Original subtitles

How dark seems the night,

when we comprehend the dangers therein.

More fear!

- And how small and alone is man,

when at the mercy of a ravenous beast!

Will this great and terrible bear tear apart...

Well, keep going!

- Tear apart my very soul... Honestly?

- Look, is this the best we can do,

great and terrible bear-wise?

On our budget, yes.

- She's trying to make me wear a dress.

- It's a to... It's a toga. - You'll look heroic, darling.

- Look, just take your position behind the boulder.

What if I'm on the boulder?

This is my scene.

It won't be a soliloquy with him

- preening himself on a rock. - "Preening"?

- Just stand behind the boulder if you please.

Right, from the top!

- How dark seems the night...

- Sorry. Um, just need a minute

to set up the great and terrible bear again.

Refreshments incoming!

Oh, don't bother, Derek.

Apparently it's time for another break.

Tea drinking,

about the only thing you lot do with any conviction.

- Just popping out for more yellow.

Thought the back cloth needed a jolly sun in the sky.

- "The Cursed Arrow" is a tragedy, Miss Thimble.

- But you said "a child sky over desolate heath."

- A wild sky, Dottie, and the playwright said it.

- Well, I suppose that makes sense.

- One wild sky coming up. - Sir.

- I brought it straight over, sir. - Aha!

Well, the regional arts fund are offering a very generous grant

for "most promising cultural endeavour."

- I don't quite follow, sir. Is this a police...

- What? - Is it a police matter?

- No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

And the grant committee...

The grant committee will be

coming to our first performance.

Ooh!

Yes, our beg-borrow-and-steal years will soon be over!

Stay and give us your critique on act one.

- No, sir, I can't. I'm a bit busy at the moment.

Right.

Pressure's on, company... Deliver a cracking performance

and we'll take the sad out of G-SADS once and for all!

- Tis true I neglect my manly duties

and allow my womenfolk to pine,

but can any mortal resist

the lure of the ultimate prize?

More pathos, less panto.

And where are the lights?

This is a serious drama, not burlesque!

Or a Nazi interrogation.

I'm coming up.

- We're coming through. Come on, chaps!

- Convent cast-offs!

Should get a few togas out of this lot.

- Perfect. - Wish I could help more, but...

- Oh, you're on. - Oh.

- It's basically a semi-circle with a flat bit at the bottom,

one size fits all.

You are a godsend, Sister.

Oh! Godsend.

- Ambrose Chance must be spinning in his grave.

- Ah, yes, the esteemed playwright.

Great Slaughter's most famous son.

Some might say second most famous,

after Monty the albino shire horse, but let's not dwell.

I hope this will pass muster.

It's... magnificent.

- I think a round of applause is in order.

- Positions, company! From Mateo's entrance.

Who this way comes?

Tis Mateo, a huntsman.

- See how he sharpens his arrows,

unaware this innocent quiver will seal his fate.

- Tis true I neglect my manly duties

and allow my womenfolk to pine,

but can any mortal resist the lure of the ultimate prize,

a creature so white it must have been hewn from moonlight.

- Pick them up and carry on, man!

Shoot me, darling.

Oh.

Ah, someone has returned.

- How are you, my brave soldier?

- No. - You gave us quite a fright.

- Steady. - No, no, no, it can't be.

Where are you going?

The artistic temperament, eh?

- Now where's he going? - I think he needed some air.

- And I need a large whiskey, but we've got a play to put on.

- Might be time to call it a day, Chief Constable.

Excuse me. Thank you.

I'm going in there. Thank you!

Excellent. Bow and arrow?

Perfect. Stag runs into clearing?

Needs work.

Right, knife into flesh?

Ooh, marvellous!

And finally, a roaring fire?

Jolly well done, old chap!

Right then, Derek, let's get this on, shall we?

We have to raise our game.

The smell should fade.

I really don't want to.

Pull your finger out, man,

- and remember what I taught you. - But...

- We've been in worse predicaments than this before

and come out victorious.

Alright, I'll do it.

- Excellent. Company, gather ye round.

Now, we come to the technically most demanding scene.

Callista stabs Mateo

in a tragic moment of bloody vengeance.

Positions!

- Please, I just wish you would tell me what's going on.

- Just leave it. Trust me, you don't want to know.

- Come on, please. - Lights!

- I come to you in spirit form to offer you a choice.

Admit it was your arrow that slayed me, or feel my vengeance.

- I take my orders not from she-demons,

but from mortal men.

Line!

Thank you, Tom.

What's done cannot be undone.

Then your fate is sealed!

Aah!

- Oh, come on, man, you look like you're waiting for a bus.

Aaah, my life ebbs away.

Is this guilt pouring from my veins?

Eee gods, lights!

Lewis, Lewis. Thank you.

Lewis, far be it from me

to put pressure on an actor,

but imagine the entire future of G-SADS,

the... the hopes and dreams of a community,

rest on your performance.

Yes? Good. I'll call an early lunch.

You can run your lines with Myrna.

Oh, a-a-a-and listen...

do it for her.

Do it for Ambrose.

Do it for the Loch Ness monster for all I care,

just don't step on this stage

till you are ready to give us some drama.

- I rue the day I convinced Ambrose's widow

to let us have that play.

It should have stayed in the drawer where she found it.

It was rather a coup, though, Vera.

His only unperformed work.

- Maybe it was never performed because it's so terrible.

- Wait! Let me explain! It's not what you think!

- It seems "The Cursed Arrow" is cursed in more ways than one.

We have a problem.

- Just add feuding thespians to our list of woes

and we shall soldier on in true G-SADS spirit.

No, an even bigger problem.

BAPs.

Ah.

- Crack yer head in a paper bag. BAPs!

Barnsford Amateur Players.

- Oh, dear. - Oh, dear with tights on.

They're doing "King Lear."

First performance on Saturday.

- Are they after the grant money?

Is Roger Farnaby a Scotsman?

Is he a Scotsman?

- No idea. All I know is he's Hector's nemesis.

So I expect complete focus,

which means leaving your egos

and petty squabbles at the stage door, understood?

Now, the death scene is our ace in the hole,

so please, let us make it convincing.

- That won't be a problem. - Good. Right.

Greek chorus, to your places. We'll run from page 48.

- But soft, what messenger from the netherworld approaches?

- She who was wronged has returned for vengeance.

- Mateo, I come to you in spirit form to offer you a choice.

Admit it was your arrow that slayed me, or feel my vengeance.

- I take my orders not from she-demons, but from mortal men.

What's done cannot be undone.

Then your fate is sealed!

Oh, eureka!

My very life ebbs away.

His very life ebbs away!

Is this guilt pouring from his veins?

- Lewis! - Cut! Bravo!

Well done, Lewis. Best performance so far.

More corn syrup in the blood, perhaps?

- Right you are. - Right, let's go again and die

inside the spotlight this time, please.

- Oh, my. Someone call an ambulance!

Very little blood loss,

which would suggest the blade penetrated straight to the heart

or possibly the aortic root,

resulting in more or less instant death.

- Is that glue? - Apparently so, yes.

Mass-produced prop dagger that's been tampered with.

By Myrna?

- She's adamant she's never seen it before.

- I'm not sure if this is relevant, but, Sister, remember

Lewis did have a strange turn yesterday.

- He collapsed on stage. - Oh, yes.

After seeing the backdrop for the first time.

How odd.

Button, search Lewis' lodgings, will you?

I'll see if our hapless killer can enlighten us.

On it, sir.

- I've been reading about this new American method acting.

I was so immersed in the moment, I had no idea

I had an actual deadly weapon in my hand.

- Apparently Lewis collapsed yesterday.

Do you know why?

- No. He wouldn't talk about it.

Then this morning he was in an odd mood.

Snippy, not himself at all.

- Is that why you two argued earlier today?

- I left my bobby pins in the dressing room,

went back to fetch them, and walked in on him and Hildy.

Take your time.

- I thought he was going to propose.

To me.

- That must have been quite a shock.

But I'd never have done anything to hurt him.

Lewis wasn't perfect, but I loved him.

I only agreed to be in this wretched play

so that we could be together.

- It was an expletive deleted bloodbath

he'll never unsee and no mistake.

- Right, okay. Thank you, Tom.

Um, if you remember anything else, please let me know.

Or anyone else that's on duty.

- Right, let's all get this place shipshape again

so we can crack on.

- Sir, might a hiatus be necessary,

you know, pending investigations?

- Where's your Blitz spirit, man?

What is "necessary" is a bucket of sawdust

and a can-do attitude, eh, Pargiter?

Well, uh...

- Although of course, G-SADS are now one man down.

Yes.

You'll do.

I will, of course, take Lewis' role,

and you will be our new Second Huntsman,

no audition required.

Congratulations, and well done.

No, no, sir. I can't.

Acting really is not my cup of tea.

- We'll have a one-to-one rehearsal

first thing in the morning.

And as your commanding officer, that's an order.

Good!

Onwards, company!

One spare, as requested.

I suppose it's not a "spare" anymore.

- What was your relationship like with Lewis?

- I know you two were... - Strictly no-strings.

Myrna was saving herself for marriage, bless her,

so Lewis had quite the itch.

It's a shame Myrna walked in when she did.

I know what I saw.

Why wouldn't they believe me?

My advice is stop fidgeting

till I've finished pinning this hem.

- Have you ever doubted yourself,

your memories, your sense of reality?

Don't feel guilty.

Let me take your mind off whatever it is

that's bothering you.

- Lewis? - Ah, we were, um...

- Stage blood. I was putting it up his toga.

- How could you? - No, no.

Maybe it's best she knows.

Then you and I can...

There is no you and I.

Myrna, wait!

Lewis!

He was acting really strange,

but he trotted after her like a lapdog,

so I went for a smoke.

For a whole hour?

- I was also prepping makeup, styling wigs, sewing costumes,

painting props, cleaning the toilets.

Welcome to Amateur Dramatics.

- Considering your, um, mutual scratching,

you don't seem too bothered by Lewis' death.

No, I'm not bothered.

I'm devastated,

but it wouldn't do to let Myrna see that, now would it?

- She's definitely more upset than she's letting on.

Who else is in the frame?

- Everyone who didn't spend the duration

of the lunch break in the foyer.

The thing is, they rehearsed before lunch

and the dagger was un-doctored,

so the perpetrator must have made the switch

between 12:00 and 1:00 p.m.

Captain Pargiter apparently always spends

his lunch breaks at home.

Derek was painting the boulder backstage.

And Hildy was mostly in the dressing room,

and, unfortunately for her,

Myrna's alibi is the murder victim's.

What about the dagger?

- Myrna always left it in the same place,

the props table in the wings, stage right.

- Um, may I? - No, I...

- Blunt sprung blade, retracts into the handle on impact.

Harmless and pretty foolproof, as you can see.

Our murder weapon, on the other hand,

tempered steel blade,

glued into position at the handle

using a fast-setting epoxy.

A simple adaptation that would nevertheless

have involved thought, planning, and manual dexterity.

And time.

- Well, depending on our perpetrator's skill,

I'd estimate 5 to 10 minutes to replace the blade

and wait for the glue to set.

Obviously not a permanent bond,

but strong enough for a fatal, single use.

Hmm. Any fingerprints?

Oh, yes, mostly bloody,

and nearly all, apart from the victim's, Myrna's.

- Hmm, our innocent proxy murderer.

- Lewis' diary from when he was a boy.

- Good work, Button. - Bravo!

This was on his bed.

He must have looked at it, traumatised, last night.

- "Ma doesn't believe me, but I know what I saw."

Hmm.

"There were two of them, bent over, digging.

I could see a lump.

They dragged it into the hole.

I think it was a dead body."

June 6, 1935.

- Are there any missing persons unaccounted from that time?

- Lowsley was a beat copper back in 1935.

Maybe he's got some intel.

And I know exactly where to find him.

- Kenny Buck, 18 when he went missing,

used to grub about Great Slaughter

with his ne'er-do-well pals, pilfering and pick-pocketing.

Can't remember much else

except that he was a right... royal headache.

- Perhaps a trawl of the police files

might yield some useful information?

- Rather you than me. - Will you excuse me, gents?

- We're throwing caution to the wind.

We're doing no such thing.

It's just been a very taxing day.

- At the risk of taxing you further,

um, might I ask you about your magnificent rendering

of the Plain of Aegis?

Oh, that.

I just read what it said in the play

and sploshed some paint around.

- It reminds me somewhat of a real place.

Ingleby Heath, in fact.

- Ah, yes. Now you come to mention it.

- Might it be possible to borrow a copy of the play

- until tomorrow? - Be my guest.

I'm the only cast member who's off-book,

as we say in the theatre.

- I shall take utmost care as I burn the midnight oil.

- Uh, tonight's dinner is kidney pie.

I'm afraid my purse wouldn't stretch to the steak.

- Don't be late. - Terribly sorry, Mrs. Clam,

but I shall be spending the evening

in the police records office.

- Extra helping for you then, Inspector Gillespie.

Mm.

Callista...

Callista raises the, um...

the what?

Callista raises...

Oh, gosh, is that the time?

I really should, um, just for a moment...

Hello, and welcome, Ambrose Chance,

to this special dead playwrights episode

of "Questions for Thespians."

First question, what's the real reason

"The Cursed Arrow" has been hidden in a drawer until now?

Oh, a strategist,

ladies and gentlemen. Let's try another.

If the Plain of Aegis on the backdrop is an actual place,

are the two huntsmen based on real...

Bonus point for this next question,

did you, Ambrose Chance, know local teenager Kenny Buck?

Wait! Buck... stag.

Um, does the white stag in the play represent...

- Sister? - Quickest on the buzzer

for a bonus point!

- I'm sorry? - Oh.

Oh, my.

I think I've just had my own epiphany.

Anyway, yes, how did you get on?

- No epiphanies, but I did discover

that Kenny got himself mixed up

with a London gang called "The Magpies."

Um, he returned back to Great Slaughter

to look after his sick mother a few months

before he disappeared.

- Well, I'll wager that what 8-year-old

Lewis described in his diary was Kenny's final resting place.

Lewis was simply not believed and forgot about it until he saw

Miss Thimble's backdrop.

- And the next day, he ended up dead.

So these murders must be linked.

Let's share the news with Sam.

Right, you hop in the sidecar, we'll be there in a jiff.

- I can't, I have rehearsals with CC Lowsley

and I don't know my lines.

- Well, is just as well you have the dauntless Tom

Thomas as line prompt then.

Yeah, that's what I fear.

- So you think this play will lead us to Kenny Buck's body?

- Well, the play is about two huntsmen

who become obsessed with a white stag.

Okay, stag, buck. Go on.

- Well, they fire a brace of arrows at it,

but as the animal gasps its last breath,

it transforms into an innocent maiden.

Now you've lost me.

- The stag turned maiden could be a metaphor

for a blameless innocent, possibly a play on words,

chaste as in decorous, and chased as in hunted.

Either way, the huntsmen dispute over whose was the deadly arrow.

They quickly bury her and speak no more of their crime.

Given that the play was written in cathartic style,

- it would appear to be... - A confession?

Indeed.

- So we've got a dead suspect in Ambrose Chance,

but who's our other huntsman?

- Well, that, Inspector, is the ten-bonus-point question.

Ah, behold!

The mythical Plain of Aegis, if I'm not mistaken.

Right, yes, see the burial mounds, identical positions.

The standing stones and large boulder is still here.

There are the three pine trees, look.

So Little Lewis must have been standing here when he...

Wait...

That's Captain Pargiter's house.

More to the point, that's his land.

- I was about to leave for the theatre.

Whitcomb, would you get us some more coffee?

Thank you but no

I don't want to take up any precious rehearsal time.

- Yes, first performance tomorrow,

what with the grant committee and a full house,

the pressure is on somewhat.

Of course we're still reeling from the loss

of our leading man.

- I heard there was some friction between you two?

- Only the usual jovial thespian rivalry.

Tragic business, really.

- And, um, why did you go home for lunch yesterday?

Always do, anything to avoid

Mrs. Clam's mystery-meat sandwiches.

- Captain, might we have your permission

to excavate an area on Ingleby Heath?

Sounds ominous.

- Yes, we're re-opening the case

into the disappearance of Kenny Buck.

Buck...

Buck, yes, I remember.

Long time ago, though?

We have new information.

I see.

I met Kenny once or twice during my time

as patron of the church's Wayward Youth Project.

Seemed nice enough

fell in with the wrong crowd, obviously,

but then so did a lot of boys

who lost their fathers during the war.

And you think he's...

- We think it's a strong possibility, yes.

Poor lad.

One can't help but wish you don't find him out there.

- Do you remember anything else about the case, Captain?

- Nothing specific, lot of trouble

on the heath during those problem years.

Reported a few incidents myself, in fact.

Thank you.

Oh, you didn't know Ambrose Chance, did you?

- Not well, our paths crossed at functions and whatnot.

Why do you ask?

Just ticking boxes.

Is there any point digging deeper?

- The play's quite specific about a shallow grave;

the huntsmen buried the stag where it fell,

by the tree on the right.

- Let's take a break, boys. Regroup in ten.

Is there a reason

you're digging around outside of the cordon?

- Silly mistake, stage left and stage right are opposite.

A bullet. Hidden under three decades of bark.

- Lads, we've been digging under the wrong tree.

- Good dress rehearsal, everyone but more tears in the third act.

Tomorrow is the big day. Curtain up.

And I want each and every one of you here rested

and word perfect. Hildy?

I've got a wobbly rampart, stage right.

Be right there.

He's in high dudgeon. Or is it low.

One of the dudgeons anyway.

He's just discovered BAPS have a dramaturg.

- Oh. - Do you need any help, Myrna?

- I can do it, thank you. - Suit yourself.

This must not be easy for you?

- Sometimes I don't know how to put one foot

in front of the other.

But I'd rather keep busy.

- The truth will out, Myrna, be sure of that.

- Can't be easy for you either, stepping in at the last minute?

Any more costumes?

What kind of bird is that?

- I wish I knew, that'll teach me for getting drunk in Blackpool

on my 18th birthday.

- You can take this. - Thank you.

- Seems like we're running out of daylight and morale.

- And orange squash. No one likes the lemon.

- Are you sure we haven't missed something in the text?

No other coded meanings or hidden information?

Well, it's hard to know.

Classics, unlike viticulture, not being an exact science.

- Sir? - Finally.

Trowel please, Peggy?

- Sister. - Thank you.

One tibia.

What's this?

One pair of glasses.

And one mystery solved.

- You can't ascertain cause of death from this, can you?

- Well, there certainly isn't an arrow

conveniently protruding from his chest cavity but...

Oh! Aha!

A rifle bullet?

9 mm would be my guess,

though hard to say exactly given the degree of corrosion,

but I'll try to clean it up and get some more detail.

Morning Team, how are... ugh,

you never get used to some of these things on this job.

Quite so.

Derek has a tattoo of a bird.

A Magpie.

- Kenny's gang? - Are you sure?

- Well, the records show that Kenny here,

and Derek got a warning for getting into a fight

at a cinema a week before Kenny disappeared.

Top marks, Felix!

- I guess we'd better talk to our erstwhile Magpie.

- Alright, so I knocked about with that lot and yes,

I'll admit, there were bad blood between me and Kenny.

He had a gift of getting on the wrong side of people.

People like who?

Ambrose Chance?

- Ambrose wouldn't have wasted his time

- on a scrote like Kenny. - But you would?

- No, I gave up my gang proclivities decades ago,

thanks to the church and the Wayward Youth Project.

- So you must have known Captain Pargiter, back then?

Yes, Sir.

I was also in his regiment... Glorious Glosters.

Me and Kenny, sorry, Kenny and I,

used to do odd jobs around the estate.

And Ambrose and the Captain even let us

shoot the odd round of clay pigeons.

- Sorry, Ambrose Chance and Captain Pargiter

- knew each other? - Yes. They were friends.

Ambrose was an arse but he was great fun.

- Curtains up in an hour and a half.

Chief says you're to bring his cast and crew

back to the theatre PDQ.

- Fair enough, I need to interrogate

one of his leading men anyway.

Break a leg with that, Sir.

Had I known, had I known.

That at nightfall a great and terrible...

- Red Lorry, yellow lorry, red lorry, yellow lorry...

- La, la, la, la, la, la, la. La, la, la, la, la, la, la.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la. La, la, la, la, la, la, la.

- Red Lorry, yellow lorry, red lorry,

- yellow lorry... - Finally!

- What time d'you call this? - I'm sorry, Sir.

- Gillespie. Haven't you made enough disruption for one day?

This can't wait, I'm afraid.

- Gosh, it's like Laurel and Hardy round here!

- We found Kenny's body on his land,

he lied about knowing Ambrose Chance.

He was obviously trying to silence Lewis.

- Should I get Peggy to shut the house

- and send everybody home? - You'll do no such thing!

Look, that's the grant committee and you're not even in costume!

Skidaddle!

Do none of you people respect the sanctity of the theatre?

This couldn't wait.

I'm all ears, Sister.

- There's evidence of an entry wound

at the edge of Kenny's scapula.

Bone fragments from the sixth rib,

- where the bullet exited. - Meaning?

- Meaning, with a few trajectory calculations

I can say without doubt that Kenny was shot in the back.

As if he was running away. After all, Kenny was a Magpie.

I'd say that he was caught stealing...

- Pargiter's no murderer. - You can't deny he is a hunter.

- Yes, but where's your evidence?

You're holding it, Sir.

Five minutes till curtain up.

- Bring me a matching gun or a confession,

then you can take him.

- Fancy a trip to the Captain's gun cabinet?

Yes, please.

Right, places, everyone!

Make sure you nail that first line, Dottie.

- Will do. - Curtain, Derek.

- What's the line again? - Save us, Vera.

Welcome to this,

a warning rendered in words,

a carnival of souls.

Is this a tale of treachery, or of a man wronged?

Only the Gods know what smoke and mirrors we mortals weave.

Oh, oh...

What treasures and mysteries

abound within this sphere, to be but discovered

and conquered by a vigourous youth such as I!

- Hmm, the ethics of lock picking are somewhat complex.

- Can't you just say a few hail Marys?

- Unfortunately, the Lord doesn't operate on a buy

now pay later basis.

Bingo!

Yes!

Quite an arsenal.

- Couple of shot guns, but no rifle.

- Wait. Perhaps our murder weapon has been staring us

in the face this entire time.

Wrong calibre.

- Actually, it's what's missing that caught my eye.

See the photograph, and the empty scabbard?

The bayonet's been removed.

- Yes. And used to kill Lewis Garner.

- We should be able to get back for the interval.

- You'd better be bringing me a choc-ice, Gillespie,

and not another half-baked supposition?

- Pargiter is definitely our man.

- Can he please be our man, just till the end of the show?

He's a double murderer, Sir.

- Surely protocol would dictate... - Let me worry about protocol.

You worry about your lacklustre performance,

Livingstone.

Surround the theatre, you can take him

as soon as the curtain falls.

Depart.

- Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats,

the performance is about to continue.

- Let's hope this is fast and painless.

- What great adventures await us, on this...

Broccoli?

Bright day.

Oh. Bright day!

How lucky we are to have such...

Youth and purpose.

- Yawning purpose. - Youth and purpose!

- Youth and purpose! As we stride forth...

You've been called.

- You sure you're alright to do this?

The show must go on.

You're a trooper.

Myrna, you were always the one...

- I know. I'm doing this for him.

He'd be proud.

But don't do it for him. Do it for yourself.

Okay. Go on.

How dark seems the night,

when we comprehend the danger therein.

And how small and alone is man,

when at the mercy of a ravenous beast!

Had I known that at nightfall

a great and terrible bear

would tear apart my very soul.

- Hold your nerve, noble shepherd.

- Oh. Um... - Stop that Shepherd!

- It shall be the, um, the policeman with the handcuffs!

- Stop! - Hark? Is that thunder I hear?

- You have no proof! - We have all the proof we need.

- Grab him Felix! - Ah, you are mistaken Mateo.

Tis but the terrible bear after all.

Who knew his presence would be such sweet relief?

Get away from me Gillespie!

- Behold, what nightmarish visions

may befall the insubordinate mind.

- Sorry. - Friends!

Let us start anew!

From page 41.

- Rather let us, let us exit, being pursued by a bear.

Or rather pursuing, pursuing the bear.

- Methinks the second huntsman is, in all regards,

is in the wrong play.

Stop him!

- The Shepherd returneth to his flock

great be that the fates allow him to tend them

before the conclusion of our tale.

- Curtains for you, Shepherd. I mean, Captain.

- I supposed you're both very pleased with yourselves?

An arresting performance, Sir.

You shot a teenager in the back.

A boy, who you were supposed to be helping.

I did help Kenny,

and he repaid me by breaking into my home.

- He was unarmed and running away.

- A man has a right to protect his own property.

We caught the little deviant redhanded.

Oi!

So then Ambrose, fancy another trophy?

- So you hunted him down like an animal?

- You can't prove it was my bullet that killed him.

- We won't need to in order to send you down

for a very long time.

- We'll see what my solicitors have to say about that.

- It must have been a relief when Ambrose died,

taking your secret with him.

If only there hadn't been a witness.

- You're the second huntsman. - What are you on about, man?

I'm the shepherd. Learn the script for heavens sake.

- This play, it's Ambrose's confession, isn't it?

Oh, you didn't realise?

The whole time we've been rehearsing,

you didn't have a clue.

Well, I remembered everything,

the moment I saw that backdrop.

You're a murderer.

I'm a decorated veteran.

- Then let's see what the police think.

- Who's going to believe the testimony of a child,

30 years after the event?

I'd be very careful if I were you.

So you silenced him, right?

You doctored the dagger and you used poor Myrna

to do your dirty work.

Hopefully Myrna will be able to start again.

Unlike those two men whose lives you ended on a whim.

- No need to get sentimental, Inspector Gillespie.

Preston Hadley Pargiter,

I'm arresting you for the murders of Kenny Buck

and Lewis Garner.

You are not obliged to say anything

unless you wish to do so

but anything you do say may be put into writing

and given in evidence.

- Chins up, G-SADS, only three more shows to go.

But we've lost half our cast.

- I could perform it as a one man play experimental, you know?

Give BAPS a run for it's money.

- We're already a laughing stock.

No offence.

Oh, Morning all.

The good news is I brought some leftover madeira

cake from the polio fundraiser.

And the bad news.

- Ah, well, I trust Roger Farnaby will be happy

having something more to gloat about.

- "The Cursed Arrow fell well short of its target...

turgid and incomprehensible"?

Who wrote this drivel? "However...

"It was agreed that the play had surreal

echoes of early Beckett."

"While the cast were somewhat unpolished

and with, um, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,

it was thought that Mr. Livingstone was a rare talent

with a remarkable gift for the avant-garde."

"with all things considered,

we are very pleased to confirm G-SADS

the worthy recipient of the inaugural grant

for Most Promising Cultural Endeavour."

No! Never!

Onwards!