Original subtitles

MAN: It's an odd contrast, isn't it?

When I was there, the whole country was teeming with fanatics.

I remember a battle in Pyongyang, Hill 41,

where hundreds of them were killed for no military purpose.

It was quite senseless.

It was typical...typical.

There will be a film documentary here, after the book.

You'd know more about that than me. I just want the bloody thing published.

- Are the, uh, films helping? - Huh?

The films.

Oh, yes, yes, very good forjogging the old memory.

Yes.

Don't forget to keep looking for more personal photographs.

- The book will need plenty of them. - Right. Hmm.

Oh, incidentally, I've had a rather good idea for the title.

Yeah?

How about The Village?

No...

It hasn't got enough...punch, you know?

But we'll think of something. Don't worry.

No, no. Er...yes. Um...

Edith? Edith?

(KETTLE WHISTLES)

Oh, are you going, Mr Morton?

Yeah, well, he's had enough for one day.

- I was going to offer you some tea. - Oh, thanks, but I'd like to get away.

Go through today's stuff. Make some notes.

Let's talk about Kinthly tomorrow, shall we?

- You can fill me in on his character. - Fine, fine. Yes, um...

Look...I'll drive you into town.

Oh, I enjoy the bus, thanks.

Gives me a chance to look at your island.

Usual time in the morning?

No, make it later, will you? 9.30 or so.

The morning tide's just right for a spot of fishing.

Unless you'd like to come with me?

Oh! No, thanks, Major. No, I'll come and chat Edith up.

Find out what kind of fanatic you are while your back's turned.

Good night, Mrs Furneaux.

Good night, Mr Morton.

Yes. Yes.

Come on, Edith.

I don't know if I trust that young man.

The publishers wouldn't have sent him if he wasn't reliable.

- How reliable are they? - Oh, look, don't start again, Edith.

- It's boring! - I know we need the money.

But I wish you weren't going on with this.

Oh, bloody hell.

We wouldn't have so many debts if you did less drinking.

Look, when you understand what you're talking about, we'll discuss it.

(STEADY BEEPING)

What are you doing? Who are you?

You sent for us. Sergeant Bergerac.

Well, you've no business just walking in here like this.

The man's critically ill.

Yeah, I can see that.

What happened?

He was found on the rocks unconscious.

He's had a severe blow on the back of his head.

Don't touch him, please.

- Do you know who he is? - No.

Why didn't you call in the local police? Why call in the Bureau?

This was the only thing we found on him.

Hotel key. That makes him a visitor, wouldn't you think?

You missed your vocation, Sister.

Perhaps we ought to swap jobs, Jim.

Don't you recognise me? We were at school together. St Mark's.

- Nancy Phillips?! - As was.

Good God! Ooh, I'm sorry!

What will happen now?

I'll chase this up. What are his chances?

Too soon to tell. Depends how long he remains like this.

- Let me know if there's any change. - Yes.

It was nice to see you again...Nancy.

Bye.

He's Australian, I think. Lives in London somewhere.

We'll have his address downstairs.

Name of Morton, Stanley Morton.

Doesn't look as though he's here on holiday, does it?

No, I don't think he is.

He goes out at 8.00 every morning and comes back about 6.00, 6.30.

He has a few drinks, has dinner,

then sits up typing half the night.

- Typing? - Mmm.

Perhaps he's a salesman, typing out orders for his firm.

No idea. He doesn't use the basket.

You like to play cops, too, do you?

Well, quite honestly, the staff have been a little mystified.

They know he types because there have been complaints.

But there's no evidence.

He presumably puts it all in his briefcase.

His what? His briefcase?

Mm, never without it.

Well, he was without it when they found him.

Have you checked Fleet Street? And he's not in the papers?

(SHOUTS) What does he write, then?

What sort of books?

Yeah, if you would, please. Thanks.

I don't know. Anything...

I said anything you can find! We haven't anything over here.

Not even a letter. Yes. Thanks!

- Frankie? - Good morning.

Have you been here all night?

- What a waste! - What?

I said what a waste.

You could have been downstairs, in bed with me.

They need this urgently.

I'll go get some coffee.

I should think they could hear your phone call in Guernsey.

It was London - bad line.

(SHOUTS) You have to shout at foreigners, otherwise they don't understand!

Pardon?

- Isn't it finished? - No.

I'm not happy with the nose.

Looks all right to me.

I'll have to finish it today in his office.

What's all the rush?

It's for a presentation tonight. He's retiring.

- Do you have to be there? - No.

- I'll see you for a meal in the Barge? - I'll try.

Listen, could you do me a favour?

Can you pop into the library, see if they've got any books by Stanley Morton?

- What? - Books by Stanley Morton...

(LOUDLY) Have you got any charcoal?

- Stanley... - Jim!

...Morton.

I don't know if I'll have time.

Oh, come on, the Jurat's office is right next door to the library!

- Well, if I can. - Thanks.

Where's Stanley?

He's not here yet.

Mullet. The best I could do.

Well-cooked, best there is.

I thought you might have met him somewhere.

How the hell could I meet him? I've been fishing, haven't I?

You don't always do what you say you're going to do.

You heard me last night. I said 9.30 quite clearly.

Ah, yes. I...I'd like to speak to Mr Morton, please.

Stanley Morton.

I'm afraid Mr Morton's in hospital.

He was attacked last night in the town.

Whoever uses it smokes, a light strawberry jam.

Doesn't clean the typeface, either, and he's none too gentle a touch.

- Sorry. Oh, hello, Joe. - Hello.

Oh, the ribbon will tell you more. It's quite new.

It's been typed over two or three times,

but you can read the odd letter, even the occasional word.

Where?

''Korea'', for starters.

- I can't see that. - Years of training.

Oh, yeah. Is there anything else?

''Guns''. ''Attack''.

Oh, and a name. It could be ''Furnell'', though I'm not certain.

I hope nobody tries reading my ribbons!

- What would they find, love? - Never you mind!

The hospital says he's still unconscious. It could be days.

Gerald, will you give up the book now, then?

Of course not!

I mean, if the worst comes to the worst,

we'll get a new ghost writer, or whatever.

It's no good looking like that.

Look, Edith, I've got a contract and a date to meet.

If you were sensible...

Oh, bloody dear darling, have a cup of tea and take a Valium or something.

As there's no work to be done, I shall go out for an hour or so.

- Is the water hot? - Not very.

Could it be ''Furneaux''?

- Is that an F there? - Yes, F...

- U... - U...

- R... - N, there.

U...

There's a Major Furneaux, Mayan Cottage, Portelet Bay.

- It's Oriental, isn't it? - Yes.

It's Gerald's.

Where did he get it? Korea?

Uh, yes, I...I think he did.

I wanted to talk to him about a man called Stanley Morton.

Oh?

You don't know him, do you?

Oh, I'm...I'm terribly bad at names, I'm afraid.

Mm-hm. He seemed to know yours quite well.

Well enough to type it, Mrs Furneaux.

Ah, greenfly! Hmm?

Ah, yes, I think Gerald did mention his name, yes.

Where can I find the Major?

Mrs Furneaux?

Well, you might find him at the yacht club.

Thank you very much.

Twin screws, diesel. The more horsepower I've got, the happier I feel.

I never was much of a canvas man, myself.

Yes, but there's less skill involved, Hungerford. That's the point.

Damn sight more time for drinking Scotch, though, eh?

Oh.

There's a small parcel for you, sir, at reception. Just been delivered.

- What, for me? - Yes, sir.

Lucky fellow. Nobody leaves me any parcels nowadays!

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

I'd better go and see what it's about.

- £1 .20, sir. - Yes.

Um, yes, yes.

- All right, Harry. Put it on my bill. - Thank you, sir.

MAN ON TAPE: I have destroyed all your tapes and the notes your friend has made.

Let's hope that's the end of it, Furneaux.

- Evening, Major. - Hmm?

Oh, hello. Hi.

Who let you in, then?

- Just mentioned your name, Charlie. - Aye. Opens all doors.

I was told you were with a Major Furneaux.

The Major? Aye, I'm surprised you didn't bump into him.

He's just gone off to reception to collect something.

Furneaux a friend of yours, is he?

Well, he buys me a drink, now and then,

so long as I pay for it myself.

I must remember to not let him buy me one.

He's not in trouble with your lot, is he?

We can't have that kind of thing, you know. It drags the club down.

But you're a member, Charlie.

On the committee, Jim. On the committee.

- That's what I mean. - Eh?

See you, Charlie.

Good morning, sir.

Oh, God!

RECEPTIONIST: If you park at the weighbridge, actually,

then you can walk through the tunnel, and it's...

You have a room for a Mr Hedley Cross. I am he.

Would you book me a table somewhere where I can get a decent meal?

Not here, I think.

I shall...er...be in the bar.

And what's Mr Morton doing in Jersey, Major?

- We're writing a book together. - Oh, yeah?

- What sort of book is that? - Well, it's a war story.

Soldiers under fire in Korea. That sort of thing.

- Based on your experiences? - Yes.

- Yes, he's a...ghost writer. - You know he was attacked yesterday?

Yes, yes. We had an appointment this morning.

And when he didn't turn up, I telephoned the hotel.

- We think he might have been robbed. - Oh, really?

- There's a briefcase gone missing. - Hmm.

- Any idea what might have been in that? - No, none at all.

- Did you see him yesterday? - Hmm?

Well, he left the cottage about 5.30 or so.

- With the case? - Yes. Yes.

And you were working together all day yesterday?

Yes, we were. Yes.

So he must have had his notes with him at least.

Presumably, yes.

Well, look, I've got to go now. The wife will be wondering. She worries.

Does Morton carry a lot of cash with him?

How the hell should I know?

And your relationship was purely professional, was it?

Of course it was! That's a bloody strange question, anyway.

- It's a strange business, Major. - Yes, yes.

Yes, yes. Yes, well, I've got to go now.

I'm afraid it's quite impossible. Mr Morton is still unconscious.

For how much longer?

That's something the doctors can't predict.

Another grey area of medical science.

I'm staying at the Hotel Pontac.

Perhaps you'd be kind enough to inform me when the unpredictable occurs.

Hello, sailor!

Hmm? What?

How well do you know Major Furneaux, Charlie?

- Well, we've not got a lot in common. - Nothing at all, I'd have said.

Very good basis for a friendship, that, Jim. Nothing to argue about.

Oh! Come aboard(!)

Well, what's he been up to, then?

He's writing a book.

- (LAUGHS) He's doing what?! - Well, why not?

Well, he's very good at dashing off IOUs

and writing long letters explaining why he can't pay his yacht club dues.

I've never seen him as an author!

Well, we all have our secret life, Charlie. Where were you in the war?

I did my bit.

Regimental barracks at Aberystwyth, wasn't it?

Two bloody years in North Africa, and don't you forget it!

Lance Corporal, flogging army stuff to the Bedouins?

Quartermaster Sergeant!

If you want to be offensive, Jim, do it on your own doorstep!

Anyway, it were all perfectly genuine equipment, surplus to requirement.

I wondered if he was another one - pretending to be someone he isn't.

Not so far as I know. He served in Korea.

Spent a couple of years as a prisoner of war.

What do you mean, ''pretend''?!

You know, it's a pity they ever did away with National Service.

A spell in the Army would have done people like you a lot of good!

- Thanks, Charlie. - You're welcome!

I have destroyed all your tapes and notes your friend has made.

Let's hope that's the end of it, Furneaux.

- That's all. - And you've no idea who it is?

Well, of course I bloody haven't!

I'm frightened, Gerald, and stop swearing.

They said they'd stop you and they mean it!

Nobody's going to stop me.

I've decided on my plan of campaign and I'm sticking to it.

Yes, well, you don't need any more of that.

Oh, please, Gerald, you've had enough!

(DOOR OPENS)

Sorry.

I just wondered if you'd got them.

- What? - The books.

I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir.

Sergeant Bergerac.

Go away, Jim. I'm busy.

Uh...shall I...take a little break?

No, we're just almost finished.

I thought I could pick them up myself if you tell me where they are.

- They're in the car. - Where is it?

- Jim, will you get out, please?! - Oh, sorry.

- Will it come off? - (CHUCKLES)

What books are you after, Sergeant?

A writer called Morton, sir.

- Stanley Morton? - Yeah.

I wondered what his name was doing on the back of my picture.

(FRANKIE SIGHS)

I wondered what kind of stuff he writes.

Trash, if the thing I read is anything to go by.

Stalemate At Tripoli - fat lot Morton knew about it. I was there.

- War book, is it? - Oh, yes.

Supposed to be full of penetrating political insights.

Sorry.

The man's a muckraker.

Talked about Montgomery as if he was some kind of ballet dancer.

- You just read that one book? - Jim, ten minutes!

- But he's got some information... - OK?

(MUFFLED SHOUTS)

(GUNFIRE)

(CRIES)

(LAWNMOWER SOUNDS LIKE GUNFIRE)

(GUNFIRE)

(ARTILLERY FIRE)

(ARTILLERY FIRE CONTINUES)

(TELEPHONE RINGS)

(TELEPHONE CONTINUES RINGING)

I hope you've got the message, Major.

Now, you listen to me and get this into your head.

You can destroy as many tapes as you like, and you can destroy all the notes,

but you can't destroy my memory!

Because I...I know what happened,

so you can go to hell, whoever you are!

I'll finish the book and it will be published!

It's all they had in.

There's a couple of novels missing and a book on a trial.

Scandal - Montgomery Thorne MP!

''The tragic story of a man ruined by women''!

I can think of a few men I'd like to ruin.

I can think of a few women I'd like to be ruined by!

- Who is Furneaux? - Furneaux? He's a retired army major.

They're collaborating - writing a book on Korea, I think.

But what about Korea, I don't know.

- It's a way of making money. - It's a way of getting clobbered, too.

Anyway, thanks for getting the books. And I'm sorry about all the fuss.

But you got your picture done, didn't you?

- No thanks to you, Jim. - I'm sorry.

I've got a life of my own, you know.

Don't start taking me for granted. I'd hate that.

Bastards! Look at this!

Yeah, I know. The harbour master phoned through.

My dad was a fisherman.

Bloody people! I don't understand people these days!

I mean, who'd do a thing like this?! Hmm?

Maybe for the same reason that Stanley Morton was attacked.

Don't be stupid.

Look, Major, who are you throwing the muck at?

What?

- Is it someone important? - What?

Is it someone important?

Look, Bergerac, your attitude is uncalled for and intrusive.

I have nothing further to say.

MAN: Cropley.

- Sir. - Good flight?

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

You're looking fit. Still boxing, are we?

Not now, sir. I still do a bit of weightlifting.

Good man. This way.

Anything I can do, sir, I'll only be too pleased to help.

Yes. Well, the first thing is you'll hire a motorbike.

Mr Cross?

Bureau des Étrangers. Office of Strangers.

How very Kafka.

Could you tell me what your interest is in Stanley Morton?

Have I an interest in him?

Well, according to the hospital, you have, yes.

Well, you may certainly ask, but I have no intention of telling you.

- You're a publisher, aren't you? - Mmm.

- And Stanley Morton is a writer. - He is.

How did you know he was in hospital?

I don't think I'll answer that question.

He was over here to write a book with Major Furneaux.

- Oh, yes? - Oh, yes.

And he ended up in hospital because of that book. Is that right?

I'm not going to answer that question, either, Sergeant.

Thank you very much for your co-operation.

I'm sure we'll meet again.

How did you hear about it, then?

Well, there are not many secrets on the island, Major. You know that.

I must say, you're a dark horse and no mistake.

Yes, well, listen, I'd be glad if you'd, uh..

I'd be glad if you'd keep it to yourself.

Um, low-profile stuff. You know what I mean?

- You know what I mean? - Aye. Same sort of thing in business.

Precisely! Precisely, yes.

You can't afford to let too many cats out of the bag.

No.

Ah! Two large ambers. Here we are.

Thank you. Cheers.

(CHUCKLES)

(MUTTERS)

All right, I'll see to it.

Well, I'll get the next one.

- Right? - Yeah, right.

- Right? - Right.

I'd like you to remember I made him a considerable advance.

I am expecting a decent return on the investment,

or the return of my £6,000.

We wouldn't want to end in court, would we, over a breach of contract?

No.

I'm going back to London tomorrow.

Tell him I'll see him first thing in the morning.

We must discuss the position

and think of a replacement for the unfortunate Morton.

I thought perhaps you...

I thought you might wait a few months.

Whatever for?

I hope your husband doesn't have too bad a hangover.

Good.

We could do with some blood.

(CROPLEY SNIFFS)

- How does it feel? - It's not too bad, sir.

I made quite a good job of you, didn't I?

Right...

It's up to you now.

You shouldn't have to wait too long before someone comes to your aid.

If you had any sense at all,

you'll tell him that you don't want to go on with it.

- Oh, bloody dear... - I don't expect you to listen to me!

- I've got to go on! - You could give Cross his money back!

Or have you drunk it all already?

There are too many principles at stake.

Principles(!)

Principles? Have you got any?

Society has a right to know the truth.

At any cost?

Oh, Gerald!

Right.

(KNOCKS ON DOOR)

- Yes? - Major?

- Crozier. - I'd like a word with you.

He tried to bribe me!

Said he was an army officer and it wouldn't do his reputation any good

if he got done for drunken driving.

Oh, no, no, no.

Look, Inspector, this man is lying.

I don't know why.

But I can tell you that I've never met him before in my life,

let alone spoken to him.

He offered me 20 quid!

Major, you've seen the damage to your vehicle.

How do you explain it?

Well, I can't.

But I can tell you that I was not in collision

with anyone or anything last night.

Ah, Sergeant.

There's been a bit of a mix-up. Perhaps you can help.

- Sergeant Bergerac is not involved. - But he knows me.

He cannot interfere!

But I'm not asking for interference. I'm asking for assistance.

CROZIER: OK, Charlotte. Chris.

You'll be kept here until a centenier has charged you, Major.

Then we'll see.

Oh, bloody dear.

You're suddenly in a damn great hurry, aren't you? Hmm?

Major Furneaux, you've had all night to think about it.

I suggest you stop bleating like some hurt schoolboy!

Now, let's get on with it, shall we?

Look, young lady, I wish it to be put on record

that I object most violently to this.

Yes. Yes.

Yes.

You'll want me back for a hearing?

Yes, but that won't be for a week or two, Mr Cropley.

- We'll let you know. - Yeah, all right.

I hope your holiday's not a total write-off.

I was going home anyway.

Get those typed up for me, Charlotte, please.

What's going on?

Your friend the Major ran him down last night.

- He what? - Drunk.

He reminded me of you in your days of glory.

Thank you, Barney. Has he admitted it?

There's no argument. I've seen the Land Rover and I brought Furneaux in myself.

- He could hardly stand. - Can I talk to him?

Out of the question, Jim.

Too many things have happened to that man.

I said no.

Can I read Cropley's statement?

I can't stop you, but you'd be wasting your time.

Bureau des Étrangers?

Furneaux's guilty. There's no question. And he has only himself to blame.

- CHARLOTTE: Jim, excuse me? - Yeah?

It's the hospital. Stanley Morton just died.

(INAUDIBLE CONVERSATION)

I can't help your husband, Mrs Furneaux. It's not my case.

- And it will have to be in the papers? - Yeah.

When it gets into court.

Look, it's about time I knew the truth.

Morton. Tell me about Morton, please, now.

He was working on a book with Gerald. It was all very confidential.

Not confidential enough, maybe.

That was Mr Cross' fault! Somebody at the office...

Go on, go on.

Well, I...I don't know the details.

But you know enough to be scared, don't you?

What of? Who is it? Who's got it in for him?

- Gerald just won't listen! - Listen to what?

Look, I have to know about the book, Mrs Furneaux!

There's already been one death.

How many more has there got to be before someone tells me what is going on?

I...I think you'd better talk to Mr Cross.

Furneaux was in a scouting party led by a Captain Kinthly.

There was reason to believe that snipers were hiding

in a Korean village they entered during one patrol.

The inhabitants of the village - mainly old men, women, children - denied it.

Kinthly got angry, said he didn't believe them,

ordered his men to shoot.

They refused.

So he grabbed a weapon and did the job himself.

Killed all of them, including a young woman with babe in arms.

Captain Kinthly later became General Sir John Kinthly MC MP,

staunch flag-waver.

Anyway, as they left the village, the party was ambushed,

all but Kinthly taken prisoner.

Most died later in the camps.

By the time Furneaux got back to England,

Kinthly was a hero with a political career.

There was very little he could do without appearing spiteful or malicious.

So what's changed?

- Kinthly is dead. - So why tell the story now?

I mean, you can't hurt dead men.

More to the point, they can't hurt you.

It's a good sales proposition.

Especially now there's less threat of libel action.

Someone's trying to stop the book.

Yes.

I'm afraid, until now, I've rather ignored all that.

But you knew something was going on, didn't you?

I knew the Colonel had seen him.

- The Colonel? - From his old regiment.

He came over here two or three months ago, ordering him not to publish.

Didn't you take it seriously?

He's hardly under orders these days.

Do you want the menu, Jim?

No, thanks, Lil. I've got a plane to catch.

Well, if it's the four o'clock, I'll see you on it.

Won't that be fun(?)

Sergeant Bergerac, sir.

Thank you very much for seeing me, Colonel.

You've come at an awkward moment. We're about to go in to dinner.

- However, we'll do what we can. - I'm sorry. It won't take long.

It's to do with Major Furneaux, I understand.

Yeah, yeah. It's about a book he's writing.

Yes. Pity about that. Quite undesirable exercise, in my opinion.

If I may, sir?

The man's a heavy drinker, Sergeant.

He's given to flights of alcoholic fancy.

One has to be charitable, Buxton. He was a prisoner-of-war for two years.

That doesn't give him the licence to destroy a senior officer's good name.

Or, come to that, the name of the regiment.

As you can see, there's no high opinion of the Major in this mess.

Furneaux was a remarkably dull soldier, Bergerac.

An almost complete failure as an officer.

That soured him.

That and his treatment in the prison camp.

So his story about Sir John was...

A pack of lies from beginning to end.

The product of a sick mind, I'm sorry to say.

Why did you go to Jersey to lean on him?

For his own sake.

We're very proud of the regiment, Sergeant.

We don't like people trying to discredit it.

Neither do we like to see people discredit themselves. It reflects badly.

ORDERLY: Will you taste the wine, sir?

I doubt if I can help any further.

Major Furneaux is not the most fascinating subject in the world.

Good journey to you.

Thank you...very much.

To absent friends.

Orderly? Show the Sergeant out, will you?

Yes, sir.

That's General Sir John Kinthly, sir. A fine man.

Oh, yeah?

- Sir? - Oh, thanks.

- Good night. - Good night.

Orderly?

Who's that?

(ENGINE NOISE DROWNS SPEECH)

Mr Cropley?

I know who you are. How did you find me?

Through your statement.

So what's up? Brought the case forward, have they?

- No, it's changed. - Yeah?

Says he's guilty now, does he?

No. But then, he isn't, is he?

Come again?

I said, he isn't guilty. I think we'd better have a quiet chat, don't you?

Now, listen, copper, I don't know what your game is

but you can get stuffed, right?!

That bloke tried to run me down and I'm gonna 'ave him!

You can try.

But I'm gonna have to tell the court what really happened.

But I know what really happened.

- I was there! - You faked that collision.

You fixed the blood and the dents and everything else.

- Didn't you? - You're bananas!

Who messed up your face?

Was it that fellow I saw you with by the taxi, outside the Bureau des Étrangers?

You're breaking my arm!

You let that lunatic beat you up, didn't you? What for? Money?

Aaagh!

All right! All right!

Look, you don't say no to 'im.

He's a maniac. He's known for it!

He's a killer. He'll kill your man, if he hasn't already.

Gerald was released from the Bureau last night, Mr Bergerac.

You've only just missed him.

Tell me where he is, please. It's very important.

- Has something happened? - Just tell me where he is.

Everything's all right.

Look, there's someone on the island. I've got to find him.

Mr Cross has got the tapes and papers back.

Everything's sorted out. He sent a note round this morning.

Gerald has just gone round to collect them.

Mr Cross went back to London with me yesterday.

- Look, who the hell are you, anyway? - Keep moving.

I said, who are you?

- My name's Kinthly. - Huh?

Captain Peter Kinthly.

Oh, I might have known!

I didn't think the regiment would sink to murdering their own.

Or was it your idea? Is it your father's blood coming out?

No, no, no. You misunderstand. It won't be murder in the eyes of the police.

They'll find you with the gun in your hand.

No prospects, no money, a court case coming up.

They'll say it was no wonder you blew your brains out.

What the hell do you want, anyway?

If you kill me, you'll draw even more attention to the story.

There'll be no story, Furneaux...

...with you dead.

Do you know what my father used to call you? Hmm?

Fur...nothing.

He knew what you were, just as everyone else did.

A nothing. A nobody.

BERGERAC: Drop the gun, Kinthly.

Kinthly!

How do you want it?

Slowly? Kneecaps first, hmm?

BERGERAC: Give me the gun, Major.

Yes.

Yes, yes.

I wasn't going to shoot him.

He's got too much to answer for, haven't you?

All right, all right. Clever boy.

Bloody hell, darling!

Yes, well, now, perhaps, I can finish the book in peace and quiet.

It'll make you a lot more enemies!

- It'll make a lot more money. - Money?

Well, it helps! Doesn't it?

Come along.