Original subtitles

Another letter for you, sir.

I wish my husband would get out of this room.

He was drunk and disgusting as ever.

Was it?

Are you writing that as George Keeney?

He never saw it.

What's this?

Oh, it's one of those letters that Mrs. Isabel Trolley.

Mr Dangerfield, I must know exactly what your intentions are.

No, it's working a half drunk.

There's no money of feeling over.

You can't just kill one. You gotta kill them all.

Father!

Your father is dead.

Are you in front of your mother? My husband was conducting a liaison.

Don't touch me! What do you think you're doing?

No!

Don't you find on stepmother how father died.

He's never been ill in his life.

What are you suggesting?

That he was poisoned.

I'm sorry.

This is the clerk's office.

Oh, a moment.

This is Mr. Rocket Dangerfield.

Paul van der Venden, Rogers Ernie's son.

I'm so sorry to hear about the death of your father.

Paul is under instruction here.

I hear you've come from India to marry non-chollet.

And to work here?

Seems a long way for either purpose.

That is the office of the late Mr. van der Venden.

Well, since empty, why shouldn't I just move in here?

Because this is the managing director's office and you two are under instruction.

So like Paul, you can work in here with the chief clerk.

Much the most sensible arrangement.

I dare say.

Just here, I think.

And Master Paul can help you with any questions you might have.

Makes you think, though, doesn't it?

Just a few weeks ago, a tall, strong man was walking around this room and then...

Oh, Richard and Pukin, and now he's dead.

Yeah.

Even when he was alive, he didn't have much fun on this mattress.

You and I could put it to much better use, eh?

Oh, no.

You know what they say about a dead man's clothes?

Well, I feel the same about his mattress.

Now, it's a show, no, he never had no fun, isn't it?

I mean, I had some men like him.

Oh, well, you had plenty of fun, all right.

But he didn't have it here.

A big, strong man would need his fun somewhere, he'll do now, wouldn't he?

Why, do you?

Men of Mr. van der Venden's constitution don't die of a billiess attack.

An orgasmic fever, neither.

Whatever it was that Dr. Porter said.

Oh, I made you think that nothing's safe, doesn't it?

I think it's what it seems.

Hilda!

I cannot stay here, mother.

There are too many memories.

The memories of the dead are with as always, Beatrice.

There is no escape.

It's not the dead, I wish to escape.

It's the living.

No, you will stay here until I say so.

For who's sake?

For the sake of propriety.

What is this object to do with me?

I found this in the bottom drawer of Wargess Deiss.

Please supply me with the name and address of the person who ordered a corset from you that was delivered such a thing.

A very pertinent question that eliminates one explanation of its problems and needs me free to concentrate on others.

I'm not sure.

It's only a lie.

Tell me what's wrong.

I can hardly bear to look at you.

What do you mean?

This pin.

Yours, I believe.

Well, it is yours, isn't it?

I found it in Wargess draw.

Don't do this, Beatrice.

Why not?

It's yours.

It's yours.

It's yours.

It's yours.

It's yours.

It's yours.

It's yours.

It's yours.

It's yours, isn't it?

That's enough.

That's enough.

No, it's not enough.

Why should you steal a woman's husband?

Eat him alive.

And then be allowed to go as free as air.

Roger loved me.

Do you know that?

Do you understand that?

You've done him to death with your incessant udness.

And you stand here when accused, just saying, that's enough.

Yes, but I'm sure it is enough for you.

Godged on Roger's flesh.

Sucking his blood like a vampire.

What's the matter?

Stay mother.

Don't ask.

Don't ask.

Don't ask.

You're too young to know.

Thank you, ma'am.

Your friend, Mr. Wolfen, when's he coming?

Not today.

He's very in rent.

You can't keep this room unless he pays.

I think you have a letter addressed to him.

Or letters for Mr. Wolfen.

I put there.

This would have been another kind of letter.

Like one of these, it should have arrived by now.

Where is it?

You mean I stole it?

That is live.

Or letters for Mr. Wolfen were here.

And my bill is here too.

Now, are you going to pay it, lady?

Mr. Wilson will pay for it when he comes.

Mr. Price.

Mr. Price, where is that letter addressed to him?

Maybe I'll give it to Mr. Wilson.

If it comes.

Time for a report, Robert.

I'm going to be with the firm long enough to give me at least your preliminary impression.

The firm, Mrs. Colard, has been left in a very fair condition by the late Roger van de Vent.

But now he's gone.

It will decline very swiftly.

Unless it's ruled with a strong supple hand.

Yes, Robert.

Mine.

You will need a deputy equipped with proper powers for the task.

Actually, on the ground.

Me.

You have all the powers you are going to have, Robert, until the six months of your probation or over.

From this day until that, I shall insist and ensure, Robert, that everything stays exactly as it is now.

Unless the worms get me first.

Mrs. Colard, I need a certain sum of liquid money and I need it now.

If your credit is as good as you would have me believe, no doubt your bankers will accommodate you.

Robert, I am well aware of your motives for marrying Charlotte.

However, she may deceive herself.

Unless you give satisfaction, the end of your probation will mean the end of you.

Mom, Hilda, some time ago I gave you some letters to post.

One of them, possibly more, has not arrived.

You're quite sure you posted them? All of them.

Of course, Mom. You didn't ask somebody else to post them for you, did you?

All the letters you gave me, Mom, I put into the post box myself.

I mean, I can see my hand doing it, Mom.

Very well, Hilda.

Stammapéed hard-burdened turbulence?

It started this afternoon. You remember Charlotte?

I remember Mama, just after Mr Dangerfield left.

You took down Rifishman together?

I had a little sultzer.

And what did you have for your luncheon previously?

Strasbourg pie and Dover cell.

In a champagne sauce. And then pancakes gromonye? A small, simple luncheon.

Difia, your luncheon from now on will have to be even simpler, Mrs Colard.

For the risk, though there is nothing at all to worry about, may I respectfully suggest that, uh,

you take one cable from full of this mixture every three hours into the bottle is finished.

I shall also presume to tender a brief list of foodstuffs which it might be prudent to avoid.

You did something of the kind for Roger, I'm told. Before you'd finished the list, he was dead.

Oh, chattering tongue-shuck!

We must not brood on Roger's death, simply because that insolent youth, Dr Hessel,

chose to use it as a casium to push himself forward.

Hessel has given several causes for dissatisfaction since then.

I am happy to say that I have persuaded him to leave the pectus.

I believe that he is now with some suburban establishment for the criminally insane.

In a bonnet!

All right.

As your accounts will gone, sir, with man, precept upon precept,

line upon line, here a little there.

I've had a little talk with Mrs. Collard.

She seems very pleased with where business is picking up again.

It seems to me that after all the sadness that's been, what's needed now is a bit of pleasure.

Pleasure?

Yes, Bertie, pleasure.

A party of pleasure to celebrate Mrs. Collard's birthday.

Is it, I thought?

Battle Sunday, proper champagne?

Up West.

Oh, and Harriet wouldn't hear of it.

Why not, Mother needs cheering, huh?

She keeps thinking she's ill.

This will be something I had to look forward to.

Not for me, the haunts of Beeliel and Beelzebub.

Paul, you'll come, old man.

Yes, love to.

What did you have in mind?

Something with a jolly ending.

Shut the door.

What's he up to?

Exactly.

Getting you all down.

Oh, this is serious.

What's he up to achieve with all this treating and slamming?

He wants flesh parts and limbs of Satan.

He wants filthy Luca and the kingdom of this world.

He wants to run the company.

Look, if he's prepared to take on this dreariness, then let him be king of the castle.

Chocolate?

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Your carriage is waiting, Mom.

Where is Mr. George?

What's gone out, Mom?

I wish to see him on my return.

The moment I return understood.

Stop, Parker.

Stop!

Oh, dear.

Wait here.

Sit there.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Wait here.

Don't move.

Wait!

What?

Do you think you're doing?

Making an exhibition of yourself like this and telling you for the first and last time.

Never come here like this again.

Never?

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Well, Mother, what, Mother?

You saw very well for yourself.

Some woman of the streets plying her filthy trade and I keep on assending.

And take that meanly look off your face.

You're as hungry as a jackal for that man of yours, so we want no heirs and braces from you.

Isabelle.

I thought you were a church.

What?

Giving thanks that old heritage has only got wind instead of ulcers.

Don't be so bitter.

It's very difficult these days. You've certainly upset Stepma Mar.

Well, I'm sorry for that. Paul, I need your help.

I've...well, I've written some foolish letters.

Somebody I don't know who or how has managed to get hold of them.

And he is demanding money.

Money for letters?

Well, I'm afraid I can't give you-

Oh, no. No, darling, Paul. Of course I should not come to you for money.

At first the man said if I gave him the money he would send the letters back, but he didn't send them.

None of them.

And now he's started demanding more.

But I'm not going to pay anymore.

What I am going to do is send a special envelope, mode, to the address, 123 rex-alvert and Greenwich.

It should arrive tomorrow. Well, sometime in the afternoon.

If you could go there and see who collects it,

they will know who the blackmailer is.

Thanks, Paul.

Bye.

So, Master Paul, you took it upon yourself to play the spy.

Well, don't talk to me like that. You're a blackmailer, Jenkins.

I'll see you breaking rocks on Darkmon. Get out of this house.

It's not your place, Master Paul, to start dishing out the sack.

Mrs. Collard runs this house, not you.

You're not holding off, you see.

And I'll tell you something else for free. You'll get no thanks or anything else for that matter, for interfering.

Just get out of this house.

Well?

I've told Jenkins I shall go to the police.

You must not do that, Paul. Anything but that.

Well, what do you want, Ben?

I just want my letters back. I must have a talk with Jenkins.

Talk with Jenkins? Isabel, he is loathsome. He cannot stay in this house. I will talk to Step-Grand.

Darling, Paul, no one must ever hear about this. I'm so grateful to you. You've done wonders.

But now you must let me speak to Jenkins. I agree with you that he must leave.

It is simply that I must speak to him first.

Jenkins, I know what.

Who have we here?

How much do you want?

A hundred. Each.

That's impossible.

Impossible? I'd say that's very reasonable after what you've been up to.

I have just escorted on Harriet and Charlotte to the carriage, and I wish you all a very good evening.

Isabel?

I don't know. She says something about some last minute instruction for the servants. George?

So, a hundred, a letter. And that will do.

For now.

Time to hang about here. Well, late already.

APPLAUSE

Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

Oh, God!

Ladies and gentlemen, it is perhaps not proper that I should smoke in front of you, but then, nor is it proper that you should disturb me while I smoke.

I'm so happy that you all admire my clever, beautiful little play as much as I do, which is very much indeed.

And so, I congratulate myself on my genius, you on your exquisite good taste, and the past on an admirable performance.

That's Oscar Harriet, your rehearsal is in front of him, but it's never mind. God will have been listening to him.

But before God revenges himself on Mr. Wild for actually giving pleasure in the world, he would be a very fascinating man to meet.

I'm sure you meet a great man, eh?

Finished, sir?

Not quite.

I'll have that.

George?

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no. I suspect that this is a hen lobster.

A female.

A female is not your taste, George.

You know as well as I do, danger for you, but a hen lobster should only be used in making a lobster sauce.

It should never be served as an actual fish.

How typical that the female at the species should be only used as a sauce in order to complement and flatter the magnificent and dominant male?

You should be well enough aware of that particular feminine role.

Of course we ought to be used for martyred of other purposes.

To disguise scale footprint and the audience you've carried.

Not an advisable procedure, especially in hot weather, whatever they may think or do in India.

I hope, Charlotte, that we do not eat stale fish with elbate, but villa.

No sauce could disguise the staleness of the fish at elbate villa, mother-in-law.

The fresh fish pie which mother treats us to every fry is above redemption.

Oh, George.

I mean, to further you, George, in all matters, relation to the kitchen.

Yes, George might look rather well in a name.

George might look rather well in a name.

Mrs. Tom.

He'll just make a movie movie.

You dear Robert, for a most enjoyable excursion to the world of the West End.

Every day life awaits us all tomorrow. Good health.

Yes, very good.

Welcome.

What is it, mother?

It's your right.

It's your right for colour. Do something, Robert.

Oh, no, no, stop. Stop, cameo.

Where's the pain?

Oh, no. We're still here.

Charlotte, look at her!

Wait, wait.

There.

Oh, no.

Please.

What?

Look at her now!

She's choking it out!

She's choking it out!

Mother.

Mother.

The death of Aunt Harriet was a judgement on her and on his off.

The death of Mrs. Colard was an oyster.

Quite so.

Greed.

One oyster.

Rob.

I don't believe it.

I beg your pardon, young man.

You say step-grand died of an oyster.

I don't believe it.

She died the same way my father did.

Yes?

Food, wait a minute.

No.

She made the same noises.

She went the same ghastly colour.

She died the same painful death my father did.

But none of you know what really caused it.

You are very young and you know nothing of missing.

No of good manners, it appears.

There are superficial resemblances between Mrs. Colard's death

and that of Roger Vendivant.

But they are no more than superficial.

No.

No!

No!

Don't worry.

Don't worry.

Don't ask all you must help me.

My father didn't die of gastric fever.

Why did Porter insist on it?

He gave the certificate simply to oblige the old woman.

To avoid any scandal.

Could my father have been poisoned?

I don't know.

Possibly.

Not.

It could take a post-mortem to precisely the term and the cause of death.

But the symptoms are those of chronic poisoning.

Like this poison will come from.

Anyway, the average household contains enough poison for a hundred mothers.

Asonic who...

Don't ask all you could you come here.

Yes, slept since any food or any drink. Any drink?

Any drink?

Aaaahhh!

Aaaahhh!

Jenkins, what are you doing still working in this house?

Well, I don't know if you seem to all this, if I wasn't.

I mean it, you are to leave.

Thank you, Master Paul.

But I'll take my orders from those who are really in charge here.

Especially your friend, Mistress Isabel.

I've spoken to Isabel. She agrees with me.

If you're not going by tomorrow, I shall send for the police.

Well, I'll be getting myself all ready for them then.

One time.

George?

Yes, dear boy?

Is that all? Can I go home now?

Yes, yes. You trod on home.

I'll finish up here.

Sure.

And then I'll to the club for a great big drink.

What?

There's the work bearing one's mother.

But the funeral was only yesterday.

And you know what? I'm still thirsty.

George?

Bye.

So much for death, my dear Robert.

Now for marriage. Without delay.

We've had to just put her down. We can hardly get married tomorrow.

Much as I longed to.

It is not tomorrow.

Next week.

The family will still be in mourning.

Perhaps we should wait until the will is read.

My dear is, if you want to come out of probation and into the chair.

Well, I had to resign my poster as I was telling the sergeant here.

After becoming acquainted with the contents of these letters.

They were brought to my attention by my fiancé.

Who read one of them? Or by mistake?

And then read the rest of them, sir.

Thinking it to be her duty.

Duty?

Duty.

Well, they were special, see?

Well, because of the person, what wrote them?

And because of the person, what they was written to?

And what because of the filth? What was in them? They were special.

The filth?

Well, it's only because you're the police that I can even bring myself to talk about it.

I mean, I've not mentioned it to no one else apart from Charlie.

Charles.

Because I thought it was my duty.

I applaud your sense of delicacy, madam.

Well, when you've read them, sir, you'll see why they're so special.

And why I left Albert Villain with my fiancé.

That in many ways, the situation suited me well enough.

But, erm, after everything that's happened, sir,

it was no place for a respectable upper servant.

No place for respectable persons at all.

I'm very high-minded and public spirited of you, Mr. Jenkins.

Sergeant Davis, has your address?

Er, Lord James Ingrennett.

Very well then, Mr. Jenkins, Miss, erm...

Oh, Mrs. Jenkins, we'll serve from now on.

Well, both are credit to the proletariat of this great country, Sergeant.

Sir, madam.

My felicitations to you both.

I'm becoming one flesh.

Those Mrs. Isabelle collard, live here.

Bloody interfering little fool.

I told you to let me deal with Jenkins.

If at plenty of time, I thought it was what you wanted.

You said he'd have to leave soon in any case.

Oh, he's left all right. Before I could settle this business.

You threatened him, didn't you?

You threatened him with the police.

Well, that's just where he's gone, taking my letters with him and his accomplice hilda.

How do you know that's what they've got?

There's been a police constable here.

He says my letters will be returned to me in due course.

You know what that means?

It means they're going to read them first.

They were private letters.

Personal, do you understand?

No, not really.

You understand nothing, do you?

You come at all high and mighty with the servants,

and you understand nothing at all.

All I ever wanted for was those letters back.

Because they were love letters.

Love letters ripped from the heart.

Love letters to your father.

I've had a very interesting letter, sir.

From a certain doctor's household.

They form a colleague.

Yes, and now a frying barnet.

Quite.

He's heard of almost his collage death,

and purports to be concerned,

and that it's similarity to that of Roger von de Vons.

He hints at Mr. Arbnosa, in one case,

or the other, or both.

Obviously, I was satisfied, Inspector.

Otherwise, I should not have signed the death certificates.

No, you would, sir.

Silly me.

How often do I have to repeat this?

Mrs. Colard and Mr. Vandivert both died of unrelated gastric complications.

Call the court is similar if you are foolish enough to do so.

Time will show which of us is being foolish.

Doctor.

You're all we're ready to give evidence of the trial, sir.

A murder trial.

Congratulations.

I hope you'll be very happy.

Congratulations.

I hope you'll be very happy.

Thank you, early.

Deploy yourself, Constable.

Congratulations.

I hope you'll be very happy.

Thank you.

Thank you, early.

Deploy yourself, Constable.

Inspector Tittmarsh Maron, and detective Sergeant Davis.

I hope you brought my letters back.

They are of great sentimental value, Inspector, and a...

strictly private.

So, Mr. Jenkins suggested.

How vexatious for you, Mrs. Colard, that the maid, Ilder, should have come on them in that unlikely fashion.

All that matters is that I should now have them back.

They are, after all, my property.

You must excuse me, Mrs. Colard. They are the property of the person to whom they was written.

But since that person is dead.

I'm sorry, sweet.

What's going on, Ilder?

Dabble and all his works.

But it seems so better perfectly come on this issue.

I don't think mother would care to have seen policemen walking on the crooked wall.

Policemen? Why are they talking to us about?

Thank you.

So you trace the letters for Mrs. Colard, Mr. Vendivon?

Vandivon. Yes.

And do you know why she's so anxious to have them back?

Yes, but I cannot discuss Mrs. Colard's private affairs.

You care a great deal for her, don't you?

More than as usual for a step-up.

That Inspector Tippmarsh is none of your business, and I resent your implication.

I knew nothing of Mrs. Colard and my father, until after he was dead.

How did he die, Mr. Vendivon?

Some have said he could be poisoned.

What do you think?

Mr. and Mrs. Robert Dangerfield.

I don't believe it.

Praise me.

My, my, Charlotte.

You look like the cat that scoffed the cream.

Congratulations.

I suppose your mutual order was so overwhelming, you just couldn't wait.

Why is such interest in the grasp of the croquet lawn, Sergeant?

The mall has served. Were they poisoning the malls, and if they did, well, there'd be plenty of poisoning alone in case anybody needed it.

And was the poison in the lawn?

No, sir.

He flapped in the mud with a speening.

Such a good conscientious boy, Sergeant.

Rather like yourself, though not well.

I never fancied my father's women, did I, sir?

Did you not?

That's what the stoversions were common in Wales.

To our muttons.

No poison in the croquet lawn means no poison in a potting shed.

But poison that may well be in all this.

No poison.

Four pounds, fifteen, five pounds.

Ten pounds, Mr. Dang.

I told you the old man would come for...

She's certainly in high season.

Champion!

Oh, now, there.

When I keep the governor happy, gentlemen, the toast.

There's to an old maid with money, and an old widow woman in that coffin.

Here's to marriage and death!

Marriage and death!

Yes, on with it.

I've been going to use some perusing a list of our integers, and support the crews.

Ah!

If I were you, Sergeant Davis, I'd pop over and see that slimy old stoke molly.

He's likely to be the first port of call for any potential purchaser of poison in this parish.

Yes, sir.

Please may I see the records of the poisons that you saw recently?

It's no business you ought to put people in that line.

As a member of the public, I have a right to...

No, you don't.

What's it going to cost, morning?

Ah, well, let me see.

Hang.

Sergeant Davis.

Detective Sergeant, you molly.

Poison's book.

Popular today, innit?

What do you want with this, Sergeant? Bravo, Jim, you tell him.

Don't mess me about, boy.

Everything duly accounted for down at the last drop of Lordnam to go in the tea down at the station.

I'll stop you, Lockett, in all need.

Do you remember who purchased this item?

Ah, yes. It was a lady.

And I mean lady. Not the thought I'd get in here often.

Fairly tall, discreet, two-piece costume.

Very distinctive, grey-swade boots.

Voice low, quiet. What I call cultivating, not like your local lot.

Fair here, black veil, similar to what's worn by the young princesses.

And the face beneath it.

Aah, snake.

Three ounces for domestic use.

Week or so you recall before the death of your father?

Signed Isabelle Collard.

The

Tetris, what on earth do you think you're doing?

Why are you not in mourning?

Go upstairs and change immediately.

For a minute I thought I heard a voice from the grave.

Bossing, bullying, spoiling any fun I might manage to have.

Control yourself.

If you go on like this, everyone will think that...

What will everyone think?

Well, that you hated Rogers so much you murdered him.

What?

Yes, the police might, if you defy a convention so soon after the death of your husband and your mother.

You defied convention by marrying so soon after the death of your mother.

No one can say we flouted it with extraordinary ceremony.

Rather extraordinary circumstances though, murdered than matrimony.

It has yet to be ascertained that Roger was murdered by anybody.

Or Harriet for that matter.

You would have wished to murder Mother.

Well, she stood in the way of all of us like a huge black spider.

Mother's death may slow up your escape from this house, my dear.

But during her life you would never have been allowed as far as Clapton.

Mother's death offers something for everyone.

Sergeant, if you were planning to poison someone, would you really sign your own name for the poison?

Very likely, sir.

Pretend it was all about board for domestic use as Molly's book said.

I can see you, Byron, either, we think.

For domestic use, meaning for use in the home.

For ridding it of bipedal pests.

Little over ingenious, sir.

Not many murderers busy buying poison would bother to make ironic jokes about their intentions which they are trying to disguise.

Cobbler, Sergeant.

For greatness, murderers in life and literature are full of little jokes about their crimes.

Richard III.

Amlet.

So, Mr. Bentavan, where are we now, eh?

You, Mummy, sir, will you?

And confirm certain propositions I shall put onto you.

One!

Molly's evidence strongly suggests it was Isabelle Collard, what purchased arsenic off of him a few weeks ago as noted in the poisons book.

Yes or no, Mr. Bentavan.

You heard Molly?

We also observed, though only in the margin for the present, that she may well have been nervous.

Lest the old woman, Aria Collard, should get whiff of her naughty secret.

The aforesaid Ariad.

Have an along pointed nose.

The patience of a truffling pig.

And all the leisure in the world to get whiff of the most succulent and poisonous of truffles only semi-insestuous ular among her friends and relations.

Yes or no, Mr. Bentavan.

Yes, but now you answer me this.

Have you the smallest piece of actual or tangible proof?

That my father or my step-grandmother was poisoned, whether it be by arsenic or any other means, from Molly's dispensary or a witch doctor in Timbuktu.

Yes or no, Inspector.

No, Mr. Bentavan.

So what we do is this.

Me and the sergeant here, we fettle our fine shanks and take a cab at the expense of the force and crave all the answer to the stypendary.

But will issue us with two chitties. One a search warrant for the villa, the other, an order of exhumation.

Then, Mr. Van de Bent, open, says ami.

Open, says ami. You get it?

The one wasted here, Sergeant.

Are you sure, sir?

The differential point to me is an unjust steward. No stone unturned. Do your duty constable?

And to further be pleased to my loyal servant and butler, Charles Jenkins, the sum of 15 eneas.

And to my dutiful step-nephew, Paul Van de Bent, 500 gold sovereigns.

As for my shares in the firm of Collard and Van de Bent, I divide these equally between my children, George, Charlotte and Beatrice.

Do we possess of them, buy and for themselves, and in no way to be considered the joint property of their spouses, if any are.

And finally, I leave my house and its adjacent land, divided equally among my three children, George, Beatrice and Charlotte.

My nephew, Bertram Williams, shall be allowed to reside in it for the rest of his natural life.

Is that it, Mr. Humberdink?

Yes.

Good.

Well, there we are, my dearest Robert.

Oh, yes. An eternity of that sanctimonious, Bertie Williams bleeding away like a death's head.

Fribilous and the complaints. We shall have a free roof over our heads, a free floor on our feet.

A part of course from the raves, some of which we can equitably claim from Bertram.

On his salary, we'd have more chance of screwing cash out of a dead parsie.

You should be delighted, Paul.

I have no interest in this blood money.

Oh, fuck it, him. 500 gold sobs for a glorified office boy. I might have expected ten times as much, but then I'm only a grown experienced man.

I'm only a mature, married man. Has to run big into his wife for every penny.

I seem to remember she was very generous with you in the days after her wedding.

Pocket money. I'm talking about serious capital sums.

I had, of course, hoped for a little something. Haven't we all?

But having inherited a share of this venerable house...

I inherited the share.

I feel a far closer member of this family.

Yes? Adam, are you Isabelle Colard?

You know very well that I am.

Then Isabelle Colard, I have a warrant for your arrest.

On the grounds that you did unlawfully and maliciously administer poison to one Roger Van de Vint with intent to cause his death.

One moment, please.

Let her go.

No, this is wrong. This is horrible.

The accusations are false. You must believe me.

I'm innocent. I swear it on my life.

You must believe me. I'm innocent.

Jacob's before herself.

Because he wants trade.

James Dell is.

James

Mr.

All right.

You