All language subtitles for S01E07.The.Mystery.of.the.Blue.Jar

Hard cheese, m'boy, hard cheese.

I don't know, Uncle George.

You need time on the 1 9th, m'boy.
That's what you need.

I seem to get worse
rather than better.

Bound to happen.
AII of us go through bad patches.

I suppose so.

- How's the Iegal stuff coming along?
- Not bad. Started on Roman Iaw today.

Ah! You don't have to stay
at that hotel, you know.

I know. Quite honestly,
if a chap has to swot, Uncle George,

a boring hotel is the best place
to do it.

How's old Beersdale these days?

He still seems to think he'II make
a solicitor of me one day.

(chuckles)
He's been very kind, matter offact.

Really? Beersdale?

Yes. Every morning when I get into
chambers he takes me through my stuff.

Well, frankly, I am not surprised.
sighs)

- What?
- That your golfs not all it should be.

Why?

Well, I mean, here you are
getting up at the crack of dawn

doing half a dozen holes
before breakfast,

racing off to the City,
braving old Beersdale before coffee,

dashing back here to fill up with Roman
Iaw and hotel stodge in the evening.

PIain as the nose on myface, m'boy,
you're overdoing it.

- I don't know, my iron shots are...
- They're alright, it's your swing.

Straight Ieft arm,follow through
and don't Iook up.

Afternoon, Colonel, Bill.

Don't you everfeel a bit odd?

- How so?
- This place being the oldfamily home.

I never Iived here,
but it must be jolly oddfor you

propping up the bar
Iike any old Tom, Dick or Harry.

- Oh, I say, I'm sorry.
- Hmm?

Oh, see what you mean.

OId Harry.(Laughs) No, no.

I couldn't bear all that noblesse oblige
how's-your-father, could you?

Tenants, rents, good works? God, no.

I've got a comfy billet,
golf club on my doorstep,

decent claret to sup in the evening.

Lord of the manor?
Oh, no, thank you, Jack.

No, I consider myself among
the mostfortunate portion of humanity.

And I drink a toast to the man
who gambled away thefamily estate

and Ieft me in the enviable position
I find myself today,

my grandfather, Mad Harry.

Wasn't there some scandal
to do with him?

I should say!
confessed to murder on his deathbed.

- Murder?
- No, Iforget the whole story.

Some girl mixed up in it, I think.

WhyMad Harry?

Guilt, they say.
Drove him out of his mind.

There must be more cheerful subjects

than my homicidal grandfather
and your golf.

Er, Jenkins?

No, no, sane enoughfamily
on the whole.

My only aberration
was in marrying your Aunt Mags.

What about cousin FIorence? Wasn't there
some dark secret to do with her too?

Nothing dark about it, dear boy.
She eloped with the Iocal blacksmith.

- Sorry, Major Hartington?
- Oh, hello, Dodds.

You know my nephew Jack?

How do you do?

- What afelicitous encounter.
- Oh?

- My catching you.
- What?

I've just managed to secure
a very fine Izaak Walton

in a superb Riviere binding.

It's quarto. Nofoxing.
Very slight rubbing.

AIso a splendid Jorrocks
with full-plate aquatints.

- Again, quarto and full calf.
- Ah!

They'II be arriving within afew days,

so, well, perhaps I might
bring them along to you?

No good.
Joining the wife in Italy tomorrow.

Ah.

Oh, well, perhaps I might Ieave them
for you to examine at your Ieisure?

- Yes, Ieave them with Mrs Emmett.
- Oh, right, right.

Don't be put off by her.
She onlylooks Iike Attila the Hun.

- Good afternoon, Major Hartington.
- Ah, Dr Lavington.

I think Ifound that J W Dunne
that you were Iookingfor.

Quite a stroke of Iuck. AnExperiment
WithTime was the one, wasn't it?

That chap's staying in my hotel.
Who is he?

Dr Lavington. Interesting cove.
Here to write a book or something.

Dodds brought him along
for a sherry afew weeks ago.

Wanted to show him my collected BIake,
don't you know?

Do you know what he calls himself?

Doctor of the soul.

Doctor of the soul?(chuckles)
Sounds a bit crackpot to me.

Now, just a minute, m'boy. "There are
more things in heaven and earth", what?

Well, I mean, take thatfellow Gandhi
for a start.

Ha! Bow-Iegged Iittle grasshopper.

Hello, where's our tea?

Mrs Emmett's really gone to pot

- since your aunt went off to Italy.
-(rings bell)

Ah...

- Now,... where was I?
- Dr Lavington.

What? Oh, yes, Gandhi.

Well, now, you may think
old Lavington's a bit odd, m'boy,

but I've had the benefit
of visiting the East.

Now, if you told a sensible man that
Britain might Iose her Indian Empire

to a half-nakedfakir
in a pair of bifocals,

whose only possessions were a Kashmiri
shawl and the clothes he stood up in,

he'd never believe you, would he?
But it Iooks increasingly Iikely. Ha!

Power of the spirit, m'boy.

- Where is our tea?
- Power of the spirit?

Yes. Never underestimate it.

In Madras, I have seen chaps
walking across 30foot of red-hot coals

quite slowly and deliberately.

And not only did they suffer no pain,
but theirfeet weren't even scorched.

Power of the spirit, m'boy.

Oh, there you are, Mrs Emmett.

Thank you very much.

Thanksfor the tea, Uncle.

Have a good holiday.
Love to Aunt Mags.

Hate holidays. Stupid idea.

Boats and trains andforeigners.

Oh, thanksfor the game. I'II try to be
a bit improvedfor you after your trip.

(alarmrings)

(Uncle George) Straightleft arm,
folLowthrough anddon'tlookup.

(woman) Murder!

Help! Murder!

(rooks caw)

- Are you alright?
-(French accent) Yes, of course.

- You didn't cry out just now?
- No. Why should I?

Oh, I see.

- Well, where did it come from?
- What?

A cry! You must have heard it.
It came from near here.

- A cry?
- Yes.

- I heard nothing at all.
- Are you sure?

Yes, of course, yes. It came
from somewhere just near here.

- What sort of cry?
- It was a woman, screaming blue murder.

BIue murder?
What is blue murder?

Oh, I think somebody is playing a joke
on you, monsieur.

(man) Felise!

- Oh.
-vite!vite!

Excuse me.
Myfather, he is unwell.

Good morning, sir.

Young man?

- Yes, I'm sorry?
- Your collar, turned up at the back.

What? Oh.
I say, thanks awfully, sir.

Yes, sir?

Hmm?

Oh. Oh, I don't know, Agnes...
Porridge and toast, nothing cooked.

Righty-oh, sir.

- Evening, sir.
- Evening, Mr Hubble. Pint, please.

- Er, do you mind if I...?
- No, no, no. Help yourself.

You Iookingfor anything
in particular?

What? No, no. Really Iooking to see
if anything happens around here.

Well, depends what you mean
by "happens" really.

The sale of work was Iast Saturday

and there's a dance at the church hall
this Saturday, refreshments provided,

but you'II have to wait until Thursday
for thefête.

- That the sort of thing you mean?
- No, not exactly what I had in mind.

- I mean, Iook at the national papers.
- Oh, yes?

- Full of news.
- News?

Well, sport and crime and... scandal.

Wouldn't get into our Iocal rag,
stuff Iike that.

Well, not as such. They try to keep that
sort of thing out of the Clarion Argus.

Lowers the tone of the area, Iike.

Well, I obviously chose the right place,
idealfor a holiday.

Ah, a holiday.
That sacred cow of our industrial age.

More of a working holiday.
Dr Lavington, isn't it?

- How do you do?
- How do you do? I'm Hartington.

- Lots of golf to offset the revision.
- Ah!

You see, I'm an articled clerk.
Got my exams soon.

I thought you were working
too hard.

Too hard? Why do you say that?

- It shows.
- Does it?

Well, a certain abstraction
at breakfast this morning.

Oh, the... I thought as a matter offact
thatyou were on holiday here.

No. No, not quite.

It's true I still practise in Hove
now that I've Ieft Harley Street,

but those of us Iucky enough not to be
involved in the industrial process,

a change of activity is sufficient to
renew the spirit if you don't overdo it.

No, I'm here to write a book.

Uncle George
doesn't Iike holidays either.

Hope he Iasts the course
or he'II get stick from Aunt Mags.

Ah. I suppose you're right, though.

For the renewal of the spirit it's an
excellent spot. Peace made manifest.

(chuckles) In terms of dramatic
incident, Iuckily, it's a desert.

(woman) Murder! Help!

Murder!

Mademoiselle!

Mademoiselle.

Yes? What is it?

Oh, mademoiselle,
you heard it this time anyway?

I've heard nothing.

- Well...
- Nothing at all.

But just now.
I mean, you must have done.

- Are you alright, monsieur?
- What do you mean, alright?

Well, are youfeeling alright?
I mean, have you been unwell?

Sighs)

(Uncle George)
Don't overdo it. Onlyyoung once.

(Dr Lavington) ithought
youwereworkingrathertoo hard.

(Felse) Areyoufeeling alright,
monsieur? Areyoufeeling alright?

(woman) Murder!Help! Murder!

Thank you.

- More coffee, sir?
- Yes, thank you, Agnes.

Ahem! Excuse me, Dr Lavington,
do you mind if I join youfor a moment?

- I'd be delighted. Sit down.
- Thank you.

Well, what can I dofor you?

Just an idea I had. You know I told you
I came here to swotfor my exams?

Yes, although I thought you an unlikely
candidatefor a place Iike this.

Oh, my uncle Iives notfar away.

If Ifeel Iike some home comforts
I can always...

Anyway, we both Iike golf.

And that's how I relax,
playing golf with him.

But he's awayfor a week or so
and I wondered if...

You do play golf?

To call it "play" is perhaps
an indulgence. I struggle.

But, yes, I know the rules.
I Iack the requisite equipment, however.

No problem.
They have spare clubsfor visitors.

- Ah!
- Well, I thought...

I mean, there I am every morning.
But only if the idea appeals.

I'd be delighted. You always manage
to catch the 8:56, don't you?

- Shall we say 7:50?
- Is 7:00 too earlyfor you?

I shall Iookforward to it.

I've struck a small difficulty
in the argument in my book.

Perhaps fresh air and exercise
might put my thoughts together.

But you must be prepared
to run out the handsome winner.

Oh, no, really, sir.

Good second shot of yours.
Right by the green.

Thanks.

Do you think this is alright?

Yes, I should say so.

(club swishes)

Good shot!

(Dr Lavington) Oh, bad Iuck.

I think it'II be a good day
when this mist clears.

You're on at the next hole, what?

(woman) Murder!Help!

Murder!

You got afour, surely,
at the Iast hole, didn't you?

So, what was all that about?

I was going to ask you
the same question.

- Were you?
- You're a doctor, aren't you?

- Yes.
- Well, go on, then.

I know very Iittle about you.

But I do know I have recognised in you

all the signs of a man
under considerable stress.

I must confess afascination
to what that stress could be.

I can tell you easily enough.
I'm going off my chump.

- Really?
- I tell you, I'm going mad.

How curious, how very curious.

Oh, that's what it is, is it?
My God, you doctors.

(Laughs) Oh, come, come, my friend.

AIthough I've taken my medical degrees,
I don't practise conventional medicine.

Oh, and what do you practise?
Witchcraft?

Well, Iet's just say that I'm not
a doctor of the body, of the soma.

- Or the mind?
- That's much nearer.

AIthough I Iike to use "mind"
to describe the mechanical,

the rational aspects of thought.

Oh, yes, the soul. Uncle George
told me, doctor of the soul.

I hear the disparagement in your voice.
But what is a man to do?

I've explained
why I don't use the word "mind".

"Psyche" has been appropriated
byfollowers of the Viennese school.

"Brain" is a description
only of the physical organ.

No, "soul" suits me, a word which
transcends religions and philosophies.

But call it what you Iike,
provided that the word you choose

denotes that principle of consciousness,
of self-awareness,

which is deemed to be independent
of this bone house, the body.

AIright.

Shall I tell you what struck me
as curious?

Go ahead.

How such a well-balanced young man
could suffer from the delusion

that he was going out of his mind.

Well, I am. I've got a screw Ioose.

- Forgive me, but I don't believe it.
- I suffer from delusions!

- Not you.
- I hear things nobody else hears!

Ah! Well, that's quite different.

- Beg your pardon?
- It's different.

- It may not necessarily be a delusion.
- What?

It could as easily be evidence
of a sense refined beyond the ordinary.

I don't understand.

One man in a thousand
can see the moons of Jupiter.

But until Galileo's telescope,
nobody believed they were there.

- But...
- Some can smell water in a desert.

Dogs can hear sounds
well beyond human hearing.

The sense of touch in some blind people
is so refined

that it enables them to perceive
the colour of objects they handle.

- I could go on.
- Yes, but...

We do not call the possessors
of these refined instruments mad.

- What do we call them?
- Must you go to the City today?

OId Beersdale promised to take me
through torts. I'm quite bad at torts.

Then breakfast is a necessity.

Get changed.
I'II meet you downstairs in ten minutes.

Then we can decide whether you have
groundsfor believing you're going mad,

and we can decide whether or not
to Iock you up afterwards.

(chuckles)

And there it is.
I think I've told you everything.

What I can't understand

is why this morning it should come
at nearly half past seven,

almost five minutes Iate.

Yes, that is odd.
What's the time by your watch?

8:25.

Well, that's simple enough, then.
Your watch isfast. Mine says 8:22.

That's a very interesting
and valuable point.

- Infact it's vital.
- In what way?

Well, an obvious explanation
would go something Iike this:

on the first morning you did hear a cry,
possibly a joke on somebody's part.

Then on subsequent mornings you merely
suggested to yourself that you heard it.

- Yes.
- But that explanation wouldn't work,

because if it was autosuggestion

you would have had to have heard the cry
when you knew it was 25 past.

- So where does that Ieave us?
- The only theory that fits thefacts

is that the cry Iocates itself
very precisely in time and space,

the place being in the vicinity
of the cottage, the time being 25 past.

- Excuse me.
- Thank you.

Thank you.

Yes, but why me?

I don't believe in ghosts.

AII that spook stuff,
spirits rapping and so on.

Load of rubbish.
Why should I hear the damn thing?

Many of the best mediums
are made from confirmed sceptics.

It isn't by any means the case that
those interested in occult phenomena

are those who experience
manifestations of it.

- Yes, but what are we going to do?
- You're going to struggle with torts,

at which you are quite bad.

If you hurry
you'II manage to catch your train.

- I'II be in the Dragon's Head at 6:00.
- Yes. Look, just one thing.

- What's that?
- Well, the girl...

What about her?

I'm sure she's...
well, alright, you know.

You didn't tell me she was pretty.
Cheer up.

If I'm not mistaken, the mystery
started well before her time.

You actually went to the cottage?
You spoke to her?

Yes, and you were correct,
the young Iady is most attractive.

But the visit was not the most
informative period of my day,

- although I did establish two things.
- Yes?

Mademoiselle Marchaud, that's her
name. She's French, comes from Tours.

- Felise. Herfather's very ill.
- Oh, yes, I know, I heard him.

I established that the cottage
possesses a reputation Iocally

and Mademoiselle Marchaud is frightened,

not merely
of herfather's impending death.

- What is she frightened of?
- I don't know.

I couldn't interrogate the poor girl.

- Then I went to the bookseller.
- Mr Dodds?

Luckily he's a Iocal historian
or I might have taken days over it.

- Over what?
- The history of one of yourfamily.

Sir Harry Hartington.

- Mad Sir Harry, as I gather he's known.
- Yes.

- What do you know about him?
- He's said to have confessed to murder.

Some girl.
Uncle George was rather vague.

He did confess on his deathbed

that 30 years before
he had murdered his mistress.

Same again?

- PIease...
- Yes, I'II bring it over to you, sir.

He murdered his mistress?
What else did you find out?

Not much immediately,
just the outline of the story.

A hint that the girl
was either being paid by Sir Harry,

or she had been blackmailing him
shortly before she disappeared.

Anyway, she seems to have had money.

And one fine day she vanished
off theface of the earth.

There were a Iot of woods round here
then:foresters, charcoal burners.

The woods were searchedfor days
with no result.

She was never seen or heard of again
until your grandfather's confession.

Thank you, Mr Hubble.

- So we know nothing else?
- Yes, we do and this is incredible.

She was Iast seen in the place
where she Iived, the Marchauds' cottage!

(church bellsringing)

Excuse me, sir. Sorry to interrupt.
I wouldn't normally do itfor the world.

What's up, Agnes?

There's this young person
wishes to speak to you.

Erm, she's aforeign person.

Calls herself... sniggers)

FIeas Marsha!(Laughs)
Really! Honestly! snorts)

- Anyway, it's urgent, she says.
- Where is she?

In the Iounge
so you can speak to her confidential.

Right. I'II come at once.

I'II put these books in my room
and collect my pipe.

You go and make the girl at home.

- Mademoiselle.
- Monsieur.

May I offer you something?
A glass of sherry? Coffee, perhaps?

Thank you, no.
I must not stay Iong. Myfather...

- Of course. Thank you, Agnes.
- Tsk!

- I owe you an apology, monsieur.
- No, I'm sure you don't.

Oh, yes, I do.
I doubted you and now I'm repaid.

I've also heard the voice.
The cry!

Oh, thank God.

- You know Dr Lavington?
- Mademoiselle.

Yes. But I didn't know...
I've told Dr Lavington all about it.

- About...?
- About what I heard. Whatwe heard.

- Yes, I've heard it too.
- May I ask when, mademoiselle?

This morning. I was in the garden.
It was nearly half past seven.

- I Iookedfor you.
- I didn't play this morning.

What did the voice say?

- "Murder! Help! Murder!"
- That's it. You see, Doctor?

Go on, mademoiselle.

- Must I?
- I want you to tell me everything.

Well, at first I did not...

How do you say?
..put it together with the dream.

- But all day I've thought...
- The dream? What dream?

It's difficult to explain.

I dream and yet I do not dream.

The first time I do not remember waking,
but I was awake.

There was greatfear.

In my nostrils was a smell, a strong
smell, Iike a bonfire after a rainstorm.

I got up, searched the house,
and there had been no fire.

The next time it was a true dream.

I am in the cottage...

Again there is the smell...

..but now I'm dreaming the smell.

A girl dressed in old-fashioned clothes
stands before me.

At first I see only herface.

There is beauty there, but... much pain.

Much pain.

Then I... I see that
she's holding out towards me a...

..a tall...

- ..jar?
- Jar. Yes.

I Iook at the jar...

It's beautiful.

BIue pattern...

..with flowers... and fruits...

- And then?
- I don't know.

I remember herface,
which is pleading with me.

She sobs)

And I remember my ownfear.

Mostly I remember thefear.

(doctor) How Iong has this
been going on, mademoiselle?

It started afew weeks
after we moved into the cottage.

Now I... dread the night!

You should escort
Mademoiselle Marchaud home.

Yes.

I can hardly tell you not to worry.
I don't want to trivialise yourfear.

AII I can tell you
is that you are no Ionger alone.

PIease...

Don't come any further, because
of myfather, you... you understand?

Of course. I'II stand and watch
until you're indoors.

I think you're a good man.

Oh. Terrific, yes.

- Will I see you again tomorrow?
- Mmm.

I want to hear what your doctor friend
has to say, don't you?

Yes, I do.

Then I shall see you tomorrow.

- Goodbye.
- Aurevoir

Damn!

- You called, sir?
- What?

- Yeah.
- This coffee, Agnes...

- Too hot, sir.
- Yes.

Oh, as usual. I keep telling them.
Shall I take it away?

- No, Ieave it.
- It's no bother, sir.

- Morning, sir.
- Morning, morning.

Good morning! You're early.

- I decided not to play.
- Very sensible.

Actually... I've been
trying to remember.

You know that jar
the girl was talking about?

Oh, the one the woman in the dream
was holding?

Yes. I think I've seen one
Iike it before.

- Really?
- I can't think where.

Huh! Still,
I've got conveyancing today.

- Conveyancing, eh?
- I'm not bad at conveyancing.

Good.

- Got it!
- Yes?

Hoped you'd be here.
It's what we talked about this morning.

Mr Hubble, a pint, please,
and... what's yours?

- A small whisky, if you'd be so good.
- And a small whisky.

The blue jar. Remember?

Ah, yes, the blue jar.

Yeah, you see, Uncle George
has got one in his hallway.

Has he really?

- Is there something wrong?
- No.

Well, your Mr Dodds
is a mine of Iocal information.

Buried treasure and goodness knows what
this morning.

Really?

Remember I said there were
charcoal burners in the woods?

Yes.

They used to move through the woods
Iike gypsies.

But it seems they had
one main camp near the village.

Last of the charcoal burners
Ieft to join up 20 years ago,

and the campsite was turned over
to new housing.

When they were diggingfoundations
for the houses

theyfound the charcoal burner's
treasure: a tin box,

Iots of coins, bits of gold jewellery,

and, most importantly,
a bag of Victorian gold sovereigns

worth hundreds today, of course.

Yes. Look, I think this jar
might be important.

Hartington, I'm afraid I told you
an untruth a minute ago.

- Something is the matter.
- What?

I went to see the Marchauds
this morning.

I'm very worried about that girl.
I think she might well be in danger.

- What?
- Not danger in the usual sense, but...

Danger all the same.

(Uncle George)
Power ofthespirit, m'boy.

(Felse) Beautiful...
Blue patternwithflowers andfruits.

(Uncle George) Neverunderestimate it,
power ofthespirit.

(Felse) i canremembermy ownfear
Mostly irememberthefear

(Dr Lavington)You got afour, surely,
atthelast hole,didn'tyou?

Just a cup of coffee, Agnes.
I'm awfully Iate.

Right, sir.

I overslept.

Thank you.

- Hartington, I've been a completefool.
- What?

Not Iistening to you mostly, not seeing
what was under my own nose.

I think the key to the whole thing
might be the jar.

- I tried to tellyou that.
- I know. I apologise.

I wasfollowing a theory of my own.

I think it is essential
that all three of us meet this evening.

- Yes, alright! At the pub?
- Yes.

Good. Sorry, I really must dash.
Will you organise it?

- Of course.
- Good.

- Here you are, sir.
- Oh, thanks.

Let us suppose the events
were asfollows:

Mad Sir Harry paid the charcoal burners
not only to do away with the girl,

but get rid of the body also. That would
accountfor the treasure, would it not?

Yes. And the smell of burning
in your dream.

The most persistentfeature
of Mademoiselle Marchaud's dream

was the unaccountable smell
of burning.

What does it mean?

The whole meaning eludes me at the
moment. But some things I do know.

The shedding of innocent blood

is at the centre of the most powerful
myths in the history of the occult.

And not only that.

"The voice of thy brother's blood
cryeth unto me from the ground."

I believe that this girl's blood cries
to us now. It has waited a Iong time.

It has at Iastfound two sensitives,
yourself and Mademoiselle Marchaud,

- through whom to make the Iink.
- Now I see.

Yes, but why the blue jar, monsieur?

Of all things in the dream
I seem to see it most clearly of all.

- What is this thing?
- What do you think, Hartington?

There's one Iike it
at my uncle's house.

It could have come
from thefamily home.

Though what it could have to do
with this beats me.

It could be the key.
To what, we don't know.

A key is meaningless in itself,
but can be the means to great things.

The blue jar could be some Iink
in the pattern of energies

which allowed you to hear
this girl's voice.

That voice requires something of us,
and we should Iisten to whatever it is.

Yes, but how?

- Can you get hold of the jar?
- Of course. Uncle George won't mind.

It's only used as an umbrella stand.
In any case, he's on holiday.

Do you believe we can do it, Dr...?

Lavington.

Lay to rest a perturbed spirit?

If only that could be.

We should try this out
as soon as possible.

I'II run and get it.
Shall I meet you both at the cottage?

Yes. Good man.

À bientôt, mademoiselLe.

À bientôt.

(cat meows)

Shh!

Jack!

Ah, Uncle George!

Dear boy, what on earth are you doing?
Can I help?

Uncle George,... you're back early.

Funked it, I'm afraid.
Dreadful crossing.

Lost a perfectly good breakfast
to the fishes.

And the sight of Calais
and the smell of French tobacco

and that pansy Ianguage, all too...

Hello! Where on earth
did you find that?

(chuckles)
Do you know, I thought I'd Iost it?

No, I had to rest up in Paris
for a couple of days.

Sent a wire: "Indisposed."

Awful coward, and your aunt will wreak
her vengeance, but there we are.

- I say, you Iook terrible. What's up?
- Well, it's a Iong story.

You need a brandy. Come in the den
and tell me all about it.

By God, Jack, that is a pretty rum tale.
And you think there's something in it?

Yes, I do.

Well, what did I tell you?
"More things in heaven and earth", eh?

This gal of yours, pretty, is she?

She's beautiful.

- French, you say?
- Yes.

Ah. Well, when you've sorted this Iot
out you'd better get down to some work.

You'II have to pass your exams
after all.

Supporting agedforeign in-Iaws
doesn't exactly come cheap, you know.

Well, Iad, take that damn pot of yours
and keep your rendezvous.

I say, thanks awfully, Uncle George.

I say,

- nothing dangerous, is there?
- No!

No, Lavington knows exactly
what he's doing.

Oh, well, that's alright, then.
Off you go.

Thanks awfully.

Oh!

Oh, good evening!

Yeah, yeah.

- You've come. I was worried.
- I wouldn't Iet you down.

No. I know.

Listen, we must be quiet.

Myfather is asleep upstairs.
We must not wake him.

No, of course.

I've made some coffeefor you.

Well done, Hartington.

Now, Iet's see if
Mademoiselle Marchaud can identify it.

Yes.

Ohh!

It's alright.
We're all in this together.

Sit down, mademoiselle.

We will need all our strength,

all our clarity of mind,
all our resources of will.

Hartington, we've been drinking strong
black coffee and I suggest you do too.

It may be a Iong session. It will
require great concentration from us all.

Yes, of course.
Are you sure you're alright?

Yes.

- And you?
- Yes.

Sorry, that's a bit hotfor me.
Shall we?

Take your time.

You haven't told us yet
what we have to do.

What we have totry to do.
We may not succeed.

Nevertheless, we must try.

Oh, yes, we must try.

AII our energies must combine
in the corporate purpose

of sensing what there is
in this place.

A pulse of energy,
afaint residue of spirit,

half evaporated by time,
gathering itself into a voice.

Yes, I see.

(man,weakly) Felise! Felise!

Ah.

- Excuse me a moment. Myfather.
- Of course.

Make him comfortable, mademoiselle.
It is essential we are not interrupted.

Oui, bien sûr

Jeviens,Papa!

Ah, Felise...

Right, I'm ready.

Sit down, mademoiselle.

- Er, shall I...?
- Yes.

I don't mind admitting
I'm slightly apprehensive.

If we can Iay this poor girl's spirit
to rest, she will be eternally grateful.

(breathesdeeply)

Right, we shall begin.

PIace your hands over the jar
Iike this.

(breathesdeeply)

As the eyes close, unwilled,
Iet them close.

Good.

As the eyes close,
feel the initial drift of the spirit.

Help it. Let it go.

Drift on the wind.

Ride your breath.

Threads on the air.

AIert, silent, seeking...

We call to you
through your chosen medium

to reveal yourself
through one of us.

We, the triangle which makes
the circle, the star on the void,

six:handed, embracing nothing.

We are one and ready.

Use us...

Use us...

Use us...

- And another one.
- Ah!

Very nicely illustrated in the manner
of the great Thomas Bewick.

Some of the finest woodcuts
achieved

outside the workshop
of that finest of masters, infact.

An amusing chapter
on eider ducks and shovelers.

Rooks, damn it, rooks!

- Rooks?
- Rooks!

The voice disturbed the rooks!

Jack described it to me plain as day.
I knew there was something wrong.

You don't disturb rooks
with voices in your head.

There's some sort of deception
going on.

But the question is why, Dodds, why?

Er...

Ah!

You're an educated chap.
Perhaps you could make some sense of it.

Er, yes. Well, yes,
I'd be delighted to try.

Good man. It all began
with my nephew coming down here

to swotfor his Iaw exams
and practise his golf.

We are ready.

We are one and ready.

We have reached the hiding places
of time, and are ready.

Without mind, we are ready.

Without will, we are ready.

Like a vessel, we are void.

Choose one of us! choose!

-(moans)
- choose! choose!

I thought he'd never drink
the damn stuff. Quick, ropes.

La corde.

He must have a constitution
Iike an ox! Huh!

I was beginning to run out
of mystical mumbo-jumbo.

Never mind.

We've got it.

Pierre! Pierre!

Pierre.

Ça y est?

Oui.Toutva bien.

Sighs)

-Très bien, ma petite!
-(Felselaughs)

Oh, Pierre...

Tu es prêt?

- Are you sure?
- Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, completely.

AII this talk about woods,

there were no woods around here
in Victorian times.

What?

- The woods you see now, they're recent.
- Well, yes, but...

I think Lavington invented it
to, well, credit the girl's story.

You mean she's his accomplice?

Yes, there... there must be a key...
key to it somewhere.

Well, it isn't the woods,
so it can't be the gypsies.

No, no.

- Could be the jar, possibly?
- Jar?

It's the jar. It's the blue jar.

Why?

- Hmm?
- Why?

Because it has no real connection
with the story.

Don't you see? AII attention
has beenfocused on the ghost story.

The blue jar's only been added
as a sort offootnote.

Lavington is up to something
and it's to do with that blue jar.

Yes, but it's only an old pot we keep
umbrellas and walking sticks in.

But is it?
What do you know about it?

Not much. Came out of thefamily home.
Been stuck out in the hall ever since.

- Has Lavington seen it?
- You brought him herefor sherry.

Oh, did I?

I've got the pair to it
in the spare room, as a matter offact.

Have you indeed?

I'II go and get it.

- Come on, there's a Iot to be done.
- Relax, he's asleep until the next day.

That's not the point.
Some servant may notice it's gone.

Not a minute to waste. Got the bag?

- Yes.
- Check the ropes.

- Cheng what?
- Wa. Cheng Wa.

- It's 1 5th-century Chinese.
- Is it?

It says here a single specimen went
at auction recentlyfor 1 0,000 guineas.

What?!

So a pair...

Don't tell me. Get the police.
I need a drink.

Right, are we ready?

- Did he say how Iong they'd be?
- Well, he said he'd come at once.

I explained that it might be
a matter of Iife or death.

(Uncle George)
It might be a matter of 1 0,000 guineas!

- Ah!
- Hmm?

Sorry to keep you, Major.

I couldn't find my clips.

I set off with my trousers in my socks
when the wife calls me back.

Found my clips.
Now, what seems to be the matter?

- Just get in. I'II explain as we go.
- I'II put this in the back, shall I?

Certainly not! Lean it against the wall.
Nobody's going to pinch it.

We'II take a short cut
through Hallow's Farm.

- That's private property.
- That's right.

(footsteps)

- Jack!
- Well, I never!

- The jar. I can't see the jar.
- Never mind the jar, help me untie him.

- Oh.
- Just a moment, sir.

"Is the day of the supernatural over?"

"Not quite, especially when tricked out
in new scientific Ianguage."

"Kindest regards from...

Felise, invalidfather and myself."

"Yours ever, Ambrose Lavington,

doctor of the soul."

-(groans)
- Awake at Iast, eh?

- Ah, Uncle George!
- Are youfeeling alright?

Yes... How Iong have I been?

Oh, about 1 5 hours.

Nearly Iunchtime.

I'm afraid Lavington
and his accomplices got away.

What? Accomplices?

I'm sorry, old boy,
I'm afraid you've been conned.

Not... Not Felise?

It was my blue jar they were after.
Worth a smallfortune apparently.

Oh... What a damnfool I've been.

Oh, cheer up, m'boy.
Police are quite hopeful.

The vase is too big to hide easily.
They'II never get it out of the country.

Anyway, I've still got the other one.

- I say, I'm sorry.
- Oh, that's alright.

I just wish things were a bit more
cheerful on the domestic front.

- Afraid your aunt's back.
- Oh, dear.

Not as cross as she might have been.

She couldn't be.
She brought afemale relative with her.

Sort of distant cousin of
yours, actually. Portia Bickerstaff.

Portia Bickerstaff?

Yes, I met her about five years ago.
Awful Iittle tyke. Pigtails and a Iisp.

Yes, well, I'm sorry about this,
old boy,

but I'm afraid she's...
expecting to play golf.

And not to put too fine a point on it,
she's Surrey Ladies' Champion.

No!

Couldn't agree more.

Look, she wants to see you.

- Can I Iet her in?
- Oh, no, Uncle.

I'II rescue you after a minute or two.
Say you shouldn't waste your strength.

AIright.

I say... I'm sorry.

Oh, don't be so damn silly.
Women, what!

(groans)

-(knock ondoor)
- come in.

Hello, cousin Jack.
May I call you Jack?

Portia!

Gosh!

What? Um, yes!

Oh, yes, do!