Original subtitles

- Oliver Twist. ROBERT: That's right.

The gilt lettering caught the light.

He looked up from his grandfather's body and saw it.

He had to invent a name, someone for the old man to have spent the night with.

He thought of Oliver.

I may not be an intellectual chap - it's all the go to sneer at the regular army these days -

but I always said you can learn a lot from books.

But Mr Oliver must exist. He's had you chasing all over Europe.

Yes, that's right. Paris to Rome, Rome to Vienna, on to Berlin -

there's a hell of a place - and Oliver and the detective just in front of me.

- I didn't know what was going on. - No. That was my Mr Oliver.

- Eh? - He don't exist either.

I thought it was time that someone else was led up the garden.

- I was paying the detective, after all. - But why?

I wanted you out of the country in case you changed your mind about the exhumation.

Well, joke on me. Damn good, Wimsey.

You don't deny that you invented this Mr Oliver in the first place?

- I don't deny anything. - Oh, I would deny something.

I saw the old man that night, in here, sitting in this chair.

He told me about the money, said he was worried about poor old George.

I tried to persuade him that George was a good sort of fellow.

But he more or less threw me out.

Said he wanted to work on some figures.

Wanted peace and quiet.

When I came back an hour later, he was dead.

"Good God," I thought, "what rotten luck."

I didn't see why that damn Dorland woman should get the lot,

so I popped him in the telephone cabinet.

- Telephone cabinet? - Yeah.

This one, out here.

I brought him out again in the morning and nobody noticed a thing.

It was a damned good stunt while it lasted.

Fraud is a penal offence. You could go to prison - and you should.

Don't be silly. You're my solicitor. You must keep me out.

Anyway, there are more serious penal offences than fraud.

- What? - Such as murder, for instance.

I've had an advance copy of the postmortem report.

Your grandfather was poisoned.

Poisoned?

But Penberthy gave a certificate. "Heart failure."

The General's heart was weak, notoriously.

Yes, one can't blame Penberthy. The poison used was digitalis.

It slows down the heart's actions.

The symptoms of a heart attack would have been there.

- However, it alters Fentiman's position. - Yes.

How?

- You ain't a suspect. - What?

It was in your interests to keep the old man alive, not to kill him.

So we must ask ourselves in whose interest it was

that the General should die before his sister.

I knew there was something rotten about that damned Dorland woman.

Damned?

One can't be sure about that.

It's a possibility.

# The Sheik of Araby

# I'd give my heart to thee

# At night when you're asleep

# Into your tent I'll creep

# And... - What do you know...

- Yes? - ..about Ann Dorland?

- She's unhappy. - Yes?

I don't think she cares for you. I didn't know she knew you.

She knows of me and she don't care much for that, I imagine.

What do you know of her?

She's lonely, upset and probably in love.

Not with you, obviously, if she only knows of.

Certainly not with me.

- In love? - She's been in love once before - sort of in love.

- It turned out rather badly. - Mm-hm. Being in love usually does.

- Does it? - Consequently, I am rather careful to avoid it.

You sounded, for a moment, as if you hadn't always avoided it, Peter.

Tell me some more about Ann Dorland.

- Perhaps you should meet her. - I want to, but she won't meet me.

She'll probably be at the Rushworths on Friday. I'll take you. It's some sort of do.

Sounds rather odd. More like a private view than just a party.

- Except that it's glands. - Somebody been sculpting glands?

- Oh, Peter. - Painting them, then.

No, they're really glands.

In bottles? I say, I shall certainly come. Sounds just my sort of thing.

Someone talking about glands. A sort of lecture.

- But it's new. It's the latest thing. - Mm-hm.

The Rushworths are frightfully keen on the latest thing.

So there'll be lots to eat and almost certainly champagne,

and consequently all the crowd are...bound to be there.

(Chuckles)

There's another one in the cupboard for your mother.

- I thought she might like it. - She will.

How kind you are to me, Marjorie.

I should come here much more often.

Instead of just when you want some information, do you mean?

Yes, you should.

So Ann Dorland has been in love before.

About a year ago. It's long over.

One of the crowd who particularly enjoyed what he called "awakening" people.

She took him seriously.

Whoever it is she's pining for now, it's nothing to do with that.

"Men have died from time to time and the worms have eaten them.

- But not for love." - What?

- Shakespeare. - Eurgh.

You may be right she's pining.

You may be wrong.

- It's not for love. - What, then?

Remorse?

Who is this gland man, anyway?

Oh, Peter, you know what I am with names. There's a card over there.

What sort of remorse? She wasn't particularly fond of her aunt, if that's what you mean.

You don't have to feel fond of someone to feel remorse when they die.

- I say, how very odd. - You do jump about.

- The gland man - Dr Penberthy - I know him. - Yes?

I thought hearts were his interest, not glands.

Peter, that's obvious. It's the same thing.

If you keep people young with monkey glands, they won't die of heart failure.

Sometimes I think you're not half as clever as you make out.

Not half as clever.

What shall we do next?

There's no doubt it's murder.

What's that to do with me?

I am your solicitor, Miss Dorland. I thought you should know.

I imagine the police may wish to er...

- Yes? - ..question you... to ask you questions.

What sort of questions?

General Fentiman seems to have been murd...

Poisoned.

..to have died at some time during the evening of November 10th.

- Yes? - He was here that afternoon.

Well, not here, of course, but in the house.

He came to the house.

They think I killed him? You're saying that?

- They have to investigate the circumstances. - What circumstances?

He came here to see my aunt, his sister. He saw her, they talked, he left.

What circumstances?

Did he, for instance, have anything to eat or drink while he was here?

They would want to know.

- They do think I killed him. - They must think you have a motive.

Because the General died before his sister.

Yet when he saw her here, she was already dying

and he, though old, wasn't even ill, Miss Dorland, and you...

Inherit £600,000 because he died before her. Yes.

The police are a mercenary class of person. Money is a strong motive in their eyes.

And in yours, I think, Mr Pritchard.

Yes, it was convenient for me that he died.

- And then... - Oh, there's more?

You were so very certain, so very determined not to come to a settlement.

Your instructions to me were so very precise.

As if you knew already when the General died

and that you were bound to inherit.

Inside information.

And the police, you see, will wonder why you were so certain.

I almost live in this place now.

I hardly ever go into the rest of the house.

One is bound to wonder why she was so certain.

And I am bound to wonder why you were so certain.

Now that I'm on this case officially, Peter, you will be my first suspect.

You've acted all the way along as if you knew it was murder. Why?

It was too neat, Charles. Aristotle says...

Oh, Lord. Why do I ask these questions?

Aristotle says we should always prefer the probable impossible

to the improbable possible.

It was possible that the General should have died neatly at the most confusing moment

but it wasn't very probable.

So that, although we were told that his death was due to natural causes,

it just seemed to me that it might have been stage-managed a bit.

- A bit? - Well, quite a lot, as it happens.

All that Oliver business and the hiding of the body and so on.

But when we cleared that out of the way, we were left with a curiously convenient death.

And I don't believe death is convenient, Charles, not usually.

The Dorland woman and her solicitor

were so dead against agreeing to a settlement, they must have known something.

They weren't against it when the body was to be dug up.

Exactly.

All right, then.

Let's make a list.

Now, Robert Fentiman found the old man dead

at approximately 9.00pm.

But at 3.30 that afternoon, when he went round to see his sister, he seemed as right as rain.

So...poison administered, therefore,

sometime between 3.30 and 9.00pm.

No, too quick, Charles.

The poison would have been taken between those times but it could have been given earlier.

Suppose someone dropped a poison pill into his bottle of soda mints, or whatever he took.

Peter, there are a lot of soda mints in a bottle.

He might have died weeks later. It's not very precise.

However, by all means, let us not be too quick.

Now, if he did take something like that at all regularly,

who would have had the opportunity to drop the pill in?

- There was his doctor or his manservant. - Motive?

Well, his doctor's Penberthy. I can't think of a motive for him.

His manservant stands to inherit something small.

He seemed rather a pleasant old johnny to me.

However, you must certainly write him down as a suspect.

Sinister manservants are all the go.

If you read detective stories, it's always the butler who did it.

(Groans) Dr Penberthy.

Opportunity?

Yes.

Motive?

No.

Motive and opportunity?

Sinister manservant.

Now, let's get onto someone more likely.

Ann Dorland.

Motive? Yes. Enormous.

Opportunity? Yes.

The old man was in that house that afternoon.

Uh-uh-uh, you're rushing, Charles.

It's we professionals. We like to get on with it.

And we amateurs like to take our time.

How did Ann Dorland get hold of digitalis?

Well, some proprietary medicines contain it.

Usually in combination with Nux vomica, which is supposed to be an antidote.

If the two things cancelled each other out, there'd be no point in taking the medicine.

But we can ask Dr Penberthy about the effects and availability of digitalis.

Secondly, why should Ann Dorland have provided herself with digitalis

if she had no reason to know that the General was going round there that afternoon?

Or any afternoon, for that matter,

seeing he and his sister hadn't been on speaking terms for years.

Point taken.

But Lady Dormer was dying.

What medicines were already in the house and to hand?

So Ann Dorland had motive and opportunity.

I'm going to put down "Means? Query."

I suppose Lady Dormer's servants had opportunity.

I mean, if they were in collusion.

There might have been a particularly good-looking footman or something.

So, who else have we got?

Robert.

Who is the one person we can definitely cross off.

- What? - Peter, we've decided,

he had everything to lose by his grandfather dying first.

Look at the pains he took to cover up the death.

Exactly. He's the most unlikely person. Sherlock Holmes would have suspected him.

Means? Query. Motive? Unlikely. Opportunity? Excellent.

What?

By his own admission, he was the last person to see the old man alive.

Supposing he'd had a row with him, killed him and discovered later about the legacy.

Peter, you are absolutely scintillating with good plots today.

Thank you, Charles.

Now, what about George?

Yes.

You've got a weakness about George, haven't you?

Yes, I like old George.

He's an awful pig in some ways, but...

..one understands the ways.

One even shares them.

Yes, well... I don't know George, so I'm going to firmly put him down.

Opportunity? Yes.

That ride around Regent's Park in a taxi.

Means?

Query.

Yes, query.

Motive? Weak.

- No, strong! - Hm?

He may not have stood to benefit from Lady Dormer's will,

but he did know that his grandfather was leaving him £2,000.

And he needed the money badly. Damn!

Too soft-hearted, you amateurs.

Yes, it's a fault.

Well...I gave him digitalis.

Will that satisfy you?

If that's a confession, it's surprisingly blunt.

I take it you're not confessing to murder, Doctor.

The word "murder" hasn't been mentioned.

People can be poisoned without being murdered and frequently are.

Very good, Penberthy. Very true.

Two grains were found in the body.

Did you give him as much as that?

No, I gave him a small quantity.

My nurse has the book. Your people can examine it.

And then there are the chemist's receipts,

records of what supplies of poisonous drugs I hold.

All that can be checked and should be.

Do you hold a supply of digitalis?

A high proportion of my patients are old men. Heart conditions are common.

I keep a preparation containing digitalis by me, ready made up in case of need.

And General Fentiman was a case of need?

He came to see me on the afternoon of November 10th.

He'd been to see his sister and it had upset him.

He was feeling dizzy and had difficulty with his breathing.

I gave him a small quantity of digitalis to...relieve his condition.

Would you explain the effect of digitalis to me, Doctor?

It strengthens the heart's action by retarding the beat,

so that the cavities can be completely emptied and the pressure is relieved.

You mean, to begin with, in small doses, it stimulates the heart by relieving the pressure?

But if continued with, or in larger doses - say two grains...

It would slow it down so much that it would stop altogether.

So, death from an overdose would look very much like death from heart failure?

It would be heart failure, Inspector Parker.

(Telephone rings) - Excuse me.

- Patient? - It shouldn't be. Surgery is over.

Not that that makes much difference. They treat you like a GP, these people.

Dr Penberthy.

Yes.

No, I'm afraid I can't talk at the moment. I have some people with me.

Yes, it is.

The surgery is over but I have some people with me and I can't talk.

No. No, I'm afraid I can't do Friday.

Do help yourself to a drink, Wimsey. The sherry's in the cupboard.

Yes, I will. Thank you so much for ringing.

I'm sorry. I should have offered you a drink earlier. The sun is down.

Unfortunately, Charles ain't allowed to drink on duty.

But I should like some sherry very much.

How kind of you to think of it during your telephone conversation.

One never knows how long these people are going to be.

Charles had an idea that there were some patent medicines that contain digitalis.

- Not many, I think. - Hm? Thank you.

Is it prescribed for anything other than heart conditions?

Not often - dropsy in certain circumstances.

Aconite poisoning.

I can't say I've ever come across a case of aconite poisoning.

I can't say I have, either.

Epilepsy in its various forms, epileptic rages.

And digitalis is used in these cases, is it? Epilepsy?

Maybe. As I say, it's not really my subject.

Yes, but somebody suffering from a form of epilepsy might have digitalis in his possession?

Made up in some way, yes.

But he mightn't know what it was.

CHARLES: I'm sorry. I don't follow.

The tablets, Charles. Our old friend the tablets or the mixture.

Chemists never put on the outside of the bottle what is actually inside.

So, as you say, he...just simply mightn't have known.

(Engine whines softly)

(Hums sustained notes)

Trouble is, you see, he erm...pops off.

- Pops off? - Always at it.

You make an appointment for him, with a client, to demonstrate a car...

Well, it happened yesterday. Some damn Midlands millionaire.

Some war profiteer fellow wanted to buy himself a bit of class.

Said he was a diamond in the rough and we mustn't mind his ways.

Was just the fellow for Fentiman, I thought. Poor old chap.

Wouldn't notice rough ways if he was a bit loopy.

Peter, he is loopy.

One doesn't like to speak ill of a fellow but there it is.

You know he was shell-shocked.

I didn't know it would lead to popping off.

Off he goes yesterday, with a Barker Silver Ghost.

Angry phone calls all day from rough-diamond fellow in a hideous provincial accent.

Fentiman comes back at six. "Where have you been?" I say.

"Driving," he says. He'd popped off.

- How often has he popped off? - Twice this week.

I'll have a word with him.

When he's not popping off, he's talking to himself.

Great, long speeches with nobody there. It's worse than Shakespeare.

Look, he needed a job, Gerald.

When he mentioned seeing your advert, I thought, "Bank ho!

Demonstrating cars sounds just his ticket."

He wasn't talking to himself or popping off when I recommended him to you.

I'm not blaming you, Peter. He was right as rain at first.

It's just lately he's been a bit odd.

And it won't do, you know.

I'll tell you what, though.

I think something's bothering him.

Yes, Mrs Mitcham, but as Lady Dormer's housekeeper,

you must have a pretty fair knowledge of what goes on.

"Goes on"?

Well, I meant goes on generally. I didn't mean "goings on", of course.

If you would state your requirements exactly.

- I'm sorry. I've got off on the wrong foot. - It is of no consequence.

Oh. Oh, good.

Well, exactly, I'd like to know the details of General Fentiman's visit on the day he died.

Do you remember what time he arrived?

At a quarter to four, he was shown into the drawing room.

I came down to him and took him upstairs to Her Ladyship's bedroom.

And this is the drawing room, is it?

This is the morning room.

So it is.

Did the General seem in good health when you saw him?

So far as I could say.

Always remembering that he was a very old gentleman,

and only that afternoon had been told that Her Ladyship was...

Dying. Yes.

..passing away.

He didn't seem bluish about the lips or having difficulty with his breathing?

Nothing of that kind.

Going up the stairs tired him and I asked him whether he would like some refreshment

but he declined.

Did you witness the meeting between himself and Lady Dormer?

I did not. Miss Dorland was in the bedroom with Her Ladyship and rose to greet him.

Then I left the room, as was my place to do.

Ah, Miss Dorland. I shall need to speak to Miss Dorland with her permission.

She's the new mistress here, I understand?

Did Miss Dorland remain with the General and Her Ladyship?

No, she left them to themselves - with the nurse in attendance, of course.

Oh, yes.

Yes, the nurse. Now, when...

Mason, will you please let Miss Dorland know that Inspector...er...

Parker.

..is here in connection with General Fentiman's death and would be grateful for her time.

Very good, ma'am.

I couldn't have expressed it better myself.

You're not required to express it.

No.

- Miss Dorland, you say, left them... - After about five minutes.

She then came down to the housekeeper's room to see me and we had a chat.

As Her Ladyship's companion, Miss Dorland considered it suitable

to be on friendly terms with the senior staff.

She spoke of her aunt and the General.

"Poor, old dears," she said.

Well, no doubt she is a young lady of feeling, as few are nowadays.

"Poor, old dears"?

- And you considered that to be... - Unsuitable.

Yes.

- And then she went away? - And...

presently - perhaps half an hour later - Mason came in...

- The girl you saw just now. - Yes.

..to ask for some brandy for the General as he was feeling badly.

The spirits are kept in the housekeeper's room, you see. I have the key.

Did you see the General when you took the brandy upstairs?

I did not take it up, Mr Parker.

Ah...no, of course not.

- I sent Mason with it. Yes? - (Knocking)

Miss Dorland presents her compliments to Inspector Parker

and will be prepared to see him in the studio

when he has finished cross-examining her staff.

Well, no doubt that will be a cordial encounter.

However, I would like to ask Mason some questions, Mrs Mitcham, with your permission.

By all means.

Mason, remain.

(Sighs)

That woman frightens the life out of me.

- She's one of the old-fashioned sort. - Yes.

Do people really call you Mason?

They do in this house.

- Do you have another name? - Nelly.

I'll call you that, if I may.

You're welcome.

Now, sit down, Nelly, please.

- Now, on the day the General died... - Yes?

You took a glass of brandy upstairs, I believe.

- That's right. - Tell me what happened.

On the way up, I passed the studio door where Miss Dorland was.

That's where she does her painting and messing about with bottles.

She spends most of her time there.

It's her room, you see.

Messing about with erm...bottles.

Oh, chemistry.

You know?

Ladies have to have their hobbies,

not having anything better to do.

- It makes a lot to clear up. - Yes, I'm sure it does.

Go on, Nelly.

I told Miss Dorland the General was feeling poorly.

He'd had this bit of a turn, you see.

It was the nurse who'd rung for me.

"A bit of a turn, Mason," she says.

"Poor old dear," she says.

"You'd better get Dr Penberthy on the phone. I'll take the brandy up."

- And? - She did.

I gave her the brandy, she took it up to him.

Straight up?

- Did she take it up immediately? - Yes.

He'd had this turn.

I'm sorry, Nelly. I'm not making it very clear.

What I meant was, did you see Miss Dorland actually take the brandy upstairs?

Well, I couldn't, could I?

I was going downstairs to the telephone.

Oh, I had ever such a job to get through.

They don't answer on the exchange, not when they're having their tea.

Yes. Obviously you couldn't have seen her if you'd been going downstairs. Stupid of me.

Well, she did take it. He did have it.

- And then he went off to the doctor. - That's right. Course he did.

You think she put something in it?

From her chemistry?

I don't think anything of the sort.

Now, Nelly, please show me to the studio. I'd like to talk to Miss Dorland.

Oh, yes. It's just upstairs.

Oh, they will be interested in the servants' hall,

when I tell them that you think she put something in the brandy.

Er...I'm sorry.

- It's not enough. - What?

It's not enough.

She's made it out wrong. That girl has made it out wrong.

- We do ask... - See for yourself.

Seven pence. That is not right.

We do ask customers to check...

Poached egg on toast, with a pot of tea - five pence halfpenny.

That's on the menu and that's what you should charge.

You had one egg?

I had poached egg on toast.

Two eggs. That would make it right.

I am not concerned with making it right.

I had poached egg on toast - three pence, with a pot of tea - two pence, halfpenny.

- I'll ask the waitress. - I am a very busy woman! I can't stand here.

Perhaps you would allow me to buy you an egg.

Hello, Sheila.

- One poached egg. - You will do nothing of the kind.

The impertinence!

I'm not accustomed to being bought eggs by strange men.

- I don't think Lord Peter often does it. - Rarely.

If I wasn't such a very busy woman, I should complain to the...

Did you say "Lord"?

Lord Peter Wimsey.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord. Oh, my lord.

Oh, my lord.

Oh, I...feel quite faint.

You shouldn't have done it. She tries that every week.

You look tired. It seemed the easiest way of getting rid of her.

I am rather tired.

Shall we lunch?

You want to talk to me? What about?

George.

I've only got half an hour.

We can lunch here.

We're rather short-staffed.

I shall have an egg. One poached egg on toast.

What sort of chemicals?

Just a hobby.

Do you make chemical experiments?

For fun. I mess about with chemicals for fun. Schoolboys do it.

Did you make chemical experiments for fun while your aunt was dying?

Just to occupy my mind.

She took a long time dying - like King Charles II.

At least a week from the beginning to the end of her illness.

It's difficult to keep up a pitch of grief.

- What sort of experiments? - I don't remember.

- Not at all? - No.

- Do you have the residue of the experiments? - Mason clears them up.

- How very convenient. - Yes.

Would you like to see my chemicals, Inspector? They're very ordinary.

First steps in chemistry.

Rather simple compounds.

Growing a crystal.

Testing for acid with litmus paper.

You won't find digitalis among them.

How did you know General Fentiman was poisoned with digitalis?

- It was not in the newspapers, Miss Dorland. - My solicitor told me.

What?

Mr Pritchard, my solicitor, was present at the exhumation

- and received a copy of the analyst's report. - I see.

I'm sorry you're disappointed.

Tell me what happened when you took the brandy upstairs.

I met Nurse Armstrong at the door.

She said, "He's better now."

So I went in and I saw General Fentiman looking...

very odd and grey.

The nurse said, "I've given him his drops. A little brandy will put him right again."

What drops?

His own drops, I suppose. He was old. He carried medicine around with him.

- You can ask the nurse. I have her address. - Please go on.

Anyway, we gave him the brandy and after a while he got less deathly looking.

I told him that Mason was ringing for the doctor but he said he'd rather go round to Harley St.

I thought it rash but Nurse Armstrong said it was better not to cross him.

So the footman found him a taxi and off he went.

Thank you.

A very clear account.

Are these your paintings?

Yes.

Do you mind if I have a look?

I don't think you're really interested in my painting.

No, I think they're very good.

Ah.

Now, that's um...

interesting.

And medicine too.

What?

You're interested in medicine as well as chemistry?

And painting.

Quain's Dictionary Of Medicine.

You've left it open at a page.

"The Action Of Certain Poisons".

You're very persistent.

Will you put the book back, please?

May I ask you what first gave you your interest in chemistry, Miss Dorland?

In chemistry and medicine.

No, I'm sorry, you may not. Now, if you...

There is just one more question.

Before Lady Dormer died,

before General Fentiman came to visit her,

did you know what provision she had made for you in her will?

Well?

No.

Of course not. How could I?

Oh, will you go away? You make me sick!

He'd better give up the job, I suppose.

We can manage on my wages. We've done it before.

Look, it's not a question of money, Sheila.

You'll get money.

Bound to, I think. Some.

It's more a question of self-respect.

If he gets money, I don't think he's going to be too bothered about self-respect.

George doesn't mind being idle. He thinks a gentleman should be.

It's just my keeping him he doesn't like.

He's not as selfish as he seems, you know.

He can be generous, loving...

..and brave.

I know that, Peter.

I'm his wife.

Look, tell me...

Tell me about this muttering.

Well, I wouldn't worry so much. I mean, people do talk to themselves. It's...

It's just that whenever it's happened before, it's always ended in some kind of...

I don't know, some kind of brainstorm.

He wanders off. He can be gone for days.

There was the time he was found dancing naked amid a flock of sheep, singing to them.

- (Stifles a laugh) - Well, it sounds comic, doesn't it?

Especially since George is tone-deaf.

You see, he can never remember afterwards exactly what he's done.

What about his pills?

Doesn't like taking them.

Get him to take them.

Do you have the prescription, by the way?

Why do you ask?

Just wondered what was in them.

Well, you don't expect us to know.

The chemist makes them up.

People don't know what are in their pills.

No, of course.

I thought you never fetched and carried.

Mason carried the tray to the door and I have brought it in.

As you see.

Thank you.

Chops.

A chop and a grilled tomato, as you requested.

Water?

Thank you.

I have very little appetite, I'm afraid.

It's dispiriting for Cook.

Yes. Yes, it must be.

Please don't stand over me, Mrs Mitcham. I'm quite capable of cutting up my own meat.

If Cook is dissatisfied with my appetite, she may leave.

Anyone who is dissatisfied may leave.

Cook has already given notice.

I thought it my duty to inform you myself.

Because of my poor appetite?

Because of what is being said.

- Said? - In the servants' hall and elsewhere.

What is being said?

I think you know.

I can guess.

Do you believe it?

It's not my place.

Or Cook's either, so she is leaving.

You've never approved of me, I think.

Artistic notions are not suitable in someone of my situation.

- But your situation has changed. - Yes, in every way.

I think you should go out more.

- What? - Show your face, Miss Dorland.

You are the mistress here now. You should behave with courage.

People may say what they will. We cannot prevent that. But we may give it the lie.

I... I hope you enjoy your dinner.

Mrs Mitcham, I asked you...

..do you believe what's being said?

It is not important what I believe.

What is important is that you should fill your place as the new mistress here.

(Chatter)

Thank you, thank you.

I didn't know it was monkey glands.

Nor did I.

She's not here.

- Are you sure? - I'm not as interested in glands as you are.

I had a good look at the audience during the lecture.

- Was she invited? - Mm. Bound to have been.

She and Naomi Rushworth were quite chummy at one time.

Thank you so much. Would you excuse me?

Would you excuse me, Naomi?

Claret cup? But I'm a journalist.

Where's the whisky?

I could see it across the room.

A great bowl filled with fruit.

My heart sank.

Good claret cup's better than poor champagne.

I have never known good claret cup.

However, since we're both thirsty...

Excuse me, would you? Thank you.

(Sneezes)

Oh, hello, Sally, what are you doing here?

I might ask you the same question.

It's very kind of you, and thank you so much for coming.

- Will you excuse me? - I'm so sorry.

I have just met... Ah.

Marjorie, this is Salcombe Hardy, a journalist. Miss Marjorie Phelps.

- Are you writing about the lecture? - Up to a point.

Up to what point, Sally?

What is your interest in glands?

Hm? Oh, I'm just a guest. Miss Phelps brought me here.

She's a friend of the Rushworths.

- I don't understand. - Murder.

- Explain, Sally. - It's quite simple.

An old man dies.

Dr Penberthy certifies natural causes.

It isn't natural causes. It's murder.

Therefore my newspaper's interested in the doctor,

no matter what he says or does.

But that's ridiculous.

Of course it is.

Any doctor would have said natural causes.

Any doctor didn't.

This one did.

You're backing the wrong horse, Sally.

You think the niece did it?

- I didn't say so. - No, I dare say you're right.

My paper's interested in the niece too.

We tip all the horses.

That way you can't lose.

Oh, you can, you know. You can.

(Sneezes)

It was you in the cemetery, I take it, on the night of the exhumation.

Salcombe Hardy, recording angel.

I thought I heard a sneeze.

Well, I was cold.

The way we see it,

if you touch murder, you become interesting.

You look at tonight.

Murder Doctor Talks Of Monkey Glands.

No.

It's not a wasted evening.

Oh, nasty.

I'd better have another. Back in a sec.

Ah, Wimsey.

I saw you across the room. I wonder if I might have a quiet word with you.

Of course. Would you excuse me, Marjorie?

Certainly.

I'll take care of your friend.

I'm sorry about that. Back in a jiffy. Excuse me.

Shall we go in here?

- You haven't got a drink. - I should think not. It's claret cup.

I'm surprised to see you here.

Hm?

Well, I actually came hoping that...

Oh, no, dash it. That sounds rude.

No, do go on.

Well, I actually came hoping to meet Ann Dorland.

Of Fentiman fame.

But she doesn't appear to be here.

Miss Dorland? No, I don't think she's here.

- Do you know her? - Slightly. She's a friend of Naomi's.

Naomi Rushworth?

My fiancée.

Didn't you know?

It was announced in the Times and the Morning Post.

Really?

Oh, well, congratulations.

No, I'm afraid I'm usually more interested in the deaths than the births and marriages.

- I enjoyed your lecture. - Oh. Did you?

Thank you.

Straw in the wind, I think one might say.

If that's the right expression.

A kite. Flying a kite.

One wanted to see how the whole scheme would be regarded by intelligent people.

I think we have a sample of intelligent, forward-thinking people here tonight.

- A fairly representative sample. - I'm sure we have.

If only one can get the idea across that most crime is the result of glandular malfunction,

I don't think it'll be too difficult to raise the money.

Divine. It really was divine.

What a clever little thing Naomi is.

- To have caught such a clever man. - Thank you. Thank you.

Oh, am I interrupting something?

Divine.

- Raise the money? - For research.

Oh. You mean you find a lot of people with disordered glands

and then watch them to see if they start breaking into houses.

Or I suppose you could start off with people who've already broken into houses and then...

Please don't be flippant. At any other time, I'd find it amusing but at the moment...

I'm sorry.

I am about to be married.

I am about to launch an appeal for funds

to start a clinic for research into the effect of glandular malfunction on social maladjustment.

It is important. It is worthwhile.

I should give up my practice and become...

- A public figure? - It's not an unworthy ambition.

No.

But if I am pilloried in the newspapers, it will never happen.

So that is why you wanted to talk to me.

You seem to be friendly with reporters.

Good heavens. You'd been expecting the old boy to pop off of a heart attack for ages.

Nobody could possibly blame you.

He was poisoned.

I couldn't know it. You couldn't. Nobody could.

But it happened and now everybody knows it.

And I signed the death certificate.

I don't know anything about newspaper practice

but suddenly I've become interesting and it's not my fault.

Naomi and I had planned to have a quiet wedding.

Imagine it...

Reporters, photographers!

But most important of all is the clinic.

And if it is once suggested in the newspapers that I have been incompetent or ignorant...

Well, damn it, Wimsey, it isn't fair!

What do you want me to do?

- Tell them. - But they already know.

Unfortunately the press ain't interested in what's fair.

That don't sell copies.

Yes, but they would believe you.

It's nothing to do with belief.

I mean, look at him. That's the press.

Now, what do you think he's got to do with the truth or what's worthwhile

or anything else except getting a story and keeping on just the right side of the libel laws?

Newspapers are only something in which to wrap fish and chips.

You can't believe that they'd affect the outlook of, well, "intelligent, forward-looking people"?

Oh, damn.

Poor man.

Quarrel?

I've been teaching him the facts of life.

I thought as a doctor, he ought to know.

What a nasty girl his fiancée is. I can't bear those pudding-face people.

- Why nasty? - Hinting. I've just left her.

Hinting at what?

Oh, it's too beastly.

Apparently, Ann Dorland was asked for tonight.

But she hasn't come.

The sum of the hints was, she hasn't come because she poisoned the old general

to get her aunt's money and everybody knows it.

Your logic escapes me.

Since everybody knows it and she knows that, she's embarrassed to appear in public.

Does everybody know it?

Naomi Rushworth seems to know it.

And you know it, don't you?

I don't know it. I think it may be likely.

That's the same as knowing it.

It's disgusting.

I think we might as well go.

I feel rather as if I've been used, Peter.

- By me? - Yes.

"What do you know of Ann Dorland?

Will you take me to meet her?"

I don't care if she poisoned 50 old generals.

So you know it, too.

- What? - That Ann...

- I don't know anything of the sort! (Clatter)

Only, if she didn't, who did?

Precisely. Who did?

Because I don't know it, Marjorie.

I think perhaps she may have done it but if she did, where did she get hold of the digitalis -

the poison?

And if you don't want to believe her guilty, just keep asking yourself that.