All language subtitles for Campion.S01E01.Look.To.The.Lady.Part.1.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H

(THEME SONG PLAYING)

Albert Campion.
Born, May the 20th, 1900.

Name, known to be a pseudonym.

Education, privileged.

Embarked on adventurous
career, 1929.

Justice neatly executed.

Nothing sordid, deserving
cases preferred. Police
no object.

Business address,
17 Bottle Street, Piccadilly,
London, W1.

Specialist in fairy stories.

I'll have to ask you to
move on. The Inspector's
due round any minute.

If you'll, uh, accept
this, sir.

You'll have visible
means of support.

And I shan't
have to take
you along.

Thank you, Baker.
This really is extraordinarily
kind of you. I...

Shan't forget it.

Oh, that's all right,
sir. You once gave
me £5.

On boat race night,
as I recall.

Oh, really?

The Inspector.

Where the devil
can I go?

Ebury Square, off
Southampton Row.
He never goes there.

# If I had a talking picture
of you

# I would run it every time
I felt blue

# I would sit there
in the gloom

# Of my lonely little room

# And applaud each time
you whispered

# I love you #

Excuse me, you
dropped something.

Everything sold
except sausage and mash.

There was a bit of stew,
but I'm having that meself.

Is this Hemp's,
32A Wembley Road,
Clerkenwell?

Might be.
Who's asking?

I am. Oh, this
envelope came into
my possession,

it has my name on one side
and this address
on the other.

I see.

You're claiming to be

-Percival St John
Wykes... Guyrth.
-Gyrth.

I'm not claiming, I am.

You take the long road.

I don't quite follow you.

-Can you prove it?
-Prove what?

Prove it's your
proper handle.

Percival St John what's it?

Well, if you're prepared to
take my tailor's word for it,

my name is on
the tab here.

Not much of a fit.

I've lost weight during
the last 18 months.

Pleased to meet you.
My name's Lugg.

I've got another
letter for you.

Sit down.
I'll fetch you some supper.

Any use for sauce?

I say,
have you heard
of a Mr Albert Campion?

He lives in
number 17 Bottle Street.

Sounds familiar.

Can't say as I place him,
not accurate.

Do you, uh,
recommend the sauce?

Quite handy at blocking
out the taste.

You'll be able to take
a taxi when you go.

When I go where?

Bottle Street.

He'll be expecting you.

Taxi!

-MAN: Where to, guv?
-Bottle Street, off
Piccadilly.

(TYRES SCREECHING)

I said Bottle Street,
off Piccadilly.

You're going the wrong way.

And you're driving too fast.

Shut up!

(RADIATOR HISSING)

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

-Mr Gyrth.
-Yes.

-Are you...
-I hope you didn't have too
much trouble getting here.

Do come through.

This is going to sound
frightfully rude but,

who are you?

Albert Campion.

Born May the 20th, 1900.

Justice neatly executed.

Nothing sordid.
Deserving cases preferred.

Police, no object.

Business address, here.

Specialist in fairy stories.

Would you like to
hear a fairy story?

Mr Campion, I'm living
through a fairy story.

I'm given an envelope
with my name on it

directing me to Hemp's Eating
House in Clerkenwell.

I go there, the proprietor
gives me another letter
directing me here.

I get in a taxi and a man
tries to shanghai me.

That was my mistake,
my apologies.

Is the balloon
part of the plot?

I'd just come from
a gala at the Athenaeum

when Lugg phoned to say
you were on your way.

The balloon is a coincidence.

A green herring.

I think before we proceed
with the fairy story,

you should step into the
blood and gore department.

This way, it's next to
soft furnishings.

Do you take the long
road, Mr Gyrth?

The man at Hemp's said that,
I don't know what it means.

What do you expect me to say?

It's a kind of test.
You passed with first
class honours.

There. I think you'll find
yourself cured or your
money back.

Thank you, Mr Campion.

I told you about myself,
now let me tell you about you.

Full name Percival St John
Wykes Gyrth.

Known to your friends
as Val.

Only son and heir to
Colonel Sir Percival
Christian St John Gyrth.

Baronet of the tower in the
village of Sanctuary
in Suffolk.

Are my spies correct?

-Totally.
-At the risk of being
highly personal,

I don't suppose Society
Illustrated circulates very
widely on the embankment.

We consider the sporting
life a great luxury.

Aunt Di.

The chalice!

CAMPION: The first time it's
ever been photographed,
I believe.

-Are you working
for my father?
-No.

-This is sacrilege.
-Now for the fairy story.

Once upon a time,
about 50 years ago,

there were six wealthy men.

They were all lovers of
objets d'art

and because they were very
wealthy, they could buy
almost anything they wanted

for their various
collections.

Almost anything.

There were some things
they couldn't buy.

If they wanted such things,

they had to be stolen.

-Stolen?
-Now,

if you're a very wealthy
man, you don't do
your own stealing.

You don't do
your own anything.

Otherwise there's
very little point
in being wealthy.

They hired the best available
thief to do it for them.

Let's call him George.

George was paid
handsomely for his services.

And if anything went wrong,
George took the consequences.

What is this to do with
your bringing me here?

I've spent the last two weeks
trying to find you

because unless you do
something about it,

the Gyrth Chalice will be
in the private collection

of a particularly
illustrious potentate within
a matter of weeks.

You're mad.

Who do you suppose tried
to kidnap you in the taxi?

Why do you imagine
there are two men at present
watching my front door?

VAL: Well...

Why don't they just march up
the stairs and grab me?

You leave your
front door open.

CAMPION: I take the precaution
of living next door to a
police station.

I've agreed a joint policy
with my constabulary
neighbours.

We oppose any
breaking of the law.

This isn't amusing.

My dear Mr Gyrth, I'm
never more serious
than when I'm joking.

Do you know that if the
chalice is lost,

all our family possessions
are forfeit to the Crown?

I know that.

I also know that by warning
you, I am placing
myself in opposition

to one of the most powerful
organisations in the world.

By offering you my assistance,
I am endangering my life.

Those chaps out there,
they would kill you?

They would kill anyone.

And they're working
for George?

Yes.

Except that George
isn't actually George.

Do you know who he is?

No.

I thought you
knew everything,
Mr Campion.

I know the rules
by which they operate.

George is appointed
as an agent in charge
of the operation.

He is generally an expert with
special skills or knowledge
of the job in hand.

If the said George
ends up arrested,
imprisoned or deceased

that is regarded as
the end of the matter.

A line is drawn across
the ledger and the ring
leaves well alone.

They look out for someone
else's family album.

Does that mean we have
to kill George?

We have to dispose of George.

But how do we start,
where do we start?

First catch your George.
And where?

You have to go home to
Suffolk, Mr Gyrth.

Home.

You are estranged
from your father.

Yes.

Cut off without even
the proverbial shilling.

I've learned one thing
this last year,

I'm completely
useless on my own.

I couldn't even get a job.

Heir to a great fortune
accepting charity
on the street.

That's why I asked
you whether you
took the long road.

-Why?
-That's a kind of password
among George's friends.

I see.

And if I had given
the right answer,

that would've proved I had
already been recruited by
George to steal the chalice.

With your position in the
family, you could easily have
been appointed

as George himself.

But your not.

You're on the side
of the righteous.

And tomorrow we'll smuggle
you out of here, by way
of a secret passage,

and we'll take the
turnpike to Suffolk.

And we'll seek out George
and the wicked weasels
from the wild wood,

and we'll whack 'em,
and whack 'em,
and whack 'em.

Last time I come this way

was in a police van.

I got three months, odd.

Joke was on the beat,
though, I was the wrong man.

Clever of you.
Fooling the judge like that.

That alibi was
worth something,
I can tell you.

We may be going to house where
they have real servants,
you'll have to behave.

I can handle servants.

Up to and including,
grievous bodily harm.

I've got discretion, me.

In both fists.

You should get on well
with my father's butler.

He had a wild youth,
I believe,

though his family have
looked after us for years.

What's his moniker?

Does he have a name,
this butler?

He's called Branch.

First name Roger?

Little thin bloke, talks
with a funny accent,
sort of provincial.

That's right.
Do you know him?

Prince of Parkhurst,
we used to call him.

(CHUCKLES)
You are a fantastic pair.

We can take our place in any
company without embarrassment.

We can supply testimonials.

LUGG: We wrote 'em.

Do you anticipate
any difficulties
with your father?

I don't think so.

I could've come...(EXHALES)
I could have come back
earlier if I'd been sensible.

It all began with...

If it's anything to do with
a woman, you can tell him.

He's been disappointed
himself.

Several times.

Go and lose yourself, Lugg.

Don't worry, I'll be
in the public.

I'll leave you to mess about
with your motorist lunch.

Seven a kit,
and coffee extra.

It's a liberty.

He was one of the most
promising burglars in the
business but,

he can't make the
weight any more.

Hi ho.

Tell me about the woman
in the photograph.

Your aunt.

Aunt Diana, Lady Pethwick.

She's my father's sister.

She lives in the camp house
on the estate.

Since my mother died,
she's tended to boss
the show a bit.

Is she, uh, batty?

Not certifiably.

A keen amateur.

(CHUCKLES)

Wears funny clothes
and wanders about at night.

Communing with the stars
and disturbing the game.

And if George were to
approach her...

Oh, she'd scream the place
down, she may be batty but

she'd kill anyone who
tried to steal the chalice.

Good.

Everything all right, sir?

Memorable, quite memorable.

WAITER: Thank you, sir.

Now, tell me about
the row you had
with your father.

I assume Lugg was right,
as usual.

Was it a woman?

Yes.

When I was at Cambridge,
I fell in love with a girl.

I thought I fell in
love with a girl.

I wanted to marry her.

Father didn't approve
and threatened to
stop my allowance.

I said I was big
enough to stand
on my own feet.

"Go ahead and stop
my allowance," I said.

-And he did.
-Yes.

And the girl found another.

More or less.

How did you know?

A blind, totally speculative
shot in the dark.

I was too proud to admit
that I was wrong.

And since then I've been
proving how useless I
am at making a living.

How useless I am at living.

Oh, Lord.

The power of prayer,
well, I never
underestimated it.

I'm not praying,
I'm hiding.

-From whom?
-A woman.

Generally a sound precaution.
I've had my disappointments
as Lugg told you.

Who is she?

Mrs Dick Shannon.

She owns a racing stable
at Heronhowe Heath.

She's one of those damn
women with a personality.

If she spots me, it'll be
all over the county by the
middle of the afternoon.

Conceal yourself behind
my fashionable profile.

Val Gyrth!

So you're back, eh?

Made it up with the old man,
have you?

Bring hither the
fatted calf and kill it.

(LAUGHS)

-When did this happen?
-It hasn't quite
happened yet.

I've just come down
from the tower.

I'm trying to make your father
sell me two yearlings.

What does he want with
race horses?

He hasn't got the sense
to train properly.

He'll soon be
as batty as your aunt.

If you'll excuse us,
we really do have
to be on our way.

Heard you were down and out.

You're looking well.

In the circumstances.

Loathsome woman.

More of an apparition, really.

Never mind your big words.
I was working while you
was playing the gentleman.

I've been noticing.

LUGG: Who do you think
I saw in the bar?

CAMPION: Robertson Hare,
Stanley Baldwin,
Aldous Huxley?

-George Bernard Shaw.
-Natty Johnson

I was warm.

One of the filthiest, dirtiest
lads of little race gang

tuffs I've ever taken
me hat off to.

The Cleaver gang, I believe.

See, you do know him.

Was anyone with him?

That's what I was noticing.
He was talking

to a little arty bloke
with a beard.

Like that Bloomsbury lot
what came to the flat
and sat on the floor.

Sent me out for kippers
and chianti.

There isn't an
artist quarter in the scrubs.
Bohemia passed him by.

I ain't finished yet.

This artistic cove,
and more like him,

are staying at the Tower
of Sanctuary, friends
of Lady Pethwick,

the barman tells me.

Arty cove talking to
Natty Johnson.

Confidential.

That's conspiracy.

Speaking as one
who knows.

BULLOCK: And will this suit
you, Mr Campion?

Beautiful, Mrs Bullock.

A room with good views.

Young Thomas is on his
way to the tower with a
message for your sister.

How is everyone, Bully?

Your father's well.

But looks worried.

Ms Penny, that's lovely.

I can see your mother in her.

And my aunt?

She's had herself
photographed

with the thing.

Yes, I know about that,
but, uh, otherwise?

Oh, she's right enough.

Except that's filled the
whole place with a
pile of loonies.

Artists?

No, not artists.

I've had artists
stay in here.

Quite tidy little
fellows, artists are.

No.

This lot, they're more
like Bolsheviks,
I shouldn't wonder.

I'll get you some vittles.

I always thought your story
was incredible but,

now I'm here, with everything
exactly as it always was.

Suddenly your fairy story
sounds just that.

A fairy story.

Look here, Campion, this
isn't some silly theatrical
stunt to get me back

into the bosom of the family,
is it?

I give you my word,
it isn't.

But you're pleased
to be back, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

Where's Lugg?

I expect he's in the bar.

Noticing.

BULLOCK: I brought you
a drop of home brewed.

The stuff the company
sends ain't what it
used to be.

-Home brewed?
-Anything that's worth
anything is home brewed.

(DOOR OPENING)

Here's the proof of it.

-Penny.
-Val.

-Hello, dear.
-Hello, sis.

Beth, this is my brother.
Val, this is Beth Cairey.

VAL: How do you do?
BETH: Hello.

We moved into Tide Hall
soon after you left.

The Caireys' are our
neighbours.

Except Beth and I are
the only ones who
behave like neighbours.

Lady Pethwick doesn't
like strangers.

Especially if they're
Scottish.

PENNY: And Father doesn't
speak to anyone very much
at the moment.

(SIGHS) Perhaps he will,
now you're home.

(CAMPION CLEARS THROAT)

I'm sorry, I should've
introduced you.

I always stand to one
side in the presence
of a touching reunion.

Albert Campion,
my sister, Penny.

And Beth Cairey.

-Hello.
-How do you do?

And what do you
do, Mr Campion?

I execute justice.

-Really?
-Is this a part time or a
full time occupation?

Yes. Both of those.

Why don't we talk about it
while we walk up to the tower?

-Are you serious?
-I think the sooner you
tell your father you're home,

the better.

I suppose so.

And it would help me
considerably in my
execution of justice

if I could case the joint.

Strictly from a distance.

I didn't understand
a word of that.

People are always
saying that to me.

Now do you understand?

Yes. Now I understand.

Thank you, Mr Campion.
I've been so worried
about the chalice.

-Why?
-Because of Aunt Di.

According to tradition,
she's guardian of the chalice.

Mistress of the cup.

It's all shrouded in mystery
and sounds a bit dotty but,

I'm just saying, having her
photograph taken with it

and letting all those weird
people do drawings of it.

These are the arty types
I've heard about.

There's one man
who's done a whole
series of drawings.

That's apart from the
chanting and sandals

and long white nightgowns.

CAMPION: This is near enough.

Not very much
but they call it home.

Yes, we do.

I know.

I'll do my best
to keep it nice.

Thank you, Mr Campion.

I must get back to the
village. I left Dr Watson,
investigating.

What an extraordinary man.

Where did you find him?

In Bottle Street.
Next door to the
police station.

(CLEARS THROAT)

(LAUGHING)

Are you home to stay?

If you'll have me.

Got rid of the nobs,
have you?

You are a social
handicap. Do you
realise that?

Me?

I don't have to go
touting for knighthoods.

What have you discovered
from your small corner?

We should never have
come here. That's what
I've discovered.

It's all hanky-panky,
this place.

Have you experienced any
hanky-panky?

I saw this bald woman.

Not just going,
but gone.

Almost hairless.

I asked about her and they
told me she's the local witch.

It's her family business,
witching.

Haunting and cursing.

Goes back for generations.

We are not here
on a witch hunt.

There's plenty more
hanky-panky where
that come from.

There's an haunted wood.

And a set of gippos
live in it and all.
Oh, let's go home.

What have you discovered
about the tower and
the Gyrth family?

That's the real reason
I wanna go home.

They've got a secret room
in the east tower

containing a nameless horror.

There's a window
but no door.

When the son of the
heirs is 25, his father
shows him in.

Shows him the nameless horror

and he's never the same again.

What sort of nameless horror?

If they knew that,
it wouldn't be nameless,
would it?

It's bound to be
some sort of monster.

Something you have to
feed with a pump.

You've certainly been
having fun in your quiet way.

I don't call it fun.

Would you like
to hear the truth?

You know me. Truth,
I'll either take it
or leave it.

There is, in the east
tower, a room with
no visible entrance.

There is a semi-religious
initiation ceremony

when the son of
the house is 25.

But get this into your head.

It's nothing to do with us.

Well, I don't want anything
to do with any of it, I
just wanna go home.

I can't stand the countryside,
its full of smells and noises.

When's his birthday?

-Who?
-His nibs.

Percival St John...
Fauntleroy, what's it!

Quite soon, I believe.

A good detective
should get that checked
up sharp.

I'll check it up, sharp.

Can you hear that?

I can't hear a thing.

What is it?

People.

Being haunted.

(WOMAN SCREAMING)

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

Wake up, Mr Campion.

What time is it?

Never mind what time it is,
there's been a murder.

But did you see the look
on her face?

She saw something
dreadful, Val.

She died of fright.

She had a bad heart.

She was wandering around
in the middle of the night
and she died, that's all.

Come on.

I've spoken to Dr Cobden.

There'll be no
need for an inquest.

Everyone knew about
her heart condition.

Something frightened her.

Old rabbit.

We all warned her about
wandering at night.

Val, perhaps you could
get rid of your aunt's
peculiar friends.

I think a quiet funeral,
don't you?

Wednesday, perhaps?

Are you trying to hush
everything up?

I'm trying to observe
a little decorum.

We have to think about
Val's birthday, too.

I shall be in the library.

(DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING)

What is he worried about?

Until yesterday, it was you.

Mr Albert Campion
for Mr Val Gyrth and
Ms Penny Gyrth.

Do come in, Mr Campion.

Be that who I think?

Well, who do you think it be?

(CHUCKLES) Aye, it be you!

C749.

A631.
(CHUCKLING)

(DOOR OPENING)

I decided to let myself in.

There's an old lags reunion
going on in the hall.

Forgive the levity.
I was sorry to hear
about your aunt.

What happened?

Two of the locals found her
in a clearing, by the woods.

Would it be tasteless of me
to ask if I might
see the clearing?

The scene of the discovery.

Not at all.
I can show you now.

Oh, I'm sorry,
I was forgetting.

I have to turf out
Aunt Diana's Bohemian friends.

I'll show you the clearing.

Thank you.

You'll ask the Bohemians
to go when?

Tomorrow?

Probably.

Mr Campion, last night
I made Val tell me everything.

About you, about the danger
to the chalice.

He told my father, too.

-You can count
on our total support.
-Thank you.

That includes mine.

Now my aunt is dead,
I'm legally responsible
for the chalice.

Mistress of the cup?

Oh, please don't imagine that
I'm a weak and feeble woman.

I'll try very hard
not to imagine that.

Pharisees Clearing.

It's really just a strip
of grass separating our wood
from the Tide Hall property.

CAMPION: Where your friend
Beth lives with her father.

PENNY: Yes.

"Or in the night,
imagining some fear,

"How easy is a bush
supposed a bear!"

I'm sorry?

My friend Shakespeare and I
had the same thought
at the same moment.

Is this place haunted?

The locals believe it is.

By a ghost?

By something much worse.

Do you believe it?

No, of course not.

And where exactly
was Lady Pethwick found?

Over there.

As far as I can gather
from Will Tiffin,
the man who found her.

I'm told, on good authority,
there's a witch operating
in the high street.

Mrs Munsey?

She didn't leave her card.

Only a wax effigy
and a pack of pins.

In the lady chapel
of the church,

there's a list of witches
put to death in 1624.

Every other name on the sheet
is Munsey.

Does Mrs Munsey live
in the village?

About half a mile outside,
in a sort of hen house,
with her son.

They're both simple,
poor things.

I might pay a call.

I've been having trouble
getting a hold of bat's wool
and newt's eye.

I've tried Harrods,
Fortnum...

Mr Campion,

my aunt died last night.

I'm sorry.

They found her here,
under this tree.

(CLEARS THROAT) I see.

You'll obviously think me
a fool for mentioning this.
But...

Mrs Munsey put a curse
on my Aunt Di
at the last full moon.

Why?

I don't know.

My aunt could be
rather overbearing
and officious.

She probably annoyed
Mrs Munsey in some way.

Does she curse many people?

And how successful
has she been in the past?

Last night was also
a full moon.

When they brought in the body
this morning, I saw her face.

I swear she died of fright.

-And, there's something else.
-Yes?

Will Tiffin told me.

When he found the body here,
she wasn't lying
where she'd fallen.

She was lying
stiff and straight.

Her hands folded,
her eyes closed.

Will said she'd been laid out
as a corpse.

COLONEL GYRTH:
Did you sleep well?

Very well, indeed.

Absolutely nothing went bump
in the night.

I suggest
you and your manservant
should stay here

until this business
is resolved.
Do you agree?

Thank you, Colonel. I agree.

If you'll excuse me.

I nicked this lot
out the Boehmians' traps.

I should explain,
my manservant

does tend to steal small items
from visitors' luggage.

Only when his nibs tells me.

Did you cop a look
at the geezer?

-Seedy little bloke with
the ginger beard and barney.
-Yes.

-Did you know him?
-Yes, he once worked for me.

He worked for you?

That's why I kept my distance.

His trade name used to be
Arthur Earl.

This lot all come
out of his suitcase.

I only employed him
on an occasional basis.

He's a journalist
copyist. He's in great demand.

He's made a note
of the measurements.

CAMPION: Well,
he's a good craftsman.

In medieval times,
he would have spent his life

ornamenting our
great cathedrals.

And you think
he was going to make
a substitute chalice?

I'm sure that was the plan.

Work the switch
and bank on nobody noticing
the difference

until the genuine chalice
was out of the country.

That's what he been fixing
with Natty Johnson
at the boozer.

They're all minnows,
Natty Johnson, Arthur Earl.

There's no sign of the trout.

A trout called George?

Exactly.

Maybe that's him.

CAMPION: Who?

Funny old trout
having a dekko.

I know who that is.

You're asking me,
that is your trout
called George.

PENNY: That's Beth's father.

Professor Gardner Cairey.

He isn't a thief.

He's an archaeologist
and a historian.

That don't rule him out.

I've known some
deadly professors in my time.

Mr Lugg, don't you have
room in your heart
for a little tolerance?

I leave all that to him.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I promised the butler
I'd give him a helping hand.

With the family silver.

-What do you think?
-About what?

About Professor Cairey?

I think he has
a very charming daughter.

(BELL TOLLING)

Good!

We've now consulted
half the population
of the village

on the cause of death.

What did the public bar
have to say?

Murdered, by gypsies.

The saloon shared that view.

They all spy the devil.
A most horrible beast.

How about drink, and or drugs,
and or bad temper?

You'd have none of those.

Did anyone agree
with the doctor,
natural causes?

Not in the public.

Nor in the saloon.

They reckon that doctor's
on the pay of the family.

What is your considered view?

Pick any prize
in the store.

No question.
The horrible beast.

Gotta be the
odds-on favourite.

Visitors.

Tourists on horseback.

Day after the funeral?

Not quite the article.
Do you reckon
they're the best of sorts?

-Not quite the article.
-(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Albert, can you come
to the rescue?

Someone drowning?

Lugg, pop upstairs
and launch the lifeboat.
There's a good chap.

Doesn't make me laugh.
Does it make you laugh?

There's a dreadful woman
called Mrs Dick Shannon
outside.

-She's insisting
on seeing the chalice!
-Good.

I'd quite like
to look at it, myself.

Oh, Mrs Shannon, this is
a young friend of Val's,
Mr Campion.

Mr Albert Campion.

Major King.

And Mr Horace Putnam.

Now, Penny Gyrth,

the guidebook says
the chapel's open to visitors
on Thursdays.

It's Thursday today.

And Mr Putnam
leaves the area tomorrow.

The chalice is veiled.

It always is, for 10 days.

For 10 days after a death.

Then unveil it.

It might be quicker
in the long run.

Fetch the keys, Val.

Immediately after a death
occurs in the family

the chalice is veiled.

Is there another key
to unlock the grill?

Of course.

You really are
a damn nuisance.

I'm missing a day's racing
for this.

Very impressive.

Do you play this joke
on all your visitors?

I must apologise.

Especially to Mr Putnam.

I'd quite forgotten,
the chalice is away
being cleaned.

It seemed an opportune moment.

Perhaps the next time
you're in the area.

Where are the keys kept?

In my desk.

And who knows that?

Just the immediate family.

BRANCH: And me, sir.

Thought I'd better say it,

since you're bound to be
thinking it.

Well, I wouldn't dream
of accusing you!

Can't you send for the
Chief Constable?
Isn't he a friend of yours?

I'm not calling in the police.
Or the Chief Constable.

We've got to solve
this ourselves.

Fancy a stroll before bed?

I'm not strolling nowhere.

You may be right.

Can you give me a lift?
It's rather urgent.

Certainly.

PENNY: Where can we drop you?

CAMPION: Where are you going?

BETH: We're having
a girls day out in London.

CAMPION: Perfect.
I'll join you.

Forgive me being
personal and direct,

but are you planning
to ride with us
all the way to London?

Either that,
or take me to the nearest
police station.

What are you talking about?

This suitcase. May I open it?

I seem to have mislaid
my liberty bodice,

and it's been in the family
for centuries.

Don't touch it. Please!

Leave it alone.

This is a gun.

And as soon as I've read
the instruction leaflet,
I won't hesitate to use it.

You might have guessed
what's in the case.

No.

No, this definitely isn't
my liberty bodice.

There's a little pub
just outside of Coggeshall.

I'm meeting
my associate there.

(CAR DOOR CLOSES)

Are you his associate?

Afraid so, sorry.

It wasn't very difficult,
was it?

It was obvious the chapel
hadn't been burgled.

Ergo, it was opened
with a key.

Ergo, it must have been
you two. Or three.

I couldn't see your father
or Branch pulling a stunt
like that.

All right, if you
know everything,

tell us where we were
taking the chalice.

At a wild guess,
the Chancery Lane
safe deposit.

So, you're going to
point your gun at us

and make us
take it home again.

I think we should split up.

Penny, you and I will take
the precious suitcase
in your car...

-And we'll ride shotgun.
-PENNY: You'll what?

Are you prepared
to ride shotgun with me?

Well, I have no idea
what it means.

So yes, I expect so.

PENNY: What do you expect
to happen?

Probably an armed attack
in broad daylight.
Just routine, sir.

You've been conspiring
with Albert
behind my back...

Where else could he
possibly conspire?

Come along, I'm sure
they're expecting us.

-(SHOUTING OVER THE ENGINE)
Shouldn't you slow down?
-Why?

I want to give the chap
a run for his money.

Which chap?

That one.

Hang on tight!

(BRAKES SCREECHING)

Where is it?

I'm sorry,
I don't wish to subscribe.
I'm not a music lover.

There's nothing in the front.

This case weighs a tonne.

Er, don't take that!
It's got our sandwiches
in it.

Come on, we should copy it.

Right. Scarper.

Well, I think
that went rather well,
don't you?

Oh, my Lord.

(SOBBING)

There, there.

(CAR PULLING UP)

Having a spot of bother,
governor?

Seems to be
clearing up nicely, ta.

Is this the missus?

Yeah, this is the old lady.

Have you got the doings?

I should say so.

Lemon time's over.

Time for the second half.

VAL: How many of the gangsters
did you identify?

Well, Natty Johnson
put a gun to my head.
But we knew about him.

The one who took the suitcase
was Fingers Hawkins,

a known associate
of a man called Sanderson,
also known as Horace Putnam.

The chap who was so keen
to see the chalice yesterday.

So, we know
a lot of the names.

And here are yet more names
to confuse you.

When we get to London,
we're going to visit
Mr Melchizadek of Oldgate.

Are we?

We could visit Mr Oldgate
at Melchizadek,
but London's nearer.

(CHUCKLES)

Tell me, Val, how far back
does the chalice date?

Oh, impossible to say.
It's certainly pre-conquest.

It's over 1,000 years old.

So it's worth going to
a bit of trouble.

He may call me
Christopher Twelvetrees.

But since Campion's
a pseudonym, anyway,
try not to let it confuse you.

If you'll come in
to my office, Mr Twelvetrees,

we'll not be
overheard or interrupted.

Well now, you wish me
to make a copy, perhaps.

Perhaps of
a very famous chalice.

Taking the long road, perhaps.

No.

I have too many clients
to follow any road but my own.

Thank Heaven for that.

This is going to be
a delightful experience
for me, Mr Gyrth.

In the last 200 years,
we've been privileged
to handle many treasures.

But, even so this...

This...

...is a memorable occasion.

CAMPION: Pre-conquest.
Over 1,000 years old.

Mmm-hmm.

A-ha.

(CHUCKLES)

It's exquisite.

The workmanship's magnificent.

But it's not medieval.

-Not medieval?
-CAMPION: Hang on a bit.

But I don't understand!

I wonder, if you would
allow me to ask
for a second opinion.

Quite by chance,
I happen to have
in the next room

one of the most famous experts
on this subject in the world.

What do you think?

You may rely on his discretion
as you would upon mine.

Good.

Campion, is this
another fairy story?

Probably.

But they usually have
happy endings.

But how can you
guarantee that...

Professor Gardner Cairey.

Mr Gyrth,
Mr Christopher Twelvetrees.

PROFESSOR CAIREY:
The design is Renaissance.

The workmanship much later.

I'd say about 150 years old.

If you'll permit me,
I think I can prove that
to you.

Mmm-hmm.

(HUMMING)

I-M.

Israel Melchizadek.

1772.

VAL: 1772?

This was made by
my great, great grandfather.

He invariably signed
every piece that he made,
although, at times,

it was necessary for him
to do so

where it would not be seen
by the casual observer.

But this is what
we have always believed
to be the Gyrth Chalice!

CAMPION: Therefore, it is what
the world believes
to be the Gyrth Chalice.

And we must hang on to it
like a pair of bull pups.

The truth is, Val,
I had my doubts
about the chalice,

from the moment I saw
that photograph.

Therefore, I consulted
my old friend,
Professor Cairey.

Your old friend?

I rarely tell lies, but...

I'm sometimes a bit picky
with the truth.

PROFESSOR CAIREY:
I told Albert my theory.

What you have there,
is what might be called
a mock chalice.

Historically speaking,
there's never been a shortage
of marauders

in the land
to the south of
Hadrian's Wall.

The real Chalice
has always been kept

in the background,
hidden away,

while the show-piece
took its place

to appease
nosy parkers and the thieves,
and Thursday sightseers.

Well, if this is
a mock chalice,

why don't we just
let the thieves have it,

get your man
to make a replica
and forget the whole business?

Because, the thieves
will discover
it isn't the real thing.

Just as we have.

They can afford
the best professional advice.

Or, at least, the second best
professional advice.

They will want the real thing.

But where is
the real Chalice?

As an outsider,
I would suggest

that the point will be made
quite clear to you
on your 25th birthday.

Oh, the room
in the East tower.

I would further suggest,
that the real Chalice,

which is made of
English red gold,

and is probably
little bigger
than a man's cupped hand,

has a very terrible
and effective guardian.

Oh, my God!

(THEME SONG PLAYING)