All language subtitles for 318. Mandrake

(music)

(theme music)

(thunder, rain falling)

We therefore commit
his body to the ground.

Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

In sure and certain hope of
the resurrection to eternal life

through our Lord,
Jesus Christ.

Amen.

All: Amen.

(dirt clumps fall on grave)

(rain falling)

Who is that man?

I never saw him before.

Do you know him?

No. Must be local.

(thunder)

(thunder)

Quite satisfied,
Mr. Benson?

Absolutely.

You handled everything
splendidly, splendid.

Words can't express...

You know, we don't
take testimonials.

I'm delighted.

It all went like clockwork.

Then this is farewell.

Thank you once more.

Thank you, doctor.

Thank you,
Mr. Benson.

Uh, one last word.

I know.
Utter secrecy.

- You needn't worry.
- I'm glad.

You see, the contracts won't
be destroyed for three months.

Gives us a measure of cover.

Goodbye.

Another sucker
loose on the world.

He won't be able to spend
the money fast enough.

He must watch
his blood pressure.

It's high for a young man.

You want a drink?

Hmm, why not?

Well, it's on
the National Health.

Four-star Napoleon.

Well, here's
to instant death.

What's the matter?

The Hippocratic Oath.
The life so short.

The craft, so long to learn.

Well, let's drink
to the short life.

Oh, I see you
took my advice.

They do a good smoke,
these people.

Should do at 12 and 6
a throw.

Roy?

Yeah?

I've been
thinking.

We've completed
nine cases.

We've done very well
for ourselves.

Very well indeed.

I think we should
call it a day.

You do?

Yes. Retire, get out
while we can.

The more you have,
the more you want.

What you mean, doctor,

is that the Rolls
on the meter outside
is paid for.

There's a hefty balance
in the bank,

and you'd rather be
in Scotland salmon fishing.

- Yeah, something like that.
- That's a lot like it.

When I came to you
with my scheme,

the shingle outside your
door was a lot tackier

than it is today.

Well, that was only
a temporary...

Oh, come on, doctor,
don't let's fool ourselves!

Another year and you'd
have been finished in London.

Never!

I spent three months
looking for the right man.

A doctor whose plight
was greater than his
professional honor.

I found you.

Yes, but it's almost
impossible to keep up to date.

I mean to say, I've tried.

I've read articles.

It's not the same.

As you say,
we've done quite nicely.

Well, doctor,
I'm not ready to quit.

Perhaps my ambitions have
more appetite than yours.

Look, we've made enough
to live in luxury

for the rest of our lives.

Still, another
20,000 a year

shouldn't be
so unacceptable.

Is there another client?

There is.

Male or female?

An aspiring widow, age 43,
but looks a lot younger.

Well, what's
the matter now?

Carrara marble.

It was presented to me
by the hospital in Glasgow

for services to medicine.

Name, Turner.

Husband's age, 48.

Names,
Arthur George William...

Just a minute.
Do you mind?

Not quite as fast
as that.

Name, Turner.
Husband's age, 48.

Names, Arthur George William.

Address, The Grove,
Hemel Hempstead...

(water lapping)

(fog horn)

Steed: Anybody home?

Oh, go away.

Fire.

What? Where?

What do you want?

A chat.

Oh, we're having
a party?

An evening with the YWCA.

Ah.

Ooh.

Sit down if you can.

And what can I
do for you?

I came to talk to you
about your father.

Too late, my friend.
He's dead.

That's just what
I want to talk about.

Who are you?

A friend of the family.

I remember seeing you
at the funeral.

Wasn't it cold?

You don't have
a match, do you?

Sorry.

Keep talking.
I'm with you.

What'd he die of?

Heart, coronary.

How'd he come to
be buried in Cornwall?

My mother was Cornish.

Sounds schmaltzy, I know.

But it was there
in the will.

There's sentiment
in all of us, you see.

Ah, that's better.

The world's too harsh

unless you see it
through tobacco smoke.

Had he been ill for long?

Oh, off and on,
ever since he retired.

He used to be in,
what you call it?

Security executive.

I can see you don't
believe in a long mourning.

No, I don't.

It's a nice game.

When do I get a turn with...

Help yourself,
help yourself.

Who are you?
What are you doing here?

What's the point of it?

My name is Steed.
I came to see you.

And I'm interested
in your father's death.

Professionally
or personally?

- That depends.
- What on?

On your answers.

What's your interest?

I used to work with him.

So?

Well, we were in
a few scrapes together.

Berlin, one or
two other places.

Ah, it's going to be
another war story.

No, it isn't, no.

How much?
How much do you want?

(fog horn)

Not to worry.
It's one of ours.

What is it?

The Old Comrades Fund?

Bed socks for the veterans?

Your father
gave me a letter.

What did it say?

- I haven't opened it yet.
- Why not?

It was only to be opened

unless he died a violent
or a sudden death.

Why'd he give it to you?

I told you.

We were in a few
scrapes together.

This was no violent death.
He was in his own bed.

Then it was sudden.

No.

No, as a matter of fact,
it was a marvel

the old boy lasted
as long as he did.

Well, everyone knew
he was going home, everyone.

The doctor.
He even knew himself.

He was punch-drunk
with coronaries.

He must have had
a heart like a bull.

He was strong.

Well, you know that.

Took a lot to kill him.

That old man was tough.

He was only 64.

I served with him
and I'm not Methuselah.

Well, it wasn't sudden.

You should have seen
the doctor's bills.

Put 'em end to end.

The maze we
went through.

Platoons of them.

Who nursed him?

At the end? I did.

That's why
I had this blind.

Hangs over you,
doesn't it, death?

The machinery of it.

Throwing out
the medicine bottles

and the boxes of pills,
pajamas.

Ah, sick.

Oh, Mr. Steed?

What about this letter?

What about it?

- What will you do?
- I'll call the bank.

Yes?

And I'll tell them
to destroy it.

After all, we don't
want to upset you
anymore, do we?

No. No, I don't
want to see it.

Destroy it.
That's good enough for me.

I think you can get
something back
from the empties.

Thanks.

Keep talking.
I'm with you.

What did he die of?

Heart, coronary.

And why was he buried
in Cornwall?

My mother was Cornish.
Sounds schmaltzy, I know.

But it was there
in the will.

There's sentiment
in all of us, you see.

Young Benson's father
had no more affection

for his wife than I have for
old Jolly Jet Jawsnapper there.

How do you know?

He booked her everywhere
in dicey airlines.

He used to permutate
for the next air disaster.

Happy family.

If there was fog in the air,
Mrs. Benson was in the air.

Then there's no truth
in his story.

Not that part of it.

Well, there's
no sentiment in security.

That I know.

Where were you
carrying this?

In my pocket.

I had a microphone lead
led up to my scarf.

Well, your old boss
has come to a sudden end.

I don't see there's anything
you can do about it.

Don't be too sure of it.

Young Benson looked
pretty sick when I left him.

Well, thank you
for the cream.

Huh, I take it
with Swiss cherry jam,

thin brown bread
and Indian tea.

And at about
a quarter past four.

Do you?

I like it for breakfast.

Read that.

"Joey, a King Penguin
at Edinburgh Zoo

spent 56 days
trying to incubate..."

(chuckles)

The other side.

Oh, really?

"Notice of a funeral
service at Tenby."

That's the place
you went to?

Uh-huh.

"2 p.m. funeral service.
Church of St. Alban's Tenby.

No flowers."

And the same again,
and the same again.

All within
the past three months.

Well, people do die.

But Tenby is
a ghost village.

You mean,
nobody lives there?

It used to support a tin mine.

The tin mine went out
of action eight years ago,

and all the villagers
have moved to Bodmin.

Must have a strong
attraction for corpses.

So strong that people die
in London

and are transported
up to Cornwall.

Why?

He quizzed me up one side
and down the other!

Well, don't worry.

It's easy for you
to say that.

It wasn't you
he was talking to.

He's probably nosy.

That's one version.

What if he were
on business?

Whose business?

Anyway, it doesn't matter.

You've got nothing
to bother about.

And if they exhume the body?

- They won't.
- If they do?

They'll find nothing.

But I read in the papers
somewhere that...

It doesn't matter
what you read.

They'll find nothing.

Now forget all about it
and go home.

No, don't give me
the brush-off.

This cost me
a packet of money.

You got what you
wanted, didn't you?

Now go on.
Off you go.

I don't want the law
breathing down my neck.

No sense in being
the richest man in prison.

You won't be.

We're specialists
in this field.

Remember one thing,
doctor.

The Medical Council
wouldn't approve.

Yes, we're well aware
of reminding ourselves
of the obvious.

Don't forget, we have
a contract signed by you.

I wouldn't do anything rash.

(birds chirping)

Morning!

Mrs. Gale: Morning.

A tourist in Tenby
this time of year?

Surely not.

No, it's a job of work.

Vicar?

Whyper, Adrian Whyper.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

Job of work?

Yes, I'm writing an article
for an American magazine

on the English
country churchyards.

You don't mind, do you?

My dear lady, of course not.

But it's my brother
Julian you should see.

He wrote a paper on it.

What you call it?
A thesis.

When we were up Oxford,
I rode behind him
in the Varsity Eight.

Fine oarsman, Julian.

Where do I find him?

Ah, where indeed?

He's somewhere up
the Congo, missionary.

Stranger
in a strange land.

Yes, I know the feeling.

You don't know Cornwall?

Not well, no.

Where are you staying?

At the White Bear.

Oh, good choice, capital.

Have you been up to
the Minstrel's Gallery?

Not yet.

Oh, you must.
And you must try
their ale.

Brewed
on the premises.

"Wine is a mocker."

"Moderation in all things."

"Total abstinence is easier
than perfect moderation."

Oh, I don't know
that one.

No, you've
got me there.

St. Augustine.

Oh, yes, of course.

Multi quidem facilius
et cetera.

I shouldn't worry with
these new stones.

It's the old ones that
have all the character.

These are only peace,
perfect peace,

lay the dead to rest.

Very unimaginative.

There used to be one
in Penryn.

Now how did it go?

"Here lies returned
to play.

"Miss Arrabella Young

who upon the first of May
began to hold her tongue."

(both laugh)

Great sense of humor,
your Cornishmen.

Yes.

Is there anything
particular and personal

to your own graveyard?

Oh, yes, there's something
you can mention.

Just here by the lichgate,

there used to be
a mandrake root.

Mandrake?
The mandrago drug?

Yes, that's right.
Mysterious plants.

No end of properties.

It was supposed to shriek
if you touched it,

and pull it up and it groaned
like a dying man.

Should be good
for a paragraph.

(chuckles)

Yes, we've got an awful lot
of deadly nightshade.

Must be something to do
with the soil.

Have you been as far
as the lizard?

Not yet.

Nice little
story for you.

When they built
the first lighthouse
in 1619,

all the locals
were up in arms.

Said they'd lost
God's grace.

What did they mean
by that?

Their pickings
from the ships

that would have been
wrecked on the cliffs.

(laughs)
God's grace indeed.

- That's grim.
- Very.

Come let me show you
the church.

I haven't done
me grand tour for years.

Yes, I'd love to see it.

Perhaps I might
even be able to sell you
an illustrated history.

Proceeds to Congo Relief.

Yes, there's been a Whyper
here ever since Queen Anne.

I lost two brothers
in the Great War.

Lost a lot of fine men.

- Senseless carnage.
- Mm.

Freddy was chaplain
of Passiondale.

He knew
Woodbine Willie.

Did he?

Allen died with
the Canadians
at Vimy Ridge.

Vicar?

Yes, my dear.

Who's buried here now?

I mean, now that
the village is gone?

Oh, not many, you know.

Just a few who
were born in Tenby.

They like to be
brought back.

Really, then
it's only locals?

Oh, no.

We do get the odd soul
from places like London.

Seems a long way to come.

It's a long journey.

Quite.

But it must be
very expensive.

Oh, I don't know.

It's probably cheaper to
be buried in the country.

I haven't been into
the economics of it.

I look at it like this.

If you've lived in the city
all your life,

all that noise and bustle,

you've earned a little peace,
perfect peace.

Yes, I suppose
you're right.

Man: Look in here...

Hello? Who's this?

I say, we're getting
quite congested.

Why, Hopkins, my dear fellow.
How nice to see you.

How are you?

Fine, fine, Vicar.

I'd like you to meet
Mrs. Turner.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

This is... oh, my dear.
I'm so sorry.

I don't know your name.

- Mrs. Gale.
- Mrs. Gale.

- Mrs. Gale, Mrs...
- Turner.

- Turner, Mr. Hopkins.
- How do you do?

Will you excuse me,
Vicar?

I've got work to do
and the sun's
very precious.

- Why, yes, of course.
- Excuse me.

Bit of a writer.

St. Augustine,
I won't forget.

Oh, right.

Nice girl.

Vicar, I want you to see
if there's anything

you can do
for Mrs. Turner.

Well, I'd be delighted.

Mrs. Turner is arriving
at the end of a long
and comfortless journey.

Oh?

It's my husband, Vicar.
He's dying.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

It could literally
happen any minute.

This is the first time
Mrs. Turner

has left his side
for weeks.

Ah, "a virtuous woman
is a crown to her husband."

Her price is
far above rubies."

When it happens, when,
she'd like him to be
interred at Tenby.

Yes, of course.

He is a man of the country?

- No, not...
- In spirit.

Yes, in spirit.

Oh. Well,
excuse me a moment.

Fond of his garden,
wasn't he?

Of course, you can't say
exactly when it will be?

- No.
- I'd say Saturday.

Saturday?

Then or thereabouts.

Oh, dear.

Well, we'll step outside
in a moment.

I do have one very beautiful
plot just by the west wall.

Very sheltered.

Gets the noon sun in winter.

The first crocuses
come up there.

I had thought of it
for Julian, my brother.

Oh, it sounds
perfect.

Well, I'll just take
some particulars.

Good day.

Bit late to take
them pictures, isn't?

Depends what for.

What was she doing?

Taking photos
of them headstones.

Can't be bad, can it?

Could be.

Well, shine your spade up.
We're in business.

How soon?

The Vicar will
tell you about it.

You've got the number.
Ring me if anything happens.

Trust me, Gov.

Ta. Could bring me
some jellied eels or
something, saveloys.

It's this local grub,
it's killing me.

If she comes
snooping around again,

we might have to take steps.

Make it a double booking.

Now, Mrs. Turner,
we'd like to recap

on a few of the more
personal questions.

Any idea as to the present
size of your husband's estate?

About 200,000.

Net?

Mm-hmm.

Any other living relatives
besides yourself?

I've checked. One sister.

- Sister?
- She lives in Perth.

Perth in Scotland?

- Perth, Western Australia.
- Oh.

And she's bedridden,
arthritis.

Nasty complaint, there.
None of the drugs...

What about close friends?

We don't have any.

- Think carefully now.
- I don't need to.

My husband didn't make
friends or influence people.

He just made money.

Any other beneficiaries
in the will?

No.

Insurance?

He always said his business
was his insurance.

Now most important of all,
when did he last see a doctor?

About 1950.

He had
his appendix out.

You sure
he hasn't seen one since?

He's an apple a day man,
a throwback to Adam

without any of Adam's more
interesting characteristics.

He's not on
any doctor's panel?

No, the appendix business
was before we moved.

He's a member of a club?

No.

You understand,
we have to be very careful.

Of course.

- Doctor?
- I'm happy if you are.

Well, I think we can
help you, Mrs. Turner,

if you still
want to go ahead.

Thank you.

You realize, of course, you'll
have to do exactly as we say.

Your neck may depend
upon it.

I know.

Be a shame for those pearls
to lose such a nice home.

(chuckles)
Wouldn't it?

Our first sordid detail:
money.

- We'd like a check.
- Now?

Would you like to sit
here, Mrs. Turner?

There you are.

Who do I make it out to?

Mandrake Investments,
5,000 pounds.

The other half is due
after the ceremony.

You don't stint yourselves.

It's a very
exclusive service.

Did Whyper find
a suitable plot?

Most accommodating,
that man.

Sheltered position,
gets the noon sun.

He was saving it
for his brother Julian.

That's awfully good of him.

Thank you.

Now what happens?

No color, no taste,
no smell.

Three in one.

The instructions
are on the bottle,
which we want back.

Safety precaution.

How long does it take?

30 minutes to an hour.

Seldom more than 30 minutes.

How much do I use?

All of it.
It's a fatal dose.

And what are the...

Symptoms?

Intense thirst,
stomach cramp, vomiting.

But it'll all be over
very quickly.

Feeble, irregular pulse,
cold, clamminess...

Doctor, this is not
a medical lecture.

And when it starts,
I call for you?

Correct.

I shall do everything
that I can.

But, alas,
you'll be too late.

From then on,
everything goes
like clockwork.

Very well then.

Goodbye, Mr. Hopkins.

Goodbye, Mrs. Turner.

- Thank you, doctor.
- Not at all.

Uh, going shopping today?

Yes, I thought I might.

Buy black.
It'll suit you.

I'll think about it.

Well, perhaps this may be
the last one after all.

I wouldn't bank on it.

She'll see through you
soon enough.

Now you stick
to medicine, doctor.

Steed: Well,
we know that one.

(snaps fingers)

Pretty good
for a still life.

Yes, I took it at
a 250 up at 5.6.

Fare thee well.
Each to his own exposure.

(snaps fingers)

Don't do that.

Why not?

I feel like a projectionist.

Oh, Montgomery
always did it.

So?

They do a rattling
good trade down there, eh?

Not bad for
a ghost village.

(snaps fingers)

You're wasting
your time, general.

Why?

There aren't any more.

Oh, house lights.

(snaps fingers)

Well, how many
were there?

Out of the 11 you took...
oh, nine are in Who's Who.

And seven of them left estates
of over 100,000 pounds.

So the majority of them are
rich and reasonably eminent.

At some stage
of their lives.

Can you find out
who were their doctors?

I wish I knew.

Who was young
Benson's doctor?

That's next on the agenda.

Young Benson, he dealt
with a Dr. Macombie.

How do you know?

I had him followed.
He went off like a shot.

Does he know
you're on to him?

He will when I'm ready.

Odd, though, wasn't it about
that Cockney gravedigger?

He was so obviously
a recent import.

Oh, did you find out about
that man I met down there?

- Roy Hopkins?
- Mmm.

Was his car registration
a London one?

Yep.

There are only two Roy Hopkins
in the phone book.

One is an accountant

and the other runs
a cracker factory.

Let me give you a hand!

Oh!

Please don't bother.

Oh, I say, my goodness.

Well, the customer's
always right.

Thank you.

No, no, no, you keep
your flag on the summit.

I'll follow up
with the ponies.

Oh, did I hurt you?

No, no, it's only
a flesh wound.

Come on, confidence.

(both laugh)

Only a few.

Oh, it's no use.

I've got till next Christmas
to clear them up anyway.

I'm delighted to hear it.
How do you do?

How do you do?

Now I think it's
my turn to insist now.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Ham...
and cheese and tomato.

Well, mustard?

- Of course?
- French?

Well, is there any other?

Enchanté, mademoiselle.

(chuckles)

Can I help you?

Mr. Hopkins in?

No, he's lunching with
some Japanese businessmen.

They make the goodies
that go in the crackers.

Well, the little masters
of miniature.

Hey, what do you got
in season, eh?

For piping
your puddings aboard.

(chuckles)

Hey, careful!

(coughs)

Oh, um, that's very good
on an x-ray plate.

Yeah. Well, we don't give them
to the very young.

I should hope not.

The Chancellor's Balloon.

Prevents inflation.

(chuckles)

Look, I really wanted
to order three dozen boxes

of crackers for
an old folks' anniversary.

Oh, hey, they mustn't
crack too loud.

Of course not.

We have the most discreet
crackers in the business.

Try this for size.

Oops. Sorry.

(soft pop)

Oh.

Strength C.
D is softer.

Oh, dear.

Perhaps we'd better
try a B, eh?

Yep.

Allow me, madame.

Oh, thank you.

There you go.

All right.

Oh, marvelous!

That's very good indeed.
It will do really fine.

The old folks will love that.
I'll have three dozen boxes.

Does Hopkins have
an office around here?

Uh, yeah.
First floor.

Is he around all the time?

Oh, some of the time.

He's not exactly wedded
to the business.

- No?
- No.

He inherited it.
His uncle died last year.

Where was that?

Cornwall.

Oh, fateful part
of the country.

Hmm? Of course, he'd sell out
tomorrow if he could.

Why doesn't he?

LLC. What the banks don't own,
his partner does.

Oh, doesn't the business
do too well?

It's a very short season.

Mr. and Mrs. Public
just aren't cracker-minded.

Oh, Christmas,
yard kiddies' party, fine.

But they're not on
a weekly shopping list.

(chuckles)

I mean, it's not going
to replace vitamin C.

You can live without
them, can't you?

- Yes.
- There you are.

What's he like?

Hopkins?

Oh, a fat, decadent
bourgeois capitalist

exploiting
the proletarian masses.

Really?

No, actually
he's rather nice.

Who should I make
the invoice out to?

The Twilight Home,
Camberley.

I'll come
and collect them.

Anything else?

(humming)

Compliments of the house.

My goodness me.
You sure took me by surprise.

Aren't they lovely?

Thank you.

Hey, don't believe all
you read in the motto.

You know I won't.

Oops, terribly sorry,
your honor.

Who was that?

A customer.

- What did he want?
- Crackers. What else?

I've seen him before
somewhere.

Send me up a pot of tea,
will you, darling?

All that Japanese
rice wine.

Eight of them treated
by the same Dr. Macombie.

According to
the death certificates.

It's fantastic.

He's a busy man.

But he's very happy
to fit you in, Mrs. Gale.

In best pine?

Six foot by two foot,
silk lined?

Hey, what should
I have wrong with me?

Well,
what would you like?

Well, I can offer him
any amount of bruising.

That's all that vigorous
company you keep.

How about a slipped disc?

He is a doctor, Steed.

Hmm?

Well, it's a pretty
treacherous area.

No. Probe around,
scare him.

See if he drops
his thermometer.

What if he prescribes a trip
to Cornwall his style?

Say you don't feel
quite up to it.

As a matter of fact,
I booked you on the 7:40.

Arriving midnight.

- When?
- Tonight.

Ooh.

It's an enlarged lymph gland,
and the spleen's puffy, yes.

Well, I'd like to bring her
to the clinic.

All right.
Well, I'll call you back.

Will you send in
the next patient, please?

Thank you, nurse.

Would you come in,
please? Sit down.

Be with you
in a moment.

What a very
unusual surgery.

I wouldn't have thought
factories in this area

would be felicitous.

You'd be surprised.
Would you like to sit down?

Thank you.

Ah, now, Mrs. Gale,
isn't it?

Yes.

It was kind of you to see me
at such short notice, doctor.

Not at all.

Well, now,
what's the trouble?

I've got a bad eye.

How did you do it?

I was hit with
a hockey stick.

When was this?

Yesterday.

Is it swollen?

No, but it's very sore.

Is it watering up?

Ever since.

Right.

Well, perhaps you'd like
to get on that couch,

would you please, Mrs. Gale?

I'll take a look at it.

That's it.
Make yourself comfortable.

Put your head well back,
will you?

There we are.

You can't be too careful
with these things.

The eye is not the delicate
instrument people imagine.

On the other hand,

it doesn't take much
to detach the retina.

Hmm.

It seems to be
all right, Mrs. Gale.

- I think you're lucky.
- Good.

Perhaps it'd be
a good idea

to keep
the dark glasses on
for a few days.

- Yes, I will.
- Well, do you live in London?

No. My home's in Cornwall.

I have a cottage just
outside a little village.

I don't suppose you'd know it.

- Whereabout?
- Tenby.

No. I... I don't know
the area very well.

Oh, I'll get you
some drops.

And if you have any
further trouble,

don't hesitate to go
to your own doctor.

No, I won't.
Thank you.

I'll not keep you.

Admiring my rockery?

Yes.

What a lovely monsteriosa.

Yes, it is rather.

Now, don't use these like
an ordinary eye drop.

They're a wee bit stronger.

And you'll find
the dropper in the cap.

Thank you very much, doctor.

You've got your car here?

Yes. Yes, I have.

Good. Tell me, Mrs. Gale,

how did you come
to choose me

out of all the doctors
in London?

I know a patient of yours.

Oh? Who's that?

John Benson.

Oh, yes, yes.
I... I know him.

Well, good day to you,
Mrs. Gale.

Goodbye, doctor.
Thank you.

Now pull yourself together!

Of course, we're not
backing out!

She'll go through
with it as planned,

and so will you,
understand?

(banging)

We say we'll deliver,
we'll deliver.

Bye.

Problems?

Ah, business.

What else is it but
headaches and problems?

- Profits?
- Yes, you show me.

(chuckles)

Oh, that man didn't
come back again, did he?

Man? What man?

Your friend in
the fancy waistcoat.

The other afternoon?

Oh, no, he hasn't.

If he does,
tell me, huh?

- Yeah.
- Okay.

(banging)

(church bell tolls)

(organ music plays)

♪♪

Hyah!

Aah!

(breathing hard)

Unh!

Unh!

Mrs. Gale?

I think you owe me
an explanation.

(laughs)

Oh, come on, dear.

Well, maybe just
a bubble or two.

Tell me, do all your
clients qualify

for champagne lunches
and orchids.

Oh, Eve,
shame on you.

What do you think
this is, a PR do?

Chatting the client up?

Sorry.

I'll forgive you...
just.

It's been a long time since
I lunched in the West End.

Promise me something, Roy.

- What?
- You won't add up the bill.

If they want to overcharge you
for the Brussels, let them.

He used to do that.

Oh, practically a ritual.

We should be careful.

We will be.

Afraid of being
recognized?

Luncheon with a prominent
cracker manufacturer,

anything is possible.

Oh, my chauffeur
is discreet.

I wink with the right eye.
That means straight home.

And a wink with the left
means through the park,

and if it takes less than
40 minutes, you're fired.

(laughs)

And which eye is it
to be today?

Well, seeing as Nelson
was my uncle,

I'll let you do
the winking.

Mm-hmm.

Have you decided
when it's time?

Yes.

- Soon?
- Tonight.

Good.

Well, let's drink
to that.

No, I'd rather not.

Let's go, Roy.

Relax, Eve.

He won't feel anything,
you know.

Woman: Lord, Lord, methought
what pain it was to drown.

What dreadful noise
of water in mine ears.

What sights of ugly death
within mine eyes.

Methought I saw a thousand
fearful wrecks.

A thousand men
that fishes gnawed upon.

Wedges of gold...

I would speak
with Clarence

and came hither
on my legs,

as the First Murderer.

(chuckles)
How did you get in?

Ah, 'tis not...
It isn't open.

Well, it should be.
It's early closing.

I know it says closed.
I grant you that.

So now you know.

I'm a would-be actress.

Yeah, I think
I got that part.

- Waiting in the wings.
- What for?

Parts for women.

Eh?

Well, could you see
Mrs. Siddons or Sarah Bernhardt

riding a motorcycle
scratching themselves?

(chuckles)

Must be something for
a pretty girl like you.

Yeah, working in
a cracker factory.

Oh, don't you let
Mr. Hopkins hear you.

Oh, he wouldn't mind.
According to him,

the firm's losing
a fortune anyway.

Well, he obviously doesn't
come from the poor home.

Drives a fast car,
eats in swanky restaurants.

Hey, you've been spying,
haven't you?

Guilty.

Hopkins said
he recognized you.

Oh, where from?

Couldn't remember.

Well, good for him.

So what's your interest?

- Entre nous?
- Strictly.

Well, I have a little
capital to invest.

I thought this might
be a cushy little billet.

Oh, this isn't it,
believe me.

I do.

Of course, he has another
string to his bow.

Uh, Mandrake Investments.

That's what keeps him
in clover.

Oh, you know
anything about it?

Husher than hush.

I sent your crackers off.

Strength B?

Of course.

I hope those poor little
dears are all right.

I haven't read anything
about it in the papers.

(laughs)

- There's my check.
- Thanks.

Hang on.
I'll give you a receipt.

Where is he today?

Lunch.

Look, is it Japanese?

No.

In fact, his lady friend
came to call for him,

a Mrs. Turner.

Loaded?

And cocked.

If he's out for another day,
why don't you call me?

Why? Why should I?

We could have lunch.

I owe you
for the sandwiches.

Nonsense.

I know a little place
in Soho.

Soft music,
muted corks popping.

Gentle zephyrs wafting
garlic from the kitchen.

I don't like garlic.

And some of the best-known
theater producers eat there.

Well, I don't
actively dislike it.

Here's my card.
It's a date?

Mr. Steed, you're on.

(organ playing
"Funeral March")

(no audible dialogue)

Where's Macombie?

He'll be here.
Don't worry.

How did it go?

Went.

What happened?

I gave him the stuff,
left him.

When I came back,
he was dead.

Easy, isn't it?

I'll tell you the answer
to that when we've buried him.

You scared?

Are you kidding?

Relax, Eve.

It's all yours now.

That's right.

Sorry, I'm late.

Little chap
went down with flu.

One thing
after another.

I only wanted to see
that everything
had gone smoothly.

See you at the funeral.

Well, I've made out
the certificate,
Mrs. Turner.

And what did he die from?

Chronic gastric catarrh
with colitis.

I've also invented
a medical history
for the patient.

Where are we now?

Last saw him three years ago.
1961, Asian flu.

Pleurisy last year.
And now gastric catarrh.

There's only one thing
I don't understand.

What's that?

Why not cremate?
It would seem far safer.

Yes, I know it seems safer.
But, you see, it isn't.

You see, it takes two doctors
to sign the certificate.

This way, it's far simpler,
much less fuss.

Mr. Turner
never liked fuss.

(bottle clatters)

(dog barking)

(knocking on door)

Come out and drink your
coffee before it gets cold,

Seems silly to waste it.

What do you want?

Just another chat while
you're still with us.

Been having me followed?

Have I?

Thought you had me
last time, didn't you?

Did I?

All that talk
about the letter.

There was no letter.

Who told you that,
Macombie?

How do you know about him?

How do you?

He was father's doctor.

You know what this is?

No.

The medical history,
Steve.

And it lists
all the treatment
that Dr. Macombie

ever gave your father.

What about it?

Well, when you sign
a death certificate,

you normally know
your patient.

This goes back to 1956.

I'd call that knowing him.

July 8, 1956, he prescribed
a gluten-free diet

and some blood tests.

So it says.

On July 8, your father
was in Beirut arresting
a man called Malick.

How do you know?

'Cause I was with him.
And he wasn't on a diet.

What do you want?

How did you meet Macombie,
and who put you onto him?

Was it Hopkins?

He's a member
of the same club.

Club? So that's how
he operates, hmm?

He belongs to about
every club in London.

Knows everything
about every member.

Does he know
a good solicitor?

I expect so.

Maybe you should
get in touch with him.

You're gonna need it.

♪ Lead, kindly light ♪

♪ Amid the encircling gloom ♪

Vicar?

Ah, Mrs. Gale,
you're back.

Yes, as I promised.

You were up with the larks
this morning.

I missed you.

I've been in Bodmin.

I found out more
than I expected.

Well, I hope now
you'll be able to give me
a convincing explanation.

This is the analyst's
report on the soil

I took from the graveyard.

What does it show?

The earth is heavily
impregnated with arsenic,

over 200 parts
per million.

Well, arsenic
doesn't surprise me.

Why not?

Where there's tin,
there's usually arsenic.

Yes, of course.

The mine was only
a quarter mile
up the road.

Well, that's the attraction
your cemetery has, Vicar.

(chuckles)
Attraction?

After a body's been buried
for more than, say, two months,

it would be heavily
impregnated with arsenic.

So it would be pointless
to exhume it.

Who would want to?

The Home Office.

Home Office?

Well, if they thought
that somebody had been
murdered, yes.

Murdered? How?

Arsenic.

But who'd do such a thing?

Your friends,
Hopkins and Macombie.

Do you mean to say
that all those bodies

I buried recently
were victims of murder?

Yes, I'm afraid so.

But this is terrible.

We must call the police
immediately.

No, no. We must wait.
We've got to have proof.

Mrs. Gale, we can't wait
for another murder to be...

We're too late, Vicar.

Oh, what a horrible scheme!

How did you get involved?

Involved?

You don't think
that I was involved?

Well, then how did it
come about?

Well, I first met Hopkins
when his uncle died
over at Coad's Green.

- I buried him.
- Here?

Yes, just by the west wall,
nice plot.

They were local people,
so it's very likely

that Hopkins could have
known about the arsenic
in the soil.

And told the doctor
he was working with.

But it can't be true.
It never occurred to me.

They seemed
such nice fellows.

I must write
to the Bishop.

Vicar?

What were you
getting out of it?

Oh, just a few guineas
for Congo Relief.

Good heavens.

Congo children educated
on blood money.

This is an evil business,
Mrs. Gale.

How are we going
to stop them?

Well, we've always
got your pistol.

Oh, that.

I found it in my cassock
last night.

I confiscated it
at choir practice
in Bodmin.

(knocking)

Ah, thanks be.
I thought I'd missed you.

Another minute,
you would have done.

I'm sorry I didn't
get your message.

Well,
that's all right.

You've odd hours,
don't you?

It's an odd business.
Now what do you want?

Tomorrow is D-Day.

Eh?

Hopkins is out of town.

Tomorrow, huh?

Thought I would
exercise my option.

Hmm?

Garlic. Theater producers.
Remember?

I'm terribly sorry.

Look, Judy,
I can't make tomorrow.

Oh.

It's not that
I'm trying to back out.

It's just that I have to go
out of town in the morning.

How about next week?

Well, it depends
on Mr. Hopkins.

Prettiest cracker
in the shop.

How about Monday?

Come on.

200,000 pounds,
isn't it?

About that.

What next?

Some winter sunshine.

Canaries?

Nassau.

Hmm, very nice.

I've earned it.
14 years with him.

Still, just over 10,000
pounds a year, darling.

Anyway, you married him.

Well, now there weren't
so many alternatives.

When I married
the late Mr. Turner,

I had a few shillings
in my purse,

a pair of holey dance pumps,

and 12 years experience
in the chorus.

Plus the firm conviction
that any striptease I did

would be strictly
for an audience of one.

Well, you have
another audience now.

I'm retiring
from the business.

Yes, but only
temporarily.

I don't think so.

This all sounds
very final.

It is.

What do you mean, Eve?

As far as I'm concerned,
Mr. Hopkins,

you're just another
tradesman.

Now look, Mrs. Turner...

I've traded with you,
Mr. Hopkins.

End of story.

And I...
go back below stairs.

Isn't that
what they call it?

Where you go, sweetheart,
is strictly up to you.

Well, they're almost
ready, Mrs. Turner.

And the Vicar would
like a word with you.

Vicar: We therefore commit
his body to the ground.

Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

In sure and certain hope
of the resurrection

to eternal life

through our Lord,
Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Amen.

- Good morning, Mr. Hopkins.
- Good morning, doctor.

Good morning.

Fine day
for a funeral.

Did you want
something?

Yes. I wanted you.

Look here, if we're going
to catch that train,

I think we'd
better be off...

I won't delay you
long, doctor.

This is rather
an inopportune time.

This lady has just been
through the ordeal

of burying her husband.

Who was poisoned

along with Benson
and a good few others.

- Hopkins: What are you
talking about?
- Murder.

Absolute nonsense.

Now would you mind
letting us pass?

This is hardly
the time for jokes.

Steed:
I'm very glad you agree.

Even if your allegations
were true,

- you could never prove it.
- Mrs. Gale: Why not?

- Because the ground here...
- Quiet!

Arguing while Mr. Turner,
God rest his soul,

- lies in his grave.
- He doesn't.

What do you mean?

He isn't in his grave.

He's in the mortuary.

Post mortem an hour ago.

Result:
acute arsenic poisoning.

Dr. Macombie: You fool!
You incomparable...

This is a bluff. I don't
believe a word of it.

All you buried were
four sacks full of sand.

A fine return for my money!
10,000 pounds.

Scott?

Scott! Come on, man.
Don't just stand there.

- (thunder)
- Hey!

What? Unh!

- Hey!
- All right, all right.

Take 'em away.

Mrs. Gale: The police
are with the Vicar
at the vestry door.

Right-o, Mrs. Gale.
See you later.

How much?

100 pounds and
Queen's evidence.

Ooh, you could have
gotten him for 50.

What about me?

That's all right, my dear.
Plenty of room in the big car.

It was their idea.

Of course.

- They planned it.
- Naturally.

They even gave me
the poison.

All you had to do
was administer it.

Hopkins,
I could understand.

But what went wrong
with Macombie?

New techniques,
better qualified men.

He just couldn't keep up.

And neither can I.
What's the hurry?

I'm hungry.

Steed, do you know what
I'd settle for right now?

What?

Some of your brown bread,
cherry jam and Cornish cream.

Oh, at 11:15
in the morning?

Told you I always have it
for breakfast.

(thunder)

(theme music)