All language subtitles for Rumpole s07e05 and the Family Pride.eng

Subtitles downloaded from www.OpenSubtitles.org

(Dog barks)

Don't be silly!

How very extraordinary. The
ffrench-Uffingtons are together again.

Walter Wilkinson, known as The Wally,
wants to confess to a triple murder!

At the Tower Bridge magistrates.
Walked into the nick uninvited...

"His much publicised romance
is apparently over."

Made a confession statement.

"And here's Harry ffrench-Uffington
with his lovely wife Myrtle

"at the Save the Starving Ball."

60-year-old man, no fixed address.
They thanked him very much,

washed him down, locked him up.

Lord Luxter's put on weight.

Remember how slim and handsome
he was on the polo field?

- Oh, please. Do you know these people?
- You can read it in Debbie's Diary.

You can read all about them.
I can't.

Well, perhaps you should.
You might learn about gracious living.

And not to blow on your tea to cool it.

I'm in a hurry.
Should I fan it with my hat?

Ah! Here it is.

- What?
- What I've been looking for.

- Sackbut Castle.
- What are you going to do with it?

"Home of the Sackbuts
since the 14th century,

"romantic setting in the north of England.

"Extensive rebuilding in 1815.

"The 17th Baron, Richard Sackbut,

"occupies a private wing of the castle
with his young second wife, Rosemary,

- "n�e Wystan."
- Wystan?

Yes. It's not all people
you've never heard of.

- You mean this Rosemary Sackbut?
- But born Wystan!

- Wystan, yes. Your lot.
- Exactly.

Uncle Freddie's son was the Wystan
who went into Assorted Chemicals.

Rosemary's his youngest.
She's my first cousin, once removed.

- Once removed to a castle.
- I bet they don't eat with their hat on.

Bye-bye, Hilda.

No wonder they didn't invite us!

I came over as soon as I heard.

Oh, Matthew, you're here. Excellent.

Anything about the time of death?

Well, she's been in the water.
Rigor not fully established.

I'd say, well, less than nine hours.

You'll get the post mortem results
as soon as possible.

I'm sure I will. Sergeant, send all personal
effects over to the coroner's office.

- Right, sir.
- Anyone made an identification?

Early days as yet, Dr Swabey.
(Wants everything done yesterday!)

All right, Simon. Carry on.

This must be distressing for you,
My Lord.

I thought it right that as Welldyke Coroner
I should inquire as soon as possible.

Swabey.

- I must ask you. You've seen the body.
- Of course I have. My boy found it.

Can you help us?
Anyone you can recognise?

No, of course not.

No one I've ever set eyes on before.

Ms Liz Probert! What are you doing
in these marbled halls?

Prosecution Junior. Ballard's leading me.

Oh, that seems to provide
the slender hope of acquittal.

Please don't try to be funny.
I'm not in the mood today, OK?

Yes, OK. See you in court.

Do you have a Walter "The Wally"
Wilkinson on the premises?

Come to see our triple, have you?

We're feeling a bit chuffed having him.

Not every day you get a triple murderer
walk in with his hands up.

- You know your way down, sir?
- Oh, yes. Thank you.

Your brief's arrived, Walter.
Got all you want?

This tea - pour it back in the horse.

We're just putting on a new brew up.
Would you like a couple of biscuits?

- I wouldn't say no.
- Smokes?

- Mr Bernard obliged.
- All part of the service.

Anything in the papers about my case?

Just the general background -
the house, victims.

Today's will be in the Standard.

- Save us one, would you?
- No probs.

Thanks, Percy.

You're getting the four-star treatment.

Well, I'm on a triple, ain't I?

Something out of the ordinary.
Naturally, they respect you for it.

We're going for a hack, Jonathon.
Coming?

- No, thanks.
- Come on, old man.

No, thanks awfully.

I don't know what's the matter with him.

Probably hasn't recovered
from finding that... thing.

Must have been terrible for him.

Terrible for all of us.

Sergeant sent them round to us, sir.
Accidental death the police decided.

- They're taking no further interest.
- Are they not?

All her worldly goods, apparently.

Not too poor to afford gin
and cigarettes, Thomas.

No doubt needed cheering up, sir.

Oh, yes. And called them "cups of tea"
when she begged for them in the street.

Who? That's the first question
we ask ourselves here. Who?

- What have you got there?
- Never the old lady's make-up, is it?

I'll take charge of that, thank you.

There's a picture postcard.

And a coach ticket.

London Victoria to Leeds.

I knew she came from the south.
Old folk up here have got more pride.

Hmm.

It's not a picture postcard, Thomas.

It's a photograph.

A very old photograph, indeed.

- So it's up to the Old Bailey.
- Yes, thank you. We'll work on it.

Well, you won the day. Walter the Wally
up for trial before his peers.

If we can find 12 sleepers
in cardboard boxes.

You fought over every scrap
of evidence!

Client's instructions.
You think I tried too hard?

Perhaps I was over-impressed
with a triple murder. Everyone else is.

By the way,
have you seen young Inchcape lately?

No, I haven't seen "young Inchcape".
You'd better find him for yourself.

Oh, dear, Ms Probert.
Liz, what on earth's the matter?

Nothing's the matter. Absolutely nothing.

- You don't burst into tears when you win.
- I'm not bursting into tears at all.

Why assume I'm bursting into tears
just because I'm a woman?

- Must be my contact lenses.
- Somebody in chambers upset them?

- Anything wrong with young Inchcape?
- Oh, God! That's just you all over.

Just stereotypical male vanity.

I'm a woman, so if I'm upset,
it must be about a man.

Men are all women get upset about(!)

Can I offer a stereotypical
male handkerchief?

No, thank you.

Oh, right,
it IS about bloody Dave Inchcape!

- I'm sorry. What's he done?
- It's what he is.

What he's been, in secret, and
he never bothered to tell me about it.

- Secretly married, is he?
- I could cope with that.

This is...
This is really unmentionable.

It's awful. I...

Oh, he's not worth bothering about!

Mr Rumpole, your wife is
on the telephone in the Police Room.

Oh, how very appropriate. Thank you.

Excuse me, please.

Rumpole! Rumpole, it's come at last!

On paper with the Sackbut crest.

What?

It's a letter from Rosemary, of course.
They want to see us.

"The splendour falls on castle walls
and snowy summits old in story.

"The long light shakes across the lakes

"and the wild cataract leaps in glory."

Rumpole, luggage.

Anyone would think
we're besieging this place for a year.

We don't want to wear the wrong things.

Such an imposing entrance. It's a pity
we don't have an imposing entrance.

Good afternoon. We are the Rumpoles.

- You'll have to leave that stuff here.
- Very gladly.

The rest of you is over there.

Over here, my party. Come along now.

Why on earth did she call us her party,
Rumpole? Excuse me!

No one you know?

The portrait on the right,
thought to be by Van Dyck,

is of Elizabeth, wife of the 7th Baron,

who was kept locked in her boudoir after
becoming overly familiar with a steward.

If you would all like to follow me,

we will now go up to the long gallery
and to the state bedrooms.

- Is the family about?
- Lord and Lady Sackbut are in residence.

They occupy the west wing,

which was built as a family mansion
in the year 1825. Come along, my party.

- Come along, Rumpole.
- Madam, that is closed to the public.

We are not the public.

In the first state bedroom...

We are the Rumpoles.
We've been invited for the weekend.

Is your mother...
I mean, is Rosemary?

They're not back yet. There's only me.

I am Hilda Rumpole
and this is my husband.

Good afternoon, sir.
I'm Jonathon Sackbut.

- Horace Rumpole.
- Rosemary is my cousin.

- Once removed.
- Rumpole.

- Auntie Hilda!
- Oh, Rosemary! There you are.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Richard's driving the horse box.
I took the car.

I was terrified of keeping you waiting.

- You must be Uncle Horace.
- I have no alternative.

Jonathon, I hope
you've been entertaining the Rumpoles.

Not really.

- Richard's son?
- Yes, Richard's son by his...

Anyway, Richard's son.

Let's see if we can rustle up some tea.

You would like a cup of tea,
Uncle Horace?

Ah, well, if you have anything
in the way of a bottle of red.

- Peasant claret is perfectly acceptable.
- Rumpole...

No, Auntie Hilda. Let Uncle Horace have
what he wants. We're going to spoil him.

Oh, do come and sit down.

You must be exhausted after all those
absolutely splendid court cases you do.

Splendid cases -
Walter "The Wally" Wilkinson(!)

Rosemary says they've invited over
Lord "Plunger" Plumpton.

Why Plunger? Was he a high diver?

He used to gamble terribly.
You should keep up with Debbie's Diary.

Hugo Swabey, our local coroner.
He's enjoying every minute of it.

Bouncing round like a terrier on heat.

- You've seen him out hunting, Plunger.
- Absolutely everything wrong with him.

- He comes out like a dog's dinner.
- Gives him an understanding of foxes.

Don't suppose he got near a fox.
He has a string on his top hat.

- Has no one ever told him?
- And the red coat

- when no one's asked him to wear it.
- That's not the point.

A red coat with FLAT buttons.
Imagine that, Mrs Rumpole.

Yes, of course, flat buttons.
Very extraordinary.

Flat, shiny buttons with no hunt crest.

He's got the whole thing
off the peg from Moss Bros.

- Oh, is... is that a serious offence?
- Depends on what you think is serious.

Ah, well, I only deal in murder
and robbery and such like.

Trivial pursuits. It's the first time
I've heard of the crime of flat buttons.

We had a rather nasty accident here,
Rumpole.

Some old tramp woman
drowned herself in the lake.

Is Swabey going to be
a pain in the neck about it?

You know what he's like.
Wants to get his name in the papers.

Thinks he'll discover things that aren't
there to be discovered. It's just a bore.

- And nothing to do with you.
- That doesn't make you responsible.

Most people have a lake of some sort.
Eh, Rumboy?

Not too many around Gloucester Road,
I'm afraid.

Talking of state trials,

darling Uncle Horace was telling me
about a sensational one yonks ago.

In a bungalow, wasn't it?

The Penge Bungalow Murders.
Extraordinary case. I was quite young.

A white wig, in fact.
I won it, alone and without a leader.

Where is Penge, actually?

I don't know. Isn't it near Bognor?

- Rosemary, shall we?
- Shall we leave the men to their?

Murder cases, apparently(!)

- Hilda?
- See you later.

By the way, Rumboyd, can you get
your gamekeepers to eat rook?

Rook. Now that you mention it,
I don't believe I've ever really tried.

When I was a boy, gamekeepers lived
on rook. Their wives made pies.

You won't find a woman
who will do that today.

No. As a matter of fact, I don't have
any gamekeepers, or rooks either.

I thought you had a place in Gloucester.

Horace...

Rosemary tells me you've had
a great deal of success in your cases.

I have acquired a certain reputation
around the Brixton cells.

This is the first time
I've been famous in a castle.

And a good many of these cases
have dealt with, well, dead people?

Dead people, yes.
Contrary to popular opinion,

I've always found
they can tell you quite a lot.

Would you be free for a chat tomorrow?

If you're still available for business.

Oh, always. Always available.

Good. That's very good.
Well, shall we join the ladies?

Yes, let's join them.

And make one huge, enormous lady!

Ha ha ha.

I need never have suffered
this blunt execution.

We wore the wrong things,

but they never said a word.

Did you notice that, Rumpole?
Not once.

- It was sweet of them to invite us.
- Why do you think they did?

Well, we're family, aren't we?

No, Hilda, not because we're family.

Not even to make up for not inviting us
to the wedding.

Richard Sackbut is in trouble. He has
that in common with Walter the Wally.

His Lordship needs a good brief.

That's Richard's father.
Did amazingly brave things in the war.

Looks exactly like Richard, doesn't he?

- No portrait of Richard's mother?
- Have you any wedding photographs?

Oh, yes. Absolutely loads of them.

Take a pew.

The collection of arms covers
several centuries in Europe

as well as specimens
from India, Persia and Africa.

The suits of armour hanging on the walls

- date from about 1580.
- Rumpole!

Mr Rumpole?

Dr Hugo Swabey.
I'm the Welldyke coroner.

- Oh.
- We met briefly

when you came up to Leeds on
that stabbing in the old people's home.

You gave some rather interesting
evidence on the direction of stab wounds.

Well, thank you very much. One
sometimes throws light in dark corners.

Well, seeing the sights
of the North Country, are you?

No, as a matter of fact,
we are guests of the Sackbuts.

Oh, you're privileged.

I have never been invited
into the private apartments,

strange as it may seem,
into the holy of holies.

Though I go out with the hunt and I'm
pretty well known in the neighbourhood.

His Lordship invited you, did he?

I imagine it was his wife.

Women don't take decisions
in the Sackbut clan.

Come to think of it, it may have been an
intelligent move with the inquest coming.

Oh, yes, I heard about that.
Some old bag lady tumbled into the lake.

- One of the homeless, I believe.
- Is that what she was?

Or was she looking for a home?

All these suits of armour.

Maximum protection
and nothing much inside them.

Typical Sackbut.

- Have you come here to see my client?
- Oh? Is His Lordship that already?

He has asked me to represent the family
at the inquest.

Really? That will be fun.

There's just one thing you might
be asking your client to explain.

Oh, yes? What's that?

An old photograph found
on the dead lady.

It shows a woman holding a baby,
out there on the castle terrace.

And a man in uniform. There's no doubt
who the man is - your client's father.

- No mistaking the Sackbut features.
- How very interesting.

- Yes, isn't it?
- Have you any other little treats in store?

Wait and see, Mr Rumpole.
Just you wait and see.

Is that her what you saw, Mr Saggers?

Yes. Yes, I think so.

You think so?

No, correction. I'm sure.

Thank you.

This is the place?

- Just here.
- Thank you.

Yes. I've been talking to the coroner.
He doesn't seem to like you very much.

No. I have to say
the feeling's entirely mutual.

- Tell me what's really worrying you.
- What do you mean?

Why ask for the expert advice
of Rumpole of the Bailey

because some old bag woman drowns?

It's very sad, of course, but that's
hardly a threat to your peace of mind.

Well, we're open to the public.
People may say we're not safe.

Nonsense! You're not responsible
for tramps in the night.

What's the real problem? And what's
making the Grand Inquisitor of Welldyke

so self-importantly excited?

Perhaps...
Well, it's entirely a family matter.

Well, tell me.
I'm used to hearing about family matters.

- Murder's often a family matter.
- Murder? Who said anything about that?

No one yet.

But dear old Dr Swabey is bursting
to come out with it.

Anything suitable for wearing
in a cardboard box?

You taking up residence in one?

No, I've got a client
who may have to go back to one.

- They're about to start the dog show.
- Bring and buy sale AND a dog show?

Can Rumpole survive this excitement?

(Applause)

- Well done, Plungy-poo.
- Thank you very much.

- Well, congratulations.
- Thank you.

Bosun and I win it every year.
God knows what I'll do when he snuffs it.

A bottle of cherry bounce presented
by Dr Swabey. It's rubbish.

- We might get something more bearable.
- That's a bright idea of yours, Rumpus.

You have this sort of do, do you,
at your place in Gloucester?

I hear my old friend Horace Rumpole
is representing you at the inquest.

- Yes.
- I do think that's wise of you.

Extremely wise.

I hardly think it's worth his trouble.
I imagine it's a formality.

Oh, you imagine that, do you?

We haven't heard all the evidence yet.

Interesting, isn't it?
People looking like their dogs.

Or their fathers, of course.
Richard, for instance.

Like his father? Oh, spitting image.
He was a damn fine fellow, Robert.

Had a bloody good war, too.

Peace didn't treat him quite so kindly.

Came back home to find all sorts of
things wrong, pheasant covers cut,

- rooks out of control.
- Rooks.

Labour government,
something seriously dicky with the roof.

Things not so marvellous
on the domestic front, either.

- Did you know his mother?
- It depends what you mean by know.

Not in the biblical sense, old boy.
I was probably in the minority.

She seemed a very nice woman to me.
A bit affected.

Used to call Richard "Ricardo",
with a sort of Italian accent.

Or was it Riccardino?
He hated it.

- What was her name?
- Margaret. Maggie we used to call her.

- Ran off and married an Italian.
- What happened to her?

In the end? In the end, she died.

Are you sure of that?

There were lots of rumours of her coming
back to England, but I never believed it.

I suppose I was about nine.

Yes, I was just nine, at my prep school.

Message came through. "Headmaster
wants to see you after prayers."

Well, you knew what that meant.

You got that awful feeling
in the pit of your stomach

and sweaty palms.

Anyway, I knocked on his door
and there he was -

Snowy. Snowy Slocombe.
Big, tall fella with a shock of white hair.

He told me to close the door.

I walked up to his desk and he said,

"Sackbut,
I know you will take this like a man."

It was then I knew exactly
what I was in for. And then he said,

"I've just had your father
on the telephone.

"He asked me to let you know
your mother's dead."

Do you know what I felt, Rumpole?
I felt an enormous kind of relief

that he wasn't going to beat me.

Did your father tell you how she died?

Not really.

When I got back for the holidays,

my father said, "I suppose
Slocombe gave you that message?"

I told him yes. I don't think
we really discussed it much after that.

But didn't you make any sort of inquiry?

- No.
- Why not?

I don't think he wanted me to.

Have you any idea how old your mother
would be if she were alive now?

- Not really. Sixty... something.
- In her sixties.

Has it never occurred to you that...
she might try to get in touch with you?

You mean come back from the dead?

Something like that, I suppose.

No.

What a wonderful evening - opera!

That fellow was dreadfully overweight
for the Egyptian army.

Rumpole, I think I've got
a young relative in your chambers.

- Oh, really?
- David Luxter, son of my cousin Bertie.

- Grandson of the old Lord Chancellor.
- He's not in Rumpole's chambers.

He doesn't use the family name.
He didn't want to trade on it.

He picked a name from a poem he learnt
at school. Something about a rock...

Inchcape! "Till the vessel strikes
with a shivering shock

- "Oh, Christ! It is the Inchcape Rock!"
- David Inchcape. Son of a lord?

- He must be an Honourable.
- I suppose he is.

An Hon. Will Ms Liz ever forgive him?

The trouble with the opera is you keep
tripping over all these people.

- Terribly inconsiderate of them.
- I suppose they really must enjoy it.

Oh, yes, it's their annual holiday.

They save up for a nice warm spot.

- What a heavenly evening, Richard!
- Mr Rumpole?

- Er, excuse me.
- Mr Rumpole!

Mr Rumpole, I recognise you, sir.
I seed your picture in the paper

when you defended Walter the Wally.

What's happened to your husband?
Do you think he needs some help?

I'm afraid he's met a friend.
Let's walk on, shall we?

Wally was with me that night. We was
all down under Hungerford Bridge.

But Wally got into an argument
with Bronco Billington.

Now I know he don't look it,
but Wally is strong when he's roused up.

He left poor old Bronco flattened.

So we went off sharpish,
round Centrepoint.

Next day I read in the paper
about this triple murder.

Wally was with me all that night.
Straight up, he was.

He thought he'd done
for poor old Bronco,

who never had good health.

- And had he?
- No, bless him, no!

Bronco was out Thursday midnight,
singing his head off on a bottle of meths!

Many thanks.

Here.

Don't waste it all on cups of tea.

You must have been sure of her death
or she'd have a claim on the estate.

Not really, Mr Rumpole.

Richard's father started divorce
proceedings before she left England.

The case went through undefended.

As she was no longer married
to Lord Sackbut, she had no claim.

- Did Richard know that?
- I don't think we ever discussed it.

- Who did she go off with?
- An Italian prisoner of war.

I suppose she misconducted herself
and joined him in Italy.

- Oh, did you do as I asked?
- We always obey counsel's instructions.

I must say, in all humility,

I can't understand why Richard didn't
allow us to conduct the inquest.

Perhaps you're too much of a gentleman
to deal with an obnoxious coroner.

And may I remind everyone
this is a solemn proceedings,

the Coroner's Court.

We have the duty, you and I,
to inquire into the mysteries of death.

And I hope we may do so
without interruption.

Dr Malkin, please continue.

She was a woman in her late sixties,
poor general health.

I came to the conclusion that death was
probably caused by a blow to the head

before the body entered the water.

I didn't think it was death by drowning.
There was no water in the lungs.

It might be caused by a deliberate attack?
A blow to the head by some assailant?

I thought it might.

- Before the body was put into the lake?
- Yes.

Which would make this
an unlawful killing,

or, to use a word with which the jury
might be more familiar, murder.

- I can't rule that possibility out.
- Dr Malkin...

Mr Rumpole! Do you wish to apply
to ask the pathologist a question?

- A good many questions.
- Then I shall grant your application.

Very generous, sir.

Dr Malkin, in a case of this sort,
is it not possible for death to occur

due to a sudden cardiac arrest?

- It has happened with drunken sailors.
- It has happened, yes.

With no water in the lungs?

Perhaps not.

We know this woman had
an almost empty gin bottle,

and a high level of alcohol in the blood.

- Fairly high.
- So it remains a possibility

that this unfortunate woman
may have died due to heart failure?

It's... It's possible, yes.

Now, dealing with the blow to the head,

there were a number of branches
and a tree stump with traces of blood?

- Yes.
- Would you rule out the possibility

that this unfortunate woman, having
drunk too much, slipped and fell

striking her head on the tree stump?

I can't rule that out altogether.

Thank you, Dr Malkin.

It seems that we may have reached
a sensible interpretation of the facts.

Dr Malkin, we gather from your evidence
that this blow might have been accidental

or it might have been deliberate. Right?

- Quite right, sir.
- Thank you, Dr Malkin.

We'd now like to ask Mr Saggers
a few questions.

Oh.

Yes, as soon as possible, Mr Cursitor.
As quick as greased lightning.

(Dr Swabey) Mr Tonks,
the photograph, if you please.

Mr Saggers, when did you first see
the lady in that photograph?

- The lady in the lake.
- The day before they found her, sir.

She came to the castle entrance
and wanted to go in.

As she wasn't in a group that had paid,
I asked her for the �2.

She said she hadn't got it, but...
she wanted to see His Lordship.

I told her that wouldn't be possible.
I didn't think he'd want to see her.

Then she just sort of wandered off.

And what time was that about?

Just before four o'clock, sir.
I was going off on my tea break.

Continue, Mr Saggers.

Then, as I was passing
the formal garden,

where the white border
runs down to the statue,

well, I saw them then.

You saw who, Mr Saggers?

The old lady... and His Lordship.

- What were they doing?
- Just talking, sir.

- I saw them, then went for my tea.
- Have you any questions, Mr Rumpole?

Mr Saggers, how long did you
see these two together?

Perhaps half a minute. I didn't stop.

- How far away were they? 50 yards?
- Yes, about that, sir.

- Was the sun behind them?
- I think it was.

Then you couldn't see
Lord Sackbut's face clearly.

I know what I saw, Mr Rumpole.

To be quite honest with you,
I've got no doubts about it.

- He's going to tell a lie.
- What?

Richard Sackbut did speak to that
old lady, but he's going to lie about it.

Richard would never do that.

Why not? Because he's a lord?
Because he lives in a castle?

People have been lying in this place
since the Wars of the Roses.

Lying and locking up their wives.

Because their fathers did it.

The first time I saw the old lady was
when her body was found in our lake.

My Lord, you told me that at the time.
No doubt others heard you.

But you'll have heard Mr Saggers'
evidence. Is Mr Saggers lying?

I'm not saying that. Saggers is mistaken.
I didn't speak to the old lady.

Very well. The jury will make up
their minds who is telling the truth.

Lord Sackbut, when you were a boy,
your mother left your father.

I fail to see what that has to do with this.

Bear with me.
It may have a great deal to do with it.

At that time, did your father tell you
that your mother was dead?

- She was dead, yes.
- How did you know?

- Because my father said so.
- Did it ever occur to you

that your father was so angry with your
mother that he pretended she had died

so you wouldn't see her again?

It never occurred to me that he would lie.

Do you not know that there have been
many rumours in your family

and in the town
that your mother didn't die,

- but was still alive many years later?
- This is intolerable!

Lord Sackbut is here to give evidence,
not to deal with tittle-tattle!

Mr Rumpole, don't get excited. At your
age it may be injurious to your health.

Mr Tonks, the photograph, please.

We've had evidence that this photograph
was in the old lady's possession.

Let's look at it, shall we?

- Is that the terrace of Sackbut Castle?
- Yes.

And is the man in it your father
as he was in the late 1940s?

- It is my father, yes.
- I'm so very much obliged.

There is also a woman with a baby.

- Is that woman your mother?
- I really can't say.

You can't remember
what your own mother looked like?

Not altogether clearly, no.

I suggest to you that it is a family group -

your father, your mother and yourself
as a very young child.

- I suppose that is a possibility.
- Or a probability.

Now can you tell the jury
why this old lady had that photograph

when she came visiting
Sackbut Castle?

How can my client possibly answer that?

Let me suggest an answer to assist him.

Could it be because she was the lady
your father, in a fit of wounded pride,

had given out as dead?

I object to that! Is this an inquest
or are we telling each other fairy tales?

- There is not a scrap of evidence...
- Oh, yes, there is, Mr Rumpole.

There is a photograph.

Now if this old lady was the Dowager
Lady Sackbut, fallen on evil days...

- lf...
...she'd hardly be a welcome visitor.

After all that time? Come, no doubt,
with a claim for money?

Didn't it occur to you
that she might be better dead

as your father had wished
so many, many years ago?

This way, please.

Mr Rumpole, you have asked me to take
the evidence of this witness, Mrs...

- Petronelli, sir.
- Mrs Petronelli.

I have no idea what light she can throw
on this dark subject.

Oh, then let me help you out. What was
your name before you married, madam?

Lady Margaret Sackbut.

Lady Margaret Sackbut, sir.
And your son is?

- Richard.
- It's many years since you saw him.

I'm afraid it is. A great many years.

While you were married
to Signor Petronelli, you lived in Como.

Yes. My husband had a hotel there.

When he died, I sold it
and came back to England.

- To where in England?
- To London. I live in Southwark.

Mr Tonks... Would you look
at this photograph, please?

Since you have lived there,

have you become interested
in a charity for homeless people?

There seem to be so many in that part
of London. We give them meals, beds,

even invite them home sometimes.

- That's Bertha.
- Bertha?

When I first met her, she was sleeping
at the back of Waterloo Station.

I let her stay with me one night
when we couldn't find her a bed

and we began to talk. She told me about
her husband, who had been a builder,

and gone bankrupt,
sent to prison for some reason.

I don't know why.

I told her about Sackbut Castle.
And my son.

I never really talked about it
to anyone else,

but it seemed it wouldn't matter.

She stayed the night in your house.
Did she leave the next morning?

Yes. I never saw her again.

Was there anything missing
after she had gone?

Well, yes. A photograph
I'd shown her when we were talking.

I kept it in a desk,
not on display or anything.

- When Bertha went, that went with her.
- Mr Tonks?

Is that the photograph?

Yes, it is.

One final question.

Did your son ever hit you
and push you into a lake?

No.

No, he never did that to me.

Even if he thought I deserved it.

Accidental death!

Hilda. "The jury in the Sackbut Castle
case has said accidental death."

- Blah, blah, blah.
- You said Richard was lying.

Oh, yes.
Bertha waylaid him in the garden.

She told him she had news for him,
probably asked him for money.

He didn't believe her and sent her away,
so she wandered around Welldyke

and then returned in the evening,
full of gin, and unsteady on her pins.

Splash! It really was an accident.

- But why did he lie?
- Oh, I don't know, Hilda.

Perhaps he had a secret fear that Bertha
was his mother. It had been 30 years.

But recognising her
would make his father a liar.

The father who could do no wrong.

So he just pretended
he hadn't the faintest idea.

That wasn't very nice of him.

But, luckily,
his mother reads the Daily Telegraph.

- Why luckily?
- Didn't I tell you?

Bernard placed an advertisement.

"Riccardino wants to see Mother.
Ring this number."

- Poor woman.
- (Telephone rings)

- Poor, poor woman.
- Which one?

Yes? Rumpole... Ah, Ms Liz!

Ah? You're offering no evidence against
Walter the Wally? Why not, pray?

Oh, they found who did it.

You'll have to buy me a celebratory
plonk at Pommeroy's, won't you?

Bye.

Do you know why the Wally confessed
to a triple murder, Hilda?

Snobbery. Pure snobbery.

He thought he'd done in an old dosser,
but he didn't want to be done

for something so downmarket,
so he put his hand up to a triple murder.

That way he could join the upper crust
at Pentonville Prison.

And be treated like a lord
by all the screws.

- Rumpole?
- Yes?

I don't think we'll go
to Sackbut Castle again.

Oh, I don't think we'll be asked.

There we go.

Liz... I wanted to tell you.

I know all about the Honourable
David Luxter, or Dave Inchcape.

Honourable(?) It makes me feel sick.

He comes from
a pretty dodgy background.

He's got old Lord Chancellor Luxter
as a granddad.

Instead of having a decent upbringing in a
one-parent family, he's the son of a lord.

In other words, he was a deprived child.

A what?!

They all are, Liz,
all the lords and ladies and what-not

that figure in Debbie's Diary
and Coronet magazine.

They turn their sons out of home

and put them in some young offenders'
institution like Eton,

they tell them lies,
that their mother's dead.

The dice are loaded against
the young Inchcapes of this world.

I suppose he has been
discriminated against.

- One of the outcasts of society.
- I shouldn't have withdrawn my support.

Replace it, Liz.
Prop the poor bloke up.

It's a bloody unjust world, Rumpole!

All your years in the law,
you've only just discovered that?

Best watched using Open Subtitles MKV Player

Repair and Synchronization by
Easy Subtitles Synchronizer 1.0.0.0