All language subtitles for Rumpole s06e0 cuton.eng

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(Low music)

You can identify her, Mr Fabian?

I'm afraid so. My daughter.

Poor Veronica.

I told you, I rang her father's
firm where she worked.

Fabian Winchelsea, estate agents.

I spoke to Veronica Fabian and said
I was interested in 13A Gissing Mews.

- The afternoon before?
- Yes.

You never spoke to her
before that afternoon?

Never. I made an appointment at 8:30.

I had to fly to Spain
about my timeshare apartment.

I have been through this.

Well, go through it once more.
If you don't mind, Mr Jago.

I got to the mews just before 8:30
in the morning.

The front door was open, I pushed it,
I went up the stairs

and saw this girl
lying on the floor, bleeding.

- I made sure she was dead.
- Why?

I'd have rung the ambulance,
wouldn't I?

You tell us, Mr Jago.

Well, then I suppose I just panicked.

I left and drove to the airport.

You didn't know the man next door
got your number?

You parked outside his garage.
Did you know that?

I had no idea. Honestly.

Whatever reason
would I have for killing her?

None at all,
not so far as we can tell.

Are you charging me?

I came back from Spain, didn't I?
Voluntary. I could have stayed away.

No, Mr Jago, we're not charging you.

Just keep us informed
of your movements.

- We may need you as a witness.
- So I'm innocent?

Let's just say there's insufficient
evidence, luckily for you, Mr Jago.

Well, I suppose it's been an article
of faith all my life in the law.

I never prosecute.

Think of it another way.
You'd be defending my daughter.

Oh, isn't it a little late for that?
To defend her, I mean.

There's no time limit on murder,
is there?

"And if you wrong us,
shall we not revenge?"

Oh, we don't want revenge,
Mr Rumpole, all we're after is justice.

And we haven't had much of that, sir.

Not since they decided
not to charge Jago.

We wonder how much that cost him.
He can afford it.

We don't know that, Roger. My son's
very angry, as you can imagine.

Veronica was his sister.

Why did the police let him go?
That's what the family want to find out.

Everybody says you'll never be a judge,
so you're not afraid of the police.

They said to ignore the soup on
the tie and ash down the waistcoat.

And you don't give a toss
for the Establishment.

Oh, really? I gather you wish
to launch a private prosecution.

Exactly.

The family wants to prosecute
Jago for wilful murder.

Private prosecutions?
I'm not sure I approve.

Citizens arguing each other
into the nick. Where will it end?

We want justice, as we told you.
Surely we deserve that?

"Use every man after his desert,
and who shouldst 'scape whipping?"

There is one thing that interests me.

Yes?

Jago told the police that he rang
your daughter for an appointment

at your firm.

Is there no record
of the call or meeting?

- No, not in his name.
- (Rumpole) Well, whose name?

There's a note in her diary to meet
a man called Arthur Morrison at 8.30.

Arthur Morrison.
Was he a client of yours?

(Fabian) Not so far as we know.

The name means nothing to you?

No, nothing at all.

May we send you the brief,
Mr Rumpole?

Well, I'll have to think about it.
My clerk will let you know.

Good afternoon.

(Rumpole) 'Arthur Morrison. Now,
where have I heard that name before? '

Ah, thank you, Jack,
my Christmas present to me.

Rumpole, there you are.
The power of evil is everywhere.

Mineral water, please. Everywhere
includes our Chambers in Equity Court.

I've sought you out, though one doesn't
like to spend time in these places.

- Does one not?
- The danger here is passive alcoholism.

- You've heard of passive smoking?
- I've heard of it.

I prefer the active variety.

One can absorb alcohol simply by
standing near a person who's using it.

Oh, really?
Is that one of Matey's medical theories?

Marguerite is extremely well informed
on all health problems.

Oh, yes?

When we invite colleagues
to Waltham Cross,

we make it clear our home
is an alcohol-free zone.

Oh, really? You'll probably find it's
a Rumpole-free zone as well, old darling.

- Rumpole?
- Yes?

I wanted a word in confidence.

I need to enlist your help as a senior,

in years, anyway,
a very senior member of Equity Court.

A particularly grave crime
has been committed. Forgery.

False pretences and obtaining briefs
by fraud.

You're making my flesh creep.

Do you know an instructing solicitor,
Patricia Benbow?

La belle Benbow,
baubles, bangles and beads, yes.

She sent a civil brief to David Inchcape.

Erskine-Brown turned up to do
the case, and the thing was...

- I'm strangely uninterested.
- Good, good.

"Inchcape" was scratched out
and "Erskine-Brown" substituted

in capital letters.

Are you accusing Claude
of brief-nicking?

Oh, he'll be delighted
to think that you think he's evil.

Probably feel he's got a touch
of the Nibelungs or something.

Remember that case
about the dirty restaurant?

He tried to conceal the fact that he'd
been dining there with Miss Benbow.

Well, yes, that's true. Claude
seems to conduct his love life

with a maximum of embarrassment to all

and a minimum of sexual satisfaction.

- Rumpole, please.
- Well, if you call that evil.

Any man who wishes to deceive his wife

is quite capable of deceiving
his Head of Chambers.

I want you to undertake the prosecution
of Claude Erskine-Brown.

Assemble all the evidence against him
and if he is proved guilty...

- Death!
- Yes... Rumpole!

There is no place in Equity Court for a
fellow who pinches other fellows' briefs.

That's the second time today
I've been asked.

Prosecution isn't my line
of country at all.

Rumpole only defends.

- Is that you, Hilda?
- I hear strangers.

- Oh, it's you, Howard.
- Er, no, not exactly.

I'm Charmian Nichols.
Didn't Hilda tell you?

- Come for Christmas.
- We usually get a Dodo for Christmas.

I mean Hilda's old school friend,
Dodo Mackintosh.

You're in luck's way,
my dear old fellow,

you've got me instead
of dear dowdy little Dodo.

Into the kitchen with you, no shirking.

I always say that the real fun
of Christmas

is everyone mucking in together.

(Rumpole) I've never discovered
the real fun of Christmas.

What an old Scrooge you are!
My Charlie adored Christmas.

- Charlie?
- My husband.

- He's not coming too, is he?
- Dropped off the twig.

- Oh.
- So, I rang Hilda and said,

if you've got Dodo
coming for Christmas,

why not ditch her and let's have a
splendid time all mucking in together?

Didn't she tell you?

Now you mention it,
I have a vague recollection.

I bet you'd forget your head
if it wasn't screwed on.

Now, you get that jacket off and let's
finish laying out for Hilda, shall we?

Just a moment, if you don't mind.

Plenty of time for drinkies later.

Then you shall have one as a reward.
I always told that to Charlie.

- No wonder he dropped off the twig.
- What?

- I said, no wonder it's not very big.
- What's not very big?

- Kitchen's not very big.
- Extraordinary things you say.

(Door slams)

- Hilda!
- Rumpole.

You are home.
And you've met Charmian?

Oh, yes,
we've become great friends already.

- Hope you won't be jealous, Hilda.
- No.

I'm so sorry I was such a long time.
The traffic was appalling.

(Hilda) The Christmas lights!
The buses were at a standstill.

(Rumpole) If the Son of Man had known
what trouble he was causing,

then he would have chosen to be born
on a nice summer's afternoon,

when most of London were off having
a nice holiday on the Costa Del Crime.

I don't think
that's a very nice thing to say.

Dodo and I were at school
with Charmian.

Of course, she was miles above us.

She was house prefect
and captain of hockey.

She doesn't expect me
to give her a game?

Harold, your wife and I seemed to spend
hours washing up our lunch.

She really must persuade you to buy her
a new Croc-a-Gleam for Christmas.

You mean a dishwasher?

Oh, well,
we're always talking about that.

- Oh, always.
- But we never seem to get around to it.

Harold, you're going to buy your wife
something white for Christmas?

You mean handkerchiefs?
It hadn't occurred to me.

My name is Horace, but as you're
staying with the family, call me Rumpole.

- Ugh! Extraordinary drink!
- Pommeroys Very Ordinary?

It raises the spirits,
keeps you astonishingly regular.

Could I have a gin and tonic?

Can I have one too, please,
Rumpole?

To hear is to obey.

Charlie insisted that I could only keep
my looks if I was fully automated.

I just couldn't have run our social life

if it hadn't been for my freezer
and my jumbo microwave rotisserie,

and our dear, faithful
old Croc-a-Gleam.

Surely Harold can afford
to mechanise you, Hilda?

He's always in court, as you say.

Well, Legal Aid defences don't pay
for very much machinery.

(Legal Aid? Isn't that
some sort of National Health?

I don't only do Legal Aid defences.

Nowadays I'm offered
the occasional private prosecution

- and they can be very lucrative.
- (Hilda) Oh, really?

How much?

�2,000, Mr Rumpole.
They sent the cheque with the brief.

I've agreed refreshers
at 500 a day.

500!

And it's a case
likely to last a day or two.

We've got it down, Mr Rumpole,
for two weeks.

- Nothing in court for me tomorrow?
- Nothing at all, Mr Erskine-Brown.

- Take the rest of the week off.
- I'll come in anyway.

That's entirely up to you, sir.

I didn't change the name on that brief.

- We know what we think, don't we?
- Yes, we know what we think.

Your wife,
the Lady Mayor of Bexleyheath...

Ah, no longer,
her year of office being over,

she has reverted to mere Alderman.

Then you are no longer
the Lady Mayoress?

Much to my relief, Mr Rumpole,
I've handed in my chain.

Tell me, Henry,
does the good Alderman ever plunge

her ex-mayoral hands
into the washing-up liquid?

- Hardly, Mr Rumpole.
- We've been fully automated for years.

Oh, yes, well, of course,
on a clerk's fees.

It's only the old barristers
who slave away with a dishcloth.

Ha! No offence, Henry.

Go forth, my clerk, into the highways
and byways of Oxford Street.

Order me up the most gleaming,

melodiously purring Croc-a-Gleam
that money can buy.

Despatch it to Mrs Rumpole
at Froxbury Mansions

with the compliments of the season.

You are going to prosecute
in Jago, then, Mr Rumpole?

Yes, I thought I'd try my hand at it,
just for a change.

Good thing you were in
the Clerk's Room.

Oh, yes, why exactly?

Ballard says
he doesn't want me to go in

unless some other member
of Chambers is in attendance.

What's he think I'm going to do,
forge my fee notes, or ravish Dianne?

- Probably both.
- It's unbelievable.

You must remember, Ballard specialises
in believing the unbelievable.

He seems to have appointed himself
judge, jury and handwriting expert.

I think he wants me
out of Chambers, Rumpole.

Well, he believes you're sunk in sin.

He's probably afraid of catching
passive sinning from you.

Well, what on earth's
Phylli going to say?

She'll be delighted to have you
at home to do the washing-up.

Unless you happen to have
a Croc-a-Gleam like the rest of us.

Please, Rumpole,
this is no joking matter.

Almost everything, Claude, in my
humble opinion, is a joking matter.

You will defend me, won't you?

Well, now, Ballard has asked me
to fill an entirely different role.

But you don't ever prosecute, do you?

You've really joined the enemy now,
haven't you?

Don't pretend you don't know what
I mean. Henry told me all about it.

It's like acting for a landlord

trying to evict a one-parent family
on supplementary benefit.

- You've gone over to the prosecution.
- Not gone over, old love. Just visiting.

Just visiting the Establishment.

Just there on a friendly call?
How comfortable, Rumpole, how cosy.

- You know what I admired about you?
- Ah, tell me, Liz.

The fact you were always
on the side of the underdog.

The one that stopped all the judges
sending everyone to the nick.

You showed up the police, you stood up
for the underprivileged,

and you, of all people,

are being paid by some posh family
of ritzy estate agents

to cook up a case
against one of the competition.

They're narked he's been set free
because there isn't any evidence.

Let me enlighten you, there is
plenty of evidence against him.

Like the fact he never went to
a decent public school like the Fabians.

Like he scooted off to the continent
instead of telephoning the police.

You'll be able to think up
all sorts of clever points against him.

You'll argue him into a life sentence
with a 25-year recommendation.

You'll get the thanks
of the judge and a weekend's shooting

at the Fabians' place.

I don't know why you did it.
Or rather I know only too well.

Oh, do you? Why?

Henry told me.

"Just for a handful of silver he left us."
You're always quoting Wordsworth.

Yes, I am, but that's Browning
about Wordsworth.

About him, is it? "The Lost Leader".

Well, no wonder you like
Wordsworth so much. Let's go.

Well, I say, Rumpole,
young Liz was somewhat narked.

Yes, you can say that again.

She didn't seem to notice me
sitting here at all.

Of course, everyone thinks
I pinched Dave Inchcape's brief.

I don't, Claude. Did you?

- No.
- No, of course not.

- Rumpole.
- Yes.

Are you really prosecuting
for a handful of silver?

That and a brand-new Croc-a-Gleam,

and of course,
so that justice may prevail.

Well, Mr Pyecraft,
the scene of the crime.

Pokey little place, really.
Hardly room to turn around.

Are we sure that this is
where it actually happened?

The pathologist's report
said the body was not moved.

This is where she died,

by a single, savage blow to the head.

Seen all you want?

Yes, I think so.

Then we'll call on the clients.

Mrs Fabian wants to look you over.

(Rumpole) 'Rare for a criminal hack
to be invited into a client's home.

'Few people, I suppose,
want the neighbours to spot

'the sturdy figure of Rumpole
climbing their front steps.

'It creates speculation on whether
it's murder, rape or a nice fraud

'that's going on
in that particular family.'

I could learn to live with it
if I knew just why Veronica died.

- You mean who killed her?
- Yes, of course that's what I mean.

Well, tell me something about her.

- Did she have any boyfriends?
- No, that was really the trouble.

She didn't seem able to find one,
at least no one she cared about.

She worked in your estate agency.
What were her outside interests?

She read enormously.
She had the idea of becoming a writer

and she did some things for her school
magazine which were good, I thought.

She never got much further than that.

I suggested she came to work for us,
then she could write in her spare time.

If she'd looked like making a success
of the writing, I'd have supported her.

What sort of things did she read?

All sorts of things,
mainly 19th-century novels.

She often spoke of wanting
to be a novelist.

Well, her favourites were the Bront�s.

(Mr Fabian) Charlotte especially.
She had a romantic nature.

Yes.

This fellow Morrison,
whoever he may be,

that keeps turning up
in her appointments diary,

are you sure he was never a client?

Not so far as we can discover.
There's no correspondence with him.

Well, do you know a friend of hers
by that name?

We've asked, of course.
No one can help.

According to her diary, she had had
six previous appointments with him.

Of course we don't know everything
about her.

You never do, do you?
Not even about your own daughter.

All right, tell me what you know
about Christopher Jago.

An estate agent, you must have
come across him in business.

Not really,
he has a different type of business.

- Does it in a different sort of way.
- Well, what does that mean?

Well, we've heard things.
You do hear things.

- What sort of things?
- Undervaluing houses.

Getting owners to sell cheap to a chap
who's really a friend of the agent.

When the friends sells on at the right
price, he and the agent split the profits.

We've no proof of that, of course.

It wouldn't be right
for you to assume that.

Apparently, he's rather
a flashy type of person.

- That's all we know about him.
- He's a cowboy and he looks the part.

Veronica was not robbed.
She was not sexually assaulted.

As far as we know, she hadn't quarrelled
with anyone. Jago had not met her.

Now, why on earth should he kill her?

Yes.

The police couldn't
answer that, either.

I don't know if Francis Pyecraft has
explained to you about Veronica.

No, what about her?

As a matter of fact,
she's not our daughter.

Not?

After Roger was born,
we so wanted a girl.

Evelyn wasn't able to have
any more children, so we adopted.

We loved her
just as much as Roger,

but now it seems even more important
that she should be treated justly.

Yes.

There's always one child
who you feel needs special protection.

Such lovely presents.

I'm glad you liked
the lavender water, Hilda.

As a matter of fact,
I still have some from last year.

Oh, never mind,
this'll do for laying down.

And the socks will always
come in handy.

I really meant your presents, Charmian.

The special homeopathic
skin beautifier?

We've got to do something about those
toil-worn hands of yours, Hilda.

(Charmian) Thanks a bundle for that
amusing little tea set you both got me.

How very sweet of you to go out
and buy it,

or was it another present
from dear old Dodo?

Here's to absent Dodo. I feel fond
of Dodo Mackintosh this Christmas.

At least I've got Howard
to get you a dishwasher, Hilda.

- I've managed to do that.
- You didn't make me buy it.

And who did, then?

I suppose the person
who murdered Veronica Fabian.

Eureka! I have found it!
In the "Companion To Literature".

Calloo, callay! Morrison, Arthur.

"Born 1863, a prolific author.
Lived on into the Second World War.

"His most famous novel,
published 1896,

"concerned life
in the East End of London."

And what do you think it was called?

"A Child of the Jago".

Happy New Year, Liz.

Claude, you a refugee from
the Christmas visitors too, are you?

No, Rumpole.
I'm a refugee from the shrink.

- The what?
- The psychiatrist.

Phyllida knows all about the case
of the altered brief. Ballard told her.

- I bet he enjoyed that.
- She was understanding.

She believed you?

She didn't believe me,
she was just very understanding.

She said it was the mid-life crisis,
like women pinching from Sainsburys.

But Phylli thinks
a lot of men go mad as well.

So, she said it was a sort of cry for help

and she'd stand by me,
provided I went to a shrink.

Jack! Thank you. So?

So, it seemed easier to agree somehow.

She fixed me up with a Dr Jauser,
who lives in Belsize Park.

What did the good Dr Jauser
have to say?

First of all, she had this rather
disgusting old horsehair sofa

with a piece of Kleenex
on the pillow.

She made me lie down on that,
so I felt rather a fool.

And then she asked me
about my childhood, so I told her.

Then she said the whole trouble
was I wanted to sleep with my mother.

- And did you?
- What?

- Want to sleep with your mother?
- Certainly not.

Mummy would never have stood for it.

Mummy was an absolute sweetie
in all sorts of ways

but she was... No offence to you
personally, but she was corpulent.

I didn't fancy her in the least degree.

- You told the doctor all that?
- Yes, I did.

I said, "I wouldn't have
slept with Mummy

"if we'd been alone
together on a desert island."

She said, "Ah! So...

"fantasises about being alone with
his mother on a desert island."

I can't go and see
Dr Jauser again, Rumpole.

I suppose not.

All that talk about Mummy behind
her back. It's too embarrassing.

She'd have hated it so,
if she'd been alive.

Oh, yes, yes. I do see that.
Yes, thank you, Jack.

Now, would you excuse me
for a moment, Claude?

Liz, how did you know all that stuff
about Christopher Jago?

You can't sit there.
I'm expecting Dave.

Just until he comes. About him not
going to a public school, all that.

- Dave and I got our flat through him.
- I forgot that you both share a pad...

- Are co-mortgagees!
- And I have to tell you, Rumpole,

Christopher Jago was absolutely honest,
reliable and trustworthy

throughout the transaction.

Compared to the prices
Fabian Winchelsea were asking,

he got us our flat pretty cheaply.

He didn't put up the price or let us
be gazumped by other clients

and he helped us fix up our mortgage.

And he didn't conk me on the head
with a Zulu knobkerrie.

You wouldn't like to come and take
a note from me, act as my junior?

- You must be joking.
- Yes, I must be joking.

Christopher Jago asked me if I knew
any brilliant solicitors

and said he preferred women.

- So, I sent him off to Tricia.
- The fair Tricia! Who is she briefing?

- Me.
- You?

Yes, Rumpole, I'm for the defence,
just as you ought to be.

With respect,
you're not doing this alone?

- Oh, no. I've got a leader.
- Who?

Our Head of Chambers.

"And thus the whirligig of time
rings in his revenges."

Rumpole for the prosecution
and Ballard for the defence.

Tell him to sit close to me.
He might catch some passive advocacy.

Oh, by the way, old darling,
that new organic wine you're drinking,

it's the old non-organic stuff.

They've put a green label
on the bottle.

Claude, come and help me on the mews
murder. Take your mind off your mother.

And may it please you, My Lord,
ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

I appear in this case with my learned
friend Mr Claude Erskine-Brown

for the prosecution.

The defence of Mr Christopher Jago
is in the hands of my learned friends

Mr Samuel Ballard QC
and Miss Elizabeth Probert.

Do I hear aright? Mr Rumpole, did
you say you were here to prosecute?

Er, yes, My Lord.

An unusual role for you,
Mr Rumpole.

Er, a little unusual, My Lord, yes.

Members of the jury,

Mr Rumpole, the most experienced
advocate, is here to prosecute.

Just you sit and listen carefully to
everything that Mr Rumpole has to say.

The defence will get his chance
in due course.

But in the end, what really matters
is your good old British common sense.

Now, Mr Rumpole, please, carry on.
Take all the time you need.

(Rumpole) 'That's one of
the great drawbacks of prosecuting.

'You get judges like OIlie OIliphant
on your side.'

Mr Pyecraft, meet Ferdinand Isaac
Gerald Newton, known as Fig Newton,

private investigator non-parallel.

You have been hiring Fig to find out
all we can about Christopher Jago.

- Have I?
- Didn't I tell you?

- How are you keeping, Fig?
- A slight head cold, Mr Rumpole.

A consequence of keeping observation
in inclement weather.

- I'm sorry.
- Occupational hazard, Mr Pyecraft.

Tell us what you can about Jago, quick,

or we'll have OIlie OIliphant down on us.

He's known in a number of pubs in the
Maida Vale and Notting Hill Gate area

where the property he deals in
are situated.

Favourite resort, the Warrington
Hotel, near the Regent's Canal.

Shake it up, Fig. Girlfriends?

Oh, plenty. Mostly blonde secretaries
and receptionists.

The bar staff at the Warrington
used to lay odds

on how long each one would last.

Odd thing, though,

the one he used to see there
most frequently wasn't pretty at all.

- Tell me, Fig.
- (Fig) She was very unattractive.

- Used to sit in a corner together.
- Passed the photo round?

(Fig) Oh, yes.
The barmaid was pretty sure.

- It was Veronica Fabian?
- Mr Rumpole, you've got it.

Detective Sergeant Burville,

is that the African club or knobkerrie
found beside Veronica Fabian's body?

It is.

Members of the jury, you'll no doubt
remember the scientific evidence.

Traces of blood of a similar type
to Miss Fabian's

were found on that... what-you-me-call-it.

Yes, thank you, Detective.
Wait there a moment, would you?

No doubt Mr Ballard will have
questions for you.

You will have some, won't you?
You are defending, aren't you?

Um... No questions, My Lord.

What do you mean, no questions?

Ask her about the fingerprints
on the handle.

What do you mean?
Jago's aren't there.

No, of couse not, and that
is in favour of the defence.

Bring it out.

- Mr Rumpole.
- Yes, My Lord?

You told us you were here
for the prosecution.

That's right, My Lord.

Well, do try and use
your common sense about this.

We've all got common sense
to a greater or lesser degree,

haven't we, members of the jury?

If Mr Ballard wants to ask a question,
he'll get up on his hind legs and do so.

I rather doubt it.

Detective Sergeant Burville,
let me put this to you.

There are absolutely no fingerprints of...

Christopher Jago on that weapon,
are there?

There are no fingerprints of any sort,
My Lord.

Thank you, Officer. I'm glad
I was able to winkle that out of her.

Pretty useful admission,
don't you think?

- How's it going, love?
- Not terribly well.

Except when Rumpole forgets
he's not defending.

Detective Inspector... SIoggett,

after you discovered the body,
you spent a deal of time and trouble

trying to find Arthur Morrison,
did you not?

We did, My Lord.

Arthur Morrison was, in fact,
at all times your number one suspect.

And still is, My Lord.

And the name "Arthur Morrison"
occurs several times

in Veronica's book of appointments.

It does.

She was to have met Arthur Morrison
on the morning she died.

That is why we wanted to interview
the man Morrison, My Lord.

Yes. Did you know, Inspector,

that Veronica Fabian was an avid reader
of 19th-century novels?

Her father mentioned she was fond
of reading, yes, My Lord.

Do you know that an Arthur Morrison
was a prolific writer of the period?

No, I didn't know that.

Then, no doubt, you do not know
what his best-known novel was called.

- No, I don't know that.
- It is called "A Child of the Jago".

The Jago?

(Rumpole) A fictitious area
of London, My Lord.

Tell me, Inspector,
do you think it's possible

that Veronica used the name Morrison

as a cover for the name Jago?

Perhaps she did not want
her parents to know

she was meeting a business rival
they disapproved of.

I suppose it's possible.

Yes, possible that Morrison and Jago
are one and the same person.

Well, the way you put it, Mr Rumpole,
it has to be a possibility.

Well, whether this man Morrison exists,

if you had known that Christopher Jago
was meeting Veronica Fabian regularly,

would that have made any difference
to your decision not to charge him?

Well, yes, My Lord, I think it might.

Don't let's beat about the bush.

Jago told you he'd never met the girl

and if you thought he was lying,
you'd have charged him.

- Yes, My Lord.
- There, members of the jury.

We've got that sorted out at last, thanks
to a bit of down-to-earth common sense.

Inspector Sloggett,

you decided to question Jago
when you discovered his car

had been parked near 13A Gissing
Mews at the relevant time.

Yes.

You did not know he had been
in the house and discovered the body?

At that time, no.

So he volunteered that information
to you freely of his own accord?

(SIoggett) Right.

Was that one of the reasons
why you did not charge him?

That's one of the reasons we thought
he was being honest with us, My Lord.

Thank you. There you are, Ballard.

Made your best point for you,
don't ruin it.

So far as that goes, Detective Inspector,

do you still think he was being honest
about the way he found the girl?

I don't know, sir.

If he lied about not knowing her, then I
can't be sure about any of his evidence.

You ruined it.

Thank you, Detective Inspector
Sloggett. My Lord, I call the pathologist.

I'd better go and do my case
in court 14.

- You're not prosecuting, are you?
- Good God, no.

I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't do.
You know that.

(Liz) "Radical lawyers forever!"

That case that you're supposed to
have pinched, what was it about?

Oh, please, Rumpole, don't remind me.

No, no, no. Tell me, what was the
subject matter, just the gist of it.

Well, it was a landlord's action
for possession, as I recall.

- Oh?
- Nothing very exciting.

He wanted you to evict
a one-parent family, did he?

No, no.

No, it was a couple of ladies
in the gay rights movement.

He said they were using the place
to run a business. Why do you ask?

The information you've just given me,
old darling, may be of great importance.

- Cheer up, old love.
- Oh, Rumpole.

You met Veronica Fabian
at the Warrington Hotel many times.

Oh, come along, Mr Jago, the court
has heard evidence to that effect!

All right, yes, I did.
Nothing wrong with that, was there?

How did you first meet her?

I met her
with another girl from Fabian's

I'd been out with once or twice,
if you want to know.

Yes, yes, I want to know.

Then I saw her there on her own,
and we got talking.

- Well, what did you get talking about?
- The house business,

prices and that round the area.

(Jago) I didn't chat her up,
if you're suggesting that.

She wasn't a girl I could fancy,

even if I weren't well looked after
in that direction.

Oh, really?
Then why did you see her so often?

Just happened to bump into her,
that's all.

That's not all, is it?
Your meetings were planned!

There are half a dozen appointments
with "Morrison" in her diary.

All right.

She seemed to want to see me
and we made a few dates for a drink.

You've remembered
you've sworn to tell the truth.

- Why did she want to see you?
- Perhaps she fancied me.

It has been known.

I don't know why she wanted us to meet.
You tell me.

No, Mr Jago, you tell us.

She was scared to tell me about it. She
said it would mean trouble if it got out.

If what got out?

She was worried about
what was happening at Fabian's.

Well, what did she say
was happening at Fabian's?

She said they gave people who wanted
to sell their houses low valuations,

then sold to an independent
who was really in business with them

and sold on at the proper price,
sharing the difference.

She reckoned they'd done that
for years, on a big scale.

(Fabian) He's trying to ruin us
cos we know he killed her.

- Why do you think she told you that?
- I reckon she was worried.

I was in the same business as her.
She wanted my advice.

Like I said, perhaps she fancied me,
I don't know.

She said that there was nobody else,
no real friend she could tell about it.

Mr Jago, why were you
at 13A Gissing Mews on that morning?

I was interested in it
for a client.

I arranged to meet her there.

- You found her dead.
- Yes.

Why did you not telephone the police?

Because I was afraid.

Afraid of what?
You might be arrested for her murder?

- Not afraid of that.
- Well, what then?

She'd been done over because
she'd told me about the Fabians.

I thought that might be me
if I get involved.

- You killed her!
- Just a moment.

I understand family feelings.

Anyone with an ounce of
common sense can understand that.

But I must ask the relatives of
the deceased to restrain themselves.

- Yes, Mr Rumpole?
- Might I see Exhibit One, please?

Mr Jago, I am bound to put it to you.

You met Veronica
at the mews house that morning,

you quarrelled violently,
took this knobkerrie from the wall,

you swung it up above
your head...

Mr Rumpole.

- (Judge) Mr Rumpole!
- Yes.

Why are you treating us
to this unusual moment of silence?

My Lord, I... have an application
to Your Lordship.

It is of the greatest importance.

What is?

That the court adjourn as soon as
possible to the scene of the crime.

There is something
that must be demonstrated.

Now, Mr Jago, would you mind
standing there, please?

Would you take this?
I want you to try and hit me there.

Careful, we don't want to lose you.

Quite so.

(Claude) We're prosecuting,
and you've got him off.

Be upstanding.

- Will your foreman stand?
- What did he say?

"I'm giving a small party to my team
at the Warrington Hotel, will you come?"

- Guilty or not guilty?
- Not guilty, My Lord.

(Women cheer)

Why did you do it?

Did you want
an innocent man convicted?

What a stupid question!
Of course you did.

May I? Thank you.

You said there was always one child
that needed protection,

but it wasn't Veronica, was it?
It was your son Roger,

with his odd little way of accusing
other people of things he'd done himself.

- What do you mean?
- Oh, come on.

A racket of undervaluing houses
to sell to your secret nominees.

He accused Jago of doing that, just
as he accused him of killing Veronica.

I'm not trying to prove something
beyond reasonable doubt.

Just thinking.

Go on, then.

Well, we know Veronica found out
what was going on and didn't like it.

She asked Jago for his advice.

He said to keep him well informed,

doubtless so that he could make
something out of it when it suited him.

And then I think Roger found out
what his sister was doing.

She wasn't really his sister, was she?

Perhaps he'd always
been jealous of her.

I think he followed her
to the mews house to ask her

what she thought she was doing.

They quarrelled,
he lost his temper,

he took the knobkerrie off the wall

(Rumpole) and is short enough to
swing it without hitting the ceiling.

He didn't mean to kill her.

Perhaps not, but he had to be protected,
didn't he? For always.

And the one sure way of doing that
was to have someone else found guilty.

And that is what you paid me to do,
Mr Fabian.

You paid me to take part
in a criminal conspiracy

to pervert the course of justice.

You said you couldn't prove it.

Even if I could, it's never
really been my business to prosecute.

It's never been my business
to take part in crime, either.

I've instructed my clerk
to return your money.

- Poor Roger.
- What?

Not poor Veronica?

(Loud pop music)

Ah, thanks for coming, Mr Rumpole.
Do you always work for the other side?

If you do, I'm bloody glad
I didn't have you defending me.

You know this little legal lady.

Wasn't Chris a marvellous witness?

- No comment.
- The bar's over there.

Oh, hi there, Mr Rumpole.
Didn't we have a splendid win?

Yes, one of Sam Ballard's
most famous victories.

I say, Bollard, you're not
contracting passive alcoholism

from the contents of that glass?

Mr Rumpole, it's your clerk
on the phone! He says it's urgent.

Right.

Yeah, I've got a bit of a situation
here, Mr Rumpole.

- Yeah, Mrs Ballard's here, sir.
- Oh, bad luck.

She just happened to come up for her
sprains and fractures refresher course

and wanted to meet up
with her husband,

as he told her he was going
to a Christian Society meeting

and might be late home.

But she wanted to know
where the meeting was being held

so that she could join him,
if possible.

Henry, he is at a private Bacchanalia
in Maida Vale.

You knew we were going.
Didn't you tell Mrs Ballard?

'No, sir.'

Mr Ballard, at the moment,

is receiving
some passive sexual excitement

by standing close
to Miss Tricia Benbow.

- 'I don't suppose you'll say that! '
- No, sir, decidedly not.

- Where is the wife of Ballard now?
- Here, beside me.

'Pass her over to me, would you? '

- Yes?
- 'Oh, hello, Matey... Marguerite!

- 'This is Horace Rumpole.'
- Horace, whatever are you doing there?

Sam can't come to the phone
at the moment.

He's very busy getting ready
to induct a new member.

- A new member?
- 'Yes.'

- Who?
- Me.

You?

Yes. I've decided
to turn over a new leaf.

But where are you meeting?

I can't tell you that over the phone.

- Why ever not?
- Well, for your own safety.

We have received threatening calls
from militant Methodists.

'Are you sure Sam's all right? '

Oh, yes, perfectly, just he can't
come to the phone, that's all.

He said he would see you at home
in Waltham Cross,

but don't wait up for him because
he'll probably be absolutely exhausted.

- Is he filled with the spirit?
- Oh, yes indeed.

(Coughs)

That was your wife!

She's not coming here, is she?

I've given you a cast-iron alibi.
I'll tell you later.

Liz, I'd like to tell you my solution
to the case of the altered brief.

- Would you like to come for a dance?
- I'd like you to hear what I'll say.

I know you always get into Chambers
early, all white wigs do.

You found to your horror
you'd been engaged by a landlord

in an eviction case to kick out a couple
of gay women from house and home.

What would Liz have thought of that?

So you scratched out "Inchcape"
and wrote in "Erskine-Brown".

- Inchcape, is this true?
- Is it, Dave?

Well...

Tell Claude, for God's sake!
Somebody put him out of his misery.

- I'll come.
- Thank you, Liz.

Make sure you do it.

I told Matey...

Ugh... Ah! Good morning, Hilda.

You were home late last night.

Yes, a few things to clear up
in Chambers.

I'll make you a nice cup of coffee.

You're in a very good mood
this morning.

- Aren't I always?
- Oh, yes, yes, of course, but...

Oh, I say, where's the Croc-a-Gleam?

You haven't pawned it? I know things
aren't brilliant, but...

- No, no, no. I sent it back.
- Why, what's it done wrong?

Well, nothing really,
it's just that it takes twice as long

to do the washing-up
as even you do, Rumpole.

That's not it, it's her.

- Her?
- Charmian Nichols.

She wrote to Dodo,
saying that Christmas with us

was about as exciting
as watching her fingernails grow.

When I think of the money
we spent on that tea set for her.

Charming Knickers,
we used to call her at school.

We got her quite wrong. There's
absolutely nothing charming about her.

Hilda, how do you know what she wrote
to Dodo about Christmas with us?

Because Dodo sent me her letter,
of course.

I simply couldn't sit and look at
that thing you bought to please her.

Wonderfully loyal lot,
those old school chums of yours.

- Are things very bad, Rumpole?
- Ah! Nobody'll employ me now.

Changing sides in the middle of a case?

Anyway, from now on,
Rumpole only defends.

You did what you thought was right.

Please don't do what you think
is right again.

It does seem to have
the most disastrous results.

(Mouths) She Who Must Be Obeyed.

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