All language subtitles for Rumpole s01e05 Friends.eng

Downloaded From www.AllSubs.org

(Traffic passes)

(Muffled explosion)

(CIock ticking)

(Groans)

Rumpole, you're not normal.

(Groans) I'm dying.

Nonsense.
What did Dr Hanson say it was?

Death.

He says there's a lot of it about.

(Sighs)

(Man) Look, we know
you done the post office.

- You got nothing to say to me, Charlie?
- Bail.

He had the gun. That what you want
to tell me? You only did the safe.

My missus is queer.
Are you opposing bail?

You talk about the safe,
and I'll talk about bail.

- Is that a promise?
- Course it's a promise.

Shake hands on it.

You afraid to shake hands
with a copper?

All right, Charlie.
That didn't hurt now, did it?

(Sighs)

"Now more than ever
seems it rich to die

"To cease upon the midnight
with no pain.

"Fade far away,
dissolve and quite forget

"What thou among the leaves
has never known.

"The weariness, the fever and the fret..."

(Hilda) Dr Hanson says you're not dying,
you've just got flu. Open!

Oh!

(Burps) Oh, imagine.
Death, no more judges.

No more bowing and scraping,
"If Your Lordship pleases."

No more listening to interminable,
turgid speeches

from my learned friends,
the prosecution.

(Telephone rings)

"To cease upon the midnight..."

- (Hilda) You can't speak to Mr Rumpole.
- Who can't?

- He's busy at the present.
- I'm not busy!

He's busy dying.
Or that's what he says.

- 'He's not available for a case? '
- No, Henry. Not this week.

It's my clerk, Henry!
Give me the phone!

- Henry!
- 'How are you feeling? '

- Oh, I'm not too bad.
- 'Not dying, then, sir? '

No, reports of my death
have been greatly exaggerated. Ha!

- Touch of flu, that's all.
- 'Handle a touch of safe-blowing? '

- Safe-blowing?
- 'Brixton, 2:30.'

- Brixton, 2:30? I shall be there.
- 'Are you sure, sir? '

- Quite sure. I'll fling on a few togs.
- 'Champion, Mr Rumpole.'

- But you were dying, Rumpole.
- Dying? No!

Dying will have to be postponed.

Safe-blowing comes first.

- Stack of letters piling up for you here.
- (Woman) OK.

(Frobisher) Morning.

- Frobisher?
- What is it, Erskine-Brown?

I've got your Particulars of Nuisance
all over my Defence and Counterclaim.

Sorry about that.
Henry put me in here last night.

- Morning, Miss Trant.
- Morning.

Hoskins had a conference
in our room.

The accommodation problems
in these Chambers are ridiculous.

My new pupil has to share a desk
with Philly.

Afraid I can't help you. There isn't room
to put a cup of tea down upstairs.

Oh, really!

I'll just have to hang on in this Black
Hole of Calcutta a little while longer.

- He can't be with us for ever.
- Who can't?

Rumpole.
He's bound to retire some time.

He's a good age, and Henry was
telling me he's not been at all well.

(Door closes)

- Morning, Rumpole.
- Oh, morning.

- I thought you were off sick.
- No, completely recovered now.

(Sneezes)
Sorry to disappoint you.

(Trant) Nasty cold you've got.
Oughtn't you to be in bed?

Nose to the grindstone, Miss Trant!

Women are such industrious creatures!
What's your brief?

Just a thief. He'll have to plead guilty.
Doesn't want to, of course.

You twist his arm, Philly.
Excuse me.

Judges don't like wasting the court's
time with hopeless cases.

It's hopeless. He's said
such ridiculous things to the police.

"Never plead guilty" should be written
in letters a foot high in Chambers!

A foot high?
We haven't got room for it! Ha ha!

- Haven't seen you about lately.
- I've been dying.

Don't do that. I shall miss your help
with the crossword.

Oh, the justification for my existence,
helping Frobisher with his crossword.

Hello, Henry. Came as soon as I could.

I'm glad you've arrived, sir, cos they
want the two of you there at 12:00.

Bless you, love.
The two of us?

The defendant Wheeler's got
a certificate for two counsel.

Has he? Giving me a junior
to take notes?

Not exactly, Mr Rumpole.
You're being led.

They're briefing a silk.
You can take it easy for once.

I don't want to take it easy!
I'm off the leading rein, out of rompers!

I did the Penge Bungalow Murders
without a leader!

I'm sure they appreciate that,
Mr Rumpole.

- Hello, Rumpole.
- Hello, Guthrie.

- You'll see a lot of my back this week.
- What do you mean?

I'm leading you
on the post office robbery.

- You're leading me?
- Morning, Mr Featherstone.

You were quite right, Miss Trant.
I should've stayed at home in bed.

And died!

(Rumpole coughs)

If you ask me,
this case is as dead as a doornail.

So are we all, eventually.

- Wheeler's prints on a lump of gelignite?
- I know.

- Found by the safe?
- I know, I know.

(Rumpole coughing)

I wonder why he didn't leave
his visiting card!

I'll tell you. Old cons like Charlie
Wheeler don't have visiting cards.

After you, my learned leader.

Leaders always go into Brixton first.

(Hustle and bustle)

(Footsteps)

(Clink of keys)

(Featherstone) Thank you.

- (Rumpole) Morning.
- (Officer) Morning.

- (Wheeler) Glad to see you.
- Hello, Charlie.

It's amazing, the reputation
you've got round D wing.

They can write that on my tombstone -
"A great reputation round D wing."

- You're not dying?
- I've been considering it.

Cos I'm glad you're doing my case.

- Well, I'm not exactly doing your case.
- You're not?

No. Your case is being handled
by Mr Featherstone, QC MP.

His name is constantly mentioned
in the corridors of power.

Haven't heard of him
in the corridors of D wing.

- Rumpole, if I may?
- Sorry. Mr Featherstone, QC MP.

How do you do?
Right, now then, Wheeler...

- He means you, Charlie.
- Rumpole, please!

I shall make note of your words
of wisdom from now on.

- What I wanted to say, Wheeler, was...
- Bugger!

...we're here to fight this case...
- Not too fast, if you don't mind.

...to the best of my poor ability.

"My poor ability."

Mr Bernard has no doubt told you
who our judge is to be.

Judge Bullingham.

So any attack on the honesty
of the police...

Told you, Charlie.

...would act like a red rag
to a Bullingham! You told him that?

...would act like a red rag
to a Bullingham! You told him that?

Mr Bernard's explained it all to me.

- I don't want to lay into Dirty Dickerson.
- Who's that?

Detective Dickerson
is in charge of the case.

- There's not a whole lot of point.
- Well, exactly.

You see, the case against you
is indisputable,

so what's the point of annoying the judge
with a whole lot of questions?

If I was to say nothing against
Dickerson, if I was to keep quiet...

How much, Mr Rumpole?
I was hoping for an eight.

Eight? Ho ho! Hope springs eternal
in the human breast.

- In my experience...
- Listen to the wise words of the leader.

...any sort of attack on the police
in a case like this

will add considerably
to your sentence.

So, let's be sensible.

I must warn you, the time may come
when I have to throw in my hand.

You mean Charlie's hand, don't you?

Does he?

You can't make bricks without straw.

Down the Bailey, you've got to make
bricks without bricks! Straw's a luxury.

- Of course I'll mitigate.
- Mitigate?

"My Lord, my client only went in
to buy a 7 p stamp,

"but as he was kept waiting
by ten ladies with pension books

"he lost his patience
and blew the safe!"

Very good mitigation.

Look, forget mitigation for a minute.

What's the use of spending your life
in an attitude of perpetual apology?

Do you think that an old con
like Charlie Wheeler

would blow a safe
without wearing gloves?

Even at a sub-post office in Dartford?
Right!

Do you think he would have left a bit
of spare gelignite with his dabs on it?

Is that the mark of a professional,
I ask you?

Well, think about it, Featherstone.

It's about as likely as you standing up
in court and mitigating in your pyjamas!

Oh, dear. Is that yours?

(Indistinct chatter)

(Erskine-Brown)
Can't wait to see it.

(Trant) I heard the reviews on the radio.

I thought I'd visit old TC Rowley
in hospital. I hear he's not too well.

Well, who is nowadays?

I understand Uncle Tom
is distinctly seedy.

- Mind you, over 80, a good age.
- What's good about being over 80?

Mr Rumpole? Excuse me.
My name's Philbeam.

- Any messages for Uncle Tom?
- I write a column for...

Give him my love. Tell him
we'll all be joining him eventually.

Really, Rumpole!

Mr Philbeam. Sorry, sit down, sit down.

I think I've seen you on the press bench,
haven't I?

I'll always be grateful to you fellas
for the space you gave me

for the Penge Bungalow Murders.

I think that was before my time.

Yes, probably reported
by your grandfather.

I was in court when you defended
Ken Aspen. The rape case with the MP?

Not one of my major triumphs.

I was impressed with how
you cross-examined the girl.

- See you in the morning.
- Yes, all right, George.

- I'm just off to Uncle Tom.
- Do give him all our best.

See you tomorrow.

By the way, Henry told me that you're
prosecuting in the post office case.

- That's right.
- That's very civilised.

I don't mind an occasional crime.
Provided one's on the right side!

- The right side being the prosecution?
- Of course!

(Sneezes)

- I gather you're leading Rumpole in it.
- I hope to make that clear eventually.

- I'm sorry, make what clear?
- Who exactly is leading whom.

(Laughter)

(Rumpole coughs)

- (Rumpole) Well, cheers.
- (Philbeam) Cheers.

What I really wanted to ask you,
Mr Rumpole, was...

Yeah?

...you're defending Charlie Wheeler.
- Yes, an old acquaintance.

The officer on that case
is Detective Dickerson?

- That's right. Dirty Dickerson.
- You know how he got that name?

No, I don't. I suppose I should,
but I don't. Tell me all, Mr Philbeam.

I thought you might be interested.
I once interviewed a man called Harris.

Harry Harris. A sort of minor South
London villain. Loads of convictions.

Sounds like my sort of criminal.
Surprised I don't know him.

I never printed it, of course,
but Harris told me

Dickerson once handed him
a stolen cigarette case.

When Harris had his prints on it,

Dickerson asked him for 300 quid
not to prosecute him.

Glory hallelujah!

You're a blessing in excellent disguise.
I trust this was not an isolated incident?

I have a whole file on Dickerson.

I'd like to use it, but I can't yet.
The editor likes to win his libel actions.

Oh, don't we all?

Quite a lot of villains have Dickerson
on a regular retainer.

- Really?
- I thought you might be interested.

Indeed I am. Could you lay hands
on this Harry Harris for us?

I know the pubs he goes to.
Shouldn't be difficult.

Well, do try, Mr Philbeam.
Leave no pub unturned!

Harris could be the straw
we might make a couple of bricks with.

Here, drink up. Have another. Go on.

Mr Fingleton, are you an expert
in the matter of fingerprints?

Yes.

(BIowing)

Do you produce enlarged photographs
of the first, second and third fingers

of the defendant Wheeler?

Yes.

- Are those his admitted fingerprints?
- Those are admitted, My Lord.

- Very much obliged.
- (Mutters) I bet you are.

And do you also produce photographs
of the fingerprints on the gelignite?

- Exhibit 12?
- Yes.

(Erskine-Brown) What do you say
about those two sets of prints?

I found 32, er... distinct points of, er...

- Points of...
- Similarity!

And by that you mean...

The break in the first whorl
on the index finger, for instance.

(Crunching)

- It's the same in both cases.
- Yes, the jury can see that quite clearly.

And so, Mr Fingleton, what is
your conclusion? Just tell the jury.

My conclusion is
the fingerprints are identical.

(Rumpole coughs loudly)

Identical.

Thank you, Mr Fingleton.

- Mr Featherstone?
- Oh, no questions, My Lord.

Thank you, Mr Featherstone.

- What?
- I can't do anything with this evidence.

No, you can't!

I call Police Constable Hoddle, My Lord.

No bloody questions?

(BIowing)

(Groans)

You're not normal, Guthrie.
In fact, you're 102.

- You can't go to court tomorrow.
- I didn't realise it was so serious.

Well, it is. You're not getting pneumonia
for the sake of some petty thief.

We've got the Foreign Office dinner
next week and your speech.

Oh, yes, that's true.

Oh, dear!
It couldn't have come at a worse time.

Surely your junior can carry on.

There's really not much to do.
The sooner we plead guilty the better.

- Who is your junior?
- Horace Rumpole.

- Oh, well, he can do the mitigation.
- Yes, he can cope, I suppose.

I'll get the number for you.
Now, just drink this up.

- Oh, no!
- Yes, there we go.

I'm sorry you're not well, old dear.

(Featherstone) 'Yes. Listen, you realise,
of course, we've got to plead? '

- Oh, yes, of course.
- 'It's vital we don't attack the police.'

- Absolutely!
- 'Now, Rumpole... '

No, it's all right,
I'll adopt your technique.

I did admire that so much -
"No questions, My Lord."

- 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'
- Stay in bed. 24 hours at least.

You don't want a relapse.
Leave everything to me.

Rely on Rumpole! Bye!

"O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

"He chortled in his joy."

- What's the matter with you?
- Matter? Nothing is the matter.

It is an occasion for rejoicing.

I have given my learned leader
the flu.

Hoo hoo!

(Guffaws)

- Excuse me, please. Good morning.
- Good morning.

(Trant) Morning...

- Mr Rumpole's Chambers?
- Correct.

- I wonder if he's in yet...
- (Rumpole) Philbeam, old darling!

There you are.

- Have you found Harris for me yet?
- No. I must've been to 20 pubs.

Morning, Rumpole.

I have a number where his sister works.
But no one'll be there till 9:30.

Do keep trying. We may be all set
for the unmasking of Dirty Dickerson!

- Inland Revenue.
- Oh, thank you very much.

- Inland Revenue.
- Oh, thank you very much.

- We've had a piece of luck on this case.
- What's that?

Mr Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP,
the world's greatest mitigator,

is docked in bed
for the remainder of the trial!

- Wretched luck about Featherstone.
- Wretched!

Isn't that wonderful? Come on.

Got Wheeler, have you?
Charlie Wheeler?

I don't think he's gone out anywhere.
He don't get many invitations. Ha!

- (Joyce) Mr Rumpole?
- Joyce.

- I'm afraid the conference is off.
- Off?

- Mr Bernard's gone to a funeral.
- Not his?

- No, a client's.
- That's all right, then.

I'll just pop down and see Charlie.

- But I'm on a fraud in the West Court.
- That's all right. You run along.

I believe I can cope with a conference
alone without help.

Mr Rumpole?

It's all right, love. Run along. Chop-chop!

Charlie, have you ever paid
Dirty Dickerson any money?

What, sweeten him?
Nah, I'd never entertain it.

- Never?
- Never.

I do know some
that have sweetened him.

A-ha! Like Harry Harris?

- Huh! You know lot, don't you?
- Well, I try to keep abreast.

So, you were known to the inspector
as a dedicated non-payer?

You could say that.
Mr Featherstone not here today, then?

No, we've had a bit of luck
with Mr Featherstone.

He's got the flu.

It says here somewhere...
Here we are.

Dickerson was about to offer you bail.
Is that right?

- Yeah, but that seemed funny to me.
- Very funny with your record.

- Course, he wanted something for it.
- Ah, the old...

No, he was asking me
to put my hands up.

A confession?
You weren't going to do it?

I wouldn't do that.
It's not the way I work.

All the same, I did string him along a bit.
I let him think we might do a deal.

- Got a light?
- I'm sorry...

- We even shook hands on it, like.
- What?

We shook hands on a deal.
He put his hand out and he took mine.

Have you ever had your hand
taken by an inspector before?

No, only my collar.

Look, show me
how he shook hands with you.

- Now, you be the inspector, I'll be you.
- Well, er...

It was all over in a second.

No, no. I never made no statement.
It's not in my character.

How did he look when he shook hands?
Did he look triumphant?

- Did he look pleased with himself?
- Dunno. I couldn't hardly see him.

What?

It was in my cell in the Dartford nick,
2:00 of a morning. I was half asleep.

And him... he was in the dark, like.

- He did seem a little bit nervous.
- Nervous?

You expect from a man of his build
a firm grip.

His hand was a bit clammy.
Like soft, you know?

Well!

How you feeling about this case?

- Feel like stout Cortez.
- Who?

"Cortez, when with eager eye
he stared at the Pacific,

"and his men looked at each other
with a wild surmise."

- You got me there, Mr Rumpole.
- Keats.

- Ah...
- Sorry, here.

It's been an autumn of Keats, really.

"To cease upon the midnight
with no pain..."

Well, enough of that!
I'm completely recovered.

- Rumpole resurrected!
- You reckon we got a chance?

A tiny chance, Charlie. Like a small
electric light bulb in a dark cell.

Has this Keats been
straightening Dickerson, then?

No, but Harry Harris has.

Look, I can't call you, understand?

I can't let the jury have your excellent
record as a safe-blower read to them.

- But I want your express instructions.
- What have you got in mind?

I think we ought to ask Dirty Dickerson
a few distasteful questions.

- With your permission.
- I can think of a few.

I'll bet!

Now let's see. Something like...

- (Erskine-Brown) You have exhibit 12?
- I have, My Lord.

(Erskine-Brown) We've heard that
Wheeler's prints are on that gelignite.

- Where did you find it?
- Beside the safe at the crime scene.

- At the Dartford post office?
- Yes, My Lord.

Thank you, Detective Inspector.

Have you any questions you want
to ask the Detective, Mr Rumpole?

- Just a few, My Lord.
- Then let's get on with it.

- You know a man called Harry Harris?
- I know a Harry Harris.

- Friend of Charlie Wheeler's?
- Yes.

- How would you describe him?
- You want me to describe him?

Mr Rumpole has asked you the question.

Presumably he's prepared
to take the risk of you answering it.

Harris is a minor villain
round the Dartford area, sir.

You see the danger of asking questions,
Mr Rumpole?

Ever had any financial
dealings with Harris?

- My Lord!
- Do not interrupt my cross-examination.

How are questions about this Harris
relevant to the case of Wheeler?

Is Harris connected with this case?

- Not this case, but I hope to show...
- Then your question is irrelevant.

My Lord, when the character of this
witness is brought into question...

Oh, really? Are you attacking
the character of this police officer?

I am not offering him a gold medal.

I see your learned leader is not in court.

No, unfortunately struck down by the flu.

Then I can only assume you are making
this attack on instructions.

I take full responsibility, My Lord.

Would you like me to adjourn
your cross-examination

before you have crossed the Rubicon?

Thank you, My Lord.
But I am quite happy to proceed.

- (Clears throat)
- (Rumpole) Ssh!

I assume you're not making
this suggestion

without being in a position
to call this man Harris?

Of course I can call him.

(Dickerson)
My Lord, may I say something?

Of course, Detective Inspector.
What is it?

I wanted to say that I have never
had any financial dealings

with the man Mr Rumpole mentioned.

(Judge) "I have never had
any financial dealings..."

Very well. Mr Rumpole has his answer.

It may not be quite the one he expected,
but he has his answer.

- Yes?
- His sister's not seen him for two years.

- You want me to keep trying?
- Yes, for God's sake, keep trying.

Is that all, Mr Rumpole?

Not quite, My Lord.

Detective Inspector, when Charlie
Wheeler was in the Dartford nick...

Where?

In the police cells
at the Dartford police station.

There is such a thing as the English
language, Mr Rumpole.

It is just as well to use it!

Did you have any occasion
in the cells at Dartford police station

to shake Charlie Wheeler by the hand?

Is my English plain enough for you?

Shake his hand? I may have done.

- Ever shaken a prisoner's hand before?
- Not that I can remember.

Then why shake Charlie Wheeler's?

Your client told me he was
about to make a confession statement.

I was congratulating him
on showing a bit of sense.

Is that the answer you wanted,
Mr Rumpole?

Yes, My Lord, it is.

I wish to establish that this officer
took my client by the hand.

As he was prepared
to make a confession.

Did you discuss bail
with Charlie Wheeler on that occasion?

Bail? No, sir. There was no discussion
of bail whatsoever.

Did you say that you would not oppose
bail if he made a confession?

I said nothing of the sort, My Lord.

Mr Rumpole, are they any further
allegations of impropriety

to be made against this officer?

Only one, My Lord.
Could I have exhibit 12, please?

Thank you.

That is the piece of gelignite.

With your client's fingerprints on it.

- Who found this piece of gelignite?
- I did. At the scene of the crime.

- Did you show it to any other officer?
- When I got back to the station.

Oh! When you got back to the station?

So the jury must rely in this case
on your evidence alone?

That this piece of gelignite
was ever at the scene of the crime?

If my evidence isn't good enough...

If your evidence isn't good enough,
Wheeler is entitled to an acquittal.

Have you ever, in your long experience,

known a safe-blower
to leave a piece of gelignite

at the scene of the crime
with his fingerprints on it?

If criminals never made mistakes,

we would never have trials
at the Old Bailey, Mr Rumpole.

There is another possibility
the jury may consider.

- Is there?
- Yes.

We have no idea when Charlie's
prints got on this piece of gelignite.

- Haven't we?
- Or where?

Is it possible, Detective Inspector,

that Charlie Wheeler
only touched this gelignite

in the cells at the Dartford
police station?

- I don't know what you mean.
- In a dark cell, at 2:00 in the morning.

Do you think you had it in your hand
when you shook hands with him,

as you had never shaken hands
with a prisoner before?

If Wheeler is saying that, if... then it's
all lies. You know that, Mr Rumpole.

If Wheeler is saying that, if... then it's
all lies. You know that, Mr Rumpole.

"All lies."

And unsupported, as far as I can see,
by a scrap of evidence.

I think it would come as a relief
if we adjourned for luncheon.

Detective Inspector,
you're still under cross-examination.

- Two o'clock.
- (Usher) Be upstanding!

Featherstone's heard from the doctor.
He's to stay in bed for the week.

- How jolly for him.
- He was asking, "Is it all over?"

Tell him it's all going according to plan.
Nothing to send his temperature up.

I told my thief not to plead guilty,
and it's all going like a dream.

- Oh, is it?
- Excuse me... sir.

- I took your advice...
- (Erskine-Brown) Philly?

Won't be a minute. It seems the police
never gave him a caution.

And the judge is with me. He keeps
saying, "Answer Miss Trant's question."

- Good news from somewhere.
- You were right to say fight everything.

Fight everything...
What else have we got left to do?

Wheeler, I take the most serious view
of the violent crime

of which the jury has
quite rightly convicted you.

You've not made matters any better
for yourself by your vicious attack

made through your counsel
on the honesty of the police!

- (Wheeler) I never wanted...
- (Judge) Silence!

I never wanted my barrister to ask
them questions! I told him to keep quiet!

You have the most appalling record.

The least sentence I can pass
is one of 12 years' imprisonment.

Take him down.

Thank you, Mr Rumpole.

(Judge) Just one moment!

I have something to add, Mr Rumpole.

My Lord?

Your attack on the integrity
of Detective Inspector Dickerson

was not only unsupported
by the evidence,

it was apparently made
without instructions.

I take the most serious view of it.

(Rumpole) '14 years? '

I intend to report the matter
in the proper quarter.

- If Your Lordship pleases.
- (Usher) Be upstanding!

Reported to the Benchers of your Inn.

A disciplinary hearing before the Senate.

My dear Rumpole,
I don't want to worry you...

On the contrary, you're having
a most calming effect.

I have thought about it, you know?
Retiring from the bar.

Perhaps to open a market garden
behind Gloucester Road tube station.

- I've had to write to the Senate myself.
- Yes, of course.

To tell them that the attack
on Dirty Dickerson was an escapade

dreamt up by your learned junior.

That's perfectly understandable.

You'll confirm that, of course.

Don't worry, old sweetheart,
you've got a perfect alibi.

(Laughs)

Don't you rather wish now
that you'd been laid up with flu?

You want the truth, guv'nor?
You got me bang to rights!

- Rumpole!
- I enjoyed every minute of it!

I swear to God I was onto something.
If I'd had a bit of straw...

I hope you're not going to say that
in front of the Senate!

Well, what would you suggest I said
as my brief?

In your enthusiasm, understandable
on behalf of your client's interests,

you were carried away, Rumpole.

In the heat of the moment,
you attacked the honesty

of a senior police officer
which you now... deeply regret.

If Your Lordship pleases.

- The worst aspect...
- What'll they give me, probation?

The worst aspect is that you proceeded
entirely without instructions!

Oh, but I did have instructions.

- From Wheeler?
- That's right.

- And he denied them?
- What do you expect?

- You have notes of them?
- I'm too old to take notes.

- I carry things in my head.
- Bernard will have taken notes.

- Bernard was off at a funeral.
- Then Joyce...

Joyce wasn't there.

She was doing a fraud with Hoskins
in the West Court.

Are you telling me that you actually
saw the client alone?

Good God!

Oh, I don't know. It all seems
perfectly simple to me.

No... I shall have to give it
a great deal of thought.

Give what a great deal of thought?

What am I going to say on your behalf!
To the Senate!

Say? I don't want you to say anything.

You'd only mitigate.

(Door closes)

- George?
- Yes, Rumpole? Oh, thank you.

What the devil are you doing here?

- Your wife invited me to dinner.
- Yes...

She just telephoned me at Chambers
and asked me.

For the first time in eight years.

Why do you think Hilda had the sudden
urge to have you share our cutlet?

You know perfectly well
Hilda's worried, Rumpole.

- Oh?
- And so am I.

- Worried by this stand you're taking.
- What stand is that?

This wretched fellow, this Wheeler.

Ah!

How can he be worth you risking
your career over?

Hilda says you admitted that
he was a professional safe-blower.

Exactly, George! Professional.

That is the operative word.

So he wouldn't leave his fingerprints
all over the shop, would he?

Look, do you honestly believe,
hand on heart,

that this fellow Wheeler was innocent?

- Now what sort of a question is that?
- But I mean in this particular case.

How many of your clients
can you swear were innocent?

So you don't believe he was innocent!

If you want my view,
which is strictly irrelevant...

All the same, I should like an answer
to my question.

Oh, well done. We'll make
a cross-examiner of you yet.

Well, all right, the answer's no.

No, I don't believe he was innocent.

In fact, I think that Charlie Wheeler
probably did blow that safe.

So? No injustice was done.

- Probably not.
- Well, that is good news.

- You've seen sense at last.
- (Hilda) What's good news?

Ah, Hilda. I honestly believe that
Horace has seen sense at last.

(Hilda) I knew you'd be able
to talk to him, George.

Rumpole's always told me,
"George is so sensible."

He's always had
enormous respect for you.

Thank you, Rumpole.

Featherstone agrees with me that
it can be dealt with by an apology.

And now you've admitted it was
unnecessary to attack the officer...

Unnecessary?
Did you say unnecessary?

- Black or white, George?
- Black, please.

You said yourself that this fellow
Wheeler was almost certainly guilty!

Guilty or innocent is not the point.
That's not our business, and you know it!

That is for 12 puzzled old darlings
pulled in off the street to decide.

But we can make sure that
they are not lied to or deceived

by some smiling copper doing
conjuring tricks in a dark cell, can't we?

Oh, yes.
Have some more port.

Talk to him, George, please.

I did talk to him. Listen, Rumpole!
Forget Wheeler for a moment.

- You've got yourself to think about.
- I am thinking of myself.

Hilda, with the insurance
and what we'd get for this flat,

we can buy quite a nice little cottage.

- And a small-holding.
- Small-holding? George!

Have you gone mad?
You wouldn't know what to do with it.

Dig it and dung it,
that's what you do with it.

Grow the things I've always
been fond of - artichokes, leeks,

parsnips, marrows,

and in the fullness of time,
your actual asparagus.

(Indistinct chatter)

- A list of seeds and things.
- How old is Rumpole? Is he going a bit...

- No!
- You sound very positive.

First thing he ever taught me was never
underestimate the cunning of Rumpole.

I don't think he's being very cunning
in this instance.

Obstinate, incredibly obstinate.
Do you know what he's saying now?

Even if they just suspend him
for a little while,

even they censure him, he'll leave
the bar and he won't apologise.

- One thing's perfectly clear, George.
- What?

Rumpole has absolutely
no one to blame but himself.

Come on, Philly, it's time we were off.
I have to pick up a brief.

- I'll catch you up.
- We're off to the Festival Hall tonight...

Are you going to send us up
some nice, fresh vegetables?

- What?
- Peas and carrots. Sounds delicious.

- Yes, I have been having doubts.
- Oh, dear, have you?

Looking back on my life
all those years at the bar,

I can find absolutely no evidence
that I have green fingers.

Neither have I.
My pot plants all go yellow.

It's just every time I visit a jail

and look at the trusties planting
their chrysanths in the sooty soil,

I think, "That's the job I'll have
when I'm in the nick."

Oh, really! You're not going to the nick.

Oh, really! You're not going to the nick.

You told me
never to underestimate your cunning.

Like the time I was prosecuting you,

you got me to bore the magistrate
with a load of law and you won the case.

You finally tumbled to that?

If you can do that, can't you deal
with this case at the Senate?

- I shan't apologise.
- Of course you won't.

- Why, were you thinking of it?
- Was I?

Creeping off to the country to grow
vegetables? It's like pleading guilty.

- Stuff that for a lark!
- Miss Trant!

When you first came to Chambers,

you were a straight-laced young lady
only interested in law reports.

Yes, well, I've learned a lot since then.

- From your Pupil Master Erskine-Brown!
- No. From you.

What is it you say we should have
written up in letters a foot high?

"Never plead guilty!"

Bricks without bricks, Miss Trant.

Bricks without a bloody shadow
of a brick!

- Unless...
- Go on. Unless?

Unless someone can lay their hands
on a gentleman called Harry Harris.

You'll find a defence, I know you will.
I promise I'll be thinking about it.

- All through Mahler's Eighth!
- Oh!

(Sighs heavily)

What will they do to me...

(Rumpole)
'... the Senate of the Inns of Court,

'that august body?

'Change me utterly?

'I might come out of there
as someone quite new.

'As myself.'

But who am I?

(Rumpole) 'Ah, I remember
startling Hilda with that question once.

'Of course, she didn't know either.

'I seem to have spent my whole life
being other people.

'Safe-blowers, fraudsmen,
a few...

'... rather gentle murderers.

'I've really had remarkably little time
to be Rumpole.'

Whoever that may be.

(Rumpole) 'Shall I have time now?

'Time hanging heavy
on my hands... forever.'

- Mr Rumpole?
- Guilty, My Lord.

- Mr Rumpole?
- Eh? Yes?

(Indistinct chatter)

(Dickerson) Harris!
You've been hiding from me, Harry.

I got word...
you wanted to see me, Dickerson.

You've been a naughty boy, talking out
of turn. Wanna buy me a Chinese?

(Coughs)

The A1 Combination
with the sweet and sour lobster.

Yeah, I'd be glad to.

I thought you would. You've been a bit
late with your instalments, Harry.

Sorry, Dickerson.
I've been travelling, you see?

Well, leave a forwarding address, then.

We'll get on much more nicely
if I can bleed you regular.

I think a bottle of Chablis
would go down well.

Er... a bottle of...

- 24.
- 24.

- Can't we... forget about it now?
- Forget what, Harry?

A couple of fingerprints on a gold case.

You're very careless
where you put your fingers.

You're as bad as your friend,
Charlie Wheeler.

Yeah. I heard you fitted
Charlie up nicely, too.

Fitted him up?
Who told you I fitted him up?

The jury convicted him, didn't they?
Unanimous verdict.

He's such a nice, friendly lad is Charlie,
he'd shake hands with anyone.

All right, Harris.
Very funny, very funny indeed.

Yes, that's OK.

But let this be a lesson to you.
Er... chilled.

You don't bleed regular, and I'll have
your fingers round a lump of jelly.

Light?

Like I did with Charlie.

(Laughs)

(Piano music plays on radio)

(Dickerson) 'Chilled.

'You don't bleed regular, and I'll have
your fingers round a lump of jelly.

'Light...

'Like I did with Charlie.'

- Are we still waiting for anyone?
- (Trant) Rumpole?

Rumpole said he'd probably miss
the Chambers' meeting.

- The Senate hearing.
- Of course. Perhaps he'll join us later.

He said to start without him. Mind you,
Rumpole never minds missing...

Well, shall we begin?
First item on the agenda.

(Erskine-Brown) The question
of accommodation in Chambers.

With Hoskins' conferences,
it's like Paddington Station upstairs.

I'm in court everyday,
I don't mind mucking in.

Perhaps Erskine-Brown would like
to fill us in on this one.

It seems likely we'll soon have
a vacancy in Chambers.

- What do you mean exactly?
- Rumpole made it quite clear.

He intends to leave the bar
and grow vegetables.

Vegetables? I hadn't heard
anything about vegetables.

Look, perhaps it would be better
if we waited for Rumpole.

- Yes, I agree...
- We should decide what our policy is.

As you know, our own room
is impossibly overcrowded.

George has to share a room
with Hoskins,

which isn't always convenient
when it comes to conferences.

Do we take in another young man
who'd make himself useful

and do a bit of paperwork and so on?

Or do we solve our accommodation
problems by taking Rumpole's room?

- Ah, Rumpole!
- Good heavens...

You want to take over my room,
Erskine-Brown?

- Sorry I'm late.
- Not at all. Perhaps you can help us.

We were just discussing
the possible future.

Were you, old darling?

So was I!

And you know what?
The possible future's rather interesting.

You remember Detective Inspector
Dirty Dickerson?

Well, he's been suspended
pending a full enquiry.

When Wheeler heard that, he suddenly
recalled giving me those instructions.

So we're applying to the Appeal Court
with fresh evidence.

- I am relieved Rumpole.
- We'd better get our heads together.

Ah, well, I was rather thinking of doing
the appeal alone, without a leader.

So, the vegetables will have
to be indefinitely postponed.

Oh, I'm sorry, Erskine-Brown,
I can't be more accommodating.

What's the next item on the agenda?
Erskine-Brown?

(Bellows) Hilda!
(Hollers) I'm in bed.

- It's over, is it, Rumpole?
- I'm afraid so.

On top of everything,
you've given me the flu.

Oh, I am sorry.
But don't knock it, Hilda.

The flu is a disease
with endless possibilities!

- Over.
- Oh, come on, cheer up.

Here, have a gin and tonic.

It's absolutely marvellous for the flu.

- (Chuckles)
- All over.

Yes, no more peace, no quiet.
No more just being Rumpole.

Above all, no vegetables.
My chance of retirement gone forever.

They've let you off?

As a matter of fact, I got commended

for picking out
one of the very few rotten apples

in that otherwise sweet-smelling
barrel load, the Metropolitan Police.

Rumpole? Ah, ah...

- (Sneezes)
- You weren't worried, were you?

Worried? Well, of course I was worried.

Having you at home all day, every day.
It would've been impossible.

Here, I give you a toast.

Here's to our future.

The future.

Which now shows every sign
of being exactly like our past.

Downloaded From www.AllSubs.org

Repair and Synchronization by
Easy Subtitles Synchronizer 1.0.0.0