All language subtitles for Sister.Boniface.Mysteries.S02E09.WEBRip.x264

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!