Do you mind looking it up?

Did you do anything about this?

Yes.

I got on to the War Office and
I answered it but she didn't reply.

Do you think it's important?

Maybe.

Bryan and Dr Quimper thought
I should tell you about the letter.

Harold didn't want me to.

Why not?

He said it would look bad for the family
if this woman WAS Martine.

Martine Isabelle Perrault.

Do you know
if she was married?

She said she had been.
To an Englishman.

Years ago.
A wartime fling, I expect!

Do you have a home address?

No. She said she was
moving to England.

She must have a trunkful
of things somewhere.

Ask Francoise.

We need family papers, photos.

Ask Francoise.
She was her copine.

The address.

I've got a lighting rehearsal.
In the stalls, if you want me.

Habillez-vous!
Get your clothes on!

This is a London address.

Anna was between apartments.

She wanted to move to Londres,
her husband's family.

She thought they will
become friends again.

- That is her, isn't it?
- Oui. That's Martine.

Lads, come on. Move.

These traps have been illegal
for centuries. What's it doing here?

The old man's father found them.

- How do you know?
- The gardener told me.

The old fool used them
to scare people off.

None of them worked.
This one did.

What a bloody mess.

Damn!

Turned it over last night.
Made a neat job.

French woman's lodging here.
She's away on tour.

What's been taken?

It's hard to tell. But there's no
private stuff - no pics or letters.

Yes, yes.

Sergeant, would you get hold of
an Inspector Slack on this number.

Say I'll arrive at teatime.

Could he spare me
some of his valuable time?

There's someone I want us
to consult.

Er...yes, sir.

Harold's bank was borrowing
against his future legacy.

His creditors may have foreclosed if
they'd
heard about another claim on the
estate.

I'm sure he would have thought that.

He may have known
Martine's claim was genuine.

So he decided to get rid of her

and destroy the proof of any connection
she had with the family.

And then?

Once the body was found, he assumed
that he would be accused eventually

so he took things into his own hands
and staged a shooting accident.

He didn't leave a note, did he?

Not as far as we know.

There could have been insurance,
which doesn't pay out on suicide,

so it had to look accidental.

Yes...

Yes... Of course.

I haven't convinced you, have I?

Oh, I don't know. You never knew
Archibald Spaight so you won't...

No...

You've made it sound so convincing
and you've identified this Martine so...

Well, yes, I suppose
you must be right.

Archibald Spaight?

Yes, did you know him?
So like Harold Crackenthorpe.

He'd finger his cuff-links when
he was nervous or about to be cross.

THAT'S my objection in a nutshell.

Ehm...Miss Marple?

I'm sorry.

It's just that Archibald Spaight
greatly disliked his wife.

He left her nothing in his will
and she went to court to get something.

Did Harold Crackenthorpe
like his wife enough

to make his suicide
look accidental for her benefit?

What do you think?

It COULD have been an accident,
as simple as that.

Yes.

All right... If he was murdered?

If he was, then Rutherford Hall
is a very dangerous place.

Why do you say that?

May I make a suggestion?

Of course!

I think you should see Arthur Wimborne
and ask what a tontine is.

I think as a solicitor, you see,

he would be able to explain it
so much more cleverly than I can.

A tontine is a financial device

by which the sharers
in a common fund

increase their portion of the fund
as the other sharers die.

The last survivor collects the lot.

Would it be possible to construct
a will along those lines?

Yes.

Has it been done
to your knowledge?

Once in my experience, yes.

The beneficiaries received an income
based on a share in the capital.

The capital itself
was entailed to their children

and to their children after them.

If a beneficiary died without issue,

their capital was distributed
amongst the survivors.

Not a true tontine,
but near enough.

I see.

It would be in the interests
of any member of the family

to see the other members die off -

especially if the others
had no children?

Yes, that's right.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I have an appointment
at Rutherford Hall.

- Will Father be coming down?
- Yes.

What counts as being present?

You should all be together
in the same room.

If we had any guts,
we'd challenge this in the courts.

It would be expensive.

And the only reason we're here
is money.

My God, it's so ugly.
Look at us.

All except precious Bryan here,
who is present on behalf of his son.

Yes, I am, Cedric.

DOOR OPENS

You look EDIBLE, Lucy!

Cinderella shall go to the feast,
even though she did cook it herself.

Lucy, is everything ready?

- Yes, it is.
- You are wonderful.

I'll see how Father's getting on.
He was in bed all afternoon.

Oh!

Come here, girl. I'll take you in.

- You'll be sitting with us.
- Will I?

I insist. Come on, take my arm!

Had your eyeful?

Do YOU think it was an accident?
Uncle Harold, I mean.

I don't know. It was horrible!

If he WAS murdered, the person who
killed him is sitting downstairs.

Oh, shut up, Ally!

One of them's a murderer.

- People murder for two reasons:

money or love.

Nobody's ever loved Uncle Harold,

not even his super-snooty wife,

so it was money.

That must mean Crackenthorpe money.

So that must mean that
one of the Crackenthorpes

is trying to get rid of
the rest of us, old fruit.

- Steady, Daddy.
- Mm?

Remember what John Quimper said.

He's a fusspot, an old maid.
He pesters me.

Heard of the latest thing?
A food diary! I ask you.

"10am - tea." Not forgetting
"half a fluid ounce of milk."

Nightmare!

He's a good doctor.

I don't agree.

He's a fool and a failure.

How can you say that?

He's not
a grab-the-money-and-run merchant.

He believes medicine should be free
and practises what he believes in,

unlike any of us round this table.

I'm sorry, Lucy.

How can you say he's a failure?

I didn't mean that.

John Quimper believes in the future.

He believes in the fundamental
decency of human beings.

I don't! I think we're rats
until we're taught otherwise.

I think civilisation
is a holding operation.

What do you think, Bryan?

How do you mean?

Nature or nurture,
what do you think?

Some people are nicer than others.

Oh! Wonderful.

- I think...
- Yes?

You DO realise that the police think
one of us killed Harold and Martine?

Harold's death was an accident.

You really think so?

Yes. Who would want to kill Harold?
He's a harmless fusspot.

We can't start
seeing murderers everywhere.

What's happening to us?

Calm down!

I agree with you, Em. One murder
doesn't presuppose another.

Whoever slung out those traps
should have immobilised them.

Bet they bring in "Misadventure".

As for the girl, I wasn't even
in the country at the time.

Your spaniel is saying goodnight
to his son,

so I'm taking the opportunity.

A passion for order...

Some half-decent art
has resulted from that passion.

What other passions
do you entertain, Lucy?

Lucy,

"What fond and wayward thoughts
will slide into a lover's head!

""Oh mercy!" to myself I cried,
"If Lucy should be dead!""

I'd like you to come
to the island with me.

I'd like to show you
my kingdom by the sea.

It's mine because I know it intimately.

I know its nooks and crannies.

I know the smell of its earth,

its plants.

CEDRIC WHISTLES
"The Teddy Bears' Picnic"

I'm sorry.

Don't damn well apologise,
for God's sake!

I came to ask you something.

WHAT?

Whether I should do something.

Can't you make up your mind about
anything? Whatever it is, DO it!

Sell your house! Buy an aeroplane!

Go to hell!

I'll do it then.

Please tell Inspector Slack
that I have some information.

- Hello, Mary.
- Good morning, sir.

Oh, Inspector, how nice!

I hope you don't mind
my coming so early.

Not in the least. DO come in.

It seems to me that the murder
of Martine Perrault

was very carefully planned.

Her body would have remained hidden
but for Elspeth McGillicuddy.

Then Harold was murdered -

so differently, so indiscreetly,
so theatrically.

Now, if Harold
had to be killed suddenly,

it seems most likely it was
because he knew something,

or pretended he did.

About Martine Perrault?

Perhaps.
What do we know about her?

Not much.
Someone made sure of that.

We should try to find one of
Edmund's friends in the regiment.

He'd have told a fellow officer
if he'd married a French girl.

Excellent. Leave that with me.

And I shall go and visit
a lady in Kensington.

I was delivering a plane -
usual sort of trip, Bristol to Northolt.

I was looking for the bloke
to do the paperwork.

A passenger kite
had just landed from Paris.

The civvies were walking
across the tarmac.

I recognised one.

Who was it?

Cedric Crackenthorpe.

Do you have reason to believe
that Mr Crackenthorpe

has something to do
with this business, sir?

I don't know. I came to tell you
because I don't like him.

Have they questioned you?

Yes.

About the day the
Sputnik thing happened?

And trains?

Oh, yes.

And me?

What is it, Em?

Bryan. That was the day he came
down from Paddington.

He was kicking himself
for catching the slow train

when he should have caught the 4.50.

Do you think I ought to tell them?

Bryan? You can't be serious.

Well, who then, Freddie?
Who?

Lucy!

The phone's gone funny again.

I'm sure it's that wire
the police have rigged up.

Would you have a word?

Of course.

Go on.

All right. I did fly over from Paris.
Clever old you.

The reason I didn't mention it is
because there's a woman in the case.

- Monica Stevens,
9 Chandos Mews, SW1.

I'd be grateful if you rang during
the day and not at the weekends.

Why?

Why do you think? She's married.

Where were you the rest of that day?

Well...there's still a law
against pornography in this country!

We went to the Hargrave House Hotel
in Bloomsbury Street.

We were Mr Peter and
Lady Patricia Cooper for the occasion.

Thank you.

Good.

It was Eastley, wasn't it,

who told you I was at Northolt that day?

I thought so. I thought I saw him.

A word of advice, -
don't overlook Eastley.

War heroes don't wear well
in peacetime. They go off.

He may be thick but he's strong.

Like some household preparations
they market nowadays -

thick, strong and kills anything
in sight.

The description we have
is wrong for Mr Eastley, sir.

Really?

You have a description, do you?
How interesting.

What could be wrong, I wonder?

Hair? He's fair-haired. Is that it?
The rest of us are dark.

May I sow a seed of honest doubt
in your minds?

As an artist,
I know about these things.

Imagine a sheet
of opaque white paper

which is dazzling you
with the sun on it.

If you put it against the sky
with the light source beyond it,

it'll look nearly black.

You see, it's all relative.

Anyone fair-haired with a light
behind them will look dark.

I don't know the circumstances,

but worth considering,
don't you think?

Hello.

Damn, damn, DAMN.

I suppose a chap like Quimper...

What?

I expect he's rushed off his feet.

Yes. You have to LIVE
the sort of work he does.

Yes. I suppose so.

I didn't realise
you were fond of him.

Oh, it's all right.

We'd have...

What?

I know Daddy's been pretending
about his health for years

but he really hasn't got very long.

John thought
we shouldn't upset him.

If Daddy didn't think I was going
to be here much longer, or that...

Anyway, the point is that one day
John Quimper and I...

Well, we're engaged.

Really?

Oh, I AM pleased, Em!

You're the only person I've told,
so keep it quiet.

I couldn't bear Daddy to think
I was deserting him.

Of course.

What were you going to say
about John?

Oh, it's all right.

No, go on. Tell me.

It's not important
and it doesn't matter now.

Not much does.

It's just that Quimper didn't spot
something which...well...

What something?

One of these things
you have to catch early on.

If he had, it might have been
a different story.

Too late now.

Too late?

Mm.

They've offered to hack me around,

but there isn't much point really,
not once it's got hold.

Now, you mustn't upset yourself.
These fellows have to work too hard.

I must go.

The coppers want a word with me.

I've given them an alibi
but all my witnesses were crooks!

We'll talk later.
God bless you, Em.

None of Crackenthorpe's fellow
officers had heard of him marrying.

And they would have done -
he wasn't exactly the reticent type.

- Where is she?
- She's not in.

Well, don't let me keep you.
You can send the car back for me.

No, no, we'll wait.

Oh!

Oh, I am so sorry.
It's Mary's afternoon off.

Were you successful, Miss Marple?

Yes. I got very nice pillowcases
from Derry and Tom's.

Do come in.

Oh! I see what you mean!

I went to see Alice Crackenthorpe,
Harold's widow.

Did you know that Harold
had a passion?

What was it?

The ballet.

His flat is full of mementoes -
photographs, paintings, drawings.

In particular, there was a poster

advertising the last English tour
of the Ballet Maritska.

So that girl was never married
to Edmund Crackenthorpe?

That's very interesting.

Have you traced her?

Still trying.

But she's dead.

A young woman is dead, certainly.

You think Martine Perrault is not
this girl of Edmund Crackenthorpe's?

That's right.

I think we were meant
to think she was.

If so, someone doesn't want us
to know who Martine Perrault was.

I think the murderer suspected
Harold of knowing who she was.

Do you think you know
who she was?

Yes. And if I'm right,
then we have our murderer.

Well, we know who did it
but we shall have to prove it.

Yes.

Yes.

I shall invite Elspeth McGillicuddy
for the weekend. Yes.

I think Saturday would be
a good day, don't you?

I shall go up to town tomorrow
and, if necessary, the next day.

I must telephone Inch.

To London?

To Somerset House.

Saturday?

Yes. I think we should have a plan
for Saturday. Don't you?

Saturday already.

Only one of your lunches to go.

Rotten swizz.

Stodders and I think you're
out of this world as a cook.

And you're very sensible.

Am I? Is that good?

Yes.

If Dad turns up from time to time,
look after him, won't you?

Yes.

London life doesn't really suit him.

He doesn't say things well
and people think he's boring.

But he isn't. He can be great.

He quite likes you, you know.

Do you like him?

Yes, I do, but...

What?

I wish he wouldn't keep
doing what I tell him to.

Why?

What do you think?

"Eastley Light Freight"
and a parcel with wings.

- You haven't bought it, have you?
- Of course I have.

I've hocked the house
and bought a plane,

just like you told me to.

Like it?

She's a great influence,
isn't she?

You can help me move the kite.

Remember what I've told told you.
Lucy will help you.

Yes, I do.
But I wish I knew what it was about!

What made you invite
the old crustacean again?

She's even brought
another member of the species.

Lucy asked me to
and she's been so helpful.

Poor old Bryan.
Brought his new toy to show Mummy.

Father will be livid
about that plane.

My dear Miss Marple!

The reckless young fool!
What got into him?

That young woman
has a lot to answer for.

You're very kind,
Miss Crackenthorpe.

We knew you knew Miss Marple.

Coffee is the only entertaining
we do now Father...

Lucy! Sandwiches!
You've done us proud.

John will be pleased.
He never eats properly all day.

He'll join us after he's seen to Father.

I wonder...

- Might I visit your bathroom?
- Yes, of course. I'll show you.

Inspector, a sandwich?
Cucumber and...fish paste, I think.

COUGHING

- A fish bone, I think.
- I'll get Dr Quimper.

John, Miss Marple thinks she may
have a fish bone in her throat.

Come over to the light.

That's him! The man on the train.

I thought you'd recognise him, Elspeth.

You didn't know, did you, Doctor,

that when you strangled that woman
on the train, someone saw you?

It's unusual, I believe,
to have an eye-witness to murder.

You're serious, aren't you?

What on earth
are you talking about?

Look here, Miss... I think...

She wouldn't do as you wanted,
so you killed her.

What are you talking about?

Miss Eyelesbarrow, your aunt...

There is nothing wrong with me.

Yes, Lucy, really...

Shut up, Em.

This is absurd.

I am a busy man,

and although the psychology
of the event

is no doubt fascinating...

Emma, tell Miss Eyelesbarrow's aunt
that I don't murder strange women.

She was not a strange woman.

She was your wife.

What?

This is beyond belief!

"Certified copy
of an entry of marriage.

"Chapel of the Sacred Heart,
Chelsea, 1944.

"Martine Isabelle Perrault,
Spinster..."

You'll have to shoot, old boy.

I said...

you'll have to shoot, old boy.

NO!

GUN FIRES

Gotcha.

That was very inadvisable, sir.
The man was armed.

We don't recommend that.

She's not in love with him yet,
of course.

I rather think she's more
attracted to you.

But she'll marry him
and make him what she wants.

THEN she'll fall in love with him,

probably when she's expecting
their third child.

I hadn't realised that commonsense
is as powerful an instinct as love,

hatred or patriotism.

How very common-sensible of you
to realise it.

Inspector, do you think
he'll admit to it?

The lab will be able to nail him,
but I think he'll talk.

As you said, he's a planner,
not an improviser. They're much easier.

Martine Perrault was a good Catholic

and in the end he realised
she would never agree to a divorce.

He had to be free to marry Emma.

He was convinced that Harold knew
who Martine was so he killed him,

but I believe Dr Quimper wanted
to remove most of the family,

and that evil-minded will of Josiah's
meant that he'd become a very rich man.

His obsessive concern
for Luther's health was a cover

for the day when he'd make it
break down completely.

I suspect he knew
that Alfred had a fatal illness

and deliberately
did not diagnose it early enough.

And the letter from Martine?
Quimper sent that?

Oh, yes.

He heard of Edmund Crackenthorpe's
wartime fling from Emma

so he sent the letter
using his wife's name.

It was a safety net.

It meant he could
implicate the family.

What an extraordinary disguise
his character was.

Poor Emma was hopelessly
in love with him.

She would have made him
far too good a wife.

Poor Emma.

I'll stay on as long as you like.

You'll both come and stay with me,
of course.

Emma needs to get away from here.

And Lucy, you need chaperoning.

And what about me, Madam?

You'll be all right, Mr Crackenthorpe,

now that you don't have a doctor
to tell you you're ill.

You must do all the things
he told you not to.

And Miss Griffith's Bureau
in Brackhampton

will supply a nice young nurse
to fuss over you...