All language subtitles for 07 - Campion Mystery Mile pt1

(THEME SONG PLAYING)

I don't like lady pianists.

It is my good friend,
Judge Lobbett.

Very courageous of him
to come down for the concert.

He's a marked man, you know.

Four murders in his household,
within the past month,

and each time he has
miraculously escaped.

CAMPION: Travelling
for his health, I take it.

Like I am.
He'll be safe on the boat.

I wouldn't bet on it.

Your police will have to
keep him in a steel band box

-if they are going to
look after him.
-(CHUCKLES)

Bravo!

Those are his children
with him.

Senora Verola,
ladies and gentlemen.

And now, mystery.

AUDIENCE: Ohh!

I'm pleased to tell you
that Prince Samir,

the world famous
Indian illusionist,

has very kindly consented
to entertain us.

Oh, good.
I'm potty about conjurers.

EMCEE: Prince Samir.

My name is Barber,
Alistair Ferguson Barber.

I am Turkish, but I had
a Scotch ancestor.

-"Scottish".
-Yes.

I am in the fine art business.
Pictures, you know.

CAMPION: An expert?
BARBER: Yes.

My good friend Judge Lobbett,
is a collector.
Very enthusiastic.

Very clever. Very clever.

They say those tricks
are handed down from
generation to generation.

All done by mirrors.

And now ladies and gentlemen,

Prince Samir would like
to show you his
most remarkable trick.

The greatest
he has every performed.

SAMIR: Now,
ladies and gentlemen,
with the aid if this cabinet,

I shall make disappear
any one of you,
who will come and help.

I shall make that person
disappear and re-appear.

And, if after the experience,
someone can tell me
how the miracle was performed,

well, I shall throw myself
into the sea.

Now, who will be the first?
How about you, sir?

Oh, no, Your Highness.
I am too old
for these adventures.

-Ahh!
-We have somebody here.

I'll disappear.

You'll have to wait
your turn, young man,
Prince Samir has chosen me.

I shall now invite this
gentleman to step in here.

I shall close these doors
and when I open them again,
he will be gone.

Now sir, if you please.

But you asked me first.

I don't know who you are, sir,
but you're making
a darn nuisance of yourself.

I am genuinely interested
in this experiment.

And I think everyone else is.

You're spoiling it
for everyone.

Now if you will
please excuse me.

I said...
I said excuse me please,
if you don't...

You fool, can't you see
the whole cabinet is alive.

Switch the power off.

Ladies and gentlemen,
clear the lounge
if you please.

Clear the lounge immediately.

There has been
a slight accident,
but no one has been hurt.

I want to know
who's responsible for this.

My father might have
been killed.

No one was responsible, sir.

It was an unfortunate accident
in moving the piano...

I don't believe that
it was an accident.

Alright Marlowe,
this isn't the time
to discuss this.

Someone knew I couldn't
resist a conjuror.

But I don't think
we'll discuss it here.

Please will you
clear the area.

Never this has
happened before,
I promise you, never, never.

You too sir.

You saw what happened, sir.
Do you think
it was deliberate?

Yes.

Well, then, I guess
you saved my father's life.

A pleasure.

Well, thank you. We owe you.

If there is anything
I can do for you in London,
please ring me.

I shouldn't think
we'll meet again on this ship.

We humble artisans
feel dreadfully out of place
up here.

I'm scared, Marlowe,
more scared
than I was at home.

It's going to be alright, kid.

If only the old man
wasn't so damned obstinate.

Taxi!

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

(IN FOREIGN ACCENT)
Aphrodite Glue Works.

Is that Mayfair 3925?

(IN NORMAL ACCENT)
It's right. Who do you want?

It's alright. I want to
speak to a Mr Campion.

Oh.

Can I have your
name please sir?

Lobbett, Marlowe Lobbett.

Listen carefully, sir,
you want Bottle Street
police station on Piccadilly.

Side door on the right.

Up the stairs, to top.
That'll connect you
with the police station.

Can I come right away?

Shall we say, two-ish?

Two o'clock? I'll be there.

Pleased to see ya,
good bye sir.

Where is dad?

Gone out, I think.

Well, go find him.
And don't let him
out of your sight.

-I'm going with you.
-Isopel, please.

-Come in.
-Thank you.

Here.

I have to live next door
to a police station
because of my friends.

It's also great protection
against some of my more
doubtful acquaintances.

I've come to you
as a last chance, Mr Campion.

Yes, people generally do.
Here, have some of this.

It's all my own work,
it contains almost everything
except tea.

Now, young sir,
what did the police say
to you this morning.

-How do you know about...
-Police hair, my dear Watson.

Come and sit down.

They were no help, I suppose?

They wouldn't guarantee
my father's safety.

No, I don't altogether
blame them.

Your own police in New York

weren't exactly handing out
insurance certificates,
were they?

No. It's mostly
the old boy's fault.

He won't let the police
look after him their way.

You see he's never been afraid
of them.

And he's not
going to begin now.

He's not crazy,
he just feels
that way about it.

Well, you see
what I'm up against?

Not quite.

-But I thought you knew...
-Some idea.

Have an idea who they are?

Probably a gang run by
somebody called Simister.

Does that name
mean anything to you?

It does indeed.

Mr Campion,
can you tell me anything
about this man, Simister?

Is he just a gangster,
a master crook?

Or is it like they say
back home,

a powerful gang using
the word as
a sort of trade name.

Does Simister exist?

Somewhere on this earth,
there is a man
called Simister.

He may be a bogill,
he may be a devil,

but he is
a real power of evil.

I've talked to crooks,
I've talked to the police,

I've even talked to
members of his own gang,

none of them have every
laid eyes on the man.

He's the voice
on the telephone.

The shadow on the road.

The gloved hand
that turns the light
in the crook play.

But with one big difference.

He's never caught.

And they say no one
ever escapes him.

Why your father?

It's sort of revenge,
we think.

Why?

Well, the old boy's been
fighting the Simister gang
all his life.

And when the police caught
one of them,
Dad gave it him hard,

not unjust, just hard.

Is that all.

Well, Dad won't talk about it.
We can only guess.

Let's have it.

I believe that Dad
has something definite
on the Simister gang

and I've been trying to
figure out what it can be.

I hope for both your sakes,
that what you think
isn't true.

Revenge is one thing,
but if has a line
on these people, well...

What can I do?
What can anyone do?

A fabulous summer spent on
hiring Mr Campion's assistance
or a waste of good gold?

I told you,
you're my last hope.

My dear young optimist,
what you're saying is,

"Here's a nice war,
come and join it."

Hotch Daton
won the first race.

Oh, good,
now I can get dressed.

Had my shirt on that horse.

Excuse me.

Hold on, stop press.

"Judge Crowdy Lobbett,
an American visitor,

"narrowly missed
a serious accident

"when a taxi cab
mounted the pavement

"near his hotel
in The Strand

"and crashed through
a shop window
late this morning.

"No one was injured."

God, he doesn't know
where I am.

Poor Isopel,
she'll be terrified.

-I must go.
-Wait for me,
I won't be a minute.

I'm in this.

I knew it.

Giles, Swithin, he's here.

Ill met by daylight,
proud Sir Giles.

Well, well, my little ones,
how you've grown.

And by all that's unholy,
except those plus fours,
the Reverend Swithin Cush.

Hello Albert.

Now, man of mystery,
spill the beans.

You're serious,
the ancestral home is to let?

GILES: Absolutely,
if anyone will take it.

We're a bit pushed for tinkle,
Albert, seriously.

Trouble is we had
horrible death duties when
the poor old governor died

and farming simply
isn't paying at the moment.

But all the village expect us
to go on employing them
and paying them.

Like the Pagetts
have always done.

I've got something
to put up to both of you.

It just so happens
I want a country house,
in a remote spot,

for a particularly peppy job
I've got on hand
at the moment.

-For how long?
-A fortnight or so.

Mrs Wybrow, how marvelous,
you read my dreams.

I know what you're thinking.
You're wondering where
the slow music comes in.

Have heard of Judge Lobbett?

We read the papers, even here.

BIDDY: The old boy,
they're always trying to kill.

-Are you in on that Albert?
-Up to the neck.

On the right side of course.

He stirred up a hornets' nest
in America

and now it seems
pretty certain
they've followed him here.

The trouble is,
he's an infernally tough nut,

he's not frightened
and won't be helped.

Luckily, he's got
a bee in his bonnet
about folklore,

ancient English customs,
that sort of thing.

That's really why he's coming,
he can pretend to be
lord of the manor.

I shall rely on you Vicar,
for the archeology
and what not.

Relics of witch burnings,
polish up the stocks,
you know the sort of thing.

Oh, I'm just the man for that.

Anything to do with the devil.

Oh, and he's
fond of paintings,
by the way.

Ours aren't much, I'm afraid.

Oh, they look alright
and serried ranks
of ancestors.

The main thing is the old bird
wants to take the place off
your hands for £50 a week.

Seems a bit hard, though,
kicking you out of
your own house.

No, it's wonderful.
The Dire House is empty,
we'll move over there.

Do you expect trouble, Albert.

I don't see
how we can escape it.

But in a place like this,
if there are strangers about,

well, we'll know at once.

I'll need your help, Giles.

It's about time
something happened down here.

I'm in it too.

Oh, no, Biddy, no.
This is men's work.

Quite definitely and seriously
this is not your sort of show.

I am staying
or the whole deal is off.

The judge has a daughter,
hasn't he?

If she's going to be here,
so am I.

Besides, what would you
three poor fish do without me.

Saint Swithin,
please bring your
influence to bare,

would you tell her this is
no place for the tender sex.

In the words of the barn,
I do remain as neuter,
although I usually obey Biddy.

You're making
this very awkward.

-I've never done it...
-Oh, don't be a fool,
you silly old dear.

I'm with you to the death,
you know that.

GEORGE: Well,
you're a foreigner

and therefore it ain't likely
you'll be used to our ways.

All the same,
we welcomes you.

We hopes you'll do your best
to keep up the old ways
and do all you can for us.

Now, we'll sing a hymn.

Oh! You come upon me unawares,
Mr Campion.

I was saying a few words
I'll be going to speak
for the visitors.

-Speech of welcome.
-Something like that.

Me and the Rector
was talking, you see.
He was all for singing.

But me being church warden,

seemed only right
I should do the greeting,
him being a foreigner.

I wouldn't bother
with a speech, George.

Aren't there some
local customs, you know,
maypolings and whatnot.

Not give a speech?

Well, you knows best, sir.

But maypoling time's passed,

and Pharisees Day,
well, that ain't come yet.

None of these feasts
are moveable?

Oh, no.
You can't alter the days,
not for nobody.

Pity.

Oh, no, there's nothing...
Unless it be Owl Friday.

-Oh, it's not Friday.
-Doesn't matter.

Owl Friday can be anytime.

Me and my brother Henry,
we make powerful strong owls.

Especially if
our whistles be wetted
with some good beer.

(IMITATING OWL HOOTING)

Yes, good idea George,
excellent.

But save your breath
for whistle-wetting time, eh?

You just give me the word.

We're the men for you, sir.

Yes, I do believe you are.

Albert, I've been looking
for you everywhere.

We showed them
all over the house and they
are just charmed about it.

Son's awfully handsome,
don't you think?

-You wait until you see me
in my new ball gown.
-(CHUCKLES)

Jealous?

I like that painting,
Sir Giles.
Romney isn't it?

Not genuine, I'm afraid,
or it would have been sold.

My father called it
our faux Romney.

Would you think it
very rude of me,
if I had it authenticated,

at my expense of course?

Not in the least.
I should've had it done
ages ago.

It is a lovely place.

I congratulate you,
Mr Campion, on your choice
on our behalf.

I hope the children
won't find it too quiet.

I know you'll all excuse me.

You weren't followed?

I think they were waiting
for us in London.

But your fellow Lugg
put them off the scent.

Yes, he has a genius
for misleading people.

BIDDY: We'll leave the place
to you now.

You'll find Mrs Wybrow
has prepared
everything for you.

She's a wonderful
housekeeper.

And you'll come across to
the Dire House and have
dinner with us this evening.

Oh, Miss Pagett.

I'm so glad you're here.

Thank goodness
the judge fell for it.

Nice old boy,
rather like the governor,
only American.

Same direct way of looking
at you and saying exactly
what comes into his head.

Boy oh boy, what a girl!
What a girl!

Would you say her eyes
were blue or brown or
a sort of heather mixture?

"Gillies..."
(STAMMERING)

"Giles", Giles of course.

"Giles Pagett,
the son of..."

-"Hubert".
-"Hubert,

"holds of the king,
nine caricades..."

Mmm-hmm.

"...of land in the
hundred of Mist Mile."

Yes, Mist Mile
was the old name.

Even now our creek
is full of mist

when the rest of the
coast is quite clear.

"There is land
for seven ploughs,

"woodland for 10 swine,

"meadow, one league in length,
for 30 sheep."

Well, if have to do this
lord of the manor job,

I best be off
to buy me some
swine and sheep.

SWITHIN: I can find you
a secondhand plough.

(OWL HOOTING)

An owl. Did you hear it?

I wonder what it means.

If I'm not very much mistaken,
it means a visitor.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

God bless my soul.

Mr Anthony Datchett, palmist.

Not a gate crasher I hope.

Datchett, of course.
He's the palmist.

A fortune teller,
now that is interesting.
Is he a gypsy?

No sir.
It's a gentleman
with a big car.

He's an extraordinary chap,
according to Guffy Randall.

Goes around country houses
after dinner

shilling out the past
and future at five bob a time.

Quite a character.

Well, let's have him in.

Why not, it's always
instructive to be told
what's going to happen next.

MRS WYBROW: Mr Datchett.

May I introduce myself
more fully.

My name is Anthony Datchett,
I am an itinerant palmist.

I should be delighted
if one or two of you

would consent to
let me give a reading.

If I do,
I can promise you one thing...

The truth.

Tell me.

Certainly.

Shall we go over there,
better without an audience
if one is to be frank.

The only man
who told my fortune
was an income tax inspector.

Did he tell you about
Owl Friday?

Now then, children,
would you like to see a dose

of my very own brand of magic?
Gather around.

It's called the
Three Card Trick or
by the common route,

Spot the Lady.

Now then, miss,
which is your money on?

I say.

Now then, Marlowe,
keep your eye on the card.

(TALKING INDISTINCTLY)

Judge.

-Not a lady spotter
in the house.
-Brilliant!

You know, you could
make a living with that trick.

I did, madam, I did.
I kept a wife and
three kiddies in comfort.

Albert the Card was famous
on the race courses of Britain
from Ayr to Ascot.

Then one day, alas the hand
of the law came upon poor
happy Albert's shoulder and...

When I got out of clink,
it was Albert the upright,
Albert the good,

as you see him now.

What a story!

Are you still married?

BIDDY: If you hadn't
realised it before,

Mr Campion's a habitual
and congenital liar.

He's quite astounding,
honestly.

Biddy, you really should
get him to tell your fortune.
He's an amazing chap.

What really got me,
was when he told me

that I was thinking of
entering a horse for the
Suffolk Show next month.

I now that's pretty obvious.

But he said I wouldn't
send a mare and foal,
but a hunter instead.

What's extraordinary is,

only the day before yesterday
I decided not to send
a mare and foal,

but put Oliver in the
middle weight hunter class.

I haven't told a soul,
even our groom, even Biddy.

Isn't that crazy?

He's got second sight
that man.

Or he's done his
homework rather well.

The reverend seems
interested alright.

Doesn't he.

I do hope he's promising him
lots of adventures.

He's led such a good,
quiet life.

GILES: I doubt if
he'd like that.

Old Swithin's note
is tranquility.

That seems to be
the note of the whole place.

What luck did you have?

Oh.

I'm too old to have
any fortune at all.

I must go to bed,
I know you'll understand.

We keep early hours
in the country.

No, please don't get up.

-Good night.
-Good night.

It's rather late I'm afraid.

I can tell one more fortune.

Let it be someone
to whom I can promise
nothing but happiness.

Will you permit me
to tell yours?

Yes.

Good night my dear.

Give my love to Giles.

Although you will not marry
one of your own people,
your domains will be wide.

And you will know the peace,
which is the lowing of kine
over small meadows.

That is your fortune.

It is a pity I cannot promise
as much to you all.

Adieu.

-Thank you for coming.
-A pleasure.

-You pace your money.
-Sir.

Alice is in the kitchen.
She's brought this
from the Reverend.

"Giles and Campion,
come over alone.
Swithin."

He wouldn't part
with his ring
unless it was important.

We best humour him.
See what he wants.

You know, that fellow
Datchett, he also knew my
favourite brand of cigars.

He's quite extraordinary.
But he was dead right
about the hunter...

(GUNSHOT)

-Please let go, Miss Biddy,
I tell ye.
-Stay here, Alice.

He says that
Giles and Mr Campion
are to go alone.

No. Let me go in first.

All right.

String tied to the trigger.
It's the usual way.

Oh, God.
Poor old Swithin.

CAMPION: Who's Henry Topliss?
GILES: Coroner.

-Sorry, I couldn't stop her.
-He shot hisself.

Lord have mercy on his soul.

Not in his chair.
I'll not sit in his chair.
The chair of the dead.

Rector dead.

I'll take Alice along.

She my sister.
My wife take care of her.

She looked after he so long,
this has come like
a bit of a shock to her like.

Goodnight.

-Goodnight.
-George.

-Don't rouse the village.
-No, sir.

Mouth shut,
best at a time like this.

What in the name of creation
does it all mean?

You knew him
as well as we did.
Why would he do such a thing?

CAMPION: I don't know.

I don't know.

How horrible.

Over here, all in the dark.

Well, I'd better go and
get Sergeant Peck and
the old doc from town then.

Yes, we'll stay here.

This was on the desk
next to the letter
to the coroner.

It's for you.

BIDDY: (READING)
"Forgive me and pray for me.

"My temptation was great.
I succumbed to it.

"All my love to you,
my child.

"Tell Albert about
our longest walk."

I mean,
what was the temptation?

Why'd he choose
such an odd time?
Just after that man was here?

Albert.

-That man killed Swithin.
-Oh, come on now, Biddy.

That nasty little man
with the red beard
told him something.

While we were all
listening to Giles
he said something

to make Swithin
so right out
and kill himself.

-I know it.
-It's pretty far-fetched.

Do you think he's just
an ordinary fortune teller?

No, I don't.
I don't think that
for a moment.

That bird was up to
something fishy.

Not exercising telepathy.

The stuff he told Giles
was a pretty bright
piece of work.

A chap like that
could earn a fortune.

Could that man
have come here
because of the Judge?

-I mean, could he actually
be the man you told us about?
-Simister?

There's always a chance,
I suppose.

Hmm.

That's from his best set.

Poor Saint Swithin.
Most have gone potty.

I don't think so.
I think he's trying to
tell us something.

What about the longest walk
you're supposed to
tell me about?

We've been for so many walks.

One day everyone
thought we got lost.

-That must have been the one.
-Tell me.

We crossed the Stroud,
and went onto
the farther salting.

Then we turned back.

The sky and the water
the same colour.

When we got back near here,

this big pool of quicksand.

People here call it
"The Soft".

That must have been
what he meant.

Danger.

Biddy, my dear child.

We all have to die
in this wicked world.

And I'm not afraid
of it at all.

But, if and when I do,

if something terrible
should happen after my death.

Come on, Swithin.
You're not going to die.

-Not for years and years.
-Listen.

If something terrible
should happen,

I want you to go
to see Alaric Watts.

-Yes, I remember him.
-Good.

-And you promise?
-Yes, I promise.

-But what on earth
are you talking about?
-No more questions.

Let's go and have
an enormous tea.

Cream buns and strawberry jam.
I'm famished.

CAMPION: Who's Alaric Watts?
BIDDY: Another parson.

He was Swithin's best friend.
A very keen archaeologist.

He's got a parish
over by Wickham Market.

But Swithin had never
heard of the Lobbetts then.

He had when
he wrote this note.
And when he sent me this.

(DOOR OPENS)

Alice, Sir Giles has gone
for the police and the doctor.

I'll wait for him.
You go to your beds.

I looked after him in life,
I'll look after him in death.

He's old.
He wouldn't want
nobody but me.

Goodnight to you.

Ahh! Mr Campion.
It's good of you
to come over so late.

Please,
help yourself to a drink.
I guess you can do with one.

Yes. Yes, indeed.

This is a terrible business,
Mr Campion.

Terrible, terrible
bad business.

Death seems to follow me
like gulls follow a ship.

No, I uh...

I reckon that you and I ought
to understand each other
before we go any farther.

You see, I don't know
too much about you.

And I feel that I'm
following your instructions
without knowing why.

Marlowe engaged you
to look after me,
am I right?

But you're not a policeman,
are you?

Hardly, no.
Though recommended,
I believe.

I suggested you come here
because I believed you'd
be safer here than anywhere.

-And your family
would run less risk.
-How much do you know?

In New York they were
just trying to frighten you.

They didn't know how much
you knew but suspected
you had a line on them.

Then I think they realised
you had a definite line, so,

they decided to kill you.
You escaped.

I should say myself that
you're very close to knowing
the true identity of Simister.

That you got a clue,
perhaps, from one
of the Simister gang

which you can't
quite decipher.

Well,

I don't mind telling you
that when I first saw you,
Mr Campion,

I thought you were
the biggest damn fool
ever made.

Now I'm beginning to wonder
if you might not be some
sort of telepathy expert,

like our ginger-bearded
friend.

I've got one end
of the string.

But if any of that crowd
gets wind of it,

my fear is that
they'll cut it higher up

and I'll lose the one chance
of stopping this thing
at the head.

It's me against Simister.

That's the way I feel about it
and I don't want to
involve anyone else.

-Wouldn't one ally be useful?
-No. No one.

Not my children,
not the Paggett's
and not the police.

I'm not any of those.

I'm an old fool
not to welcome your help.

But no police.

CAMPION: No police.

So, the inquest's over, eh?

Alright.

Extraordinary.
That bit in Swithin's letter
to the coroner about

a malignant
and incurable disease.

Oh, Swithin was no more
mortally ill than I am.
It just wasn't true.

-I just don't understand.
-Well, it is the most
common form of delusion.

-Once someone believes...
-Kettle, Your Honour,
from the shop.

Morning, Sir Giles,
Miss Biddy.
I brought your post, sir.

My daughter said,
"There's His Honour, the judge
going back the manor.

"Why don't you just nip out
with his post?"

-Why, I'm very obliged
to you, sir.
-Oh, no sir.

It's my pleasure to oblige
you and your family, sir.

We have a nice
little shop here.
Very well stocked.

Anything you require,
day or night,

you just tell me
and I'll send it over.

-Well, thank you very much,
Mr, uh?
-Kettle, Your Honour.

He seems very obliging.

Rather an oily fellow.
No one in the village can
stick him or his daughter.

-Trouble is, he's a foreigner.
-Oh, I hadn't caught that.

Oh, yes.
He comes from Ipswich.

Oh!

Well, I wonder who would be
writing me here.

-May I?
-Of course.

Oh, Lord.
I forgot all about this.

I had written to
some people in London
about your painting, Giles.

They're sending
a man down tomorrow.

Now, I can easily put him off.

I would feel ungracious
to have him around
at a time like this.

Please don't let
this terrible thing
make any difference.

Old Swithin never disobliged
anyone in his life and
I know he'd hate to do it now.

-Of course. Biddy's right.
-Yes, well.

They're sending a man
called Alistair Barber.
I know him slightly.

Albert.

-What was the verdict?
-Suicide during
temporary insanity.

-Did you see the parson?
-Alaric Watts, Reverend.
Yes. Nice man.

Very upset about Swithin.
That's all.

-Perhaps he had gone potty.
-Either that or the serious
trouble hasn't begun yet.

What about the red chessman?

Biddy, my love.
Promise me
never, never, ever

say anything about
the red chessman
to anyone. Never.

-Promise.
-I promise.

Bravo.

-Brilliant! Albert, we won.
-It's a knack I acquired
in China.

-Albert's marvellous.
-I excel at all vicious games.

Now, where is this maze
they tell me about?

Over there.
On the other side
of the garden.

Come on. We'll show you.

MARLOWE: Albert.

I'm sorry Dad wrote
to that art fellow.

-Rather gave
our whereabouts away.
-Alistair Barber. Yes.

Oh, don't worry.
He's quite harmless.

Though like all experts
he talks too much.

Worse than a movie stars'
confessions.

JUDGE: This is a fine maze.

BIDDY: We used to have
such fun playing here
when we were children.

-Is this the entrance?
-That's right?

-Do you want to know the key?
-Oh, no.

That would be cheating,
wouldn't it?

-I'll find my own way.
-It's not difficult really.

My own tour of the maze,
which our impetuous friend,
the Judge has missed,

will be conducted
by the world's
greatest authority on

barratry, trigonometry,
and the Kibbo Kift.

I shall charge a small fee.

Have you found
the centre yet, Mr Lobbett?

JUDGE: I believe
I'm getting that way.

(OWL HOOTING)

JUDGE: I don't believe
this maze has got a middle.

-Are you coming?
-Right-O. Just coming.

The key is,
turn left whenever you can.

Giles?
Have you found him yet?

GILES: Still looking.

MARLOWE: Dad?

Mr Lobbett?

GILES: Mr Lobbett?

Keep turning left.

Funny.

Look.
I'll go back to the centre.
You search the blind alleys.

-You go in, Marlowe.
-CAMPION: I wouldn't.

(OWL HOOTING)

Leave it to the professionals.

(OWL HOOTING)

Mr Lobbett?
Can you hear us?

No sign of him, Giles.

Try that false way
out from the centre.

Dad? Answer me.

MARLOWE: This is crazy.
He must be there.

-There's no other way out,
is there?
-I don't think so.

-Maze never has a second door.
-ISOPEL: He's foxing.

He's lost,
but he won't let on.

He's gone, Albert.

-He can't have gone.
-We've searched every inch.

It's as if he's disappeared
into the ground or something.

I knew something like this
was going to happen.

They followed us here.

I knew we wouldn't be able
to get away from them.

We've roused the devil.

I knew it. I knew it.
There's some evil power
that's stalking us.

It's something
we can't escape.

Please don't disturb yourself.

I have an appointment.

I say, hello!

Oh, God.
It's that damn picture dealer.

So nice to see you again,
Mr Lobbett.

-MARLOWE: Miss Pagett.
-A pleasure, Miss Pagett.

Alistair Ferguson Barber.
And?

I don't believe it.

My companion from the ship.
Mr Albert.

Memorial.
I never forget a name.

Slip of the tongue.
Campion.
Albert Campion.

Yes. Always joking.

Your father
has asked me to look
at a picture for him.

I'm afraid that's...

Judge Lobbett
isn't available at the moment,
I'm afraid Mr Barber.

He sends his apologies.

If you let me know
where you can be contacted,
I'll telephone you.

No. I will wait.
I have plenty of time.

And what is time
in a beautiful place
like this?

This paradise.

This is the very soul
and spirit of England.

When I look around,
my heart flies up to heaven,
like the crow.

Lark. The crow doth
sing as sweetly as,
but not flieth to heaven.

Look. The clouds of Constable.

Ah!

-Where is the painting?
-What painting?

The painting.
The supposed Romney.

Ahh.

Follow me.

What are you doing?

Who are you, anyway?

Alistair Ferguson Barber.

I am waiting for
Judge Lobbett.
I have a commission from him.

-And who are you?
-Giles Pagett. I live here.

Then I must congratulate you,
Sir Giles, on your
beautiful house and estate.

But not, I am afraid,
on the state
of your paintings.

This one for example.
It may be beautiful,
perhaps even valuable,

but who can tell
under all that
grime and varnish.

And this fine Girtin,
nearly ruined by the damp.

Would you please
put this painting
back where you found it?

But I must finish
my photographing.

Well, finish it then.
And then go back to London.

-I am waiting for
Judge Lobbett.
-Judge Lobbett is not here.

Where is he then?
I have an appointment.
I have it in writing.

Please do as I say.

Sir Giles...

You hope this is
by Romney, eh?

At the moment,
I really don't care
who painted it.

-Any luck?
-I don't know.
Look at this.

That's the only place anyone
could have gotten in or out
of the maze, bar the entrance.

He must have
heard us shouting.
There's no sign of a struggle.

How could anybody
get him out of here
without making a sound?

I'll organise a search.

On your way.

GILES: Come in, please.

Have you anything to report?

Any of you?

Has anyone seen
anything unusual at all?

Speak up. Let's hear about it.

None of us ain't seen nothing,
Sir Giles.
It to be a wonder.

Maybe a wonder
you haven't found him,
George.

He can't have vanished
into thin air, can he?

I could find
the old gentlemen
if anybody could.

I be wileful smart
in searching out
anything that be alive.

But neither me,
nor Henry, nor none of us,
we ain't seen nothing.

I'm afraid the man's right,
Sir Giles.

I shut up my shop right away,
and as you know, I've been
searching ever since.

You can depend on it,
we've done our best.

-I must have walked
10 miles...
-Yes, we know.

Thank you very much. Now.

What about boats?
Could someone have got
the judge away on a boat?

-Henry?
-No, sir.

My brother was on his boat
all the morning mending nets.

If a boat had come,
he couldn't help but see it.
Isn't that right, Henry?

But when you were
off searching.

-The boy was there
all the time, weren't you?
-BOY: Yeah, I was there.

-And no mist
in the tunnel either.
-What tunnel?

It's what they call the creek.
There's usually
a mist pocket in it.

Like a bit of a dip
in the saltings, like.
Misty all day, they are.

It be a wonderful
place for snares.

Used to be, I mean.

Thank you. All of you.

Mrs Wybrow will give you
some beer in the barn.
Off you go.

You stay, George.

This place is
more or less an island.

The only way out is across
the causeway.

No one's gone that way.
I've had a man on it
all the time.

I could vouch for that, sir.

This is the maddest thing
I've ever known.

I think we should have
another look in the creek,

in case they missed
some footprints in the sand.

There are plenty
of footmarks here.

-None down here.
-GEORGE: Wouldn't be though,
would there?

Why not?

Oh, my Lord.

GEORGE: The Soft.

Quicksands.