All language subtitles for Rumpole s07e03 Triangle.eng

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(Classical music)

For God's sake, turn that off.
It's keeping me awake.

It's a concert, Rumpole. You're meant
to be listening to the music.

I was listening with my eyes shut.

(Snores)

(Applause)

Bravo!

"Nymph, in thy orisons,
be all my sins remembered."

More music in there than in any quartet.

- It was a trio.
- He wasn't awake long enough to notice.

Don't be ridiculous, Hilda.
Of course I noticed.

Rumpole needs civilising, Claude.
It quite took me out of myself.

Me too, Hilda.
Schubert always does that.

Yes, wonderful.

Could you climb back into yourself
for another large gin and tonic?

Same again, please.

Hello.

- Oh... hello.
- It is Mr Rumpole, isn't it?

- I suppose it must be.
- You won't remember me.

Someone I once knew at college,
Billy Halliday, you got him off.

- Well, he was innocent, actually.
- Oh, naturally.

I thought you were
absolutely brilliant in court.

You were so brave and...
well, commanding.

- I only watched you from the gallery...
- Large G&T, a B&S and an LP.

- LP?
- Large Plonk.

Oh, yes, of course. Keep the change.

Well, I... I'll have to go.
I'm with some people.

I'd love to meet you again.
If ever you had any time for me.

The criminals of England
are keeping me rather busy.

You must stop for lunch sometimes.
I'd love to talk to you again.

Hear what you felt about the concert
and... other things.

Perhaps.

9362709.

- We're there most mornings.
- Elizabeth! Are you coming, Elizabeth?

I've got to go.

- Ah, there we are.
- Thank you, Rumpole.

Thank YOU, Claude.
It was a wonderful evening.

Yes, indeed. Wonderful.

What are you doing, Rumpole?

What? Just writing down the name
of that tune. What was it, Claude?

Schubert, Rumpole.
Piano Trio in B Flat Major. Opus 99.

- It's already there in the programme.
- Oh, is it? Well, fancy that.

- I've got it now. Well, cheers.
- Cheers.

- Good morning, Dot.
- Hello, sir.

Enjoying the work, are you? No worries?

We senior men are anxious to see
that chambers is a happy ship.

Working with Henry
can be a bit of a headache, I imagine.

- Clerks have a dominating personality.
- I can cope with Henry, sir.

- We're from the same neck of the woods.
- Which neck?

Bexleyheath. We have
a tough breed of woman there, sir.

We can look after ourselves.

Good afternoon, Dot(!)

- It means three weeks in Hull.
- Three weeks?

Morning, Liz. Morning, Inchcape.

- Hello there, Rumpole.
- Sorry, Erskine-Brown.

Terrible pressure of work.

- (Telephone rings)
- The quality of romance.

Tom, where's your soul? You can't play
the notes like a railway timetable!

If you actually gave us the notes,
it would make it easier!

It's got some bloody difficult chords!

I've been thinking about you, actually.

We usually break about one.

Half past one. Perfect.

Just a little off the moustache.
Knocks years off you, sir.

- Do you really think so?
- Oh, sure of it.

And with the hair in the fuller fashion...
Any fragrancy on that, sir?

Fragrancy? Oh, no...
What are you offering?

Machismo, Mr Rumpole.

Just a light, manly sort of perfume.
Very you, sir.

- Really?
- May I waft some on, sir?

Waft away, if you're sure.

Our younger customers say this does
wonders for their quality of life.

- Really?
- There we are.

A truly distinguished head of hair, sir.

Seems a shame
to put that old hat of yours on it, sir.

- Bye, darling.
- Don't be late.

See you, Tom.

Now, I don't know what you'd like -
steak and kidney, rare beef, grouse?

- You don't eat meat?
- It has been known.

- How long has this been going on?
- I've got through a couple of herds.

- Mr Rumpole!
- Horace.

- Horace?
- Yes, I'm afraid so.

You don't believe in killing animals?

They spend their time killing each other.

You should have more respect for them.

Oh, yes, of course. Every time
I pass a sheep, I take my hat off.

- You're making a joke.
- Bad habit.

Look at all these meat eaters.
Pink faces. Accountants, probably.

You don't want to look like them.

- Ready to order, sir?
- How about some fresh vegetables?

- Well, if you really...
- Perhaps some cheese afterwards?

Oh, don't let's go mad.

- Just vegetables for you, Mr Rumpole?
- Of course! Do I look like an accountant?

You look very good.

- And so do you.
- In fact, you look beautiful. All silvery.

- You mean knocking on a bit.
- Oh, age doesn't matter in the least.

- Really?
- Not in the least when it comes to love.

I can love almost anybody, Horace.
Can't you?

- You strike me as being full of love.
- Oh well, I suppose I can love people.

With a few exceptions.
Mr Justice Oliphant.

And Sam Ballard,
our head of chambers.

Isn't he lovable?

I wouldn't say that being lovable is one
of Soapy Sam's obvious qualities, no.

Love him.

- Why did you want to have lunch?
- Does there have to be a reason?

- There usually is.
- You say that because you're a lawyer.

I just admired you so much.

And then when I saw you
looking at me during the Schubert, I...

I thought I'd like to know you better.

- Care to order your wine, sir?
- Wine?

- We don't need any artificial stimulation.
- Well, just a small glass of...

Meeting you is enough to intoxicate me.
Isn't it the same for you?

Yes, of course. More than enough.

- What's the water like here?
- Quite honestly, I've never tried it.

Seems to me there's a lot of things
you haven't tried.

I wanted to get to know you better
because I need someone to talk to.

- Someone wise.
- Care to taste your water, Mr Rumpole?

No, thank you.

I've been so Ionely lately.

I can't believe that!
You're part of the trio.

Well, we still play marvellously together,

but Tom can't seem to realise
I am married to Desmond.

- Desmond?
- Desmond Casterini, the leader.

Tom's got this awful, ridiculous jealousy.

- Tom?
- The cello.

And Desmond's suspicious of Tom,
for absolutely no reason.

The atmosphere is... intolerable.
Sometimes I can hardly breathe.

From immortal trio
to eternal triangle.

Oh, yes!

It's just the two men. Their jealousy
has become an obsession for them.

A kind of unholy bond between them.
Can you understand that?

Oh, I can understand men quarrelling
over you, yes.

A remote object
they're busy fighting over.

And Desmond...

- He's got this wild blood in him.
- What do you mean?

His father's half-Italian, half-Irish

and very passionate, apparently,
when he was young.

It's his father's gun.

- His what?
- An old army revolver.

Desmond keeps it
as a sort of memento.

You mean it works?
With ammunition and?

Oh, Lord! Hand it in to the police.

It must be unnerving for a vegetarian.

Yes. Sometimes I can't bear it and just
want to get miles away from them both.

I'm sure.

It wouldn't be so bad if you and I
could meet, occasionally.

So I could have someone to talk to.

Oh, I... I don't... I don't see
why that shouldn't be arranged.

Sometimes I feel as if...
something horrible's going to happen.

Don't ask me what, exactly.

Ra-pa-pa-pom...

(Henry) 'Call it love, call it lust -
I don't give a damn what you call it.

'It's the shine on your hair, your eyes,

'the suggestion of soft breasts
behind that modest white shirt,

'the whish your stockings make
when you cross your legs...

(Dot) 'You mustn't say those things!

'Because you want to hear them
too much? Is it fear, my darling?

'No need to be afraid. We should be
far from the grey people we work for.

'Just you and I. Two will become one
when our bodies mingle... '

What's been going on in here?

Work, Mr Erskine-Brown. Sending out
bills and invoices for your fees

so that you don't go
without your little comforts.

It may seem dull, unexciting work to you,
compared to your scintillating practice,

but we do it to the best of our poor
abilities, and best without interruption.

- So can I help you?
- Not at the moment, Henry.

I shall consider any further
course of action most carefully.

I'll speak to you later.

Ballard! Ballard!

Yes, Erskine-Brown? I am on my way
into church for my quiet moment.

Yes, well, say a prayer for chambers.
We're in deep trouble.

I have every reason to suspect
a serious case of harassing in our midst.

What on earth is har-ASSING?

Well, HAR-assing, then. People call it
HAR-assing because Americans do.

I don't understand that.

You're not American. Anyway,
I'm always being harassed by solicitors

and by Henry
and even by Marguerite, God bless her,

who wants me to do
some do-it-yourself!

Yes, but this is sexual harassing,
Ballard.

Someone tried to force their advances
on an innocent young woman.

- Did you say sexual?
- I'm afraid so.

That makes a difference.
Who is the guilty party?

Someone of importance to us all,
someone we've known for a long time.

- It can't possibly be Rumpole!
- No, of course, it can't!

I just thought I'd warn you. I'll get
a full statement from the complainant.

- The who?
- The girl in question.

We must get her co-operation
before we can move an inch further.

- It's a most delicate situation.
- Yes, of course. Certainly.

Harassment, indeed.
We can't have that at 3 Equity Court.

- I can't go on like this forever.
- Don't you think it's time I told him?

- Why?
- Before everyone else knows.

- No chops, thank you, Hilda.
- What did you say, Rumpole?

No chops, thanks. I'm thinking
of giving up meat altogether.

What?!

People who eat meat start to look
like... chartered accountants.

You've eaten enough
to be much better at sums.

- Are you feeling quite well?
- Oh, wonderfully well, thank you.

Could I just have a selection
of vegetables?

Boiled potatoes and cabbages
is all we've got.

- Rumpole, you're drinking water!
- Why, yes. Something wrong, Hilda?

Nothing wrong with water.
It's just it's so unlike you.

I think people ought to be sufficiently
stimulated by each other's company.

- Don't you?
- Yes, of course.

Very nice of you to say that, Rumpole.
Do you notice a rather peculiar smell?

- Not particularly.
- Probably that new washing-up liquid.

Oh, no, no. It's not the washing-up liquid,
Hilda. It's Machismo for Men.

I popped into Marco's for a haircut.

- A haircut?
- Hmm.

- There seems less of your moustache.
- Yes.

- Rumpole... you did all this for me?
- I bought a new hat, too.

The old one was a bit frayed.
I beg your pardon?

Just as you learnt to dance, especially
for me, and went to the concert,

and gave yourself a new
and powerful fragrance. All for me.

Steady on, Hilda.

Dot...

- Is there anything you'd like to tell me?
- What? I could tell you the time.

It's 1.25, precisely.

You're young and this must
be very embarrassing for you,

but nowadays, well, nowadays...

Girls of your age are much more open
about sex and all that.

- Mind if I go on with my sandwiches?
- I'm sure you realise men do get these...

- Well, these urges that come over them.
- I'll take your word for it.

And you are, quite desperately fanciable.
Well, I mean to say,

- you're extremely attractive.
- I do my best.

I'm sure you do.
I'm absolutely sure you do.

However, no man is entitled
to show his feelings in the workplace.

I agree. It's a short enough lunch hour.

Dot, I'd like you to feel we don't have
any secrets. You can trust me.

I want you to succeed,
perhaps rising from typist to junior clerk.

And then who knows? But for your own
sake, tell me what you really feel.

Dot, statement of claim.
It's extremely urgent.

- Just let me finish this.
- We can't talk in here.

- You're managing.
- Not properly.

- Come into my room.
- And look at your etchings?

No, no. I don't have etchings.
English watercolours. Shall we go?

I don't think so, quite honestly. I must get
on with Mr Inchcape's statement of claim.

He seemed quite desperate for it,
didn't he, poor man?

It's Tom!

Tom Randall - upstairs.
Something's happened.

Guv?

(Classical music)

- Mr Desmond Casterini?
- You know that.

I'm charging you with the murder
of Thomas Paul Randall.

Anything you say will be taken down
in writing and may be used in evidence.

- Have you been waiting?
- Oh, hardly at all.

- I'm in court this morning.
- I know. I've got to work, too.

I just wanted to see you. It's been
such a nightmare. All absolute nonsense.

Whatever they're suggesting, you'll help
Desmond? I've told him all about you.

- All about me?
- How well you did Billy's case.

- Oh, that's all organised.
- Oh, I'm glad.

I wanted to see you anyway.
I've felt so alone.

- I'm sure.
- It's wonderful to know you're with us.

Where are you off to now?

A session. Throbbing violins
to go with a deodorant commercial.

"Under your arms
it's always springtime."

- Not Schubert?
- Mendelssohn.

Thank God they haven't ruined Schubert
for me. The police keep calling.

- Asking me for statements.
- You haven't?

No, not yet. I won't say anything
that won't help Desmond, and you.

Henry, I need to speak to Dave.

Can you get me Hull Crown Court?
I'll be in Mr Rumpole's room.

Now she's into paying divorces,
she's too high and mighty to make calls.

- Can I see you soon?
- Better not if you're to be a witness.

When it's over, shall we have lunch?

I'd like that very much.

(Telephone rings)

Singleton v Singleton, Dave!

Look, we're an ex-Miss Broadstairs
and you're a filthy rich garage proprietor.

20,000 is absolutely useless to us.
You've got to do better than that.

Rumpole's had my Archbold.

You know perfectly well
we're having a baby, Dave!

Of course it's yours! There's not
a scrap of evidence to prove it's not.

Of course you can afford it.

I know you've got to go, Dave,
but we've got to get this settled.

Of course I miss you.

Bye.

Men(!) Totally irresponsible!
See you, Ballard.

See you... Probert.

You received a message on your
answering machine from Tom Randall,

- asking for a meeting for a talk.
- The last time I heard his voice.

It's like a terrible dream.
I still can't believe it.

You made a note on the message pad.
"Tom at rehearsal room. 6 o'clock."

Did you think he was going to tell you
that he and your wife were lovers?

- Apparently, he had no suspicion.
- Dear God! It never crossed my mind.

I've never had a single moment of doubt
about Elizabeth.

Yes, well, it's the jury that has to believe
you and they may take some convincing.

The obvious explanation is
you shot him in a jealous rage.

Upon my oath, by the great musicians
I hold most dear - Mozart, Haydn...

A simple "no" will do.

We might hit a judge that thinks those
are runners in the 3.30 at Kempton.

Now this... this rehearsal room.
Did you rent it permanently?

The trio liked to use it
when they pleased.

That must have been rather expensive.

It seems Mrs Casterini has money.
She started to make it in college.

That's what the client told me.

My Elizabeth sold
wonderful, magical clothes.

- Second-hand model dresses.
- We were born under a lucky star.

Oh, really? You surprise me. When
she was at college, there was a trial.

- I defended someone she knew.
- Yes, she told me about that.

They got to know a dubious character
called Hoffman. A musician's agent.

He was also an agent for hard drugs.

There was a boy at the college
accused of being in the ring.

Hoffman went down for 10 years,
but Billy was acquitted.

- Must have had a brilliant barrister.
- I didn't know Elizabeth in those days.

- I hadn't found that happiness.
- You weren't at college together?

Mr Casterini went to Guildhall.
He and his wife met later.

- That's when his wife's money helped.
- Yes, I'll bet it did.

Now this revolver,
you kept it with ammunition?

My dear old father, bless him, used to
sleep with it loaded under his pillow.

He was a poet by profession,
but some bad boys were after his blood.

Do you have any idea at all how this old
family heirloom got behind the piano?

No idea in the world.
I swear to you, sir, by...

Yes, all right. Never mind all that.
You received this message at noon.

- Did you go out after that?
- It's terrible.

It's like a dream.

Em, you had lunch
with your sister Siobhan.

She doesn't get over from Dublin often.
You saw a film together, had tea.

Like a dream...

You got to the building at about six.

The news had just started
on your car radio.

Mr Casterini...
What happened then?

In your own words.
You're going to have to tell the jury.

The lift was stuck, on another floor
most likely. It's always stuck.

- It's a prehistoric conveyance.
- Yes. And then?

- I went up the stairs.
- Did you meet anyone?

- Not a solitary soul.
- Was the door open?

No. Closed. Not locked, of course.

And then you found Mr Randall.

He was lying on the floor.
I knelt down and felt his heart.

Ah, yes. That's how
you got blood on your sleeve.

That'll be the defence case, anyway.

Look, Mr Casterini,

in a matter as serious as this, some
people may prefer a QC to defend them.

- I don't understand.
- A Queen's Counsel. A Queer Customer.

I'm not saying they'd do it any better -
probably worse -

but this is a very difficult case.

I rely upon you, Mr Rumpole.

Elizabeth told me
you're a wonderful man.

Oh, did she, really?

Oh... did she say that?

- (Knocking)
- Come!

You wanted to see me?
I thought it was time we had a chat.

Indeed, it is.
I have an important matter to raise.

- I raised one with you, remember?
- Miss Clapton.

- Dot.
- What?

- I said Dot. I call her Dot.
- Yes, I expect you do.

- It's an embarrassing matter...
- I don't really understand Dot.

- I simply couldn't get her to complain.
- Well, she has. To me.

- She has? Oh, good.
- You think it's good?

She says she's being harassed.

- Har-ASSED, Ballard. I told you.
- It comes to the same thing in the end.

The point is,
Miss Clapton is extremely worried.

Henry's behaviour was unforgivable!

- She didn't say a word about Henry.
- Who's she complaining about?

- You!
- What?

You pressed her to come into your room
to show her your watercolours.

- But, Ballard...
- You talked about terrible urges.

- I said we all have them!
- Speak for yourself, Erskine-Brown!

She said you found her "extremely
fanciable", an expression new to me,

but I can imagine what it means.
And you promised her a promotion,

- in exchange for a certain consideration.
- This is a totally unjustified accusation!

Totally... unjustified... accusation.
So you never said it?

- I may have said something like it, but...
- No, no, no, Erskine-Brown.

I want to be fair to you and give you
ample time to consider your defence.

- My defence?!
- I will give you one word of advice.

Make a clean breast of it to your wife.

I telephoned from Bernard Humphries.
This is Mr Rumpole.

- To view the scene of the crime.
- The lift is stuck at the moment.

- Yes, it seems it often is.
- Room Nine.

(Faint music)

They were here for hours on end,
practising, the client told me.

Just the three of them.

The eternal triangle, Mr Rumpole.
You can see how it happened.

Can you? Yes, I suppose you can.

Let's just run up to the top floor.

Oh, well done, Bernard!
Yes, just one or two other things.

Ask the Crown Prosecution Service
for the dead man's bank statements?

Oh, and I'd like a copy
of his birth certificate.

The Bill took a great pile of documents
out of the Casterini flat. Go over those.

- (Knocking)
- Looking for?

Oh, money, dealings,
itemised phone bills.

See what you can find. Bye.

- Rumpole...
- Yes?

- I feel a sense of imminent collapse.
- You don't look too well.

I refer to 3 Equity Court.
The foundations are rotten.

- Not the builders in again!
- They are useless in this situation.

It's not their hammering,
it's their bloody radio sets!

Lust, Rumpole. Flagrant immorality
has reared its ugly head all over.

When I... Do I detect
a curious odour in this room?

Anyway, when my case is complete,
I shall call a chambers meeting

and stop the decline and fall
of 3 Equity Court!

I love you, Ballard.

I take you for a pompous, blinkered,
humourless prig

who seems to confuse
the headship of a small chambers

with the Archbishopric of Canterbury!
And yet I love you with all my heart.

Tell me honestly, are you perfumed?

As I was saying,
I think it is our duty to love everything.

And because of that, well,
therefore, all I can say is I love you.

Yes, yes. Em... another time, perhaps.
I have a case starting across the road.

Think very carefully about what I said.
Moral decay everywhere.

Detective Inspector Baker,
is that the revolver

which you found behind the piano
in the room?

- That's right.
- Not very well concealed.

- Not particularly.
- And no fingerprints.

- That's right.
- Did that surprise you?

Let's use our common sense,
Mr Rumpole.

No doubt whoever did it
removed the prints to avoid detection.

Does that make sense to you,
members of the jury?

So this is the theory, is it?

My client took great care to leave
the gun where it could be traced to him

- and cleaned off the fingerprints?!
- Or else wore gloves.

Or else wore gloves.
That's another possibility.

But Mr Casterini has agreed
it was his weapon.

He would have been mad to leave it.

Mr Rumpole, we have a saying up north,
"There's nowt so queer as folk".

Oh, do you, my lord? How interesting.

Down here in the deep south, we are
inclined to seek a logical explanation

and that I shall invite the jury to do.

- I shall ask them to use common sense.
- Excellent idea!

I do so thoroughly agree
with Your Lordship.

- Any questions?
- No, m'Iord.

'Mr Justice Oliver, or OIly, Oliphant.

'Comes from the north of England,
as he never stops reminding us.

'Regards all of us south of Leeds
as idle dreamers,

'lying in the sun plucking grapes
and playing guitars.

'Why don't we chip in for a one-way
ticket back to Ilkley Moor?

'Or wherever it is he comes from.'

- Are you Michael Mathieson?
- Yes, I am.

Do you use practice rooms
under that of the Casterini Trio?

- Yes, I do.
- I think you know the trio.

- I was at college with two of them.
- You play the French horn?

- I do.
- Ah, that's brass. A beautiful sound.

We remember that from the old
colliery brass bands, don't we?

On one occasion, did Mrs Casterini
and Mr Randall come down together?

- Yes, they did.
- Did Mrs Casterini say...

Don't lead, please.

What did she say?

She said,
"I can't go on forever, not like this."

Then Mr Randall said, "I'll tell him.
Don't you think it's about time I told him?"

"...it's about time I told him."
No doubt that means Mr Casterini,

the lady's husband.

There is no evidence of that, my lord.

But we can use our common sense.

Isn't this the eternal triangle?

At the moment, all we know is
that they were members of a trio.

Get on with it, then.
The jury have homes to go to.

What time did you get there
on the night Mr Randall died?

It was shortly after six.

The lift was stuck again, so I started
up the stairs. I met Mr Casterini.

He said something happened to Tom,
to Mr Randall. We called the police.

Mr Casterini had blood on his cuff.

Thank you, Mr Mathieson.

- Did you hear a shot?
- No, I didn't.

No. And did Mr Casterini tell you

he'd found Mr Randall dead
and had no idea who'd done it?

- He told me that, yes.
- You were at college with the trio.

Just Tom and Elizabeth.

You said you knew Elizabeth well.

I suppose I was a bit in love with her.
Most men were.

- You can understand that, can't you?
- You mustn't ask me questions.

But I didn't get to know her well, no.

Just help us with one thing.
Did Mrs Casterini own a shop,

a boutique I suppose you'd call it,
for selling model dresses?

- Yes. It did rather well.
- What was it called?

It was Dreams of Youth,
as far as I can remember.

- Dreams of Youth.
- What has that to do with this case?

I'm not quite sure, my lord.

Perhaps they're things
some of us like to have.

If we all want a good laugh,
tune into the television set tonight.

They're giving us "Coronation Street".

And we all thoroughly enjoy that,
don't we? I'm looking at the clock.

Back at 10.30 tomorrow morning,
members of the jury.

And then use your common sense
and take this case seriously.

In spite of Mr Rumpole's performance.

Or yours, my lord.

- You always feared this would happen?
- Desmond seemed terribly jealous.

For no reason at all. I told him there was
nothing in it, but he wouldn't believe me.

I suppose I was frightened.
He had the gun.

He had the gun.
Thank you very much, Mrs Casterini.

While you were at college, did you own
a boutique called Dreams of Youth?

We're not going back to these dreams,
are we?

Don't worry. They may lead us
to wake up to the truth.

- You did well out of the shop.
- Yes, we sold it and invested that.

And you've lived quite well ever since.

With our fees for playing, yes.

Yes. Let me just remind you
of the last message the dead man left

for your husband.

"I want to talk about our lives
since the Dreams of Youth days."

- Was he referring to the shop?
- I don't think so.

Well, let's just suppose that he was.

While you were at college, a musician's
agent was tried for dealing in hard drugs.

- Students were said to be involved.
- You know that.

Yes, I may do, but the jury do not.
You attended that trial, didn't you?

Yes, a friend of mine was in the dock.
You got him off, brilliantly.

- We'll take that for granted.
- Mr Rumpole...

During the course of the trial,
there were a number of references

to people meeting at the boutique.

- I can't remember all the details.
- You were never charged?

There was nothing to be charged with.

M'Iord, if Mr Rumpole is suggesting
offence, the witness should be warned.

Thank you. I do know my business.

Mrs Casterini, you needn't answer
any questions that might incriminate you.

I'm quite prepared to answer
all Mr Rumpole's questions, m'Iord.

(Rumpole) Why, thank you.

One of the students gave evidence
for the prosecution.

He was not charged either.

A young man with a beard.

His name was Tom Cogsmill... then.

That is a photograph from the News
of the World. Do you recognise him?

Tom Cogsmill,
so far as I can remember.

Later to be known as Tom Randall,
beardless.

Member of your trio, the murdered man.

Yes.

- Who gave evidence for the prosecution.
- Yes, he did.

But who gave no evidence implicating
you in the musical drug ring.

Mr Rumpole, are those all
your questions about this ancient trial?

- Seems miles away from the issues.
- Ah, yes, my lord.

For the moment.

Mrs Casterini, your husband will say

that he was never jealous of you
and Tom Cogsmill.

You know that he was, don't you?

No, I don't know.
And the jury don't know.

All we know is what you've told us.

And perhaps we don't know
whether to believe you. Let us assume

that this was not just two men
quarrelling over a beautiful woman.

What other explanation is there
for Randall being shot?

I have no idea.
Suppose you tell me, Mr Rumpole.

Oh, indeed I will,
after a few more questions.

- Did you ever pay money to Randall?
- Money? No, I don't think so.

When the trio was formed,
did not you tell your husband

that you had given Tom Randall
some of your ample capital

so he could refuse work
to play with you?

I said I'd helped Tom out, yes.

- And did you go on paying him?
- What are you looking at?

Oh, the dead man's bank statements.

He received a regular payment
from a certain source. Was that you?

Perhaps, sometimes.

- Is that what it says?
- Was he blackmailing you?

Blackmailing me? Whatever for?

Threatening to tell your husband
of your part in the Hoffman drug ring.

No!

Do you remember what Mr Mathieson
heard Tom Randall say to you

one day by the lift? "I will have to
tell him before anyone else knows."

Did he mean that he had to tell your
husband that your nice lump of capital

- came from hard drugs?
- No!

- What did he mean, then?
- Perhaps that he loved me. I don't know.

What were you doing
when Randall died?

I went out in the morning, then I went
to a lunchtime concert in Portland Place,

oh, and I bought a dress.

- I'd a drink with our agent at six.
- Before that you popped back home,

saw what your husband had written.
"Tom Randall, rehearsal room, six".

- No.
- Mrs Casterini!

It didn't take you from lunchtime to six
to buy a dress! Did you carry it around?

No, I did just call back at the flat
to put it away.

- You didn't look at the message pad?
- I never saw that.

Did you ring Tom Randall from your
car telephone, arranging to meet him

at the rehearsal room
at about half past five?

No. No, of course not.

Car telephone bills have a nasty habit
of showing the number called.

You DID ring Tom Randall that day.

No, I... No, I'm sure I didn't.

- I can't remember.
- Didn't you go to the rehearsal room,

before six o'clock, taking the gun
in case Tom could not be dissuaded?

No! I had to meet the agent at six
at the Warren Hotel.

I told you that.

There's plenty of time to do the deed,

hide the gun, go up the stairs,
across the roof,

down the fire escape and into the street.
Immobilising the lift with the gate open.

How far is the Warren Hotel?
Round the corner!

You see,
if your husband was the murderer,

it's incredible he should
have left his gun at the scene!

M'Iord, that's not a question.

I do know my job, Miss Hilary Peek.

Move on to another matter,
Mr Rumpole.

Very well, my lord.

Let us go back to the vital question.

Who else had a motive
for killing Tom Randall?

Someone who wanted
to stop paying him blackmail?

Not me! It wasn't...

Why did you come here today
as a witness?

The police asked me.

You know you could not be compelled
to give evidence against your husband.

The police told you that.
You came here of your own free will.

Why?

To tell the truth.

As I know it.

Or to make sure that your husband was
convicted of a crime that you committed?

Is there anything else wicked
I'm supposed to have done?

Oh, yes. You persuaded your husband
to brief a barrister

you hoped would not attack you.

I am sorry to have disappointed you,
Mrs Casterini!

I never intended to harass Dot.

- What?
- Miss Clapton.

I heard Henry approaching her in a most
outrageous manner and asked about it.

So we could make a proper complaint.
And, well, she must have misunderstood.

- No, Erskine-Brown, she did not...
- What sort of outrageous manner?

He was going on about
the swishing of her stockings

and her modestly hidden breasts.

Oh, and he said, "Just you and I, two will
become one when our bodies mingle."

- Is that all?
- Rumpole, Rumpole!

Just because you won in Casterini
does not mean you can take over.

I have investigated this matter, Ballard,
which no one else seems to have done.

May I ask a simple question?

I am grateful. Have you forgotten
that Henry is a thespian, a mummer,

a member of Bexleyheath Amateurs?

That ghastly dialogue you heard
was a product of the fevered brain

of Miss Mildred Hannay, who has
written a play especially for the group.

What you had the misfortune to hear
was a rehearsal.

- Any further questions?
- Why are we wasting our time?

- There is the matter of your baby.
- What?!

How can you refuse
to maintain Probert's child?

Are we to have a public scandal?

God, I know what it was!

Ballard came in during our conversation
about Singleton v Singleton.

I wasn't talking about me and Dave!
It's our clients.

- That's hilarious!
- No, it's not.

I quite agree.

All of you seem to think, like Freud, that
sex is the explanation for everything.

But sometimes
it's something else entirely.

(Violin plays)

Mmm.

Any, uh...

Any chance of another chop, Hilda?

You've given up being vegetarian?

Oh, Lord, yes. The last vegetarian
I met was a murderer.

And a teetotaller.

Whatever came over you, Rumpole?
Doing those extraordinary things.

"I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful - a faery's child

"Her hair was long, her foot was light

"And her eyes were wild."

I suppose you're talking
about that Mrs Casterini.

When I think we sat there
and listened to her fiddling!

- If I'd known what she was like...
- Ah, but we didn't know, did we?

La belle dame sans merci
had us enthralled.

There are two chops going begging.

Oh, really?
Oh, Hilda, thank you very much.

You were never a faery's child,
were you?

That's another thing in your favour,
old darling.

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