All language subtitles for Father Brown S03E05 The Last Man.DVDRip.NonHI.en.BBC

Well played, Captain.

Well done, brother.

Congratulations.

Bravo, bravo.

Nice one, old man.

A gentleman and a player.

Hear, hear.

Are you all right, Vince?

You done the old man proud.

Shall I say a prayer?

Nice try, Brown, but
as a devout atheist,

I think my brother would
prefer to be remembered

- with this.
- Oh, yes.

Chateau La Pointe.

One of his last two bottles.
It seemed a fitting occasion.

- Mm.
- Indeed.

Wish me luck?

He'd be turning in his grave if
he could see the state of the team.

No captain. Chairman AWOL.

Monty's in the Commonwealth
with Her Majesty.

I did some wicket keeping
in my seminary days.

Perhaps you could
step in for your husband.

Whip them all into shape.

She's a woman!

Commendable powers
of observation, Major.

Women don't know
anything about cricket.

Actually, I'm not
completely clueless.

Hear, hear. That's
settled, then.

You're in charge.

Bloody lunacy.

Howzat!

I've just been
admiring the ground.

Although I'm curious,
Professor Milton,

as to why it says Hambleston
CC above the pavilion?

These acres were once
the site of a boundary dispute

between Lord Hambleston
and the Earl of Montague.

Generations of infighting.

All got frightfully tedious so they
reached a gentlemen's agreement.

An annual cricket match,

with the winning side claiming
ownership for the following year.

Over time, it became
this ground here.

It's our local derby.
Fiercely fought.

And a week tomorrow.

All prepared, milady?

I'm afraid you have
me at a disadvantage.

Max Scullion. Your new neighbor.

Oh, of course.

Geordie Hambleston's yet another
victim of Mr. Atlee's death duties.

Mr. Scullion is the
new owner of the estate.

- You must dine with me next week.
- It would be my pleasure.

Welcome to Kembleford.

Thank you. Although we are
technically on Hambleston soil.

Nine years in a row to be exact.

Are you a cricketer?

Don't know one end of a bat
from the other but I like a challenge,

and my team's
coming together nicely.

Which is more than
can be said for yours.

All right, is this it?

Fred Pebble's out
with a gammy leg.

Vince Lennon?

Said he'd be along.

If he's got time.

Which means
we're only eight men.

Um... If you're
looking for volunteers,

I'm told I was quite a
handy leg break in my youth.

Well... Thank you, Father.

It seems we face an uphill task.

Forgive the intrusion. Raj
Chandraty, Dr. Fairfax's locum.

Oh, of course.

Mrs. McCarthy informs me
you are looking for players.

Oh, yeah. Well, your arrival
couldn't be more timely.

No, no. Wait just a minute.

Shouldn't we be discussing amongst
ourselves whether he's suitable?

I assume you wouldn't
be here if not a player.

I was an amateur for
the Jaipur Maharajas.

Before that, captain of the
University of Calcutta 11.

And we short a captain.
How very propitious.

Steady on. Uh, surely there's
someone more officer material.

Well, like this fellow here?

I second Lady
Felicia's proposal.

- Welcome on board, Doctor.
- Hear, hear! Welcome, Doctor.

I've a feeling we'll
be needing you.

This is Major Peter
Wallander, club secretary.

Hmm. How do you do?

You're late. The meeting's over.

Then, do you need
any odd jobs doing?

You're sacked.

And if I catch you sniffing
round my house again,

I'll knock you to hell and back.

I think you have an audience.

Morning.

This is Vince Lennon.

Demon fast bowler and our best
hope of victory against Hambleston.

Vince, this is your new captain.

They made the punkha
wallah team captain?

I bet you that went down
well with Major Blimp.

Watch your mouth, Lennon,

unless you want to find
yourself in more trouble.

No offence intended.
See you around, Doc.

Come out, come
out, wherever you are.

And I think three
dozen of my scones.

We don't want to run
out like we did last year.

Or the year before that.

Holy Mother of God!

Amen.

Get this to the lab,
please, Sergeant.

Yes, sir.

I was thinking the same thing.

Don't tell me.

I can now add telepathy
to your list of abilities?

That's an exit wound.
The body was turned over.

Curiously formal,
don't you think?

And then... they
washed his face.

I think I can draw my own
conclusions, thank you.

Do you happen to know
who his next of kin is?

Jane Milton.

Professor Milton is Vince
Lennon's next of kin?

I'm afraid so.

He was eight.

An evacuee from some godforsaken
slum where he'd never known

anything but abuse.

When his family were
killed in a bombing raid,

my brother and I adopted him.

That was very altruistic.

Humane.

Vince was...

Well, he was a
very damaged child.

Filthy and malnourished.
Almost feral at first.

We thought that with
enough time and love...

he could become a
valuable member of society.

That nurture could triumph
over nature and that...

love could conquer all.

Your brother, he took
his own life last year.

Do... Do you mind me asking why?

The only one that can
answer that is Charles.

Do the police know
who was responsible?

Vince Lennon collected enemies
the way other people collect stamps.

So I expect it will be a while before
they work their way through the list.

In the meantime, to be brutally
practical, we lost our fast bowler.

I'm hoping you or the Inspector
may provide a bit of pace.

- Are you something of an expert?
- Oh, gosh. Hardly.

Although I do have six older brothers
so something may have sunk in.

Sorry to interrupt.

I think there's something
you should see. Come on.

I suppose it's appropriate.

Although Vince would hate it.

Do you think they'd be shocked if I
laid him to rest in a bomber jacket?

I don't think you've ever
given a jot for convention.

If you're investigating, I should
tell you the police already searched

and found nothing.

Maybe they were
looking in the wrong place.

Missal.

Vince hasn't attended
Mass since he was 16.

I suppose it didn't help,
us both being atheists.

But we could hardly
deny him his birth religion.

Initials, dates,
amounts, £15, £15, £25.

These aren't odd jobs.

And this.

Blackmail?

Does it say who they are?

Only initials.

OM. PW. LB.

The payments from
OM stop a year ago.

You think one of them sent this?

Well, someone "settled the
matter" for once and for all.

Did you see that specialist?

Yes.

He said I'd outlive you.

We have to give
this to the police.

I suppose we must.

I sense a "but".

Even if one of them is the
murderer, what of the others?

The police will have to
track them down, poor souls.

And all those secrets laid bare.

Lives ruined.

I see you have some new players.

Local men, are they?

Australia. Cattlemen
hired to work on my estate.

I'm surprised to see you at
practice under the circumstances.

Victory is the offspring of
preparation and opportunity.

The murdered boy was
a member of our team.

- Like I said.
- Howzat!

Howzat.

Thank you, Doctor.

May I introduce our new
captain, Raj Chandraty?

Looks like I'm not the only
one with a foreigner on his team.

- See you at dinner tonight, milady.
- I look forward to it.

He doesn't have
cattle on his estate.

- I'm so glad you could come.
- It beats sitting at home moping.

And I confess my curiosity as
to what the opposition are up to.

- Ringers on the team indeed.
- Hmm.

It seems like a lot of effort
for a village cricket match.

- Is there a Mrs. Scullion?
- Three.

Scattered all round the
country. Bleeding me dry.

You been married long?

Two years.

I'd keep an eye
on her if I were you.

Are you thinking
what I'm thinking?

PW.

How's the investigation going?
Have you found the murder weapon?

We've only identified
the make as of yet.

Walther P38.

The country's awash
with ruddy war souvenirs.

I'm afraid I can't say.

Bit of a blow, losing
your star player.

I'm sure our new captain
will make up the deficit.

- May the best side win.
- Mm-hmm.

I'm surprised you're all so casual
about your tenth defeat in a row.

You don't know?

Know what?

I suggest you take a look at
the original articles of 1783.

Should either side be victor
for ten successive years,

they claim ownership
of the land in perpetuity.

- Did you know about this?
- No, I didn't.

But the ground's been shared
by both villages for centuries.

It's a gentlemen's agreement.

In that case, I'm glad
I'm not a gentleman.

Shall I bring my sewing
basket and join you?

I prefer my own company.

Is that why you slept in
your dressing room last night?

I didn't want to
intrude on your grief.

For the umpteenth time there was
nothing between me and Vince Lennon.

Why won't you believe me?

I prefer the evidence
of my own eyes.

Talking. You saw us talking.

It didn't look like you were
discussing the windows.

What exactly were
you talking about?

His money.

He said he was
five shillings short.

Little Bear misses Daddy Bear.

Good morning.

Good morning, Father.
I'll fetch us some tea.

No prizes for guessing
why you're here. Eh.

What? This is what happens when
you put a woman and a darkie in charge.

If Scullion thinks we are
going to take this lying down...

I'm here about Vince.

If you want me to go to the
funeral you're wasting your breath.

He was a blackmailer.

Doesn't surprise me.
Crooked as a dog's hind leg.

He identified one of his
victims by the initials PW.

If you think that low
life would extort money,

well, I'd have knocked
him to hell and back first.

So you said, the
day he was murdered.

Oh, I didn't kill him.
Although I wish I had.

He was sniffing around my wife.

I see.

How long had Vince
been blackmailing you?

Does my husband know?

No. And I won't tell him.

Or anything else you tell me.

How did you find out?

He referred to one of his
victims as LB. Little Bear?

It's what Peter calls me.

At least, he used to.

Vince liked to mimic...

He was vile and I'm
glad he's dead. At least...

Your secret is safe?

"Kept woman" sounds so much
better than whore, don't you think?

My first husband...

died in the war.

And I was all but destitute when

a gentleman
offered me a lifeline.

What price virtue?

Well, in my case, a flat in Maida
Vale, a quarterly allowance...

and the loss of
all self-respect.

Peter had no idea.

He rescued me.

He gave me everything
I've ever wanted.

Security, respectability,

and above all...
unconditional love.

In which case, if you confess,

he will be able to forgive you.

And the proudest
and the most stubborn.

Ah.

He'd never be able
to forgive such deceit.

He'd leave me.

And then my heart would break.

Sir, I took a telephone call with
information on the Lennon murder.

- What kind of information?
- The anonymous kind.

Go on.

"Why don't you find
out what the good doctor

was burying in his
garden on Thursday night?

That's what happens
when you let... his sort..."

Yes, Sergeant. Thank you.

I think I get the gist.

Have you handed in that book?

I've just come from
the police station.

And you've been
sleuthing, so spill the beans.

Is PW Peter Wallander?

No.

But you've found out something.

I think the initials
refer to nicknames.

Vince was fond of his nicknames.

The crueler the better, usually.

Yes.

So, if PW isn't
Peter Wallander...

I think I can make
an educated guess.

If you think I killed
him, you are mistaken.

I'm a physician. I took an oath
to save lives. Not take them.

You still haven't
answered my question.

With respect, that's
a private matter.

Well, if the police make
the same deduction,

it will no longer
be a private matter.

For another's sake, I can
only pray that won't happen.

An affair of the heart?

You mistake me
for a man of honor.

Yet I breached the
sacred bonds of marriage.

I disgraced myself.

Betrayed my gods.

I said search, not
destroy, Sergeant.

Am I allowed to ask
what you're looking for?

I can't say. I'm sorry.

Sir.

I have never seen
that before in my life.

So, I followed
them back into town.

Back, as in back
to the Red Lion?

Guilty as charged, Mrs. M.

There you are, Father. There's
been a development. Carry on, Sid.

Right.

Turns out they're surveyors
for the Ministry of Transport.

Scullion is selling off his
land for a dual carriageway.

The blaggard!

The only spanner in the works is
the five acres of land he doesn't own.

- Yet.
- The cricket ground.

Mm-hmm.

He has got an absolute fortune
riding on that match tomorrow.

And with Vince gone our
only hope is the good doctor.

Vince Lennon was a blackmailer.

We believe he was lured to
his death by one of his victims.

I have to ask, was
he blackmailing you?

Yes.

Why?

I give you my word
it isn't relevant.

This is a murder investigation.
I'll need more than that.

It involves a third party.

Then, do you have an alibi
for the night of the murder?

No.

- Not now.
- From Father Brown, sir.

You may want to see this.

I'm halting the
interview for a tea break.

White, no sugar, and
one for the prisoner.

Yes, sir.

Can I speak to
you off the record?

It seems Max Scullion
has a deal worth a fortune

resting on that match tomorrow.

Which makes the
discovery of the gun...

and the arrest of the
opposition captain very timely.

You think this was
Scullion's work?

I'd stake my job on it.

But until we get the
ballistics back on that gun

and unless you can give me
an alibi for the night in question...

I'll have no choice but
to place you under arrest.

An Indian and a white woman.

One whiff of association
and she would lose everything.

Husband, home, children.

She'll be cast out,
a social pariah.

I have disgraced
her enough already.

So, let's get this right,
if we lose this match,

he builds a ruddy great road

right through the middle
of our cricket ground?

My lawyer says that though ancient,
the clause is watertight and binding.

Then we're doomed.

Nine men, star player murdered,

captain banged
up in a prison cell.

No-one blames you, Inspector.
This is Scullion's work. Right.

I do.

Sid's opening the bowling.
Sergeant Goodfellow in square leg.

Bill, I've put you in first
slip. Not too much running.

Inspector. Wicket keeper.

I'll be requiring you
to step up as captain.

It would be an honor.

Father Brown is... is well
out of harm's way as possible.

And I've put Monty on the list

because he's here in spirit.

A penny for your thoughts?

They're hardly edifying.

I'm wishing I believed in hell.

If only so Max Scullion can
burn in a pit of boiling oil...

or roasting on a spit surrounded
by pitchforked demons.

How wonderfully medieval.

I expect you'd
prefer to redeem him.

Can you hold up? I think
I've got a stone in my shoe.

Always.

Hell is merely the
absence of God.

I wouldn't wish it on
my own worst enemy.

I'm glad Charles isn't
here to see all this.

He loved that ground.

It would break his heart.

Now what are you doing?

That's Vince's scarf.

Good luck, chaps.
May the best team win.

Play.

Where is Father Brown? We
can't afford to lose another player.

Maybe he was called
away to a parish emergency?

Should we send
someone to look for him?

No!

That's two. Well done.

That's our captain!

- The Lord will provide.
- Sid.

Catch it.

You were saying.

- Could be worse.
- How?

We've got 196 runs to make
and we're down to eight men.

Well played, darling.

Thank you, Constable.

I'll explain on the way.

Afternoon.

I see you've lost
another captain.

Thanks to you. We all
know who planted that gun.

That's quite an accusation. I
trust you have a good lawyer.

God will be our judge.

The evil will fall
down before the good,

and the wicked before
the gates of the just.

You forget, we have
the Lord on our side.

Hah.

Catch it! Yeah.

Well caught. Well bowled.

Bad luck, old man.

In all honesty, I
can't say well played.

But you did your level best.

Thank you.

I think.

Not so glum.

There's still hope the Inspector
will spring our captain from jail.

Finding the real murder weapon
was nothing short of a miracle.

You don't believe in miracles.

Oh, the old stone
in the shoe trick?

With our last hope of winning
the match languishing in jail

on a trumped-up murder charge,
I didn't have time to be subtle.

Why didn't you tell me Vince
was blackmailing Charles?

Ah. You know that.

"Old Man".

Vince's nickname for him.

And the payments from OM
stopped shortly before he died.

I hoped it wouldn't come out.

Charles was a
very private person

whose only secret was
that he loved other men.

He knew Vince
would never let him go.

And anyone he associated
with would be at risk.

Faced with living
his life as a lie...

he chose death.

It was all so
tragically unnecessary.

Is that why you murdered Vince?

That is categorically
not why I murdered him.

That's our last man gone.

Bad luck, Goodfellow.

It seems like
you're out of players.

Not quite, Mr. Scullion.

Well, that's
something, at least.

Don't change the subject.

I forgave Vince
for Charles' suicide.

For the first time he
seemed genuinely repentant

for the effects of his actions.

Shot.

And I confess to
an element of pride.

I wanted to believe he
was sorry because it...

- Wait.
- It would've meant we hadn't failed.

And we both know
what follows pride.

He was back up to
his old tricks in weeks.

I saw the fear in their eyes.

The way people crossed
the street to avoid him.

You could have
reported him to the police.

Vince didn't fear the
law, man or God's.

- So...
- Go on. There's two there.

You wrote the note that
lured him to the pavilion.

Then you killed your son.

As your God sacrificed his...

so that others may live.

And you laid out his body.

I couldn't leave him like that.

He hated sleeping on his front.

Yes!

Always on his back,

arms by his side,
ramrod straight.

That was very foolhardy.

Zero for two.

The Grim Reaper will get me
before the long arm of the law.

Dodgy ticker.

Weeks at best, if I
took their wretched pills

and of course I stopped
when I decided to kill Vince.

I'm already on borrowed time.

Run, Major, run, run, run.

Oh, God.

- Unlucky, Major.
- Well played, Major.

Unlucky.

Looks like it's down
to you, Captain.

Why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want to
spend our final days

with you trying to save my soul.

Oh, well done, Captain!

Bit wobbly.

Don't even think
about calling the doctor.

It's for the best.

My only fear was
dying in a prison cell.

I know you can't
endorse what I did.

But as my most valued friend,
I hope you can understand.

Vince was a rotten apple...

who would have
contaminated a whole barrel.

Wreaking evil. And
destroying lives.

I acted for the most
unselfish of reasons...

because he was my child...

- and I loved him.
- Good hit!

Three balls left. Six runs
to win. I hope you're...

- Oh, yes.
- Jolly good, Mrs. M.

No!

Yeah, now he's out.

- Boys, boys, get the stretcher.
- Oh, gosh.

Quickly.

That's that, then.

I don't want you getting
all maudlin on me.

My affairs are in order.

I've lodged a full
confession with my solicitor

to be handed to the
police on my death.

And I've left you my
last bottle of La Pointe.

Oh.

Not for sharing, mind.

I trust you to find the
appropriate occasion.

I'm rather more concerned with
your spiritual than your earthly affairs.

It's a bit late for that.

Everyone is redeemable.

- Even me?
- Especially you.

And until your last
breath, it is not too late...

to let him in.

Please tell me this isn't a
last ditch attempt at conversion.

Can't blame a chap for trying.

All right, Doctor, come on.

Well, the match is won, milady.

Two balls left. Six
runs to win the match.

And you are out of players.
You only had ten men.

Victory is mine.

You are premature,
Mr. Scullion. We have a last man.

I don't see him.

You're looking at her.

Do you even know
how to play cricket?

Six brothers, Mrs. M.

I spent every summer of my childhood
being used for bowling practice.

Shoes?

I've no intention of
running anywhere.

Wow.

For the first time in my life

I'm experiencing
a frisson of doubt

in the irrationality of
believing in a higher being.

I've known more stubborn
atheists fall at the final hurdle.

Not that I'd tell you.

I wouldn't give
you the satisfaction.

Naturally.

Although, if that is the
case, I must warn you...

we will meet again.

Now there's a final
thought to hang on to.

You'd be bloody insufferable.

My heart is poured
out like water.

My bones are scattered.

And my heart,

like wax, is melted.

- Pub, lads?
- Yes!

Shall I get Father
Brown and the professor?

They'll be along in
their own good time.

There's something I
have to tell you, Peter.

Yes, I know. And if you
have a modicum of respect,

you'll spare me
the gory details.

I wasn't unfaithful.
I couldn't be.

You're the best, the most wonderful
thing that's ever happened to me.

And if you think I'd
sully that with anyone,

let alone the likes
of Vince Lennon...

I saw you together.

- He was blackmailing me.
- Huh?

Our marriage is based on a lie.

When we met,

you assumed I was
a respectable woman

and I'm not who you think I am.

We met in the bar
of the King George.

I was never under any
illusion that you... had a past.

Then why?

Even from the start you
always treated me like a lady.

Because you were.

And are... a lady.

And about bloody time.

Peter, language.

My final duty as Captain is to
make the "Man of The Match" award

- to Lady Felicia.
- Oh.

Oh, thank you. It was
a lucky shot. Thank you.

I hear you're leaving us.

Yes, for a position in
Wales. It's for the best.

Goodbye, Doctor.

You, sir, are a
gentleman and a player.

Now, there is a celebration
tea laid on in the pavilion.

So, if the man of the match
would like to lead the way.

I'd be honored, Mrs. McCarthy.

You coming in, Father?

Soon.

First, I have an appointment
with a rather fine La Pointe.