All language subtitles for Rumpole s06e03 Silence.eng

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(Rumpole) Not many dreaming spires
around Gunster University.

More like a concrete nightmare.

(Hilda) Ssh! Rumpole!

(Man) Honours degrees
in the school of English.

Russell Anwar Bannerjee.

(Applause)

Richard Orenko Jones.

Audrey's next.

(Man) Audrey Wystan.

First-class degree in English.

You never got a first
in anything, Rumpole.

In my experience,
chaps who got a first-class degree

were never the slightest use
down Uxbridge Magistrates' Court.

(Hilda) Rumpole?

Yes, well, that may be so,
Mrs Rumpole,

but they are destroying our universities.

You should see what they're trying to do
to the law profession.

We'll be left with nothing but computer
courses and business studies.

Our masters are not interested
in literature.

Or trial by jury or freelance barristers
or the right to silence.

Ssh! You're not down the Bailey now.

- The right to what?
- Silence.

If you're accused, you can stay quiet.
Make the prosecution prove their case.

That's what they want to abolish.
Bang goes freedom.

- Tea?
- The law has to work

with business efficiency,
just like a bank.

Most people reading English
are going into banks.

What can you expect with
a vice chancellor like Hayden Charles

writing books about money?

Yes, and spends most of his life

licking the boots of our Chancellor
Sir Denis Tolson,

the head of that great cultural
institution Tolson's Tasty Foods.

Oh, Professor Clympton, they do
really rather a good frozen curry

- in the Gloucester Road Tolson's.
- Don't remind me.

Perhaps they do,
but they don't do Latin.

They haven't said anything,
but I may be

the last Professor of Classics
the University of Gunster will have.

Onus probandi, in flagrante delicto.

Classics to go, yet
the right of silence will be next.

I wonder if even Wordsworth is safe.

Wordsworth ended up a Tory.

"But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath passed away

"a glory from the earth."

He can still bring tears to the eye.

What is the point of tears? The purpose
of literature, my dear sir,

is to promote social change.

Your precious Wordsworth ended up
betraying the French Revolution.

Oh, well, if you say so.

Excuse me.

Clive Clympton is a wonderful teacher.

- What did you think of him, Uncle?
- I think...

(Rumpole) I think I claim
the right to silence.

Come along. The Vice Chancellor
wants us to meet him.

Any plans for the immediate future?

Oh! My aunt and uncle,
Mr and Mrs Rumpole.

How do you do? I'm Hayden Charles.
How do you do?

- Have you met Sir Denis Tolson?
- No, we've never met. How do you do?

(Rumpole) How do you do?

(Tolson) You must be proud of Audrey?
(Hilda) We are. Very proud.

- Nice meeting you.
- And you. Thank you for the tea.

Bye-bye.

Tell me, dear, who is that lady?
She was sitting next to us.

That's Mercy Charles,
the Vice Chancellor's wife.

She used to be a model.

A model wife or a model model?

(Man) You're mad, totally mad.

(Crashing and shouting)

(Knock on door)

Rumpole.

- Hello, Ballard.
- Working late?

No, I'm just arranging my famous
collection of priceless foreign stamps.

- Oh, are you?
- Of course I'm not!

I just called in
to put this away in my room.

- This what?
- This bag.

Oh, that.

(Knocking)

Um... I wanted to speak to you.

I mean, Rumpole...
How do you find marriage?

Ha ha! In my experience, you don't.
It finds you.

It comes creeping up unexpectedly
and seizes you by the collar.

How's Matey?

My wife was
a tremendously popular figure

when serving as matron
at the Old Bailey.

Dab hand with the Elastoplast
as far as I can remember, yes.

Much loved, wasn't she,
by all you fellows?

Ah, well, let's say highly respected.

Ah, "highly respected", yes.

- Rumpole?
- Yes?

What's your opinion
of secrets in married life?

Absolutely essential.

I wanted your opinion because of
a slight... difference that has arisen

between Marguerite and myself.

Who the hell's Marguerite?

Marguerite, Rumpole, is my wife.
She's the person you call Matey.

Ah, Matey. Why didn't you say so?

She called in after her refresher course
in sprains and fractures

and Henry told her I'd already left
at five o'clock.

And he thoughtlessly added
he thought I'd gone home

because I was carrying my tartan bag.

He meant this very bag, Rumpole.
This one.

It's most unfortunate Henry should have
mentioned it. I never take it home.

- Don't worry.
- Now Marguerite keeps asking me

where am I going with that bag?

I've told her, even in married life, there
are things a man can keep to himself.

Am I within my rights, Rumpole?

Your right to silence has been yours
since Magna Carta.

I am glad to hear you say that
as a married man.

(Chuckles) Of course,
it doesn't stop the other side

thinking the absolute worst.

Just a moment. That seems to be
exactly what she thinks.

Now, really, she needs something
to take her mind off it.

I mean, it would make a tremendous
difference to Marguerite's happiness

if she saw more of you fellows
in Chambers.

She can see us at any time,
not that we're much to look at.

No, no... No, it would be a terrific help

if you and Hilda were to invite her
to dinner at your place.

Let me understand you. In confidence,
Matey would like to be asked to dinner

- at Gloucester Road?
- She would.

Don't worry.
I shan't say a word to Hilda about it.

- Rumpole...
- Oh, yes, all right, I suppose.

Dinner with She Who Must?

Matey has a curious sense of fun.

What have you got in that bag?

- (Hilda) Is that you, Rumpole?
- Yes. Bad news.

Ballard's invited himself and Matey
to dinner.

I begin to fear
for that man's sanity, Hilda.

He's creeping around
with a sort of tartan holdall,

the contents of which
he refuses to divulge.

Makes him look like
a Scottish pox doctor.

She's got no one else to turn to.
Her mother left home.

Her father didn't even show up
at her graduation.

And she has heard
about some of your wins.

- What are you talking about?
- What are you talking about?

(Both) Well, I...

You'd better come in.

- Let her tell you herself.
- Horace, thank God you've come.

- They've arrested Clive.
- Clive?

- Professor Clympton. You remember.
- Oh, the academic revolutionary.

He wants you, at his trial.

Very wise choice. What's the crime?
Driving while tiddly?

They say it's murder.
He thinks you'll understand.

Well, yes, I do understand
a bit about murder.

No. He says he thinks you'll
understand about keeping silent.

You can rest assured. Mr Rumpole has
a fine record when it comes to murder.

I've won more murders
than you've had degrees.

And some of your, er... your clients,
they kept silent?

Yes, when I thought it was right.

Yes. Well, it's right now.

I will decide that
when I know a bit more about it.

I've decided already.

Professor, you have
one hour of my time.

What shall we do,
discuss Wordsworth?

If you like.

We shan't agree about Wordsworth.

Let us discuss the late Vice
Chancellor Mr Hayden Charles,

a slight man who crashed through some
worm-eaten banisters to his death

on a marble floor below.

Pushed, no doubt,
by a stronger opponent.

- You didn't like him?
- I didn't like his money-mad politics,

nor the way he ran the university, but...

And Mrs Charles?

A very dear friend. As a matter of fact,
she reads a lot of poetry.

She's quite bright, for an ex-model.

Yes, I'm quite bright
for an Old Bailey hack.

I think I see motive
rearing its ugly head.

- I don't understand.
- Oh, do you not, Professor?

Husband finds out
about beautiful wife's infidelity.

Has it out with the lover in his study
on the first floor of his house.

A row develops
and moves out onto the staircase.

It grows violent.

The lover is a stronger man
than the husband.

He takes him by the throat, that's
where they found some bruising,

and pushes him
against some banisters.

Unlike the rest of Gunster University,

they are not made of reinforced
concrete and they collapse.

End of outraged husband, lover runs
downstairs and out into the night,

and that, My Lord,
is the case for the prosecution.

Yes, well, the prosecution
can believe that if they like.

(Rumpole) And if the jury believe it?

How can they? They have no evidence.

Miss Probert, will you read
Mrs O'Leary's statement

to this... fellow?

"I have been housekeeper at the Vice
Chancellor's house for ten years.

"Before that, I worked for Mr and
Mrs Charles in Oxford." Blah-blah...

"I have observed
an intimate friendship develop

"between Mrs Charles
and Professor Clympton."

Blah-blah..."I heard quarrelling
on the stairs shortly before 10pm.

"I heard Mr Charles' voice
and another man's.

"All I heard the other man say

"was something about
licking the Chancellor's boots.

"I am quite sure I recognised
Professor Clympton's voice."

Do you believe
I'm the man she's talking about?

It seems probable, doesn't it?

They're the words I heard you use in
the presence of half a dozen people

at tea and sandwiches
that afternoon.

Mrs O'Leary says she heard
the doorbell ring at 20 to 10.

Mr Charles answered, so she did not
see whoever it was that had arrived.

Was it you?

No.

Then you'll have to tell us where
you were and what you were doing

between 9:30
and just after 10 that evening

when Mrs O'Leary
discovered the Vice Chancellor dead.

Where were you that evening?

Oh, very well. Keep quiet.

You are entitled to.

But there is just one line of Wordsworth
that it might pay you to remember.

"All silent and all damned."

(Knock on door)

- Rumpole, I must have your advice.
- You too? I ought to start charging.

Phylli's back from doing
that corrupt policeman in Hong Kong.

She can buy us a bottle of Pommeroys
bubbly on the Oriental constabulary.

We shall celebrate.

Absolutely nothing to celebrate in view
of what she found when she got back.

I'm afraid I had left, carelessly,
on the kitchen table...

- Yes?
- Two programmes

for "Tristan and Isolde"
at Covent Garden.

Pretty scurrilous reading.
Was our Portia shocked?

She asked who I'd taken to the opera.

Well, of course, I'd been
with Liz Probert, as you remember.

We had a talk about the future
of Chambers in the Crush Bar.

Of course, when your wife heard that,
she decided not to press charges.

Well, now, that's exactly the trouble.
She didn't hear that.

In fact, to be perfectly honest with you,

I didn't tell her that.

I told her I took Uncle Tom.

Uncle Tom?

- Exactly.
- To five hours of unmitigated Wagner?

- I'm afraid so.
- You've eaten of the insane root

what takes the reason prisoner.

Well, now, look,
this is the point, Rumpole.

Phyllida wouldn't like Lizzie and me
drinking in the Crush Bar,

although absolutely nothing happened.

Lizzie bolted off to the Underground
as soon as the curtain fell.

She even left me with her programme,
which is why I had two.

But... on our way from Chambers
earlier, we met Uncle Tom.

He said it was his birthday. So when
Phyllida asked me for an explanation,

Uncle Tom just sprang to mind.

Have your years at the criminal Bar
taught you nothing?

If you must invent a story,
make it credible.

The point is, if Phylli asks,
Uncle Tom has got to back me up.

Someone has got to explain
the whole thing to him.

- Who has?
- Someone he respects.

- Yes.
- Who has some influence over him.

- Yes.
- You, Rumpole.

No. Persuade Uncle Tom to commit
perjury? Certainly not.

- You won't do it?
- Do your own dirty work.

I suppose I'll have to.

You should never have thought up
such a ridiculous defence.

She asked me to explain the two
programmes. What else could I do?

Claim your right to silence.

Everybody else seems to be doing it.

The wonderful thing about marriage
is telling each other everything.

I'm sure when Horace
climbs into bed with you...

You don't care for a baked jam roll,
Mrs Ballard?

Jam roll is on the naughty list,
I'm afraid.

We've all got to watch our tummies,
haven't we?

Marguerite is keen on keeping fit,
and I'm with her 100 per cent.

I've already lost a lot of weight.
My trousers hang loose. Look.

- No thank you, Bernard.
- Sam's a new boy,

but we're old hands at marriage,
aren't we?

When I was married to poor Henry
Plumbstead who passed away,

we told each other every little thing.

We just knew all there was
to know about each other.

I'm sure old Horace
would agree with that.

Ah, now, old Horace isn't so sure.

As regards to nearest and dearest,

a profound ignorance is probably the
best recipe for a happy marriage.

You have quite finished,
haven't you, Rumpole?

Sam leaves his Chambers early
carrying a zipper bag full of something.

- He doesn't come home?
- Later. The bag doesn't come with him.

I hardly think
this has anything to do with me.

Oh, don't you?
When I ask Sam what he's up to,

he says, "Rumpole takes the view that
married people are entitled to privacy.

"Rumpole says we all have the right
to silence." You heard him!

Even in married life.

It seems he takes sides
with husbands who are up to tricks.

Do you approve of that, Hilda?

Approve? Well,
now you come to ask me, no.

I'm glad you said that.

My old uncle used to live in Gunster,
funnily enough.

- Ha ha. How amusing.
- Yes.

He used to be an estate agent there,
but had to give it up.

He said you couldn't get anywhere
unless you were an ostler.

- A what?
- The ancient order of ostlers.

Like freemasons only more so.

My uncle didn't hold with it.
They squeezed him out.

Did he say what they did, the ostlers
or whatever they call themselves?

All sorts of secret ceremonies, I believe.

Mumbo jumbo, Uncle Marcus said.
They also had a peculiar handshake.

- He showed me.
- Like that?

Yes. Yes, I rather think it was.

I might go up north and investigate
the scene of the crime.

- Is that the coffee, Hilda?
- Do you take sugar, Marguerite?

One tiny spoonful.

I shall be going up to Gunster
tomorrow, Hilda.

- (Hilda) Milk?
- (Marguerite) Thank you.

Gunster, Hilda, in the north of England.
I shall probably take my junior with me.

Do you take sugar, Mr Ballard?

Yes, please, Hilda.

- No, thank you, Hilda.
- Miss Liz Probert. You won't mind?

My solicitor will chaperone her.

Are they still keeping you busy,
Mr Ballard, in Daddy's old Chambers?

I won't be here tomorrow night.
You won't be Ionely, will you?

The rest is silence.

(Rumpole) You spend your life
licking the Chancellor's boots!

- Did you hear that?
- Clearly.

Could you tell it was me?

It was you, all right.
Just the sort of thing you say.

That's interesting.
Go back, I'll do it again.

This time I'll run down
and across the hall.

Did you say run?

Ha ha. Move fairly rapidly. I'll slam
the front door. See if you hear that.

All right. Come on, Mr Beazley.

You're still here?

You were kind enough to say we might
inspect the scene of the crime.

- Rather a long inspection.
- Crimes take a short time to commit

and so terribly long to investigate.

Do you think Professor Clympton
killed your husband?

Do you think you'll get him off?

The professor refuses to tell us where
he was on the night in question.

At the moment, he's not
being very helpful to me.

What do you want me to do?

Well, he could be keeping quiet
to protect a woman.

Rather an old-fashioned idea,
but it's possible, isn't it?

That Clive was with me
and doesn't want to tell anyone?

Is that what you want me to say?

Then I'll say it if that's what you want.

Is it true?

What does it matter? You're a lawyer.
It's your job to get Clive off.

I said I'll help you.
Isn't that a fair offer?

You spend your life
licking the Chancellor's boots.

Crash!

Good afternoon. We are engaged in a
history of the fair city of Gunster.

Do you have anything
on the ancient order of ostlers?

Ssh. Order of what?

Ostlers. People who look after horses,

although I doubt there'd be blacksmiths
left among them now.

No, more like chairman of committees,
planners, developers.

Chief constables. Even, dare it be said,
heads of universities.

But important people
in the long history of Gunster.

I'm quite sure
we haven't got anything like that.

What? No library assignment
on this important subject?

Nothing about it at all.

I haven't even heard of these grooms
or whatever it is you're talking about.

Mr Rumpole,
you're asking about ostlers.

Ah, the classics prof. Ave Magister,
or words to that effect.

This is Miss Liz Probert,
my junior on the Clympton case.

Martin Wayfield.
We met at the degree ceremony.

- It's a load of nonsense.
- The degree ceremony?

No, the ancient order of horse-combers.

I was once coming out
of the gents in the...

- (Librarian) Silence, please.
- What did you say?

I mean, no talking.

You know the rules of the library.

Come over by the window.
The students won't hear us there.

(Mouths)

Well, carry on. You were just
coming out of the gents loo.

One of these fellows with a bloody
great horseshoe hung round his neck

was just about to slink into the dining
room to swear some oath of secrecy.

Or to offer to have his throat cut.
They do that, apparently.

Well, this chap used to be
the University Registrar.

I called out, "Simkins, your old lady
cast a shoe, has she?"

He bolted like a rabbit.

The late Vice Chancellor Hayden
Charles. Was he in the brotherhood?

Hayden always laughed about them.

No, I'm sure he wasn't.

I wanted to ask about Clive Clympton.
Is he popular in the university?

The lefty students love him.
There's plenty of those.

Nelson Mandela and Clive Clympton
are top of the pops.

You've probably heard stories
about his private life.

Yes. Are they true?

Why not? Mercy Charles
is a very attractive woman.

Everyone says that. Do you think she
finds him a very attractive man?

Sed mulier cupido quod dicit amanti

in vento et rapida scribere
oportet aqua.

Not everyone says that.
What does it mean?

That what a woman says
to her lusting lover,

it is best to write in wind
and swift-flowing water.

It's all there in the Latin.

And it's going to be forgotten
when they abolish the classics.

I ought to get back to my Catullus.

Yes. Give him my regards.

Well, thank you, Professor.
You've been most helpful.

- You've hurt your hand.
- What? No, nothing wrong with it at all.

Ah, Rumpole. Are you back
from the scene of your crime?

Yes. I imagine you're just
on your way to yours.

- Please, Rumpole.
- All right, not a word to Matey.

(Rumpole) 'Mr Justice OIlie Oliphant.

'Comes from up north,
somewhere near Gunster.

'Specialises in down-to-earth
common sense.

'AIways prepared to call
a spade a bloody shovel,

'Iong before anyone's sure
whether or not it's a toothpick.'

When you were in the dining room
on the night of this murder...

My Lord, I must object.
No one has proved it was murder.

It might have been anything
from manslaughter to an accident.

Come, come, Mr Rumpole. The jury
and I will use our common sense.

Mr Mordaunt Bissett is simply
using the word on the indictment.

To use the word before it is proved
is not common sense,

it is uncommon nonsense.

If the defence is going nitpicking,
we'll call it an incident.

- Will that satisfy you?
- It is not I that has to be satisfied.

It is the interest of justice.

Oh, come along, Mr Mordaunt Bissett.
Let's get back to work, shall we?

(Judge) Now Mr Rumpole's
had his say...

Mrs O'Leary, you've told us you could
distinguish words the man shouted.

You heard him say something about
"licking the Chancellor's boots".

I heard that. Yes.

- Could you recognise his voice?
- I'm sure I could.

- Whose was it?
- It was his voice.

- You mean it was Professor Clympton?
- I'm sure it was.

"I'm sure it was." Any questions
for this witness, Mr Rumpole?

(Rumpole) That is what I'm here for,
My Lord. Yes.

Did you hear other words you could
distinguish from Mr Charles' assailant?

I heard him say "Oh" loudly.

(Rumpole) "Oh." Yes, and then what?

Well, it sounded like "temporary".

And then I think another "Oh",
and then I think I heard "More is..."

Does this make any sense to you,
Mr Rumpole?

(Rumpole) Not at the moment, My Lord.

So this evidence is brought out
merely to puzzle the jury?

Or perhaps to test
their powers of deduction.

You heard the man shout about
"licking the Chancellor's boots".

- She's told us that.
- Yes, My Lord,

but I would like to suggest
when Mrs O'Leary heard it.

You heard it at afternoon tea,

when you were helping passing
out sandwiches to the graduates,

Clympton saying the Vice Chancellor
licked the Chancellor's boots.

- It was said quite clearly.
- How do you know it was quite clear?

- You weren't there, were you?
- As a matter of fact, yes, I was.

But I am not here to give evidence.
This lady is. You heard it at teatime.

Yes, I did. I thought
it was a disgusting thing to say

about Mr Charles.

So when you heard the same words
again at 10pm coming from the hallway,

you naturally thought that it was
Professor Clympton shouting.

(Mrs O'Leary) I thought so.

Because it was something
you'd heard him say.

I had, yes.

And, er... if you heard
those same words again,

at night, from a man you never saw,

you would naturally assume
it was Professor Clympton.

I suppose so.

Even though you couldn't really
recognise him.

I think I recognised him.

You think you recognised him.
Thank you very much.

Mrs O'Leary, let's use our common
sense about this, shall we?

You told Mr Mordaunt Bissett you were
sure it was Clympton's voice.

- Yes.
- And you told Mr Rumpole

that you think it was.

- That's right.
- So you think you're sure?

Yes, I suppose so.

Common sense, members of the Jury.
It always does it, you know.

(Bissett) No further questions,
My Lord.

I call Christopher Perkins.

(Rumpole) Mordaunt, old darling?

A word in your pink and shell-like.

Why did the prosecution
start this case in London?

Well, we've got you
a north country judge.

Oh, yes. Thank you very much.

No, what I mean is the defence
sometimes asks for a case to be moved

because of prejudice against the
accused. This time, the prosecution has.

Did you think a Gunster jury might
be prejudiced in favour of Clympton?

Now why should that be, in Gunster?

No comment.

- Are you Christopher Perkins?
- Yes.

Did you graduate with first-class
honours in Business Studies in July?

- I did.
- Speak up!

- Sorry. Yes!
- On the night of the incident,

when the Vice Chancellor died,

were you crossing the quadrangle
past Tolson Buildings?

- Yes.
- What did you see?

I looked at my watch as I was due
to meet a friend at the JCR.

It was just 9:15. Then I saw Professor
Clympton come out of his rooms

and he seemed in rather a hurry,
and was carrying a bag!

- There's no need to shout.
- Thank you, Mr Perkins.

We haven't heard about the bag.
What was it like?

Just an ordinary holdall. I thought
he was on his way to play squash.

- On his way to play squash?
- I didn't know what was in it.

Three... six... two.

(Knock on door)

Ah, Rumpole. Note for Henry.
Excuse me. Late.

Hello? Gunster University?

I want to speak, please,
to Audrey Wystan, Wystan with a W.

She's a postgraduate.

Hmm? Oh, the English department.

Yes, I'll wait. Thank you.

Are you going down the pan
in R versus Clympton?

Sinking with all hands
unless I can pull off a miracle.

- Oh, hello. Audrey?
- Excuse me. Henry? Note.

Audrey? It's your Uncle Horace.

Yes. How are you?

Fine. Look, do you want to help
the professor?

Good. I want you to get into his room.

Of course you can. Say his lawyer
needs something for the trial.

(Disco music)

One, two...

(Rumpole) My Lord, I have given
notice to my learned friend

of my intention to call an alibi witness.

- You don't object, Mordaunt Bissett?
- No, My Lord, I have no objection.

- Very well, then.
- (Usher) Denis Tolson.

What? What's happening?

(Clympton) I forbid this!
I absolutely forbid it!

Miss Probert,
go and hold his hand, will you?

- I won't have it, I won't!
- Quiet!

I swear by almighty God
that the evidence I shall give

shall be the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth.

- Are you Sir Denis Tolson?
- I am.

- Stop him! What is he doing?
- Mr Rumpole, control your client.

- Mr Rumpole does know best.
- No!

Your client's creating a disturbance.

Is he? I'm so sorry. These literary
fellows have a very excitable nature.

He's not getting excitable in my court.
Understand that?

Any more of this,
you'll be taken down to the cells.

Now... did you say Sir Denis Tolson?

- Yes, My Lord.
- Well, well.

Some of us shop at Tolson's Tasty
Foods, don't we, members of the Jury?

And it may interest you to know
I come from your part of England.

- Is that so?
- Oh, yes.

I used to practise often
at the old Gunsten assizes.

I never dreamt
I'd find myself here at the Old Bailey.

Yes, it came as a bit of a shock
to us, too, old love.

(Clears throat) Sir Denis,
do you attend here by summons?

It was served on me last night.
It was most inconvenient.

I'm very sorry,
but it would be most inconvenient

if my client had to go to jail
for a crime he did not commit.

- Are you an ostler?
- Is he a what, Mr Rumpole?

A member of the ancient order
of ostlers,

an organisation with considerable
influence in the city of Gunster.

By the great blacksmith
and forger of the universe.

And that means you are.

It does not permit us
to reveal our secrets.

Don't bother about the blacksmith.
His Lordship is in control here

and he would direct you
to answer my questions.

Provided they're relevant.
Have you anything to say?

I think the defence should be allowed
to put its case.

We have to consider
the Court of Appeal.

Court of Appeal?
Yes, of course we have to.

(Sniffs)
Well, get on with it, Mr Rumpole.

Jury don't want to be kept here
all night.

Are most of the important people
in Gunster ostlers?

Our ostlers are men of talent
and ambition, yes.

And is membership a path to promotion
in local government

or perhaps university?

An ostler will do his best
to help another ostler, yes,

- all things being equal.
- And all things being equal,

a professor of English
might do well to join you

if he had his eye
on a vice chancellorship, say,

in the fullness of time.

Professor Clympton
is one of our members,

if that's what you're getting at.

That's exactly what I'm getting at.
Thank you very much.

Did the ostlers have a meeting
on the night Hayden Charles died?

- As a matter of fact, we did.
- What time did the meeting begin?

- Our normal time, 9:30.
- Where was it?

The Gunster Arms Hotel.

And what time
did Professor Clympton arrive?

About ten minutes
before the meeting began.

That's 9:20, when Hayden Charles
was alive. What time did he leave?

We broke up around midnight, had a
few drinks when the meeting was over.

By 11, the police had arrived
and found Hayden Charles dead.

So Professor Clympton was with you all
that time from 9:20 until midnight?

- (Tolson) Yes. He initiated a few...
- Yes, thank you, Sir Denis.

You may keep
the rest of your secrets intact.

(Judge) Yes, Mr Mordaunt Bissett?

Sir Denis, can you be sure Clympton
was with you the whole time

- from 9:20 until midnight?
- (Tolson) Of course.

What on earth was a decent left-wing
professor doing

with a load of old businessmen
in aprons?

Well, well, well, Miss Probert.
I see he is no longer fit to be mentioned

in the same breath as Nelson Mandela.

Perhaps that's why he'll never forgive
me for getting him off.

He's lost the young.

Oh. Phylli, darling. There you are.

Yes. Here I am.

- (Phyllida) I saw Uncle Tom.
- Oh, did you, darling? How was he?

- I asked if he'd been to the opera.
- Oh, did you? Why did you do that?

I wanted to find out.

But I told you I went to the opera
with Uncle Tom, darling.

Surely my word was good enough?

No, your word was not enough.
I had to find out.

- I thought you'd given that up.
- Given up finding out?

No. Given up smoking.

- Well, I had until this happened.
- Until what happened?

- Until I talked to Uncle Tom.
- He didn't say we went to the opera?

Oh, yes, he did. He said you'd been
very kind and taken him to a show.

Well, then.
That's all right, then, isn't it?

- Is it?
- Isn't it?

Of course it is.
You can always trust me, Phylli.

Good old Uncle Tom.

He told you we saw
"Tristan and Isolde" together, hmm?

- In a way.
- What do you mean, "in a way"?

He said it was about Tristan and
some chap he couldn't remember.

I said, "I'd hardly call Isolde a chap."

- Perhaps his memory's gone a bit.
- He said he had a splendid evening.

I'm delighted he enjoyed it.

Oh, yes, he did. He said what
a wonderfully happy show it was.

Would you call "Tristan and Isolde"
happy? Does happy spring to mind?

Happy bits, of course.
Perhaps not entirely happy.

Perhaps bloody miserable.

He said he whistled the tunes
all the way home. He sang one to me.

If you were the only boy
in the world

And I were the only girl

Nothing else would matter
in the world today

We would go on loving in this...

But we wouldn't, Claude.
I'll tell you that for nothing.

We certainly would not.

Phylli, please. Come back.

Please.

Marguerite was insistent I keep down
what she calls my naughty tummy.

- She talked of practically nothing else.
- Don't I know.

In the end, I could stand it no more.
I saw an advertisement for this studio.

It seemed very jolly.
Music and... you know.

- Young ladies.
- Yes.

That's why I kept it from Marguerite.
She might not appreciate that aspect.

I don't know. I think
she might admire your heroism.

Tell her you got into
that purple jumpsuit just for her.

You've, er... Iost, have you?

Couple of inches.
My trousers hang loose.

Superb. Tell her of it.
Boast of it to her, my lad.

- That's really your advice to me?
- Of course, yes.

The time for secrets is passed, old
darling. Let it come into the open.

Hmm...

And the professor's entitled to keep
silent, members of the Jury.

But you have had
Sir Denis Tolson's evidence.

Some of you brought your sandwiches
in Tolson's bags, didn't you?

And Sir Denis is quite sure that
the professor was at the meeting

when the deceased man
fell from the staircase.

Now, has he any reason
for inventing that?

Use your common sense,
members of the Jury.

Now, take all the time you need
to consider your verdict.

You're taking a great deal of interest
in this case.

Why not?
Clive Clympton's a valued colleague.

Yes. And, er... Hayden Charles was not
such a valued colleague, was he?

What do you mean?

I've been thinking about those
odd words Mrs O'Leary heard.

"Oh, temporary",
she said, if you remember.

"Oh, more is..."

As I've said, I have very little Latin.

But didn't Cicero express his disgust
with the age he lived in:

"O Tempora! O Mores!"?

"Oh, our horrible times
and our dreadful customs."

- Or words to that effect.
- Yes, Cicero said that, yes.

And did a Latin professor
shout them on the stairs,

furious with the man who was going to
kill off Classics at Gunster University?

I don't understand what you're saying.

Do you not, Professor?
"Licking the Chancellor's boots",

turning Gunster into a training ground
for accountants and bankers.

You heard Clympton say that.

You thought it was a pretty good
description of Charles' activities.

So good, it was worth shouting at him
again on the stairs.

You argued Clive's case very well.

The Vice Chancellor was taken
by the throat with a strong grasp.

I've felt your handshake, Professor.

And was pushed
against the banisters

by a man who thought the whole
of his life, everything he believed in,

was threatened.

- Isn't that possible?
- And who is suggesting this?

I am.

Only me.

If anyone else does, I'll be glad to
be the first to make them prove it.

Because there's really no evidence,
is there?

- Look, if you're...
- Just a rough translation.

If you're ever in Gunster again,
do give me a ring.

We may have dinner together.
I'll give you my number.

Thank you all the same, but I think
I'll give Gunster a wide berth.

Well, here's my number anyway.

The jury's back, Mr Rumpole.
I think they've got a verdict.

Oh, thank you.

Yes.

All hail! Henry, Erskine-Brown,
it was a famous victory.

I thought you were sinking
with all hands.

We were but we made port safely
thanks to my impeccable navigation.

He gets pretty intolerable when he wins.

Oh, dear God. You look as dejected
as my ungrateful client.

You know what happened, Rumpole?
Phyllida spoke to Uncle Tom.

I hope he cooperated.

Enthusiastically.
He said he enjoyed "Tristan",

especially "If You Were
The Only Girl In The World".

That defence was always impossible.
I told you that.

- However, it may be all right.
- You'll teach Tom the love duet?

No, not that. I told Phylli
it was all down to you, Rumpole.

- All down to me?
- That you wanted me to meet Lizzie

to discuss the future of Chambers,

and suggested I tell Phyllida
I'd gone with Uncle Tom

in case she was annoyed
at me taking Liz.

And, well, it may just have worked.

She said it was typical of your methods,
but she's thinking it over.

It's your wife, Mr Erskine-Brown.

Thank you.
Thank you very much indeed.

Phylli.

Well... Yes.

Darling! Of course I love you!

You know what gave me the idea
in the first place?

Prosecution bringing it to London.
They were afraid that a Gunster jury

would let their fellow ostler off.

See what I mean?

Secrets. It's extraordinary, the
secrets people think so important.

Take my professor, for example.

He would rather go to jail

than lose the respect of his students

by admitting
he was a secret member of the ostlers.

You do follow me, don't you?

Oh, yes.
Of course, he wanted it all ways.

He wanted to be a hero to the young,

and at the same time he wanted
the secret help of the ancient order.

See what I mean?

Ah, the other professor.

The Latin scholar.
He didn't have much to say.

But I could see he found it difficult
to keep quiet, exceedingly difficult.

He gave me his card.

Here. And, er... put his number on it.

And he wrote with some sort
of quotation, Latin of course.

"Atque inter silvas Academi
quaerere verum. "

I've got my old
school dictionary somewhere.

(Phone rings)

I bet it still stinks of ink
and gobstoppers. There we are.

Hello?

Yes, speaking. Oh, Marguerite.

Oh, not struck dumb after all.

Rumpole told Sam to tell you?
He said that?

Oh... Oh... Gymnastics!

Silver and wood.

Yes, that must be a relief, dear.

Yes. Well, Rumpole
can be quite sensible at times.

Quaerere:to seek.

I'm glad to hear your Sam
has come to his senses too.

Well, goodbye.

Well, Rumpole. I hear you gave your
Head of Chambers some sound advice.

She speaks. Miracle of miracles.

You told him you didn't believe
in secrets between married people.

Secrets between married couples?
No, perish the thought.

Now, "verum",
that's pretty obvious.

Sam's trousers hang loose.

Your trousers don't hang loose,
do they, Rumpole?

Take up gymnastics.
Lose four inches round the waist.

- Like Sam Ballard.
- Prance around in a purple jumpsuit

to the sound of disco music?

Ha! Heaven forfend!

Now what does... Oh, Lord, of course.

This is quite well known. It's Horace.

Horace. There's a coincidence.

"And seek for truth
in the groves of Academe..."

Yes...

There, you see, Hilda.
Even the Latin professor...

could not keep silent.

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